by Margaret Way
“Ashe,” she moaned like a woman only just holding it together. “Make love to me.” Far, far into the night. At the same time what remained of cold reason told her:
He planned this. Planned it perfectly.
And you went along with it. Why?
She knew why. She was worn down by the years of intense loneliness, of the sense of deprivation, for that was what it had been without Ashe. Without love. Sex was a crucial part of it, but what they’d had had been more noble, engaging both mind and spirit. Still the lack of sex in the way she wanted it had weighed on her heavily. Now the drive towards fulfilment was gaining irresistible momentum.
She didn’t realise it but tears were rolling down her cheeks. He bent his dark head, catching them up with his mouth as though each teardrop were as precious as a flawless diamond...
Naked, her skin gleamed like satin in the soft light. He had turned away swiftly to strip off his clothes, not bothering to hang them over anything, but discarding them where they fell. She called his name, begging him not to delay. She was desperate to merge her body with his.
It had been so long. So long. No one before or after her. She was his woman, first and last. Rock-hard, Ashe moved towards the bed.
Their destinies were entwined.
He had found her. He had found his son.
They were his. He would never let them go. This was the most important mission of his life. His objective was to win. Nothing was as important to him as Catrina and Julian. They were his family.
He came to her, whispering into her open mouth, “Thy fate and mine are sealed.”
CHAPTER NINE
CATE AND STELLA rarely had disagreements. They dealt calmly and considerately with one another and they had Jules in common. But when Cate arrived home much later than expected, Stella had the attitude of a woman on the warpath. Obviously there was some undisclosed crisis going on in her mind.
“Nearly twelve o’clock, right?”
“Hey, you gave me a fright.” Cate actually jumped. Stella was standing right inside the front door. Her expression made Cate feel like a problematic teenager home much too late. “I didn’t know I had to clock in and out.” Cate tried a joke. “What’s the problem?”
Stella’s dark eyes were deeply shadowed. “We both know what the problem is,” she said severely, as though Cate’s past were being reactivated. “It’s Julian Carlisle. He broke your heart once. Are you going to allow him to do it again?”
Cate groaned. “Stella, do you really want to get into this now?”
“Answer me.” Stella spoke as if she had the right.
“With respect, I think that might be my business.”
Stella wasn’t about to apologise. “He wants Jules. You know that. He’ll stop at nothing to get him. Jules, my Jules. My family.”
Cate put her bag down, counting to ten. “Stella can we have this conversation at another time? I want to go to bed.”
“But you’ve been to bed, haven’t you?” Stella accused. Strong emotion was swirling at the backs of her eyes. “You have the look of a woman who’s been very thoroughly bedded.” Concrete evidence Cate had no moral strength. Like Annabel perhaps?
Cate shook her head. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this, Stella. What I do is my business, not yours.”
But Stella was on a roll, challenging as she had never been before. “It’s clear to me you have no will of your own when he’s around. You know how hard it’s been getting over him. Now, you’re back in the firing line.”
Cate was dismayed and confused. Was this the Stella she had lived with all her life or a far more aggressive twin? “Stella, I’m not talking about this now,” she said carefully. “You didn’t have to wait up for me. I’m a grown woman. Not in your firing line. You’re actually overstepping the mark.”
“Am I now?” Stella gave a harsh laugh. “I certainly did have to wait up for you. I’m very worried about you, Catrina.” She thrust her hair behind one ear.
“Well, you don’t have to be.” Cate backed away.
“I don’t believe that,” Stella hit back. “You should see yourself!’
To Cate’s stunned ears it had a ring of jealousy. Was that possible? Stella was jealous of her? It seemed preposterous. Yet if it were so, she didn’t know how to deal with it. She turned to look in the tall gilt-framed mirror over the hallway console. She did look different. She looked blazingly alive, an erotic creature still wearing the veils of ecstasy. “I look fine, though my hair is a bit on the messy side.” Unlike its usual order, her hair tumbled in a thick golden mane. Even she knew she looked beautiful. What did Stella see?
