“He certainly is handsome,” Camille agreed, wryly amused. “You’ve inherited his hair and his eyes. So what was that with ‘Marissa’? When Sean got it wrong, you didn’t bother to correct him.”
“I like it,” Melissa said, looking a shade guilty. “Don’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. It suits you. It has a Mediterranean ring to it, but you were christened Melissa. It was your mother’s choice. Doesn’t that matter?”
“Of course!” Melissa said with a tight frown. And then she repeated what she’d said about her mother before. “Mommy adored me. She was so proud of me. She thought I was the most beautiful child in the world. She wasn’t to know I’d be a wizened-up little monkey.”
Camille set down her coffee. “Wherever did you hear that?”
“Grandmother told me. She said that’s what Mommy said when I was born.”
“But, darling, most little babies are red and wrinkled when they’re born. That goes away. Your grandmother was just trying to make you laugh.”
“No, she wasn’t,” Melissa shook her head emphatically. “My grandmother hates Daddy and she hates me.”
Camille winced, shocked by all the cruel talk this child had been exposed to. “Darling, we’ll talk about this later. Don’t let’s spoil our day.” She smiled. “I’m thrilled with the way you look. I know you are, too. You have beautiful hair and now we can see it to its full advantage.”
“And my head feels so light!” Melissa’s sense of hurt and injury fell away. “I was floating when I came out of the salon. Daddy’ll love it, won’t he?”
“I’m sure he will,” Camille replied. “In fact, I’ve no doubt.”
When they finally arrived home after an enjoyable shopping trip, it was to find Clare’s car parked in the drive. Immediately Melissa’s bright mood darkened.
“Oh, no!” She grimaced. “That’s Clare’s car.”
“She’s not going to trouble you, is she?”
“She certainly is. Daddy says I have to be polite to her, but it’s hard. She hasn’t got nice eyes. She doesn’t mean what she says, either.”
“Well, we just have to remember our good manners,” Camille said. “I won’t be able to stay all that long, darling. I have to catch up on a few things at home.”
“Don’t let her chase you away.”
“She isn’t chasing me.”
“Yes, she is. I want you to stay until Daddy gets home. Please, Camille. I really need you.”
Camille could quite see that might be true.
The front door was open, but Camille rang the bell. It echoed through the hall, summoning Miss Larkins.
“Oh, it’s you, Melissa. Miss Guilford.” She hurried on down the stairs. To her credit her face showed pleasure at the dramatic change in Melissa’s appearance. “Why, Melissa, how nice you look! I never realized what a change of hairstyle might do.”
“I don’t care what you think,” Melissa said rudely.
“Of course,” the nanny said. “It was stupid of me to try to be friends.”
“Don’t listen to her, Camille,” Melissa warned. “There hasn’t been one nice thing she’s ever said.”
“What I’d like to propose,” Camille said, “is that you start over this minute. Give each other a chance. Can you do that, Melissa? Miss Larkins?”
The woman nodded. “I’m here to look after Melissa in every way I can.” She turned to the little girl. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Melissa?” Camille prompted her by shaking her shoulder. “I don’t like her,” Melissa said. “And I never will.”
Miss Larkins’s fixed smile grew strained. “Shall we go upstairs, Melissa? I see you’ve got lots of lovely shopping bags.”
“Camille bought me things I like,” Melissa kept up her belligerence.
“Melissa, you have beautiful clothes,” Miss Larkins chided her. “Any other little girl would be very grateful.”
“These are casual clothes, Miss Larkins,” Camille said in a soothing voice. “I know Melissa has the best of everything, but on occasion she wants to look more casual—like her friends.”
“I only wish she could make some friends!” Miss Larkins said tartly. “The last little girl she had here I had to send home with Mr. Lombard’s chauffeur. Melissa doesn’t relate to other children at all well. She won’t share.”
“I will too!” Melissa frowned ferociously. “Amanda was trying to take the clothes off my doll. She’s a good doll with a porcelain head and hand-set eyes. Not a silly Barbie.”
“I think I sense a tantrum coming on. I’ll take care of her now, Miss Guilford. I’m sure you’re wanting to get away.”
“She is not!” Melissa stamped her foot and shouted, “Camille’s staying with me until Daddy gets home.”
“For God’s sake, what’s happening out here?” a woman’s voice demanded. They all looked toward the living room as Clare Tennant walked through the archway into the hallway. She looked extremely elegant—black silk with pearls, diamond-and-sapphire clasp at the front.
“Shit!” Melissa exclaimed softly. Yet it was audible enough for Clare Tennant to hear—and look suitably shocked.
I beg your pardon, young lady. What kind of word is that?”
“It’s what you say when you’re mad,” Melissa declared.
“Well, not at six years of age. What do you think will happen when I tell your father?”
“He’ll forgive me,” Melissa answered confidently. “He’s heard it before.”
“I daresay, but he wouldn’t expect it from his daughter.” The look she gave the child was full of censure.
Seriously concerned about what Melissa might come out with next, Camille intervened. “Perhaps we can leave it for the time being.”
