Mistaken Mistress

Eden rose from the armchair and returned to the bedroom where she finished dressing. She was looking forward to lunching with her friend, Carly. They had gone to school and university together. Like her, Carly had taken a degree in Law and joined a firm specialising in Family Law. Carly would have to get back to work, but Eden had taken accumulated leave from her grandfather’s firm not only to maximize the amount of time she could spend with Owen, but to spare Redmond Sinclair the painful memories the sight of her must evoke. Cassandra had been the one to hold them together. Now that she had gone, so had the bond. Proof positive if she ever needed it she and Redmond Sinclair were not of the same blood.

After a companionable lunch with her friend, Eden did a little leisurely shopping then returned to the hotel late afternoon. Owen should be back from the coast by now. No doubt the new owner of a luxury motor yacht. Later in the evening they were to dine with Lang Forsyth. A dinner at which Owen proposed to reveal her true identity. That should put the arrogant judgmental Lang Forsyth very nicely in his place. Strangely enough she gained no pleasure from the thought. Owen thought the world of him.

Lang Forsyth looked what he was, a man from a privileged world who nevertheless knew what it was like to fight to survive. Physically he was very striking. Well over six feet, very lean but powerfully built; she had noted the wide shoulders. A highly individual face; dark, very definite features, arrogant high-bridged nose, the mouth quite sensuous, hollows under the high cheekbones. The whole impression was one of tremendous vigour and vitality, the excitement coming from the ice-grey eyes. A total surprise when his hair was near black and his polished skin was tanned to dark gold. She was sure that Lang Forsyth would never be her friend. Not in a lifetime. But he was Owen’s close friend and partner. She had to remember that.

The sound of the phone in the quiet suite surprised her. She picked it up, murmuring, “The Gold Suite.”

“Miss Sinclair?”

She drew a sharp breath, already aware of the caller’s identity. “Yes, Mr. Forsyth.”

“I’m in the lobby,” he said, his tone almost flat. “I’m coming up.”

Suddenly the air-conditioned room seemed cold. Unease entered Eden’s mind. What was it he wanted? This wasn’t the time for confrontation.

She went to the door at his knock, opening it and standing back. His striking face was drained of all expression though she thought there was a pallor beneath his tan.

“Sit down.” He spoke more gently than she had yet heard.

“What is it?” She was so used now to unhappiness and grief she instantly caught his mood. “Is it Owen?”

His dark brows contracted. “I don’t know a good way to tell you this. Owen has been involved in a three-car pile-up on the Pacific Highway. It seems the driver of one of the cars suffered a seizure of some kind, ploughed into the first car, while Owen’s ploughed into him.”

Her knees went from under her and her eyelids flickered. “Oh My God!”

The next thing she knew she was lying back in an armchair with Lang Forsyth tapping her wrists. “Are you okay?”

“I knew something was wrong.” She kept her head down, unaware he was standing over her with an expression of concern, not unmixed with worry about the difficulties she now presented. Delma had to be informed. Owen had been conscious for a good part of his ordeal, giving the police his name and particulars and the person to be contacted.

Owen, as in so many other things, had left it to Lang to break the news. To Owen’s wife. And his mistress. He hadn’t rung Delma yet. Indeed he was with this girl, even trying to protect her.

“Where is he?” she raised her dark head to ask; her violet gaze resting on him.

He named the hospital, hearing her heartfelt sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have told you it wasn’t fatal.”

“My mother’s was.” She spoke very quietly.

He steeled himself not to react. “I beg your pardon?”

“My mother was killed in her car just over six months ago,” she told him from the depths of her grief.

“I’m very sorry.” Her news appalled him. “That must have been a great grief and a great shock to you. Now this. I’m going to the hospital now.” He could no longer delay.

“I’ll come with you.” She rose from the chair, trying very hard to calm herself.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He couldn’t hold off his frown.

“I don’t care what you think,” she said, without challenge. “If you don’t take me I’ll get a cab. I want to find out exactly how Owen is. I love him. I’m not going to lose him now.”

Her intensity was such he believed her, yet he had to chide her. “You must remember he has a wife and child.”

She looked at him as if that had no significance. “What has that got to do with me?”

