by Daphne Clair
For long moments they seemed suspended in time, and then she went rigid against him, and gave a small cry, and clutched his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her body, and she heard him mutter something incoherent against her throat, before she felt the quickened rhythm, the driving climax of his loving.
As it had always been with them, they were reluctant to relinquish each other, lying entwined and sleepy long after their need had been assuaged. When they separated, Reid touched her hair, kissed her lips with lingering tenderness and said, ‘Want a dip in the sea?’
The tide had turned towards them while they were lost in each other’s arms, creeping into the little cove, chortling around the rocks. They couldn’t swim, it was too dangerous in the dark with so many rocks, but they walked hand in hand to the waves and helped wash each other, and then in silence returned to the beach and pulled their clothes on over their damp skin.
‘Annys—’
She raised a hand and pressed her fingers against his mouth. ‘Don’t say anything now,’ she begged. ‘Don’t spoil it.’
He took her hand and kissed the fingers, and pressed the palm against his cheek. ‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘Not now.’
He held her hand while they negotiated the rocks, but as they drew near the glowing logs where a few die-hards still remained Annys loosened her fingers from his. Xianthe had gone, and although they attracted some covertly curious glances no one commented on the length of time they had been away.
CHAPTER TEN
In the morning Annys couldn’t believe what she’d done. She’d slept deeply, dreamlessly, and had woken at first full of an inexplicable well-being. Then the night’s events rushed in on her consciousness.
She stayed in her bunk instead of going on deck for her morning swim, not wanting to confront Reid again so soon, feeling she needed time to face him with a semblance of equilibrium.
A part of her was appalled that she could have been so weak, so willing to be drawn again into the golden net of desire; another part still tingled with pleasure whenever she recalled his touch on her skin, the feel of him under her hands, the sweet, drugging kisses they’d exchanged, and the ultimate closeness they’d experienced after so long an abstinence.
Abstinence for her, she reminded herself. She had no reason to believe that Reid had denied himself as she had. He’d had Carla to take her place. And who knew how many others?
He certainly hadn’t lost any of his skill, judging by last night. Annys dragged herself out of a threatened slide back into dreamy reminiscence. Last night she’d been all kinds of a fool. Yesterday’s adventure must have shaken her up more than she’d realised. And Reid had taken advantage.
Unfair, she admitted to herself. She’d put up only the feeblest objection. She couldn’t blame Reid. What had happened had been wholly mutual, and she was as much a participant as he. She closed her eyes, willing the vivid, disturbing memories to go away.
‘Are you all right, Annys?’ Xianthe asked her. ‘Yes.’ Annys opened her eyes, saw that the other woman was dressed and daisy-fresh, apparently none the worse for her dunking yesterday. ‘Just a bit lazy this morning,’ she added, throwing back the covers.
‘I’m not surprised,’ Wendy commented, pulling on a pair of trousers. ‘That was quite a rescue act yesterday. And you came in late last night.’
‘Sorry if I disturbed you,’ Annys said. ‘Oh, no. I wasn’t asleep. I only came in half an hour before you. I thought you’d already slipped off to bed before that, actually, like Xianthe,’
‘I went for a walk,’ Annys explained briefly. ‘Bit risky on your own, in the dark, wasn’t it?’ Wendy asked. ‘I wasn’t on my own.’
‘Oh.’ The other woman gave a rueful smile. ‘Sorry. I did notice Reid was gone, too. Only I thought you two weren’t—’ She stopped there. ‘Me and my big mouth.
It’s none of my business.’
Annys looked at Xianthe, surprising a thoughtful look on her face. There wasn’t a thing she could say without making the situation worse, she decided. She wasn’t even sure what the situation was. Turning to pick up her towel and sponge-bag, she said, ‘Looks like I’m late for breakfast. Don’t wait for me.’
