Heart of the Outback (6 page)

He said nothing. But his eyes acknowledged the hit she had made. It gave her no pleasure to see the recoil in them. The truth was too painful.

“I’m sorry, Gareth,” she said wearily. “Despite our mutual desires, despite what I said, the sheer naked compulsion of the moment, I’m not going to be a convenience for you whenever opportunity arises. It’s too demeaning.”

“You’re right.” He dragged the words out reluctantly. “I’m sorry for misunderstanding, Alida. I’m not good company for you. I see that now. And I’m sorry about that, too. I guess—” his mouth twisted into a grimace of displeasure “—I’ve been totally selfish where you’re concerned. Not thinking of your feelings at all, except in so far as I thought they matched mine.”

She said nothing. It was another painful truth.

He inhaled a deep breath and released it in a long slow sigh. His eyes swept over her, as though imprinting this image of her on his mind. “I guess I could do with a long walk,” he said softly.

“I’ll ring for a taxi,” she offered.

He shook his head. “I’d rather walk.”

He left without bidding her goodnight. Or goodbye.

For a long time Alida stood staring at the door that was shut between them. No hope, she kept telling herself. There never had been any hope. She could have told him about Andy, she supposed, but that would have divided them more. Gareth might have tried to take his son away from her. Or claimed visiting rights. It would have been totally divisive. And there was Andy to consider, as well. Impossible to know how he would have reacted.

No, she had done the right thing. It was easier on everyone if she and Gareth kept apart. If she was unfit to be considered as a possible partner in his life, he would probably think she was unfit to be the mother of his son.

Andy was hers. All hers. Gareth had his daughter, who was all his. That was how it was. That was how it would stay. This feeling of death—it would pass. Everything passed in time.

The night was bright with stars but Gareth didn’t see them. He felt numb and frustrated and bloody wounded. Why was Alida like that? Why had she done that to him?

It was a long walk from Claremont to Peppermint Grove where his sister lived. If the distance made it a punishment for him, so much the better, Gareth thought savagely. He needed some sort of outlet for all the pent-up energy pounding through him, some sort of punishing physical activity to relieve the burning frustrations of his body.

Damn Alida Rose, he thought. Damn the impulse that had made him approach her. Damn the desire that gave rise to the impulse. Hadn’t he felt enough guilt over her? He certainly didn’t need another load of it!

Yet every word she had said about him was true. He couldn’t deny it. Not any of it. She had held up a mirror to him and shown him an image of himself that stripped him of all pretensions to being the human he thought he was. Shame burrowed through his heart as he remembered every callous detail of how he had treated her.

Tonight was bad enough. He had chased her like a stag on the scent, blind to everything but having her again, determined to sweep aside any obstacle to satisfying his desire. Over and over again she had signalled the hurt he had given her five years ago, but that hadn’t stopped him. He had kept right on, pursuing his purpose, forcing the response he wanted from her.

That bleak wounded look through the tears in her eyes… How many men had hurt her, taking then-pleasure of her and leaving her with nothing? Worse than nothing. The humiliation of knowing she had been used only for their gratification. And however many men there had been, he was one of them. There was no escaping that fact. He had hurt Alida Rose, and he had hurt her badly.

All these years his conscience hadn’t been troubled by her. His infidelity to Kate, that had troubled him because of the promise he had made to his wife. Apart from the one occasion with Alida Rose, he had kept that promise. But keeping that promise had exacted a terrible toll. He had dismissed any feelings Alida might have had. His only concern had been the feelings she had given him.

He remembered that after he had taken her, she had asked when she would see him again, expecting what they had shared to go on. He winced at the answer he had given, was compelled to give. It hadn’t been easy for him. It must have been harder for her.

He had cut dead the idea of seeing her again, not caring if such a brutal action had made her bleed inside. Knowing the type of world to which she belonged, he hadn’t imagined it would cost her very much. All the hurt was on his side. After all, in his mind, she had known from the start that he was married.

But she hadn’t known. He had to accept that now. It must have shocked her, shattered her, blown any hopes she had nursed to smithereens. He recalled that she hadn’t said a word. Not a single word. He had been relieved when she had silently accepted his situation with Kate. She had left him without trying to reopen the issue.

