Marriage And Miracles

Angry grey eyes snapped back to hers. ‘Why didn’t you, then?’

‘Because I stupidly believed you loved me,’ she countered, her agony switching to outrage. ‘I stupidly believed in you!’

‘Yes, that was stupid, I’ll grant you that.’

Gemma could only keep shaking her head at him. ‘You don’t have any conscience at all where women are concerned, do you? You’re like that hero in your play. Sex and lust are all there is for you. You probably did sleep with Irene as Damian said you did.’

Nathan smiled a smile that sent a shiver down Gemma’s spine.

‘You know, some day that bastard is going to get his just deserts.’

‘I suppose you’re going to say he’s lying about that as well,’ she said bitterly.

‘Not if agreeing I went to bed with Irene will get you out of that door and out of my life.’

Gemma blinked her shock.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he swept on irritably. ‘Of course I didn’t sleep with that pathetic bitch. Give me some credit for taste! But I dare say you won’t believe me. If you did, that would mean your precious uncle must have lied to you.’

‘I...I suppose Irene could have lied to him about it,’ Gemma said hesitatingly.

‘Good thinking, Gemma,’ he praised, but in a mocking tone. ‘Amazing how one and one doesn’t always make two, isn’t it? Sometimes you have to look outside the dots.’

Gemma frowned. ‘And should I look outside the dots with you, Nathan? Could you be driving me away because you think it’s for my own good, that you’re no good for me?’

His laughter was dark but not without humour. ‘That’s so splendidly noble, I wish I could embrace it! But that would be lying, my darling,’ he said, walking towards her with such a wicked glitter in his eyes that she shrank back against the wall next to the door.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she whispered.

Nathan’s raised eyebrows were pure sarcasm. ‘Don’t touch you? A few minutes ago you were dying for me to touch you. What’s happened to change that, I wonder? Are you beginning to doubt my sense of honour? Are you afraid that at any moment I might change into the animal of the other day?’

‘I’m not afraid of you, Nathan,’ she lied bravely.

‘Then you should be,’ he warned in a raw whisper. ‘Because if you stay here any longer, Gemma, my sweet, I might set about really corrupting you, just for the hell of it!’

Gemma stared at him, appalled at this dark stranger who had been her husband but whom she did not know.

‘Too late,’ he mocked. ‘I withdraw the offer. Besides, I just remembered I promised Jody a night of indefatigable energy. If I use some of it up on you, darling, I just won’t have enough to go around.’

Gemma’s hand came up and slapped him. His head jerked back and a red mark immediately stained his cheek, but he made no move to retaliate, merely rubbed his cheek and smiled a faintly wry smile. ‘Feel better now?’ he taunted softly.

‘I hate and despise you, Nathan Whitmore,’ Gemma rasped, her voice shaking. ‘How you can look yourself in the mirror in the morning, I have no idea. I came here to this party tonight hoping that we could get back together again. I was prepared to forgive you everything because I thought you loved me, and because I loved you. But I don’t love you any more. I refuse to love someone so unworthy of being loved.’

‘You’ve no idea how pleased I am to hear that, Gemma. Because I don’t want your love. It’s the last thing I want from you.’

Gemma could no longer deny the harsh sincerity behind the chillingly delivered words. But oh, dear God...what was going to become of her...without Nathan...without her dreams...? What point was there in going on?

‘So why are you still standing there?’ he jeered. ‘What more is there to be said? You’re free, Gemma. Free of our marriage. Free of loving me. Free of me. I’d say you’re one lucky girl, wouldn’t you? Now leave me be,’ he bit out savagely, and turned his back on her.

Gemma somehow made it out of the room and back to Celeste, who took one look at her and called for Byron to take them both home.

CHAPTER THREE

LIFE went on.

Gemma would not have believed it could after her traumatic meeting with Nathan. Surely she must die from the pain and the hurt that was consuming every fibre of her being? Nathan didn’t love her; had never loved her. All her dreams and hopes for the future were obliterated by that one cruel admission. As for the past...it was almost as painful to look back as it was to look bleakly forward. Her marriage had been a mockery, doomed from the start. Why hadn’t she heeded the signs? Why had she stubbornly refused to see what others saw?

