The Australian Heiress (19 page)

“You’re all cooped up?”

“Well I
am,
aren’t I?” She moved to the coffee table, picked up the manila envelope and handed it to him. “These are really what you want to see.”

“And I’ll take them with me if you don’t mind.” He sat down and shuffled through them quickly, then lay them out on the coffee table.

“These are taken by a professional,” he said, showing signs of anger. “I doubt very much if Gray and his friend would own such a camera.”

“So you think there’s another mystery man out there?” Her heart sank.

“That’s what we’ve got to find out. I can’t understand how our man failed to spot Gray and his friend if they were doing this.”

“Maybe he was taking a nap.” It was a weak joke. “I was even followed when I went to see Tommy and Dot. It’s a bad feeling, being spied on. Me. Melissa. Your home.” She stopped, daunted by his expression.

“I don’t like that,” he said. His tone was very quiet but deadly. “I wouldn’t like to think, either, that more than one person was trying to harass you.”

Camille had been standing, and now she moved closer, running her hand along the back of a sofa.
“Perhaps I should do as Clare Tennant suggested. Take an overseas trip until all the furor dies down.”

He turned to look at her. “Clare suggested that?”

She was piqued by his surprise. “Why not? She’s already stymied one of my chances of getting a good location for my gallery.”

“How, exactly?” He looked at Camille almost coldly. “Forgive me if I sound harsh, but I find it very odd of Clare.”

She told him, leaving nothing out. “Claude let me know this only today. He got it out of the antique dealer.”

“For God’s sake! This puts a different complexion on things.”

“I’m glad you agree.” She looked at him with some asperity. “I’ve told you before. She’s in love with you.”

“Oh, spare me.” He shook his head, his face showing extreme irritation. “What Clare is in love with is social recognition.”

“She’s probably been in love with you for years,” Camille continued, undaunted. “I know she’s stunning in appearance, but she has some sinister quality about her.”

He tilted his head back, closed his eyes for a moment. Wearily. “I’ve heard that before. My sister, Elizabeth, dislikes her intensely, but I can’t forget Clare tried very hard to be a friend to my wife.”

“The wife you treated so badly?”

It was a terrible thing to say. An unforgivable charge based on hearsay. She realized it the instant the words fell from her mouth.

He stood up immediately, his expression utterly
withdrawn. “I can’t think where you got your information. It’s not true.”

“I’m sorry.” She pressed her hands together at her breast. “You never talk about her.”

He looked through and beyond her. “I don’t think I can. Like you, there’s been a lot of trauma in my life. I blame myself for Carole’s death. She was beautiful and bright. We had a full life, a happy life for a time. Her pregnancy and Melissa’s birth changed that Suddenly we had a lot of problems. Carole always was prone to mood swings, but never to the degree she was after Melissa was born.”

He sighed. “At first we thought it might have been postpartum depression, but it didn’t go away. Her doctors spoke of a psychological instability. A genetic thing triggered by childbirth. I couldn’t accept that. But I know that Carole didn’t want the baby. It grieves me to say it, but her attitude did Melissa a lot of damage. Melissa takes after our side of the family. As she matures she’ll come into her own, I’m sure. If she had a child at all, Carole wanted a son in my image. A daughter in hers. It didn’t happen.”

A veil of stillness fell over the room, which Camille eventually broke. “Melissa says her mother adored her.”

“That wasn’t the way it was,” he said starkly. “Melissa’s describing her
dream
of a mother.”

Camille looked away, feeling sad and chastened. “I’m sorry I spoke.”

“It’s not a time in my life I like to recall.” His voice was husky. “Just in case your informant hasn’t gotten around to telling you yet, my wife was killed in a car crash. I had to use what influence I had to get
the full story repressed. In the last few years of her life Carole was using drugs, which one of her so-called friends introduced her to. That night she’d been on some new designer drug.

“It was Clare who recognized the early signs, tried to help her through her crises. I was under a lot of pressure at work, and Carole was on her own for long periods of time. I bear responsibility for that.”

He sighed again. “I love my daughter much more than my wife. Carole refused all help, and I was at the end of my tether. So I started talking divorce, taking Melissa out of her custody. Perhaps that triggered the tragedy. If it did, I have to live with it.”

He turned to leave. “I’ll take these photographs. Detective Lewis will want to see them. He’ll probably call on you.”

Camille followed him, feeling drained. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Nicholas.”

“Of course you did.” He turned on her, his eyes blazing with passion. “For some people, love and hate are two sides of the same coin.”

“You can’t think I
love
you, surely!” She almost recoiled from him. She wasn’t ready to reveal her heart. There were too many threats, too many twists and turns in her life.

