IT WAS close on a fortnight later before Josh called in on his mentor. Gossip in the town had been rife after the incident with Clio at the gala function. People talked endlessly and breathlessly at dinner parties, in the streets, over back fences. One kiss, it seemed, had created a sensation. All allowances had been made for Clio. He was the one who had overstepped the mark. Big time. Certainly he had acted under compulsion and paid for it. He couldn’t get that kiss out of his mind. The best strategy seemed to him to stay away from the house.
Meg Palmer, the housekeeper, greeted him at the door. “Josh!” She embraced him briefly, then let him go. Never pushed it. It saddened her greatly to know Josh Hart as a boy had had little contact with warmth and affection and the gentling effect of a woman’s touch. Meg was a short, sturdy woman of robust good health, with twinkling hazel eyes and a shock of soft iron-grey curls.
“How’s business?” She looked him up and down with pleasure. She well remembered how desperately unhappy and out of control Josh had been as a boy. But hadn’t he grown! These days he was a man of achievements. Meg felt as proud of Josh as his mentor, Leo, did.
“I do the best I can, Meg.” Josh bestowed on her one of his beautiful white smiles. He rarely smiled, which was a pity, but he had a dry sense of humour. “How’s Leo today?” No rhetorical question. He was waiting on the answer.
“Really looking forward to your visit,” she assured him. “He’s in the study, waiting. Feel like a cup of coffee?”
“You’ve baked your chocolate brownies?”
“I have indeed.” She caught him by the arm. “You and Miss Clio made up yet?”
He responded with wry humour, not the cold anger most people would have elicited. “Meg you know damned well Clio and I aren’t at any place where we make up.”
“I know nothing of the kind.” Meg searched his eyes. “You’re as good as anyone. Better!”
“Ah, Meg,” he groaned. “Not everyone is like you.”
“Too true!” Meg laughed to lighten things up. “Trust me, Josh,” she added very gently as he moved off to the study. Meg had heard all the gossip about that sizzling kiss but she had the good sense not to mention it.
Josh gave her a backward wave, but didn’t answer. At sixty, Meg still believed in fairy-tales.
Approaching his seventh-fifth year, up until fairly recent times Leo Templeton could easily have passed for a man ten years younger. Now there were visible signs of ageing, worsening osteoporosis and general ill health. It hurt Josh to bear witness to Leo’s decline. Leo may have slowed down physically, but nothing was going to slow his brain. Leo turned from looking out through the open French doors that led onto the rose garden to greet his protégée.
“Josh, my boy!”
“Please don’t get up.” Josh moved towards the regal silver-haired man. He put his hands on the back of Leo’s big swivel armchair, pushing it back in front of his desk. Obviously Leo hadn’t experienced the full heat of the gossip or he had elected to ignore it as a bizarre aberration. His manner was the same as ever.
Leo’s study was a huge room, dominated by walls of floor-to-ceiling bookcases containing a vast assortment of literature—law books galore, biographies, histories, great fiction, popular fiction, the best in crime, courtroom dramas, thrillers. You name it, Leo had it in his bookcases. He knew because he had borrowed very many a book. There was a burgundy leather sofa and a pair of matching leather armchairs; a good-sized coffee table where Meg could set out tea, coffee and accompaniments.
“Thank you, Josh. I’m so pleased to see you. I’ve been missing our conversations. There was some talk you were out of town?” In truth Leo felt near starved of the stimulation he felt in his protégée’s company. Of course he knew better than anyone of the bond between Clio and Josh but he had long since acted on it. Much as he admired Josh, his chances of ever getting close to his beautiful granddaughter were very slim indeed. Regretfully, he couldn’t countenance Josh Hart as a suitor for all his brilliance. He knew nothing of Josh’s bloodline—the single mother’s drug overdose was bad, father unknown, no history—so he had to be rejected.
“Just scouting around,” Josh said, taking his usual armchair facing his mentor.
“So what’s in the briefcase?” Leo’s lined face was alight with interest. Josh and his endeavours were keeping him alive.
Josh began to unzip the large black case. “I have some plans here for Aquarius.” He named the beautiful tropical island Leo had bought many years before. “We did talk briefly about it some months back, remember?’
