THE night before they left the desert Laura woke up in a cold sweat, her heart drumming in her ears.
She’d had a dream. A terrible dream. Chaotic.
She was back in Thailand, the scene of her honeymoon. Colin was pursuing her through a darkened temple, though she could see the glimmering of a river through the windows of the huge wooden building. Numbers of living Buddhas, skin gleaming gold, richly attired, jewel-adorned, were all around her, seated and walking, accompanied by monks in their saffron robes. She could see them all vividly. She threw out her hands, imploring them to hide her within the temple, but they moved slowly past her as though she were invisible or had no voice.
Colin was the hunter. She was the hunted. Incapable as always of overcoming her fear of him and his punishing hands. She ran out of the temple into a shrill and tumultuous thoroughfare, swarming with Asians and the little three-wheeled tuk-tuks that transported tourists. Nobody looked at her as she ran crying for help. Nobody spoke to her. By now she was frantic.
She ran to a great carved and decorated door. At last she would find sanctuary. She pulled on the brass handle. The door didn’t budge. She rattled the handle, pulling with all her strength. Panting, struggling, she managed to get it to give a little—only Colin was behind her, overpowering her.
She threw up her hands to protect her face, screaming out helplessly, “No! No! No!” without any will left to fight.
“Open your eyes, Laura. Open them!” a voice ordered her.
“No, I don’t want to.” She tried to get away.
“Laura! You’re dreaming. Open your eyes. It’s me, Evan. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
“Oh…Evan!” She turned onto her back, releasing her stifled breath. Dazedly she stared up into his strongly hewn face. “Oh, God! My heart is pounding so hard I could be sick.”
“It was a nightmare,” he told her, smoothing her damp tumbled hair off her face. “Just a nightmare. You’re safe now.”
“Ahh!” She had to wait for her heart to slow.
Evan turned away to snap on the light. He stared down at her with jet-black intensity. She looked deeply disturbed, a fine dew of sweat sheened her lovely skin. Desert nights were very cold, but their room was air conditioned, set at a comfortable temperature. He rose and walked to the bathroom. Quickly he found a face washer, wetting it thoroughly, then wringing it out.
“What was that all about?” he asked, gently, wiping her face, her throat and her hands before patting them dry. “I thought one of the mythical Dreamtime creatures was trying to grab you.” He tried for a light touch though he felt quite perturbed.
“I can’t say just yet.” She fought hard to break free of the effects of the nightmare. “Do you think I could have a glass of water?”
“Of course you can.” He went away to get it, by which time she had hauled herself up in the bed, her head leaning back against the wall.
“There’s a nip of brandy, if you want it.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“I think I’ll have one,” he said, going to the small bar. “You sounded so terrified you terrified me.”
“It was so real!” she breathed.
“Here, let me put this rug around you.” He picked up the velvety soft rug that lay like a coverlet at the end of the bed.
She allowed him to wrap it around her, but when he went to walk away she caught at his hand.
“Don’t go, Evan.”
“I’m not going anywhere, my love. I’ll get my drink and come back to bed.”
“Please.” She was wide awake now, but still nervous, still a part of her dream.
When Evan returned to bed he gathered her into his arms, settling her head on his chest. She inched even closer, making him bend his head to kiss her.
“Feel better now?” He stroked and soothed her, his deep voice full of concern.
“I think I’m going to pieces.” She tried to laugh.
“Why? You’ve been so happy. We’ve had a wonderful time, haven’t we?”
“I want it to go on for ever, but it can’t.”
“Why do you say that, Laura?” Driven by something in her tone, he turned up her face, held it to him.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Evan,” she said in a bravely determined voice.
“Then you’d better tell me. I’m ready to listen.”
“I pray I’ll say it well. I’m so frightened of losing you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. My world. I can’t bear the idea of it collapsing.”
Anxiety dug its claws into him, but he didn’t allow it to overcome him. “I guess it’s got a lot to do with your boyfriend. You’d better tell me.”
