The Australian Heiress (11 page)

Incredibly the woman laughed. “I don’t regret it, Harry Guilford’s daughter. It felt good.”

A policeman on a motorbike entered the grounds to act as escort for the ambulance that was on its way, evidenced by the siren wail growing louder and louder. Sick to her stomach, Camille moved back to where Nick Lombard lay slumped on the ground.

“How badly is he hurt?” she asked the doctor, barely above a whisper.

The doctor grunted and shook his head. “I’d say a rib deflected the worst of the blow. He’ll need stitching and watching for internal bleeding.” He looked at her. “Sit down, lassie, and put your head between your knees.”

He urged her to a nearby chair, but as he did so,
she felt a swirling darkness. She fought it, but suddenly it was overwhelming. With an uncertain little cry, she crumpled to the ground.

When she came to, she was staring into a paramedic’s eyes. Tommy was there, his familiar face looking much older, deeply drawn. Although she kept protesting she was all right, no one appeared convinced. In the end she was taken in the same ambulance as Nick Lombard, who was slipping in and out of consciousness. When they arrived at the hospital, he was wheeled away swiftly and Camille was directed to a cubicle where she was told to lie down until a doctor arrived to make an assessment.

Tommy, who had followed the ambulance and was a long way from his unflappable self, demanded to know to what room Camille had been taken. It wasn’t until sometime later she was able to reassure him and change into the fresh clothing he’d brought for her. The police, too, had arrived at the hospital, waiting quietly for her to make a statement. Nick Lombard was to be admitted. He was expected to give his statement later in the day.

Camille insisted on remaining at the hospital until she was allowed to see the man who’d saved her life. He had been given a private room with a policeman stationed at the door. When Camille entered, she found him fully conscious and propped up on pillows. His powerful torso was bare except for the bandages that wrapped it. His color was better, and at her entry he gave her a faint smile.

“Why should you look like a spray of apple blossom after what you’ve been through?” he asked.

Even on such a day dangerous desire stirred.

She glanced down a little apologetically at her pink dress. “Dot sent it along for me. The other one is ruined.”

“Are you going to sit down?”

“Just for a moment.” She realized her heart was hammering. Perhaps it would always hammer when she was near him. “How do you feel?’ she asked solicitously.

“A lot better. Having the lung deflate was the worst part. The actual wound only seemed like a gigantic bee sting.”

“You’re going to feel it just the same.” She sat facing him, her hands clasped. “When the painkillers wear off.”

“You want me to feel pain?” His voice held a certain mockery.

She shook her head. “No, of course not. I was regretting it. You saved my life.”

“It can’t be much help to you when you’re determined to hate me.”

She met his brilliant eyes. “I never had much choice, but hatred is not paramount in my mind now. You could have been killed.”

“I doubt it.” He gave one of his shrugs, then winced. “She fought like a tigress. I see now what mania can do. But ultimately her strength wasn’t enough.”

“What will they do with her?” Camille asked quietly.

“She’ll be given a psychiatric assessment to determine her state of mind at the time of the attack. If she’s committed, it won’t go to trial.”

“Do you know her?” Camille asked. “Have you found out anything about her?”

Lombard lifted a hand and raked it through his thick raven hair. “Apparently her name is Gray. The husband was Gerald Gray. The name doesn’t mean a thing to me.”

“Just another one of my father’s creditors,” Camille said in a somber voice. “Another one he destroyed.”

“There’s no law of God or man that says she’s allowed to exact her vengeance on you,” Lombard answered harshly. “You wouldn’t have stood a chance against her.”

“No. How extraordinary you had that premonition.”

“Perhaps it’s to be expected,” he said in an ironic tone. “I’m not the first man in my family to have been addicted to a dangerous woman.”

“Except
I’m
not dangerous at all.”

“It’s pretty clear you are.” He held her gaze until she had to look away.

“Shall I call around to see Melissa?” she asked quickly.