“You condone such behavior, do you?” Clare Tennant turned on her, her eyes going from Camille’s stylishly shod feet to the top of her head.
“It’s not a word I care to hear Melissa use, but times have undoubtedly changed. She probably picked it up in the playground. I don’t think we should make too much of it. Nicholas can speak to her.”
“Nicholas?” Clare Tennant gave her a glance sharper than a dagger.
“Perhaps you could take Melissa upstairs, Nanny,” Camille said in a calm voice. Melissa was wound up like a top. Miss Larkins was showing signs of alarm. “You might want to take the things we bought and hang them up. Go with Nanny, Melissa,” she said firmly. “I’ll be up shortly.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
“Oh, all right then. Don’t be long.” Almost meekly Melissa took the nanny’s outstretched hand.
Camille watched their progress up the staircase until they reached the gallery, at which point Melissa turned and waved. Then Camille’s gaze returned to Clare Tennant, only to find the woman staring at her with such malevolence Camille felt herself go cold.
“After all I’ve said to you, you’re going to keep pursuing Nick.”
Camille closed her eyes briefly. She didn’t want to face this odd woman. “Mrs. Tennant, I don’t have to answer to you,” she said dully.
“You might be the one person who could stop me from becoming Nick’s wife.”
Was she entirely sane? Camille frowned. “Are you sure that’s not just your own obsession?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Clare Tennant retorted with a look of challenge. “Nick and I were close even before Carole died.”
Camille almost visibly recoiled. “Did she get in the way of your obsession, too?” She spoke without thinking. “Did you stalk her as you’re stalking me?” It was a stab in the dark, and it didn’t appear to come off.
Clare Tennant stiffened in outrage. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Camille didn’t shift her gaze. “Haven’t you been following me, calling me on the phone?”
The older woman made a violently dismissive gesture with her hands. “You’re mad!”
“I don’t think so. I’ve spoken ab
out it to the police.”
“And you mentioned my name?” Clare Tennant stared at her in horror. “You should take care. I’ll see you in court, Miss Guilford. You’re not an heiress anymore.”
“So you deny it?”
“I don’t have to listen to this kind of thing from you.” She turned away.
“Perhaps I should apologize. I didn’t mention your name to the police, Mrs. Tennant. But you have been making veiled threats. And you’ve certainly identified yourself as my enemy.”
Clare Tennant broke into peculiar laughter. “One of hundreds, my dear. I heard from one of them only the other day. Robyn Masterman. Now there’s a stop-at-nothing girl. You’d be risking your life if you tried to ruin her marriage plans.”
“She’s a fool.” Camille’s voice was tight with disgust. “Philip Garner’s history, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Perhaps you should tell Robyn that. She’s quite jealous, you know.”
“She need have no fears about me,” Camille said.
“Perhaps she sees what you are. You’re one of those women who cause a great deal of trouble in life. I’ve heard something of your parents’ shocking story.”
“Tragic, don’t you mean?” Was it possible Nicholas had told her? Surely not!
“I do know she drove even hardheaded Harry Guilford to the edge. Had she lived, the marriage would certainly have gone on the rocks. Some women are natural-born destroyers.”
Camille felt a surge of relief. Nicholas hadn’t told her. “Please don’t attempt to threaten me again,” she said in a firm voice, “or I will give the police your name.”
A vein throbbed in Clare Tennant’s temple. “How dare you insult me this way!”
“I feel I need to,” Camille answered quietly. “Now, I’m going up to see Melissa.”
She turned and moved to the staircase, but Clare Tennant followed her up. “He’s just using you, you know.”
Camille didn’t react.
“I mean it,” Clare Tennant said. “You’re beautiful and you’re young. But don’t pit yourself against me.”
Camille met the fanatical blue-gray eyes. “I’m not frightened of you, Mrs. Tennant.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
IT WAS OVER AN HOUR before Nick returned home. Most of the afternoon had been taken up at a board meeting where he’d made the decision to fire two top executives. They simply weren’t pulling their weight, although they’d been given their chance. It was all part of the strategy to streamline management, but such hard decisions took their toll.
He had scarcely let himself into the house before Melissa came running down the stairway crying, “Daddy! Daddy!” at the top of her lungs. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks glowed with healthy color.
He put his briefcase down and looked at her with surprise and delight. “So this is the new hairstyle. I love it.” He held out his arms.
Melissa ran into them. “I knew you would!” She put two hands to the top of her head, pressing down on the glossy waves. “Do you like my dress? I’ve got new sandals, too.” She pointed a foot.
He stood back admiring while Melissa fluffed out the tiered skirt of her denim dress.
“Très chic!” He smiled, not knowing even his daughter was subject to its heart-stopping effect.
“I should have worn my straw hat,” Melissa said, basking in his approval. “It has a band to match my dress.”
Quite simply she looked like a different child. She had beautiful hair. The family hair, he thought. His sister, Elizabeth, had worn her hair much the same way as a teenager, but Melissa’s long thick braid had somehow disguised her crowning glory. Now her curls framed her pointed little face, creating sparkle and softness and drawing attention to her large liquid eyes.
“Where’s Camille?” he asked. “Couldn’t she stay?”