Laura drew herself out of his arms. She feared outright rejection. “He’s not my boyfriend, Evan. I’ve allowed you to believe that. Forgive me. He’s my husband.”
Here it comes, she thought in misery. Disbelief. Disgust. Rejection. She braced herself.
“Your husband!” Evan’s voice was more full of pain than anger. “My God, Laura. Why would you keep anything so significant to our relationship to yourself?”
“I’m a coward, that’s why,” she said simply. “Full of fears to this day, when I’ve been trying desperately to get strong.”
“To think I believed you!” He rose from the bed. Abandoned her. “Has this whole damn thing been a charade? I’ve never had an affair with a married woman before.”
“I wanted to tell you, Evan.”
“What else haven’t you told me?” he retorted, turning to stare at her, even now under her spell. Hell, was he stupid, besotted, or what? “A couple of kids?”
“Colin never wanted children. It was enough to have me. You had your secrets, Evan,” she pointed out quietly.
“I did get around to telling you,” he replied in a clipped voice. “My secrets didn’t include being married.” He stalked to the wardrobe, pulled out some clothes.
“What are you doing?” She stared at him almost fearfully.
“I’m going for a walk.” His tone held a deep, quiet anger.
“Now?” He left her reeling with guilt.
“Yes, now,” he said crisply. “Lock the door after me. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
“You can’t bear to be with me another minute, can you?” She rose swiftly, letting the enveloping rug fall to the floor, her slender body barely veiled by her satin nightgown.
“I need a break, Laura.” He looked away from her, angry that he had allowed himself to fall so deeply in love with her. “The fact you’re married—and no matter what you say you can’t bring yourself to break free of that marriage—changes everything for me. I hope to God you’re not playing games.” Memories of Monika and her betrayal suddenly battered him.
“Never.” She shook her head, while her hair foamed like silk around her pale face. “Everything I’ve said to you came from the heart.”
“Don’t start crying,” he warned.
“I won’t.” Her voice broke.
“I just have to get some air.” He picked up a wool-lined jacket and put it on.
“I’m so sorry, Evan.”
“I dare say you are,” he said in an ironic voice. “I’d like to say let’s put it behind us and move on. Except I can’t.”
“You have every right to be angry.”
“Laura, stop.’
But she rushed to him, laying a white hand on his sleeve. “I have to tell you something else that might make you understand.”
“You do have a child, for all your denials?” He stared down at her, his voice taking on a bitter edge. “Why should I be surprised? Does your child look like you or its father?” he asked with black humour.
“Please—there’s no child. I could never leave my child.” She put up her arms to him, her green eyes imploring.
“Don’t!” He dragged her arms down. “It’s all falling apart.”
“I won’t let it! I need you desperately.”
In the midst of his disillusionment desire was devouring him from within. Love was like the open sea. Sometimes tranquil, other times hit by violent storms. He lifted her almost brutally high into his arms, plundering her soft cushiony mouth in a way she wasn’t likely to forget. Wild thoughts, initiated by anger and passion, flashed into his head. He tightened his hold on her beautiful body, then he remembered how small she was. He might bruise her.
“Goddamn it to hell!” he muttered fiercely, letting her slide to the floor. In a heartbeat his anger faded to self-disgust. “Go back to bed, Laura. I’m sorry if I hurt you. But don’t even attempt to try to seduce me again.”
He started to the door, a big, angry disillusioned man, leaving Laura, trembling and bereft, staring after him. The door closed with a very loud click.
Exit Evan from my life, Laura thought fatalistically, dropping to her knees like a penitent.
But he doesn’t know the half of it, a quiet, authoritative voice in her head told her, promising hope. You made a bad job of telling him. He’s shocked, hurt, feeling betrayed. You can understand that, can’t you? You’ve steeled yourself for it. Evan’s a man who feels things deeply. He’s taken this hard, the loss of trust. You know he wants you. As lovers you’ve experienced overwhelming rapture.
