CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WAS quiet after everyone had left, Bebe electing to travel with Noel in his Land Cruiser.

" Thank you so much for a wonderful weekend, Suzannah, " Bebe said as she was leaving, moving forward to kiss Suzannah's cheek. 'Nick desperately needs some private time for relaxation. This place is a miracle. He works so hard. "

" I'm going to call in sick tomorrow, " Nick joked. " If you're going back with Noel, I think I'll drive back tomorrow. "

Suzannah didn't hear the rest for the sound of her blood roaring in her ears. She and Nick alone in the house together! After such a weekend of activity six-year-old Charley would go off to bed early, sleeping the fathoms deep sleep of the innocent. What would everyone think? She had tried to imagine the private conversations over the weekend though no one, most of all Bebe, seemed to find it odd she and Charley were living in Nick's new country house. So she was the daughter of the former owner? So her family had worked Bellemont Farm for generations? She had anticipated a few privately raised eyebrows. But that had been far from the case. Everyone seemed to accept her as Nick's dearest, closest friend who had suffered two bereavements. Her husband, then her father. It was too much to cope with alone.

Then again, Suzannah reasoned, it must be because Nick's friends, the people who worked for him, overtly worshipped him. If they were to be believed, the world was a different place for them because of Nick. He inspired them, he had faith in them, in their abilities, let them run with them, recompensed them marvellously for the effort they put in. Konrads was a team. Nick treated his staff as equals but they all knew his brain power was vastly superior. It was quite wonderful the way he had no side to him, one of the young women told her. Nick was interested in everyone and what they were doing. Suzannah listened to a lot of words of praise about Nick. The townspeople, once they got over the shock of his return and the news that he had bought Bellemont, recognised him as one of them again. Many of the women, now married, remembered they had been in love with him right through high school and wrung their hands he had never looked in their direction. Most were fairly certain Marcus Sheffield had applied a lot of emotional blackmail to get Suzannah to marry Martin White. It was almost like a novel with people's actions defying reason.

Charley, of course, was ecstatic Nick was staying, insisting her mother brush her hair so Nick could see how nice it was out of her plaits.

" I imagine you as a beautiful young woman, " Nick told her, sitting in an armchair, watching his daughter turn slowly so he could see that the tips of her hair almost reached her waist. As Charley was growing so was her hair in glossy abundance. He remembered his mother's lovely hair, as polished as a black cockatoo's wing. Startled he realised Charley's hairline was becoming more pronounced. He stared at her in her pretty pink dress, a muscle along his jawline working, as he recognised his daughter had inherited not only her grandmother's eyes but his distinctive widow's peak. It wasn't something a lot of people had. How many others had noticed it as well? The truth would hurt a lot of people. Over his daughter's gleaming head he met Suzannah's eyes, reading in them a reflection of his own thoughts.

" Come on, Nick, talk to me, " Charley suddenly said. " Why are you looking at Mummy like that? Staring so deep into her. "

" I was thinking how much you're like her, Charlotte, " Nick said, getting up and holding out his hand. " Why don't we take a little stroll before it gets dark. We can see how Gypsy and Lady are. Early in the New Year the horses will arrive. Your mother and I are going to pick them out. I expect you'd like to come along, too? "

" Really? You're serious? " Charley danced beside him.

" I know when I'm in the presence of a horsewoman. " Nick looked down at her and smiled.

After the delicious lunch Suzannah prepared to speed Nick's guests on their way, they settled for a light tea of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon with fingers of toast. It was one of Charley's favourite meals and she ate it with relish.

" Shall I say my prayers now and get them over? " she asked her mother as Nick went off to check the house and mother and daughter began to clear away.

" Why the hurry, darling? " Suzannah asked.

" Nick has promised to tell me a bedtime story. It's a ghost story, I think. "

" Can't be, " Suzannah said. " You have far too much imagination already. " "

" But it's a lovely story, Nick said. His mother used to tell it to him when he was a little boy. It's about Christmas. "

`Ah, I see. Then we must trust Nick, mustn't we? "

Charley followed her mother into the kitchen, set down some plates, then asked, " Do you love him, Mummy, as a friend? " It was obvious she had been pondering their relationship.