“She’d like that, but I’d rather you take yourself off home and rest. The shock you’ve had will reassert itself. Browning’s with you?”

“Yes.”

“I imagined he would be. He loves you like a daughter. I’ve already sent a message that Melissa is not to be told what happened. I’ll tell her myself when I get home. I’m hoping to be discharged sometime tomorrow, all being well.”

“I’ll come for you,” Camille offered spontaneously.

“Not necessary. I have a chauffeur, you know.”

“I want to. It seems right.”

“Then I’m not complaining.” He smiled.

A nurse appeared silently at the door, her manner indicating it was time to leave.

Camille rose immediately. The nurse nodded while Camille stood motionless gazing down into his night black eyes. “I’ll go now,” she murmured, “but I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I won’t object to a kiss goodbye.” He looked at her with charming mockery. “A simple thank-you.”

Her lips touched his cheek. “Satisfied?”

“Not particularly, no. I need something that will leave no trace of the morning.”

“Could that be possible?” She shuddered.

“I think so.” He reached up with one hand and drew her down until her face was inches above his. “Extreme events call forth extreme actions, Camille. Whether you like it or not, you’re in my life.”

She only had time to emit a soft sigh before his mouth moved over, hers, filling her sweetly, sadly with longing. It was a quiet kiss, unforced, but at its core was passion.

When he released her, she realized with a painful lurch of her heart that here was a man who could possess her, body and mind. Her father would not have understood it. She didn’t understand it herself.

C
AMILLE WAS
in the hospital lobby waiting for Tommy to bring the car around when Clare Tennant
rushed through the front door. Her eyes fell on Camille with an expression of outrage.

“Where is he? Where have they taken him?”

“You’ll have to check, Mrs. Tennant.” Camille wasn’t about to tell her. “It wasn’t as bad as we feared.”

The woman looked stunned by Camille’s calmness. “I’ve never been so shocked in my life. I must know his true condition. Nick and I are the greatest friends, yet I wasn’t allowed anywhere near him.”

“Too much was happening, Mrs. Tennant. I’m sorry.”

“As well you might be.” Her skin blanched. “I hope you realize now how very much your father was hated. In fact, if I were you, I’d go overseas until all the furor dies down.”

Camille’s eyes began to spark. She felt a little stronger. “Well, you’re not me, Mrs. Tennant, and there’s not much chance of my doing that.”

“You’re after Nick,” Clare Tennant moved closer.

“Don’t be absurd. I’ve never wanted anything to do with him.”

“But all that’s changed. Nick’s every woman’s dream. He’s rich, handsome, powerful, exciting. I know women who’d marry him for his smile alone.”

Camille flushed. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. And
now.”

Clare Tennant’s voice was curt. “It’s a lot sooner than I expected. But absolutely nothing is going to plan. I’ll put my cards on the table, Miss Guilford— I’m warning you off.”

Camille looked down at Clare Tennant’s red-tipped
fingers clutching her arm. “Would you mind removing your hand?”

“It’s true. You
know
it is,” Clare Tennant insisted. “You’re seriously attracted to him. Maybe it was never what you intended, but it happened.” Her blue-gray eyes were flinty. “Stay away from Nick. He’s mine.”

W
HEN
C
AMILLE ARRIVED
home, Linda was waiting for her, aghast at the news, which apparently had traveled like wildfire. They sat on the balcony off Camille’s bedroom looking out at the blue harbor dotted with all manner of pleasure craft and sailing yachts.

Everything seemed so peaceful, idyllic, yet Camille had the feeling nothing would ever be the same again.

“To think Stephen and I were arguing over some blessed barbecue when your life was in danger.” Linda sipped at the cold orange drink Dot had brought her. “In a long chapter of shocks, this is the worst Thank God for Nick Lombard. It could have been a tragedy.”

“It very nearly was,” Camille said. “I owe him my life.”

“It makes one believe in a predetermined fate, doesn’t it? Fate has thrown you two together. I have to say I think he’s perfect for the part of hero.”

