“I rather think you’ve been listening to too many of Manny’s stories,” Nicholas said. “The aboriginal myths are fascinating but sometimes they can make little girls too excited.”
“It’s not a story, Daddy,” Melissa said. “It’s the truth.” She swung her gaze back to Camille. “Do you want to know why Australian swans are black?”
“Another legend?” Camille asked, her interest captured.
“Yes. In the Dreamtime all our swans were white until some landed on a lagoon that was the property of a mighty eagle. He didn’t like them trespassing, so he tore out their feathers and left them to die in the desert, but the black crows heard their cries and covered them with their own feathers. That’s how our swans got to be black. They still have white feathers on their wing tips and red on their beaks to remind them of that time.”
“I like that story.” Camille was charmed.
“Eagles are fiercely territorial creatures,” Nicholas explained. “That’s why Wirra Wirra makes his home on the escarpment.”
They found a crescent-shaped lagoon floating scores of pink waterlilies to have their picnic lunch. Afterward Melissa ran in circles through a vast field of wildflowers, trailing blue and pink streamers her father had brought for her and exclaiming delightedly. When she’d had enough of the game, she began to pick a huge bouquet of white paper daisies for Camille.
Camille thought she had never experienced such peace. All the traumas of the past months seemed to fade away. No silent phone calls to chill her. No unpleasant things in the mail. This was the land ruled by Dreamtime gods. They would protect her.
“She looks so happy, doesn’t she?” Nicholas said. He and Camille were standing side by side, watching his daughter. “The long summer holiday is going to do her a world of good. She’s been a different child since you came into our lives.” He put an arm around Camille’s slender body.
“I like to think I’ve done something to help,” she murmured. It felt so natural pressed to his side.
“You have.” Emotions churned inside him. Whatever else happened, he couldn’t lose her. “Carole never wanted to come here,” he said. “She was a creature solely of the city. Kurakai held no appeal. I think she found its immensity oppressive.”
Camille answered carefully, aware of the old anguish. “I can understand that. The vastness, the emptiness, the silence. Some people might find it very lonely. Even overwhelming. It’s paradise now after the rains.”
“Paradise,” he echoed, thinking she and the blossoming world were inseparable. “Kurakai is showing you its most entrancing face. The mood of the desert isn’t always pleasant. It can be a terrifying place, but it’s like nowhere else on earth. I’ve been coming here since I was a boy. I love it in all its moods.”
“You don’t have to sell me, Nicholas.” When she tilted her head to smile at him, he turned her to fully face him and then kissed her, feeling her mouth open under his. Soft soft lips, questing tongue.
A little way off, Melissa called, “I can’t hold any more.” She waved her bouquet at them and they pulled apart.
“Enough sun for all of us, I suppose,” Nicholas said wryly as they walked toward Melissa. All three of them were wearing wide-brimmed hats—Nicholas in a cream akubra that made him look the handsome cattle baron, Camille and Melissa in ribbon-trimmed natural straw—for the sun in that peacock blue sky was much too powerful.
Melissa rushed up to them, her eyes were full of laughter. “I saw you two kissing!”
“You didn’t.” This from Nicholas.
“I did.”
Melissa gave the bouquet to Camille, then all but fell against her for a hug. “You’ll always remember today, Camille,” she said in an odd prophetic voice. “Your bouquet is going to last forever.”
As they settled themselves in the four-wheel-drive Jeep, Camille looked back at the escarpment. It was glowing in the afternoon light, shadows of indigo touching its steep gorges. It looked primal, vibrating with latent power. She felt a tingling, suddenly, in her spine. Out of nowhere the eagle reappeared, rising like a whirlwind from some secret nest in the vegetation. “Wirra Wirra,” Nicholas said, pointing. “That means you’re very welcome here, Camille.”
NICHOLAS STAYED for a full week to help them settle in. Time he couldn’t actually afford, but he was determined to see Camille and his troubled little daughter happy and safe in a secure environment.
