THEY walked together to Harriet’s house. Laura loved this time of evening, when the stars started to come out in all their desert glory. It was a phenomenal display, far exceeding any she had seen over the costal cities. And every bright star in the sky had an aboriginal myth to account for its origin. She loved reading about them, and seeing the extraordinary aboriginal art proudly displayed in the Shire Hall
The Southern Cross followed them as they walked, its outline brilliantly defined in the soft purple sky. Its points were the spirits of the aboriginal ancestors. The diamond-encrusted river that curved across the sky was the Milky Way, its billions of twinkling stars the camp fires of the ancestors who had flown up there as a reward for the good lives they had led. The Evening Star, hanging by its long stalk, was a lotus, living in the Dreaming Country of the moon.
The aboriginal symbol for a star was a lotus, she had learned. She had admired those paintings—the flower the star’s bright glow, the stalk the star’s path through the night sky. And there was Orion, the mighty hunter with his jeweled belt. The constellation Scorpio, lovers who had broken tribal law, and the lesser stars of the constellation the boomerang and throwing sticks that had been hurled after them.
“You’re quiet,” Evan said, tucking her arm more firmly beneath his.
“I’m marvelling at the brilliance of the stars. Thinking about the aboriginal myths. The Dreaming hadn’t come alive for me until I made the journey out here to Koomera Crossing. Now I find myself making a study of aboriginal beliefs as set out in the myths and legends. They’re wonderfully dramatic.”
“They are. They involve great Beings and amazing geological events which do contain the essence of truth. It’s quite extraordinary—we have an ancient people whose traditions and cultures have scarcely changed in tens of thousands of years. You’ll understand more fully what the land means to the aboriginal people when we visit the Red Centre.”
“I can’t wait,” she said, looking up at him with a smile.
“Neither can I, for that matter. As far as I’m concerned no other region in the world can equal its stark primeval beauty. The Timeless Land, the oldest part of the earth’s crust. You’re going to love it.”
“A real adventure.” Her voice was full of pleasure. “I love this town too, with all its quaint little workers’ cottages and grander colonials, like yours and Harriet’s. The mix of modest and grandeur, the latticed Queenlanders, with their broad wraparound verandahs to protect the house from the sun. Some of the houses are almost submerged in greenery. It’s odd on the desert fringe.”
“Courtesy bore water from the Great Artesian Basin,” he explained. “It lies below a large part of the Queensland Outback, providing invaluable supplies of water, as you can imagine.”
“I’ve just realized I’m hungry,” she said as they walked up Harriet’s front path, catching the drift of succulent aromas.
“That’s good, because Harriet’s a splendid cook.”
The exterior lights and the lights from the house lit up their way. Nearing the steps, Evan took her hand again.
“Watch those high heels.” He glanced down at her pretty pink slingbacks.
“I like to look taller,” Laura responded a little breathlessly, feeling her heart racing with excitement every time he touched her.
“You look very beautiful.”
How his deep voice stirred her, as if her heart was a cello string. “That’s the second time you’ve told me.”
“I was hoping you’d give me a smile.”
“Didn’t I smile the first time? I’d be astonished if I hadn’t.”
“As a matter of fact you didn’t.” Their glances briefly locked. “You looked very much like your thoughts were elsewhere.”
He was far too perceptive. She’d been reminded inevitably of other times. Colin introducing her so proudly to new people. “My beautiful wife.” The sheer lunacy of it. She wondered if she’d have faired better had she been plain, not the “classic chocolate box”, as he’d often labelled her with heavy ridicule.
“I heard you all the same,” she assured Evan quietly.
“Good.” He couldn’t help the fact it sounded clipped.
Harriet must have heard their voices, because she hurried out onto the porch, giving Laura a quick hug. “Don’t you look lovely!” she said warmly. “Such a pretty dress. Evan, I’m so pleased you could come.”
“You’re too good a cook, Harriet,” Evan said, bending his dark head to peck Harriet’s cheek.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard about my idea—Kyall’s, really—of opening a restaurant in the town, but you will,” Harriet said enthusiastically.
“Wouldn’t teaching be easier?” Evan asked, thinking running a restaurant would be hard work. Harriet was well into her sixties.
“I don’t doubt it, but I feel like a new challenge. In fact I’m very excited at the prospect.”
“Good for you. Count on me as a patron. I suspect Laura too.”
“I am counting on it.” Harriet laughed. “Now, come in and meet the rest of my guests, Laura. Evan knows them, of course. And Sarah’s here.”
“Lovely!” Laura felt very peaceful with her friend Sarah around.