Leo nodded. “I had a notion this was coming.” Josh was always brimming with ideas, projects, plans. He was immensely talented and energetic. Just like he himself had once been. Every last one of the young man’s projects for which he, as Josh’s mentor, had laid out a lot of capital had paid off big time. So young to be so successful! So young to make a sizeable fortune! Josh reminded him of himself. He had long since faced the fact his son, Lyle, who stood to inherit, so much didn’t have a head for business. Sometimes it didn’t work out so well for heirs when their forebears were the ones who had made all the money.
While Leo ruminated, Josh was busy pulling out maps, blueprints, architectural drawings, floor plans. He set them on the desk. “I think it’s time for a resort complex on the island, Leo. A resort where guests can swim, sail, scuba dive, snorkel in protected waters. I have an architectural sketch here for a marina and yacht club I’d like to show you. People could sail over from the mainland and drop anchor. The other side of the island would house solar water-purification facilities among other things. We could build a splendid villa for the use of the family plus other luxury villas hidden away in the grounds for well-heeled overseas tourists.”
“Not a bit ambitious?” Leo questioned, chewing at his bottom lip.
“I don’t think so, Leo. Hear me out. I’ve done all the figures, checked out government requirements. But I do need your interest and approval. It’s your island after all. But, as we agreed, it’s just sitting there. If you don’t think it advisable at this time, the project will go on hold. Until you do!” Josh suddenly laughed.
Such an attractive sound, Leo thought. Josh had taken a long time to let down his guard. But eventually it had happened. Their minds met. At least their business minds. “Then come round and spread it all out before me.” Leo began to clear papers from his massive mahogany desk, shoving them into a drawer.
“You won’t regret this, Leo.” Josh was already on his feet, a number of wound-up rolls in his hands.
Driving towards the family home, Lyle Templeton thought it had been years since he’d had a real conversation with his father. He intended to have that conversation tonight. Not that there had been any estrangement as such, but things had been very different after his beloved Allegra’s tragic death. Allegra had been the glue that had held father and son together. Leo had made no effort to hide the fact he disliked and distrusted Keeley right from the beginning. He had been very much against the marriage, openly questioning whether his son was, in fact, the father of Keeley’s mystery baby. Now no one would ever know. Keeley had lost the child. Either she was one of the world’s finest actresses or she had suffered genuine grief. As had he. So he had not only lost a second child, he had lost his beloved Clio. Clio had simply not wanted to stay in the house with Keeley. She had gone to live with Leo, who had welcomed her with wide-open arms. It was as though Allegra had returned.
Of late his father’s health had been on the decline. They all saw that. The threat to family had come not from Keeley, who didn’t rate, but from the youngster, Josh Hart. Leo had sponsored the boy’s education, private school through university, doling out huge sums of money to partner the young entrepreneur Hart eventually became. Not that Hart wasn’t brilliant—he hadn’t put a foot wrong—but Lyle truly felt he had been relegated to third place in his father’s life. Josh Hart had his father’s ear, and mind, worse, his heart. Not him. His father didn’t need him any more. He had Josh Hart. And another terrible worry had taken hold. For years hostile to the young man, hostility had increased to a pervading fear.
Hart had ambitions to take his beautiful daughter.
Hart was dangerous. He always had been. Bad blood.
Hart’s Porsche was parked in the drive. He’d been reliably told Hart was looking at some property further north. Lyle would have found out he was back had he rung ahead to say he was coming, but he had wanted his visit to be in the nature of a pleasant surprise. Hart had beaten him to it. Thank God Clio wasn’t at home. One night a month she had dinner with Lisa and the family. Lisa was another one blind to any character flaws in Josh Hart. She thought the world of him. Hart had saved baby Ella’s life.
To his surprise Lyle found the front door open. He called, “Hello,” but received no reply. He stood for a few minutes, frowning. He fully expected Mrs Palmer to rush to the entrance, an apology on her lips. She really should have been on hand. He moved further down the hall, becoming aware of raised voices. They were coming from his father’s study. Both voices were recognisable. Something was the matter. He was abruptly furious. Joshua Hart was in the house. The very idea put him on extreme edge.
