A Forbidden Desire

by Robyn Donald

  Halfway through that it switched to a few minutes of a party that someone had filmed on a camcorder. Jacinta didn’t know anyone until the camera swivelled, and there was Paul. A younger Paul, somehow more—more lightweight than the man she knew. As the camera fixed onto him he smiled, and that smile was heartbreakingly familiar, warm and lazy and sweet.

  He was smiling at the woman beside him. Jacinta drew in an anguished breath as she scrutinised the beautiful, passionate face beneath hair that glowed like burgundy. ‘A dark flame’, Gerard had called her.

  This was Aura, who’d run away with Paul’s best friend.

  Jacinta sat very still while the man who’d been taking the video called out, ‘Smile for me, Aura,’ and, sure enough, the woman smiled.

  Something tore inside Jacinta. How could she even think of comparing herself to such beauty?

  Scarcely knowing what she did, she stopped the video, rewound it to play those fleeting moments over in excruciating detail.

  Aura looked at Paul with loving affection, with pleasure and friendliness, but there was nothing in those wonderful eyes that came close to the feelings Jacinta had for him.

  She was watching the couple turn away from the camera to talk to an elderly woman when a lethal voice said behind her, ‘Turn that bloody thing off.’

  Terror kicking in her stomach, Jacinta twisted. Paul stood just inside the door, his eyes the searing blue at the heart of a diamond, a white line around his mouth.

  The hubbub of the party was cut abruptly short, replaced by the unctuous voice of a television front-man announcing another documentary.

  ‘Turn it off,’ Paul repeated, his voice as cold and violent as an Arctic storm.

  Jacinta had to force herself to press the switch on the remote so that the picture was swallowed up in blackness. Self-protection drove her stiffly to her feet. ‘Did you find the boat?’

  At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but after a taut couple of seconds he said, ‘Yes. Where the hell did you get that video?’

  Refusing to let her hands clench at her side, she said, ‘It’s just a fragment. I was watching a documentary you’d taped, and it appeared between it and the next thing you taped.’ She bit her lip to stop the babbling words.

  ‘I see.’ Leashed by superhuman control, his anger was replaced by a frigid detachment that was even more forbidding. Apparently thinking she needed some sort of explanation, he said, ‘It’s old—over five years old.’

  And he turned. He was, she realised, going to leave it at that.

  She said, ‘It still hurts, doesn’t it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why did you react so aggressively?’

  ‘Jacinta, stop it.’ He sounded tired.

  Oh, God, she wanted to. If she could wipe the impressions of the last ten minutes from her brain she’d do it—and even as the thought was born she knew she lied. There could be no peace for her without the truth. She waited, her eyes fixed on his handsome face.

  ‘I loved her once,’ he said impatiently, frowning. ‘It’s over now—has been for years.’

  ‘If you no longer love her why do you keep up the feud?’

  His eyes narrowed. With silky, unpleasant emphasis he said, ‘Gerard’s been gossiping, has he? There is no feud. Never has been.’

  ‘So you see them regularly? Aura and her husband.’

  Through thin lips he said, ‘No.’

  ‘Because you can’t bear to.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said with calm, snubbing courtesy. ‘I have as little taste as most people for being made to look a fool, so I suppose it’s pride that prevents us from being a cosy, friendly trio.’

  Jacinta looked at him. Not only the intervening five years had made the difference between the man who stood in front of her now and the Paul McAlpine who’d smiled at Aura with such love and confidence. That man had been—softer? No, that was the wrong word.

  Losing the woman had hardened Paul, put an edge to his personality that hadn’t been there before. That inborn strength and assurance had been honed by anger and determination into compelling power and authority. Aura’s betrayal had turned him into a dominating, almost disturbingly formidable man, intensely attractive to women.

  Would Aura have run away with her Flint if she’d truly known this man?

  Jacinta said quietly, ‘I think you’re still in love with her.’