Harriet was in high spirits. Tonight she wore a fantastic flowing garment of vibrant, swirling colours Laura thought might have been put on backwards—whether by design or accident, she wasn’t sure.
Harriet leaned closer, speaking directly to Laura. “Darling, if you think I’ve got this on backwards, you’re right. I thought it made it look better.”
“You look gorgeous, Harriet. I should have brought my camera.”
Harriet beamed at her. “Caftans are back in. I read that in Paris Vogue. I bought the material for this one in Morocco. Ran it up myself. Made a reasonable job of it, I think.”
“Harriet is multi-talented.” A smile of warm amusement appeared on Evan’s face. “You have yet to hear her playing her viola.”
“I’d love that.”
“This man plays the cello like I imagine the Archangel Gabriel might.” Harriet lifted her head, looking up at Evan with obvious pleasure. “The big, full tone. No question it’s a man playing. I think our Evan here has seen a great deal of life,” she challenged, her grey gaze growing pointed. “It’s all in his playing. It creates real electricity in the listener. You’re looking wonderfully relaxed tonight, Evan. That sharp, passionate mind seems soothed.”
“You think so?” Evan asked dryly.
“At least you’re not so fiercely private.”
“That’s because, my dear Harriet, I acknowledge you as a friend,” he told her suavely.
And what of Laura? Harriet thought, thoroughly intrigued by this developing situation. The way Laura and Evan moved together, their whole body language, suggested a certain degree of intimacy, of understanding. But lovely Laura, in her summery dusky pink dress, light as air, was still married to her dreadful husband. Laura would have to tell Evan before they became more deeply involved. If they hadn’t reached that point already…
“Heavens, you’re not going to stay out there all night?” They heard Sarah call from the front room.
“Coming, dear.” With a burst of rich laughter, Harriet swept her guests into the house.
The evening was destined to be a great success. Eight people sat down to dinner: Harriet at one end of the beautifully appointed table, her “friend” Dr Morris Hughes, Sarah’s colleague at the hospital, at the other, Laura and Evan opposite each other, Sarah beside Evan, Laura beside Alex Matheson, a very elegant dark-haired, grey-eyed man in his early thirties, the conductor of the town’s orchestra, and a very pleasant middle-aged couple, the Wards—Selma and Alan—who were right at the top of Harriet’s network of friends, made up the numbers.
Selma, it transpired, was Harriet’s “second cook”, and was very good and very interested in Harriet’s new venture.
Harriet certainly lived up to her reputation as having special culinary talents, Laura thought as the conversation eddied around her. Apparently Harriet’s dinner parties featured a variety of cuisines: Malay, Thai, Indian, Japanese, Chinese and occasionally classic French. But she was a great champion of the more exotic cuisines.
Tonight was Thai. Khao Soi Gai—egg noddles with a spicy chicken curry—to start, followed by sautéed beef tenderloin with black pepper sauce and green baby vegetables, then a choice of mango cheesecake on a pistachio sponge base or iced banana parfait with coconut crust for those who had room for dessert.
They all did.
Laura by this point felt all her tensions and tortured thoughts of Colin had fallen away. Introductions had gone well for her. All the guests were warm, friendly people who’d accepted her immediately. The talk had ranged over a wide number of interesting and entertaining topics. Harriet and Evan, who appeared to have really come out of his shell, had tossed them up as if they were throwing up juggling balls. Alex Matheson, whose elegant manner appeared undampened by the fact he suffered periodic bouts of near blindness, had paid special attention to the fact Laura was a Conservatorium-trained pianist.
That at least she had been able to admit, though she couldn’t help noticing with relief no one delved too deeply into her background. An unspoken agreement? Whatever it was, she was grateful.
The Wards were members of the orchestra too, Alex told her. Alan on clarinet; Selma on flute. Obviously the love of music ran through them all, forming an immediate bond. Their music-making was a source of considerable pleasure and satisfaction, not only to them but to the people of the town.
“When do we hear you play?” Alex asked Laura. One would never have known he suffered from a very serious eye problem by looking at him. His grey eyes were crystal-clear.
“I promise you you’ll enjoy it.” Evan glanced across at his friend. “Laura’s fingers simply draw the music from the keys.”
“As do yours from the strings,” Alex said graciously. “Evan’s the rock on which the rest of the group rests,” he confided to Laura. “I don’t suppose you’d consider joining us in a quintet for piano and strings? I’m useless these days as a pianist.”
“Not true.” Very firmly said from the rest of the table.
“Well, not what I was.” Alex shrugged. “We’ve only just started working on Beethoven’s Ghost. Evan can tell you. We’re going to rehearse from now on at his house, so you wouldn’t have to go far.”