Suzannah's heart jumped. " Yes, I do, darling. I've known Nick since I was a little girl. I told you. "

" Wasn't he your Prince Charming? " Charley stared up at her as though she had figured it out.

" Why ever would you say that? " The blood rushed into Suzannah's cheek and she turned away quickly to stack the dishwasher.

" When you look at him you look like you're daydreaming. " Charley came closer and peered at her.

" I'll be darned, " Suzannah laughed. " How can you tell when someone is daydreaming? " " Easy. They get this faraway look on their face. Nick said you used to go every day to visit his mother. He said his mother taught you to play the piano. "

" Darling, I always told you Mrs. Konrads taught me to play. " Suzannah stooped to load the dinner plates.

" I didn't know who Mrs. Konrads was, " Charley explained. " I didn't know she was Nick's mother. I'd like to see the house they lived in. Nick told me his mother went to join his father in Heaven where they're both perfectly happy. "

Suzannah stopped what she was doing to stroke her daughter's cheek. " I should think they would be. They were very good people. "

" Who were? " Nick asked, thinking he could have been blessed with this sight for years. His wife and his daughter. Suzannah had a very special way with their child.

" Charley was saying she would like to see where your parents lived. "

" We have a little problem there, Charlotte, " Nick replied, " no one lives there any more. "

" Is it haunted? " Charley gave a little shiver.

" Every old house has a past, Charlotte. Just like this one. Good people leave a good atmosphere. "

Charley moved closer and leaned against him endearingly. " I'd really like to see where you grew up. I'd like to see where Mummy had her music lessons. I'd like to stand on the verandah where Mrs. Konrads used to wave her goodbye. " She focused her beautiful eyes on Nick's face. " What were your parents' names? "

Over Charley's head their yes met. Emotions passed without words. " My mother's name was Lotte, " Nick told his daughter simply. " My father's name was Carl. That's the German form of Charles. Both of them were wonderful people, wonderful looking, too. "

" They must have been! " Charley sounded absolutely certain. " You're so handsome. My cousins think so, too. Weren't your parents Australians You've got a little accent. "

" Most people place it. " He smiled. " New Australians they were called in those days, Charlotte. People from many lands came to settle in Australia…the United Kingdom, all over Europe, South-East Asia. We're what is known as a multicultural society much like the United States. "

" Yes, I know. We learn that at school. " Charley's small face flushed with pride. " Some of the kids in the class speak two languages. Aren't they lucky? "

" Maybe we'd better start you on a couple, " Nick suggested. " French and German. "

" You'll have to do it, Nick, " Suzannah said quietly. " You're infinitely more qualified than I am. "

" You just need to travel a bit more, " he said with a long look.

" Will you, Nick? " Charley piped up.

He bent and lifted her into his arms. " Sweetie, that's a promise. "

" I knew it would be, " Charley said. " Bebe told me you're the best! "

It was another hour before Charley was settled in her bed, listening enthralled to Nick's Christmas story. She hadn't heard such a good story in years, not even Mummy's. This was a little bit spooky, but good spooky, leaving her with a magical feeling. She hugged Jacko, the clown she still took to bed with her, her eyelids drooping deliciously by the time Nick got to the end of his wonderfully exciting story.

" That was great, Nick! " She felt for his hand resting on the coverlet and squeezed with her little girl strength. " I love stories about forests and medieval castles. I even love the Brothers Grimm. Sometimes they're really scary. I think I'll go to sleep now. "

" Sweet dreams, meine liebling, " he said, his voice conveying the profound tenderness he felt.

Immediately Charley's long lashes came flying open. " I haven't heard that before, " she said in wonderment. " I haven't heard you speak like that with a real accent. What does it mean, miner leebling? "

Suzannah, who had come to stand very quietly at the bedroom door, found her throat working. She put her hand to it, fighting down tears. How had she possibly kept from Nick the fact he had a daughter? A daughter who loved him from the first sight. Instinctively. A daughter who would bring back images of his own mother every time he looked at her. She felt unbearably moved, unbearably saddened.

