by Janet Woods
* * * *
She kept her eye on the window whilst she dotted smarties over the packet cake she’d made. Bronwyn was due to arrive with Todd any minute. Her aunt was working on the many requests for star charts she received in the mail.
When a car turned in from the road her heart nearly stopped. Patrick!
Her disappointment was agonizing when she heard the engine still running after the passengers had got out.
Rushing to the door she caught the running boy up in her arms and hugged him tight. Ah, how familiar he smelled, she thought, burying her face in his neck. Smothered in kisses, she tentatively glanced at Patrick. One icy glance froze any hopes she might have harbored. He’d hadn’t forgiven her for lying to him, and looked as though he never would.
Despite her despair, she had a wonderful day. Bronwyn seemed content to leave Todd in her charge whilst she chatted to Aunt Vera, but Ellie was sensitive to the fact she was being covertly observed. Her panicky anticipation of encountering Patrick again was alleviated when Andrew turned up to collect them.
He drew her aside, his smile enigmatic. ‘I’ll be in Melbourne next week. Perhaps we could have dinner together.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek and whispered in her ear. ‘Bring Anne along.’
Bronwyn’s lips pursed slightly as her sharp eyes took in the exchange. ‘Is it trouble you’ll be bringing on my house, then?’ Ellie heard her say as the car drove away.
A lump formed in her throat when Todd smiled Patrick’s smile at her through the back window. She blew him a kiss, and another for Patrick. It crossed her mind when the car disappeared from sight, that it might be the last time she saw Todd.
* * * *
‘Why are people so nasty?’ Anne shuffled through a stack of letters in her hand. ‘Last week you had five proposals, fourteen begging letters and three obscene phone calls. How do these people ferret out where you live?’
‘From the telephone book, I suppose.’ She scowled. ‘I’ll sort them out later. They’re getting fewer every week. Eventually, they’ll stop.’
Anne gazed at her. ‘Why don’t you come to Sydney with me and Andrew this weekend? I worry about you being alone with all this going on.’
‘Don’t be a twit!’ Making an effort Ellie smiled at her. ‘I’ve got plenty to do. I’ve decided to give the house a spring clean.’ Picking up her car keys, she grinned. ‘Besides, a man who drives all that way to see you twice a week is obviously nuts about you. He won’t want me playing gooseberry.’
When a dreamy expression crossed Anne’s face she felt a small stab of envy. ‘Andrew’s invited me to meet his parents. Do you think he feels the same way about me as I feel about him?’
Ellie knew he did - why else would she be secretly meeting him for lunch? To help him choose an engagement ring for Anne, that’s why. He planned a romantic proposal.
Her face softened as she picked up her bag. ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised if I had to look for a new housemate shortly. Come on, Anne, let’s go. I don’t want to be late for work.’
* * * *
Ellie came wide awake with her heart thumping. She hadn’t dreamed it! Someone was pounding on the door.
* * * *
Thoughts of an accident flying through her mind she scrambled from her bed and threw on her dressing gown. Unease gripped her when a second thought blotted out the first. What if it was one of the nutters who’d written to her?
Grabbing the quartz egg from her dressing table for protection, she crept down the narrow stairs of the small terrace house. Should she call the police? No - the doors and windows were locked and she’d taken the precaution of punching the police station’s number into the telephone’s memory. All she had to do was lift the receiver and press a button if she needed them.
‘Who is it?’ Her voice hardly registered on her fear-dried vocal chords. ‘Who’s there?’ she said more aggressively.
Patrick’s voice nearly blasted a hole through the door. ‘The big bad wolf. Do I have to stand in this rain all night?’
She’d hardly released the variety of recently installed locks, when Patrick strode through the door and into the lounge. ‘Where is he?’
She followed after him. ‘Where’s who?’
‘Don’t play the innocent with me.’ He gave her a scathing look. ‘Andrew’s car is parked outside your home. Who else would I mean?’
