by Miranda Lee
His unexpected sympathy today had got to her for a while but, in the end, he'd turned it to his own advantage, using her momentary vulnerability as a springboard to yet another sexual encounter. If ever Celeste needed a recent example of male selfishness, then that would suffice. Or she could gaze upon this crushed creature and her big bruised eyes.
Damn, but she wished she could help her, really help her. But she felt so helpless.
'Get lost, Damian,' she bit out, taking his place on the armrest of Gemma's chair and putting a sympathetic arm around her slender shoulders.
'Things might not be as bad as you think, love,' she said softly once Damian had departed. 'I was speaking to Byron today and it seems Nathan insists he's innocent of any wrong-doing with Lenore.'
'Then he's a liar!' the girl bit out heatedly. 'I. . .I heard him, with my own ears. He ... he spent the night with her. And he said other things. Awful things.' She shuddered violently and Celeste wanted to kill Nathan anew. But she had to give this child some hope.
'Sometimes people say things they don't mean to say, Gemma. And they do things they don't mean to do. Men will be men, my dear. Nathan's spending the night with his ex-wife might not be as black and white as it seems. Have-er-things been all they should be between you two in the bedroom lately?'
Celeste could not misinterpret the guilty color that flooded the girl's cheeks. So! Things hadn't been all hunky-dory between them.
'It had been a couple of weeks since we'd made love,' she admitted unhappily.
'You ... you haven't been having an affair with Damian, have you?' she asked carefully.
'No!' There was no doubting the girl's horror at this suggestion. 'I would never do a thing like that. I love Nathan. I always will!' She burst into tears at that, weeping into the crumpled handkerchief in her hands.
'There, there .. .' Celeste patted her gently on the shoulder. 'Perhaps you should go upstairs, get yourself together, wash your face and then we'll have dinner. I'll walk up with you.'
Celeste kept a comforting arm around her waist as they walked slowly up the stairs together, surprised at the tug of emotion she was feeling for this sweet child. It was not just sympathy. It was a real empathy.
She's so like I was at her age, came the dismaying realization. Basically innocent and naive, yet extremely sexual and emotional. Falling in love meant giving of oneself utterly and totally. What a pity the men we fell in love with didn't return the same unfailing devotion.
Celeste resisted telling Gemma that men were not as simple and straightforward as women. She saw no point in making her as cynical and world-weary as she was, or in explaining to her that a man could sleep with one woman, claiming he loved her, then marry another a few months later. Or that, while married to that woman, he could still lose himself in that first woman's body to such an extent that all reality had ceased to exist, only to turn on her a few minutes later, deriding her most cruelly and banishing her from his life.
Or maybe she should? Maybe it was time the girl heard some of the facts of life.
'How old are you, Gemma?' she asked as they turned at the landing and mounted the rest of the stairs.
'Twenty. I think.'
Celeste frowned. 'What do you mean, you think?'
The girl sighed. 'It's a long story. My birth certificate turned out to be full of lies and I'm not sure when my birthday is.'
'How awkward for you.'
Gemma shrugged a type of weary resignation.
'Would you be offended, Gemma,' Celeste asked carefully, 'if I told you that not many husbands go through life being faithful to their wives?'
Those big brown eyes slanted her way, shocking Celeste with their sudden coldness. 'I don't want to be married to that kind.'
Goodness, Celeste thought admiringly. She's not so softly sweet after all. Damian doesn't know what he's in for if he tries anything with this girl.
Celeste found herself feeling much better about that situation. 'I fully agree with you,' she said drily. 'That's why I've never married. What guest room did Damian put you in?'
'That one,' Gemma indicated, pointing ahead to the third door on the right.
'Have you got everything you need?'
'Yes, thank you.'
'Don't bother to change for dinner. You look delightful in what you're wearing. I'm going to slip into something more casual, however. I'll drop back at the door and collect you on my way downstairs.'
'Miss Campbell,' Gemma called after her as she walked away.
Celeste turned, wincing a little. 'Celeste, please. I keep "Miss Campbell" for junior typists only.'
Gemma smiled, reminding Celeste forcibly of her stunning beauty.
'All right. Celeste. I just wanted to thank you again, and to say that you're not at all like I thought you'd be.'
Celeste smothered an amused smile. 'What did you think I'd be like?'
'I don't know. Not so nice. Oh, that sounds awful!'
'It sounds perfectly reasonable to me. I'm often not very nice, Gemma. But I don't think anyone could help being nice with you.' ,
Gemma looked disconcerted by this compliment. 'I'm not always so nice, either. Maybe I did push Nathan away from me. I. . .I'm not sure of anything any more.' Tears filled her eyes and she looked away.
Celeste was appalled at the sudden pricking of tears behind her own eyes. Good God, she was going all mushy and sentimental in her old age. It was all Byron's fault, raking up old memories, making her say things she should never have said. Or maybe this unexpected vulnerability was because her own daughter would be about Gemma's age now. She might even look a little like her.