He’d explained as much as he needed to his longtime manager, Andy Sutherland, a man he trusted with his life. Andy’s wife, Desley, was also made aware of the need for extra vigilance, as were all station staff. Kurakai was a thousand miles from anywhere, but nowhere on earth was one hundred percent secure.
During that week they went everywhere, Nicholas and Camille riding out in the cool of early morning or late afternoon when Melissa was either asleep or napping. On other occasions all three of them traveled around in the Jeep or in the station helicopter. It was an extraordinary time. Each day was crammed with wondrous new sights and sounds as they explored the miracle of the living desert
Only once did Camille have a fright. They’d come upon a massive goanna taking refuge in a mulga tree. More than eight feet long with powerful limbs and tail, the lizard had shown its forked tongue in a most alarming fashion.
Melissa had laughed merrily. “They’re harmless, Camille! He sticks out his tongue when he’s afraid. That’s the big giant of the lizards. Hasn’t his skin got a fantastic pattern?”
Camille much preferred the kangaroos, which were everywhere, along with emus, the big flightless birds who liked nothing better than to pace the Jeep. The color changes from early morning to the brief mauve twilight had to be seen to be believed, moving as they did through the spectrum of baked-in pottery colors. Sometimes the glow was so strong everyone and everything turned roseate. The spinifex, tall seed stalks golden by day, became silver against the dying light, and the fiery colors of the sun-scorched land faded to every conceivable violet tint. Camille particularly loved the ghost gums with their stark white trunks. Such a bold contrast to the fiery red of the rocks and the blazing blue of the sky.
On their dawn rides, Camille and Nicholas were serenaded by orchestras of birds, their piercing sweet sounds traveling for miles as the sun swept up over the great pyramid-shaped sand hills to gild desert and plains.
“I feel like a worshiper in a temple,” Camille said, her body swaying gently in the saddle.
Nicholas nodded, watching the expressions that moved across her face. “The aboriginals regard the sun as a woman. She is the great goddess of creation and one of their most powerful deities. The moon is a man. As long as I can remember, there’s always been a dawn ritual of welcome to the sun woman. I’m not surprised you think you’re in a temple. I have the same feeling.” He paused. “You’re quite the accomplished horsewoman, aren’t you?” It delighted him, having such a perfect companion for his morning rides.
“Nicholas, I was taught everything,” she said with a shallow little laugh. “That way my father never had to see me.”
He shrugged. “For someone who had such a deprived childhood, you’ve turned out awfully well.”
“Perhaps a bit better than my own expectations.” She glanced at him and smiled wryly. “Childhood is such a crucial time. The make-or-break time.”
“I had a wonderful childhood,” he said. “Blessed. But then I think of Melissa. Her self-image, despite all my efforts, has not been good. It’s not a question of material things—good food, good clothes, a fine place to live.”
“No. It’s about attending to a child’s emotional needs.” Camille sighed deeply. “Don’t I know. Melissa is a highly intelligent child, but somehow she came to believe she was generally unattractive. I don’t want to make you feel bad, Nicholas, but that’s the way it’s been.”
There was a somber look in his eyes. “Good people have tried to help, Camille. Up until the time you came into our lives, Melissa was filled with anger.”
“
She’s so little and she felt rejected.”
“Never by me.” He shook his head.
“But you have a big job to do. You’re a very busy man.” And then, because she couldn’t banish the past, added, “You directed a lot of energy into bringing down Harry.”
It was probably a full minute before he answered. “I’m not going to deny it. Talking about it obviously raises powerful emotions in both of us. But this past week all the terrible things that happened have been swept from my mind, the problems put on hold. I thought you, too, had all but forgotten them, but they spill out, it seems.”
They’d reached the lagoon now, and they stopped and dismounted, Nicholas hitching the reins of the horses to a low branch. Great stretches of the dark green water were covered in waterlilies with huge leaves and spectacular pink flowers, while all around the perimeter grew trumpet flowers and a wealth of flowering grasses.
