The Return of Her Past

by Lindsay Armstrong

  Mia stared up at him. ‘It can happen. You sound as if you don’t believe in it, but it happened for my parents.’

  ‘It happened for my parents,’ he said dryly. ‘But I happen to think it’s something that grows between two people. Do you see it happening for you? Has anyone got as far as this with you, Mia?’

  ‘This?’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘Yes, this. I’m going to take you back to the motel now. I’m going to strip off your wet sandy clothes and put you in a warm shower. When you come out I’m going to put you into bed with an extra blanket to keep you warm and heap up the pillows. Then I’m going to brew some of the excellent coffee they’ve provided.’

  Mia simply stared up at him.

  ‘When we’ve had that,’ he went on, ‘if we feel like it, we can make slow, exquisite love to each other. Or the wild and wanton variety we had last night. Or we can just go to sleep together.

  ‘Incidentally,’ he added, ‘I love the way you curl up in my arms and go to sleep. I love the way you even smile in your sleep.’

  ‘I don’t...I do?’ she said huskily.

  ‘You do. Look—’ he shoved his hands into his pockets ‘—you could catch cold like this.’

  She shivered right on cue.

  * * *

  Fortunately they hadn’t driven to the beach. They’d just collected the rug from the car, so Mia didn’t have to worry about the mess she would make in his car; the motel and the thought of shedding damp sand all over the place was another matter.

  ‘Put your shoulders back, tilt your chin and just do it, Mia,’ he advised. ‘It probably happens all the time. Besides which, they’re bound to have vacuum cleaners.’

  She cast him a look that told him he might pay her funny little compliments but he needn’t think he was forgiven for anything. In fact she was in just the right mood to do as he suggested, put her shoulders back and tilt her chin—at him, though.

  ‘All right. Not so bad?’ he said as he unlocked their door and she stepped into the room. ‘Next step,’ he said as she nodded reluctantly. ‘Straight into the shower. You can rinse yourself and your clothes off,’ he recommended with just a hint of amusement.

  Mia went to say something along the lines of it all being his fault anyway but she resisted the temptation and marched into the bathroom and closed the door pointedly.

  He opened it immediately.

  She whirled round, her eyes sparkling a furious green.

  ‘I just wanted to apologise and assure you I now have no intention of laying a finger on you,’ he drawled. ‘As for marrying you, it was only a thought, not a threat.’ And he closed the door gently.

  * * *

  Mia rinsed her clothes thoroughly before showering and washing her hair. By the time she’d done all this the bathroom was well and truly steamed up and her skin was rosy. The only problem that remained was the fact that she had nothing to wear; she’d not taken that into account in her high dudgeon.

  Her shoulders slumped as she stared at herself in the steamy mirror. What was she fighting about anyway? she wondered disconsolately. No one could force her to marry them. All she had to do was remove herself.

  But... She sighed suddenly and closed her eyes. She was inextricably tied up with Bellbird for the next few months, something Carlos well knew.

  What would it really be like to be married to Carlos O’Connor? Of course there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? And was he right—love grew?

  She wrapped a thick white towel around herself and opened the bathroom door.

  Carlos was lying on top of the bed wearing only his boxers, resting his head on his elbow. There was a tray with a coffee plunger and cups on the bedside table next to him. There were pencil-thin little packets of sugar in a brown pottery bowl on the tray and some locally made cookies in cellophane wrappings.

  He said nothing, just watched her advance towards the bed and his expression was entirely unreadable.

  Mia reached the foot of the bed before she spoke. ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking, Carlos, but I hate this kind of bickering. I mean, I don’t like myself for...for going along with it so I’ll just say this. I’m not sure of anything anymore. I can’t make any decisions right now...and—’ she pointed towards her pillows ‘—would you mind passing me my nightgown? By the way,’ she sniffed, ‘your coffee smells wonderful.’

  His expression softened suddenly and he sat up and held out a hand to her.