Celeste was not a natural blonde, her fair tresses achieved with considerable effort from her hairdresser. Her daughter was sure to be a brunette, like Gemma, and probably with similar brown eyes. Despite Celeste's own eyes being a light yellowish brown, dark eyes did run in the Campbell family. One only had to look at Damian. Since a blue-eyed father with a brown eyed mother almost always produced a brown-eyed baby, Celeste's daughter would most likely have deep brown eyes something like Gemma's.
Celeste swallowed and dragged up a covering smile. 'Don't think about it any more tonight,' she advised the obviously confused and very distressed girl. 'I won't be long. I'm a quick dresser.'
Dinner did not prove to be as difficult as Celeste had begun to fear it might be. Damian was his usual charming self and Gemma, with the help of several glasses of wine, relaxed enough to talk a little about herself in a general sense. She explained how Byron had made her learn Japanese before letting her work in any of his stores, and that she'd become quite competent at it.
'You won't have any trouble getting a job, then,' Celeste said. 'There are openings all over the place if you can speak Japanese well.'
'That's what I'm hoping.'
'We could find her a job at Campbell's, couldn't we, Celeste?' Damian suggested casually.
'Any time,' she offered, and meant it. Gemma would be an asset behind any counter.
'I did originally hope that,' the girl admitted. 'But now I think I should strike out on my own. Maybe I'll move interstate.'
'Why in God's name would you do that?' Damian's voice was sharp.
'Because she wants to be independent, Damian,' Celeste explained somewhat caustically. 'A concept I realize you don't understand.'
'She should be near friends at a time like this.'
Gemma gave him an apologetic look. 'I'm sorry, Damian. You've been marvelous, but I really don't like imposing on you and your sister.'
'What rubbish!' they both answered at once, then simultaneously laughed.
'At least stay a week,' Celeste compromised, knowing decisions should not be made in the heat of the moment.
'Yes, give us a week of your delightful company at least,' Damian insisted.
'Alright.'
Gemma's sigh of acceptance sounded relieved, and Celeste felt another pull on her heartstrings. Damn, in another week she wouldn't want her to go any more than D
amian. Despite the traumas surrounding Gemma's visit, it was surprisingly pleasant having her around. Celeste decided she must definitely be entering a sentimental phase in her life. Next thing she'd be getting herself a dog!
'I hear you're an outback girl,' she said by way of changing the subject.
'That's right. Born and bred in Lightning Ridge.'
'Damned awful place!' Damian scorned. 'Hot as hell and wall-to-wall flies. I only went there once. Celeste had this idea about my learning to become an opal buyer. I soon dissuaded her, didn't I?'
'I think I quickly realized that anything with physical discomfort involved was not your forte.'
Gemma laughed. 'Then you wouldn't have wanted to live where I lived. I not only had wall-to-wall flies but wall-to-wall dirt.'
'How's that?' he asked.
'Dad and I lived in a dugout. You know. A hole in the ground. Well, not in the ground exactly. It was dug out of the side of a hill.'
Damian shuddered. 'You poor thing.'
Gemma shrugged. 'I didn't know any differently. But you can imagine what I thought when I came to Sydney and went to live in Belleview. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.'
'How did that come about, Gemma?' Celeste asked. 'You’re going to live at Belleview, that is? Or don't you like my asking that? You don't have to tell us if you don't want.'
'No, it's all right. I don't mind. My dad died, you see. There'd only been the two of us. My mother- er-my mother had died when I was born. I. . .I decided to come to Sydney to live. To be honest, I never did like the heat and the flies either,' she said with a quick smile Damian's way. 'I decided to sell up everything I inherited to get some money. Not that there was much. Dad was an opal miner, but not a very successful one, I'm afraid. All he had to his name was a battered old truck and a small hoard of second-rate opals. That's why I. .. why I. .. '
Her voice trailed away and Celeste suspected some memory was too painful to talk about, for the girl suddenly dropped her eyes to her food and frowned. When she looked up, she still looked troubled for a second then her expression cleared and she resumed her story.
'Anyway, I went to sell these opals to Byron. He goes up to the Ridge to buy opals all the time.'
'Yes, I know,' Celeste said, and threw Damian a reproachful look. 'Byron really knows his opals. So what happened? I hope he gave you a good deal.'
'Well, no, he didn't. I mean he couldn't, because he wasn't there. He was in hospital after some accident or other and he'd sent Nathan in his place.'
Celeste nodded thoughtfully. That would have been the boating accident when Irene was killed.
'I see,' she murmured.
And she did. Nathan had taken one look at this exquisite creature and had simply had to possess her. 'So what happened then?' she asked, impatient to see how Nathan had achieved his wicked purpose.
'I sold the opals to Nathan instead.'
'Yes, but how did you come to be living at Belleview?'
'Oh, that. Well, when I mentioned to Nathan that I was moving to Sydney, he gave me his business card and said if I ever needed a job to look him up, so I did.'