Stella saw something she didn’t like because her face was a set mask. “I hope you took precautions?” she said severely, as though endlessly plagued by concerns in this regard. “We don’t want a repeat of the last time.”
“The last time?” This from kind-hearted Stella? Cate forced calm on herself.
“Like mother, like daughter,” Stella affirmed, wringing her hands like a latter-day Lady Macbeth.
“Now that’s uncalled for, Stella.” Cate suddenly exploded. “It would be very unwise of us to continue this conversation.”
But Stella, for the first time in living memory, was stripped of her calm façade. “No matter how clever you are, you’re not ahead of the game,” she said, just short of contempt. “You’re still liable to make mistakes.”
Cate’s stomach was lurching sickly. “I thought we all were. You’re making a mistake right now. This is my home, Stella, might I remind you. I pay the mortgage. You held on to your assets, which we both know are considerable. We’ve been very happy here. What’s all this about anyway? You’re saying I’m like Annabel, your alleged beloved little sister, maybe not so beloved after all?”
Stella’s dark eyes glittered with intensity. This was a Stella from another world, another time. “Both of you brought a mess on yourselves and I had to deal with it. Beguiling little Annabel and her legions of lovers!” she exclaimed bitterly. “She didn’t know about gentleness, tenderness, care. All she knew was running wild!”
“How dare you?” Cate found herself ready and willing to spring to her mother’s defence. “Listen to the way you’re talking. It’s disgusting. You’re talking about your dead sister and to me, her daughter. It’s far more likely Annabel was a fascinating woman. That’s why she had so many admirers. It’s even possible you’ve totally misrepresented her. I see that now. You made confidences to people about your sister and people listened. You told me yourself you were much admired for your utter selflessness.”
“I loved her,” Stella continued as though she hadn’t heard a word Cate said. “But I loved Ralph more. The tragedy was he didn’t see me with Annabel around. It made no sense. Annabel wasn’t anywhere near as stable as I. But men were like moths to the flame with her. Most people thought I was the nicer person and just as good-looking. Only I lacked the look after me image. It worked brilliantly for Annabel. I was the unselfish one who coped and endured.”
“Here is a woman who has eaten the bread of righteousness,” Cate quoted bleakly. “I hear what you say, Stella, now I’m making a belated assessment. You were hugely jealous of Annabel.”
“Nonsense!”
Cate continued unimpressed. “You envied the excitement, the allure, that rippled around her. She couldn’t help it. She was born that way. Please don’t erode the love I have left for you, Stella. Say no more. Go to bed. Sleep on it.”
“To be perfectly honest—”
“Have you ever been perfectly honest?” A hard core of grief and disillusionment was in Cate’s voice.
“I’ve never felt better.” Stella straightened her shoulders like a woman with a long list of good deeds behind her. “Seeing Julian Carlisle, now the two of you together, has brought it all back.”
“What does it bring back, Stella?” Cate asked, moving into the living room. It was a precaution. Jules was a deep sleeper, but there was a possibility he could wake up at
the sound of their voices. “You’re saying you loved Rafe Stewart?” She had to press Stella into answering now. Stella might have the dubious gift of being able to wipe things from her mind, but she couldn’t. She had to know.
“Stop being such a complete idiot! Of course I did. I was mad about him. He was the most wonderful catch. He was attracted to me first, I was thrilled, but Annabel went after him. She felt no shame. She really needed to do penance.”
Cate felt as if she had been pitched head first into hell. “What, die?” she exploded. “Annabel, my mother, deserved to die? And die relatively young? Are you saying all your years of self-sacrifice were no more than a cover-up orchestrated by you? I knew you didn’t love Arnold. Poor old Arnold knew it too. He knew he was second best. You loved someone else. Did you marry Arnold on the rebound? To save face. You couldn’t have Rafe, but eventually you learned you could have his child. Me. Is that it? Rafe Stewart is my father?” She drew closer to Stella, her voice soaring despite her efforts at restraint.
