Daniel's Bride (10 page)

She took the glass with thanks. “I stood up too fast, that’s
all.”

He looked relieved, as if one sick person on his hands was
enough.

“Too much excitement for one day,” he remarked. “I should
have insisted you stay back at the apartment and let you have more time to
adjust. We’ll leave soon but I need to have a quick word with my grandfather
before we head away.” He hesitated and concern shimmered in his eyes. “Are you
sure you’re okay?”

She smiled. “Positive.”

He gave her a curt nod, but already his mind was focused on
his grandfather. Sir Arthur was being helped back into bed now, and Mel looked
hastily away to give him privacy. She looked back out the window, at the view
of the Harbor Bridge peeking between the trees. She’d driven through Vaucluse a
few times, but she’d never stopped off. She’d never known anyone who lived
here. And here she was.

She forced herself to breathe. Her life had changed over the
last forty-eight hours in ways she could never have planned for, and she just
needed to keep a handle on it. To stay sane. To remind herself that at the end
of it, she could help her mother out more than either of them could ever have
dreamt.

She just had to keep her attraction to Daniel under lock and
key because the last thing she needed was to develop real feelings for him. She
did not need her degree in psychology to know that loving a man like Daniel
Christie, with his background, his family, his responsibility – well, she’d
seen the fallout from lesser pressures in her practicum, and later, working in
the field. The vista in front of her began to blur and she knew that if anyone
was going to get hurt at the other end, the odds are it was going to be her.

Daniel watched Mel move sliced chicken around on her plate.
She made no effort to eat. She hadn’t been the same person, the same Mel, since
they’d arrived home. The last thing he wanted was to endure silence like this
night after night for the next few months. He set his fork down on his plate
with exasperation. When it was just himself, he welcomed silence, welcomed the
peace it gave to deal with his thoughts. But if dinner was going to be like
this every damned night, he’d take to eating out or staying even later at work
than endure this kind of torture. Because there wasn’t just silence in the
room, there was tension and he hated this kind of tension. He barely remembered
his mother but he remembered the silences between her and his father.
Remembered how awful and confusing it had been.

Although, he acknowledged, right now he only had himself to
blame. He watched her dissect a sliver of chicken breast. Had they made a
shockingly bad mistake? Was this all going to go to hell in a hand basket? She
finally took a mouthful of chicken, glanced up, caught him watching, and
swallowed.

No. He stabbed his potato, cooked expertly, as usual, by
Patsy. Mel had panned out in every way possible. Hugh’s checking had been
exhaustive and she had every incentive to keep up her end of the bargain – for
whatever reason. What she did after their marriage was terminated, he couldn’t
care less about. Although he couldn’t help speculating. He watched as she
stabbed a single pea. The pea bounced off the fork, and she had another go at
impaling it. Would she travel, buy a new car, splurge the lot on high fashion,
start a business?

The confidentiality clause in the agreement meant that neither
of them would discuss the marriage once it was over. A marriage terminated in
six months’ time was not going to affect him, anyhow, and if word did escape,
he couldn’t give a damn what a few gossip rags thought. Over-eager journalists
chasing hack stardom could do nothing to damage him or his family. They were
married and she was living here, in his apartment.

He glanced at her again, looked really hard. Her mouth was
chewing with painful slowness. Her forehead creased in a frown. His gaze
slipped to her neck, to the gold pendant settled there, to the hint of creamy
skin, of her breasts.

A sudden urge to know what that soft skin felt like, tasted
like, hit him so strong, he quickly swallowed his wine.
No.
Not thinking
like that, Christie. You were thinking about Mel’s feelings. How she was the
one who was most likely to suffer when all this was over.

A proverb flashed in to his mind, one his grandfather had
repeated often until it had been drummed into him. It had been inscribed on the
gravestone of William Percy Christie. The devil finds work for idle hands.

He rubbed his chin, and thought hard. “Why don’t you go
shopping tomorrow?” he suggested finally.

She eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

“Take my credit card. Buy something.” He waved his hand around.
“Stuff. Clothes, shoes. Take a friend. Have lunch. My treat.”