Nick was replying, his voice so vibrant, so loving, it invaded the caverns of her heart. " It means little sweetheart, Charlotte. "

" 0h, I wish I was your sweetheart, " Charley said fervently.

" But you are, " her father replied. " You are. "

This time Charley's eyelids fell. A smile on her face, she turned on her side, curled up, two hands beneath her cheek, the signal she was off to dreamland.

Nick, oblivious of Suzannah's presence, bent to kiss her temple, standing for a moment staring down at his sleeping daughter before he turned off the lights. No plunging into instant darkness; subdued lighting was always left on in the hallway as a comfort for family and guests.

Before Suzannah had time to recover, unable to wipe the poignant expression from her face, Nick turned to see her framed in the doorway utterly exposed, sadness naked in her eyes, pleading in their depths. His need for her was boundless no matter how much she had made him suffer. He was bound to her irrevocably. Bound to her and their daughter. She had one hand resting against the doorframe as if she were using it for support. He couldn't be sure but were there tracks of tears on her lovely face? The anger vanished. The hunger remained.

" Suzannah! " he murmured, his arms going out to her without his volition. He moved towards her, the light on the pearly cleft of her breasts as the neckline of her dress pushed low. A cool ripple of silk met his fingers, warming instantly to his touch. He cupped his hands, letting them fold over the delicate contours, feeling her nipples spring into tight buds. He could smell her own unique fragrance, clean and light, like a breath of air in the citrus grove. " You're crying. "

Now he could clearly see the sheen of tears. He bent forward irresistibly, tongue curling, to take a crystal droplet into his mouth. Her eyes were half shut. She was breathing fast.

" Suzannah, " he said again, hands on her shoulders moving her away from the bedroom into the hallway.

Whatever she read in his eyes she fled from him blindly, covering the distance to the staircase like a winged nymph. What a wonderful flight she had, swift and springy. He went after her purposefully as she knew he would, his heart thrashing passionately, emotion thick and dangerous in the air.

She ran straight to the library, large, rich, opulent, books from floor to ceiling, flinging herself into her father's favourite chair. Not a chair, a Gothic throne, mammoth in its size. Her eyes were nearly purple with intensity, her hair flowing around her creamy, pointed face. Almost directly behind her over the mantel her father's portrait was back in place. Marcus Sheffield, lord of the manor, in his prime. Six foot two, broad chested, impressive in his tweeds, his handsome head capped by a full head of steel-grey hair.

" Back to your father, eh? " he rasped, all of his senses burning. " Back to Daddy's protection. He'll take care of you. " Anger flared around him like lightning in a great storm.

" He's not here to take care of me any more, " she wept as if heartbroken, small and fragile in that wretched chair.

" You think I'm going to rape you? " He was incredibly, furiously outraged, his nerves live wires.

She let her head fall back against the high carved back, sobbing quietly for her sins, sobbing for the weakness she had shown when she should have shown strength. " I have to make sure…I have to make sure…" The words tumbled into one another.

" Sure of what? " He advanced on her, infuriated bewilderment stamped in every plane and angle of his face. " That you won't fall pregnant. Again? "

She recoiled. " Sure that you love me. " She watched him looming over her, scorched by his glance. " I don't want to be just a prize, Nick, " she pleaded. " Something you've hard won. Like Bellemont. I'll gladly share Charlotte with you. "

The very air had gone electric. " Will you tell her I'm her father? " he demanded, holding her eyes with such force she at last averted her head.

" That's between you and me. "

" You must think people are fools, " he laughed, intolerant of her answer. " Charlotte will grow more and more like me as she gets older. "

" God, it's happening now. " She brushed furiously at her tears with the heel of her hand. " Get out of that chair, " he said. " You can't make me. "

The moment stretched to breaking point. " I could easily, Suzannah, but don't let that happen. We need to be civilised for our child. "

" But you'd make me marry you? "

His eyes caught fire. " You're a woman to die for. "

The bitter irony was insupportable. " Yes, I know. " Her voice held an agony of regret. " I didn't make poor Martin happy. "

" You should never have married him, " he retaliated, " or did you think you'd have a fighting chance? "

The full realisation of what she had done to him hit her with great force. " All right, Nick, I made a total mess of things. I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time. I was so full of panic and grief. "