When he arrived outside the open study door, he was shocked to see his father lying flat on the floor, his striped blue and white cotton shirt open. Hart was on his knees, leaning over him, pressing down on Leo’s chest with both hands. Mrs Palmer was standing nearby, her face ashen, her hands clasped as if in prayer.
“What the devil is going on here?” Anger engulfed him. He was shouting, he was so perturbed. Losing Allegra had almost sent him stark raving mad, now his father?
No one answered him. He may not have been there. “Is Dad having a heart attack?”
Belatedly Mrs Palmer found her voice. “I’m so sorry, Mr Lyle. I’ve called the emergency number. Paramedics are on the way.”
“So what the hell is Hart doing? Shouldn’t he be leaving my father well alone until they arrive?”
“Mr Leo was unconscious,” Meg Palmer explained, feeling acute pity for Lyle. “He wasn’t breathing. Josh has the training. CPR is a lifesaving technique. Think about it, now, Mr Lyle.” Lyle Templeton looked like he wanted to order Josh out of the house.
“I’m thinking about what caused it,” Lyle choked. “Did Dad and Hart get into some kind of an argument? What are all those rolls on Dad’s desk? They look like architectural drawings to me. One of Hart’s schemes, trying to involve my father.”
“That’s the ambulance now, Meg.” Hart looked up from exhaling breath into Leo’s slack mouth. He ignored Lyle entirely.
“I’ll let them in.”
“The damned door is open,” Lyle exploded. “I need some explanations here.”
He wasn’t about to get one from Josh Hart.
Clio took the call on her mobile, even though they had started dinner. It had to be an emergency. It was her father, telling her to return home immediately. “It’s your grandfather,” he said, breaking into a harsh sob. Then he hung up without another word.
She made it home in record time, risking being caught for speeding. Leo had been taken ill. That much was certain. She arrived at the mansion just as the ambulance, presumably with Leo on board, turned out onto the road. For one mad moment she considered flagging them down and then thought better of it. Gravel spewed from the tyres as she pulled right to the base of the short fight of steps that led to the house.
Her father met her at the door, anger in his voice such as she had never heard before. “Hart is here.”
“Yes, I saw his Porsche.” She wasn’t aware Josh was back in town. Josh moved around a lot, scouting out land for future development. There was the possibility too he had wanted to stay clear of all the gossip that had engulfed them. Who could blame him? “Tell me quickly. What’s happened? I almost ran into the ambulance.”
“They’re taking Dad to the hospital for expert attention. Not Hart’s. He’s not saying much other than Dad had a heart attack, but my suspicion is he and Dad were having a furious argument. From what I can make out, Hart wants to take over Aquarius. Build some sort of a tourist complex. Dad has never wanted that.”
That was certainly true. Leo had owned the island for many years but had never done anything with it. “I suggest you take it easy, Dad,” Clio said, knowing her father was not the man he had once been. “This is all supposition. Where is Josh? And Meg? Meg will know. We need to get to the hospital.”
Her father gave an enraged snort. “You know as well as I do, Clio, that Mrs Palmer dotes on that dangerous young man. She’d say anything to cover for him.”
“Please, Dad.” Clio’s face twisted in pain and grief. “Let’s establish the facts before you go off on Josh.” She broke away from her father’s trembling arms, hurrying towards her grandfather’s study.
She found Josh and Meg sitting in total silence at the outdoor setting a few feet from Leo’s study. Both stood up as she all but flew through the French doors, followed by her father. Meg went to her, tears glittering in her eyes. Josh stood back, as inscrutable as ever.
Always the quickening pulse, the electric buzz in her presence. Even at this gut-wrenching time with worry about Leo.
There was a gentleness to Clio’s voice as she took Meg into a comforting hug. “What happened?” At the same time she looked over Meg’s cloud of fluffy curls to Josh. He stood tall and aloof.