Oddly he felt no anger. Just a quiet despair. “You don’t look callous.” In fact she looked the most sensitive of creatures, her beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Owen had intended to tell you all about me tonight,” she said, as though she pitied him.

That restored his hostility. “Frankly, Miss Sinclair, that fills me with dismay. You must realise this is going to be a very difficult time. I have to contact Delma, Owen’s wife.”

“I know.”

There was a secrecy to her, to Owen, he couldn’t fathom.

“Why haven’t you done it before?” she asked. “Why not before telling me?”

Why indeed. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he answered with more force than he intended. “We both know I have concerns about you. You’ll have to get out of this suite. I’ll attend to everything.”

“Of course.” She inclined her dark head. “I’m so grateful you’re here with your odd combination of condemnation and concern. Are you going to take me to the hospital?”

Her insistence left him reeling. “If I can trust you to keep perfectly quiet. I feel sure Owen’s accident is going to be reported. There could be news people about. Owen is quite a celebrity. Most certainly in the North.”

“And I’m someone second rate?” she asked with gentle irony, fixing him with her soulful eyes.

He couldn’t bear to think of her and Owen together. “You’re a young woman who’s happened to make a bad mistake. I can’t claim to understand Owen’s motives in not telling me about you long before this. We’ve shared so much over the years I’ve worked with him.”

“He thinks very highly of you,” she said. “My identity will come out soon enough. If not while Owen is ill then sometime in the future. Should anything happen to him, God forbid, I’ll quietly disappear.”

He found he didn’t want this to happen, yet he spoke curtly, cursing himself, but driven by shock and anxiety. “You may think that now.”

“What are you so afraid of? Do you think I’m after Owen’s money?”

“Forgive me if I believe Owen’s money is a factor.”

She shook her dark head. “You couldn’t be more wrong. My mother left me financially secure. There’s my grandfather, also. You know nothing about me, Mr. Forsyth.”

“Except you’ve got my friend, Owen, spellbound. Anyway, what good’s talk? If you’re coming with me, come. If you’ve got belongings here, get them. I assume if you’re so financially secure you have a good home?”

She flushed, the sheen of tears in her beautiful eyes. “You’re making far too many assumptions as it is, Mr. Forsyth. If you give me a moment I’ll pack what I have. We were to have had dinner with you tonight, instead Fate has stepped in yet again.”

They never spoke a word throughout the fifteen-minute journey to the hospital though Lang found himself watching her continually in case she started to crumble. He even had to stop himself reaching for her hand. Such a slim wrist, a network of delicate blue veins beating there. Two gold bracelets. He knew gold. Both were unmistakably heavy eighteen carat. Patek Philippe watch with diamonds and a mother-of-pearl face. All very expensive items. Had Owen given them to her? He rarely gave Delma presents though he allowed her to buy whatever she liked. For herself. There was a huge difference. He was beginning to feel more and more sorry for Delma. She would take it very badly when she found out about this girl. He was silent under the great surge of anxiety he felt. What if Owen died? God, hadn’t his own father slipped so easily out of life?

“Are you ready for this?” he asked as they made their way to the ward.

Her voice rang with hope and conviction. “I know he’s alive. I’m sure of it. He won’t leave me. Not now.”

“You look like you’re going to faint.” Indeed she was snow-white. Her took her arm as stabs of pity pierced him, his manner at that moment more protective than he realised. She was tall for a woman but beside him she seemed so small.

“I haven’t fainted so far, have I?” Her lips moved.

“You did briefly at the hotel,” he reminded her. “Anyway, we’re here now. Please let me do the talking.”

“Of course.” She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t pull away, either. That had some significance but he didn’t want to look into it now. This was Owen’s young love.

The surgeon was waiting for them, and they briefly shook hands. He needed to scrub up. “Mr. Carter will undergo immediate surgery,” he told them, looking from one to the other as though they were a pair. “For internal injuries. He’s bleeding and has broken ribs and a broken collarbone, but he’s in good shape for his age. He’s conscious at the moment, but he’s been sedated. You can speak to him for just a moment, if you like. Now you must excuse me.”