His handsome features were taut with emotion. " Because you knew you were pregnant to me. God, are you so bloody neurotic you have to deny it? "

" You went away. " She bowed her head, her eyelashes like black feathery wings against her pale cheeks. " After that my whole life was derailed. "

This he knew all about. He moved agitatedly away from her, determined the portrait of Marcus Sheffield would come down from the library. How blind that man had been. Such a colossal ego sacrificing his own daughter. The daughter he adored. It made no sense. " Would you ever have tried to contact me again? " His voice was quieter, but he couldn't hold back the anger. " Would you ever have let me know I had a daughter or were you content to live a lie? To start up again with someone else your father hand-picked? "

They might have been absolutely isolated. The only two people left in the world.

Her own anger ignited from his. " What would you have had me do? Plunge back into a love that has dominated my life? Do you know what it's like to sleep with someone night after night, year in and year out, and ache for someone else? " A long-damned current burst out of her. " That's what it was like for me… I felt exploited. Martin thought he could win through in the end, win control, and he didn't care how he did it. It didn't happen, and God, the loneliness! "

An exquisite spear of pain cut into him. " Don't you understand, Suzannah, you did it all? "

" Am I going to have to pay forever? " She leapt to her feet, intent on rushing past him but he pulled her to him with a furious curse.

" Do you want to see my scars? Do you? "

" Damn you, Nick. " She flinched when she was filled with the most incredible liquefying desire. " I can't take any more. " Her whole body felt hot and heavy, full of the aches of a frustrated passion that rose from her very core.

" Give yourself to me, " he said in a low, bewitching voice.

She thought she would curl up in flames.

" Suzannah! "

She couldn't trust her voice, only the primal intelligence of her body that was pressing forward to fuse with his.

" I can't move. " She gave the ghost of a little moan.

" Don't think about it. I'll carry you. "

It was absurdly easy for him to lift her off the ground, and carry her along the softly lit corridor to the haven of her room.

The same room where Charlotte had been given the gift of life.

He put her down on the bed where she lay arms outstretched, one trailing gracefully to the carpeted floor. " I want to undress you. " His voice was infinitely moving, no longer harsh and angry.

" Kiss me, " she begged, without the defences she had learned over the years. This was Nick, the person who with their daughter meant more to her than anyone else in the world.

He bent over her, his striking face deeply passionate, visibly affected by her beauty and her infinitely tender expression. This was his Suzannah before all the terrible things had happened to them. He pressed his mouth down over hers, feeling the soft cushions of her lips part for him so he could slide his tongue over hers and move deeper into the sweet, moist cavity. His heart was rapping hard against his ribs, flesh tautening, tightening, expanding, taking the dominant role. How could anyone pervert their love? She was sighing gently beneath his hands, moving her slender body accommodatingly so he could strip the slip of a dress from her. How many times over the past years had he imagined this? Sometimes his dreams of her had continued right through the night. Until dawn. His body contorted with sexual frustration and the pain of loss.

His accelerated heartbeat thundered in his ears like breakers on the shore. Finally her naked body was bathed in the rose glow from the bedside lamps and he sat completely still staring at her as if she was his very own creation, the same luminous skin, the same girlish frame, delicate shoulders, breasts small and high, waist narrow, long feather-light limbs, the slight curve of her stomach. Childbirth hadn't changed her at all, the years Martin White had bent over her beautiful body. The thought coming as it did almost tore him apart, his hardened features incapable of veiling it.

" I'm so sorry, so sorry. " She looked up at him with her wonderful violet eyes, pulses fluttering at her throat and her temples.

He stood up so violently he sent some ornament flying. She was all around him and he couldn't hold his hunger to check. It was like a blinding flame, a furnace, a force field, whatever you wanted to call it and it was exerting its full power. On him. On her. He could see the coursing blood flushing her body. He could see her fearful elation.

He began stripping off his own clothes in a long streak of ecstasy, his nostrils flaring, as he imagined finding the furthest reaches of her. Places no one had gone but him. Tonight he would obliterate all memories of the past from her mind. He was back to claim his woman. And his child.

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