The Australian Heiress (23 page)

Camille felt a compulsion to fill the fraught silence. “I feel very odd about it, too, Nicholas. Perhaps like many things in life it was meant to be. But first we had to come to terms with the past.”

He enfolded her closer in his arms. “Even now I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “I had no inkling. I’ve handled the box countless times. I might never have discovered the secret drawer if the box hadn’t fallen. The jolt activated the catch.”

He tilted her chin, held it. “So destiny works through you. Tell me what Hugo said.”

“I want us to read them together. I didn’t mean to upset you, Nicholas.” She felt the faint tremble in his hand.

“Upset me?” He bent to kiss her upturned mouth. “You’ve brought me out of the darkness into the light. I meant it when I told you I love you, Camille.”

Emotions flared, encompassing them both. “And I truly love you,” she said. “In loving you, my own conflicts have fallen away. I see Hugo’s letters as a gift to us both. I know when you read them, you’ll feel the same way.”

He kissed her again, with such a depth of feeling, such infinite tenderness, her heart sang.

“The deaths of our loved ones
had
to have meaning,” he said. “We’ve been through such a time
waiting.
I desperately need to make love to you again.”

“Please.” Her answer came out on a soft trembling breath.

He smiled his delight. “And I want to propose to you properly,” he said ardently. “I have the most wonderful ring.” He brought her left hand to his mouth, kissed it. “It should fit you like a glove. A perfect Colombian emerald to match your eyes, surrounded by diamonds.”

“I
am
in a dream,” Camille said.

“No, my love, it’s very real. Promise to be with me.” His voice was intense.

“Always.
Always!”
came her passionate declaration. Their hands were clasped, their eyes locked. Each felt an inseparable bond to the other.

But as they rejoiced in each other, another life crumbled.

“Ayaa!”

Camille and Nicholas heard the strange tormented sound. The cry of a broken heart or the eerie moaning of the wind? Either way, it lay cold fingers on the heart

Startled, they looked upward, trying to see where it was coming from, surprising a robed Clare Tennant as she withdrew from the balustrade of the gallery. The moonlight from the high casement window poured over her blond head, made a deathly white mask of her face.

How long had she been there? Camille felt a sick clutch of dismay mingled with real pity. Wasn’t jealousy a kind of hell? She realized in an instant that what she’d heard had been a cry of agony. Had Clare stared down at them while they were locked in each other’s arms?

For several seconds the silence seemed to ache, then Clare called to them in a strained voice, one that
seemed filled with self-loathing. “Oh, I’m so sorry, you two. Do forgive me. I was feeling restless. I thought a brandy might help.”

“I’ll get you one, Clare,” Nicholas offered, sounding polite but very remote.

“No, no, please don’t bother. The moment’s passed. It might only give me palpitations. Good night now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Neither of them responded. Nicholas took Camille’s hand and led her down the hallway past the drawing room to the library. Once inside he shut the door and locked it.

“My God, that woman works overtime invading our lives.”

“Please send her away, Nicholas,” Camille begged. “I truly believe she’s not quite sane.”

He ran a worried hand along his jaw. “It’s taken me a long time to see that.” He sighed heavily. “Well, with any luck at all Jack will be feeling well enough tomorrow to travel. I know he’s embarrassed at being so incapacitated.”

“She could’ve planned it.” Camille almost felt like crossing herself against an evil spirit. “I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if she was trying to make Jack ill. What’s in that blue bottle she keeps giving him?”

He shook his head. “It’s a harmless antacid remedy, Camille. I’ve checked it. I even drank a bit.”

“It wouldn’t be harmless if she put something in it.”

“What are you saying?” He threw up his hands, his black eyes glittering.

“I believe she’s a very strange woman. Used to
playing lots of games and hoping no one will catch her. She’s still in love with you, Nicholas.”

“Oh, God, no.” He gazed at Camille. “I’ll get them moving tomorrow. Now, where are these letters? I’m desperate to see them.”

She drew them out of the pocket of her robe and passed them to him.

“Let’s read them together!” He swept her up in his arms and carried her back to his room. He lowered himself into an armchair, where he cradled her in his arms.

Camille’s eyes followed every word as he read the letters aloud, stopping sometimes as emotion got too much.

Finally he refolded the last of the letters. “It’s the beginning of the healing, my love. Now we can move forward.”