Even as the surgeon turned away they saw Owen being wheeled out into the corridor.

“Come on,” he heard himself saying to her, upset beyond words at the whole damn business.

Owen’s dazed eyes rested on him first. “Lang!” He put up a hand and Lang took it, feeling the strange chill off Owen’s skin. “We’re here for you, Owen,” he said, allowing his strong feelings to show. “Eden is here, too.” He used her name knowing that he liked it. It suited her.

“Eden?” Owen tried to turn his head, clearly excited, agitated and the medical attendant shook a warning head at them.

She came forward, taking Owen’s other hand, bending over him, her lovely face as sweet and innocent as a Madonna’s.

The expression that blazed out of Owen’s face caused him to look away. This was love. Real love. God! And it was going to last. He knew that now. No one, not wife, not child, not partner, was going to separate them.

Ward Sister came up briskly. “Thank you,” she said with what was clearly a dismissal. “Mr. Carter is due in surgery. You’re waiting?”

“Yes.” He spoke for both of them. “We want to be here.”

Sister nodded. “There’s no telling how long it might be.”

“We’ll wait.” Eden spoke for the first time. “We couldn’t possibly leave.”

But Owen wanted desperately to detain them. “Lang,” he called, his voice weak and slurred.

“Go now,” Sister said. “You’re disturbing the patient.”

“I think he wants to tell me something.” Lang started to move back towards Owen but Sister stepped with authority between them.

“If you don’t mind.” She lifted a hand to signal a medical attendant who wheeled Owen away.

He sat Eden in the waiting room, a cup of coffee in hand before he put through a call to Owen’s home from the privacy of the empty corridor. He had spoken to the Carter housekeeper initially, not filling her in before he had a chance to speak to Delma, but he had left the message for Delma to ring him on his mobile the moment she got in. The housekeeper sensing something was wrong had apologised profusely for not knowing exactly where Mrs. Carter had gone. Mrs. Carter was a busy lady, sometimes she forgot to say.

It seemed an age before Delma’s call came through. He saw the girl’s eyes as he left the waiting room again. She seemed to know intuitively this was Owen’s wife.

Delma didn’t take the news calmly. She was a volatile woman, her cries so despairing they echoed quite stridently over the phone line. It was as though Owen couldn’t possibly pull through. He tried his very best to reassure her but in the end had to fall back on telling her he would ring the instant they had news.

“That was upsetting?” The girl’s eyes flew to his as he took a chair beside her. They were alone. Another couple had been there, but they had left.

He nodded, not surprised by her perceptiveness. “That was Delma. She’s quite distraught.”

“She loves him,” the girl said as though that explained it. As indeed it did.

“I couldn’t convince her she will see him again.” He thrust an agitated hand through his hair.

“It must be terrible to be so far away.”

That incited his retort. “Would you have risked being here had Delma been in the city?”

She looked undismayed. “Of course. But then Owen would have made things clear.”

“That’s childish talk,” he answered, and shook his head. “You truly believe Delma, his wife, would just walk away? Miss Sinclair, you don’t know her. I wouldn’t care to see Delma humbled and humiliated. She wouldn’t react with quiet dignity. She’d turn into a tigress before your eyes. I don’t think that’s an exaggeration. Certainly for her son, Owen’s heir.”

“Tell me about him,” she invited, speaking in a gentle tranced tone. Perhaps she was in shock. “Robbie. Roberto?” She longed to say “my little brother, my half brother,” but she had given her word to Owen he would be the one to break their grand news.

“My godson,” he said with deliberate irony. “I have another. My sister, Georgia’s, boy, Ryan. Both boys are of an age. Why do you want to know?” He allowed his eyes to move over her face, feature by feature, almost dividing it up into segments like a painter. Above and beyond the physical perfection of her features was a quality that gave her real power. Sensitivity? Mystery? Refinement? Maybe it was all three.

“I want to know everything about Owen,” she said. “He’s told me so much but you have a different perspective. Certainly of me.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked with heavy emphasis. “Owen has a wife yet he’s obsessed with you.”

“Obsessions aren’t uncommon.”

“Especially with women like you.”

