CHAPTER FOUR

HE ROAMED the estate for most of the day, filled with a bittersweet nostalgia that had Suzannah at the centre. Remembrance of things past. Playing here together twenty-odd years ago. The banks upon banks of azaleas and rhododendrons he had always loved greeted him everywhere in exquisite profusion, some of the rhododendrons as tall as trees, filling the green landscape with a wealth of colour, the range of pinks, the rich reds, the purples, the snowy-white drifts, the gorgeous golden yellow and orange. As he approached the stables complex he became a little morbid. The stables were now deserted, the horses all sold off, those splendid creatures that had offered him so much peace and pleasure.

Under a brilliant blue sky he walked the formal acres of vines that covered the steeper stony slopes in a quivering sea of delicate green and gold. Vitus Vinifera. The sacred wine, its cultivation lost in the mists of antiquity. Down amid the regimented aisles of vines, he carefully examined the Rhine rieslings with their distinctive spring shoots coloured red. The three-lobed leaves were rough and puckered on top, the spotted yellowy green berries sitting in small tight cylindrical bunches. He cradled them gently, breathing in the incomparable scent of earth and plant. Public taste for many years had favoured the Chardonnays as the premium white table wine but he had always favoured the famous grape of the Rhine Valley, preferring their fresh distinctive fruitiness and flavour to the more delicate character of the Chardonnay. All this was his responsibility now. He'd had no idea the vineyards had beenn so neglected. There were signs of deterioration everywhere. The harvest would be of poorer quantity and quality. That would stop. Big plans began circulating in his mind. Hans Schroeder and his son, Kurt, would have to be brought back. The Schroeder family, German in origin like German settlers who had established so many famous wineries of the Barossa Valley in South Australia, were devoted to winemaking, with a fine record of achievement. They had worked for the Sheffield family vineyard since the winery had been established in the early 1800s when Edward Sheffield, the then master of Bellemont and a man apparently of tremendous vision, had decided to produce noteworthy wines for his own table and tables of his E)astoralist friends.

The old two-storey stone winery with its underground tunnels was a wonderfully picturesque old place impregnated with the aroma of wine, the soft amber brick of the facade decorated with a beautiful violet flowering trumpet vine. Like Suzannah's eyes. The winery would have to be better equipped, thoroughly modernised. He had very little free time but he would set the right people to work on upgrading and expansion. Many more acres could go under the vine. Semillon, Chardonnay. They would stick to the white styles, concentrating on quality and refinement. He would have to bring in a vineyard director and perhaps one of the new young vignerons doing such great things. It would create work for people of the district. Nick realised now it would be a thrilling challenge to make top-quality table wines. Concentrating on the vineyards he would turn the stables into a teaching establishment, offering riding lessons to all the children of the district, not just the rich kids, all the kids with his same love of horses. Maybe keep better horses for the use of accomplished adult riders. It should be easy enough to find the right person to run the place.

Inevitably he thought of Suzannah. She was an exceptional horsewoman with a natural affinity for those most beautiful and delicate long-legged creatures. He thought of the times they had ridden together, galloping everywhere; over the hills, walking their horses beside the river, revelling in the communication between each other and the splendid mounts Suzannah selected for their rides. It was always a source of amazement to him that her father hadn't objected to his riding any of the quality horses but then Marcus Sheffield, for all his arrogance and snobbish ways, knew full well how he could ride and how much he cared about horses. He had to thank Suzannah for his riding lessons as well. She had insisted he share so many of her training sessions after her coach immediately realised he had an affinity with these extraordinary animals. He could, infact, sit on anything from a rogue to a thoroughbred almost from the beginning.

He walked back through the lemon grove, breathing in the wonderful citrus aroma. Here he was a migrant kid of no importance, master of Bellemont. But that was Australia. Anyone with the brains and the ambition could make it to the very top.

Towards afternoon he drove into the town, parking the Mercedes in the side street alongside the town's primary school. Many more cars were beginning to pull in on the main street as mothers arrived to collect their children. No sign of the Sheffield Rolls Suzannah had been driving yesterday. Maybe she had a car of her own. One he wouldn't recognise.