He stood up, with her still in his arms, and carried her to his bed.

F
IRST THING
after breakfast Camille decided to go for a drive with Melissa. Nicholas had a meeting scheduled for nine with his manager, and Jack and Clare had yet to make an appearance.

“So where are you planning on going?” Nicholas asked as he walked with Camille and Melissa to the Jeep.

“I thought the Pink Lady Lagoon.” Camille smiled into his eyes, her body still humming from their intense lovemaking of the night before.

“We’re going to have a picnic there,” Melissa said.

“Anywhere else?”

“Would you have any objection if we drove as far as Wirra Wirra and did a little climbing?”

“Not at all.” He drew his fingers along her cheek. “You know the way. Take care. Approach it from the south face. That’s the easiest climb. Hold firmly to Melissa’s hand. She has a tendency to go charging off, as you know.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll do everything I’m told,” Melissa caroled.

“Good girl.” Nicholas waved them off, standing on the steps of the homestead until the Jeep disappeared.

Finally he made his way into the house, determined to get medical attention for Jack if he was no better. The idea of Clare’s dosing Jack with some dangerous substance seemed preposterous, in the light of day. He’d known the woman for years. Once he’d had reason to be grateful to her, yet now he realized someone else looked out of those large gray-blue eyes. Someone hard and very cold. Right or wrong, Jack could benefit from some medical advice.

I
T WAS A RARE MORNING
out. Tremendous flights of budgerigars winged before them in tight V formation, solid bands of emerald green, dipping steeply over the crystal clear waters.

“Look, Camille, there’s Wirra Wirra!” Melissa pointed through the windshield to the eagle coasting on the wind. “Do you believe in the legend now?”

Camille’s eyes followed the great bird. “Well, it’s nice to believe we have a guardian spirit.”

But by the time they reached the Pink Lady, the eagle had disappeared. It was easy to spend a few hours in that magical place, swimming and exploring,
gathering wild pears. Later they set up their picnic beneath the beautiful white-boled gums. They munched companionably through their sandwiches and cake, washed down by a rather appalling soft drink—Melissa’s favorite—both of them finishing off with a crisp juicy apple.

Lying back on the rug, a cushion under her head, Melissa asked, “Do you love Daddy, Camille?”

It was a moment for truth. Besides, nothing Melissa said startled her. “Yes, darling, I do. And he loves me. Do you mind?”

“Do I mind?” For answer Melissa sat up, her face radiant, and said “It makes me so
happy!
There’s nothing more I want than for you to live with us. To be part of everything we do. You’re more than just my friend. You’re my
family.
When you marry Daddy, I can have brothers and sisters.”

“Is that what you want?” Camille blushed.

“Oh, yes! More than anything. I don’t like being on my own.” Melissa threw out her arms and hugged Camille.

By the time they reached Wirra Wirra it was nearly midday. On the way they’d stopped to watch a herd of brumbies being watered, then a short time later a mob of cattle fording the crossing. Camille drove as far as she could up the lower slope of the south face, then parked at the foot of a limewood that reached its skeletal limbs to the smoldering blue sky.

“Are you sure you want to do this, pet? It’s not too hot for you?” Camille asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Melissa answered brightly. “The view is wonderful. Daddy brought me up here lots of
times when I was small. Mommy never liked to come. She never did love me, you know. I made all that up.”

Camille clasped the little girl’s hand tightly. “I’m sure Mommy loved you in her own way, darling.”

“No, she didn’t,” Melissa said calmly. “It’s all right, Camille. Don’t be sad. I wasn’t perfect. That’s the only way Mommy would have loved me. She loved Daddy. Not me.”

“Well, Daddy adores you,” Camille said fervently. “You’re the most important little girl in the world to him. And to me.”

“And I’ll always be the
first
child in the family, won’t I?” Melissa beamed.

B
Y THE TIME
they reached the top of the plateau, both of them were sheened with sweat, but the view made them exclaim in awe. A few miles away, along one of the curving channels, a mob of a thousand or more cattle was milling, driven in from what must have been a muster of the sand-hill country.

“I could stay here all day.” Melissa sighed contentedly. “Look at all those beautiful little purple flowers growing out of the rocks. Isn’t it amazing where they can grow? Can we go out a bit farther, Camille, where it juts out? I promise I’ll stand quietly.”