“Love me, hate me, what’s the difference?” He pulled her to him roughly. “You make me so damned angry!”

“I know.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Yet I want you badly.” He seemed to be struggling for control. “I want to be deep inside you right now. Everything about you speaks to my heart. Your voice, your face, your body, the way your hair billows
around your shoulders, your body scents. Your lovely mouth.” He pressed her hard against his aroused body, feeling the soft shudders that passed through her. “God, the folly of it!” he exclaimed. “Is it
never
going to end?”

“You act as if your feeling for me is a curse.” She raised her head.

“What does one call a feeling that overwhelms all else? I’ve been obsessed with you from the beginning. Wanting you is eating away at me. The urge to pick you up and carry you into your bedroom is overpowering. To feel the burning sweetness again…” He trailed off in despair.

She lifted her fingers, pressed them to his mouth.

The touch was electric.

He caught up a coil of her hair, winding it around his wrist and holding her face to his. At first his kiss was frenzied, as though he wanted to somehow punish her, but when she gave a faint cry, his kiss gentled and conveyed such passion she responded to him helplessly. She was so susceptible to him now that his merest touch ignited her blood. She could feel a yearning everywhere in her body—her breasts, the pit of her stomach, her loins. She couldn’t get enough of him—and realized the instant before he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom that an affair could threaten them both….

I
N THE END
it was Nicholas who found suitable premises for Camille’s gallery. A prime site in a neighborhood amid other galleries, dress and jewelry boutiques, trendy restaurants and coffee shops. Nicholas had bought the corner building some years before Sydney prices had started spiraling. The premises were currently occupied by an award-winning young jeweler whose work had attracted attention in New York; when her lease ran out early in the New Year, she intended to head for America.

The premises were much better both in location and size than those she’d seen with Claude. Nicholas had offered to waive the rent for a time, at least until the gallery got under way, but rather than do that, Camille sold another piece of her mother’s jewelry.

Nothing of a sinister nature happened for almost two weeks. No more photographs. No more phone calls. The police had interviewed Sebastian Gray and his friend, warning them off. They’d stuck to their story that they’d been following Camille out of curiosity and because they had nothing better to do with their time, something that was referred to the Social Services Department. They swore they hadn’t taken any photographs. Rankin, Gray’s boyfriend, owned an old Ford sedan, the color bright yellow. No break-through
there. At that stage it was agreed Camille would take no further action. If the stalking continued, she would press charges.

L
INDA’S PROBLEMS
weren’t going away, either, although Beth Selkirk, of the all-women legal firm, had offered to take Linda in as an associate. Stephen had not reacted favorably to Linda’s plan to reenter the workforce. He was earning quite enough for both of them, he said, and wanted his wife to be at home for him. He wanted them to try again for a baby. It was an issue they had addressed
before
their marriage. Linda had agreed to the terms. Was she being fair to him or the family?

She and Stephen were openly estranged now. Linda was no longer prepared to accept her mother-in-law’s treatment of her—which was only hearsay to Stephen, the lawyer. It was Linda’s word against his mother’s. He had never seen his mother anything other than supportive. If Linda persisted in seeing herself as a martyr, their marital problems would never be resolved.

When Camille arrived at Linda’s one day for a visit, she found another car parked in the driveway.

Linda came to the door, so visibly upset Camille moved forward quickly to grasp her hand.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Before she had a chance to answer, Madelaine Carghill moved into the hallway. “You may well ask, Camille, as you’ve been such a bad influence on my daughter-in-law.” Her daughter Ann appeared at her shoulder. Like Linda both women were white-faced and upset but in a different way, Ann, shaky, her
mother self-righteous. Upset herself, Camille felt a rush of red rage.

“Come in, Milly,” Linda implored, “though I won’t blame you if you take to your heels. As you can see ‘the family’ has come to call.”

“Understand me well, Linda, we’re seriously concerned about Stephen,” Madelaine Carghill declared. “About the state of his marriage.” Her manner suggested all blame lay with Linda.

“Mightn’t it be better, Mrs. Carghill, if you allowed Stephen to work out his own problems?” Camille said. “He must be nearly thirty.”

Mrs. Carghill looked at her coldly. “There speaks a young woman who knows nothing about being a mother. Stephen will always be my son. He’ll always come to me for advice and support.”

Bolstered by Camille’s presence, Linda mustered a sharp comment. “Maybe it’s time the cord was cut.”

“Why don’t we go back into the living room?” Ann suggested in anguish. She led the way. Her mother followed. Linda and Camille were obliged to do the same.

“I’m sorry,” Linda whispered. “I had no idea they’d turn up.”

“Just so long as they don’t stay.”

