Moondrift

by Anne Mather

  Jordan stared at him. ‘But—why?’

  ‘Well, he was supposed to be on holiday. When Bernie rang and put the idea to him, he could have refused. But, according to Rhys, he couldn’t get through to you, so he copped out.’

  ‘Is that what he said?’

  ‘More or less.’ Chas sighed. ‘What went wrong with you two? Ten years ago, you had it made!’

  ‘Ten years ago I didn’t know about Jennifer,’ said Jordan quietly.

  ‘Jennifer!’ Chas was scathing.

  ‘She was his wife.’

  ‘She was a money-grubbing little bitch!’ retorted Chas savagely. ‘I know she’s dead and she can’t defend herself, but she made Rhys’s life a misery. Luckily for him she walked out before he made the big time. He was only eighteen when they got married, you know. He’d forgotten all about her until she turned up on Eleutha.’

  ‘She said—Rosa said—she’d been looking for him for ages,’ said Jordan unevenly.

  ‘I bet she had.’ Chas grimaced. ‘After Jack Costa gave her the elbow, she was desperate. It’s not so easy to find a meal ticket with a kid hanging round your neck.’

  Jordan bent her head. ‘Poor Lucy!’

  ‘Yeah!’ Chas nodded. ‘It’s a cruel thing to say, I know, but the luckiest thing that ever happened to her was when her mother was killed. Rhys took responsibility for her, you see, and after the kind of upbringing he had had, there was no way he was going to leave Lucy to be brought up in the care of the local council.’

  Jordan stared at him, hardly daring to believe her ears. ‘Lucy—Lucy had no—legal rights?’

  ‘Damn right.’ Chas was vehement. ‘Didn’t you know Rhys took a blood test, just to prove he wasn’t her father? It was the only way he could get Jennifer off his back. But then—when she was killed …’

  Jordan quivered. ‘I didn’t know—about the blood test.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said Chas, drawing away from her now. ‘I mean, you didn’t want to know, did you? You wouldn’t even talk to him. Rhys was pretty cut up about that.’

  Jordan shook her head. ‘I didn’t think there was any point.’

  ‘Rhys thought there was. He thought you were in love with him.’

  ‘I was!’ Jordan bit her lip. ‘I am. Oh, you don’t understand, I was too young to think sensibly. And afterwards—when Rhys took Lucy——’

  ‘—you took the easy way out.’

  ‘It wasn’t easy!’ Jordan was defensive. ‘I just wasn’t that sure of myself. It wasn’t as if we were engaged or anything.’

  ‘A ring means that much to you?’

  ‘Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know …’

  Chas shrugged. ‘Well, Rhys can be stubborn, too. I guess he thought he’d get over you. There’s certainly been no shortage of females willing to prove his theory these past ten years.’

  Jordan winced. ‘And has he?’

  Chas looked at her. ‘What do you think?’

  Jordan lifted her shoulders. ‘He—hasn’t.’

  ‘You’d better believe it,’ said Chas, with sudden emotion. ‘Hey, Bernie——’ He turned to the little man who had been trying to make himself invisible during their conversation. ‘Let’s go and get a beer. We’re not needed here right now. Jordan’s going to wait for Rhys, aren’t you?’

  Jordan nodded, then she touched Chas’s sleeve. ‘Thanks—for everything.’

  ‘Don’t thank me.’ Chas pulled a wry face. ‘If it hadn’t been for me, Jennifer would never have split you two up in the first place. Only don’t tell Rhys I told you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jordan stared at him.

  ‘It was Petra who told Jennifer where Rhys was,’ explained Chas drily. ‘Do you remember Petra? I always suspected she was only using me to get to Rhys. Then, when she found out about you, she decided to make some mischief.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ONCE she was left alone, much of Jordan’s confidence melted. It had seemed natural to accept what Chas had told her while he was there, but it was not so easy now that he and Bernie Withers had gone. The waiting room was bleak and empty, her own reasons for being there lacking in substance, and although she obtained some coffee from the automatic machine provided, even its restoring flavour could not dispel her apprehension.

