by Margaret Way
“Kind! Not at all. This is absolutely great. Roberto has been so excited.” Delma’s dark eyes fell not all that tenderly on her son. Robbie was still holding tight to Eden’s hand as though he’d known her all of his short life.
“Eden’s got something for me in her bag,” Robbie informed his mother. “And guess what? I’m going to call Poppa Dad. Just like Eden.”
“Oh I think you can call him Poppa for a while yet.” Delma reached over and drew her son to her.
“I expect you’d like to be shown to your room, Eden,” she said. “Actually it’s a suite. I know you’ll be very happy there during your stay.”
“I’ll have your luggage sent up, Eden.” Owen turned to his wife. “Any word from Lang?”
“A brief phone call,” Delma said. “I invited him to dinner just as you said. When Eden is settled we must throw a big party.”
“That’ll be great!” Robbie cried excitedly, fighting free of his mother’s grip. “I won’t go to bed.”
“Oh yes, you will, my lamb,” Delma said. “Remember what I told you now. You must behave yourself while Eden’s here.”
“He has been behaving himself, Delma,” Owen said just a shade testily. “When you’re ready, Eden, we’ll have coffee or a cold drink in the solarium. Then I’ll show you through the house.”
“Lovely!” Eden answered blithely. “Coming, Robbie?” Her gaze swept up the spectacular floating staircase where she guessed the bedrooms would be.
“You betcha!” Robbie, a few feet away, rushed to her side. “I’m not going to let you go back to Brisbane,” he cried. “You have to stay here.”
“Thank you, Robbie.” Eden smiled. She had already decided he was the nicest little brother she could possibly want.
As for Delma, she did her level best to relax and look happy. For all of her married life she had lived with the awful fear one day her husband would leave her and she would be alone. This when Owen had never remotely suggested he wanted out of the marriage. It was just that she knew he didn’t love her. That made her feel bad. But he did love Robbie and this girl. And why not? They were his children. They had even taken to one another on sight. Delma knew her nerves would be screaming every minute the girl was around. Though she had gone dutifully ahead inviting Owen’s daughter to stay, she had come face to face with the fact she couldn’t wait for her to leave.
Woman-like Delma’s sentiments wouldn’t have come as a surprise to Eden but she didn’t want to spoil her visit by giving it too much thought.
That evening she debated leaving her hair loose or gathering it into an updated French pleat. It was a beautiful night, but warmer and more humid than what she was used to. The house was air-conditioned but she had left her French doors wide open so she could revel in the great copper tropical moon and the exotic fragrances from the garden. They wafted in heady gusts with the slightest movement of the breeze. She could even isolate the myriad scents: red ginger blossom, jasmine, gardenia, the many-coloured oleanders, the Mexican white orange blossom, and the delicious waxy frangipani that flowered profusely beneath her balcony. Delma had spent a great deal of time consulting with their landscape gardener and the result was of great credit to them both. Not that they didn’t have a head start with the spectacular flora and the growth patterns of the tropics. In the end she pinned her hair up, coaxing a few becoming tendrils to curl around her face and onto her bare nape.
Dinner would be at eight o’clock allowing Lang, who had only that day returned from a trip to Fiji where the company was negotiating to build a luxury resort, plenty of time to arrive. The thought of seeing him again had her quivering in anticipation. Fate had taken a long time to smile on her. She couldn’t risk allowing herself to fall in love with a man who could very easily break her heart. And that was her perception of him. A dangerous, heart-breaking man. Possibly ruthless? Hadn’t she experienced his icy contempt when he thought her aim was to break up Owen’s marriage? He had also demonstrated where his loyalties lay. To his long-time friend, Delma, though she was certain there was nothing improper between them. But there hadn’t been any of that marvellous compassion for her.
Be warned, Eden, she thought. This was a man who could deliver heaven or hell.