  He took a step towards her, but halted when she braced herself. He swore beneath his breath, a curse she couldn’t quite hear, then she saw him reimpose control, all emotion transmuted by his iron self-discipline into harsh inflexibility.

  ‘That’s quite an assumption to make after seeing a minute of old film,’ he said aloofly, watching her with eyes opaque as blue stones.

  ‘It was your reaction that gave you away.’ Jacinta tested her courage, found it wanting, yet persisted. ‘If you don’t love her then you must hate her.’

  His handsome features were as unrevealing as granite. ‘Far from it,’ he said, his calculated politeness hurting Jacinta more than open anger ever could have. ‘I wish her every happiness.’

  That was when Jacinta accepted that the only thing she could do was leave the homestead and go away and hope that she never saw him again. Even if he told her that he loved her she’d have to go, but he was not, she thought with a trace of bitterness, going to lie to her.

  He couldn’t love another woman because his heart was buried in Aura’s shrine.

  ‘It’s none of my business,’ she said, scarcely knowing what the words were, falling back on conventional phrases because she could never say what she really felt.

  ‘You’re right, it’s not. It’s long over. What are your plans?’

  ‘I’ll go back to Auckland.’

  His gaze flicked past her to the window. ‘Not in this downpour,’ he said.

  Shrugging, she said, ‘I’ll go on the bus. I rang to see if they had a spare seat for this afternoon, and they have. I’ll have to ask someone to take me in to the village, if that’s all right.’

  Speaking slowly, he said, ‘If you stay the night here I’ll take you back tomorrow morning.’

  ‘It will be much easier if I go tonight.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Oddly enough, she hadn’t thought of that. She stared at her hands, laced tightly together in front of her, and tried to think, but the thoughts were lost in a woolly fog. ‘The YWCA,’ she finally blurted when the silence had stretched on too long.

  ‘Have you got everything you own packed into those two suitcases?’

  Pity she could definitely do without. In a tone that matched his for evenness, she said, ‘No, and don’t worry about me, Paul, I’ll be all right. I may have been very naive with Gerard, but I’m actually quite competent at managing my life. I’ll cope.’

  With a twist of his lips, he said brutally, ‘How? You’ve no job—’

  ‘I’ll find one.’

  ‘—and very little money. I will worry about you.’ He paused, then added stiffly, ‘And so will Gerard.’

  Anger kindled in her, fast and lethal as a backblast. Lifting her head, she demanded fiercely, ‘Do you still believe that I’m engaged to him?’

  His expression revealed nothing. ‘I don’t know,’ he said after a prolonged pause. ‘One of you is lying. If Gerard lied it would make him psychologically unstable, and I’ve never seen any evidence of that in him. Whereas I’ve seen a lot of women who consciously or unconsciously look for security in the man they plan to marry. It’s probably inbred in us; men go for beauty, women go for money and status, and I’m sure it’s all for the better perpetuation of the species.’

  She had no answer to the cynical observation, no defences against him.

  He added in a different voice, ‘But I’m not going to just drop you at the YWCA and leave you, so you’d better come up with some sort of address to go to.’

  Rain drove at the windows, and with the sudden intensity of a summer storm overflowed the
gutterings, so that the rest of the world was walled off by a shimmering, liquid tent. To her horror Jacinta’s eyes began to fill; hastily she grabbed her handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose.

  I will not cry, she vowed. I will not...

  Stiffly Paul said, ‘Jacinta, you don’t have to flee to the YWCA as though you’ve been thrown out. I’ll move back to town until you can find a permanent place to go to. I usually spend this time in Auckland anyway; it’s the busiest time of the year because everyone wants every deal settled by Christmas Eve.’

  She shook her head. ‘It’ll be easier on everyone if I go now. This afternoon.’

  Unerringly, he chose the one thing that might change her mind. ‘It won’t be easier on me,’ he said coolly. ‘Be sensible. Shall we make it a week? You should be able to find somewhere to live in that time, and I’ll know you’re safe.’