  She hesitated, then walked round the bed and took it. ‘Hop in,’ he invited.

  ‘This towel is wet.’

  ‘Ah.’ He reached under her pillows and withdrew her nightgown, not her new one but an unexceptional sky-blue silky one with shoestring straps and kites all over it.

  She loosened the towel and he told her to lift up her arms.

  She did so obediently and he slipped the nightgown over her head and smoothed it down her body.

  ‘There, all present and correct,’ he murmured and studied the kites. ‘Could even be fairly topical.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She looked down.

  ‘Assuming you lift the embargo you placed on me—’ he ran his fingers through her damp hair ‘—we—’

  ‘I placed no embargo on you,’ she broke in.

  ‘You told me, through gritted teeth,’ he contradicted, ‘that I had a habit of kissing you and holding you and touching you until you didn’t know if you were on your head or your heels.’

  Mia drew an exasperated breath. ‘All the same...I mean, that’s not an embargo.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Still, no decent guy would fail to realise you disapproved of not knowing if you were on your head or your heels, and therefore desist.’

  Mia stared at him almost cross-eyed as she tried to work out what he was getting at. ‘What has this got to do with my nightgown?’ she asked finally in a heavily frustrated voice.

  ‘Kites,’ he replied succinctly.

  She blinked.

  ‘I see you still don’t understand.’ He put his finger on her chin and smiled at her. ‘We could reach for the sky like your kites—if we were friends and lovers. That’s why it seemed topical.’

  Mia stayed perfectly still for about half a minute. That was as long as she could maintain her sobriety and prevent a smile from curving her lips.

  ‘You’re quite mad, you know,’ she told him.

  ‘Maybe,’ he agreed perfectly seriously, ‘but am I forgiven?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Come in then.’

  She climbed into bed and said in a heartfelt way, ‘That’s much better.’

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Than fighting. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes.’ He put his arms around her but she didn’t see the faint frown in his eyes as he looked over her head.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Mia was fast asleep but once again Carlos found himself watching her as she slept.

  They had made love, not the wild, wanton variety but it had been warm and sensuous all the same. She was generous and delicious as a lover and she came down from the heights in a way that aroused his protective instincts.

  In fact, it occurred to him that he wouldn’t like to think of her vulnerability at those times in another man’s hands. Someone who didn’t realise she gave it her all, like she did so much in her life.

  He’d got up when he’d found he couldn’t sleep and gone outside into the garden. He’d heard the surf pounding on the beach and the breeze sighing through the Norfolk pines that lined the road. He’d listened to it for a time before he’d come back inside and pulled on a sweatshirt and pushed an armchair over towards the bed.

  And, as he watched, he thought back to her as a girl. A girl who’d loved nothing better than to ride like the wind whenever she came home. Almost as if, he mused, her horse and the breeze through that tangled mop of dark hair released her from the constraints of her boarding school.

  She’d been a shy child—you wouldn’t have kn
own she was there until you caught glimpses of her on the estate.

  Then, when she was about fifteen, he reckoned, they’d started riding together when he was home. It had happened quite coincidentally and not often but after a while he’d noticed on the odd occasion that she coloured slightly when he spoke to her.

  He’d done nothing other than limiting his visits to West Windward if he knew she’d be home, said nothing and hoped it would go away for her.

  Only to get hit on the head by a falling branch in a wild storm and to discover Mia Gardiner was no longer a kid. Not only that, but she was a luscious eighteen-year-old and eminently desirable.

  She was still luscious and desirable but there was a lot more to it now. She was clever, she was spirited, she’d fashioned a successful career for herself that didn’t depend on her looks—if his father had been alive to see Mia Gardiner now, he would approve of her much more than he’d ever approved of Nina French.

  He grimaced as this thought came to him. Contrary to his wife’s opinion on the matter, Frank O’Connor had deemed Nina French to be a lovely clothes horse with an empty head and without the internal fortitude to make a good wife and mother.