He almost missed her in the crowd. Children began to pour out of their classrooms, running headlong across the beautifull tree-shaded playground and out the front and side gates into their mothers' arms. These were the little ones. Grade One and Two. The older children would be let out later. Sitting deep in his seat he straightened, staring out the window. The children were all wearing hats, protection against the sun. The uniforms of the little girls were all the same. It would be near impossible to spot Charlotte, the mirror image of her mother, among that lot. He had to keep his eye strained for Suzannah's appearance. He would know her even bundled up in a raincoat with the hood pulled down over her eyes. No one moved with her grace. No one had her elegant legs even in jeans.

At the last moment he spotted her. She was moving very quickly, clutching the hand of a little girl, throwing many quick looks around her.

" Damn you, Suzannah, " he thought. She was very, very anxious to prevent him from seeing her daughter.

Why?

He had to swallow on a hard knot in his chest to regain his composure. He knew how old the child was. He knew her name. He knew Suzannah had betrayed himm only to marry Martin White an unaccountably short time later.

She wasn't going to get away. He opened the door of the Mercedes unaware of the acute attention that was now being given to him. All conversation stopped. Heads turned.

He grabbed Suzannah's hand just as she opened the passenger door of her small white hatchback, inconspicuous among so many others, speaking pleasantly so as not to alarm the child.

" Suzannah. How marvellous to see you again. " He smiled as he said it, the smile wonderfully softening his arresting features.

" Nick. " She was very pale, only one step away from throwing the child in the car.

" Good afternoon. " Now he transferred his smile to the little girl who was staring up at him with huge, almond-set blue-green eyes. Changeable eyes. Like the sea. Eyes that could look very blue or green according to the colours she wore. The shock stopped his heart. These lovely eyes held a peculiar expression, pleasure mingled with a puzzled recognition. Her apple blossom skin was flushed, her thick dark hair emerged from her school hat in a long plait tied at the end with a ribbon.

" I was just passing when I saw you, " he tried his hardest to speak normally when he felt like keening his pain to the heavens.

" Won't you introduce me to your beautiful daughter? "

" Hi! " Charlotte piped up before her mother could manage a word. Like a little lady she gave him her hand. " I'm Charley. It's really Charlotte but everyone calls me Charley. "

" Delighted to meet you, Charley. " Desperately he held back his roaring primal emotions. He looked down at the milky babysoft skin of the hand enclosed in his. Charlotte. My daughter. My God! He sensed it as an animal senses its young.

" And how are you? " Charley smiled up at him happily thinking how wonderfully handsome he was, his eyes so brilliant-sort of like black diamonds. Where had she seen him before? She would think of it in a minute.

" My name is Nicholas Konrads, Charlotte. " In his monstrous confusion, heart hammering in his chest, he used her full name. " I used to be good friends with your mother. "

" Were you? How wonderful. Ah, now I know! " The little girl looked from him to her mother. " I found a lot of pictures of you and mummy once. " Full recognition danced in her eyes. " Mummy had forgotten all about them. They were in an album. It was hidden away in a cupboard. Mummy said you were cousins. Are you my cousin, too? "

" Honorary cousin, darling, " Suzannah intervened tautly. " That's what I mean. Mr. Konrads is no relation. "

Like hell I'm not, he thought violently. Anger pounded in him, wanting to shake Suzannah until her bones rattled.

" Look, it's lovely to see you, Nick, but we've got to run. " Hectic scarlet stained Suzannah's magnolia cheeks.

" Perhaps I might visit you, " he managed to say almost levelly, looking her very piercingly in the eyes.

" How about coffee tomorrow, " she suggested in a moment of pure panic. She didn't think for a moment Nick would just go away.

" I won't be here tomorrow, " he said, still overwhelmed by the sight of this small girl. " I have to be back in Sydney. What about tonight? Could you manage dinner? A restaurant, of course. " He could see the helpless fluttering of a pulse in her throat. Felt a vivid anger mixed up with grief.

