Scandal and Secrets

by Miranda Lee

  'Take me out to dinner tomorrow tonight.'

  'You have to be joking! I won't be seen in public with you. I'm not going to make a laughing-stock of myself for the sake of this.'

  'For the sake of what?'

  'This!' he snarled, and crushed her to him, taking her mouth in a savage kiss that branded his feelings for what they were: lust. Nothing more. They had never been anything more. He knew it and she knew it. But the realization still had the power to bring pain. Celeste pushed him away and scrambled off his lap to stand with her hands on her hips.

  'Then to hell with you, Byron Whitmore! I'm not some cheap whore to be visited in the dead of night down some dark alley. Whatever you pretend in public, you're no better than me, are you? You're here and you wanted me as much as, if not more than, I wanted you.'

  Byron's mouth twisted his face hardening at her accusation. 'Yes,' he admitted with a healthy dose of bitter remorse. 'But I'm not proud of it.'

  'Why not?'

  He threw her a disbelieving glance.

  'You're a normal man, aren't you?' she taunted. 'Well, a normal man has normal male desires. Surely you're not going to tell me you've only been holding hands with Catherine? No, I didn't think so. Your wife's dead, Byron, which means you're either going to be celibate for the rest of your life, marry again, have one-night stands or come to a sensible arrangement with some co-operative woman. Who better than me? As for the gossip-mongers ... They'll have a field-day for a whole week, but if you don't react they'll forget you and me and move on elsewhere.'

  'And what of my family?' he pointed out scornfully. 'You're not exactly well liked around Belleview. Nathan, for one, detests you. He ... Oh, my God, Nathan! I forgot all about him and Gemma. Hell, I forgot everything!' He jumped to his feet and glared at her. 'I usually do whenever I go anywhere near you, don't I? What is it? Have you cast a spell on me? Sold your soul to the devil in exchange for mine? Damn you, cover yourself up! How can I have a sensible discussion with you when you stand there, flaunting yourself at me?'

  Celeste shrugged, but wrapped the robe more modestly around herself. 'You can't live your life by what others think, Byron.'

  His laughter was rueful. 'You certainly don't.'

  'No, I don't. People will believe whatever they want to anyway.'

  'Are you referring to me?'

  'Among others. You're no better than all those narrow-minded little people who gobble up everything they read in the tabloids without stopping to question a thing. They love reading dirt and believing dirt. It's so very easy to make the general public think very badly of you. So very, very easy.'

  Byron was frowning at her. 'You make it sound like you deliberately set out to make that happen.'

  'Maybe I have .. .'

  'Why would you do that?' he jeered.

  'Why not? Maybe it amused me. Good God, Byron, if I'd had as many lovers as the papers and magazines suggested I had, I wouldn't have had time to do any work. I'd have been flat on my back all the time.'

  'Or on your knees,' he sneered.

  Her hand flashed out to crack him a beauty around the face. 'Don't you ever say that to me again? I have never done that for any other man, do you hear me? Not a one!'

  Immediate skepticism flittered across his eyes, quickly followed by a definite doubt, then finally a troubled acceptance of the truth. 'I see no reason for you to lie to me about that, so I apologize.'

  'Apology accepted,' she choked out, blinking madly as her eyes filled with unexpected tears.

  This only made his frown deepen. 'I've really upset you, haven't I? he said with surprise in his voice.

  'It doesn't matter.'

  'Of course it does. I. . .I guess I forgot ... '

  'Forgot what?'

  'That you are still a human being,' he said gently. 'With feelings.'

  That almost did it. Celeste's only salvation was to walk away so that he couldn't see the blurring in her eyes and the torment in her face. Gathering herself quickly as she walked, she was able to turn when she reached the open doorway, a cool mask in place. 'I think you'd better go.'

  He sighed. 'Yes. I think I'd better.'

  'You can tell Nathan with a clear conscience that Gemma is not here.'

  'And you honestly don't know where she is?'

  'No, I do not. To be honest I regret becoming involved at all. Gemma and Nathan are nothing to me.'

  'Damian is your brother. If he's involved, then so will you be.'

  'I don't see it that way. Damian's an adult. I'm not responsible for what he does. I think you would be wise to adopt a similar attitude with Nathan. His marriage is his marriage. He won't appreciate your interference.'

  'You could be right. But since Gemma hasn't seen fit to tell him what she thinks she saw, I have no option but to do so.'

  'Maybe. But after that, it's up to Nathan to fight his own battles. But let me give you a bit of female advice. If he's been unfaithful to her, then I don't like his chances.'

  'Not all wives throw out their husbands for one lapse,' he said pointedly.

  Celeste smiled. It was not a nice smile. 'If you're referring to darling Irene, then not all women are as forgiving and Christian as my sweet half-sister, are they?'

  'Are you being sarcastic, Celeste?'

  'Of course I'm being bloody sarcastic, Byron!' she stormed. 'God, you were as blind about her as you were about everything else. Didn't you ever find out what a bitch she was? What an evil, manipulative, cruel bitch?'