'And what job did he offer you that required you to live in at Belleview?' Damian asked, sounding sardonic.
Gemma flushed a little at his obvious innuendo. 'It's not what you're thinking. Nathan offered me a position as sales assistant at one of Whitmore's opal shops, but Byron insisted I learn Japanese first, so while I was doing that Nathan hired me as a type of minder for his daughter. Kirsty was staying with him at Belleview for a while, you see. She'd been giving her mother some trouble and Lenore had sent her to her father to straighten her out. Naturally, I-er-had to live in.'
Celeste almost repeated the naturally, but didn't.
She did, however, catch Damian's eye across the table and his expression was similarly cynical. Not that he could cast any stones. She'd like a dollar for every devious line he'd thrown a woman.
'And that's when you both fell in love,' Celeste commented matter-of-factly.
'Yes,' Gemma muttered, looking and sounding miserable again.
'Let's talk about something else,' Damian said firmly. 'Some more wine, Gemma?'
She put her hand over the glass and shook her head. 'Any more and I'll be paralytic.'
'At least you'll sleep well.'
Cora came in then, wanting to know who wanted dessert.
'What is it?' Celeste asked. 'Lemon meringue pie with cream.'
Celeste groaned. 'You bad woman, tempting me like that.'
'You shouldn't worry. You can always punish yourself with twenty laps of the pool afterwards.' Cora began stacking up the dinner plates. 'There are no refusals, I take it?'
'No!' they all chorused.
'Just as well,' the housekeeper said crisply. 'I don't like slaving over a hot stove for nothing.'
'She's so nice,' Gemma remarked once Cora was out of earshot.
Damian grinned a wickedly attractive grin. 'We're all nice, aren't we, Celeste?'
She looked at her brother and wished he weren't so handsome, or so charming. Her earlier confidence that Gemma would be able to resist him worried her anew. Women did stupid things on the rebound. Hadn't she gone from Byron to Stefan thinking she could lose herself in his Viking good looks, his supposedly gentlemanly consideration?
And what had happened?
She'd been drawn into a hell that no woman should have to endure but which many did. Celeste could well understand why battered women eventually struck back and did murder. She wished she had had the courage, or the strength. Then she might have kept her lovely baby.
Instead, she'd had her child stolen from her, had been left bleeding and broken on that cold stone floor. If a passing shepherd hadn't heard her pathetic cries for help, she would be dead now. Instead, she had lived to survive. But had her survival been worth it?
Maybe, she decided, looking at Gemma down the end of the table. She could still be of help to people occasionally. And she could still get pleasure out of life occasionally.
Her mind drifted to Byron and she shuddered. Oh, yes, she could still feel pleasure. But when would the pain stop? When would she be able to forget? ,
Gemma sat on the edge of the bed, holding her temples. She shouldn't have drunk so much of that wine. The blood was pounding in her head and she felt a little nauseous. The wine had made her run off at the mouth a little over dinner as well, something she regretted now.
At least she'd stopped herself before she'd told them all about the Heart of Fire. Irrespective of her breakup with Nathan, Gemma felt she owed some loyalty to the Whitmores. Byron had always been good to her and she was sure he wouldn't like her blurting out Whitmore business to the Campbells. Celeste's buying the Heart of Fire at the ball had clearly annoyed Byron. He'd been reluctant to tell her any real details that night of how the opal had come back into Whitmore possession, so one didn't have to be too bright to conclude he wanted to keep that information a secret.
Gemma wasn't too sure why, but since her own father had clearly been involved in the original theft of the opal she didn't mind not telling all and sundry. Celeste and Damian had already been shocked by her less than genteel upbringing at Lightning Ridge. What would they think if she had revealed her father had not only been a drunk and a loser, but a criminal as well?
Not that Celeste Campbell had any right to judge others, Gemma reasoned quickly. Her reputation was hardly lily-white. And yet ...
Gemma shook her head, frowning. The scandalous lady boss of Campbell Jewels was not at all as Gemma had imagined her to be. Though clearly an assertive and confident businesswoman who Gemma was sure could be very tough given the right occasion, she also had a surprisingly soft and warm side to her character that was very engaging. Gemma had found herself drawn to the woman. She had wanted to pour all her woes out to her, sensing a genuinely sympathetic ear.
But a lifetime of being a very private person with no mother, no brothers or sisters and few friends had made Gemma reluctant t
o open up to people. Not that Celeste Campbell could solve her problems. No one could solve her problems, for there was no solution. She'd fallen in love with the wrong man, had married him, made him her life, and now he'd snatched that life out from under her.
It would be a long, long time before she got over his betrayal. Maybe a lifetime would not be enough.
A tap on the door had her jumping to her feet. Lord, but she was a bundle of nerves.
'Yes?' she asked agitatedly through the door.
'I've brought you a nightcap,' Damian returned. 'I thought you might need one to help you sleep.'