Pray God it was enough. She had to reach out to him again. She had to keep a straight head. Get focused on what she wanted to say. She’d been the victim of marital abuse. He must know what that meant. She’d lived in fear of her husband, who’d sworn he would follow her to the ends of the earth should she ever try to escape. Shocking when one thought about it. One human being terrorizing another.
Her flight from reality was over. In a curious way she knew relief. She had come a long way with Evan. Her new-found courage was a wavering thing. But even if she had to put herself in real physical danger she was going to confront Colin.
Hold onto that, Laura, the voice in her head urged her.
It was only much later that Laura came to believe the voice she heard that night was the voice of her beloved father.
When he returned he found she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. The thin strap of her nightgown had fallen off her shoulder, exposing the beauty and delicacy of her breasts. She was lying in a near abandoned position, one arm flung above her head, the other wide, the hem of her long nightgown rucked up on one side to reveal a straight slender leg. What lovely limbs she had! Petite of stature but everything in proportion.
He’d had this crazy dream they could make a go of it. He felt a mixture of grief and a hard self-contempt. It was sheer coincidence Laura had a look of Monika. What he had felt for Monika was nothing compared to this feeling he had for Laura. It consumed him. But he couldn’t handle the fact she was married. Deception versus reality.
Yet there was so much excitement in looking at her. He backed away from the bed to a chair, slumping into it. The sun was rising over the desert, turning the eternal sands and all the great monuments pink into rose, into orange-gold.
They would have breakfast and be on their way. After that? He closed his eyes for a few moments, falling deeper into a brooding melancholy with no wish to control it.
Why wouldn’t the husband, poor devil, come after her? Wouldn’t he himself? The husband was probably just as madly in love with her as he was. Any man looking at her would describe her as wonderfully alluring. It was a combination of innocence and a powerful but elegant sex appeal.
He’d thought he was so damned experienced in the ways of the world. Well, he’d been tricked by his own perceptions. He’d been so sure she was exactly what he thought she was. So sure of what went on between them. The passion and the tenderness, the euphoria that came with believing one had found one’s soul mate.
He’d all but finished his book. It was good. Real. Her influence had been far-reaching. He’d wanted to return to life. Not life as he had lived it, on the extreme edge, but a new life, with Laura. She’d become his world. A world more vivid than he, world-traveller, had ever known.
Now this!
Secrets, secrets, secrets! Yet who had taught her to fear?
Only then did he start to consider the source of her obvious problems. Unless she was the world’s greatest actress—and she might be—he was convinced she hadn’t been treated properly. He held the image of her as she’d come out of her dream. She’d been terrified. On the brink of blind panic.
Of what? He hadn’t really let her speak. There had been so much bitterness and disillusionment on his own palate.
Didn’t hope spring eternal? No sooner had he come to the decision he must follow his own direction than he was back to trying to make a meaning of all that had gone between them. He remembered her saying once she wasn’t good at making love. Now, that was really ridiculous.
But was it a deeply ingrained taunt? Had her husband allowed her to believe that? Tried to fool her into thinking it was the truth? She was a dream to make love to. A man could savour the experience for ever. One reason suggested itself. The husband wanted her entirely to himself. He wanted her easily manipulated, controlled. Yet the marriage bond seemed strong. It was a real puzzle.
“Evan?”
He turned his face to her. She was sitting up in the bed, watching him, her beautiful cascade of hair almost black against the white bedlinen, her green eyes shimmering like jewels in the dawn glow.
He straightened slightly in his chair. “You’re awake.
“I have been for some minutes,” she admitted. “You were so deep in thought I didn’t like to disturb you.”
His laugh was off key. “Well, you’ve made a thoroughly good job of that.”
“I was wrong.” She was out of bed, shouldering into her ivory satin robe.
