Scandals And Secrets

She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand how it was.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, I understand only too well. We’re all tarred with the same brush. Irene... You... Me... We take after dear Papa, which makes us not good people to cross. We want what we want and God help anyone who gets in our way. You and Irene wanted the same man. A cat fight was inevitable, but the only one who came out on top was Byron. Literally.’

‘You’re disgusting!’

‘That’s the pot calling the kettle black, surely.’

‘It wasn’t like Irene said. I didn’t set out to seduce Byron. I didn’t set out to do anything!’ Anger that she was having to defend her morals to Damian, of all people, had her whirling away and dragging on the towelling robe that she’d brought with her. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she turned back to face her brother with a steely expression on her face. ‘I do not wish to discuss what happened with Byron in the past. It’s dead and gone as Irene is dead and gone.’

‘Really, Celeste? Are you saying you don’t feel a thing for Byron any more, that he hasn’t been your silent sexual prey all along?’

Outrage at both Damian and her own stupid feelings rose in her breast. ‘I detest Byron Whitmore!’ she lashed out. ‘I wouldn’t let him touch me if he was the last man on earth!’

‘No kidding. Then it won’t bother you that he’s about to be married again.’

Celeste could no more stop the blood from leaving her face than she could the daggers of dismay that stabbed into her heart. She clutched the robe around her and did her level best not to sway on her feet, or look anything other than coldly indifferent. With a supreme effort of will, she somehow found a wry smile and a semblance of composure. ‘Is that so?’ she drawled. ‘And who’s the unlucky lady?’

Damian seemed disconcerted by her quick recovery. Clearly, he’d wanted to distress her, wanted to twist those daggers. His black eyes were still watchful on her, waiting for her to betray her feelings, but this only hardened Celeste’s resolve to keep them to herself. If she was stupid enough still to feel anything for that holier-than-thou hypocrite, then the last thing she was going to do was show it or admit it. That would betray everything that had sustained her all these years.

‘Her name is Catherine Gateshead,’ Damian informed her sourly.

‘And how did you come across this priceless information?’ Celeste thought her tone was perfect. Just a little sarcastic, and a lot bored.

‘A friend of hers told a friend of mine they were going to announce their engagement at Byron’s fiftieth birthday party last night. It seems they’ve been quite a hot item for quite some time.’

Celeste battled to control a whole host of reactions, not the least of which was shock at hearing Byron’s age. Fifty! He didn’t look fifty. Clearly, he wasn’t acting as though he was fifty, either, she thought bitterly. Still, he’d always been a highly sexed man and Irene had been dead for nearly a year.

‘And how old is this Catherine person?’ she asked as nonchalantly as she could manage.

Damian’s smirk suggested he’d picked up on her tension. ‘A good few years younger than you, dear sister. And smashing-looking, I’m told.’

Celeste threw her brother a savage look and he laughed.

‘Jealousy can be an ugly thing. Not that you’ve got anything to worry about, Celeste. No woman can hold a candle to you when you put your mind to it. I’ll never forget the look on that bastard Whitmore’s face when you swanned into the Regency ballroom recently in that dress. God, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Not that I blame him. That was some dress.’

Celeste cringed at the memory of the aforesaid dress. She hadn’t realised, till she was making her way down the centre of the ballroom and caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrored walls, how that dress looked from a distance. The skin-coloured material and tightly fitted style gave the illusion of nudity, the selected beading marking out a provocative outline around her nipples and crotch. Up close in the boutique, it had not looked so scandalously revealing. Still, under Byron’s critical gaze, she’d had no alternative but to carry off the outrageous outfit with panache or be left looking a fool.

‘It was perfectly obvious to anyone with a brain in their head,’ Damian was raving on, ‘that you’ve only got to click your fingers his way and he’d drop Catherine Whatsername as though she has a contagious disease. Alternatively, you could have some real fun and wait till he married the silly bitch, then move in for the ultimate kill. A married Byron seems to bring out your best hunting instincts.’

Celeste amazed herself by not reacting visibly to Damian’s crude and inflammatory remarks. Her expression remained remarkably cool, as was her laugh. ‘I think you’re confusing me with yourself, brother dear. You’re the one who’s always running after married people. I prefer my bed partners both single and decidedly younger than fifty. I don’t think Byron Whitmore fills the bill, do you?’

Retying the sash on her robe, Celeste picked up her towel and pushed past her brother, striding confidently towards the door. Damian scowled after her, irritated by his lack of success at stirring up trouble. What he didn’t see was the grey pallor in his sister’s face as she left the pool-house, or the haunted look in her eyes. Neither could he guess at the storm of emotion gathering in her heart, nor her lack of confidence in her ability to deal with any of it.

Celeste headed across the lawns and up the stone steps to the back of the house, blinking madly as she went. I do not care about Byron Whitmore, she kept saying to herself. I do not care what he does or where he goes or whom he marries. I do not care!

Celeste swept into the huge kitchen and put on the kettle for a cup of coffee. By the time she was sipping its soothing warmth, she was almost her old self again.

Till she suddenly remembered the trial on Monday.

Her head dropped into her hands, her stomach instantly churning.

‘Oh, God...’

CHAPTER TWO

THE taxi sped off, leaving Gemma standing on the pavement with her suitcase at her feet. She was smiling to herself.