He had interpreted that action as pragmatic worldliness—the affair was dead—just another experience to chalk up in the life he had coloured for her in his mind. The life he knew nothing about at all in real terms.

The pain in her eyes tonight, the loneliness, there had been nothing he could do to assuage either. He, who had contributed so much to both without a thought for her. No wonder she had wanted him to go. She had every justification not to want his company. Yet he hated the thought of her remembering him like that in the lonely darkness of the night. He wished…

His mouth curled in self-derision. Comforting her had nothing to do with what he wanted from holding her in his arms. The desire she aroused in him was still a throbbing ache. He wanted what they’d shared before. He wanted that so much it would probably haunt him to his dying day.

The fair thing to do was stay away from her. He couldn’t make up for what he’d done, and he couldn’t offer her the kind of relationship she needed. At least he could have the decency to keep right out of her life. If that was what she wanted. But damn it! She had wanted him, too. The mutual attraction was still there, the same as before. Couldn’t they share something together? Why deny some mutual pleasure?

Gareth had no idea what hour it was when he finally arrived at his sister’s home. He was weary in both body and soul, but when he shed his clothes and dropped into bed, the merciful oblivion of sleep was long in coming. He was tormented by frustrations that were beyond his willpower to control.

He had been so close to having Alida again, the touch of her, the feel of her, the whole softly scented reality of her. His body stirred at the memory, demanding a resolution.

Damn the consequences, he thought. I want her. And I’m going to have her. I don’t know what I’m going to do, or how I’m going to do it, but there is unfinished business between Alida Rose and me. And if I’m half the man I think I am, I’m going to end it my way.

Eventually he drifted into an uneasy semiconsciousness where dreams of Alida Rose taunting him with the fashion award kept drifting through his mind.

The grey light of dawn was filtering into his room before he fell into deep sleep.

He was stirred from it by an unceremonious shaking and the insistent voice of his daughter. “Come on, Dad! You’ve got to wake up. It’s almost time for me to go to school and I need to know about last night.”

He forced open one bleary eye. “What about last night?” he growled.

Stacey plonked herself on the bed beside him and thrust the front page of the morning newspaper in his face. It seemed to be dominated by a photograph of Alida Rose holding up the statuette. It was like a figment of his nightmares. Then he remembered the pose from the presentation ceremony.

“Alida Rose takes top fashion award,” Stacey read out aloud.

“So?” he mumbled.

“So Aunty Deb says you danced with her. And took her home afterwards,” Stacey informed him in a tone of very eager interest. “What happened? What did you do with her, Dad?”

Gareth silently cursed his sister. She was getting to be an extremely pesky blabbermouth.

“We talked.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” Gareth replied irritably.

“She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?” Stacey prompted.

“Not bad,” he mumbled non-committally.

“You must like her.”

“Mmm.” “She must like you, too.”

“What is this? A Spanish inquisition?” he protested tersely.

“I guess you got home very, very late, did you, Dad?” Stacey said understandingly. Hopefully?

“Not too late.”

“It’s all right, Dad,” Stacey assured him. “I won’t tell Aunty Deb.”

“Aunty Deb doesn’t know a damned thing!” he snapped, then dragged himself up on one elbow to glower at his daughter whose face was alight with avid curiosity and speculation. “Are you ready for school?”

“No.”

“Then get ready.”

“I’m almost ready.”

“Completely ready.”

“Okay.” She heaved a resigned sigh and hitched herself off his bed. “I just wanted to know if I didn’t have to worry about you any more.”

“Worry?”

“You know, about your natural urges being dried up. And drinking too much.”

“Stacey.” He expelled an impatient and somewhat threatening breath.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” She folded the newspaper and tucked it under her arm. “You don’t have to get up, Dad. Aunty Deb said she’d drive me to school. So you can go back to sleep now.” There was a smug smile on her face as she headed for the door.