  Now and again, the doors leading to the surgical wards opened and a doctor or a nurse passed through, but they paid little attention to Jordan. Apart from the faint acknowledgement of a lifted eyebrow, or the tentative beginnings of a smile, they were too absorbed in their own affairs to offer her any consolation, and by the time Rhys appeared, her doubts about this mission had all been revived.

  Rhys came into the waiting area wearily, pushing back his hair with a tired hand, and turning to bid farewell to the doctor who had accompanied him. ‘Go home and get some rest, Mr Williams,’ the surgeon advised him kindly. ‘I’ll ring you as soon as I have any news. Don’t worry, Lucy’s going to be all right.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  As Rhys shook hands with the doctor, Jordan got to her feet, and Doctor Alexander’s eyes moved speculatively over to her. ‘Is this—your wife, Mr Williams?’ he asked, nodding politely towards her.

  ‘No.’ Rhys’s mouth tightened as he made the introduction. ‘Miss—Lucas is just a friend.’ Then, before any further questions could be asked, he ushered Jordan across the floor. ‘You have my number. I’ll be waiting for your call.’

  His hand dropped from her arm before they reached the fire doors, and their footsteps crunched softly over the rubber flooring. He didn’t speak until they had reached the lifts and were safely inside, and even then his words were formal and detached.

  ‘Have Chas and Bernie left?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jordan’s response was somewhat breathy. ‘They said they’d see you later. I—how is Lucy?’

  ‘She’ll be okay.’ Rhys put a hand against the wall of the lift to support himself. ‘It was a crazy thing she did—stepping off the kerb like that. You couldn’t blame the motorist. He didn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘Oh, but Mr Withers said——’

  ‘Take no notice of Bernie. He’s biased,’ said Rhys drily. ‘It was an accident, pure and simple. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine, for bringing her to New York.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself!’ Jordan sighed. ‘It could have happened in London just as easily.’

  Rhys looked down at the floor of the lift. ‘Yes—well, perhaps you’re right. Maybe I’ll feel differently when I know she’s better. Right now, it’s easier to accept the responsibility.’

  ‘Easier?’ Jordan stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  Rhys looked up, his eyes remote. ‘If I have to think about Lucy, I don’t have time to think about myself. And that makes life bearable.’

  Jordan was still trying to understand this when the lift stopped at the ground floor, and she accompanied him along the corridor to the reception area almost absently. She was hardly aware of the small stir Rhys’s appearance caused among the nurses, and only when they emerged into the cold night air did she begin to take notice of her surroundings again.

  ‘We’ll go to the apartment,’ said Rhys, leading the way to where a sleek limousine was waiting. ‘That is, if you’re coming back with me. I guess Rosa must have given you the telephone number and that’s how you came to speak to Bernie.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, she gave me your address,’ said Jordan softly. ‘I went to the apartment earlier on. That’s how I learned where you were.’

  Rhys unlocked the door at her side of the car and in the lights from the hospital she could see his tense expression. ‘You came to New York to find me?’ he demanded harshly.

  ‘I told you that already,’ Jordan answered, looking up at him, and swinging open her door, Rhys walked swiftly round the bonnet.

  ‘Get in,’ he directed, opening his own door, and Jordan’s heart thumped unsteadily as he coiled his length beside her.

  The ignition fired at the first attempt, a
nd Rhys reversed the car out of its bay. The powerful Cadillac responded smoothly beneath his hands, and as they turned out of the hospital gates Rhys explained, rather stiltedly, that he had use of the car along with the apartment.

  ‘They both belong to a friend of mine,’ he said, accelerating towards the first set of traffic signals. ‘What did you think of the apartment? It’s a little overpowering, isn’t it?’

  ‘I didn’t see the apartment,’ said Jordan uncomfortably. ‘The doorman—commissionaire—wouldn’t let me in. Not until he’d checked with you. Only you weren’t there, so Mr Withers came down. I think he thought you’d sent for me.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Rhys made a sound of acknowledgment. ‘Bernie would think that. Everything’s black and white to him.’

  Jordan looked across at him. ‘Not to you?’

  ‘No.’ Rhys concentrated on the busy road ahead of them. ‘People aren’t like that. They have emotions—feelings; and failings, as you’d probably agree.’

  Jordan bent her head. ‘Did you want me to come? Were you glad to see me?’

  Rhys shook his head. ‘That depends.’