Nathan was going to get the shock of his life when she walked in. He thought she was out in good old Lightning Ridge, patiently awaiting the Monday afternoon flight back to Sydney. Instead, here she was, home a day early, the lucky passenger on a private jet chartered by an American couple staying at her motel.

The McFaddens had dropped in on the opal-mining town as part of a whirlwind tour of the outback of Australia, and, not finding the dust, flies and heat to their liking, had decided to head for Sydney posthaste. When Gemma had told them over breakfast this morning in the dining-room that she wished she were back home in Sydney as well, they’d offered her a lift. Delighted, she’d accepted, and here she was!

A glance at her watch showed it had only just passed one in the afternoon.

For a few seconds, she regretted that her trip back to Lightning Ridge had been so unrewarding in the matter of finding anything out about her missing mother. Perhaps she should have stayed the extra day and come back on the Monday as originally planned.

In all honesty, she hadn’t tried all that hard, had she? One short interview with Mr Gunther—her dead father’s only friend in Lightning Ridge—and one afternoon spent talking to the miners who’d just happened to drop into the pub. Neither would qualify as an in-depth investigation. Was it that underneath she was afraid of the truth? Or of finding out that Nathan was right? Some people’s pasts were better off left there.

Still, the trip back to where she’d grown up had made Gemma appreciate the life she had made for herself now in Sydney. She had an interesting job selling opals to an exclusive clientele in Whitmore’s glamorous store in the Regency Hotel. She was married to Sydney’s most successful playwright who also just happened to be the most handsome, sexiest man who’d ever drawn breath. And soon she was going to start having the family she’d always wanted.

Her big brown eyes melted as she thought of her husband, and their phone conversation last Friday night. That had been less than two days ago, but it seemed like an eternity. She’d done exactly as he’d suggested and thrown away her pills. Then she’d done the second thing he’d wanted: come home.

Smiling a very female smile, she extracted her keys from her carry-all handbag, picked up her suitcase and walked over to the security door of the four-storey building that housed their apartment. On the top floor, their unit had a lovely view of Elizabeth Bay and, while Gemma called it home for now, she knew she wouldn’t want to bring up a child, or children, in such a contained and restricted environment. She would want a house and a big back yard with a dog in it, a dog she would call Blue.

Gemma’s heart squeezed tight as she thought of that moment out at the Ridge yesterday when she’d visited Blue’s grave. He was buried not far from the dugout she’d been brought up in, on a small hillock he used to lie on sometimes. She hadn’t been able to stop the sudden welling-up of emotion nor the flood of tears that had streamed from her eyes. Now, as she turned the key and let herself into the building, she felt those tears pricking at her eyes again.

She would have brought Blue to Sydney with her if she’d had the chance. But some rotten swine had poisoned him while she’d been at her father’s funeral. She’d been shattered when she found his body, seemingly more upset over her dog’s death than her father’s.

Gemma felt a stab of guilt at that memory, frowning as she carried her case inside the cool foyer and shut the door behind her. Going back to Lightning Ridge had dredged up memories she would rather have forgotten. Yes, Nathan was right. One’s happiness lay in the future, not the past. Her future and her happiness lay in her marriage to Nathan, in their having a family together.

A determined expression momentarily thinned Gemma’s full mouth. If Nathan thought she was going to stop at one baby, he was very much mistaken. She’d hated not having any brothers and sisters, hated not having a mother and a father. No child of hers was going to go through life feeling deprived and different, as she had done. Her children would have every advantage she could give them.

Gemma’s mouth suddenly relaxed into a quietly rueful smile.

Just look at me, getting all carried away and serious. Thinking too far ahead was as bad as spending all one’s energy worrying about the past. My first priority is being happy here and now—and in getting pregnant with my first baby. Still, if Nathan’s mood on the phone the other night was anything to go by then the latter shouldn’t take too long.

Gemma hurried over to press the lift button on the wall, her heart racing excitedly as she thought of what was in store for her upstairs.

The lift doors whooshed back and she stepped inside the empty compartment, pressing number four and waiting impatiently for them to shut again.

Actually, she and Nathan hadn’t made love for ages. Not that Nathan hadn’t wanted to. He always wanted to. But some recent and rather shocking allegations about Nathan’s sexual history had played on her mind, and she’d begun making excuses not to make love with her husband. Even after being assured by an independent source that the most shocking of these allegations was untrue, she’d still found herself acting very negatively in the bedroom. Nathan had been remarkably patient with her, and she aimed to reward that patience in full tonight.

Maybe I’ll fall pregnant straight away, Gemma thought excitedly as the doors shut and the lift began to rise.

Probably not, she conceded, but it felt wonderfully warming to think about the possibility. It would give added meaning to what had previously been little more than a physical intimacy between them. Gemma held high hopes that having a baby together would bring about the emotional bonding with Nathan that she’d always felt was missing in their relationship.

With spirits high and pulse galloping, she stepped out of the lift on the fourth floor, eager to have her husband’s arms around her, to have him kiss her as he’d kissed her at the airport the other day. Too bad if he was deeply involved with his writing. She was going to insist he leave it and give her his full attention. No doubt he would be holed up in his study, his handsome face buried in the computer screen. But nothing was going to save him from being seduced today. Nothing!

Gemma’s grin faded to a frown as she opened their apartment door. Nathan’s raised voice was coming through the closed double doors that led into the living-room, sounding so impassioned that Gemma was shocked into stillness, her hand on the doorknob, her case still in the hallway outside. His next words came crystal-clear to her startled ears, and their content staggered her.