by Daphne Clair
'Do you want to sit down?' Gabriel asked.
Rhiannon shook her head. A strand of hair blew over her eyes and she brushed it aside. He wondered if she knew how it moulded the fabric of her shirt to her breasts. He wrenched his eyes away. Something in the water caught his gaze, and he automatically put an arm about Rhiannon's shoulder, pointing. 'Look over there.'
A dolphin arched, glistening, from the waves, then another joined it. Rhiannon gasped, and he looked down to see wonder on her face. Other people were exclaiming, and the speaker system blared into life, advising passengers of dolphins on the right.
The animals played about for some minutes, then dis appeared, and the excitement on board died down.
Rhiannon shivered and wrapped her arms about her self.
'Are you cold?' Gabriel inquired. 'We could go inside.'
'No, it's more fun out here.' But she shivered again, and without thinking he altered his position, moving be hind her and wrapping both arms about her waist.
He felt her slight stiffening, and clenched his jaw, prepared to release her. Then to his considerable aston ishment she relaxed, her shoulder resting on his chest, her back warming his, her sweet behind tantalisingly nestled against...
Don't go there.
He closed his eyes, but the pictures his imagination conjured didn't help. Opening his eyes again, he kept them wide until the wind stung them, hoping the pain would coerce his rebellious body into submission. A spatter of spray over the bow sent a few cold droplets into his face, as Rhiannon laughed and ducked her head.
It would take more than that to kill the heat that was burning him up, but he grabbed the chance to loosen his hold just a little, easing his lower body away. When the boat finally reached the shore he was torn between relief and reluctance as she moved and went ahead of him to disembark.
Rhiannon couldn't remember when she'd last done anything so spontaneous. Maybe the couple of glasses of bubbly she'd drunk had something to do with it.
But it was also the man who was sharing this mini- adventure. With Gabriel at her side there was no need to guard against unwelcome attention, to shy away from an admiring glance or a cheeky grin, or experience an uncomfortable prickle of warning down her spine when, strolling along a path above the water, they had to skirt a lounging lone male on a park seat, whose legs almost blocked the narrow path.
Gabriel walked with his hands in his pockets, then at a lower point jumped down onto the sandy beach and turned to take her hand while she did the same.
Rhiannon slipped off her sneakers and allowed the waves to wash over her feet as she had when she was a child. Gabriel stood by, a slight grin on his face.
She bent to pick a scallop shell out of the sand, pink, frilled and perfect, and went to join him, showing him her find before walking along the beach at his side.
She felt light, untrammelled—and happy.
The realisation was like a starburst of light around her. She momentarily lost her footing in the soft sand and stumbled, bumping Gabriel's arm as he steadied her with a tight grip on her hand.
Nearby a group of children chased one another in and out of the shallows, squealing. Somewhere a dog was barking. A couple walked by, arms about each other, a transistor radio blaring in the man's hand.
Rhiannon was oblivious to it all, lost in the smile that Gabriel slanted down at her.
'You okay?' he asked, a line appearing between his brows.
I'm in love, she thought, stunned. This is how it feels to be in love.
'Yes,' she said, unable to tear her gaze from him. 'Yes, I'm okay.'
Dimly she remembered similar sensations from her early teens, though nothing like this. Nothing so utterly certain, so deeply felt, so unwavering, and so...shatter ing.
'Rhiannon?' He lifted his free hand, touching her cheek with his fingers. 'What is it?'
She swallowed hard, and gave him a shaky smile back. 'I turned my ankle a bit.'
Immediately the frown deepened. He went down on one knee, saying, 'Show me! This one?' Strong fingers encircled her right ankle, giving her a small shock of something she couldn't put a name to as he looked up at her interrogatively.
'Gabriel!' She tried a shaky laugh. 'It's all right now, really.'
'You're sure?' When she nodded, he straightened and took possession of her hand again. 'You would tell me if you're hurt?'
'It was nothing. Truly.'
'Promise you won't lie to me.' He looked grave and intent.