  She felt chilled. ‘On what?’

  ‘On why you’re here.’ Rhys permitted himself a brief glance in her direction. ‘Are you sure Chas didn’t get in touch with you?’

  ‘Of course, I’m sure.’ Jordan moistened her lips. ‘But would it matter if he had?’

  Rhys sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

  Jordan’s brow furrowed. ‘You’re not making much sense.’

  ‘No.’ His fingers slid round the wheel. ‘I guess I’m tired. I’ve been at the hospital since last night.’

  Jordan hesitated. ‘Would you rather I went away again? I’m staying with some friends on Third Avenue. You could take me there, if you’d rather.’

  It took a lot to make that statement, and after it was made, Jordan waited apprehensively for Rhys’s reply. If he sent her away now, she would know it was over. And after what Chas had told her, how could she blame Rhys if he did?

  ‘No!’ Rhys’s response was curt, but instantaneous. ‘We’ll go to the apartment,’ he added tautly. ‘I need a shower and a change of clothes. I managed to shave with one of those disposable razors in the men’s room, but I need to freshen up. Then we’ll talk.’

  They left the car at the entrance to the underground parking area that ran beneath the apartments. Another uniformed attendant would park it, and Rhys handed him a twenty-dollar bill along with the keys.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Williams,’ the man saluted him gratefully, and Jordan gave Rhys an amazed look as they walked into the building.

  ‘Twenty dollars!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just for parking your car!’

  ‘It’s only money,’ said Rhys drily, as the doorman Jordan had seen previously rose to greet them. ‘Good evening, Shannon. I believe you met Miss Lucas earlier.’

  Shannon grinned a little ruefully. ‘Yes, sir. Hello again, Miss Lucas. You found him, after all.’

  Jordan smiled. ‘Yes.’ She glanced awkwardly at Rhys. ‘Thank you for your help.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ averred the doorman politely, and Jordan found herself entering one of the steel-lined lifts which had looked so desirable on her last visit.

  Rhys leaned against the wall of the lift as it whisked them up forty-three floors in approximately as many seconds. When the doors opened on to a discreetly-lit corridor, carpeted in a finely-woven woollen broad-loom, Jordan felt as if her stomach were still somewhere around the tenth floor, and her legs felt like jelly as she followed Rhys’s lead.

  A panelled door, lightly grained, and piped with gold, opened into a long narrow hallway. Rhys waited until she had followed him inside, before locking the door again and attaching a safety chain. Then he led the way along the hall and into the spacious living room.

  As he switched on the shaded lamps, Jordan saw at once what he had meant before. The décor was almost completely white, the only real splash of colour coming from a bowl of yellow and gold chrysanthemums, set rather incongruously on a glass table in the middle of the floor. Everything else—carpet, blinds, velvet sofas, and tubular steel furniture—echoed the monotonous absence of character, and she turned on her heel to absorb the full effect.

  ‘Ghastly, isn’t it?’ said Rhys, tossing his keys on to the cocktail cabinet and helping himself to a generous measure of Scotch. ‘Lucy bought the flowers, just before—well, just before she had the accident. I guess the daily woman thought they were better there than dying in the kitchen where I left them.’

  Jordan dropped her handbag to the floor and looked at him. ‘Oh, Rhys,’ she said unsteadily. And then: ‘I am sorry,’ and his hand shook a little as he lifted the glass to his lips.

  ‘Are you?’ he said at last, putting the empty glass back on the tray and looking at her reflection in the smoked glass above the cabinet. ‘Well——’ he turned abruptly to face her, ‘I’ll go and take that shower. Help yourself to anything you want while I’m away.’

  ‘Can’t I come with you?’ With unsteady fingers, Jordan unbuttoned her coat and slipped it off her shoulders. ‘I—I could wash your back. You used to like me to do that, do you remember?’

  ‘Jordan!’

  His agonised use of her name had a desperate ring, and although he had turned his back on her again, Jordan quickly crossed the space between them. ‘I love you,’ she breathed, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her face to the male-scented suede of his jacket. ‘I always have, and I always will. I was just too proud and too stubborn to admit it before.’