“Mr Leo and Josh were having a conference,” Meg said in a shaky voice. “I’d served them coffee. Some time later I heard Josh yell to me to call for an ambulance. Mr Leo had collapsed. I wasted no time, Clio,” she assured Clio defensively. “The ambulance arrived a short time after your father. A paramedic took over from Josh, who’d been giving your grandfather CPR. Mr Leo appeared to regain consciousness, and they rushed him off.”
“That’s your account of it, is it?” Lyle turned almost violently on the trembling Meg. It was obvious he was getting into serious stride. “That young man over there has a criminal record.”
“Oh, Dad, shut it!” Clio said. “Josh does not have a criminal record.”
“Well, it’s a far from commendable one,” Lyle said, his feelings running out of control.
Josh moved, six feet three of leashed power. “I’ll go,” he said, addressing Clio for the first time. “You don’t want me here.”
“You’re so right about that!” Lyle was back to shouting, eyeing the young man with great disdain. “I’d be very happy not to see you again. And don’t go taking your papers with you. I need to go into this matter more fully.” “Well, you do have a history of mistrusting me.” Josh moved into the study in such a way the older man fell back. Hart’s height and physical grace only served to make him seem even more dangerous. “The bad kid is the bad man?” Josh queried ironically. “Or is it the old adage that a savage is a savage is a savage right?”
“Absolutely.” Lyle watched impotently as Josh collected his papers and shoved them into a big black briefcase.
“I’m sorry, Clio,” Josh said, preparing to leave. He could see her acute distress. Her golden skin had a distinct pallor and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. Nothing he could do about it. His feelings for her, his fantasy life with her, especially since that kiss, were now completely out of hand. He should never have kissed her. That had been sheer madness. Her father’s hostility towards him, always in evidence, had escalated to hatred. “Leo’s bad turn came right out of the blue.”
“So you say!” Lyle broke in furiously. His memory too was seared by that kiss his beautiful daughter and Hart had shared. To his stunned eyes it had looked devastatingly passionate.
“Please, Dad.” Clio held up a hand. “You’re not even giving Josh a chance to speak.”
“Trouble comes naturally to Josh Hart.” Lyle was shocked by his own attack but unable to contain it.
“I’ll come to the car with you, Josh.” Clio turned back to speak to Meg. “Sit down before you fall down, Meg. I’ll make some tea when I come back. Then we should go to the hospital.”
Meg drew a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll make the tea, love. You go with Josh.”
“Listen, Clio…” Her father tried to detain her.
“You listen, Dad. I’m not a child. I’m twenty-four years of age. I pick my own friends. You can’t run my life.”
“No need to speak to me like that, Clio,” Lyle protested, deeply hurt and doubly enraged his daughter should take Hart’s side. It was unforgivable.
“I’ll be back, Dad,” she promised by way of consolation.
They were out in the warm night with the golden moon of the tropics hanging low. They walked towards Josh’s Porsche. Or rather Josh was striding purposefully while she was at a near run to keep up. “Go back inside, Clio,” he said, his voice a taut order.
“Didn’t you hear me? I pick my own friends,” she told him with a spurt of anger.
Josh used the remote button to unlock his car. “Only we’re not friends, Clio, are we?” His fine white teeth gritted. “Leo set the rules long ago. I’m supposed to respect you, Clio. Keep my distance. It was made very plain to me without any need for words you were off limits to the likes of me. I was not to make the slightest attempt to get close to the Templeton heiress or I would be cut adrift. Leo has his ruthless streak.”
“Well, then, you made a monumental mistake kissing me, didn’t you?” There was a world of frustrated challenge in her voice. How many dozen times a day had she relived those wildly tempestuous moments? “God knows, it’s been the talk of the town even if my grandfather elected not to talk to me about it.”
Josh responded, “Leo has his reasons for everything. He chose to ignore the gossip as the best strategy. He didn’t mention anything to me either. That would make too much of it. The incident has been brushed under the carpet where it belongs, not brought out into the open. That’s Leo’s way.”
“Okay, so I recognize it.”
“So can you recognize also that I’ve had a hard time with my loss of control?” How could he say that when his feelings for her ran at full throttle?
“God knows, it’s rare enough!” she commented with some sharpness. “What happened tonight, Josh?” she asked, her voice strained. “Was there an argument? Did Leo become upset? Those plans in there, were they for a development on Aquarius?”