She busied herself with more peas. “Thanks but I’m not
sure.” Finally she set her fork down on the plate, and reached for her water.
“I’ll think about it.”

She was turning down shopping? His respect for her took a
giant leap but then a thought struck him. “Mel, you do have friends. Don’t
you?”

A shadow darkened her face. “I have let some things slide,”
she admitted. “My life was my job and my mother. My best friend was my
flatmate, and of course there was Max.” She looked straight at him, challenge
in her eyes, her jaw lifted in defiance. “It’s a little hard to say hi to your
old work colleagues, your old life, when you’ve been humiliated in front of
them.”

He rose to his feet, grabbed his wallet from his jacket
pocket and handed her a credit card. He scribbled the pin number for her. “Go
anyway. Use this. Have some fun.”

She stared at the gold card. “I can’t spend your money.”

“Well, not all of it,” he agreed.

“I feel like a kept woman.”

“You are a kept woman, in case you haven’t noticed.”

She stared at the card. “What’s the limit on this?”

“I have no idea. I rarely use it. Just know that anything
you spend on it won’t affect the payment at the end. That amount we agreed to
stands.” He paused. “This is because you have made my grandfather happy in such
a short period of time.” Her expression was of scepticism but also of sympathy.
Might as well lay it all out on the line, Christie. “That means something to
me. It means everything to me.”

Shit.
His voice was starting to choke up and she was
looking at him with suspicion. Did she think he was making this all up? He
cleared his throat and handed her the pin number. “So thank you, Mel.” He stood
taller. “That’s it. Just – thank you.”

Daniel stepped in the front door at seven o’clock the
following night, and Mel held her breath as he dropped his keys on the counter,
spoke briefly with Patsy while she finished up dinner, and walked through to
the lounge. He stopped straight in his tracks and stared. For a moment, he went
as still as a statue. Then he reached up and massaged his forehead in round
circles. “What the hell is this?”

Mel took the pins out of her mouth as she smoothed out the
fabric in front of her. She’d expected this reaction. He was a man who said,
“Do this,” even if he included the word “please” with it, but then had a fit
when you put your own spin on it.

“It’s a quilt,” she told him.

“For a bed?” He came further in, stood beside her, so close
she detected his scent. Did he shower midday? He had to, to smell this good.
“Why is it on the table?”

“I need the space.”

“How are we meant to eat?” She followed his gaze back to the
kitchen where Patsy was stirring sauce. Patsy had told her, after she had
outlined Mr Christie’s ‘routine’, that she did not want to be around when her
boss saw the mess. He’d had the routine for the five years she’d been working
for him. Mr Christie came in, took his evening shower, and read any paper or
magazines before he had his dinner.

Daniel glanced at the sewing machine. “I thought patchwork
was done by hand.”

“That’s the Amish. We modern girls have electricity.”

He held up both hands as if he couldn’t take any more. “I’m
going to take a shower.”

She waited for him to leave, but he lingered a moment, and
handled some red and blue squares. “Isn’t it easier just to buy one of these?”

“Easier. Yes. But not as much fun. I’m making it for my
mother, she’ll love it. Anyhow, I’ve finished for the day.” Even though she
didn’t want to be. She’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed this, had loved the
choosing of the fabric, dreaming up how she was going to put together the
pattern, what style to use, spending hours in stores like the shops she’d
discovered today. She began to pack up the material. “And the fact is I have
nothing to do, Daniel. I’ll go crazy if I don’t do something and this is
something I used to really enjoy.”

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and she said, “It’s a
hobby.”

She almost added in a low voice, “You do know what a hobby
is, don’t you?” as he clearly had none. She went on, “I found a fabric shop at
Bondi Junction when I went down there today.”

“Sounds like fun,” he muttered on a shudder.

His sarcasm irked her. “It was.” She’d spent an hour in an Italian
café flicking through the magazines she’d bought, then another hour in the shop
choosing fat squares for the quilt.