She feigned a rueful smile, determined on headlong flight. " No good tonight, Nick. I really have to be at home for Charley. "

" No, you don't, Mamma, " Charlotte said, pulling on her mother's arm. Although she wasn't participating in the conversation she was very involved. " Grandpa can look after me. " Charlotte was deeply worried about her mother, aware of her hidden sorrows. It would be very nice for mummy to have dinner with Mr. Konrads. Charlotte could see straight off he was a very special person. She remembered the lots of photographs from when Mummy was quite small, always with the same tall boy at her shoulder. Then years later Mummy as a teenager astride a big horse, back so straight, helping with the harvest, playing the piano, curled up on a sofa, dressed for dances. Mr. Konrads was in most of them. He still looked the same except for the shorter hair and the grown-up clothes and kind of importance Grandpa used to have before he became ill.

" I know where your house is, Suzannah, " he said, looking at her over the child's head, his eyes conveying all the things he couldn't say. It was all out of her control now.

Suzannah for her part was receiving the full impact of his reaction. She felt physically ill, her legs rubbery. Charley was looking up into his face, head cocked to one side, a smile on her rosebud mouth. It was very obvious she has taken to him on sight. Why not? My God why not? Inside her heart broke.

" Do you know where the Chantilly Cafe used to be? " she asked, feeling the full force of his powerful personality.

" Of course. " He cursed himself when the words came out clipped.

" There's a very good restaurant there now, " Suzannah said almost frantically, " Augustine's. I'll met you there. It won't be until around eight, I'm afraid. "

" Can't Mr. Konrads pick you up? " Charley whispered, because she didn't like her mother driving alone at night. It wasn't safe. Like Daddy. She had to know her mother would be safe.

" You're making Charlotte anxious, " he found himself pointing out, effortlessly reading the message in those blue-green eyes. " I'll be outside your house at eight o'clock exactly. I won't disturb your father. " If I did I might pound him. Sickness or not.

" You won't really disturb us, " Charley said in her child's lilt, hoping to get the opportunity to see Mummy's friend again.

She was too sweet not to do anything else. On impulse he went down on his haunches, some expression in his eyes causing the little girl to suddenly fling herself forward, burying her face in the hollow of his neck. He couldn't stand it. He forgot he was supposed to be a complete stranger to her and put his arms around her, stroking her back.

" Oh, Nick! " Suzannah's small cry was that of a wounded bird's, spiralling up.

" Promise I'll see you again. " Charley said, pushing her hat right back off her head.

He straightened to his full height, laying his hand on the silky crown of her head, bound to her as surely as he was bound to her mother. " Charlotte, I promise you'll see me for the rest of my life. "

It was a promise all three of them were to remember.

There was no way she could lie to her father. Besides, Charley was full of the meeting outside the school, chatting away happily until her grandfather stopped her with a ferocious look.

" That will do, Charley, " he said sternly, causing the little girl to blush.

" I'm sorry, Grandpa.

" Why don't you run up and get changed, precious. " Suzannah got a tight hold on her own anger. Feeling the way she did about her daughter she wasn't going to subject her to her father's increasingly testy moods. It was the futility of his life that was getting to him, the severe reversal in their fortunes. Now Nick had returned to teach them both a lesson.

" Yes, Mamma. " Charley looked over to her mother who smiled at her encouragingly.

" I'll have some nice afternoon tea ready for you when you get back. "

" Maybe I'm not hearing this properly? " her father began as soon as Charlotte disappeared. " Nick Konrads came to the school? "

" He was passing. That's all. " Suzannah took milk from the fridge intending to add some chocolate Milo.