  ‘I’d be perfectly safe at the YWCA,’ she pointed out desperately.

  ‘They might not have a room,’ he said.

  Clearly he was prepared to argue all day until she gave in. She could just go, but she didn’t want to use Gerard’s car—the thought of driving it down to Auckland made her feel unclean. Someone from Waitapu was going to have to drive her in to catch the bus, and one look at Paul’s implacable face told her she wasn’t going to get any cooperation from him.

  Jacinta gave in. ‘All right,’ she said, because she was exhausted and he was right; a week would give her a chance to find a new home.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I want your promise that you won’t run away the moment I get out of the gate.’

  She flushed and kept her eyes averted. ‘Why should you believe my promise?’ she asked. ‘You won’t believe anything else I tell you.’

  ‘Ah, but you keep promises,’ he said smoothly. ‘You told me so once.’

  She flinched. ‘I’m supposed to be engaged to Gerard,’ she retorted snidely. ‘That’s a promise too.’

  ‘If you don’t give me your word I’ll just have to immobilise his car and let everyone here know that you are not to be let out of the gate until I get back,’ he said.

  It was so outrageous a statement that she stared at him. The blue eyes were darkly shadowed by his lashes, but there was no amusement in his voice or the grim line of his mouth. He looked like someone about to go into battle—a warrior determined to win, steel-honed with implacable purpose.

  He meant it.

  ‘Make me a prisoner?’ she asked, tight-lipped.

  ‘If I have to.’ His tone gave no quarter.

  Jacinta loved him. She had just spent the night making love with him. She would remember him all her life.

  But at that moment she could have happily strangled him. Very steadily she said, ‘Threats have a way of rebounding on the people who issue them. However, you don’t need to make any more. I’ll stay here until I find a place to go to.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He turned, then stopped. Tonelessly he said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘For last night.’

  Jacinta had always thought herself placid and even-tempered, but before he could say any more she interrupted rapidly, ‘I’m not. I enjoyed it immensely. And although you don’t believe me, there was no reason why we shouldn’t have made love. We both wanted it, and neither of us is responsible for any plans Gerard may have made, or his attempts to manipulate us.’

  He didn’t answer directly. Instead he said, ‘I’m away for the afternoon and won’t be back until late, so unless you’re up when I leave tomorrow morning, I’ll see you in a week’s time.’

  She refused to watch him go out of the room, refused to think of anything but the necessity of getting a place to live in. Outside the rain stopped and the sun came out, summoning steam from the paths as it set about drying up the downpour.

  When she heard the car leave she went down the hall and into her bedroom. Thank God they had slept together in his bed. This one held no memories.

  After a while she fought back the debilitating listlessness she recognised as grief and forced herself into the morning room, where once more she scanned the classified advertisements in the newspaper. This time there would be no decision to stay at Waitapu, no stupid conviction that she could deal easily with the results of her actions.

  First she needed somewhere to stay for the next few nights while she found a place to live. A friend in a fla in Grey Lynn wouldn’t mind if she dossed down there for a week or so. Then she had to find a job, otherwise she’d soon use up the small amount of money she’d have in the bank after she’d repaid Gerard. She looked on the calendar and worked out just how much she owed him.

  All right, she told her skipping, racing heart, don’t have a panic attack Calm down. Do this thing in logical steps.

  A bed, then a job. That shouldn’t be too difficult; she was a good waitress, she could serve behind a fast food counter, or she could work in an old people’s home.

  Fear kicked her in the stomach. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life working in takeaway shops or waitressing, but what on earth was she to do? A history degree was utterly useless on the job market.

  Logic, she reminded herself.

  Until she got settled she wouldn’t think about the lies Gerard had told, or his reason for telling them.

  At least the need to leave Waitapu, the necessity of organising that departure, gave her something to think about and stopped her from giving in to the intense desolation that lay behind the barriers of her will like a howling wasteland.