When she walked in she saw Reid look about for her, and gave him what she hoped was a casual smile before sitting down between Tancred and Miko. Afterwards they both helped with clearing and washing the dishes, but as there were three others on galley duty there was no time for a private discussion.
The anchor was lifted after breakfast, and Annys kept herself busy all day, surrounded by plenty of company. By evening Reid had taken to watching her with a narrowed, somewhat intimidating stare. They made another night sailing, but Annys went to bed early, pleading her late night previously. By morning they were off Whakaari, an active volcano set in the blue waters of the Bay of Plenty. Lazy clouds of white smoke issued from the crater, but the captain assured everyone that major eruptions were not expected.
After he had checked that no significant weather changes were likely to disrupt the balmy calm of the day, parties were allowed to go in boats to the island, under strict instructions to stay close to their guides and not to disturb any birds or other wildlife, or the remains of buildings they might find, left over from various commercial ventures when the collection of sulphur or fertiliser had been undertaken from the island.
Avoiding a nasty-looking set of craggy stacks rising from the sea, topped by colonies of seabirds, the flotilla entered a small bay dominated by a high, sheer peak. Where they landed, the meagre sand was littered with boulders and driftwood, and the boats had to be pulled from the water with great care. Ruins of buildings lay about, and there were slopes covered in yellow sulphurous growths like flowers.
‘You’re standing on the lip of a volcano,’ the voyagers were told. It was very warm, and they could hear a rather unnerving roar as steam from somewhere deep in the earth’s crust under the ocean burst from a fissure in the rocks. Clouds of steam rose everywhere, and when it cleared they glimpsed thick, bubbling mud and gushing springs of boiling water.
Amazingly, there were wild birds and nesting sites on the island. Watching gannets meeting after one of the pair returned from the sea, stroking each other’s bills and necks in a display of ecstatic affection, Annys looked up to find Reid standing a few yards off, regarding her with an ironic curve on his mouth.
Later they visited the other side of the mile-wide island and found young pohutukawa trees growing on the gentle slope. ‘Nature will have its way,’ Tony remarked amid the general exclamations of astonishment. ‘Whakaari looks barren and dangerous, and you’d think nothing would live here, but it’s not so.’ He chuckled. ‘The birds here have even learned that they can leave their eggs untended, and the earth will keep them warm.’
The visit to the volcano was their last adventure before the voyage back to the Bay of Islands. The ship headed northward under full sail, sometimes using the engine, and the return journey was made in less than half the time it had taken to sail south.
As most of the guest crew lined the rails to watch their entry back into the Bay of Islands, Annys felt a warm presence at her back, and then two bands descended on the wood in front and either side of her.
‘At last,’ Reid’s voice said in her ear.
Annys stiffened.
‘You didn’t think you could avoid me forever, did you?’ he asked her grimly. ‘We have things to say to each other, Annys.’
‘You promised,’ she said, ‘that you’d wait.’
‘That was before,’ he told her. ‘Things have changed.’ Her voice deliberately cool, Annys said, ‘Nothing’s changed.’
She heard him draw in a breath through his teeth. He was silent for several long moments. Then, ‘It has for me,’ he told her flatly.
Stubbornly, Annys shook her head. A hard hand turned her to face him, his other hand still on the rail imprisoning her. Seemingly oblivious of the other people near by, he was staring into her face. Defiantl
y she met his angry dark eyes. ‘You’re making a scene, Reid. Leave me alone.’
‘When you promise,’ he said, ‘to see me again.’
‘What’s the use—?’
‘Annys!’ he said with suppressed violence. ‘You can’t pretend that the other night never happened! It has to mean something!’
‘It shouldn’t have happened!’
‘It did. And I won’t let you ignore it.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ she said. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘I told you,’ he said. ‘I want us to talk. What the hell do I have to do to get you to agree?’
‘All right,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll contact you.’ Looking into his suspicious glare, she added hurriedly, ‘I promise.’
‘Fine.’ He remained standing there and looked at her.