Her father shuffled to a chair and shook his head. " Don't give me that. He's seeking you out. He'd better look out I don't catch sight of him. "

Suzannah shrugged, thinking her father's days of ascendancy were all over. " I'm having dinner with him tonight. "

That almost deprived her father of breath. " You're what? " His cheeks flushed. " This man is a thief! "

" I thought we'd settled all that, Father, " she said as quietly as she could. " Please don't raise your voice. I don't want Charley upset. "

" No, but you want to upset me. " Marcus Sheffield's tone was harsh and ugly. " I forbid you to go out of this house tonight, Suzannah. You have a child to look after, if not me. "

" Father, please, don't ruin everything for us, " she begged, feeling at the end of her tether. " I don't want to argue with you. I'm a grown woman. I'm hardly away from you and Charley for a minute. Nick is too powerful to ignore. He wants to speak to me. "

" About what? " Marcus Sheffield sounded outraged. " Don't tell me he's a dangerous man. I know that. I wish he'd gone back to the country where he was born. "

" We all came from somewhere, Father, " she countered wearily. " Only the aborigines inhabited this land. "

Her father ignored her. " It doesn't matter to you I'm utterly against your seeing him. "

" It doesn't matter at all, " she was driven to admit. " Not this time around. I loved Nick, Father. I loved him with all my heart. I knew he was going to ask me to marry him. I was going to say yes. We were made for each other. Pure and simple. But you and Martin destroyed all that. "

" Why oh why did I lose all my money? " Her father moaned, unwilling or unable to respond to her charge. " Why oh why did I put so much trust in Martin? "

" I told you. He was one of us. One of the privileged. "

" And yet I regret nothing. " Marcus Sheffield's faded eyes flashed.

" That's the pity of it, Father, " Suzannah said.

There were more words a half an hour before Nick was due to arrive and Suzannah, sunk in near despair, decided she couldn't possibly leave Charley with her father. To a certain extent he had changed into another person, leaving the child both wary and bewildered. She would have to run out to the car and explain as much as she dared to Nick. She rarely left her father to take care of Charlotte, always taking his diminished health into consideration, but never had his flaring temper been so much in evidence.

He had never been so unhappy in his life. He has never really lost control of me, Suzannah thought. Indulgent to a fault, her father in some ways had been the worst kind of father. Perhaps even now his behaviour was meant to control her. There was -no way she could meet Nick if she left an anxious little daughter at home.

No way.

" There aren't many fathers who've been as generous and supportive as I, " he told her icily, even with Charley hovering uncertainly in the background. " I had you and Martin live with me. I've as good as reared your child. You all came to me for money. "

" You taught us all to be dependant, Father, " Suzannah countered. " That's the way you wanted it. " She went to Charley and turned her about. " Bedtime, my darling. School tomorrow. "

" Are you still going out? " Charley asked, thinking Grandpa was being horrible to Mummy.

" No, darling, " Suzannah answered in a calm, reassuring voice. " Grandpa isn't well. It's not the time to leave you. "

A surge of new life seemed to burst on Marcus Sheffield. " I'm glad you had the sense to see that, " he called. " You're still a dreamer, Suzannah. Hankering after things that are bad for you. "

" Why does Grandpa hate Mr. Konrads so much? " In her small bedroom highly intelligent little Charley fixed her mother with a straight look.

" He doesn't hate him, darling. " Suzannah tucked her daughter in, bending to kiss Charley lightly as the little girl puckered her lips.

" He sure doesn't love him, " Charley said with almost adult irony. " I think it's awful Grandpa won't let you go out tonight. "

Children saw very clearly. " I decided that myself, pet. Looking after children is beyond Grandpa these days. "

" But I'll be in bed asleep, " Charley reasoned. She really wanted her mother to see Mr. Konrads again. Her mother was so sad and Mr. Konrads had been such a good friend.

" Go to sleep now, darling, " Suzannah soothed. " You're quite safe. I'm staying home. "

" Safe and warm. " Charley yawned. " I don't know why Daddy didn't love me. "

For a moment Suzannah was overwhelmed by anguish. " He did, Charley. You must remember not everyone is a very affectionate person. They don't show it with lots of hugs and kisses. "

" Like you, " Charley said gratefully, turning on her side and positioning her hands under her cheek. " Mr. Konrads put his arms around me. He hugged me and stroked my back. I was really happy when he did that. It was like I'd known him for a long, long time. Isn't that funny? " For a moment Suzannah was overwhelmed by anguish.