“I’d be honoured,” Laura said, allowing her eyes to touch on Evan across the gleaming expanse of the table: snowy linen and lace tablemats, sumptuous oriental china and dishes, crystal wine glasses, a long low arrangement of white butterfly orchids that trembled in the breeze.
He was a very striking-looking man, with his strong distinctive features, the breadth of his shoulders emphasized by his soft beige jacket with cotton dress shirt beneath. She knew there was a lot of turbulence and intensity in him, but tonight he had concentrated on being witty and charming.
“Marvellous!”
“I beg your pardon?” Abruptly, Laura realized in staring at Evan she hadn’t heard what Alex had just said to her.
“I said marvellous that you’ll join us,” Alex repeated, not missing a thing. Smoothly he saluted her with his wine glass. “Welcome on board, Laura.”
“That went extremely well,” Evan remarked as they made their way home. Knowing Harriet always served her guests wine, they had walked the easy strolling distance to Harriet’s house rather than take Evan’s car.
“I enjoyed every minute. I thought you and Harriet made a great team. Both of you so witty and clever. You’ve been to so many places! And I didn’t know Harriet was a flirt!” She laughed.
“He’s a very nice man, and he so enjoys Harriet. Sarah had a lovely time too, but she’s missing Kyall.”
“They’ll be married soon and they’ll have their daughter,” Evan said quietly.
“Like a miracle, isn’t it?”
“Thank God they do happen. But no miracles for Alex, I’m afraid.”
“What exactly is wrong with his eyesight? His eyes are perfectly clear.”
“They were tonight. Other times—the bad times—they look quite different. Whatever it is and I don’t fully understand the condition, it’s quite rare.”
“With no cure?” Laura’s voice conveyed her sympathy.
“Maybe I’m entirely wrong, but I think some of Alex’s problem could be psychological. He’s highly strung, as my mother used to say, and as close-lipped about his past as we are. All three of us could be classed as damaged people.”
“Something should be done to help him.”
“Something should be done to help all of us,” Evan said wryly. “Do you think you’ll ever be happily married, Laura?”
She had her opening. Shouldn’t she seize it? Tell him at the end of this lovely evening: I’m married, Evan. Not only that, but married to an abusive man, terrible as it is. She hesitated fatally, thinking how desolate she would feel if he dropped her hand like a hot cake.
The moment went by. “Look at you,” she evaded, summoning up a light tone. “Why aren’t you thinking of marriage? I’ve deduced you haven’t led a normal life, but don’t you want a wife, a family?”
“Everything in good time.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“All right, Laura, would you marry me?”
For a minute she couldn’t move on. She froze, shocked out of an answer until she realized his tone had been sardonic.
“I couldn’t,” she said finally, and released her breath.
“Of course you couldn’t. You’re in love with your doctor.”
“No, I’m not.” Sadness mingled with utter truth.
“You just like being under his thumb?” He regretted it the instant he’d said it. Not that he didn’t mean it but it had sounded chastening.
She flushed. “We’ve had such a lovely night. Don’t let’s spoil it.” She couldn’t bear that, not when she was experiencing such peace it was like a dream.
“How are those heels taking the walk?” he asked, immediately reacting to her tone and changing subjects.
“Fine. I’m used to them.”
Being with him in this glorious star-filled night was rapture. She hadn’t needed three glasses of beautiful white wine over dinner to intoxicate her blood. She was travelling on a magic carpet. Just the two of them in the quiet tree-shrouded street with the heavens over them ablaze.
He paused at her front gate. “I’ll see you in.”
She didn’t say no. No matter how far she tried to remove herself from thoughts of Colin there was always the threat of his materialising out of the darkness one day.
“Would you like to come in for a moment?” she found herself murmuring. “I left Freddy in his basket.”
“Just for a moment.” He felt a sudden sharp ache for his own aloneness. “I’ll check the house for you.”
“Why? What do you think you’ll discover?”
“What you’re so damned worried about.” He took the key out of her nerveless hand, inserted it in the lock and opened the cottage door. He found the switch, flooding the hallways with soft golden light. As he turned his head, he registered her expression.
She stood there, staring back at him, lips parted. Petite, delicate in her pink dress, her dark gleaming hair framing her face. He wanted to take that lovely face into his hands. He wanted to kiss the soft, tender curves of her mouth. He wanted to chase the shadows from her jewelled eyes.
He knew he only had to touch her and the want would turn into a burning fever. Her pretty dress clung to her slender body, the low V neckline, delicately ruffled, drawing his eyes to the exquisite contours of her breasts. For an instant he allowed himself to see her arched against him. He knew there was passion in her. He had heard it in her music.