  Byron stared at her.

  'Just ask Ava! Or Jade! Or anyone else other than your own stupid self. You married a monster, Byron. Oh, yes, she loved you, much more than she hated everyone else!'

  Celeste laughed as he continued to stare at her. 'I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on you. You're just a man, after all. What man can resist having a woman who is willing to play any role to fit the occasion and flatter his ego? Blushing virgin fiancée, then adoring bride, and finally the understanding and ever-sacrificing wife. I wouldn't have believed any of it if I hadn't seen it for myself. But she couldn't keep it up, could she? In the end her dark side came to the fore, didn't it?'

  'I don't want to hear this,' he muttered.

  'I'm sure you don't. Who wants to hear the awful truth?'

  'She was a sick woman. I know that. But I couldn't throw her away, could I? Not after I-'

  'Done her wrong?' Celeste broke in scoffing.

  Byron's eyes narrowed. 'Yes,' he bit out. 'I should never have married her.'

  'You didn't love her, did you?'

  'No.'

  Celeste's heart contracted, just before it swelled with a heart-wrenching emotion. 'I knew you didn't love her,' she said in a strangled voice. 'How could you? You loved me!'

  'Loved you!' he spluttered. 'I never loved you. You were nothing but a ... a sickness! One I don't seem to have developed an immunity for. But at least now my sickness doesn't have to hurt anyone else. I have that salve for my conscience. And who knows? Maybe if I have your often enough this time, this damnable fire that has tormented me all these years might burn itself out at long last!'

  For a few agonizing seconds this new but equally brutal rejection of her love almost did what his earlier rejections had not succeeded in doing. But at the last moment, Celeste gathered herself, a bitter little smile curving her mouth.

  'Oh, I doubt that, Byron,' she drawled. 'I doubt that very much. However, I suggest you do go home now. I've had enough of you for tonight. But we'll never be finished. Not while there's breath in my body. Let yourself out. I'll lock up later.'

  Her smile faded once she'd made it into the bathroom and shut the door. There, she surveyed herself in the mirror with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. It had been imperative, of course, that she not break down again. If she had, nothing would have saved her. Not drugs, or doctors, or anything.

  Of course she should never have slept with Byron again. It had opened a Pandora's box of emotions that were dangerously difficult to control.


  But that didn't mean she wouldn't do her damnedest to control them. She might still love and desire the man, but she also hated and despised him. I was a volatile mixture, one which would need the most careful of handling if she was to survive unscarred for a second time.

  And Celeste meant to survive. Oh, yes ... she hadn't come this far to go under now. If there was to be a victim this time, it wasn't going to be her!

  After a few minutes, Celeste exited from the bathroom to find the bedroom blessedly empty. So was the rest of the house. Byron's car was no longer in the driveway.

  She closed the front gates, locked up, then went back upstairs to have a relaxing shower and climb into bed where she did her best to will herself into a calm, restful sleep.

  But Celeste was to find that sleep was one thing she was powerless to control. So were her dreams. When sheer exhaustion finally claimed her in the early hours of the morning, her mind was filled with nightmares in which a face came back to haunt her from the past, a hard sculpted face with chilling blue eyes and a granite jaw and fists like iron.

  Celeste was in conference with Luke, briefing him further on his new position, when the red light on her desk winked on. With a tut-tut of irritation, she flicked the switch on her intercom system and leant forward.

  'Yes, Ruth?' she asked the temp she'd had sent over this morning from an agency Campbell's always used.

  'A Mr Whitmore to see you, Ms Campbell.'

  Celeste's stomach clenched down hard. Byron hadn't waited long to inform Nathan, it seemed. And Nathan hadn't taken long in showing up. Dear God, the last thing she wanted today was to have to placate some irrational and potentially violent husband. Not only did she have serious business on her plate, but she felt emotionally fragile. Still, Nathan was unlikely to simply go away, and she didn't think it would be wise if she asked him to wait.

  'Show Mr Whitmore in, Ruth.'

  'Yes, Ms Campbell.'

  'Sorry, Luke,' she apologized as she got to her feet. 'Here. Take these sales analyses and see for yourself where our weaknesses lie, then start formulating a plan to redress matters, both short-term and long-term.'

  Luke took the huge pile of computer printouts and threw her one of his little-used smiles, one which quite transformed his face from ordinary to extremely attractive. The smile still lingered on his face as he turned and met Mr Whitmore on his way in.

  Not Nathan Whitmore, Celeste saw to her intense dismay. Byron Whitmore.

  She froze the events of last night seeming not only more shocking in the cold light of day, but almost unreal. Looking at Byron standing there in his navy pin-striped suit, the very essence of dignified respectability, made it difficult to cope with the images that kept popping into her mind. Her salvation was the sardonic expression that slid into his bright blue eyes as they raked over the smiling Luke.

  'Thank you, Ruth,' she said dismissively to the secretary. 'I'll see you later, Luke,' she added in deliberate defiance of Byron's presence. 'We'll have lunch together. Book somewhere near, would you?'