" You're a mighty pretty little rose. Pleasant dreams, my love. "

" Night, night, Mummy, " Charley said, her eyelids already falling to lie like silky black wings on her velvet cheeks.

" What do youu propose to do about Konrads? " her father asked later with a return to his old arrogant demeanour. " Let me handle it.

Suzannah kept her voice under control. " I've suffered a lot because of the way you handled things, Father. I'm going out to explain to Nick the change of plan. You'd be well advised to keep out of it. "

He read her determination in the tilt of her chin. " I'm very disappointed in you, Suzannah. You're getting very hard. "

Why wasn't I years ago, she thought, but held her tongue.

She waited out on the porch, running down the pathway to the gate as soon as she caught sight of the Mercedes coming down the street. She had dressed quietly for the evening, playing down her looks, not knowing the reverse was true. The midnight-blue of her camisole, matching pants and jacket deepened the beauty of her eyes and the creamy clarity of her skin. Her hair pulled back and tucked behind her ears showed off the shape of her face, the small shell-like setting of her ears, the line of her chin and neck. Her beauty, a special gift, had never brought her any happiness. It had brought her trouble.

As Nick parked the car she opened up the passenger door and slid in as though she could scarcely wait to be away. Dark fire burned in him. He switched on the interior light, the better to see her, immediately aware of the anxiety that was brimming in her.

" What's the matter? " He almost reached out to pull her thick glossy hair loose then decided this way he had a better view of her high-cheekboned face.

" Nick, I can't go with you. " Her voice shook a little, her body trembled, all borne of his powerful effect on her and fear of what her father might do.

" Can't or won't? " He sounded languid, the sardonic tone of his voice exaggerated.

" Father simply isn't well enough to leave, " she said in a low voice.

He gave a mirthless laugh. " I should believe it but somehow it doesn't sound right to me. Your father is the most manipulative, controlling old devil in the world. It's bad, Suzannah, and you shouldn't put up with it. Why the hell didn't you and poor gutless Martin fly the coop? Didn't you want to be on your own? "

The stark truth overrode her. " No, I didn't, " she found herself saying. God forgive her she didn't love Martin but she had the magic of Bellemont. She had the horses whose presence gave her enormous comfort. She had her daily walks through the vineyard. Her beloved little daughter revelled in her environment, loving it as much as her mother. She didn't go. She couldn't go. Martin, too, had been very mindful of all the benefits. His job for which her father paid him generously, a splendid colonial mansion-one of the best in the land-to call home.

" Whatever happened to all that wonderful proud spirit? Suzannah my little firebrand, " Nick mocked.

" Nick, I must go, " she said desperately, her feelings for him flowing as deep as ever.

He reached out and encircled her wrist, finding it too fragile. " Why are you under such terrible strain? " he demanded.

" Why do you think? " she replied emotionally. " I lost my husband not so long ago. He was killed in a car crash. He had another woman with him at the time. I've lost my home. Not any old home but the place where my family has lived forever. My father has had a stroke. He's lost his money. And you ask why am I stressed? "

" Stressed as in tonight, " he rasped. " I know all the rest. "

" Father still hates you, Nick, " she said in a stricken voice.

His dark face tautened. " Which leaves me utterly cold. Deep in your heart you know the reason for it all. Your mother left him. Ran away. You're never going to be allowed to do that. "

It was dreadfully close to the truth. " You forget he could have another stroke at any time. I don't want that on my head. "

" Oh, Suzannah, don't carry the guilt. Your father has lived the good life to the hilt. I remember he was furious when his doctor told him he had to quit smoking and limit his intake of alcohol. You weren't party to any of that but you are party to a massive deception. " He kept his brilliant eyes on her.

" I don't know what you're talking about. " She tried ineffectually to free her hand.