“They are,” he clipped off in a deadly quiet tone.
“And Leo wanted to see them and hear your proposal?” she asked, perplexed. “Leo has long been against tourist development. We all know that. It’s just as Dad said.”
The full moon revealed the tension on his strongly sculpted face. “Maybe, unlike you, Clio,” he said cuttingly, “Leo believed in me. He believed I could bring the right sort of project off. Now we know your thoughts and your father’s on the subject, you really should go back inside.”
He was staring down at her in his imperious fashion. “Excuse me, I live here,” she reminded him, as on edge as he was.
“Of course you do,” he agreed tonelessly. “All the more reason for you to go inside. I’m in no doubt that if Leo dies I’ll be an exile from this house. Not that I’ve ever been a welcome guest. I couldn’t possibly make that transition. I know how much you and your father love Leo. I feel deeply sorry for you both, but I should prepare you for possible bad news. Leo may not survive. If his brain has sustained damage, he wouldn’t want to survive. He was unconscious. Not breathing. I administered CPR and kept at it until the medics arrived. End of story. And another piece of advice—it might be best for you if you stay away from me, Clio. Contact only brings grief. Go back into the house now. I’m sure you want to get to the hospital.”
She went. She dared not stay a moment longer before she beat out her sense of utter helplessness and frustration against the steely wall of his chest.
The richest man in town had died; so rich even the rich called him rich. Accordingly almost the entire township turned out to lay Leo Templeton to rest. It poured with rain yet most people elected to attend the graveside service when Clio wouldn’t have blamed anyone for not wanting to stand in the heavy rain. As it happened, just about everyone did, except for those well on in years. People were not only determined to pay their last respects, they had to be seen to be doing it. Leo had died in the ambulance on his way to hospital from his massive heart attack.
Most people would take their leave, but family and close friends had been invited back to the house. The same sad old ritual. The gathering. The eating, drinking, even the subdued laughter. It didn’t seem appropriate to Clio. She hadn’t cried through the service. Bizarrely she had to fight back a laugh because the mourners in their black clothes with raised black umbrellas put her in mind of colonies of tropical fruit bats. Part hysteria, she knew. Anyway, she did her crying in private. Stoic in adversity. It could have been the Templeton mantra. Not that there had been much in the way of financial adversity. But clearly money wasn’t everything. The rich couldn’t escape the dying of the light any more than the poor, though the funerals of the rich usually drew much bigger crowds.
Directly opposite, the Crowley family had turned out in force. Old Paddy Crowley was suited up like Darth Vader. Vince and Jimmy were making a ridiculous show of sadness. Real tears welled up in poor Susan’s eyes. When she could, she was going to have to do something about Susan Crowley’s situation. Women’s affairs, the family courts, had always interested her. She had spent enough time in the backwaters of Templetons. She had to take the plunge into real life. Even deeply distressed, she couldn’t help the flare-up of irritation at the way Jimmy kept staring at her. Funny how she despised Jimmy yet she liked and felt sorry for him at the same time. The Crowleys had to be mad to cling to the idea she and Jimmy would make a match of it. That was well and truly burying one’s head in the sand.
It was impossible to miss Josh, even though he stood well back in the crowd. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. He wore an expensive black raincoat over his clothes. The rain had drenched his blond hair, darkening the colour.
“What’s he doing here?” Lyle demanded angrily of his daughter, as everyone began to head for their cars. The tension in him was so palpable it hung around them like a cloud. “I tell you I won’t have it,” he declared, hostile even in deep distress. “He killed Dad. You know it. I know it. The town knows it.”
Clio bit her lip until a speck of blood appeared. “Only because you let the rumour get started, Dad,” she said, feeling tremendous shame. “I never would have believed my own dear father could be so vindictive. Josh Hart has never hurt you. He saved Ella’s life. We simply don’t know what happened. I think it highly unlikely Josh would have persisted in trying to sell any project to Leo he was against. That wouldn’t have happened. We both knew Leo. Usually he and Josh were of one mind. If anyone could have swung it with Grandad, it would have been Josh. I think I might ask you why Keeley didn’t come. She didn’t want to get wet?”