“Maybe we’re only pretending to be normal,” Camille said, walking nearer the water. “Maybe we’re hiding from ourselves like children hide in an attic.” She picked a wild hibiscus, stared down into its deep velvety center.
“So you think we’re not normal?” he asked ironically.
“I think we’re damaged people, Nicholas. We’ve experienced psychological disturbances that don’t happen to everybody.”
“We’re handling it, aren’t we?” His tone was terse.
“Are we?” She raised her eyes to his. He was the very picture of masculinity and, it had to be said, arrogance. “What more do you expect to learn of Harry? Of me? Your feelings, like mine, are very complex. They press down on us.” She took off her hat and loosened the coil of hair at her nape.
“But it all comes back to the same thing.” His eyes followed her movements. “I’m in love with you, Camille. You can’t fail to know that. You’ve had a momentous effect on me and my life. My child’s life. It’s as if…you’ve been sent to us.”
She, too, felt the power of destiny. “But we were enemies! That’s how I felt. That’s how I lived my life. You’ve forced me to question all my old beliefs. You’ve forced me to look into my father’s soul.”
He appeared to grit his teeth. “Forgive me if I’ve hurt you. But such a man as Harry Guilford had to be exposed. He was a destroyer.” Nicholas paused. “Furthermore, I believe he sent Natalie to her death.”
Camille was overwhelmed by his admission, overwhelmed by the thought of so great a secret kept for so long a time. “What you’re saying is terrible.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” He turned to her with urgency, his expression a mix of sympathy and anger. “Maybe he didn’t intend to push Natalie off that yacht. Maybe she’d pushed him to his limit. Such a man would act. Natalie was pregnant with my uncle’s child. If she told him, that would be enough to put Guilford over the edge. He was a violent man.”
“And he was my father.”
“I am so sorry, Camille. So sorry. You couldn’t be less like him.” Nicholas was pale beneath his dark golden tan.
“But what could we do about it even if it was true?”
“Natalie took her unborn child with her,” he said bleakly. “Two murders. It has always been important to me to avenge that. It has always been important to me to expose Harry Guilford for what he was. A vendetta, I admit it.”
“Surely you don’t mean to reopen inquiries into my mother’s death!” she gasped. “Introduce new evidence from the past.”
His gaze never left her face. “Not now. Avenging my uncle led me to you. Your father was the symbol of all that was bad. You are the symbol of all that is good.”
Camille’s beautiful eyes sprang tears. “How can we possibly bridge the past when my feeling for you is a kind of terror? There are so many strands to your feelings, Nicholas. In a way you’re dangerous to me.”
“Never!” He held her shoulders, his hands communicating a powerful emotional charge.
“Am I expected to make expiation?”
“Don’t, Camille. Please. I can’t think of you in terms of punishment or revenge.”
“But you did once?”
He saw more than her loveliness. He saw her fear. “I told you at the beginning—you are the innocent victim.”
“Only I won’t be a victim,” she said with spirit “I’m going to make a good life for myself. I’m confident it can be done.”
“With or without me?” The timbre of his voice caused ripple after ripple of sensation to pass through her.
“I don’t know what you want of me, Nicholas,” she said poignantly. “I know you want me sexually.”
“You’re not going to tell me you don’t want me, are you, Camille?”
“That’s our dilemma,” she said sadly. “Trying to reconcile longing with deep-seated angers. Don’t let’s talk of it anymore. This week has been wonderful. For all of us. A complete break from anxiety. And Melissa’s emerging as a terrific little person. It gives me great pleasure to see her gaining confidence and control.”
“Has it struck you what it might do to her if you ever tried to walk away?” he asked almost harshly.
Camille tried to step back, but he reached out to hold her. “You want to tie me to you, don’t you, Nicholas?”
“I want to bond you to me,” he said, fierceness and tenderness coming together. “I want you to sleep with me tonight.”
She wavered, sick with desire, but panicked by the history of those who had gone before. “No.”