She stood in front of the long wall of mirrors studying her reflection. It was obvious from what she had seen of Delma that Delma loved clothes and wore them very well. Her own dress was a recent addition to her wardrobe. The cut was simple, a streamlined slip dress but the combination of pale blue chiffon with a turquoise silk lining was really beautiful, the turquoise silk defining the sweeping V of the neckline. She took pleasure in the fact she had given the young designer a flying start by buying and wearing his clothes at various well-attended functions. Her mother and Redmond had been invited everywhere. She had joined the list as a matter of course.
It was getting on towards seven-thirty. Robbie, as happy and excited as ever a child could be, had gone off, strangely unprotesting, to bed. Eden loved him already. He had accompanied Eden and their father on their inspection of the very large house and grounds, tumbling, doing somersaults, generally showing off, in the process thoroughly exhausting himself.
She stepped into her matching evening sandals then took one last look around the beautiful guest bedroom. It was as Delma had told her, a suite with a large dressing room and adjacent en suite. A spacious sitting room to relax opened out to the other side. It was all very comfortable and inviting, decorated in blues, yellows and white.
Downstairs the house was very quiet despite the soft sensuous music that was being piped through the home. Debussy. She recognised Perfumes of the Night. She already knew and had met the household staff of two, a husband and wife team of Italian extraction. The wife was an excellent cook and housekeeper—“invaluable with Roberto”—the husband equally invaluable as house manager and supervisor of the two full-time gardeners.
Probably Delma was still dressing, though they had agreed to meet in the library for a pre-dinner drink. Eden made her way through the living room, the main reception room, to the library beyond, pausing to admire all the beautiful paintings and antiques which had been mixed with wonderful contemporary sofas and armchairs on a large scale to suit the sheer space. Delma and her interior designer hadn’t done things by halves, she considered. She couldn’t imagine what the final cost must have been.
A soft smile on her face, she continued on to the library. The very last thing she expected was to come face to face with the man who was dominating too much of her consciousness.
Lang.
As she moved into the room he was striding out, a man on a mission, a faint frown between his ink-black brows, his whole demeanour one of dark, barely leased vitality. She found herself almost throwing up a hand; a form of self-defence against his challenging male aura.
“Eden!” He recovered first, his brilliant ice-grey glance leaping over her; shocking, thrilling, shaking her to the very core. He looked like a man in undisputed possession of her, his own world and every other horizon in sight.
She stood there, momentarily so transfixed she had to offer an explanation. “Lang! You startled me.” Indeed her hand went to her breast.
“And you startle me afresh.” His gaze shifting with shocking intimacy to her mouth.
She spent urgent seconds trying to hold on to her composure, only to have her efforts totally destroyed as he bent his marvellous dark head and brushed her cheek with his lips.
“So you’re here at last!”
He spoke lightly, welcomingly, but he had her whole body throbbing. She knew she flushed. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. Still that sensuous romantic music spilled into the room.
“And I’m thrilled! It’s all so beautiful,” she replied. “So spectacular and exotic. It’s been the greatest joy to meet Robbie.”
Lang laughed. “He’s a great kid. I thought I might hear him running through the house.”
She smiled, too. “He’s exhausted himself doing cartwheels in t
he grounds. Dad showed me all over the place. Robbie came, too.” She paused to ask. “Were you off somewhere?”
“Actually out to the car. I have a little present for you. Something in the way of a peace offering. I thought I had it with me.” He patted his breast pocket.
“Really?” She was charmed and amazed.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said dryly. “I never dreamed when I found these things they’d be ideal for you.”
“Now you’ve really got me interested.” Pleasure flooded her.
“Come out to the car with me,” he invited, swooping to take possession of her hand.
He moved like some sleek powerful cat. The warm pressure of his fingers around hers carrying like a current to every nerve.
“What a glorious moon!” She was panting a little. Not only from trying to keep up.
“Damn, I’m sorry.” He halted, staring down at her. “I’m going too fast.”
“Just a little.” Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might fly out.
“Our copper moon of the tropics,” he commented, lifting his face to the gold-dusted sky, certain he had never had feelings like this before.
They reached his car, a Jaguar. It was unlocked. He reached into the glove box, withdrawing a narrow box. “A new beginning,” he said suavely. “Welcome to Paradise, Eden.” For once his vibrant voice held no trace of mockery.
