by Donald Robyn
The Maldives? Meeting someone there, perhaps? Someone gorgeous and blonde from his world...?
A fierce pang that sharpened into an agonising jealousy hit Elana, scrambling her brain.
Was he running away? One glance at his face told her she was being stupid. His inbred arrogance would prevent that. Controlling a stab of pain, she said lightly, ‘Have fun.’
The throbbing sound of a helicopter’s engines broke into the calm air. He said, ‘That’s my chopper. Will you drive me back to Mana?’
The question was delivered in a tone that made it sound like an order. She asked, ‘Why?’ her voice so nakedly bewildered she hastened to add, ‘Why is that necessary? Are you all right?’
His smile was brief and mirthless. ‘I’m fine, but I’m lending you this car while I’m away.’
‘No,’ she said automatically. Was this some kind of payoff for making love with him?
Surely not...
‘Yes.’ He spoke calmly, blue gaze level and hard. ‘I want to make sure you can drive it properly. It’s bigger than the cars you’re accustomed to.’
Mortified, Elana had to stop herself from wringing her hands. It took all of her self-control to say, ‘Why are you doing this?’
Broad shoulders lifting in a shrug, he said dryly, ‘I won’t be needing it while I’m away.’
Which sounded as though he was going to be gone for some time. She took a deep breath and tried to sound logical and level-headed. ‘Niko, this is taking neighbourliness to extremes, and it’s not necessary. Thank you,’ she added belatedly, her voice trailing away as he tossed the keys to her. Instinctively she caught them, clutching them as he turned away and strode towards the road.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she demanded.
‘Walking back to Mana,’ he said over his shoulder.
She said uncertainly, ‘You’re—this is ridiculous.’
And prickled at another of those dismissive shrugs.
‘Sensible,’ he said laconically. ‘It doesn’t pay to keep politicians waiting when you want something from them. And as you told me not so long ago, it’s not very far to Mana from here.’
Torn between anger with him for putting her in this position, and chagrin at the sense of loss that ached through her, Elana glowered at his back. Then she took a deep breath, and surrendered.
After all, once she’d hired a car she wouldn’t need to use this one...
‘Oh, all right,’ she said churlishly. ‘Get in, and I’ll drive you back.’
If he’s smiling when he turns around, he can jolly well walk.
But the threat vanished when he turned. He wasn’t smiling. Instead he looked his usual self—totally composed, formidably compelling, and enigmatic.
As though nothing had happened between them.
* * *
Niko hid a wry smile as he got into the car. Where had she got that fierce independence? And why on earth did he want to protect her from everything that could upset her, when she was so clearly bent on resisting him?
Until last night. He’d had no intention of making love with her. Yet when she’d looked at him, and touched him, some hidden need he’d never experienced before had made surrender inevitable.
And it had been like nothing before, sweet and fiery and intoxicating.
But going nowhere. Elana’s attitude made that more than obvious. So he’d put her from his mind and concentrate on the business ahead, and soon he’d be able to view the situation without this lingering need.
* * *
Elana climbed behind the wheel of the vehicle and set her mind to driving it. Fortunately Niko was helpful. Her tension gradually relaxed into something like confidence as they neared the homestead.
‘You’re a good driver,’ he told her as she slowed down. ‘I’ve contacted the police and my insurance company and told them you’ll be driving this until you get your own car back.’
She bit back a request to let her know how long he’d be away. One night’s passionate lovemaking didn’t give her any rights at all.
Besides, he might have every intention of staying away.
Ignoring the acute twinge of anguish caused by that possibility, she eased the vehicle to a stop outside the homestead, and without switching off the engine said, ‘Thank you. Travel safely.’
He got out and came around to the driver’s door. ‘Try to keep out of trouble.’
Elana managed a smile. ‘I think you must be a bad omen for me. Trouble arrived with you.’
His expression hardened. ‘Rubbish.’ He reached in and switched off the engine, holding the key in his hand as she gaped at him.
‘Before I leave,’ he said, ‘I want to ask you something. Do you recognise the calls a kiwi makes?’
Bewildered, she said, ‘Yes, I do. I hear them calling sometimes at night. Why?’
‘I noticed a dead one on the side of the road last night—obviously run over. The person I spoke to at the Department of Conservation office said it’s not uncommon, and asked if I’d noticed signs of them on Mana.’
Even more surprised, she asked, ‘Have you?’
‘No.’
‘On the road they get dazzled by headlights. On farms, dogs are powerfully attracted to them. It’s apparently hard to convince some people that their nice, friendly spaniel or obedient cattle dog will happily kill New Zealand’s iconic bird. And until they’re almost mature they’re unable to protect themselves from stoats.’
He nodded. ‘So the DOC ranger told me. I’m considering setting up a kiwi protection zone on the peninsula. Would you be interested in coming on board?’
Her first instinct was to say no. It would mean she saw even more of him, and she didn’t dare. But native birds all around New Zealand were in danger from introduced predators. This was a new aspect of Niko, one she admired. After several seconds, she said, ‘Yes.’
And wondered bleakly if she’d just made a very bad mistake.
‘You know the other landowners here better than I do. What do you think of the possibility of them joining in?’