Because you are a naïve silly bitch, that’s why, an angry inner voice kept telling her. Or you were!

It was this angry inner voice that sustained her through the following day, refusing to let her break down totally, although there were frequent bouts of weeping, as well as long hours of deep depression. But in the end anger, plus a healthy dose of burgeoning bitterness, stopped Gemma from succumbing to total despair.

When she woke on Sunday to the news that Nathan had delivered her car during the night—complete with the rest of her belongings—leaving again without speaking to anyone, her sense of outrage knew no bounds. What had happened to the man she had first met and fallen in love with? Where was this wicked stranger coming from? Had he always been there, hiding behind that cool conservative façade, that seemingly decent persona? He must have been, she supposed, her bewilderment almost as great as her disillusionment.

Still, she wasn’t the only one to be fooled. Byron had clearly been taken in, as had Lenore. Ava and Melanie, however, had clearly had their misgivings about him all along. Jade had been ambivalent, warning her off Nathan at first before unexpectedly coming round to believe in his love for Gemma almost as much as she had.

But he hadn’t been able to sustain the act indefinitely, had he? His dark side had finally surfaced, and surfaced with a vengeance. She now felt utterly mortified at having forgiven him for the rape. He had probably enjoyed every perverse moment, his supposed feelings of betrayed love being nothing but a bruised ego that his sexual possession might have dared turn to another man.

By Sunday evening, Gemma found solace in a bitter determination not to fall apart over the bastard’s black treachery. He wasn’t worth it. So on the Monday morning she gritted her teeth and went back to work.

From the first moment she walked into the shop, Gemma realised that the news of her separation from Nathan must have got around, because all the girls were extraordinarily nice to her, which was something new.

When Byron had given her a job as a sales assistant in the more exclusive of his two city stores, Gemma had gradually noticed an underlying resentment from the rest of the staff. She supposed they thought her employment smacked of nepotism, even though she had quickly proved herself a very competent salesperson, her Japanese better than anyone else’s. Gemma believed she might have overcome her workmates’ underlying hostility if Nathan hadn’t vetoed her going out with them on social occasions.

In the circumstances, she didn’t blame them for thinking she was a snob, so she was quite touched by their kindness to her that morning, and found it hard not to dissolve into tears. With a stiff upper lip and a lot of false smiles, she made it through the morning, but as one o’clock approached Gemma couldn’t wait to spend an hour sitting by herself in a park somewhere.

At a couple of minutes past one she was walking through the hotel arcade, heading for the main exit, her eyes on the black and white tiled floor, when a man’s voice suddenly spoke from just behind her right shoulder. ‘Going my way, sweetheart?’

Gemma ground to a halt and spun round, her startled brown eyes quickly filling with reproach. ‘Damian, you bad man. You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that.’

‘Sometimes it’s the only way,’ he returned drily. ‘Some girls don’t answer telephone calls.’

Gemma coloured guiltily. ‘I’m sorry. I was going to ring you back, but I forgot. Truly. I...I was a bit of a mess over the weekend.’

‘I can imagine. Celeste filled me in on what happened last Friday night. Which is why I was so startled when Ava told me on the phone this morning that you’d gone to work.’

‘It seemed the best thing to do.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. I’m delighted to see you’re determined not to be down-in-the-mouth and dreary. Life’s too short to waste it mooning over bastards like Nathan Whitmore.’

Gemma’s reaction was instant and quite absurd. She wanted to scream at Damian that he had no right to judge Nathan, that he knew nothing about him at all! Just in time, she controlled the quite irrational urge, recognising it as a hangover from what she had so very recently and stupidly believed in her husband and his love for her. ‘Yes, well, I’d rather not talk about Nathan, if you don’t mind,’ she said instead.

‘Your wish is my command.’ Damian took her arm. ‘What would you like to talk about over lunch?’

Gemma felt a reluctant smile pull at her mouth as she was masterfully propelled towards the street. ‘Who said I was having lunch with you?’

‘You don’t want to have lunch with your poor old uncle?’ he replied teasingly.

She laughed at this description of himself. Damian was only twenty-nine. He was also the epitome of ‘tall dark and handsome’, with the added elegance and style that being very wealthy provided. Most men would have looked good in the suit Damian was wearing. He looked fantastic. And he knew it.