Tension fairly crackled in the air around them. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I’m like?” she invited, not avoiding his lancing gaze, but suddenly challenging it.

“I have no desire to make you unhappier than you are.” He kept his voice toneless. “You realise Delma will be flying down to Brisbane?”

“I’m surprised she’s not already on a plane.”

“Then don’t be surprised at all the complications. I assume you’re not going quietly?”

What else could she say? “Owen wants me here,” she answered gravely, almost certain Owen, facing surgery and unsure of the outcome for all the surgeon’s reassurances, had been about to divulge their “secret” when Sister intervened.

The surgeon in his operating greens, made an appearance much sooner than either of them had anticipated. His expression, as was the case with so many doctors dealing with life and death on a day-to-day basis, was austere.

“Oh God!” Eden gave a soft moan, every muscle in her body contracting. She wanted to believe everything was all right, but she was still traumatized by the death of her mother. She would never get over those shock moments when Redmond Sinclair, bone-white, had come to her office to give her the catastrophic news the police had found the wreck of her mother’s car. Cassandra was dead. Now Eden breathed in and out fighting off dread.

“It’s too early, isn’t it?” She appealed to this hard, strong, commanding man, Lang Forsyth, but he, too, looked like he was preparing himself for bad news. “What’s it been?”

“An hour ten.” A V-shaped cleft formed itself between his definite brows.

They were both on their feet, both persuaded the relatively short duration of the operation might mean the worst.

“He must go on living. He must. He can’t die.” Eden didn’t realise she was muttering aloud. Finding her father had given her own life meaning. She couldn’t lose him now. Her distress communicated itself to Lang at an intense level. He found himself putting a supportive arm around her, encircling her slender body. At the same time he felt a deep thrust of desire within him which he didn’t much welcome. It was dangerous, even shameful. The odd part was she leaned into him for all the world like she trusted him utterly. It was as if they were friends. But then she was desperate for comfort and support from anywhere. Even from him.

Only when the surgeon reached them did he give a brief but illuminating smile. He shook hands first with Lang, then Eden. “I’m happy to tell you everything went well.” He eyed them almost cheerfully. “Mr. Carter is a remarkably fit man. His heart is strong. We’ve repaired the internal injuries, stopped the bleeding. Orthopaedics will be looking at the collarbone. As you saw, he has some fairly extensive facial and chest abrasions, but they will heal. He’s been taken to the recovery room. You can see him for a few moments when he regains consciousness.”

The relief was enormous. Eden could feel the swoosh of blood through her veins. “I’ve got so much time to make up.” She spoke with deep gratitude. “So has Owen. Now our whole world can expand.”

He looked at her with disbelief. Keeping his tone level was a physical effort. “I wonder if you’ll say the same a year from now?” he asked soberly. “I’m not sure I could be happy walking over other people to achieve it. I know it happens all the time but these are my friends.”

His tone though quiet all but savaged her. Eden felt if she couldn’t speak out soon she’d become unstuck. Thank God, Owen would be able to make things abundantly clear very soon. She wanted to wipe away Lang Forsyth’s deep concerns. She wanted to be free of that daunting stare. She wanted to come out with the truth.

I’m Owen’s long-lost daughter. Just like in a work of fiction. I’m the daughter he never laid eyes on until six months ago. Only she knew Owen was set on revealing the whole story to his friend, rather than her.

Once more, Eden watched Lang Forsyth walk away to make his phone call to Owen’s wife. She’d thought many times over the past months Owen could have told his wife of her existence. The fact he hadn’t made her wonder anew about the state of their marriage. If the marriage was strong, she had a chance of being accepted. If the marriage was rocky Owen’s wife wouldn’t want any reminders of her husband’s past love right under her nose. In his exultation at finding her Owen appeared to have given little, if any, thought to the repercussions on his marriage. And what of young Robbie, his father’s heir? He mightn’t want a ready-made grown-up sister. One, moreover, to whom his father found no difficulties with demonstrating his love. Eden knew intuitively many problems lay ahead. All of them were merely human with human faults.

Eventually they were allowed to go to Recovery where they found Owen conscious despite his facial lacerations, looking better than they’d thought, but as expected, very groggy.