'I won't.' Euphoria mingled with sick dismay and then panic.
Everything in her world had changed in a moment. She didn't have a clue what to do about it. 'I'm fine,' she said, already breaking her promise. What would he say if she told him she'd just discovered she loved him? She began walking again, forcing him to follow.
They climbed to the grass verge opposite the shopping centre, and Gabriel smiled as she tried to wipe sand from her feet, sitting on a set of steps leading from the beach to the shopping area. 'Use this,' he offered, pulling out a pristine handkerchief.
'It's too clean!'
'It'll wash. Take it.'
'Well...thanks.' She took it and did the best she could, then picked up a shoe and put it on.
Gabriel had the other in his hand. Kneeling a couple of steps below her, he grasped her ankle and slipped the shoe onto her foot. When he stood and offered her his hand, she was slightly dizzy.
They investigated a few open shops, and lost them selves for a while in a rabbit warren masquerading as a secondhand book store, emerging with a small bundle of books each.
Gabriel said, 'What say we eat here before we go back to the city?'
The sun was setting as they ordered their dinner and then opened their book parcels to inspect each other's choices. By the time they'd finished their meal and boarded the return ferry it was dark.
A girl in high-heeled boots, similar to those Peri had persuaded Rhiannon into, tripped somehow at the end of the ramp, landing on her knees, and Gabriel stepped for ward to help her up.
The girl pushed a mane of curly red hair from her eyes, which widened as they lit on her rescuer. 'Thank you,' she said breathlessly, leaning on his arm.
'Okay.' He steadied her and dropped his hands, re turning to Rhiannon's side.
Watching the girl's mouth droop in disappointment, Rhiannon couldn't help a sympathetic little laugh.
'Funny?' Gabriel asked, guiding her to a seat.
'Of course not. She isn't hurt, is she?'
'Nope. Those boots can be lethal, though. In more ways than one.' He cast her a sideways grin. 'How are yours?'
'I haven't worn them again. They were Peri's idea.'
'Peri's?'
'He said I couldn't go out wi—to something like that wearing my work clothes, and he took me shopping.'
'Took you?'
'He chose everything I wore that night.'
Gabriel was staring at her. 'Peri? He's gay?'
'A man doesn't have to be gay to be interested in clothes, but actually, yes. Does that shock you?'
'No! No,' he said. 'I should have guessed.'
In the distance they could see the approaching lights of the buildings and roadways edging the harbour. Rhiannon yawned and Gabriel pulled her close under his arm, elated when she laid her head against his chest and let her eyelids drift down.
She trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms. It was a huge, gigantic step but he was aware he mustn't mess up now. He'd have to tread carefully to build on the undoubted gains he'd made.
When the ferry docked she woke, but seemed almost to be in a dream until they reached the street and Gabriel hailed a taxi. Then she turned to him, the dazed look in her eyes beginning to dissipate. 'We're not walking back to the building?'
'I'm taking you home. You're not fit to drive.'
'My car...' she protested as he bundled her into the rear seat and climbed in after her, giving the driver the address.
'I'll get Mick to keep an e
ye on it.' He took out his mobile phone and started punching numbers into it, left a terse message and put the phone back in his pocket.
'I have had more wine than I'm used to,' Rhiannon admitted, stifling another yawn. They'd finished off a bottle at dinner.
'And you've been working all hours on that damned mosaic'
She laughed. 'It's your mosaic. I thought you liked it.'
'You're exhausted.'
'I'm tired,' she corrected. 'And it isn't your fault.'
He hadn't claimed it was, but she'd put her finger on the cause of his irritation.
'I should have sent you home to rest,' he muttered, 'instead of taking you off on a mad day trip.'
'I didn't need rest. And I've had a wonderful day.'
She reached out and touched his hand for a fraction of a second, and the effect on him was electric. Rhiannon wasn't given to spontaneous touching, and didn't even appear to realise she'd done it. He had to take several breaths before he could trust himself to say anything. 'I'm glad,' he managed.