And now Mel had time. For the next few months, she had all
the time in the world.

Daniel dropped the fabric and straightened. “Right. Well,
I’m just going.” He stared at the mass of fabric in the table. “I’m going to
have my shower. Mel, perhaps it might be more convenient to turn the spare
bedroom into a hobby room.”

She feigned surprise. She’d checked it out an hour ago and
had already worked out where she could put a table and the sewing machine.

“That would work wonderfully.” She managed a smile.

He dragged his gaze away from the mess on the table. “I’ll
see you in half an hour for dinner.”

He went down the hall, and she heard his door open and
close.

She began to pack up the sewing machine, and paused to slide
her palms over the shiny brand new exterior. Her old machine was packed in the
storage unit but this was a far better make and model. She was in love with it
already.

The irony of it didn’t escape her. Here she was, a woman in
her twenties, married to one of the hottest bachelors in Australia, and she was
planning to spend her days sewing up patchwork quilts.

If she wasn’t living it, she would never, ever have believed
it.   

The first few weeks sped by with Daniel spending most of his
time at the office or at his grandfather’s house. Mel spent time at Sir
Arthur’s as well. Every few days she drove over to visit him, and she quickly
developed a rapport with him, with his staff, and even with his terrier,
Barnaby. She visited her mother every few days, and seeing Ellie kept her new
life in perspective.

It was a blessing, this chance to get her finances together
– Mel knew that. There was no hardship involved in life with Daniel, except
trying not to talk too much about him to Ellie. She’d explained to her that she
had a temporary live-in job which Ellie had accepted, and even to Mel’s ears it
sounded perfectly acceptable. In fact, whichever way you looked at it, it was
the truth, but even so, she had to be careful. One time she had started to tell
Ellie about Barnaby chasing a tennis ball around the grounds and her mother had
frowned and asked, “Who on earth is Barnaby?”

“Daniel’s grandfather’s dog,” Mel said without thinking.

You know your boss’s grandfather’s dog?” Ellie had
questioned.

“Ummm.” Mel had buttered the date scone she’d heated in the
microwave, and set it next to the teacup. “Daniel – Mr Christie – needed some
help so I went with him.”

“I see,” Ellie said without conviction and Mel had changed
the subject. There was no point digging a deeper whole. But it was hard when a
big part of her had been so used to sharing her life with Ellie. Now the
sharing was censored to a degree that was becoming more and more difficult to
maintain.

Because she was lying.

Mel recalled this as she unpicked some skewif sewing from
the quilt. She hadn’t been concentrating and now she had her work cut out for
her.

She heard movement from the doorway and glanced up to see
Daniel in the doorway.

“I’m heading up to Queensland tomorrow for a business trip,”
he said. “I’ll be back Friday.”

“Queensland? Ouch.” Mel rubbed her finger on her thigh where
she’d just pricked it. “I seem to recall something about a trip to Queensland
when I was working in your office but I’m sure it was closer to Christmas.”

Daniel leant against the door jamb, surveyed the chaos and
looked quickly back at Mel. “Yes, it was for the end of the year, but there’s
been a change of plan and Nora has re-scheduled my meetings for the end of the
week.”

So he’d be away for a few days. She’d miss his presence in
the house. “I hope it’s a very successful trip.” A thought crossed her mind and
refused to budge. What if he was planning to meet a girlfriend, a lover?

Daniel sighed suddenly. “Listen, Mel.” He scratched his chin
for a long moment. “I can’t believe I’m asking this but –” He folded his arms
against his chest. “Would you like to come along?”

She blinked, stared at him. He looked as if he’d rather pull
teeth without anaesthetic. His own teeth.

“You’re asking if I want to come with you on this trip to
Queensland?”

“Maybe you need to get away from all this.” He waved his
hands around. “From all this patchwork.”

Anticipation began to grow in her chest. It was a trial not
to shriek out, Heck yeah. “How long will it be for?”

“Two nights. A great hotel. Our own suites,” he clarified
hastily. “And the weather forecast is looking very good. That is, if you want
to go.”