“Only, I can’t adjust to that so quickly. I’d have to rethink my whole attitude toward him. Not easy, Lindy. Harry was my father. Nick Lombard started the avalanche.”

“If not Nick Lombard, someone else would have, Milly. It has to be faced.”

“Not now. It’s too soon. I’m carrying too much
emotional freight. He tells me there’s a connection going back a generation.”

Linda turned her head sharply. “In what way?”

“It might be best if I show you.” Camille walked back into her bedroom to get the album. She’d been drawn to place it beside her mother’s rosewood jewel box, an item of great sentimental value to her. She returned to the balcony and handed the album to Linda. “I have to return this to Nick Lombard.”

“It looks very old.” Linda shot her a look, fingering the leather-bound album almost apprehensively.
“And
a coat of arms?”

“The Italian side of Nick Lombard’s family.”

“I don’t know why exactly, but this seems scary.”

“It is.” Camille had experienced the same sensation. She sat in silence while Linda turned page after page until she came to the first of the photographs of Natalie and Hugo Vandenberg.

“Milly!” Linda was dumbfounded. “This could be
you
.”

Camille nodded, feeling a pang of sadness. “The resemblance is very strong.”

“It’s more than that. It’s uncanny. And the young man beside your mother? Judging from his body language, I’d say he’s madly in love with her.”

“It leaps out of the frame, doesn’t it? That’s Hugo Vandenberg, Nick Lombard’s uncle. They were to have been married, only my mother met Harry at a function they all attended. He swept her off her feet.”

“What extraordinarily bad karma! Hugo must have been devastated.”

“It gets worse,” Camille warned.

“Bad enough she left him for your father,” Linda said. “Your father had such a…”

“Cruel nature?” She needed to face it.

“My heart aches for you, Milly.” Linda turned back to the album. “This Hugo has a lovely smile. I remember catching Nick Lombard’s smile at the art showing. It touches every part of his face, lights it up. But why all the secrecy?”

Camille shrugged. “Harry never, but never, spoke of the past. He never allowed anyone else to speak of it, either. As far as I can remember, my mother and father were passionately in love. He would hardly let her out of his sight.”

“Or he was passionately possessive. Women as beautiful as your mother never live without incident So what’s the rest? You have to tell me.”

“I don’t know that I should. It’s been an unhappy time for you of late.”

Linda brushed that away. “If it will help you to talk, Milly, that’s all that matters.”

“All right, then.” Camille sighed. “Hugo Vandenberg chose the day of my mother’s funeral to end his own life.”

Linda looked staggered. “But that’s frightful!”

Camille nodded. “The repercussions are still being felt.”

Linda leaned closer and patted Camille’s hand. “At least we know the reason for the terrible enmity between Nick Lombard and Harry.”

Camille was silent for a time, gazing down at a garden bed ablaze with scarlet roses. Red for passion. Red for blood. “I’d tell this to no one else but you, Lindy.”

Her voice was so muted Linda had to lean forward to hear. She regarded her friend with gentle questioning eyes.

“My mother was pregnant when she died. The child she was carrying wasn’t my father’s. It was Hugo Vandenberg’s.”

Linda didn’t even attempt to control the pitch of her voice. “Nick Lombard told you this?”

Camille nodded.

“But how does he know? How
could
he know?”

“Presumably Hugo told his family. They were terribly worried by the whole situation. My mother needed Hugo for support. She must have realized her mistake quite early in her marriage. She renewed their friendship, relationship—oh, God, love affair. You know the result.”

Linda slumped back, rubbing her forehead. “Given your father’s nature, he’d have killed her had he known.”

Camille turned, an agonized look in her eyes. “No, Lindy, no!”

Linda said nothing.

“You surely can’t believe that!”

When Linda did speak, her voice was strained. “Milly, you must know he was capable of it.”

Camille couldn’t bring herself to reply. At last Linda said, “I want you to stay with us until you find somewhere to live.”