Hardly a riveting speech. Fortunately she didn't seem to expect one; just gave him a sleepy smile and turned to stare out of the cab window, the passing streetlights giving him flickering glimpses of her profile and the slight, smiling curve on her mouth.
When they arrived he told the cabbie to wait and went with her to the door. 'If you give me your key,' he said, 'I'll see your car is taken to the parking building.'
She took the key off the ring she'd pulled from the pocket of her jeans, and put it in his outstretched hand. Looking away from him to the waiting taxi, she said hesitantly, 'If you'd like to come in...'
Gabriel held his breath. What did she have in mind? Whatever it was, he didn't trust himself not to take ad vantage of her uncharacteristic invitation once they were inside. And that wouldn't be fair. For one thing, he couldn't be sure it wasn't the wine talking. For another, she was dead tired and needed to sleep. 'I'll take a rain- check on that,' he said.
Wondering if he was being a total fool, he bent and I kissed her cheek, then left before he could be tempted to change his mind.
'You must be in love,' Peri said.
'What?' Startled, Rhiannon looked up, the book she'd been going to shelve forgotten in her hands.
'You've been standing there for the last five minutes staring at nothing. And you haven't heard a word I've said to you.'
Flushing, she said, 'I'm sorry, Peri. I was thinking.'
'It's your angel Gabriel, isn't it? And I don't mean the mosaic. How's it going, by the way?'
'I'll be grouting the top next week.'
Which meant she'd be halfway. More, really, because the bottom half would be easier. She had mixed feelings about the looming completion of the project, eager to get to the end and see her vision come to fruition, yet knowing it would signal a change in her relationship with Gabriel.
For weeks, the sexual hunger emanating from him that both confused and excited her had become muted to the point of non-existence. Sometimes she'd wondered if he'd given up on her after all, deciding not to waste time on a woman who couldn't give him what he wanted.
That ought to have set her mind at rest, not engen dered a strange hollow ache in her chest.
The realisation that she had fallen in love with him brought excruciating new complications and dilemmas. It was both exhilarating and frightening.
When Rhiannon started filling in the spaces between the tesserae with grouting, Gabriel offered his long arms for the top corner. She kept a critical eye on him, and when she took over gave him the task of sponging off the excess grouting before it dried.
After working for some time she stripped off her gloves and wiped her forehead, then flexed her stiffening right arm.
'Enough for now,' Gabriel said. 'You're stronger than you look, but this is hard yakker for you, and I'm hun gry. Did you eat before you came here?'
'I had a salad.'
'Salad!' He sounded disgusted. 'You need something more substantial than that. Why don't we go somewhere for a proper meal?'
Rhiannon indicated her shirt and jeans, streaked with patches of grouting. Even her rubber-soled canvas shoes hadn't escaped. The loan of a shirt wouldn't help much this time. 'You're joking.'
'Take-aways then,' Gabriel decided. 'What would you like? Chinese? Indian? Fish, sausages, oysters?'
The idea had its appeal, now that he mentioned it. 'Chinese,' Rhiannon said.
While she packed up her materials he went off to get it, returning with a large bag from which delicious smells wafted, a folded newspaper tucked under his arm. 'We can take this up to my office,' he suggested. 'More com fortable than sitting on the stairs.'
Leading the way, he tossed the newspaper on the cof fee table and put down the paper bag. When she emerged from the washroom after tidying and washing as well as she could, he had opened a cupboard and brought out plates, forks and wineglasses, then like a conjurer pro duced a bottle of wine.
It was a feast, and the fruity wine added to it.
After they'd finished eating, Rhiannon sat back in the corner of the sofa, still with a half-full glass in her hand. Gabriel, on the same sofa but a couple of feet away, was pouring more wine into his glass.
He proffered the bottle, but she shook her head. 'If you want your mosaic done right, don't ply me with wine.'
'You're not going to do any more tonight?'
'I'd like to finish that upper half,' Rhiannon said, 'and then you could get rid of the scaffolding.' She looked at her watch.
'All right, no more wine. How do you feel about ap ples?'