A glow of immense satisfaction appeared in the region of Ellie’s diaphragm, though she managed to pull a concerned mask over her face. It was too early to look smug; nevertheless her voice was as smooth and golden as melted butter
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not if you discount the fact that I’m about to murder my brother.’ He gave her a suitably threatening smile. ‘You made me an offer once. I’m here to take you up on it. This weekend I’ve decided to be your trinket. Reciprocal arrangements - remember? God knows, you paid enough for the privilege.’
‘So I did.’ His eyes became incensed when she grinned slightly.
‘I imagine you conveniently forgot to mention it to my brother.’
Gritted teeth, no less!
‘I’m here to do that.’
Magnificent!
She didn’t say a word when he headed for the stairs and took them two at a time, merely moved into the kitchen and plugged in the kettle.
‘Did you check under all the beds?’ she inquired sweetly when he came back down. ‘And what about the clothes closet, he might be dangling from a hanger.’
‘Witch.’ His growl sent tingles rioting through her. ‘You’re alone. Why has Andrew left his car here?’
‘He and Anne have flown to Sydney for the weekend.’
‘Anne?’ He looked startled. ‘My mother was under the impression Andrew was visiting you.’
‘Why would she think that?’ Because Andrew had planted it in her mind deliberately, knowing she’d tell Patrick, knowing Patrick would eventually act on it. She grinned. Andrew might be quiet and gentle but he was just as devious as Patrick. Hadn’t he kept his romance with Anne a secret from them all. The affection Ellie had always felt for Andrew doubled.
‘What’s so funny?’
She slid a cup of coffee towards him. ‘Did Bronwyn send you to rescue Andrew from my clutches, or was it your own idea?’
‘Stop being sarcastic.’ Water dripped into his coffee from his hair. ‘I don’t need reminding I’ve made a fool of myself.’ His fingers curled around the cup for warmth. ‘As soon as I’ve had this I’ll get out of your hair.’
Like hell he would! ‘I don’t think so, Patch.’ Fraction by fraction her heart picked up speed. ‘You owe me.’
His eyes flicked to her face. ‘I’ll pretend you never said that.’
‘And I’ll pretend you never stormed in here breathing fire and brimstone.’ The smile she gave him was bitter. ‘We can go through life pretending we never met - never made love. If you pretend hard enough you might convince yourself you’ll be happy without me.’
‘I might.’ Pain etched his features as he rose to his feet. ‘I did it before.’
‘Why would you want to do it a second time?’ She sensed his weakness and closed in on it. ‘It’s yourself you’re punishing, isn’t it? You blame yourself for what happened to Todd. You don’t believe you deserve to be happy.’
His eyes assumed a wary, haunted look as her words sank in.
‘It’s nothing to do with my money or background,’ she said gently, ‘and nothing to do with revenge. You hate the way you are and haven’t got the honesty to admit it. You’re an emotional cripple, Patch Morgan.’ Torn between guilt and love her voice became a raw whisper. ‘I don’t know why I love you.’
She’d pushed as far as she dared. His breath was ragged, his jaw so tight with tension she was scared it would snap. Time to beat a hasty retreat.
‘I’ll get you some blankets,’ she murmured, making a careful detour around him. ‘You can sleep on the couch. It’s too late to go home tonight.’
> She was trembling when she slipped back into bed. Would he still be here in the morning, or had she lost him? Her heart ached for him, and despair churned a heavy hand through her emotions. A sob gathered its force together in her chest. Burying her face in the pillow she cried herself back to sleep.
* * * *
The smell of grilling bacon brought her out of darkness. A mug on the bedside table swam like a miracle into her unwilling vision. The grotesque goblin on the side grinned at her, and stream writhed an invitation from its rim. It was her own special mug. Had Patrick guessed, or was he just being sarcastic?
She took it to the bathroom with her and swigged its contents before showering, then shrugged into her red wool outfit and sauntered downstairs.
Blue eyes carefully scanned her face. ‘You have rings under your eyes. Didn’t you sleep well?’
She shrugged. ‘I had a guilty conscience.’
‘I can imagine.’ He nodded towards the chair. ‘Sit down and I’ll serve you breakfast.’