Then slowly he let go and stepped back. ‘Thank you,’ he added formally, and turned away.
Xianthe was looking at them curiously. Annys gave her an absent, embarrassed smile and returned to her contemplation of the sea.
She didn’t speak to Reid again, but when all hands were sent aloft to furl the sails she found herself next to him, efficiently rolling up the heavy canvas, the two of them working together in wordless accord. It gave her a peculiar kick of satisfaction, even though they didn’t exchange a word or a glance.
On deck again he gave her a strange little smile and strolled off without a word. Xianthe came up to Annys and said, ‘Are you and Reid getting together again?’
‘No! Definitely not.’
Xianthe’s look was disbelieving. ‘You could have fooled me. And the rest of us.’
‘I told you—’
‘I know. And I still like Reid, I wouldn’t have minded picking up the pieces, but not while he’s still in love with you. That’s a mug’s game. Well, no hard feelings. After all,’ she said, grinning, ‘you found him first. Good luck, Annys.’
Annys was left gaping after her retreating back.
Not while he’s still in love with you...he’s still in love with you...
The words echoed in her head as she drove along the highway towards Whangarei.
It couldn’t be true. She didn’t believe it. But she was shaken by the intensity with which she wanted to believe it.
‘Darling!’ Her mother greeted her as though she had been away for years. She hadn’t had time to call in on her way to the Bay, but was committed to staying overnight this time.
Her father ambled in from the garden that took most of his time these days, and kissed her cheek, patting her shoulder. She noticed how stooped he was getting, and made a resolution to visit more often.
She telephoned Kate first of all, who assured her that, ‘Your empire has not gone into bankruptcy overnight. Everything’s under control.’
Over roast chicken and her father’s fresh vegetables, she gave her parents a brief run-down of the scenery she’d seen on her holiday, and of the less hair-raising activities. She’d learned early in life not to regale them with details of anything that might be considered risky. Throughout her childhood she had spent a good deal of time and ingenuity circumventing their over-protectiveness. She supposed it was natural in an older couple with an only child.
‘Who else was there?’ her mother enquired. ‘Anyone you knew?’
Annys hesitated. She was never able to lie directly to her mother. ‘Actually,’ she said, trying to sound casual, ‘Reid was.’
Her mother’s enraptured face gave her a sinking feeling. ‘Oh, darling! Why didn’t you say? You’ve been holidaying together! Are things going to be all right now?’
‘I didn’t know,’ Annys said. ‘And we have not been holidaying together. It was a coincidence, that’s all. Nothing’s changed.’
She’d told Reid that, too. But deep down she knew it wasn’t true.
Her father said, helping himself to more potato, ‘Don’t know why you two can’t work it out. Your mother was looking forward to having grandchildren.’
Annys tightened her hold on the fork in her hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t possible.’
Her father looked at her sharply. ‘Why? Do you have some kind of medical problem? You never told us.’
Inwardly wincing, Annys said evenly, ‘I mean, it wasn’t possible to work things out between us.’
Her father snorted. ‘Seems a perfectly decent feller to me. In our day people didn’t just divorce at the drop of a hat. You were mad keen to marry him. Told you to wait until you knew him a bit better, but you’ve never listened to us.’
Annys momentarily closed her eyes, remembering that this was one of the reasons she hadn’t been here much in the past three years. Every time, they covered the same ground. ‘I was wrong,’ she said, trying to keep her temper. ‘I should have heeded your advice. Now can we please change the subject?’
That night she dreamed about a baby, and woke with a familiar ache of grief in her throat. She could still feel the small, warm weight of the child in her arms, see the solemn dark stare it had directed at her. Had it been a girl or a boy? She would never know.
Impatiently she threw back the blankets and got out of bed, although it was only six o’clock. Her parents would be up at seven, as they were every day. She would disturb them if she went to have a shower now.