'Apples?' Rhiannon repeated blankly. There were none on the table.
'It's biblical,' Gabriel said. 'Never mind.'
He leaned back into the other corner of the sofa, one arm along its back, his eyes lazily on her.
Rhiannon finished her wine, and bent forward to put her glass on the table. The newspaper, folded in half, caught her eye, showing part of a photograph. A hand some, trim middle-aged man had his back to the camera as he walked away, but his face was half turned, an outstretched hand apparently motioning the photogra pher away.
Rhiannon leaned a little closer, her heart pounding, her temples, too. It couldn't be...
It was. She knew the face, though it was years since she'd seen the man.
On autopilot, her hand stretched out even as her mind recoiled. She clutched at the paper and the fold straight ened in her hand, showing the headline above the pic ture.
Therapist Accused it said in bold type.
Her gaze dropped to the first paragraph of the story.
Psychotherapist Gerald Dodd, accused by two former clients of sexual misconduct while they were being treated by him, refused to talk with our reporter after his appearance in court on Friday...
The words swirled before her eyes. Her hands started shaking, rattling the paper, and she dropped it onto her knees.
Gerald Dodd. The name echoed in her mind. She looked down again at the photograph, trying to take it in.
'Rhiannon?' Gabriel's voice was urgent. 'What's the matter?'
She looked up with dazed eyes, scarcely seeing him. In her mind she was sitting in a stuffy, badly lit room where a persistent fly buzzed against the Venetian blind vainly trying to find freedom. While Gerald Dodd, a hand on her knee, gazed into her eyes with a compas sionate brown stare and said, 'The condition of frigidity is curable, you know. I can help you.'
'Rhiannon?' The eyes looking into hers, coming closer and then halting as Gabriel checked his movement towards her, were silver-grey. 'Are you sick?'
She probably looked sick. Her head was swimming, and she felt cold all over. There was sweat on her fore head.
'I know him,' she whispered.
Gabriel shifted his gaze to the newspaper in her lap and reached for it, his eyes darkening. 'Someone died?'
He frowned down at the headlines, then his head jerked up. 'You know this man?'
Unable to speak, still less
to prevaricate, Rhiannon nodded.
Gabriel dropped his head, skimming the words, open ing out the remaining fold to see the rest of the story.
He looked up, his face drawn almost as though he were in pain. 'He was your therapist?' he queried. "The one who said you were frigid?'
Again she nodded, still frozen in shock.
His lips formed a silent swearword. Harshly he asked, 'Did he do this to you, too?'
The pages he held blurred before her eyes. 'I... h-haven't read it all,' she said.
'Sexual assault,' Gabriel said bluntly, distaste in his voice, his expression. He tossed the paper aside. 'The bastard took advantage of his patients, offered them what he called sexual therapy. He says they consented.'
'He would,' she said. 'He'd have listened to them pour out their most intimate secrets for months, given them sympathy, support, got closer to them in some ways than their own mothers. Made them dependent on him. Promised to cure them, help them to a normal state of mind and a happy life if they'd just trust him. That's how he...operated.'
But she'd known that it wasn't right. Confused and vulnerable though she'd been, at least she'd retained enough common sense to reject the specious arguments Gerald Dodd had put forward, recognising them for what they were.
Gabriel's eyes had darkened, and his face might have been carved in stone. 'Did you report him?'
Rhiannon shook her head. 'No one would have be lieved me. He told me that. He was a highly respected professional, and I was...a disturbed young woman.'
Gabriel seemed for a moment to have lost his usual composure. He looked so angry she drew a quick breath, and her hands fluttered in her lap.
He held out his own hands to her, his eyes softening, although his mouth hadn't lost its grim look.
Almost without thought, she reached out to him, and the warmth of his fingers flowed into hers and up her arms, until her whole body began to lose its sudden chill.
'He said...he said patients often deluded themselves about their therapist, imagined things that had never hap pened. I knew I hadn't imagined anything, but he nearly convinced me. I could see he'd have no problem con vincing any inquiry.'