Why was he being nice? Her mind clicked into fantasy mode. Weed killer in the tea? She frowned. That would be a woman’s weapon. He’d be more direct. He’d look her in the eyes whilst he throttled her.
‘I know that look, Ellie. You’re scheming.’
‘I was wondering what method you’d use if you intended to murder me.’
‘I’d pour cement over you and make you part of a floor.’ He grinned as if relishing the thought. ‘That way I’d be able to walk all over you.’ Setting the breakfast on the table he took the opposite seat. ‘There was a phone call for you a couple of hours ago. The man left a message.’
Ellie felt sick. ‘I don’t think I want to hear it.’
* * * *
‘I don’t imagine he’ll ring again.’ His finger traced a line down one of hers. ‘Does it happen often?’
Faced with his concern she experienced a delicious sense of vulnerability. ‘Since that report about the money appeared in the paper I’ve been plagued with sick letters and phone calls. The latest batch is on the sideboard if you want to read them.’
He took her at her word whilst she ate her breakfast. A variety of emotions scarred the disgust on his face when he read the first one. ‘I think I get the drift.’ His hands fanned the letters out. ‘The scent of money seems to bring out the worst in people.’
‘Yes.’ Recognizing her aunt’s crabbed writing she extracted a letter from the pack. ‘You can burn the rest.’
‘I guess I deserve to be lumped with the rest of these perverts.’
His self-disgust startled her and brought pain to her eyes. ‘You made it quite clear that money was a turn-off for you.’
‘I misjudged your motives.’ A wry smile played across his mouth. ‘My ego got in the way of my good sense.’
‘It seems to do that a lot.’ Heart soaring at the unexpected admission, she flipped him a grin. ‘Perhaps it’s a good time to tell you I still have a small legacy stashed away. My mother left it for me.’
‘Small I can handle.’ Grinning back at her, he rose to his feet.
Alarm chased her grin away. ‘You’re not leaving, are you?’
‘I’m going to get Todd’s picture from the car. He insisted I give it to you.’
‘How is he?’
‘Missing you.’ He smiled. ‘I took your advice and enrolled him in preschool. He loves it.’
Ellie ripped her aunt’s letter open after he’d gone. She started to laugh. Enclosed with a note of apology was the last page of her star chart. Her spirits rose as her eyes scanned the page. Anxiously she glanced at the calendar. July the eighteenth.
A proposal from a Scorpio may not be all it appears. A little magic will provide the answer.
What was that supposed to mean? She hastily shoved the paper in the drawer when she heard him returning.
‘You’ve framed it.’ Slanting him a glance she asked the question uppermost in her mind. ‘Did you show it to his counselor?’
Patrick raised an eyebrow. ‘She told me the drowning man represents his past.’ There was a slight hesitation and a clearing of his throat as he set the picture on the table. ‘The rest of the picture is how he sees his future. Todd loves you; he wants you to be his mother. I guess it’s not a bad idea at that.’ He took a deep breath. ‘You said you wanted to marry and have a family, and my mother thinks you’re just the person he needs. What do you think?’
That he’d have to come up with a better reason to back up his proposal. Did he really think she’d marry him to provide Todd with a mother? Of all the cold-blooded - idiotic - mercenary ... She clamped a lid on her dismay and muttered faintly. ‘Words fail me, Patrick. I’ll think about it.’
‘No rush.’
Was that relief on his face? Not so fast, Patch - you don’t get off the hook that easily. ‘I’ll let you know tonight.’
Her smile was whipped cream, her voice syrup. ‘You’ll stay for dinner? I’ve been taking cooking lessons - I need a victim to practice on.’
* * * *
He winced. ‘I should explain that I can’t offer you much until my business gets off the ground. We’d have to rent a house. You’ll probably have to work in the office until I can afford staff.’ He was beginning to sound desperate. ‘Have you ever used a computer?’
‘If the need arises I can do a course. If I need to learn how to lay bricks you can teach me, and if you want a plumber you could take me on as an apprentice. I’m fairly adaptable. In fact,’ She poked him in the chest, ‘I could possible grow wings and fly without a broomstick if I put my mind to it. Now, shut up! I have to go to the market.’