‘Lunch is fine,’ she agreed. ‘But as I said, a mutual tongue-lashing of Nathan is out. I also don’t want to hear any sarcasm about Byron and Celeste being my parents.’

‘Hey!’ Damian put up his hands in mock defeat. ‘What do you think I am, an unfeeling monster? All I want is to have lunch with my very beautiful niece who, by the way, looks gorgeous with her hair up. You must wear it that way to the party this Friday night.’

‘P...party? What kind of party?’ Damian’s sweet flattery had been unacceptable. His inviting her to a party made her uncomfortable for some unaccountable reason. Were Nathan’s vile accusations about Damian still lingering at the back of her mind? It seemed the only reasonable explanation for her sudden unease. Or maybe her trust in the male sex in general had received such an incredible blow that it would be a long time before she could trust another man.

‘Just a dance party, Gemma,’ Damian explained with an indulgent smile. ‘They’re very popular with young people. A lot of my friends go to them. I thought it might make you feel better to get out and about, dance a little and meet some new people.’

It did sound innocent enough. And Damian was her uncle. Why was she hesitating?

‘I...I’m not sure.’

‘Hey, no sweat. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do any more. You’re your own boss now, remember? Just think about it and if you decide you need some cheering up come Friday night give me a call.’ Smiling, he linked arms with her again. ‘Now let’s go to lunch before your hour is up and we haven’t had a thing to eat!’

* * *

GEMMA DID NEED cheering up by Friday night. Frankly, she needed cheering up a lot earlier than that.

Work occupied her mind during the day, but come night time, Belleview was hardly a hive of distracting activity and conversation. Byron, quite rightly, was spending a lot of time with Celeste, courting her as he should have courted her all those years ago. And Ava, God love her, either disappeared into her studio with Vince or went out with him. Knowing Ava’s history, Gemma did not have the heart to spoil her fun at this glorious time in her life.

So Gemma pretended to be quite happy staying home alone watching television, saying she was tired after being on her feet all day. Yet all the while she was getting more and more depressed. By the time Damian telephoned her on the Thursday night, it didn’t take much persuasion for her to say yes.

* * *

DAMIAN HUNG UP, not bothering to hide his devilish glee. No one could see him. Celeste had just left with dear old Byron, and Cora was out in the kitchen, clearing up after dinner.

‘At last,’ he muttered, and let his mind run free over how Friday night should pan out.

Sweet little Gemma would have no resistance at all to the drugs he would slip into her drinks. In the end, she would have no resistance to him.

Damian actually trembled with the anticipated pleasure of finally having her in his power. God, but he had waited months for this moment. Never had a woman possessed his brain and his body as much as Gemma had.

From the first moment he’d seen her at that ball he’d wanted her, wanted her with a want that had gradually become an obsession. Her being his niece didn’t change a thing. If anything, it would add a delightfully perverse edge to the experience.

Damian made his way slowly back upstairs while his thoughts raced feverishly on.

He was going to have to be very careful the first time. He would have to seem to give her everything she was looking for, and obviously needing. Tenderness. Comfort. Love...

Later, when she was totally addicted to the mindless ecstasy that the drugs and he could give her, he would introduce her to more refined pleasures. It was amazing the pain a woman could endure—and even welcome—when she was high on the right cocktail.

He would have to video-tape everything, of course, once it got to that stage. Otherwise she might be tempted to tell someone after the drugs wore off. He couldn’t have that.

Damian smiled. He might even make some money out of her. It wouldn’t be the first time. Amazing how much women were prepared to pay rather than have tapes of their sexual exploits posted to their husbands or their families. They never breathed a word, either. Damian considered it was ironic that it was Nathan himself who had first given him the idea of taping sexual encounters to blackmail women. Poor old Irene...

In a way, it was a form of justice that Nathan’s own wife be similarly blackmailed.

Not that justice ever really interested Damian. He had only one aim in life.

Pleasure.

Sheer unadulterated pleasure.

He could hardly wait for tomorrow night to come.