Gareth grimaced at his daughter’s retreating back. She was getting to be positively precocious, what with his stupid sister saying things she shouldn’t, and a gaggle of silly schoolgirls filling her head with fantasies. On the other hand, at least she didn’t seem offended by the idea of Alida Rose.

And then the thought popped into his head. Something Alida had said last night. He had no idea whether it would work or not, but as a scheme it didn’t look too bad.

He relaxed on the pillows again, his mind swiftly darting through today’s schedule, replanning his time. Did Alida have offices somewhere or did she work from that house? He would have to find out. In fact, he needed to find out all he could about her, get himself informed instead of making ignorant assumptions. This next approach had to be carefully plotted.

His body stirred again at the thought of her. Going back to sleep seemed highly improbable so Gareth threw off the bedclothes and headed for the shower. One thing was certain. He didn’t have to worry about his natural urges being dried up. At the present moment they needed dampening down. But he wasn’t about to tell his daughter that! Nor his blabbermouth sister!

By the time Gareth went down to breakfast— washed, shaved and dressed for the day ahead of him—Deborah had already returned from taking Stacey and her own children to school. She was seated at the table, drinking her umpteenth cup of coffee and doing the daily cryptic crossword, to which she was addicted. As he entered the room, she looked up and bestowed a delighted smile on him.

“Ah, Gareth, just the person to tell me. What’s that special breed of cow in Africa that sort of rhymes with bull?”

“Hili.”

“Of course! An African cow with an afterthought. Tulips. That does it,” she declared triumphantly.

“What’s the afterthought?”

“P.S. As in a letter. Tuli and P.S. equals tulips.”

Gareth poured himself a cup of coffee from the simmering percolator and sat down to drink it. He regarded his sister with considerable impatience as she went blithely on with her crossword. Deborah was younger by four years, and most of the time he thought her reasonably sensible, but there were times when he felt like throttling her.

She looked up and grinned at him. “Well, you must be feeling good this morning.”

She had the same blue eyes as he, and they were dancing with gleeful knowingness. Her features were similar to his, as well, but softer, more feminine. In actual fact, she was a striking-looking woman with her long black hair and tall figure. Max certainly considered his wife the most beautiful woman in the world, but Max was besotted with her. She had given him two fine sons who were doing very well at primary school, and she was a superb hostess, among other things. She was also an interfering busybody!

“Must I?” Gareth challenged tersely.

Deborah’s finely arched eyebrows arched higher. “A bit short of sleep?”

Gareth gritted his teeth. “Deborah, please do me a favour and do not even refer to last night.”

Her eyebrows lowered into a frown. Then, hesitantly, “It didn’t work out so good?”

“Backward SID with a flower.”

Her cryptic-crossword mind worked that out in a fraction of a second. “Disaster?”

“Precisely.”

“Oh!” She looked vexed. “I guess I shouldn’t have said anything to Stacey.”

He gave her a stern look. “No. You shouldn’t have.”

Deborah shrugged. “Well, I just thought it would be a good idea to prepare her.”

“For what?”

“Girls of that age can get very jealous of their fathers. I’ve been trying to ease Stacey into the idea that she can’t expect you to be alone and miserable for the rest of your life.”

“I am not miserable, Deborah,” he bit out with glowering emphasis. “I’ve never been miserable.”

She cast him a sceptical look. “Do you feel up to some breakfast now?”

“I’ll get some in the city.” He didn’t have time to eat if he was to get through his business before the lunch hour.

Deborah returned to her crossword while Gareth finished his coffee. When he stood up to leave she lifted a bright smiling face.

“Max will be home this evening.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing him.”

“You remember we’re giving a dinner party tomorrow night?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“I always think neutral ground is best after a disaster. If you’d like to invite Alida Rose…”

“Deborah.” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “I can manage my own personal life. By myself. Please indulge me with that liberty. Thank you.”

She screwed up her nose at him.

He threw her a quelling look and left, feeling darkly frustrated with his sister’s irrepressible nature. She probably meant well, he conceded dubiously, but he still wished she would mind her own business. Her and her high-society dinner parties! If his plan worked today, he certainly didn’t want to share Alida with a whole lot of other people.