“I think so. All week I’ve tried desperately to keep control. I can’t anymore. Let me love you tonight. Let me take the clothes from you, look at you. Let me say things to you you’ll blush to remember. I’m a man, Camille. I need you. I believe you feel the same way. I swear to you I’ll solve our problems somehow. Nothing and no one will drive a wedge between us. No more barriers.”
He paused. “You will sleep with me tonight, my love.”
“Yes, if you want me.”
“I can’t wait,” he replied with consuming desire.
He wound his hand through her full silky mane of hair, burying his face in it. Then his mouth descended on hers, and he kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough of her lips. Finally he lifted his head, and there was such a blaze in his eyes Camille felt her body go liquid inside.
“Nothing and no one will drive a wedge between us,” he repeated.
THAT EVENING they set about one of the most enjoyable activities of all—decorating the Christmas tree.
A sixteen-foot-high Koster’s blue spruce, it had been specially flown in from Sydney to whence it would return after the festive season was over. Its pyramid shape and silver-blue pendulous branches would serve marvelously for their Christmas tree. It took four stockmen to bring the tree into the house that very afternoon, and now it stood in the large entrance hall beside the cantilevered staircase, begging to be decorated with love, imagination and flair. The huge sandstone pot it had been placed in was a work of art in itself, a soft rose in color, square in shape, decorated with raised medallions and standing on ball-and-claw feet.
For well over an hour before dinner, Camille assisted by a joyous Melissa, had carried down from the attic boxes of glittering baubles and ornaments the family had collected over the years. There were yards and yards of evergreen roping, which Camille thought would look very effective arranged in swags down the staircase and decorated with glittering balls in all the brilliant hues of Christmas—red, green, silver and gold.
Nicholas had had a stream of faxes to attend to, but he came through to the hall from time to time to admire their efforts. Mozart’s Magic Flute was drifting all through the house. The sight of his little daughter looking so happy and confident as she went to and fro hanging all the sparkling ornaments was the best present of all.
She and Camille had dressed up for the occasion, as well, Melissa’s idea, he learned later. She’d chosen a bright red sundress with white piping, a red ribbon threaded through her hair. Camille was wearing a full emerald skirt and a little ma
tching top with shoestring straps, a wide gold belt cinched around her waist
It was a moment of bittersweet delight for Nicholas. Who would have thought that, of all women, he would want Natalie’s daughter? Natalie who had shattered so many lives. His uncle’s. His family’s.
Lombard knew he wasn’t a forgiving man. He even recognized that his own grief had taken him to unhealthy depths. Since he’d met Camille, he’d been trying to fight his way out of them. He had to start life again. Look toward the light.
At that moment Melissa called to him, great dark eyes filled with joy. “We’re going to leave it to you, Daddy, to put the angel on top. That’s the best job of all!”
CHAPTER TEN
THEY MISSED Nicholas after he’d gone, his comforting strength and vital presence, but Camille quickly picked up the reins, fulfilling her new role as Melissa’s friend, companion and mentor.
It wasn’t exactly plain sailing. Melissa had become used to getting her own way in most things, but Camille dealt calmly with all the child’s concerns as they presented themselves.
The days were filled with enjoyable activities, but Camille insisted on periods of rest and a routine bedtime. At the same time they started music lessons, which Melissa took to like a duck to water. There was a grand piano in the drawing room—Aunty Elizabeth played it every time she came, Melissa said—so Camille, who’d studied the piano from age six to seventeen hit on the idea of not only introducing Melissa to the instrument but starting her on a musical education.
It couldn’t have worked out better. Melissa was quick to grasp everything Camille showed her, and her manual dexterity was a decided bonus.
“You’re working wonders with Melissa,” Desley Sutherland told her, her pleasant features full of admiration. “That little soul has been hurting ever since I can remember. Mr. Lombard is a wonderful man, a loving father and the best employer we could ever wish for, but she’s been desperately missing a mother figure.”
The Australian Heiress Page 21