Camille studied the small upturned face. Melissa had behaved beautifully all morning. “You don’t have any fear of heights, do you?”

Melissa shook her head.

“Anyway,” Camille said, “we have Wirra Wirra to protect us, although he doesn’t seem to be around at the moment.” She searched the cloudless blue sky.

“You just can’t
see
him,” Melissa said. “He’s
probably asleep in a cave. He’s only an eagle sometimes. Other times he moves around like a man. That’s what spirits do.”

The view from the apex was even more thrilling. “Here comes the brolgas!” Melissa cried joyfully. “See down there, Camille.” She pointed toward a reed-fringed billabong heavy with hyacinth where a great herd of shining blue cranes were alighting. “Have you ever seen them dance? I have. It’s a real dance, too. They step up to one another, then step back and bow. The way people did at parties a long time ago.

They stood staring in delight, but then their absorption was broken by what sounded like rocks tumbling down the slope.

Both spun around, Camille pulling the child closer to her side. In front of their dismayed eyes stood Clare Tennant, looking surprisingly tall and solid in her riding gear and high boots.

Camille couldn’t find her voice.

“You frightened us,” Melissa burst out, her high voice cracking.

“Tough.” At close range Clare’s attitude was alarming. Legs planted wide apart, she glared down at the child. “What an ill-natured little brat you are. No wonder Carole couldn’t stand you.”

Camille was appalled. “Have you taken leave of your senses? This is Nick Lombard’s child here.”

The woman jeered. “Yeah, it’s hard to grasp. A kid like that I’d have put in a home. Some private little place where I wouldn’t have to see her.”

“You’re the one in need of a private place,” Camille
said sharply, all her nagging anxieties coming into sharp focus.

“I think perhaps you’re right,” the older woman agreed almost affably. “Mama suffered from manic depression made even worse by a lifetime of alcohol abuse. That’s why I was so good with poor Carole. I recognized all the signs.”

There was a cold hateful look in the woman’s eyes that left Camille aghast. “Mrs. Tennant, we’re leaving,” she said, clamping Melissa to her side. “Nicholas will be expecting us.”

“Nicholas!” Clare raised her voice to a shout. “Isn’t that too bloody precious! What’s wrong with Nick? Even Carole called him Nick.”

“Camille can call Daddy anything she likes!” Melissa cried. “You’re crazy to say all these awful things to us. Daddy will be very angry.”

Clare drew a long hissing breath. Her eyes flickered upward. “Crazy? You want to see crazy?” Suddenly they saw the stock whip in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Camille’s body went rigid. “You’re frightening Melissa.”

Clare smiled that terrible fixed smile. “You, as well, I hope,
Australian Heiress.
I’ll say this for you— you’ve got more guts than I thought.”

The lash cracked out, the tip striking the ground expertly at Camille’s feet. It sent up flurries of dust, causing Camille and Melissa to cough.

“Didn’t know I could do that, did you?” Clare crowed. “I was raised in cattle country, girl. On a lousy outstation, where life was hell.” As if to confirm it, her smooth cultivated voice had turned ugly and strident.

“You’re the big-eyed Evil One.” Melissa swallowed hard.

“Shut up and be quiet, you screwed-up little brat.” The woman glared at her.
“Quiet,
you understand? You don’t know what discipline is all about.”

“You listen to me, Mrs. Tennant,” Camille intervened in a voice that shook with anger. “Snap out of this right now. Nicholas knew where we were going. He could be coming after us now.”

Clare’s smile widened. She looked utterly mad. “Nope. He’s at a meeting. I checked. When he does turn up, he mightn’t find you. I haven’t done all I’ve done for nothing.”

Camille’s mind flashed back over the long months of harassment. “So tell us,” Camille urged, “what
have
you done? Don’t keep it to yourself. Take the credit while you can. It was you making all the silent phone calls, wasn’t it? Sending the flowers and photographs. You had me followed, had me nearly run down at the shopping center. Maybe you got the idea from Hilda Gray’s son. You seem to know everything that’s going on.”

The woman scoffed. “All it takes is money. The Masterman girl and that disgusting homosexual only added spice to the whole business. Muddied the waters, so to speak.
I’m
the one who risked everything. Who wants you dead.”