Camille shook her head. “Thanks, love, but I don’t want to be the one in the middle right now.”

“I can’t say I blame you.” Linda sat back and closed her eyes. “Stephen seems like a stranger these days.”

“It’s still bad, then?” Camille asked.

“It’s as though overnight we’re set on different paths. Everything was OK while I was doing what Stephen wanted. In the nicest possible way I was losing my independence. I see that now. If anything went wrong, it was
my
behavior,
my
attitude, that was questioned. Stephen sees his family differently. That’s natural, I suppose, but surely his first allegiance is to me, don’t you think?”

Camille nodded, “Of course it is.”

“Well, his mother has somehow planted in his head it was my fault I lost the baby, that in some way I
deserved
to lose it.”

“And you still don’t want Stephen to touch you?” Camille watched her friend’s face. Linda had told her that, ever since the miscarriage, she’d been turned off sex.

“It’s
my
body, Milly. I want it to myself for a while. Part of the sexual turn-on for Stephen was the littlegirl thing I’ve done. The amenable little creature who needed his touch to blossom.”

“It
was
that way,” Camille felt compelled to say.

“But it didn’t
last.
I don’t want it like that anymore. I’ve grown up. I’m a woman who’s been dealt a deep psychological blow. It shattered me inside. I don’t feel Stephen respects my grief. He doesn’t really know how much I’m hurting.”

“You’re still seeing Max Courtney, aren’t you?” Camille referred to Linda’s psychiatrist

Linda nodded a little awkwardly.

“Why not take Stephen along?”

“He won’t go,” Linda said bleakly. “Dr. Courtney
suggested it, but Stephen refused point-blank. In his own words, ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’”

“It’s a pity he’s taken that view. It would be better for the two of you to talk the whole thing through.”

“Yes, but according to Stephen,
I’m
the one with the problems, not him. He thinks I’m going out of my way to offend his family. God, I’m beginning to wonder if I ever really knew him.”

Camille couldn’t help but think back to her own broken engagement to Philip. “Lindy, even good marriages have trouble spots,” she said. “You’ve been very sad and withdrawn—with good reason. Maybe Stephen doesn’t think you need him anymore. He’s that kind of man, isn’t he?”

Linda gave a brittle laugh. “Sure he is. He’ll take care of me as long as I know the law.
His
law. He’s actually arranged a barbecue for tonight. The whole family. It’s supposed to be a get-together to patch up our little differences.”

“You didn’t agree to it?”

“I wasn’t told about it until this morning. It’s Stephen trying to make things right, but he’s going about it the wrong way. I’ll never be his family’s favorite person. I’ll never be one of them. That’s just the way it is. I’m
not
obeying Stephen’s wishes tonight.”

This was said so vehemently Camille gulped. “You won’t be there?”

“No. I’ve got a couple of the latest videos in the car. I thought you and I could watch them, instead, over a nice pizza and a glass of red wine.”

“Won’t that cause trouble?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“You know I’ll share the blame.”

“You can hold up, can’t you, Camille?”

“Sure I can,” Camille said simply. “We can talk our heads off like we did in the old days.”

“I’d die without you, Milly,” Linda said. “You’ve been such a good friend! I just wish I could be more like you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t
I
make a mess of my life? I got involved with Philip.
You
recognized what he was long before I did. What’s so smart about me? You have to be yourself, Lindy, once and for all. Or the
new
you. Maybe you need a whole year of doing something, interesting. You need time to help you heal.”

W
HEN
C
AMILLE ARRIVED
at the hospital the next day, she found Nick Lombard dressed and waiting. He stood at the window, his back to the door. She called out a greeting, feeling a powerful sense of relief at the sight of him. Even from behind he projected an aura of power.

He turned at her voice and let his eyes feast on her. Today she was wearing a sleeveless dress in yellow silk, a perfect foil for her skin and her fiery hair. She looked stunning, as always.