There was a mist rising from the smooth waters of the Hatea River, and beyond the town on the other side the bush-covered hills were a smudgy green. Whangarei had been built between the hills and the sea, and in summer that sometimes made for a sweltering humidity only intensified by occasional pelting Northland rain that flooded the gutters and left the pavements and roadways steaming. But mornings like this, cool and still with a promise of sunshine to come, were characteristic, too. For a minute or two she experienced a piercing nostalgia. It had been a good place to grow up, and once she’d had a fleeting thought that she’d like to bring up her own children here.
Mentally she shook herself. No use brooding on what might have been. There would never be children now.
Two months later she sat in a doctor’s surgery, her mind in a turmoil of disbelief, shock and a slowly building elation.
Of course she’d begun to suspect, but had firmly forbidden herself to make any assumptions. Now it was confirmed, the test was positive. The doctor had just told her, ‘You are definitely pregnant.’
She swallowed, feeling slightly dizzy. ‘I can’t believe it!’
The woman across the desk smiled at her a little quizzically. ‘Believe it. Are you pleased, or is there a problem?’
‘A bit of both,’ Annys confessed. ‘There’ll be problems, but I’ll cope.’
‘Good. Your general health is good—I wish all my patients were as fit—but I’ll want to see you regularly, just to keep an eye on things. You can make an appointment with my nurse in Reception.’
‘Yes,’ Annys said. ‘Thank you.’
The first, most major problem was Reid. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since leaving the Toroa. I’m not ready yet, she’d tell herself each time she thought about her promise to contact him. He said to wait until I’m ready.
When she got back to her office, the day’s mail was waiting on her desk, including one envelope marked ‘PERSONAL’.
She slit it open, and took out the card with a picture of Toroa in full sail. Turning it over, she read the terse message in bold black letters. ‘Have you forgotten?’ And underneath, two telephone numbers.
Forgotten? Not likely. She sat staring at the card for some time. Then, before she could lose her courage, she picked up the telephone on her desk.
When she finally got through to him, after waiting for his secretary to check if he could take her call, she said, ‘I got your note. When will you be in Auckland next?’
He was so long in answering that she thought he had changed his mind. Just as she was about to suggest that they forget it, he said, ‘I could fly up in the morning. Maybe we could have lunch, then go to your place.’
&n
bsp; She didn’t want him to come to her home, leave his presence stamped on it. ‘Can’t we go somewhere else?’
‘I usually stay at a hotel when I’m in Auckland.’ His voice took on a mocking note. ‘You could come to my room there, if you like.’
‘No, thanks.’ It would have to be her home. And tomorrow was as good a time as any. She couldn’t put it off much longer. Not now that she knew she was pregnant. That made it urgent.
She met his plane. She’d learned early in her business career that there was some advantage to be gained in a sticky situation by taking the initiative and meeting a possible threat early. When the opposition expected a retreat, meeting them head-on gave her the edge.
‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ Reid said, settling into the passenger seat of her car. It was one of the perks she allowed herself, a European car with a powerful engine and sleek lines. He didn’t comment, but she’d seen the slightly surprised glance he had cast at it when she’d led him to it in the car park.
‘Did you have somewhere in mind for lunch?’ she asked him as she started the engine. ‘I’ve booked a table at the Harbour View restaurant on Tamaki Drive, but I can cancel.’
He slanted her a glance, and she thought he knew very well what she was up to, but he only said equably, ‘That’s fine with me. Is it new?’
‘Fairly. I’ve been there several times with business contacts. They give prompt service, the food is superb, and they have a very good wine list. Also a fair-sized parking area, which is a plus in Auckland.’ She changed gear as the barrier at the entrance lifted to let them out on to the road.
‘It sounds ideal,’ Reid said. ‘Is there a harbour view?’
‘Yes, from some tables. I asked for one outside on the terrace.’
‘You’ve thought of everything,’ he murmured. ‘You’re still terrifyingly efficient at everything, Annys.’
‘I’ve never terrified you.’