“I’m here.” Camille, who had remained on the gallery while Melissa had her moment with her father, descended the stairs. Just the sound of his voice caused her heart to pound. He was staring up at her with something like flame at the center of his eyes, causing a wave of intense emotion to flood her—pleasure and melancholy.
Melissa ran up the stairs to grasp her hand, drawing her down to where her father was standing. “We had a wonderful time, Daddy.” She spoke in a high excited voice. “We had something to eat in a coffee shop, then we bought all sorts of clothes.”
“That was very kind of you, Camille.” His smile pierced her heart. “You must tell me what it all came to.”
“The dress and matching hat are gifts—from me,” she said. “We can sort out the rest later. I was only waiting until you got home. I understand you’re going out to dinner?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I’m afraid I’m committed.”
She raised her delicate brows. “That’s scarcely gallant.”
“I didn’t know gallantry was called for.” He looked puzzled.
Camille bent and dropped a kiss on Melissa’s cheek. “I must go now, darling. We’ll meet again soon.”
For answer Melissa put her arms around Camille and hugged her. “Thank you, thank you…my best friend.”
“YOU’RE IN AN AWFUL RUSH, aren’t you?” Nick said dryly as he escorted Camille to her car.
“I have to tell you I don’t get on at all well with your lady friend.”
“Which one is that?” he asked mildly.
“Why, Mrs. Tennant. She’s waiting for you in the library.”
“Lord, she’s early.” He came to a halt and stared back at the house, so she couldn’t gauge his expression.
Perturbed by the strength of her feelings, Camille inserted her key into the lock, turning to face him only because he left her no space. His tall body radiated the now familiar power. They were shaded by trees, and the shadows seemed wrought with furious excitement.
“I’ll say good-night.” Her voice was low, a bit shaky.
“Don’t be a fool, Camille. Clare Tennant is a friend, no more.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“I do if I get this reaction. I’ve known Clare for years. She was friends with my wife. In fact, she was very helpful to her for a time. I can’t forget that.”
“And what happened? She fell in love with you?” Camille was awash with heat and hostility.
“My entire focus was on my wife” he said in equally heated tones.
“And afterward you and Clare Tennant began an affair?” Oh, God, why am I saying this, she thought. It’s so demeaning. “Forgive me, I have to go.”
“Camille, you’re talking nonsense.” He tried to detain her. “It’s you I have to see.”
“No.” She was breathing fast. “You’ve radically altered my life. All the old foundations have gone.”
“Please try to be calm.”
“Believe me, I’m trying.”
“A minute please.” He tilted her face, saw her distress. “No more incidents? Nothing to report?”
She shook her head. “I suppose you still have someone watching me,” she said.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I want to make sure you’re OK.”
“I don’t want you to. I don’t want to be under any obligation to you.”
“But you are,” he.said somberly. “Destiny saw to that.”
“If you believe in destiny.”
“Don’t you?”
She stood mesmerized as his mouth came hungrily over hers.
It was madness. Utter madness. Yet she felt she had never lived without it
“You’re as desperate as I am, aren’t you?” he murmured as he pressed kisses all over her face.
“I’m lost and confused.”
“What is life if it’s not a search?”
“For love, for truth?”
“There’s one thing I do know,” he said, his tone intense. “I want you.”
Facing the house, Camille eventually became aware that someone was standing at the living-room window. Before the curtain dropped back i
nto place, she caught the gleam of blond hair.
Clare Tennant.
Camille could almost feel the hatred pour out to her in waves. Probably the woman had been standing there for some time. A witness to their desperate kissing.
Camille didn’t doubt it would unleash some new fury….
CHAPTER SEVEN
TOWARD THE MIDDLE of the following week Claude rang to say they’d lost out on the premises he had in mind for Camille’s gallery.
“I mean I know the guy personally!” Claude said in exasperation. “He promised we could have first option and now he tells me he’s selling to some developer who intends to knock the whole place down. I’m so sorry, sweetie. It would have done very nicely, but we’ll find somewhere else.”
Camille was disappointed, but she didn’t expect anything to be handed to her on a golden platter.
“Why don’t we contact a real-estate firm?". Linda suggested over lunch next day. “Stephen could help out. He knows everyone in the property market.” She paused. “Only trouble is, we’re not talking much to each other.”
“He still won’t go along with you to Max Courtney?”
Linda smiled wanly. “I dare not even broach the subject” There were dark shadows beneath her lovely eyes.
“And your sex life?”
Linda sighed deeply. “It used to be wonderful. Now we turn our backs to each other. From passion to indifference. That’s what comes with death, with grief. I’ve not only lost my child, I feel I’ve lost my husband, as well.”
Camille was dismayed and saddened. “You can’t let losing the baby cripple you, Lindy.”
“I’m trying not to let it, love.” Linda lifted a fork, began to pick at her salad. “Every morning I tell myself I’m going to try and heal the rift between us. But I’m not even sure Stephen still loves me. He’s turning more and more to the family.”
“Pull him back if you want him, Lindy. You do, don’t you?” Camille asked bluntly.
The Australian Heiress Page 16