  Rhys took a tortured breath. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he muttered, making no attempt to touch her, though she could tell from the rigidity of his body that it was taking all his self-control not to do so. ‘Are you sure you’re not just—feeling sorry for me at the moment? Lucy’s going to get better. I can cope with it.’

  ‘Oh, Rhys!’ With a little groan, she buried her face against his jacket. ‘Do you want me or don’t you? If you’ve got any doubts, then tell me, because I don’t think I can take much more.’

  ‘You can’t take much more!’ he echoed hoarsely, pulling her round until she was facing him. ‘How do you think I feel?’ And holding her face between his hands, he covered her mouth with his.

  There was a hungry urgency in his kiss that betrayed the depth of his feelings for her. Jordan’s lips parted at the first touch of his mouth and its sensual invasion sent the blood like liquid-fire through her veins. She clung to him fervently as the white heat of his passion engulfed them both, and the moist intimacy of his mouth-to-mouth possession dispelled any lingering doubts she might have had.

  ‘Have I answered your question?’ he demanded a few minutes later, and she pressed her lips to the opened vee of his shirt, tasting his heated skin.

  ‘Are you going to let me stay?’ she breathed, parting all the buttons of his shirt, and she felt the shudder that passed through him.

  ‘Just try to get away,’ he muttered, swinging her up into his arms, and her fingers found his lips as he carried her out of the stark living room and into his bedroom.

  Hours later, when they had made love and showered together, and then made love again, Jordan stirred sleepily in Rhys’s arms. It was dark beyond the heavy curtains at the windows, but in the lamplit bedroom it was warm and comfortable, the downy quilt that covered them generating little more heat than the entwined closeness of their bodies.

  Rhys was still sleeping, Jordan saw contentedly, turning her head on the pillow where Rhys had cushioned his face on her hair. Already he looked more relaxed—younger, she realised, with some gratification—and disarmingly vulnerable in this sensual, abandoned state.

  As if he had just become aware of her innocent appraisal, Rhys’s eyes opened suddenly, and his lean features took on an expression of unconcealed satisfaction. ‘I was half afraid I was dreaming,’ he muttered, cupping her face with his hand and bringing her mouth to his. ‘Oh, love—how have I lived so long without you?’
>
  Jordan looped her arms around his neck, loving the feel of his hair-roughened skin against hers. ‘It was my fault,’ she breathed. ‘Blame me, not yourself. If I hadn’t been so stupid, you might not have gone away.’

  Rhys buried his face in her nape. ‘I should have told you I’d been married. I should have told you about Jennifer.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Jordan threaded her fingers through his hair. ‘But I should have been prepared to believe you. If I’d had more faith in your feelings for me, things might have been so different.’

  ‘It’s over now.’ Rhys drew back to deposit light kisses at the corners of her mouth. ‘We can’t undo the past. But we have got the future, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘If it’s what I want?’ Jordan gazed at him tremulously. ‘Is it what you want?’

  Rhys groaned. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted, don’t you know that?’ He paused. ‘Didn’t Chas tell you?’

  ‘Chas told me a lot of things.’ Jordan’s tongue touched his lips. ‘He’s very fond of you, you know.’

  ‘Yes—well, Chas and I go back a long way,’ conceded Rhys huskily. ‘I guess that’s why I——’ He broke off and then continued unsteadily: ‘Why did you come to New York, Jordan? I promise, you can tell me the truth. If it was Chas who told you, I don’t care any more. Just so long as we’re together, that’s all I really want.’

  Jordan blinked. ‘No one told me about Lucy’s accident, if that’s what you mean. Rhys, I came—because I had to see you. I had to find out, once and for all, whether Rosa was telling the truth.’

  ‘Rosa?’ Rhys looked puzzled. ‘What did Rosa tell you?’

  Jordan sighed. ‘She told me she thought you were still in love with me. She said she didn’t think you’d been happy while you were staying on the island.’ She flushed. ‘She said you—drank a lot.’

  Rhys’s lips twisted. ‘I see.’

  ‘Wasn’t it true?’ Jordan looked anxious.

  ‘About my not being happy? Oh, that was true enough,’ murmured Rhys fervently, his hand sliding possessively over her breast. ‘Knowing you were there, just a few miles away; hating me, as I thought—no, I wasn’t happy.’