LARA couldn't sleep. Her mind kept churning over the events of the day. She knew whatever happened now was out of her control, not that she'd had control of anything much for a long time, but that had only affected her. She worried about Ric—what Gary might do to damage him and his business.
Almost unlimited wealth gave the Chappel family an insidious power. A corrupt power. And she didn't believe his father could stop his one and only son from using it. Victor didn't keep close tabs on Gary. He might think a caution from him—even a command from him—would be respected, but Lara knew better. Gary would agree up front, and do what he wanted behind Victor's back.
If she couldn't be got at, Ric would certainly be the object of his fury. Ric, who hadn't counted the cost when he'd rescued her. Ric, who'd held her hand tonight but would be gone tomorrow, a moving target for Gary to focus on. If something bad happened to him—her mind shied away from the all too possible outcomes—how could she bear it?
He'd been so good to her.
More than that, she felt…if Ric went out of her life again, there would be a terrible black hole that nothing could ever fill. There was a bond between them. She'd felt it growing again all day, strengthening, tunneling deep into her soul. It wasn't that she'd been so dependent on his initiatives. It was Ric himself. The way he was. The way he was to her—knowing intuitively what she needed, giving her his support, caring at a deeper level than she'd ever known before.
Her marriage had been completely barren of such caring, like a desert that bred only emotional nightmares, no oasis in sight. She was supposed to be at peace here, but how could she be with Ric going into danger because of her?
Sitting across from him at dinner tonight, watching him, listening to him talk to Patrick, she'd kept seeing the boy she'd known in the man, marvelling at how much he'd grown from that time, yet eerily staying the same—the expressions on his face, how he moved his hands, the cadence of his voice, his respectful manner toward her. Ric Donato…
He was certainly no disappointment to the memory she had of him. Far from it. If only…
No. It was stupid, futile to indulge in if onlys. She was here at Gundamurra, where Ric had found direction for his adult life. And it was an amazing place, not at all the primitive lifestyle she had imagined. There was even house staff to cook and clean.
The homestead was huge, constructed with four wings that enclosed a courtyard which, incredibly, had a fountain in the middle of its green lawn, not to mention garden beds in bloom and pepper trees to give shade.
A screened veranda ran around all four sides of the quadrangle and the rooms themselves were very civilised, indeed. Well kept antiques graced the sitting and dining rooms, and even in this guest suite the chest of drawers and dresser were beautifully polished cedar pieces, and the patchwork quilt on the queen size bed was a work of considerable artistry.
It all projected a sense of solid old-time values that would outlast anything a more sophisticated world would declare in as must haves if one was to be up to date with modern fashion. The refurbishing of the Vaucluse mansion had been an exercise in creating the right image—all for show, nothing to do with setting up a home that actually felt like a home.
Cold rooms. Almost clinically perfect, but no personality in them. How could they be anything else when they were the work of interior decorators who were never going to live there? And, of course, Gary had been the one they'd consulted with, not her. She'd very quickly learnt not to change anything, not to offer any input. Best to smile and agree to everything.
But that was over now.
Look forward, not back, Ric had told her.
Except looking forward encompassed Ric's departure tomorrow and she was frightened of what that might lead to. If she was safe here, why couldn't he stay, too? Why did he have to put himself at risk? Or was that hopelessly selfish thinking, wanting him to be with her?
Her life could be put in limbo at Gundamurra, but Ric had an international business to run, other people depending on him. It would be totally unfair of her to beg him to stay. He'd done more than enough for her. Yet if she lost him again…
Footsteps were coming along the veranda outside her suite. It had to be Ric. He'd be sleeping in this wing, too. After dinner, Patrick had suggested she retire, noting how tired and strained she looked. True enough, but she'd guessed the two men had much to say to each other in private so she'd left them to it, though she would have preferred their company to her own.
She did feel washed out physically. Mentally and emotionally, too. But her mind couldn't be shut down. Maybe it would some time in the night… and if she was still asleep when Ric left in the morning…
Ric was going by now…
She hurtled out of bed and raced to the door which opened onto the veranda, her heart pumping with an urgency that couldn't be denied. The footsteps had already gone past and when she stepped out she could only see the back of him walking away from her, a shadowy figure in the darkness—too shadowy when she desperately wanted the reality of him.
'Ric!'
He stopped. It seemed an aeon before he turned, making her wonder if she'd mistaken someone else for him. Riven with doubts, she shrank back against the doorway, acutely conscious of not having paused to put on the dressing gown she'd bought. While the cotton pyjamas were a decent enough covering, they were no armour for confronting a man in the middle of the night.
Her rioting nerves were somewhat soothed as she caught the silhouette of his profile. It was Ric, looking back at her, half turning, holding his distance but at least acknowledging her call.
'Do you need something, Lara?' he asked quietly.
You. I need you.
The words pounded through her mind. She couldn't say them.
They asked too much.
She simply stood there staring at him, barely able to contain the turbulent yearning that pressed her to run to him, fling her arms around him, never let him go. Maybe the power of it tugged at him. After a pause that screamed for answers he slowly retraced his steps toward her, coming to a halt an arm's length away, looking at her with what felt like a fierce concentration of energy.
'Are you having trouble sleeping? Would you like me to…?' 'No. I mean yes…I can't sleep,' she gabbled.