Lyle’s expression was mortified. “Keeley wanted to be here but she’s taken Dad’s death unexpectedly hard. I was the one who told her she needn’t come to the graveside service, but she will come to the house.”
“A stellar effort! You don’t know how much joy that gives me, Dad. There was no love lost between Leo and Keeley.” She knew she should have let it slide, but she was so overwrought she didn’t. She had adored her grandfather, even though she had lived with his benign domination. She hadn’t been with him when he’d died. That was a deep grief.
“Why are you saying this now, Clio?” Lyle asked in anguish.
“Sorry, Dad. We’re both terribly upset. People tend to say what they really mean when they’re horrendously upset. Go back to the car. The worst of the rain appears to be over. There’s a chink of blue over there. The sun is breaking through. I want to have a quick word with Josh.”
Lyle lifted his head to the heavens. “Lord, give me strength!” he implored. “I love you, Clio. You’re my only child. I’m only trying to protect you.”
Clio gently touched his arm. “Try protecting yourself, Dad,” she advised, and turned away.
She had to run across the grass, her high heels sinking into the wet turf and hindering her progress. “Josh!” she called out. “Please wait.”
He made her come to him. When she was within a couple of feet of him he moved to take her arm and draw her beneath the shelter of a massive Moreton Bay fig. One of the biggest and most robust trees in the world, its giant roots sprawled over a wide area, its great prop roots supporting the trunk. Josh chose a clear section for them to stand.
“Thank you for coming,” she said breathlessly. Her heart was thrumming. There was a dryness in her throat. He meant so much to her yet he looked so unapproachable, commanding, austere. His blue eyes transfixed her where she stood. She had never ever seen such an intensely focused regard.
“Why would I not?” Josh answered. “Not even your father putting it around town I caused Leo’s death would have prevented me coming. I’m glad Bart McMannus didn’t share his views. A warning you might pass on to your father. He had better keep out of my way. This isn’t a good time for me either.”
The wind blew a little flurry of spent yellow leaves onto his wide shoulders. He left them there. “I’m so sorry, Josh.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Losing my mother all but finished Dad off.”
“Keeley will do the rest,” he stated bluntly.
Clio gave a deep sigh. “It’s always a shock when people reveal aspects of themselves that were never previously there. Dad’s mind has become a little skewed. You have to understand the way Leo thinking the world of you impacted on my father. You weren’t family, but Leo loved you.”
“Nonsense, Clio,” he responded bluntly. “The only person who has ever loved me was my mother. Leo and I shared similar aims and interests. I respected his business acumen greatly. I acknowledge I have a great deal to thank him for. But you could never say he loved me. That’s vastly overstating it.”
“No, it’s not.” She swayed a little shakily. Straight away he reached for her, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. There was great intimacy in the gesture. The air around them turned as electric, as if they were caught in the middle of a severe thunderstorm. “You don’t want to be loved, Josh.” Her gaze was at once compassionate and challenging. “You have plenty of women in the town in love with you.”
“And not one I want.” He abruptly released her, thinking of the flame inside him that would never burn out.
Clio found herself pleading. “Don’t shut me out, Josh.” She felt so sad and lonely it was all she could do not to break down and weep.
If only he would hold me. He was immensely strong.
“Clio, for God’s sake!” For the first time he showed real emotion, as though he had flashed onto her feelings. “I’m trying to discourage you from making a big mistake.”
“Ah, to hell with that!” The words flew from her lips. “What mistake would that be, Josh?”
His sculpted mouth took on a bitter curl. “You know. Better to stick to the noli me tangere policy.” It hurt him terribly to see her beautiful face grow even paler, but he couldn’t possibly expose her to more trauma. She must have found all the gossip about them acutely embarrassing, yet she seemed to think it was okay they become close. Many people in the town thought just the opposite. Not that he gave a damn about them. His only concern was to protect Clio from all harm and spurious gossip. He knew she had an enemy in her stepmother. Keeley wouldn’t think twice about hurting Clio, adding embellishments to all the malicious whispers. The way to protect Clio was for him to conceal his true feelings. Not all that difficult, surely? He had done just that for almost his entire life.