His thoughts suddenly darkened. A man needed to be wary of such beauty. Beauty inspired fear, as well as adoration. Beauty had brought his uncle, his childhood hero, to a ghastly end. Terrible images filled his mind. As chance had it, on that fateful day, he’d been the one to find his uncle, lifeless, slumped over his desk, a bullet through his splendid head. A dreadful unforgettable sight. His grandmother, so sprightly, so full of wit and charm, had overnight turned to stone.

Camille who’d been in the act of moving into the room, came to an abrupt halt. “Everything all right?” She felt daunted by his expression.

“I’m fine.” He smiled and instantly the severity was replaced by a totally disarming sweetness.

“What was going through your mind just then?” she asked.

“Not anything we should talk about.” He picked up his jacket, moved toward her. “It’s very kind of you to come for me.” He reached out to touch a strand of her hair.

“It’s nothing,” she insisted. “If it hadn’t been for you, yesterday might have been my last.”

“Don’t even think about it.” He gestured for her to precede him. “Amazingly you look none the worse for the experience.”

“I had my friend Linda over. We talked it out.”

“Linda of the doe eyes?”

“That’s the one.” Camille smiled. “I love her like a sister. Now, can we go? You have the all clear?”

“Nurse informed me I’m an excellent healer. They’d like to keep me here another day, but there’s no internal bleeding, which was what they were looking for. I’ll have a word with her and we can be on our way. I’m anxious to get home to Melissa.”

“She knows nothing about it?”

“No. I gave orders to the staff. She wasn’t to watch the television, either. Unfortunately it made the news.”

Camille nodded. “I know. You’ll have to break it to her gently. Even then she’ll be shocked.”

“Seeing us both will soften the blow.”

The reality, however, fell abysmally short.

Even from outside the front door they could hear Melissa screaming.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch! You’re mean and you’re ugly!”

“Come back here immediately!” a woman’s voice shouted. Miss Larkins, not precisely in control.

“Dear God!” Nick took off up the stairs. A man who should still be in hospital, Camille thought.

When they were in the entrance hall, their eyes fell on a frozen tableau. Miss Larkins was bent over Melissa, seemingly in the act of shaking her. Clare Tennant stood to one side, a strained expression on her perfectly painted face.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Melissa screeched, breaking away from Miss Larkins and racing toward him. “I thought you’d been stabbed. I thought you were dead.” She gave vent to great hiccuping sobs.

Nick Lombard stopped her flight with one arm. “Hush, baby, hush. There’s nothing wrong with me. Can’t you see that?”

“Clare said it was all Camille’s fault.” Melissa looked at Camille with great accusing eyes.

“That’s not true,” her father told her firmly. “Not true at all.”

Both Miss Larkins and Clare Tennant began talking one hundred to the dozen until Miss Larkins, remembering her position in the household, abruptly broke off.

“We simply didn’t realize Melissa was there,” Clare Tennant explained. “Nanny and I were talking confidentially. Melissa crept up on us. She’s inclined to do that. Unfortunately she overheard what she shouldn’t. We’ve been agonizing about it ever since.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Lombard.” Miss Larkins all but wrung her hands. “We never thought for a moment Melissa was within earshot, although she does have a habit of eavesdropping.”

“In which case you might have made doubly sure she wasn’t around,” Nick Lombard rasped.

“Don’t be angry with us, Nick,” Clare Tennant pleaded. “It was the very last thing we intended to happen. I’ve been worried out of my mind about you. Nanny was only offering comfort.”

“And when did all this happen?” he demanded, the harsh note still in his voice.

“Barely twenty minutes ago,” Clare said. “Naturally it was all kept from Melissa according to your instructions. Nanny and I were simply having a private conversation. It’s been on the TV and all over the papers, Nick. People can scarcely talk of anything else. You’ll have to get someone in to field all the phone calls. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing.”

“If the lady didn’t stab you, what happened, Daddy?” Melissa asked in a high frightened voice.