“Laura, if you’re going to tell me you must go back to your husband, please let it alone,” he said wearily. “I thought we were celebrating the love of a lifetime, but maybe it was just one hell of an affair.”
“Don’t insult both of us,” she said. “I need you to know precisely what went wrong with my marriage. Why I felt little guilt loving you. Only then can you judge me.”
She walked towards him, with no hint of the thrilling, unconscious seductiveness that always left him tingling. She looked like a woman hell-bent on holding nothing back.
“You won’t want to hear this,” she said in a low, perfectly steady voice, taking the armchair beside him. “And to tell it will only cause me pain and humiliation. But it must be said. I was an abused wife. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The ugly truth. I don’t want to talk about it at all, but I must. You need to understand what drove me to break my vows.
“The vows were meaningless. Colin turned his back on them the same day we made them. The abuse began on my honeymoon and continued for almost a year. Finally I found the courage to escape and come here. I felt so battered I’d almost resigned myself to a life on the run.
“You might say I should have gone for help. Once I went to a friend, but Colin persuaded her I was the one having problems. He’s super-convincing. I could have gone to lawyers. But wherever I went I knew he was going to find me. He’s been concentrating his attentions on my mother in New Zealand, certain she’s helping me hide. But he’s not giving up. Until I confront him I’ll never have any peace of mind.”
It was the easiest thing in the world to change one’s appearance, he thought, lightly fingering his dark moustache into position. He thought he actually looked better with dark hair. It made for a startling contrast with his eyes. Of course he’d had to mask his natural elegance. He wore the Outback tourist’s ordinary gear. Bush shirt, jeans, high boots, warm coat for the evenings.
He smiled to himself every time he put on his black akubra, which he’d punched into well-worn shape. People might have remarked on his skin colour, which was pale, so he’d invested in some fake tan. He sure as hell was handsome with smoothly polished gold skin. But he had to hide these qualities a little, letting his beard grow into a fuzz, pulling the akubra down over his head.
He’d been in town—or rather on the outskirts of town—in a caravan park for two days. His dark blue Mercedes was in the garage at home. He was driving around in a dusty four-wheel drive, the tyres caked in red mud. It looked a bit on the battered side, which was what he wanted, but it was in tip-top condition. If they had to get away he had to do it right.
He knew where they’d been. According to the information he had received Ayers Rock. How absurd. He’d never thought Laura the type to go bush. He knew they were home. He knew where they lived. God, could you believe it? Side by side.
He’d driven past—fairly fast the first time. Some old girl had been coming out of the front door, probably taking care of the place in Laura’s absence. The second, he’d taken his time. So his darling pampered wife had rejected his state-of-the-art home for some pitiful worker’s cottage that looked more like a doll’s house? God, it had made him so angry he’d had to stop and massage his temples.
At least the private investigator he’d sent out here had done a good job. He’d found out more than where they lived. Something unexpected. The guy’s name. Amazing what one could learn from a photograph. Evan Kellerman, not Evan Thompson as the town knew him. And his darling little unfaithful wife. Laura Graham. He’d only just recently discovered Laura’s mother’s maiden name.
He had succeeded in getting a ticket for a concert they were giving tonight. How many top-flight foreign correspondents—and apparently Kellerman had made quite a reputation for himself—also played the bloody cello? Now, wasn’t that too richly bizarre? They must have had wonderful musical evenings together.
He knew he was taking a bit of a risk, going to the concert, but he couldn’t sit calmly back at the caravan park, slumming it while his wife and her lover were part of a concert in the town. Not that he would hear the music! But it would be fun watching them.
His face abruptly twisted itself into fury. No way was Laura getting away with it. She’d never run from him again.
The concert was going to be very successful. Apparently the whole bloody town had turned out. It was as crowded as an opening night at a city theatre. Surely they couldn’t actually be interested in classical music? Beethoven. Schubert. And something else on the programme. A local guy. Alex Matheson.