“How’s it going?” Lang bent over his friend, showing his relief and affection.

“Fine, pal.” Owen tried hard to sound normal but even for Owen the feat was beyond him. “Thanks for everything, Lang. I owe you so much. Where’s my beautiful girl?”

“Here, Owen.” Eden went forward, as she did so, the expression on Owen’s face almost embarrassing in its exclusion of the rest of the world.

Eden looked like she desperately wanted to hug him. She was half crying, her eyes for Owen alone.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Owen was imploring, his voice hurting but boundlessly tender.

Lang found once more he had to turn away. This was all too damned disturbing. It was going to alter lives. He knew, too, when he was beaten. Delma, God help her, had yet to find out.

In a little space of time they were ushered out. Owen was in no condition for more than a few words, though by sheer force of will he brought up his arm to wave at them as they moved through the door.

In the corridor Lang turned to look down at her. Tears were sliding silently down her face, yet she looked radiant. It was fascinating to see and it was driving him crazy.

He still had the use of the hire-car. It was parked in the leafy street, a short stroll from the hospital entrance.

“Your overnight bag is in the car,” he reminded her as they walked down the driveway. “I have time to drive you home.” Some knight, he thought. She was evoking such strange contradictory emotions in him; he had to fall back on simple good manners.

“I can get a cab,” she offered, giving him just a glimpse of a smile so sweet it touched the heart he had hardened against her.

“I can save you the trouble. Just tell me where you live?”

“Really you don’t have to.”

He cut her short. “You’ve had a shock. Owen is my friend. He would want me to look after you.”

“But you don’t have to?”

The thing was, he did, but he denied it almost sharply. “I guess I don’t.” He took her arm quickly to cross the busy road. “Well, maybe not altogether. You’re so young.”

“You can’t be all that much older?” She picked up the conversation when they were in the car, the strange intimacy reforming.

He gave her a tight smile. “A thousand years. I’m sure of it. I’m nearly thirty-two as it happens and you’re…?”

“Twenty-four. I can’t believe my mother would have gone and left me just before my birthday.”

“It was a car accident, you said?”

She didn’t answer; simply nodded her head. She knew she would choke up if she began to explain. Her grief over her mother’s death, so recent, would never subside. She was frightened, too, to begin thinking in terms of guilt. Had it really been suicide? Was she in some way to blame? She thought she had always been there for her mother yet her mother had never confided the true circumstances of her birth. That hurt her. Or hadn’t her mother been brave enough to say? Her true parentage had been a closely guarded secret until the very end.

That fact alone presented Eden with an enormous emotional hurdle.

They said nothing more to one another until they were on the freeway.

“You must know the city well,” she ventured, deeply regretting her own lack of truth. He hadn’t asked how to get to her suburb.

“Yes I do,” he clipped off.

“Owen’s wife must be tremendously relieved,” she continued gently. “Is she flying down?”

“Of course.”

He wasn’t inclined to talk, his handsome profile remote. Eden glanced out the window. It was dusk and the glorious tropical sunset was turning the city’s glassed towers and high-rises to glittering gold. In another ten minutes night would fall, as it did in the tropics, suddenly and completely, as if someone had thrown a switch. The multi-coloured sky, now rose, gold, scarlet, indigo, lime green at the horizon, would turn to a deep velvety purple. There were people everywhere. The picturesque paddle wheeler, the Kookaburra Queen was returning from a river cruise; the City Kats busy ferrying passengers across the river to the parks where they kept their cars.

She loved her home city. It had a delightful, leisurely way of life and a wonderful climate. Owen wanted her to go to live with him in North Queensland. To think of the number of times she had visited the Great Barrier Reef and the magnificent Daintree Rain Forest and had never known her birth father, Owen, was close by. She could even have driven past his home. There were some wonderful tropical homes in the far North. Fabulous sites overlooking the spectacular beauty of turquoise sea and emerald offshore islands.

“It’s been an extraordinary day.”

“Yes.”

“Are you only going to answer me in as few words as possible?”

He responded wearily. “Eden, what is it you want me to say?”

“You can say I accept you?”

His brief laugh was grim. “The only way I could accept you is as Owen’s long-lost child.”