by Margaret Way
“Like a miracle, isn’t it?”
“Thank God they do happen. But no miracles for Alex, I’m afraid.”
“What exactly is wrong with his eyesight? His eyes are perfectly clear.”
“They were tonight. Other times—the bad times—they look quite different. Whatever it is and I don’t fully understand the condition, it’s quite rare.”
“With no cure?” Laura’s voice conveyed her sympathy.
“Maybe I’m entirely wrong, but I think some of Alex’s problem could be psychological. He’s highly strung, as my mother used to say, and as close-lipped about his past as we are. All three of us could be classed as damaged people.”
“Something should be done to help him.”
“Something should be done to help all of us,” Evan said wryly. “Do you think you’ll ever be happily married, Laura?”
She had her opening. Shouldn’t she seize it? Tell him at the end of this lovely evening: I’m married, Evan. Not only that, but married to an abusive man, terrible as it is. She hesitated fatally, thinking how desolate she would feel if he dropped her hand like a hot cake.
The moment went by. “Look at you,” she evaded, summoning up a light tone. “Why aren’t you thinking of marriage? I’ve deduced you haven’t led a normal life, but don’t you want a wife, a family?”
“Everything in good time.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“All right, Laura, would you marry me?”
For a minute she couldn’t move on. She froze, shocked out of an answer until she realized his tone had been sardonic.
“I couldn’t,” she said finally, and released her breath.
“Of course you couldn’t. You’re in love with your doctor.”
“No, I’m not.” Sadness mingled with utter truth.
“You just like being under his thumb?” He regretted it the instant he’d said it. Not that he didn’t mean it but it had sounded chastening.
She flushed. “We’ve had such a lovely night. Don’t let’s spoil it.” She couldn’t bear that, not when she was experiencing such peace it was like a dream.
“How are those heels taking the walk?” he asked, immediately reacting to her tone and changing subjects.
“Fine. I’m used to them.”
Being with him in this glorious star-filled night was rapture. She hadn’t needed three glasses of beautiful white wine over dinner to intoxicate her blood. She was travelling on a magic carpet. Just the two of them in the quiet tree-shrouded street with the heavens over them ablaze.
He paused at her front gate. “I’ll see you in.”
She didn’t say no. No matter how far she tried to remove herself from thoughts of Colin there was always the threat of his materialising out of the darkness one day.
“Would you like to come in for a moment?” she found herself murmuring. “I left Freddy in his basket.”
“Just for a moment.” He felt a sudden sharp ache for his own aloneness. “I’ll check the house for you.”
“Why? What do you think you’ll discover?”
“What you’re so damned worried about.” He took the key out of her nerveless hand, inserted it in the lock and opened the cottage door. He found the switch, flooding the hallways with soft golden light. As he turned his head, he registered her expression.
She stood there, staring back at him, lips parted. Petite, delicate in her pink dress, her dark gleaming hair framing her face. He wanted to take that lovely face into his hands. He wanted to kiss the soft, tender curves of her mouth. He wanted to chase the shadows from her jewelled eyes.
He knew he only had to touch her and the want would turn into a burning fever. Her pretty dress clung to her slender body, the low V neckline, delicately ruffled, drawing his eyes to the exquisite contours of her breasts. For an instant he allowed himself to see her arched against him. He knew there was passion in her. He had heard it in her music.
“Evan?” She too was conscious they were poised on a knife-edge.
“Things to do.” He moved abruptly into the parlour, turning on the lights. At first he didn’t notice the kitten staring up at him. It was so small, so black, a bundle of fur almost undetectable except for the brilliant colour of its eyes. “Freddy’s awake,” he called over his shoulder. “Probably wants some milk and some company.”
“Oh, sweetheart!” Laura followed Evan into the room, bending to pick up her kitten. “I bet you’ve been missing me.”
Evan didn’t speak, but watched them for a moment. He’d known a number of beautiful women in his life. He’d imagined himself in love with the traitor Monika. But this young woman had become painfully important to him in much too short a space of time. In a sense it was difficult to understand how profoundly she’d affected him. She was beautiful, certainly, and intelligent, gifted. Her laughter was lovely. Her smile. Was it her delicate femininity that made him think she needed protection? If she had a problem with her doctor lover, as she must have to flee him, she was clearly unwilling to give up the relationship.
He knew from the first moment he saw her she was going to affect his life. What made him think it would be for the good? If he allowed himself to fall in love with her—hell, he was in love with her—she could only cause him pain. Surely he’d had enough experience of pain to guard himself from it? And living his kind of life—if he returned to it—he had to keep himself free.
Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be beguiled by the sight of young woman and kitten. She could have posed for one of those enchantingly sentimental Victorian paintings. Yet she was a woman of mystery. This whole damned thing with her doctor lover was baffling. Unresolved. Obviously the man saw her as a trophy, an appendage. The thought upset him.
He heard her cooing to her bundle of fluff as it tenderly nuzzled her neck before she carried the kitten into the kitchen—no doubt for a warm drink of milk. It had grown in a matter of days. Clearly she loved it. For such a small gesture on his part it gave him immense pleasure.