‘I’ll hang around here,’ he muttered, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else but here.
And escape from my clutches? No way, Patch! ‘I thought you might take me out to lunch and carry the shopping home.’ She choked out a laugh. ‘Call it a course in husbandry. You might need it if I accept your romantic proposal.’
The sardonic expression reasserted itself. ‘I get the message. You want more than my son, you’re after my blood.’ Taking her hand in his he placed a kiss in the palm. ‘Will that do for a start?’
‘I can think of a better place for it.’
‘So can I,’ he growled, his smile bringing color to her cheeks. ‘But if you want to go out shopping you’ll have to wait to find out exactly where.’
* * * *
After the market Ellie headed for Little Bourke Street in Chinatown to shop for the authentic spices her recipe needed. She’d left Patrick in the foyer of the restaurant where they intended to lunch.
Checking her watch, she handed her list of ingredients to the man behind the counter and looked round her in fascination. There were coolie hats, millet brooms, and various dried bits and pieces hanging from strings. The pungent odor of the place wasn’t unpleasant, but it made her throat tickle.
A brightly colored dragon kite with a long tail caught her eye and she added it to her purchases. Todd would love it. Just about to pay the bill, she spotted a string of tiny muslin bags hanging from a hook.
‘What’s in those?’
The shopkeeper smiled. ‘Very good magic. You want a man - you put the potion in the drink and infuse, and you get the man.’
Magic will provide the answer. She grinned. A Chinese love potion was just the thing. ‘I’ll take one.’
‘Todd will think it’s his birthday,’ Patrick said when she showed him the kite. ‘He’ll love it.’
‘When is his birthday?’
‘He’ll be five in October.’ The touch of devilment in Patrick’s smile belied the innocence of his eyes. ‘He’s a Libran, didn’t I tell you?’
They ate a leisurely lunch. When it was over, she detoured to Williamstown.
‘Nice bay,’ he remarked, ‘and a pretty place.’ He smiled at her, his eyes questioning. ‘I can’t believe you brought me here to admire the Victorian architecture.’
‘I wanted you to see the house I grew up in.’ She drew the car t
o a halt in front of a modest house. ‘My parents bought this when they were first married.’
Patrick gave her a thoughtful look. ‘I was under the impression you grew up in a mansion surrounded by servants.’
* * * *
‘That just shows how wrong you can be.’ She turned to faced him.‘Despite making a lot of money from real estate my father never forgot his humble beginnings. He loved this house because he loved my mother. When she died, he hired a woman to do the housework and care for me during the week. At weekends, he looked after me himself.’
Her eyes were drawn to the garden. ‘The last two years of his life he hardly went into his office. He used to potter around the garden. When he died, he was pruning the rose bushes my mother had planted.’ She tore her eyes away and started the car. ‘I imagine he would have been thinking of her when he died.’
‘Thanks for telling me.’ Patrick’s voice was soft. ‘It must bring back painful memories.’
‘No, Patrick.’ Her smile became tender and her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Being loved can never be painful.’
* * * *
‘Nice meal, Ellie. what did you say that dish was called?’
‘Gwo Lo Yook.’
‘Show off.’ In the candlelight Patrick’s face was relaxed. ‘Can you say it in English?’
‘Fried pork in sweet and sour sauce.’ She gave him her most beguiling smile. ‘Would you like some more wine?’
‘What’s your hurry? I haven’t finished this one yet.’ She held her breath as he picked it up and sniffed it. ‘It smells a bit odd.’
‘Mine’s all right.’ She offered encouragement by sipping her own.
‘You haven’t added anything?’ he murmured, suspicion clouding his eyes.
‘Only a Chinese love potion.’ It was easy to look innocent when one didn’t lie.
‘I think I’d prefer coffee, Eloise,’ he drawled.
‘Coward.’ She rose to her feet and crossed to the percolator.
‘I can’t let that go unchallenged.’ He picked up his glass as she turned. ‘Let’s drink a toast to love potions.’