* * *
Jules woke with a fright. He sat up in bed, blinking his eyes. He could hear voices coming from downstairs. His mother and his grandmother were having an argument. It didn’t seem possible. They all loved one another. Something was wrong. Immediately he resolved to get up. He had to go and check. He often thought of himself as a soldier, a brave soldier, a fighting man, going into battle. He would fight to the death for his mother. And Nan too, of course. But his mother was the most important person in the world to him.
He tripped over a rug, muttered a little swear word he wasn’t supposed to say—all the kids did—then opened the door of his bedroom. He had left it ajar because he knew his mother always liked to kiss him goodnight. Most of the time he waited for it. But tonight he had fallen asleep. Out in the hallway the voices were louder. He moved very quietly to the top of the stairs, a lone little figure in pyjamas.
They were arguing. Just to know that was akin to what he thought an electric shock might be like. Nan was speaking in a voice he had never heard before. Or ever suspected she had. It was a voice that frightened him. Nan sounded as if she no longer loved his mother. She sounded as if she had been cheated in some way. Not by his mother, never!
Oh, please don’t let this happen!
I must stop it.
For some reason not at all clear to him a vivid picture of Lord Wyndham sprang into his mind. Lord Wyndham was a man of authority. Moreover, he was a relative of Nan’s, which meant there was an extended family connection to all of them. Lord Wyndham could help.
Nan’s new-sounding voice hung in the air. “When are you going to tell the boy Carlisle is his father?” she asked tersely.
That came like a great clap of thunder. Stunned, Jules jerked to one side, in case he be obliterated by a bolt of lightning.
“I must tell him. I will tell him.” His mother sounded tremendously upset. Her upset was transferring itself to him, forcing him to his knees. It was Nan who was going out on the attack. His mother was on the receiving end. He couldn’t let that happen. The Jules he was, Jules Hamilton, had suddenly ceased to be. He was Jules Somebody Else. Why hadn’t he put it all together? He was supposed to be smart. He wasn’t smart at all. He was just a dumb kid who had lost all his powers.
Carlisle! That means Lord Wyndham is your father.
But his father had deserted his mother and him years ago. Jules felt as if he were drowning. Not that he could drown. He was a very good swimmer. But his legs suddenly felt so weak he sank onto the top step, his head in his hands. Now he was unashamedly listening. This was all about him, his mother and Lord Wyndham, who had never been there for them.
“He’d love that, wouldn’t he?” Nan sounded close to snarling. Not like Nan at all. “He’s always wanted a father.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” his mother broke in. “Everyone wants a father, a loving father. You’ve always told me Annabel refused to name my father, even on her deathbed, but you’ve always known, haven’t you, Stella? You’ve always known I’m Rafe Stewart’s daughter. I was supposed to be the ‘little cross’ you took on. But you were actually glad to take me on, weren’t you, Stella? You couldn’t have him, but you had his child. You triumphed over Annabel there.”
Jules found himself gasping for breath. What was happening here? He could almost wish he had stayed asleep.
“Do I detect a note of daughterly love?” Stella sounded scoffing. “You’ve always been so down on Aunt Annabel.”
“How did you convince her to give me up?” It seemed to Jules there were tears in his mother’s voice. His mother never cried. Not in front of him anyway. His mother was his life.
“It was easy,” Nan said. “My influence over Annabel began when we were only small children. Our parents had one another. They didn’t need us, especially after the Big Tragedy. You know, losing the heir. I convinced Annabel she was doing the right thing. She knew poor old Arnie and I would take the greatest care of you.”
“Did Arnold know about Rafe?” his mother asked.
Rafe? Who was Rafe? Jules was struggling to understand but he couldn’t take it all in.
“He may have guessed,” Nan was saying. “He never knew. I certainly wasn’t about to tell him.”
His mother, who always sounded so bright and confident, now sounded deeply distressed. “Who the hell are you, Stella? How do I deal with the two of you? Stella One has been very good to me and to Jules. I thank her for that. But Stella Two, your alternate persona, is a formidable woman. I see how you built your life and my life on a pack of lies.”