The cottage was empty, so he took a minute to check the detached laundry. Really, she couldn’t be safer in this town. There was no crime. Nothing beyond kids getting up to pranks or the occasional teenager somehow getting hold of enough alcohol to make them drunk. They certainly wouldn’t be served at the pub, where every last kid was known right down to the year of birth. He glanced around the laundry, then walked the short distance to the back door. He didn’t know if she’d unlocked it but tapped on it all the same.
“Evan?”
Even through the solid timber door he could hear the quaver in her voice.
“Yes. Hope I didn’t frighten you?” he called. What the hell was this? God, he was six-four and he had a black belt. He’d be good at protecting her from whatever it was that made her feel especially vulnerable.
When he stepped inside the cottage she was shaking. “I was checking the laundry,” he explained, staring down at her. “I thought you’d realize I’d check around.”
“Of course.” She turned away, but not before he saw her face.
Perturbed, he turned her around again, his hands firm on her shoulders. “Laura, what is this? You think I don’t know fear when I see it? I’ve witnessed it many times in life. If you feel like this, you must tell someone. Tell me. Who’s going to come to your door?”
“I’m so sorry, Evan. I’m just a nervous woman,” she apologized. “Some women are. We’re not all brave, especially when someone knows you’re on your own.” She was horrified that she continually failed the test to confide in him when she kept promising herself she would.
“You’re not on your own, Laura,” he protested. “Is this man of yours so damn bad you’re frightened he’s going to come after you? What then? He can’t force you to do anything you don’t want. Has he some hold over you? Is he somehow blackmailing you? Has he made you do things you didn’t like? What is it? Has he been making threats? Saying he’ll attempt suicide if you leave him? Is he saying any goddamn thing to hold onto you?” he
asked tautly.
She bit back a moan. Colin had done all those things. “All this because you gave me a fright?”
“You don’t dare tell me, do you?”
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Those few moments of involuntary fright bore witness to the unhealed scars Colin had left on her. Her beautiful eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. There was such shame deep within her for the ugly secret she carried around with her. It hit at her soul and all but undermined her self-respect.
“Don’t cry, Laura,” he begged. God help him she broke his heart.
“Oh, Evan!” She began to flail his chest helplessly.
“Come here to me.” She might have been a kitten in his arms, all softness and delicate bones.
The instant his arms closed around her she felt less frantic. Regaining a measure of control. This was Evan, not the monster she’d married. She pressed her body against his, feeding on his abundant strength. She loved the smell that came off his skin: like incense, warm, clean, male, already familiar to her as someone very dear. She had the sensation she was melting into him, hungry for the tenderness of the hand that stroked her. Such moments were idyllic. With Evan there would be no loss of control, no rush to violence.
“You’re not going to go to sleep on me again, are you? This happens every time I hold you in my arms.” His voice sounded indulgent, though a passionate desire for her was stirring his flesh.
“I may do,” she murmured, wanting these moments to last.
“You haven’t been treated properly, have you, Laura?”
“You treat me properly, Evan.”
“You know I want to make love to you?”
“Yes.” She trembled, overcome by the desire that rose at his call.
“Can you handle it?” He tipped up her head, to hold her green gaze.
“I don’t know that I’m any good at making love,” she confessed.
“Aren’t you?” His voice was both tender. “You could have fooled me. You need to feel safe, Laura. That’s all it is. You’ll be safe with me. We’ll go slowly. If you become frightened, we’ll draw back. You’re holding your breath. Let it go. I’ve kissed you before.”
“I loved it.”
“You’ll have your chance to prove it.” He swung her up into his arms, carrying her through to the parlour, where he held her cradled on the sofa.
He was so much in love with this strange contradictory girl he felt the force of it rise like the great jet of a fountain. Nonetheless he began to kiss her, his passionate desire almost overcoming his promise to go slowly. She was afraid of hurt. He couldn’t possibly risk hurting her with his vastly superior strength or the fiery energy that was in him.
Her mouth was so sweet, blissful, the velvet inside, her tongue. Her arousal was apparent. He could hear it in the soft little gathering cries that increased his own urgency.
He stroked the silky length of her arms, drew her up so she was even closer. Body to body. She clung to him, but he could sense a kind of conflict was happening inside her body, inside her head.
“Do you want me to stop?” He feared he was already too far along.
“No!” Her whisper was fervent. “It’s not you, it’s me. You’re wonderful.”
“So are you. Surely you know that?”
How could she answer? Tell him how Colin had habitually demeaned her? “Make love to me, Evan.”
He felt his senses reel. “You know I might reach a point when I won’t be able to stop? Even for you.” He had to warn her.
“You might discover you don’t want me.” That was dredged up from the taunts of the past.
“That’s not going to happen, Laura. Trust me.”
She sighed as if she were unburdening herself of all fears and anxieties. “All I want is for you to love me.”
Love her he did! He made her whole body bloom, her white skin turning roseate with the heat of her blood. She lay on her bed, her hair spread around her body, naked except for the cool white sheet, while Evan turned her to face him. He kissed her face, her ears, her throat and her breasts, moved his mouth over her stomach, moving lower and lower, very quiet about it, while her body clenched and unclenched as only rapture followed the thrilling trail of fire.