* * *

BYRON DIDN’T COME home for dinner on the Friday night. He’d organised to meet Celeste after work for dinner in town and a night at the theatre. Ava and Vince went out for dinner as well, over to Vince’s family. Which meant Gemma would be alone at Belleview when Damian came to pick her up at nine o’clock. She hadn’t told anyone yet about the dance party, and now that she didn’t have to she was relieved.

Gemma hadn’t been looking forward to facing the frowns of disapproval. All the Whitmores thought very badly of Damian, yet in all honesty she had never seen any evidence to support his reputation as a wild and dissolute playboy. Any concerns she had ever had over the man had come from everyone around Belleview bad-mouthing him, as they had bad-mouthed Celeste. He was probably as innocent of any real wrongdoing as his sister had proved to be.

Nathan had been the chief castigator of both Campbells, yet it was Nathan who had proven to be the wicked one.

Still, it worried Gemma that she hadn’t told Ava some white lie about going out somewhere. What if Ava came home before Gemma and found her bed empty? The poor darling would worry and Gemma didn’t want that.

In the end, she decided to leave a note propped up on her pillow saying a friend from work had rung and she’d gone out to a party, and not to worry if she got home late. Byron had given her a set of keys to the house, as well as a remote control for the gates, so there was no trouble with letting herself in.

With that problem solved, Gemma set about having a relaxing bath, then getting herself ready. She had plenty of time—apparently these parties didn’t start early. Neither were they dressy affairs. Damian had suggested she wear something casual. Jeans or a skirt and top would be fine.

Gemma’s wardrobe was full of mostly classic or tailored garments but she did have a reddish-brown leather skirt which, when teamed with a simple cream silk shirt looked fairly casual. The colour also suited the auburn highlights the hairdresser regularly put into her shoulder-length brown hair. Remembering the compliment Damian had given her earlier in the week, she put it up as she had that day in a loose knot, with lots of wispy bits left around her face and neck. She put gold loops in her ears and a couple of gold chains round her neck. As it was night time, she wore a reasonable amount of make-up, high heels and perfume.

Gemma was ready and waiting, the gates open and her cream clutch bag in hand, when Damian drove in shortly before nine. His low wolf whistle when she opened the door unnerved her slightly, as did his words.

‘God, you look great. I’ll have to beat the men off with broomsticks.’

When Gemma frowned her immediate unease, Damian smiled reassuringly at her. ‘Don’t worry, love, you’re with me. If we don’t tell anyone I’m your uncle, they won’t come anywhere near you. Damian’s bird always has a hands-off sign on her.’

Gemma wasn’t entirely reassured by this idea, and neither did she like others thinking they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but she could see the sense of it if she didn’t want to ward off unwanted advances all night. The thought of dancing with perfectly strange men was suddenly anathema to her. Why had she ever agreed to come? She was not ready for this in any way, shape or form.

‘Even if I went around telling everyone I was your uncle,’ Damian added with an amused gleam in his eye, ‘no one would believe me.’

He was right, Gemma conceded as she looked him over. He looked younger than his twenty-nine years, especially when dressed all in black, as he was tonight. Absolutely everything he had on was black, from his high-necked shirt and casual woollen trousers down to his socks and shoes. There was even an ebony ring flashing on one finger and a black-faced watch on his wrist. At least no one would stare at them together as they had often done at her and Nathan.

A jab of intense dismay made her stiffen for a moment. Why do I keep thinking of him? Why can’t I forget him as he has obviously forgotten me?

You know why, taunted a dark inner voice, and Gemma’s hand instinctively moved across her stomach. God, what if she was pregnant? She didn’t want to be. Not now. Not any more. She wanted to forget Nathan, to put him right out of her mind for the rest of her life.

‘Are you feeling all right, Gemma?’ Damian asked with such a warm concern she felt terribly guilty. Her worry was probably all for nothing anyway. Her period would be along any day, once her cycle got back to normal.

‘I’m fine,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘And you’re quite right, Damian. We make a handsome couple.’

He smiled, radiating that dazzling charm which no doubt sent all the women’s hearts fluttering. But Gemma knew her heart was unlikely to flutter again for a long time. Not that it had ever fluttered for Damian. Nathan’s jealousy had been way off the mark, and quite wasted.