Nan’s new voice burst out. “We could have gone on as before, for ever, if need be. The three of us, if only Carlisle hadn’t come back into your life. And of course you still love him. How pathetic! So what does he want to do—take you both back to England? Don’t think for a second he’ll marry you. He didn’t before.”
Oh, Mummy, oh, Mummy. Jules wobbled to his feet. This wasn’t fair. Nan didn’t sound kind. She sounded cruel. It was important he be there for his mother.
“You’re not the only designing woman in my life, Stella,” his mother was saying. “You and Alicia Carlisle would have made a good match. I don’t know which of you has done the greatest damage. I don’t want to hear one more word from you. I’m going up to bed. We can’t go on like this, Stella. You realise that. Not after all you’ve said.”
There was the sound of high heels on the polished floor. His mother was coming upstairs.
“I love you, Catrina. I love Jules.” Nan was calling to his mother in a hollow voice.
“What price love?” his mother answered.
Jules didn’t know what to do. In a few moments his mother would reach the landing. He needed to talk to someone. He turned about, making a rush for the shelter of his bedroom. He knew he couldn’t possibly sleep. Not after all he had heard. His head was still ringing with the sound of Nan’s angry voice. Jules leapt into bed, pulling the light coverlet over him. He turned his face to the wall. He felt like crying, but dragged himself out of it. Soldiers didn’t cry.
A few moments later he felt his mother’s light kiss on his cheek.
“Goodnight, my darling,” she said.
Goodnight, Mummy.
Your enemies are my enemies.
He spoke silently. He couldn’t find a voice to answer her. He pretended to be sound asleep. It was what she would have wanted anyway. He knew perfectly well his mother would be tremendously upset to know he had overheard her argument with Nan.
Only she’s not your nan, is she?
You have a father. You have a mother AND a father. Only your father denied you your birthright.
For a moment seven-year-old Jules was gripped by near-adult fury. Why had his father abandoned him and his mother? What his mother had told him wasn’t good enough. He determined he would find out the real reason. He would have it out with this man, his father, Lord Wyndham. He didn’t care if he was a lord or not. Titles had nothing to do with anything so far as he was
concerned.
He would have it out with Mr Wyndham the very next day. The insult was so great.
You need to give me some answers. I’m nearly eight years old. I have a right to express my feelings.
Yet his beautiful mother—the most beautiful mother in the world—abandoned or not, had named him after his father. Julian. Why would she do that? Nothing made sense. Yet he knew what he had to do. He had to protect her.
* * *
Jules’ heart was racing. He was in a bit of a panic. He waited until his mother drove away before he crossed to the other side of the road, pretending he was waiting for a school friend. The seconds seemed to be spinning into hours. As usual there were so many cars dropping off kids. He hoped Noah’s mum would be late this morning. He didn’t want to have to confront Noah. He was a man on a mission. It was a hot morning so he wasn’t wearing Kingsley’s distinctive school blazer. He should have had his hat on, but he didn’t. His heart was now up in his throat. Sooner or later some conscientious mother was bound to ask him what he was doing. His mother always checked up on stray kids.
Like a miracle, a taxi double parked for a moment right in front of him. One of the older boys got out, slamming the door. “What are you up to, Hamilton?” He fixed his eyes on the younger boy.
Jules saw a heaven-sent opportunity. “Hi, Daniel. I have to go back into town. I have a dentist appointment Mum forgot. My nan is going to take me.” He appealed to the taxi driver. “Can you drive me back to the city, please? I have to meet my nan outside the Four Seasons Hotel. I have the money.”
The taxi driver shouldn’t have, but he said, “Right-o, hop in.”
“I hope you’re telling the truth, Hamilton?” the older boy asked, clearly dissatisfied with Jules’ story.
“Please, don’t hold us up, Daniel. I won’t make it on time.”
“All right, go, then,” Daniel said. “But I’m going to check with your teacher,” he warned.
“That’s okay!” Jules waved a hand. “See you later.”