The most wonderful thing was happening to her. Up until then marital sex had been a nightmare. This flowering, this warm languor, was exquisite, though her breath came shorter and sharper as the life force flowed through her.
He was speaking very gently. She couldn’t speak herself. She was lost in the multitude of sensations his mouth and hands were calling forth with absolute quiet mastery.
Starlight showered the room; little squares of radiant moonlight fell on the rug. She knew he was propped up on an elbow, looking down at her face. She couldn’t see him now. Her eyes had closed tightly as the shimmering rapture mounted. She had to hold it in. Treasure it. She’d endured so much suffering.
He was tracing the contours of her breasts, his hands so strong yet so exquisitely tender as they circled towards the tightly furled nipple. She was blind. Blind to everything but pleasure. She had dreaded night-time, going to bed, the object of Colin’s sick obsession. She had never experienced anything remotely like this, her body shuddering not with pain but with a sensuality so voluptuous it was consuming her. There was no assault. This had nothing to do with bodily assault. This was the kind of lovemaking that approached pure magic.
“Laura?” He brushed his lips against hers. “Look at me.”
Even though she was drifting on a great wave of sexual excitement she heard his call. He kissed her naked shoulder, looked into her open eyes. “You’re exquisite! So exquisite you move me to tears.”
Imagine that! He thought her exquisite! How glorious those words sounded after Colin’s destructive names.
“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”
Such tenderness she had never known.
Her breath exhaled on a “Yes!” She had discovered the purest kind of desire. Now all she needed to make it perfect was their union.
Slowly, slowly, he entered her, holding down all momentum. He felt the fluttering in her womb, then the strong contraction to enclose him. Agony for him and yet an extravagant radiating pleasure. He wanted desperately to be gentle with her, but he didn’t know how to contain the deep driving male urge that might hurl him over the edge. Love was a flame!
He bore down, waited, heard her utter little moans he deduced as pleasure. The moans stretched out into a sob of wanting…wanting… He couldn’t mistake it. He began his plunge into her lovely receptive body, exultant as she met him with the most ravishing desire of her own.
Instantly he was empowered. He held back no longer. And his last thought before passion controlled him was that he could never lose her. This woman held his heart in her hands.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE period before Sarah’s wedding marked the happiest time of Laura’s life. The enormous sense of guilt which she’d associated with sex—she could never have called it lovemaking with Colin—had totally disappeared. Evan had given her such reassurance, such confidence in her capacity to give and receive pleasure, that her emotional boundaries had run out to the horizons.
She wasn’t a woman caged. She was free. She was able to enjoy life, to eat, to sleep, to resume the music that was in her blood. She was able to interact with all the new friends she was making. She could see people liked her from their smiling, welcoming faces.
That soul-destroying sense of fear and hopelessness she had endured living with Colin she’d pushed into some other place and shut the door. There were times when she had the occasional breakthrough—a kind of panic attack induced by some particularly bitter memory of her husband. But her new life at Koomera Crossing was beginning to take shape. She was in the process of becoming strong.
Several hours of the day she had taken to doing voluntary work at the Bush Hospital—something that gained her much gratitude from Sarah and the staff.
Fun
ding for rural and bush hospitals wasn’t high—Koomera Crossing Bush Hospital couldn’t do without regular injections of money from the McQueens, and the town itself staged fundraisers to help out. Laura, financially secure, insisted on taking no payment herself.
When she wasn’t doing clerical work, helping to clear the workload, she offered her services to the patients who had been admitted—reading aloud to them, helping them write letters, simply chatting, using her own gentle, very effective brand of comfort which, had she known it, was winning her more friends.
Life went on. She became very much a part of the music society—an enriching experience for all. Soon she would be able to put a strategy in place to end her violent marriage.
She had made the most glorious, fulfilling connection with a good man. She was deeply in love with him. Even if their love affair was not fated to be permanent, Evan had changed her. He had made her see herself differently. She was valued and valuable; a better woman in every sense of the word.
Their relationship got better every day. Both of them had accepted their intimate commitment as lovers, and Laura derived an enormous sense of security out of their closeness. Lying together, limbs entwined, in the aftermath of love, she often felt herself on the brink of telling Evan of her horribly fresh past. How her husband had abused and terrified her. But the mere thought of destroying the happiness she and Evan had achieved together stopped her tongue.
She couldn’t throw that away. Not yet. But she knew the day was fast coming when she could no longer evade the truth. It was crucial she tell him everything about the marriage she had allowed herself to be trapped in. It would be humiliating. No matter which way she looked at it, no matter the excuses she made for herself, she had lied to Evan.
But she wasn’t the same person now as she had been then. Unquestionably she was stronger. Though the only way she could be totally sure was to confront Colin and survive his anger.
Some part of her lived in astonishment that he hadn’t been able to trace her. She had communicated with her mother to let her now she was safe, and had discovered a tremendously angry and frustrated Colin had made the trip to New Zealand to find out what her mother knew. The meeting, with Colin’s threatening demeanour for once out in the open, had upset her mother terribly. Craig, her mother’s husband, had been forced to order Colin out of the house.