  Not that his father’s sentiments had surprised him. But they had, unfortunately, he reflected, sent him down a path he was now very much regretting. In fact he was not only regretful but guilty, he thought sombrely.

  Of course the irony of it all hadn’t failed to strike him either. Nina had very much wanted to marry him. Mia did not.

  He stared across the bed at a dim rim of light below the bathroom door. Why had he brought marriage into the equation like throwing a hat in the ring?

  What kind of a marriage did he envisage with Mia, anyway?

  A peaceful one. A marriage to a woman who was practical, clever, resourceful and artistic. Someone who loved kids—his mother should appreciate that, always assuming he could ever get his mother to appreciate anything about Mia.

  A marriage with her living at Bellbird and him coming and going as he saw fit. None of the highs and lows of his relationship with Nina—none of the insidious feelings that marriage to Nina would be like a never-ending grand opera. And of course Mia being forever grateful for the way he’d redeemed himself, and his family.

  He set his teeth because it was an unpleasant thought.

  But there had to be something more to it all, he reflected. The answer that came was not much help to him.

  There was something about Mia Gardiner that got under his skin.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MIA WOKE THE next morning with no idea what to expect.

  But, unaware that Carlos had been up half the night wrestling with his demons, she was surprised to find him fast asleep despite the sunlight filtering into the room, courtesy of the curtains they’d forgotten to close.

  She watched him for a while and wondered why she should not exactly be uneasy about what today would bring but have a question mark in her mind.

  Last night had ended well, she thought, and felt a rush of colour in her cheeks. Ended well was a strange phrase to use to describe an encounter that had left her on cloud nine and aware of her body in ever new and divinely sensual ways.

  What if Carlos wanted to talk about marriage again? How would she respond in the cold light of day?

  She shook her head and decided to go for a swim, thinking that maybe it would wash away all her uncertainties.

  She slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, where she put on her black-and-white bikini and her white terry robe. When she came back into the room he was still fast asleep.

  She blew him a kiss.

  * * *

  It was a fabulous morning. A high blue sky had followed the burnt orange of dawn as the sun rose and the surface of the water was glassy. It was about half tide and long gentle breakers were rolling in to the beach, perfect for body-surfing.

  Mia dropped her robe, ran into the water and dived cleanly beneath the first breaker she came to.

  Half an hour later, she emerged to find Carlos sitting on the beach wearing board shorts but looking moody.

  ‘Hi.’ She picked up her towel. ‘The water is amazing. Don’t you want to go in?’

  ‘I do and I don’t. Would you mind not dripping all over me?’

  Mia clicked her tongue and hid a smile. ‘Sorry.’ She spread out her towel and sat down on it. ‘I’ll come with you if you like.’

  ‘You think I might need my hand held?’ he asked with some animosity. ‘I’ve been surfing since I was six.’

  She put her hand over his. ‘Not that kind of a hand. The hand of friendship, I meant. Some days when you wake up feeling sour and cranky, it helps.’

  She lifted his hand and kissed his palm, then folded his fingers over it and gave him his hand back. ‘There!’

  And she got up and ran down the beach and back into the water.

  He wasn’t far behind her.

  * * *

  ‘You’re a genius,’ Carlos said later, over breakfast. ‘I got up fully prepared—’ he paused and buttered his toast ‘—to be mean and miserable today. Now look what you’ve done.’ He smoothed some marmalade onto the toast.

  They were eating at a beachside café renowned for their breakfast. They both wore jeans and T-shirts. Mia had tied her hair back with a floral scarf.

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said, and smiled.

  ‘Still on the smiley trail,’ he commented.

  ‘Still on the smiley trail,’ she agreed but sobered. ‘What are you doing today?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought I’d go up to Lismore and see my parents, but you don’t need to come.’