  To give him credit, Luke accepted these sudden arrangements with casual aplomb. Celeste realized she had found a gem in that young man.

  The office door closed behind the departing people and Celeste was left to stare across the room at the man she both loved and hated.

  'I take it that Luke is the Luke you referred to last night?' he said with cool derision.

  'Of course.'

  'You're sleeping with him?'

  'Actually, no. Not yet. Cats like to play with their mice for a while first.'

  'I'm no mouse, Celeste,' he warned darkly. 'You play with me at your own risk.'

  'Maybe risk turns me on, Byron.'

  'What doesn't?' he sneered.

  'Losing.'

  Darting a black look, he slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers and began to pace to and fro across the dark green carpet in front of her desk. 'I haven't come here to indulge in smart-arse repartee, Celeste. I've come for some answers.'

  Celeste sighed and sat back down in her large black leather swivel chair. 'I told you before, Byron. I do not know where Damian and Gemma are. You've wasted your time coming here. I cannot be browbeaten into confessing something I don't know.'

  When Byron ground to a halt in front of her desk, his dark brows bunched together in a troubled frown, Celeste found herself staring at his firm male mouth and remembering the pleasure it had given her the previous evening. She squirmed on the leather chair, hating her vulnerability to this man almost as much as she found it exciting and irresistible.

  'I haven't come here about Nathan,' he said curtly. Celeste forced herself to sit still and think clearly.

  'You haven't told him yet about why Gemma left him?'

  'Yes, I told him.'

  'And?'

  'I let him think she'd contacted me and told rile why she'd left,' he admitted grudgingly. 'I had to lie and say she hung up without telling me any real details and that I had no idea where she'd temporarily run off to.'

  'And that satisfied him?'

  'I wouldn't describe Nathan's reaction as satisfied. Frankly, I didn't understand his reaction at all! If I didn't know better I'd say he was relieved, which hardly makes sense.'

  'No, it doesn't. What man would be relieved to find out his wife believes he's cheating on her? What other dark secrets does he have on his conscience, I wonder ... ?'

  'God, not you too. Ava's been giving me curry over this as well. She heard me on the phone to Nathan. When I was forced to admit Gemma had left Nathan she ripped right into Nathan's character. Why does everyone speak so badly of him? What's he ever done to deserve such treatment?'

  'Aside from his rather colorful background, Byron, he did divorce his wife and marry a girl almost young enough to be his daughter.'

  'Lenore divorced him, god-dammit! She and Nathan only ever married in the first place because she was pregnant with Kirsty. As for Gemma... I can well understand his becoming besotted with someone young like her. She was innocent, you see, innocent and untouched. The complete opposite to that rotten mother of his, and that other old tart who got hold of him when he was only a boy. Good God, why can't people appreciate what a fantastic job he's done of turning his life around? The man's a credit to himself!'

  'And to you?'

  'No, not to me! I didn't do all that much. He did it all himself.'

  'You gave him a home, Byron. And you loved him. Love can heal a lot of wounds.'

  Byron didn't seem to hear the sad irony in her words, sweeping on with his usual insensitivity. 'This is why I want you to get a message to Gemma if you can. That girl loves Nathan. I know she does. She would forgive him anything.'

  'Even adultery?'

  'He swore blind he'd not been having an affair with Lenore. Apparently, she had been at his flat on the Sunday, which was stupid of him, I suppose. But he says he was helping her rehearse a difficult section of the play which opens this Friday. He thinks Gemma might have jumped to conclusions because he was also with Lenore at my party last Friday night. He can see it must have looked bad but all he wants is a chance to explain.'

  'I wonder if he'd give her the chance to explain if the situation was reversed?' Celeste mused aloud.

  'Of course he would,' Byron stated pompously. 'Why wouldn't he?'

  'Because men don't always want to hear women's explanations. They're princes at jumping to conclusions. A lot of girls who are merely silly are branded sluts without a trial, without even a hearing.'

  'Are you referring to yourself, Celeste?’

  ‘To me?' Celeste surveyed his blustering anger with a wry ruefulness. 'Of course not, Byron. Why would I do that? You didn't jump to conclusions about me, did you? You simply believed what the woman who loved you told you. What motive would she possibly have had to lie?'

  'Why are you taking this stance after all these years?' he asked, throwing his hands up in the air with a frustrated groan. 'You can't honestly expect me to believe you were a total innocent
that first time-or later. If that was so, then why have you led such a decadent life since then? All those young men! A few weeks ago it was your chauffeur. Now you've set your sights on that poor bastard who just left here. God, I pity him!'

  'Why? I'm going to look after Luke very well. He's going places around here.'

  'He sure is! Right into your bed!'

  'Not for a while, Byron,' she informed him silkily.

  'Why the delay? Why not invite him home tonight, with us? I'm sure it won't be the first time you've had more than one man at a time.'

  A pained outrage sent color to her cheeks and fury pulsing through her veins. But when she spoke, her words were laced with an icy venom that refused to deny his vile accusation.