Frowning, Elana swiftly assessed their neighbours. ‘I think they probably would. It’s worth a try.’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed, and glanced at his watch, then held out the car key. ‘I’d better be on my way.’
‘I—yes. Thank you.’
His brief smile held no humour. ‘Elana, it’s all right,’ he said calmly. ‘I can see you’re suffering post-coital remorse, but I don’t think the less of you, if that’s what—’
‘I’m not! It’s not that big a deal,’ she said desperately, hugely embarrassed. Because his opinion of her mattered far too much.
His raised brows brought swift colour to her skin. ‘Oh, darn,’ she muttered. ‘That sounded awful. I can cope with borrowing your car, but you don’t have to feel in any way responsible for me, just because we—well—because we...’ Her voice died away and she was blushing like some adolescent after her first grown-up kiss. ‘Because we made love,’ she blurted.
He gave her an ironic look. ‘Was it so hard to say?’
Unable to come up with any answer, Elana bit her lip, and was enormously relieved when he said, ‘I’m sorry, that was crass of me. I’ll see you again in about a fortnight.’
‘Bon voyage,’ she managed.
He nodded and turned and walked away.
Blinking, she set her jaw and set the car in motion, concentrating fiercely as she drove it towards Waipuna.
Was this some sort of kiss-off—Goodbye, thanks for the sex, now forget about it?
For Niko, had last night just been another episode in a series of one-night stands?
No! Horrified by the fierce pang of desolation that shot through her, she drew in a shaking breath. He had taken her, made her so completely his that she was no longer the woman she’d been before. Fiercely tender, he’d claimed her as though he’d been searching for her all his life and found her at last.
Don’t read so much into it, she warned herself. You’r
e fantasising...
The following morning she woke to an email from him, informing her that if she needed any help, she was to email him. And he’d contact her in two days at ten a.m. NZ time on the computer using the VOIP tool. Signed, Niko.
Cold, brief and chillingly matter-of-fact.
Well, what had she expected? It was completely stupid to suffer that aching hollowness of loss again, as though he’d meant anything more to her than a casual fling.
Casual? Wrong word.
Very wrong word. A kind of panic gripped her, an ominous understanding that last night had somehow changed her. But—judging by the tone of his farewell, if farewell it could be called—it had had no effect on him.
She should be relieved.
But why did every impersonal word in that email feel like a stab to the heart?
Stop thinking of him. At least she still had the Mana project to keep her busy. Apart from the considerable sum she was being paid for doing it, it would help keep her mind off Niko, and her humiliatingly fervent desire to trust him.
Gritting her teeth, she called the station. She needed to organise a routine that suited them all while Niko was away. ‘Or I could bring the documents back home,’ she suggested, unwilling to be reminded of Niko every day she went to the homestead.
David West was silent for a moment before saying, ‘I don’t think the boss would agree to that. They’re pretty fragile.’
Bother! After she’d hung up she walked out onto the deck to survey the estuary, narrowing her eyes against the shimmer of early summer sunlight across the water, the wash of gold highlighting the hills on the other side of the water. Each Christmas, the silver buds on the ancient pohutukawa trees burst open into pompons of scarlet and crimson and russet, a vivid contrast to the deep green leaves.
Would Niko be here then?
So much had happened recently...her mother’s death, Jordan’s accident, the theft of her car, the discovery of the documents...
And meeting Niko Radcliffe.
Relieved by the imperative summons of the telephone, she ran inside. It was the roofer, who gave her a date for his arrival. She hung up, glad yet worried. Even with the income she was earning from her work at Mana, she’d have to stick to a pretty strict budget for the next few months.
Bracingly she told herself she’d coped with everything else, so she’d cope with this, as well as with her stupid heart’s yearning after a man she didn’t dare allow herself to trust.
As the days slid by she became more and more interested in the documents, especially the diaries. She read accounts of accidents, fatalities, parties and weddings and balls, comments on the news of the day, and one day discovered what she suspected to be a faded bunch of love letters tied up with a blue satin ribbon.
Because it seemed rude to even consider untying that bow to read the outpourings of someone’s heart, she put them untouched to one side. Niko was due to contact her in another couple of days, so she’d mention them to him.
And try to rid herself of her desperate, embarrassing anticipation at the thought of seeing him on screen again. Memories of his lovemaking—passionate and tender—vied with memories of his coolness afterwards. Yet the last time he’d contacted her, he seemed—different, more relaxed, as though he enjoyed talking to her.
A knock on the door broke into her thoughts. David West, the manager, apologised for interrupting and said, ‘The kids from the high school will arrive here shortly to do some more tree planting. They might get here before I get back from picking the boss up from the airport, but they won’t bother you, they know where to go.’ He smiled at her startled face.
Niko helping children plant trees? Previously she’d have found it difficult to imagine Niko with a group of young adolescents, but those impassioned minutes in his arms had shown her a different side of him...a side she could trust?
Almost, she thought uncertainly.