Both Carghill women sat on the sofa, backs straight, Madelaine Carghill’s blue eyes astonishingly hard. This was her opportunity to state the family case. She picked up where she’d left off, chastising Linda and Camille like schoolgirls in need of the right direction.
Her
direction.

Camille was beginning to get very hot under the collar, but she held her tongue, willing Linda to speak.
Finally she did. “The thing is, Madelaine, you love Stephen, but you don’t care about me. My wants and needs don’t concern you at all. Surely you can understand I need to establish my own worth.”

“At the expense of your husband? Your marriage?” Madelaine Carghill asked incredulously. “When, for instance, are you going to try again for a child?”

“That’s
my
business.”

“It
is,
Mama.” Ann unexpectedly took Linda’s side.

“It’s
my
business, too,” her mother corrected her. “I’ll be the grandmother. Can’t you see, Linda, you’re driving Stephen away? Is that what you want?”

“I don’t want that at all,” Linda said miserably. “I love Stephen very much. I know I failed him when I lost the baby.”

“Linda, you
didn’t.”
Camille said vehemently. “A miscarriage can happen to anyone, you know that.”

“No one blames you, Linda, for losing the baby.” Ann looked at her sister-in-law aghast. “Certainly not Stephen. Wherever did you get that idea? I mean, apart from being so unfair, it’s cruel.”

“But it’s just what your mother has implied, Ann,” Linda said quietly. “She’s almost brainwashed Stephen into thinking I hadn’t taken proper care of myself.”

“Nonsense!” Ann shook her head vigorously. “That can’t be true. You didn’t do anything like that, did you, Mama?”

Madelaine Carghill’s lips tightened. “I thought it my duty to tell Stephen Linda hadn’t taken her pregnancy seriously enough. I saw her with my very eyes lift a heavy terra-cotta pot.”

“Plastic,” Linda interjected sharply. “It was plastic.”

“We all know she was doing far too much around the garden,” Mrs. Carghill continued as though Linda hadn’t spoken. “In view of her frail construction, I advised her to take it easy, but she refuses to heed advice. Especially from me. At heart I know she bitterly resents Stephen’s love for me.”

“Mama!” Ann turned to stare at her mother as if she’d never seen her before.

“Why look so surprised, Ann?” Linda asked painfully. “Don’t you know your mother hates me?”

“No, Linda, no.” There was a sick shock in Ann’s eyes. Even her voice sounded tremulous.

“Think about it, Ann,” Linda went on. “Don’t dismiss what I’m saying as you’ve done in the past. Hasn’t she always encouraged you to look on me as an interloper? A poor substitute for someone like Fiona Duncan? I admit Fiona would probably do a lot better interacting with your mother. Maybe they’re two of a kind. Your father is the only one in the family who’s been sympathetic to me. Shown me any liking.”

Ann looked off sightlessly. “Oh, Linda. I’m so sorry. I should have spoken to you myself, but Mama has been the go-between, keeping us all informed.
She’s
the one Stephen talks to.”

Madelaine Carghill nodded in triumph. “That’s the thing you need to learn, Linda. Stephen
always
comes to me. I suppose you know, my dear, now that you mention Fiona, Stephen has had to turn to her for comfort.”

At that Linda sprang up like a startled gazelle. “What are you saying?”

Madelaine Carghill smiled thinly. “Surely Camille has told you. She saw them together some weeks ago.

“Camille?” Linda looked to her friend for the truth.

“Wait a second!” Camille said. “They were having a coffee together, Lindy. That’s all I saw. Stephen came up to say hello. He ran into Fiona by accident.”

“Is that what he told you?” Madelaine Carghill smirked. “I expect he’d have to.” She turned to Linda. “No, my dear, you stand a good chance of losing my son.”

Again Ann intervened. “That’s not true, Mama. Stephen loves her. He may have considered Fiona once, but Linda blew Fiona’s chances out of the water. I thought you’d accepted that.”

Madelaine Carghill subjected her daughter to an intense quelling stare. “You may be supporting your sister-in-law now, but I have to tell you I have serious doubts about this marriage. Look how Linda has acted since she lost the baby. She’s avoided us like the plague. She won’t let Stephen near her—”

“He told you
that?”
Linda looked as though she was about to cry.

“The hell I did!”

The sound of Stephen’s voice startled them all. Madelaine Carghill swung her head, her face washed with high color.

“Lindy, come here to me,” Stephen begged, putting out his arm. “Please, darling. Come here.”

Without a moment’s hesitation Linda went into her
husband’s embrace, feeling his arms close strongly around her.

Stephen addressed them all. “I came back for a file. I’m going to need it this afternoon. I heard you, Mom, lecturing Lindy and Camille. I heard Camille say I should be allowed to work out my own problems. I
am
nearly thirty. I heard all the rest, too. I heard your exact tone. It was an eye-opener, I can tell you.” He looked at his wife. “You’ve been telling me all along my mother was working against you—and I wouldn’t accept it because I didn’t want to.”