" Ah, but you do, " he said in a voice that was perfectly hard. " If I weren't a civilised man I might close my hands around your throat. "

She shivered, her heart beating a tattoo. " I never thought you had violence in you. "

" Neither did I, " he responded, " until I saw my daughter's face. "

Wanting more than anything to escape his condemnation, Suzannah released her hand, jerking backwards, giving a bitter, incredulous laugh. " Is that why you wanted to see me? You thought Charley was your daughter? "

" I know Charlotte is my daughter, " he said in a terrifying voice. " She has my mother's name. She has my mother's eyes. Those wonderful changeable blue-green. The exact shape. God, Suzannah, did no one else see it? "

Fear leapt in her. " You must have forgotten Martin's sister. Sheridan has those colour eyes. "

His hand tightened as he looked at her. " I'm talking about extraordinary eyes, Suzannah. Eyes that run in families. I remember both of Martin's sisters well. Neither of them had eyes that dominated the face. Yours are a wonderful violet. Charley inherited all the rest from you-the triangular face, the hair, the light, long limbs-but she got my mother's eyes. You can't walk away from that. "

" But I'm going to. " She shook her head vehemently so the full weight of her hair on one side slid forward. " You've got things badly wrong. Charley is Martin's daughter. "

" You can lie even now, " he said coldly, a powerful anger stirring.

" Do you want a child so badly you would take mine? " She stared at him, her eyes trapped.

" And mine. Don't play me for a fool. I have many, many, contacts in the medical and scientific world. Charlotte threw herself into my arms… why, Suzannah? Have you asked yourself that? She left a long strand of her hair on my jacket. I've packed it away in an envelope. You know all about DNA testing. It's in all the news. All I need is one strand of Charlotte's hair to claim her as my child. "

" You're mad. " Her voice broke.

" You're the mad one if you keep playing this stupid charade, " he told her harshly. " Why did you do it? Why did you wrong me? You've kept my beautiful child hidden from me all these years. Do you know what incredible pain I feel? I missed her birth. I missed her infancy. I missed all the wonderful years when she turned from a toddler into the little girl she is now. I've been alone, Suzannah. Alone. "

" Alone? " She fairly crackled with nerves. " Every time I saw you in a magazine or a newspaper you were with some woman. You've built up a huge business. You're a multimillionaire. You can afford to buy Bellemont. "

" I slaved to get it, " he said, his own eyes blazing. " It came at a high cost. "

She looked away. " Charley isn't your daughter, Nick. "

" What an actress you are! " He smiled lightly. " Who are you trying to protect, Suzannah? Yourself? You've acted with dishonour. Martin must have been dreadfully unhappy knowing Charlotte was never his. "

Her voice was loud and brittle in the quiet leather-scented interior of the car. " Never in our whole married life did he accuse me of such a thing. "

" It was all too painful, I suppose, " Nick retorted. " And what of your father? God alone knows how he kept his suspicions to himself. "

" Don't. " She stared at him, her eyes like jewels in her pale face. " Charley is my daughter. She's the image of me. Father adores her. "

" She is, after all, your child. " He nodded, sounding reasonable.

It gave her hope. " Nick, I must go back inside the house. We have to put an end to this conversation. "

" You don't want to leave Charlotte in your father's care? " he asked with sharp intuition.

" It's just that he's not up to it. "

" Odd when she's most probably asleep. " He looked towards the lights of the house. " Why don't I simply drive off? "

" Please don't, Nick. " She showed her vulnerability, letting her fingers clutch his arm.

" I suppose you've spent all day arguing with him, " he said in a pained voice. " I know better than anyone how muchh power he has over you. Why don't you get a house of your own? Did Martin have nothing to leave you? " he added with disgust.

" Martin made too many mistakes. " She was simply beyond explaining.

" Not the least of them marrying you, " he said curtly. " Is that why he spent time with other women? He couldn't bear the pain of knowing you didn't love him. "

Tears sprang to her eyes. " No one has the right to speak to me like that, " she told him passionately.

" I believe I have, " he said gratingly, going with the turbulent current that flowed between them. Rejection, humiliation, loss, rose like bile in the back of his throat.