  ‘I would come but in fact I’ve got some guys to see this morning—you’d be amazed who ends up in Byron,’ he said a shade ruefully. ‘But they’re actually involved with the equestrian centre, so it’s a good opportunity. Take the car.’

  ‘Oh, I thought I’d hire a car.’ She poured some coffee and sniffed appreciatively. ‘More delicious coffee.’

  ‘This is grown in the area, around Newrybar, I believe. Take the car,’ he repeated.

  ‘I’ve never driven a sports car.’

  ‘So long as you can drive a manual you’ll be fine.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘Mia, do you have any idea what an honour this is?’

  ‘Honour?’ She looked around bewilderedly, at the wooden table and benches, at the other breakfasters and the beach over the railing.

  ‘Not this place,’ he told her. ‘But I have never offered my car to a woman to drive.’

  She stared at him with parted lips. Then she had to laugh. ‘If you think that makes me feel any better about it, you’re mistaken.’ She paused. ‘But thanks, anyway.’

  ‘Don’t forget we’ve got a date tonight,’ were his last words to her before she set off for Lismore.

  ‘I won’t! Thanks again,’ she called back and with a surge of exhilaration swung his beautiful little car into the street.

  * * *

  Mia arrived back late afternoon, safe and sound from her trip to Lismore and without putting so much as the tiniest scratch on his car.

  She was happy with the state of mind she’d found her parents in and the news that her father would be leaving hospital shortly.

  She was greeted on her return with the news that Carlos had gone to Queensland.

  ‘Gone to Queensland?’ she repeated to the receptionist who had waylaid her. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Just over the border by helicopter to look at an equestrian centre. Apparently he’s developing one down south and he wanted to see if he could get any ideas from this one. He asked me to explain that to you, Miss Gardiner, and to assure you he’ll be back in time for your dinner date this evening.’

  ‘Oh. Well, thanks.’

  * * *

  That had been a few hours ago and Mia was now almost dressed for dinner, although there was still no sign of Carlos.

  She was sitting at the dressing table contemplating h
er hair.

  Whereas this time yesterday she’d had a most elegant and intricate style wrought by a hairdresser, she’d washed her hair twice lately, once last night after getting rolled over in the wet sand and once this morning after her swim. Therefore her hair was no longer sleek; it was wild and curly. With an inward sigh she decided there was only one solution—to tie it back severely.

  But she stayed where she was when she’d finished, staring at her image unseeingly as she fiddled with her brush and recalled her parents’ unspoken curiosity on the subject of her and Carlos.

  Assuming she had to explain things to them, she thought, what would she say? He actually asked me to marry him but I said no. Why? Because I still sense...I don’t know...I can’t forget what he said or how he looked when he talked about Nina in the restaurant at Blackheath that night.

  Why? Because it struck me—and he didn’t so much ask me as suggest we get married—that it was a testing the waters sort of proposal. A thought, not a threat, maybe another unreal aspect of our relationship.

  And, for all the happiness he’s brought me, there’s still a shadow of something in him, be it Nina or...

  Her eyes widened suddenly as Carlos strolled in and stood behind her so she was looking at his reflection.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Penny for them?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked huskily.

  ‘I was watching you from the doorway before you caught sight of me. You were deep in serious thought.’

  Mia stood up and smoothed her dress down. ‘I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.’

  ‘No.’ He caught her in his arms. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day, it so happens. And half the night,’ he added a shade dryly.

  She cupped his cheek. ‘Is that why you woke up in a bad mood?’ she asked wryly.

  ‘It was myself I was cranky with. Hey—’ he looked down at her ‘—what have you done to your hair?’

  She explained.

  ‘But I like it wild and curly.’ He raised his hands and started to take out the clips.

  ‘Carlos!’ She stopped.

  ‘Mia?’ He raised an eyebrow at her and continued to take out the clips.

  She grimaced. ‘I guess it’s a waste of time asking you to desist?’