“Am I to open it?”
“Of course.” He clicked his tongue. “Right here and now.”
She didn’t hold back removing the gold gift wrapping and exposing a dark velvet jewellery box.
“Go on,” he urged, wondering how many thousand times he had thought of this girl. Sweet and exasperating in equal measure. He wasn’t a man to be obsessed.
“I want to.”
“Let’s move closer to the light.” He led her out of the shadows of the palms and onto the path. The sky was filled with a million glittering stars, the air redolent of gardenia and frangipani.
Excitement was invading every part of her. She went with him in a kind of mesmeric trance, her feelings intense. Inside the box was a beautiful necklace of modern design. She could see little V-shaped waves of silver set at intervals with bezelled gemstones. She would have to get into the light to fully appreciate what she was looking at.
“Lang, this is lovely.” She exclaimed, quite shocked. “I’ve done nothing to deserve this.”
“Not so far, admittedly,” he laughed. “But some things are meant to be. Your eyes are an almost identical colour. The stones are sapphires. My father used to take me gem fossicking when I was a boy. I found them all at a place called Anakie in South Queensland. Do you know it?”
“Of course.” Even her voice trembled. “It’s famous, but I’ve never been there. No one in my family ever did anything so exciting as gem fossicking.”
“You can still do it,” he told her carelessly, as though he had a trip lined up for the future.
“The stones I’ve had set are very fine. Violet sapphire. Like your eyes. I have others, green and yellow, a few pink and orange. I’ll show them to you one day but these are the finest, most beautiful, almost tanzanite in colour. The setting is white-gold. Here,” he said gently, impatiently, “give me that paper.” He took the gold wrapping and ribbon from her, went back to the car, and threw it in.
“I want that,” she told him breathlessly. “A keepsake.” Two minutes back in her life and he had taken possession of her.
“Which just goes to show how appreciative you are.” He walked back to her, a dynamic figure even by moonlight. “Put it on. I want to see it on you. You’ve even done me a great favour wearing that dress.”
He turned her quickly so she couldn’t see the leap of fire that came into his eyes. With her bare shoulders so seductively presented to him, her hair up, revealing her swan’s neck, he was easily able to fix the clasp. A violent, totally rash compulsion to twist her around into his arms hammered away at him when he prided himself on his control. He wanted to find her lovely mouth, to let the desire that was in him out. He wanted to kiss every inch of her flower-like skin. Scores and scores of kisses, nibbles, tiny bites, tender and fierce. He wanted to feel her naked body beneath him, quivering, stirring, rippling to every stoke of his hand. He wanted her delicate nipples tight roses of sensation, in his mouth. He wanted to give in to this excruciating pressure, knowing if he ever did nothing would be the same again.
Goddammit! Why did passion have to come in the shape of Owen’s daughter? he inwardly raged. One day it might be too hard to check. What then?
He could feel the hushed stillness in her body as though his desires were transparent. This he couldn’t have. He removed his hands, deliberately keeping his voice low and casual. “Time to go back into the house, Eden. They’ll be wondering where we are.” He took her arm, taking care to hold it loosely, drawing quiet, regular breaths to try to rid himself of some of the sexual pressure.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Lang. It’s really too much.” Despite herself she swayed towards him.
“Not at all.” His voice made it perfectly clear it was a platonic gesture. “I’m only glad the sapphires have been put to excellent use.”
“Then I’m honoured.” She took his cue and answered brightly.
Once inside the foyer, Eden went to the tall gilded mirror above a mantle-topped console to take a good look at her necklace and admire it. It was even more beautiful under the brilliant light from the overhead chandelier. The little waves of white-gold gleamed, the sapphires, eight in number, all showing a wonderful depth of colour that enhanced her eyes.