" Why is it men love power? " she asked. " Power above any woman. This is a contest between you and my father. "

He turned his shoulders to stare at her lovely patrician face. " Believe that and you'll believe anything. I admit it started that way. Started me on the road to success. I needed money, big money to make those who had wronged me suffer. But revenge is like acid. It eats into the soul. Any revenge I've had is empty. Too much has happened. Your father may think he is, but he's no longer a player. He can't move us all around like pawns on a board. Martin is gone. Poor, unhappy Martin doomed to love you. Your life has been blighted to guilt and lies. And me? I've been cut to the heart by the sight of my own child. "

It was terrible to hear him say it. She felt hounded, pressed to the wall. " I told you, no. " Her voice was filled with an overwhelming rage of emotion. She didn't need all this pain. This grieving. Now this charge she couldn't hear. Pinned to the passenger seat she felt as if she was sliding precariously across ice, careering towards a deep black hole.

" You never used to be a liar. " He caught the point of her chin, his fingers strong and hurting. " We'll get to the truth, Suzannah. Then God help you. "

" I told you. Let me go, Nick, " she snapped. " My whole life is upsetting and difficult. I don't need this extra trauma. We were only together once. " Once! When the memory of those passionate, tempestuous shared hours had stayed with her every day of her life. Even when Martin was making love to her she was terrified she would call out Nick's name.

" Once is all it takes, " he pointed out bluntly, moving his palm over the curve of her cheek, down the slope of her jawline to her slender, vulnerable throat. He had a feeling of being on the extreme edge yet she stared back at him, her beautiful violet eyes stark, clear… brave.

" I want you. " It was torn from him. He never wanted to say it. " I can't recall a minute I haven't wanted you since I knew what sexual desire was all about. "

" So you took other women instead? " she said, unable to control her own bitterness.

" With passing pleasure, Suzannah. Never a consuming need. " His thumb traced the line of her jaw. " How can love exist alongside hate? " he asked, too gently.

" You hate me? " She held his wrist, contrition pouring from her.

" What you've done cries out for hatred. The pity of it all! " he groaned. The pain, the anger, the disillusionment. " You were everything in the world to me yet you shoved me aside for Martin White. God pity him. "

" I loved Martin, " she said, refusing to admit the naked truth.

" You loved money, position, your status in the district, " he corrected her starkly. " You loved Bellemont. You wanted that more than anything else. Your father might have disinherited you had you run off with me. " Her near-black hair brushed his hand, thick, satiny, scented.

" Nothing to be gained by looking back at the past, " she said sadly, the soft glow of the interior light painting her skin with delicate apricot.

" The past is always with us, Suzannah. " He tried to force his brain into giving the command to his hand to let go of her but she was every desire imaginable mixed into one. Hunger was an expanding force in his chest. It pounded against his rib cage like a wild animal desperate to get out.

The soft, low camisole she wore beneath her open jacket showed the swelll of her breasts, like creamy roses. He saw now she wasn't wearing a bra and he felt like plunging his hand into her mauve shadowed cleavage, voluptuously cupping her breasts, teasing the puckered berries of her nipples. The world was spinning away on a sizzling burn of desire…Suzannah naked beside him, her beautiful limbs silvered by moonlight. Outside the rustle of leaves as the night wind played gently through the graceful branches of gum trees, the patches of sky they could see through the open French doors filled with the glittering diamonds of stars. The scent of her as they lay there, both of them so extravagantly fulfilled and happy it was like a vision of Heaven. She did not refuse him. She loved him. She had loved him as a child. She loved him as a man. This was the first time for both of them. A momentous threshold passed. This was life itself.

Life.

He had planted his seed in that glorious ritual of love.

In a blur, not trying to stop it, his black eyes brilliant, he pressed on her sensitive nape until her face was where he wanted it, a scant inch from his own. In a way it fulfilled some of his bittersweet fantasies. He kissed her then, making no bones about his hunger nor his profound sense of possession. She was the gorgeous butterfly on the end of a pin. She was his.

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