David West smiled. ‘He’s very good with them—treats them like adults, but makes sure they don’t get carried away with fooling around. They think he’s great. On the first day they came one of the boys was acting the goat, and Niko put a stop to it straight away. Did me good to see the kid settle down to work. Hasn’t blotted his copybook since.’ As he turned to go, he said, ‘By the way, if you’re wondering where Patty is, she’s at the dentist’s—toothache hit her in the middle of the night. Can you take the phone calls if there are any? Just take a message.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Elana went back to her office. She’d felt she was learning to understand Niko Radcliffe, but almost every day she learned something about him that turned her preconceptions upside down. Slowly, carefully—almost reluctantly—she was learning to trust him.
Only last night, at dinner with the Nixons, she’d been told of his large donation to the retirement home in Waipuna, and his stipulation that the amount not be circulated. ‘He’s already making a big difference to Waipuna,’ Mrs Nixon had observed, ‘and not just financially.’
An hour later, when the telephone summoned her, Elana picked up the receiver and said briskly, ‘Mana Station.’
The caller was a woman with a very English accent, clipped and abrupt, who said, ‘I want to speak to Niko Radcliffe.’
Startled, Elana told her, ‘I’m sorry, he’s not here. Can I take a message?’
‘No. Who are you? His secretary?’
No reason for her to be so rude. ‘No.’
‘Oh, his latest girlfriend, I suppose.’ Her tone altered. ‘If that’s so, then take care. He’s a brute—and not just verbally. Watch out for his fists if you make him angry.’
Stunned, Elana opened her mouth to speak, but it was too late. The connection had been cut off.
Feeling sick, she put down the receiver and got rather shakily to her feet. A chill iced her stomach and tightened her skin. Shivering, she walked over to the open window and stared unseeingly out.
Who on earth had that been?
She wasn’t ever likely to know. A woman who knew Niko well, apparently.
And who seemed to have good reason to hate him. She’d spoken with real venom, spitting out the words as though they were weapons.
Elana took in a great lungful of warm, sea-scented air, and turned away. Questions—hateful questions with no answers—buzzed like wasps through her brain. She winced, feeling as though something rare and precious had been shattered into painful splinters. She’d even allowed herself to believe she could trust him...
Her nausea intensified into pain, so all-encompassing it overcame any physical agony she’d ever experienced. Not again, she thought wearily. In a world with plenty of decent men, was she doomed to run across only those who were abusers?
First her father, who’d beaten her mother, and then Roland, who’d resented anything that took her attention away from him—but mostly her work and her affection for her mother and stepfather and friends.
At least she’d realised what was happening and managed to break their relationship off without bearing too many emotional scars.
She simply couldn’t imagine Niko striking a woman.
But then, she’d noticed no warning signs when she’d fallen in love with Roland, either. It had taken her several months to realise that his constant criticism, his demands that she always tell him where she was and whatever she was planning to do, the days of frigid silence when he thought she’d disobeyed him, were all a form of abuse that was stripping her of confidence.
Emotional manipulation was bad enough; physical abuse had to be worse. Love was a much more complicated affair than the basic physical urge to mate. It involved friendship—and trust.
Perhaps, she thought bleakly, she was a very slow learner.
Had it amused Niko to take her to bed? Had she just been a convenient focus for a temporary lust? He certainly hadn’t wasted any time in heading off overseas. It seemed more and more likely.
Yet even with the shock of that call numbing her brain, heat from the memory of their
passion stirred deep within her body.
She didn’t really know Niko at all, so she couldn’t—dared not—trust him. Therefore she couldn’t be in love with him. Yet a primal sense of loss that had no basis in common sense ached through her.
And wailing about it wasn’t going to solve anything. So she’d just make sure she never surrendered to her baser urges again.
In the meantime, she had work to do. She sat down at the desk and tried to absorb the description of preparations for a late Victorian garden party held in the gardens of the homestead, as told by the eighteen-year-old daughter of the house.
Until she was interrupted by a voice behind her, deep and dark and cool, and instantly recognisable. ‘That must be a fascinating read.’
Her heart leapt and her fingers froze on the keyboard.
She’d been dreading this moment. She slowly turned, bracing herself against a swift, heartfelt delight that terrified her.
‘No,’ she said, adding foolishly, ‘I didn’t hear the helicopter.’
‘It’s having an overhaul. Dave met me at the airport.’ Brows almost meeting over ice-blue eyes, Niko demanded, ‘What’s the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Nothing,’ she said automatically.
Thoughts jostled through her brain, none of them making much sense.
She swallowed and babbled, ‘I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you said you were going to be away for a fortnight, but it’s only been a week.’ And stopped, mortified, because now he’d know she’d been counting them. Hastily she added, ‘I heard the car, but I thought it was Mrs West coming back from the dentist.’ Tell him now, get it over. ‘Someone rang for you a while ago.’
Oh, she was making a total pig’s breakfast of this! His brows shot up, and she finished rapidly, ‘Judging by her accent she’s English. She didn’t leave a message.’
Alarmed, she found herself scanning his face, searching, she realised, for some clue as to whether he’d been expecting the call.
His expression gave nothing away. ‘If it’s important whoever it was will contact me again,’ he said indifferently. And came across to look at the old book opened before her on the desk. ‘What is this?’