Right versus wrong; love versus hate. He wasn’t sure what it was he felt for Clio. He had precious little experience of what people called love. He only knew he wanted her more than he wanted anything in the world. Was that love? Was love a driving need? Was love immense pleasure in the sight and sound of her? He would do anything to keep her safe. He would punish anyone who hurt her. Was that love? What did he know about love anyway? He knew a great deal about pain and the multiple ways it was inflicted. He knew about suffering and being stoic. He knew about lust, the lust that had been felt for him as a handsome boy. He knew about learning to protect himself. He’d become better than good at that. He knew about losing his only parent before he could possibly look after himself. Love simply hadn’t existed right through the years that had formed him. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to love? Maybe happiness would forever elude him? What he did know was that love came with loss.
Clio looked up at him as he stood there in brooding silence. “What are you thinking about, Josh?” she asked quietly. “What is it you’re looking for?” She continued to stare up at him as though determined to get the truth out of him.
His brow knitted. “I’m looking not to cause you further harm, Clio. If you turn your head, you’ll see quite a few people are staring our way. Your father is standing beside his car, talking to the Crowleys, who really are scumbags. But it seems they’re more acceptable than I am. Old Paddy with his death’s-head grin. How do you stand nice Jimmy never taking his eyes off you? The way I see it, your father is anxious for you to return to the fold. Is he so blind he can’t see what the Crowleys are all about? I might have to exclude Jimmy. He has no real sense of himself. He just does what he’s told.”
“Dad likes to see the best in people,” Clio offered, halfheartedly.
“It’s an easy option.” Josh’s response was cynical. “He condones the likes of the Crowleys, yet he truly believes I’m no good.”
Clio’s brilliant dark eyes flashed. “I think it more likely he believes you too good,” she said spiritedly. “It’s struck me recently that much as I loved Leo and I love my father, both men in my life have demanded total allegiance from me.”
His beautiful mouth twisted. “So you’ve finally figured it out?”
“Do you feel contempt for me?”
“God, no!” he said explosively. He was mad with wanting her.
“I’m glad of that. But I never rebelled, did I? Leo ruled us with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. He had control of you through his trusteeship. You were just a boy and you were required to tread a straight line. You must have had a lot of strength even then to maintain it after you’d virtually run wild. As for me, I’m not finding excuses, but I lost my mother at a critical time. A girl needs her mother. I know you’re very brave, Josh. I know you’ve had to gird yourself in armour to survive. I know we’ve got a bond. I want it to go deeper. I know exactly what I want. I want us to be friends. Don’t let everyone else win, Josh. I’m not nine. I’m a woman now. I intend taking my life into my own two hands.”
“Then you’d better be prepared for a battle,” he said. He looked down into her beautiful face. Her flawless skin was much paler than usual but glowing and dewy in the rain. Little tendrils of her dark hair curled around her temples and wisped out onto her cheeks. “We can’t make this right, Clio. Things have to settle. A lot of people feed on gossip. They’ve had a field day in recent times. I’m so sorry for that. Now they’ve been given the idea I was in some way responsible for Leo’s death.”
Hot tears sprang into her eyes. “Then they’re very bad judges of character.”
“Maybe.” He gazed over her head. “Your dad has grown tired of waiting, it seems. He’s coming towards us. Don’t let him get here, Clio,” he advised. “I’d like to see him hit the turf. But I’d hate you to see it.”
There was a coiled tension in his superbly fit body. She could see it was straining for release. No way was she going to get Josh into trouble. And it could happen. “It’s okay, Josh,” she said swiftly. “I’ll go.” She turned back for a moment, her beautiful eyes so full of sorrow he was desperate to offer whatever comfort he could, but knew he couldn’t. Certainly not here. “I had hoped you’d come back to the house,” she said, “but that’s out of the question?”
“Absolutely.” The dark timbre of his voice was as dry as ash.
She moved on. She had so wanted to give Josh her stamp of approval. She knew Leo had left the family home to her. She was expected to fill it with her children, Templeton descendants. “I’ll give it a little time,” she called back, lifting a hand in farewell.