“And Fiona?”

He held her eyes. “I did meet her for coffee. Once. It was just something that happened. Fiona rang. I was feeling pretty low.”

“So then you bought me an expensive bracelet?”

Stephen gave her a little shake. “I bought you the bracelet because I love you. I wanted to please you. But you didn’t say a word, so I didn’t think I had.”

“You didn’t give me time.”

As she watched the couple, Camille realized it was the right moment for an exit. “Speaking of time—” she glanced at her watch “—I must be off.”

Ann stood up, too. “We should be going, as well, Mama. I have to pick up the children.” She walked toward her brother and Linda, who were standing arms entwined. “Please forgive me for any hurt I’ve caused you, Linda. Believe me, that’s all over.” She kissed Linda, then her brother. “I’d really hate to see you two lose each other.”

Madelaine Carghill, however, couldn’t hold back her bitterness. She rose heavily to her feet, looking betrayed. “Ever since you’ve come into the family,
Linda, you’ve been tearing us apart.” she lashed out. “We used to be a single unit You’ve brought divisiveness.”

Stephen shook his head in pain. “I think you’d better search your own conscience, Mom. I love you. But that would change if I thought you were deliberately trying to break up my marriage.”

The woman shrank back, grim-faced and hostile. “Don’t try to turn the tables on me, Stephen.
You’re
the one who’s been doing all the complaining. I was only trying to help you with your problems.”

“I thought so, too.
Once.
Now I don’t know. I
heard
you, Mom. I heard the things you said and the way you said them. I didn’t think it possible that, as my mother, you’d want to destroy my marriage. I’d be finished without Linda. So we’ve hit a bad patch—we’ll get through it. I have to listen to Linda more. I’ve been selfish seeing her only in terms of my wife. What
I
wanted had to be. I’ve been denying Lindy any life outside me.”

His mother laughed contemptuously. “Now there’s a strange idea. Countless women would love to swap places with Linda. She’s got a handsome clever husband, a respected young lawyer from one of the best families. She has a beautiful home in an exclusive suburb. She has the money to buy just about anything she wants. For many that would be heaven. So she miscarries? Instead of getting on with the business of making you happy, she turns a setback into a major emotional crisis. Now she wants to return to work.”

Madelaine Carghill snorted. “She’ll never succeed, in my opinion. She doesn’t have what it takes. Who’s going to consult a woman so obviously weak and vulnerable?
I find myself totally out of patience. Having Camille Guilford for a friend has only made her worse. She’s encouraged Linda to go against your wishes, Stephen, and those of the family.”

The woman swung her angry gaze to. Camille. “There’s bad blood in you, my girl. I’ve known it for quite a while.”

Camille had a shocking thought. “Are you sure you haven’t done something about it? Tried to harm me?”

“You offensive little bitch!”

Ann, the blood gone from her face, caught her mother’s arm. “Please stop, Mother. No one wants to listen to any more.”

Her mother, threw her hand off. “What I said I hold to. This marriage will only bring misery. You’ve stolen my son, Linda.”

“Stop, Mom,
please.”
Stephen’s mouth was set in a tense line.

“I’m sorry, Stephen.” Ann grabbed her mother’s arm again and turned to face Camille. “I can’t think what you mean, Camille. My mother has never sought to harm you.”

A
S SHE DROVE BACK
into the city, Camille continued to see Madelaine Carghill’s cold austere face, the frozen eyes.

She parked in a department-store parking lot and stayed far longer than she’d intended, wandering around the shops without really seeing anything. When at last she emerged from the parking lot, it was raining heavily. Conditions along the Eastern Seaboard had been unsettled for some time as one cyclone after another hit the North Queensland coast. Mostly they’d
blown themselves out to sea. Nevertheless it was one of the wettest summers they’d experienced in years.

Back at her apartment building she again parked in the outdoor visitors’ zone. Events had made her uneasy. She took a shortcut through the gardens and was almost onto the path when a small figure shot out of the bushes and hurled itself at her, white-faced and shrieking.

Melissa.

Camille’s own problems flew out of her mind. She put her arm around the child, steering her quickly through the security door and into the lift. Mercifully it was empty, because Melissa broke into a noisy torrent of wailing.

“I hate her! I hate her! I’m never going back! I’m going to live with you! Please let me, Camille. I’ll be good. I promise. I won’t give you any trouble!”

“Hush, pet, hush. We’ll talk as soon as we get you dry.”

Fifteen minutes later Melissa was dried, dressed in Camille’s smallest T-shirt and settled in her bed.