His lean, wide-shouldered figure loomed up behind her. His skin was polished bronze from the tropical sun. The overhead light struck a near purple lustre into his crow-black hair. Against such darkness was it any wonder his brilliant eyes came as a mesmeric shock? Beside him though her own hair was as dark, her skin looked as pale as milk. He must have been thinking the same thing because he said, “You’ll have to wear a hat every time you go out into the sun. And sun block.”
“Don’t worry.” She nodded. “I always do. My mother had the same skin. Strangely enough it doesn’t take a tan. Neither does it burn, not that I give the sun a chance.”
“Then it’s your great fortune to have skin like a camellia.” He could have added, “It’s also damned sexy,” but he didn’t. It just could be a colossal blunder to become involved with Owen’s cherished newfound daughter. Feeling the way he did, the outcome could be unredeemable, irreparable damage. He’d, after all, plenty of experience. He thought Eden, beautiful as she was, hadn’t. In fact her fastidious air stabbed at his heart.
As they walked back to the library he was silent and so was she. Both were aware of the intensity of the air between them. It ran like a turbulent current just below the seemingly smooth surface. Both of them, from the day of their meeting, had entered a kind of wilderness area. It was fascinating, to be sure, but with many a potential hazard and whitewater rapids.
The only thing it was really safe to talk about was the weather, Eden thought. Even with “family” she had to be so careful. Her relationship with Delma would never be close but they were trying their best.
Owen and Delma were waiting for them. Delma in rich yellow, her auburn-tinted hair gleaming, was sitting in an armchair sipping a glass of champagne. Owen was busy mixing a pitcher of martinis. Both looked towards them smilingly as they walked in the door.
“You timed that nicely,” Owen called, his dark eyes full of interest and humour. “I caught sight of you both disappearing into the garden.”
“You’re too good, Owen,” Lang mocked. “You never miss a trick. Actually we went to collect a little present I had made up for Eden.”
“A little present!” Eden scoffed. She went to her father and kissed his cheek. “It’s this lovely necklace.” She touched it with an elegant finger.
Delma rose immediately, full of curiosity. “Good grief!” she said, in apparent amaz
ement.
“The sapphires have been waiting for someone with Eden’s violet-blue eyes,” Lang offered lazily.
“Lang fossicked for them when he was a boy.” Eden turned full on to the light so her father and Delma could admire the beauty of the stones.
“But it’s perfectly stunning!” Delma breathed in a kind of wonderment.
“You know I should have thought of something like this,” Owen admitted honestly.
“Plenty of time, Dad,” Eden joked.
“This is so nice of you, Lang.” Owen peered at the necklace keenly. Openly admiring. “I really need my glasses. It suits you beautifully, sweetheart.”
“Then I’m happy,” Lang pronounced. “Those stones have been closed away for far too long.”
“Couldn’t you have given them to Lara?” Delma asked, mock-playfully. “Our friend Lara has beautiful blue eyes.” Delma and Lara Hansen, one of Lang’s long line of ex-girlfriends were good friends. Indeed Delma had been hoping for a match there.
“I don’t think I’ve really noticed,” Lang drawled. “How good are those martinis, Owen?”
“Not to worry, they’re perfect,” Owen laughed, his dark eyes warm, full head of dark hair swept back from his broad brow. “Just show the vermouth to the gin. Ice cold. A rub of lemon peel around the rim.”
“Great!” Lang said. “I can feel all the little tensions of the day dissolving.” Even as he said it he could see Delma fighting mixed emotions. Delma had a proprietary streak. He knew she considered him her friend. Eden was entirely new on the scene. The outsider. He watched her drain her glass quickly and set it down. All of them were on a voyage of discovery, he thought. He only hoped all of them were going to cope.
CHAPTER SIX
THE days flew by. Incomparable blue and gold. There was so much to do and see. And the surroundings so different. Eden spent the first weeks of her stay in the most stimulating way. She had the warm loving companionship of her father, Robbie’s bubbling high spirits, and the whole glorious district to see. If Delma didn’t really want her at least she was making an effort to hide the fact. That brilliantly fine morning they were to visit the latest Carter-Forsyth enterprise, a country club development in an area of pristine natural beauty some thirty miles further up the coast.