A sharp bitterness shot through Gemma as she thought of all she had suffered at Nathan’s hands because of what his sick mind imagined was going on between her and Damian. In a weird kind of way, she almost wished there had been something between them to justify the treatment she had endured. There was nothing worse than being accused of something you hadn’t done, nothing worse than being punished when you were innocent.

‘Stop thinking about that bastard,’ Damian said abruptly, sending her thoughts scattering when he curled his hand around her empty one and pulled her down the front steps.

Gemma found herself belted into the passenger seat of Damian’s red Ferrari before she could say boo.

‘Wait!’ she cried out when he zoomed through the open gates and would have taken off before she had a chance to close them. He screeched on the brakes, darting her a frustrated look.

‘I have to close the gates,’ she explained patiently, whereupon he gave her a sighing smile.

‘For a second there, I thought you’d changed your mind about coming.’

‘Never,’ she said, determined to dismiss Nathan from her mind for tonight. He didn’t deserve thinking about. ‘Where is this dance party, by the way?’

‘At a pub in North Sydney. You won’t know it. It’s in the back streets and not the newest establishment around, but the music’s great and the drinks are cheap.’

Gemma laughed. ‘I wouldn’t think you’d care much if the drinks were cheap or not.’

Damian flashed her a wicked grin. ‘Watch the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves,’ he quipped. ‘Light me a cigarette, would you? They’re on the dash there, and there’s a lighter in my left trouser pocket. Can’t get it myself. Must concentrate on the road. This traffic’s hell.’

The traffic on the Pacific highway was indeed bad. Every man and his dog seemed to be heading for the city. Nevertheless, Gemma felt very uncomfortable doing something as intimate as fishing around in Damian’s trouser pocket. Luckily, she found the lighter quickly and was soon placing a glowing cigarette between Damian’s lips. Their eyes met briefly as she did so and Gemma quickly looked away. For there had been nothing platonic in the look Damian had just given her. It had been oddly intense.

Either that, or her imagination was getting the better of her. The latter seemed the most likely.

Damian had always been a perfect gentleman in her company. Always. Nathan’s wicked warnings had put the fear of the devil into her, Gemma decided. Listening to scurrilous gossip about people was wrong. And listening to unfounded fears was wrong too. She resolved not to do it any more.

With this in mind Gemma turned a smiling face back towards Damian. ‘It’s really sweet of you to take me out like this. I really needed it. I was feeling awfully down.’

‘I know, honey, I know,’ he said kindly. ‘Leave it to dear old Uncle Damian. He knows exactly what you need to cheer you up...’

CHAPTER FOUR

LUKE wouldn’t normally have been seen dead at a dance party. At thirty, he considered himself too old for such goings-on. He’d briefly gone through a stage for a couple of years after finishing uni where he haunted clubs, pubs and discos every Friday and Saturday night, but those days were long gone. His life was Campbell Jewels now.

He’d only come here tonight as a favour to his mother. Apparently his kid sister, Mandy, had been coming here nearly every Friday night lately and his mother wanted him to check the place out. Luke thought she was being over-protective, since Mandy was twenty and a very sensible girl, but he’d promised to drop in and see for himself if there was anything to worry about.

He stood in a corner of the room, shaking his head at what was before his eyes. How had he ever enjoyed this kind of thing? The screechingly loud music was enough to give anyone an instant migraine. Add to this the garish lights flashing on and off, the heavy pall of smoke and the crush of a hundred sweaty gyrating bodies in an area where possibly fifty might comfortably have fitted, and you had a scene he found quite repulsive.

Still, Luke wasn’t too old that he couldn’t appreciate Mandy would quite like such an atmosphere, but he was perturbed by how open the drug use was. Nobody bothered to hide the pill-popping and marijuana-smoking. Luke had also seen a couple of suspicious-looking packages changing hands and quite a few empty syringes in the bins in the toilet block. He began to worry if Mandy made a habit of coming to this place she might end up not being so sensible.

So Luke stayed in the dimly lit corner and waited, hoping she would show up and he could have a brotherly word in her ear. But after a further half-hour’s peering through the smoke haze Mandy still hadn’t turned up. He was about to leave when his attention was suddenly captured by a man dressed in black, an exceptionally handsome man with slick black hair, wicked black eyes and flashing white teeth.