That’d be good, he thought with weary contempt. He didn’t care. This lot were just making the best of what was on offer. He hunched himself in a back seat, all nerves and quivering anger. People glanced at him. After a while he remembered he ought to nod and maybe give a smile here and there.
An hour and a half passed, during which his stomach churned so much he felt like rushing out of the theatre and being ill. The old girl he’d seen at the house was one of the quintet. And treacherous Laura, looking absolutely beautiful in a long black skirt of ribboned lace with one of her glittering little tops, sat at the piano, fingers running up and down with brilliance, full of music.
Damn her! Pulses were beating a rhythm in his head like one of those old military band marches. He turned his attention again to Kellerman. Big guy. He looked as if he’d have bone-crushing strength. Until this moment he’d thought playing a musical instrument wasn’t manly, but this guy laid that idea to rest. He was damned good. The whole ensemble was damned good. He had expected the recital to be pathetic.
Before the deafening applause was over he got quickly away. He’d left his vehicle in a side street. He felt stupid. Almost bested. Badly shaken by what he had seen and heard. He had a career. A reputation. His peers considered him brilliant. There was no place in his life for violence. Except he wanted Laura back.
Harriet had organised the supper—marvellous food—everyone was on a high, enjoying themselves immensely, mixing with all the locals who had been invited.
“I feel so much like celebrating!” Harriet cried warmly, her manner so vivacious she might have received a light electric shock. She put an affectionate arm around Laura’s waist. “We’re so proud of you, Laura. It isn’t always easy settling into a group, but you’ve done wonderfully well. So in possession of your instrument, and such a lovely touch! I think we did extremely well. So does the audience, apparently. I take it you’ve told Evan about you know who?” she whispered, leaning her head closer.
“I have.” Laura smiled.
“How did he take it? Forgive me for being an old busy-body, but I have to know.”
“He was appalled, Harriet. First of all that I had a husband. But then when I told him all about the ruins of my marriage he forgave me. He’s determined to go to Brisbane and confront Colin. I can’t stop him. He won’t listen and he insists he doesn’t want me there. At first anyway.”
“Probably he’s got a point,” Harriet considered.
“I’ll be starting divorce proceedings as soon as possible after that.”
“And marrying Evan, my dear?” Harriet’s grey eyes were full of sympathy and interest. “Seeing you both together, I can’t believe it’s just an affair.”
“I love him, Harriet, and he loves me.”
“The most beautiful words in the world. You both have to get on with your lives.”
“I don’t want you to go in the morning.” They were inside the house and she was speaking very softly, almost whispering.
“We’ve discussed this, Laura,” he said firmly, picking her up in his arms and carrying her through to the bedroom.
“I don’t want you to go on your own.”
“And I don’t want you there, my darling, when I confront him. You’ll have your turn. I’d like to see to Dr Colin Morcombe privately. It’s one thing to terrorize a woman, and quite another to try the same tactics on a man. I’d be quite happy to slap him around a bit so he knows how it feels.”
“He certainly needs it, but that might rebound on you in some way. He’s very vindictive. He’d say and do almost anything to cause you harm.”
“We’ll see about that,” Evan said grimly.
“You might find it difficult to reach him. He has people fronting for him. Staff.”
“You just leave that to me,” Evan said, fiercely despising the man Laura had married. “For now I want to make love to you. Okay?”
“Perfect. I’m terribly terribly sorry I married Colin. I only want you.”
“That’s why I have to get things settled,” he said, gently starting to undress her. “What sort of a man is he to willingly and brutally abuse you? A doctor too. It’s beyond imagining. I don’t fancy he’ll want the story to get around, or people wondering where he got his black eye.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“My darling, I’m going to make him perfectly well aware of what might happen to him if he dares approach you again,” Evan said, very crisply.
He reached out a hand to caress her—just a brush of the skin, yet it sent desire rippling all over her.
This was Evan’s great gift to her. This wonderful sense of herself as a woman.