  After a couple of deep breaths she read slowly and carefully through the ‘Flatmates Wanted’ section. Her heart lifted slightly when she saw that there were still plenty. Having scribbled likely looking numbers down, she turned to the ‘Situations Vacant’ columns.

  Ten minutes later she set the newspaper aside and got up. So close to Christmas very few firms wanted new employees. And what there was wasn’t exactly interesting.

  ‘To hell with interesting,’ she muttered. ‘I need to earn a living. Interest can come later.’

  She went across to the telephone and began to dial.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AFTER she’d written down ads and phone numbers to contact in Auckland, Jacinta went back to her room, took out her bank statement and worked out exactly how much money she’d have after she’d repaid Gerard every cent she owed him. It wasn’t much, but she’d be able to manage.

  She’d have to manage.

  Then she wrote a cheque and put it in an envelope on which she wrote his name in big black letters. She’d leave it in her room when she left—Paul would make sure that his cousin got it.

  Filled with a desperate need to escape, she told Fran she’d be on the beach, and set off to walk as far and as fast as she could.

  Just before dinner, hot and tired, she came back towards the house, watching dotterels bob up and down in avian courtesy, then flow across the sand like silk. These ones were in breeding plumage; no doubt—like the penguins who’d taken over the bach, thereby exposing Jacinta to greater danger than she’d ever envisaged—they had nests nearby.

  Warned by some instinct, she looked away from the shiny expanse of sand and saw Paul walk through the barrier of the pohutukawas, his head gleaming like red gold in the sun.

  Her heart jumped; she’d never believed that making love could join people in any way other than the purely temporary, but for the rest of her life she’d be living on the memory of the previous night. Oh, she’d get over him, she might even fall in love again, but it would be vastly different from this incandescent emotion.

  It was cruel of him to come back while she was still awake, she thought while her treacherous heart rejoiced.

  ‘You’re back early,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why be sorry? This is your home.’ The dotterels bowed, and bowed again, then continued their swift gliding across the beach, smooth as skaters. ‘Anyway, you won’t have to stay in Auckland now if you don’t w
ant to I’ve found a place to live.’

  ‘Where?’

  Surprised at the note of aggression in his voice, she returned coolly, ‘In Grey Lynn. It’s a mixed flat—two men and three women. It sounds very nice.’

  ‘I see. You haven’t met them?’

  Her brain spun. Finally she said, ‘As it happens, yes. One of the women took the same papers as I did, and during the year we got quite friendly.’ Nadia was in South-land for the holidays, but one of her flatmates had rung her and she’d given Jacinta permission to use her bed for as long as she liked

  ‘When are you going?’ he asked flatly.

  ‘I’ll catch the bus tomorrow morning.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m going down so you might as well come with me.’ And before she had time to object he looked past her to the expanse of shining beach, and the small birds going about their age-old ritual. ‘I’ll have to tell Gerard what happened.’

  ‘Why?’

  She could hear his shrug in his voice. ‘He should know.’

  ‘So that he can hate you?’ she said quietly, knowing she wouldn’t make any difference. ‘You haven’t betrayed him.’

  There was silence before he said, ‘That’s a simplistic attitude. Even if what you say is true, and there is nothing between you, he told me there was because he wanted me to keep away from you. I didn’t.’

  ‘So you’ll purge a guilt that isn’t necessary by ruining your relationship with your cousin.’

  He said nothing. Austere, self-sufficient, he looked out to sea, the stark lines of his profile set in iron.

  Maddened by her total lack of influence over him, by her helplessness, Jacinta went on, ‘I don’t understand why he told such lies. Especially as he must know that sooner or later I’d find out. And if he thought that putting me into debt would make me sleep with him—well, he’s a throwback to the nineteenth century.’ Each word had a bitter, jagged bite to it; she took a moment to compose herself before adding curtly, ‘The days are long gone when women could be blackmailed into marriage.’