“Evan?” She too was conscious they were poised on a knife-edge.
“Things to do.” He moved abruptly into the parlour, turning on the lights. At first he didn’t notice the kitten staring up at him. It was so small, so black, a bundle of fur almost undetectable except for the brilliant colour of its eyes. “Freddy’s awake,” he called over his shoulder. “Probably wants some milk and some company.”
“Oh, sweetheart!” Laura followed Evan into the room, bending to pick up her kitten. “I bet you’ve been missing me.”
Evan didn’t speak, but watched them for a moment. He’d known a number of beautiful women in his life. He’d imagined himself in love with the traitor Monika. But this young woman had become painfully important to him in much too short a space of time. In a sense it was difficult to understand how profoundly she’d affected him. She was beautiful, certainly, and intelligent, gifted. Her laughter was lovely. Her smile. Was it her delicate femininity that made him think she needed protection? If she had a problem with her doctor lover, as she must have to flee him, she was clearly unwilling to give up the relationship.
He knew from the first moment he saw her she was going to affect his life. What made him think it would be for the good? If he allowed himself to fall in love with her—hell, he was in love with her—she could only cause him pain. Surely he’d had enough experience of pain to guard himself from it? And living his kind of life—if he returned to it—he had to keep himself free.
Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be beguiled by the sight of young woman and kitten. She could have posed for one of those enchantingly sentimental Victorian paintings. Yet she was a woman of mystery. This whole damned thing with her doctor lover was baffling. Unresolved. Obviously the man saw her as a trophy, an appendage. The thought upset him.
He heard her cooing to her bundle of fluff as it tenderly nuzzled her neck before she carried the kitten into the kitchen—no doubt for a warm drink of milk. It had grown in a matter of days. Clearly she loved it. For such a small gesture on his part it gave him immense pleasure.
The cottage was empty, so he took a minute to check the detached laundry. Really, she couldn’t be safer in this town. There was no crime. Nothing beyond kids getting up to pranks or the occasional teenager somehow getting hold of enough alcohol to make them drunk. They certainly wouldn’t be served at the pub, where every last kid was known right down to the year of birth. He glanced around the laundry, then walked the short distance to the back door. He didn’t know if she’d unlocked it but tapped on it all the same.
“Evan?”
Even through the solid timber door he could hear the quaver in her voice.
“Yes. Hope I didn’t frighten you?” he called. What the hell was this? God, he was six-four and he had a black belt. He’d be good at protecting her from whatever it was that made her feel especially vulnerable.
When he stepped inside the cottage she was shaking. “I was checking the laundry,” he explained, staring down at her. “I thought you’d realize I’d check around.”
“Of course.” She turned away, but not before he saw her face.
Perturbed, he turned her around again, his hands firm on her shoulders. “Laura, what is this? You think I don’t know fear when I see it? I’ve witnessed it many times in life. If you feel like this, you must tell someone. Tell me. Who’s going to come to your door?”
“I’m so sorry, Evan. I’m just a nervous woman,” she apologized. “Some women are. We’re not all brave, especially when someone knows you’re on your own.” She was horrified that she continually failed the test to confide in him when she kept promising herself she would.
“You’re not on your own, Laura,” he protested. “Is this man of yours so damn bad you’re frightened he’s going to come after you? What then? He can’t force you to do anything you don’t want. Has he some hold over you? Is he somehow blackmailing you? Has he made you do things you didn’t like? What is it? Has he been making threats? Saying he’ll attempt suicide if you leave him? Is he saying any goddamn thing to hold onto you?” he asked tautly.
She bit back a moan. Colin had done all those things. “All this because you gave me a fright?”
“You don’t dare tell me, do you?”
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Those few moments of involuntary fright bore witness to the unhealed scars Colin had left on her. Her beautiful eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. There was such shame deep within her for the ugly secret she carried around with her. It hit at her soul and all but undermined her self-respect.
“Don’t cry, Laura,” he begged. God help him she broke his heart.
“Oh, Evan!” She began to flail his chest helplessly.
“Come here to me.” She might have been a kitten in his arms, all softness and delicate bones.
The instant his arms closed around her she felt less frantic. Regaining a measure of control. This was Evan, not the monster she’d married. She pressed her body against his, feeding on his abundant strength. She loved the smell that came off his skin: like incense, warm, clean, male, already familiar to her as someone very dear. She had the sensation she was melting into him, hungry for the tenderness of the hand that stroked her. Such moments were idyllic. With Evan there would be no loss of control, no rush to violence.
“You’re not going to go to sleep on me again, are you? This happens every time I hold you in my arms.” His voice sounded indulgent, though a passionate desire for her was stirring his flesh.
“I may do,” she murmured, wanting these moments to last.
“You haven’t been treated properly, have you, Laura?”
“You treat me properly, Evan.”
“You know I want to make love to you?”
“Yes.” She trembled, overcome by the desire that rose at his call.
“Can you handle it?” He tipped up her head, to hold her green gaze.
“I don’t know that I’m any good at making love,” she confessed.
“Aren’t you?” His voice was both tender. “You could have fooled me. You need to feel safe, Laura. That’s all it is. You’ll be safe with me. We’ll go slowly. If you become frightened, we’ll draw back. You’re holding your breath. Let it go. I’ve kissed you before.”
“I loved it.”
“You’ll have your chance to prove it.” He swung her up into his arms, carrying her through to the parlour, where he held her cradled on the sofa.
He was so much in love with this strange contradictory girl he felt the force of it rise like the great jet of a fountain. Nonetheless he began to kiss her, his passionate desire almost overcoming his promise to go slowly. She was afraid of hurt. He couldn’t possibly risk hurting her with his vastly superior strength or the fiery energy that was in him.
Her mouth was so sweet, blissful, the velvet inside, her tongue. Her arousal was apparent. He could hear it in the soft little gathering cries that increased his own urgency.
He stroked the silky length of her arms, drew her up so she was even closer. Body to body. She clung to him, but he could sense a kind of conflict was happening inside her body, inside her head.
“Do you want me to stop?” He feared he was already too far along.
“No!” Her whisper was fervent. “It’s not you, it’s me. You’re wonderful.”
“So are you. Surely you know that?”
How could she answer? Tell him how Colin had habitually demeaned her? “Make love to me, Evan.”
He felt his senses reel. “You know I might reach a point when I won’t be able to stop? Even for you.” He had to warn her.
“You might discover you don’t want me.” That was dredged up from the taunts of the past.
“That’s not going to happen, Laura. Trust me.”
She sighed as if she were unburdening herself of all fears and anxieties. “All I want is for you to love me.”
Love her he did! He made her whole body bloom, her white skin turning roseate with the heat of her blood. She lay on her bed, her hair spread around her body, naked except for the cool white sheet, while Evan turned her to face him. He kissed her face, her ears, her throat and her breasts, moved his mouth over her stomach, moving lower and lower, very quiet about it, while her body clenched and unclenched as only rapture followed the thrilling trail of fire.
The most wonderful thing was happening to her. Up until then marital sex had been a nightmare. This flowering, this warm languor, was exquisite, though her breath came shorter and sharper as the life force flowed through her.
He was speaking very gently. She couldn’t speak herself. She was lost in the multitude of sensations his mouth and hands were calling forth with absolute quiet mastery.
Starlight showered the room; little squares of radiant moonlight fell on the rug. She knew he was propped up on an elbow, looking down at her face. She couldn’t see him now. Her eyes had closed tightly as the shimmering rapture mounted. She had to hold it in. Treasure it. She’d endured so much suffering.
He was tracing the contours of her breasts, his hands so strong yet so exquisitely tender as they circled towards the tightly furled nipple. She was blind. Blind to everything but pleasure. She had dreaded night-time, going to bed, the object of Colin’s sick obsession. She had never experienced anything remotely like this, her body shuddering not with pain but with a sensuality so voluptuous it was consuming her. There was no assault. This had nothing to do with bodily assault. This was the kind of lovemaking that approached pure magic.
“Laura?” He brushed his lips against hers. “Look at me.”
Even though she was drifting on a great wave of sexual excitement she heard his call. He kissed her naked shoulder, looked into her open eyes. “You’re exquisite! So exquisite you move me to tears.”
Imagine that! He thought her exquisite! How glorious those words sounded after Colin’s destructive names.
“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”
Such tenderness she had never known.
Her breath exhaled on a “Yes!” She had discovered the purest kind of desire. Now all she needed to make it perfect was their union.
Slowly, slowly, he entered her, holding down all momentum. He felt the fluttering in her womb, then the strong contraction to enclose him. Agony for him and yet an extravagant radiating pleasure. He wanted desperately to be gentle with her, but he didn’t know how to contain the deep driving male urge that might hurl him over the edge. Love was a flame!
He bore down, waited, heard her utter little moans he deduced as pleasure. The moans stretched out into a sob of wanting…wanting… He couldn’t mistake it. He began his plunge into her lovely receptive body, exultant as she met him with the most ravishing desire of her own.
Instantly he was empowered. He held back no longer. And his last thought before passion controlled him was that he could never lose her. This woman held his heart in her hands.