FOR three long months Ric had been moving around—Los Angeles, New York, London—going about his business, being alert for any trouble. As far as he knew there was none, not even with his Sydney office where Kathryn was still operating without any further problems. To his mind, Mitch had successfully quashed any move by Gary Chappel to raise more hell for Lara or anyone connected to her.
It was safe for him to go home.
He’d take every precaution not to be followed to Gundamurra. He was sure he could do it without endangering Lara. The desire—the need—to be with her again, to assure himself that everything was fine between them, had been building to such a pitch, he could barely concentrate on anything else.
For the past few weeks he’d been feeling something was wrong. When he’d first set up the private Internet site for them to correspond with absolute safety, Lara’s messages had been like a daily diary, nothing deeply personal but full of her activities and written in an enthusiastic vein. He’d been satisfied she wasn’t fretting and was communicating in a natural open way that he found very reassuring.
More recently her messages had tapered off into flat little reports. Maybe it was simply that the newness of her life on an Outback station had worn off. It wasn’t surprising or adventurous or exciting anymore. Yet he sensed a depression that worried him, spurring him to act.
Gundamurra might not be the right place for her. He could bring her to London, watch over her himself. There were dozens of alternatives. All he needed was her compliance and he’d take her anywhere.
The first step was to talk to her, face-to-face, and that meant flying home. He’d written his intention of visiting Gundamurra last night. Her reply had to come this morning. He didn’t want to leave his Knightsbridge apartment until it did. Impossible to set his mind to working in his London office today.
He forced himself to have some breakfast then checked his home computer again.
Yes…a message.
Ric stared at the monitor screen, feeling his heart squeeze into a painfully tight ball as he read Lara’s reply over and over again, desperately trying to interpret it differently to what it said only too plainly.
It’s better for me if you don’t come, Ric.
No explanation.
Just the one line.
And his knotted gut was telling him it was because he’d had sex with her and she didn’t want to be reminded of it. Didn’t want him thinking it could be on again. Didn’t want the hassle of a confrontation about it.
Mistake.
Huge mistake.
And he couldn’t undo it.
So what the hell was his next step?
Ric pushed himself away from the computer with its dead-end message, refusing to believe he had no future with Lara. The connection between them had been too real, too strong. There had to be a way over this barrier.
He paced around his apartment, burning off the negative energy that pressed in on him—the old defeatism that had kept him away from her in the past. He was good for her. She’d wanted him to make love. And she couldn’t now think of it as a bad experience. It had been great for both of them. He couldn’t be mistaken about that.
Perhaps she was now ashamed of having had that need at the time. Linking him to Gary. Having had months of freedom to sort out what she wanted, she might well have developed a desire to be free of attachment to any man—an easier life, not complicated by relationships where more could be expected of her than she was willing to give. The short reports might mean she’d been weaning herself off any sense of dependence on him, subtly letting him know that maintaining a rapport with him held less and less importance.
A phase of detachment was not unreasonable in the circumstances. It meant more waiting, patience on his part. On the other hand, surely she knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. So why block him out?
Better for me if you don’t come.
Did she feel safer with him away? Was the fear of Gary still uppermost in her mind? Had something happened he didn’t know about?
Ric snatched up the telephone and called Mitch at home, where he should be since it was now well into the evening in Australia. The call was promptly answered by his old friend, much to Ric’s relief.
‘Is there any pressing reason why I shouldn’t come home?’ he blurted out.
Mitch weighed the question for a few moments, then replied, ‘None that I know of, providing you exercise due care.’
‘There’s no overt threat from the Chappel front? Something that’s worrying Lara?’
‘All quiet there. Certainly Victor Chappel accepts there will be a divorce. I don’t trust Gary not to seize any chance he can get to stop it so I would emphasise…don’t lead him to Lara.’
‘I can use Johnny’s plane again to fly to Gundamurra.’
‘That would be the best way if you must go, Ric.’
‘You don’t think I should?’
Another longer pause. ‘It’s not for me to judge. I’ve never seen the two of you together…’
‘But…?’ Ric pressed.
‘Lara has been through a lot. More than you know, Ric, and I’m not at liberty to tell you.’
‘You’re saying my presence might be an unwelcome pressure.’
‘I don’t know. I do know that for other women who’ve been in a similar situation…it’s not forgotten in three months. It’s a long, uphill battle to put it behind them.’
Time…
As much as Ric wanted to leap over it, he couldn’t ignore Mitch’s advice nor Lara’s own words. He resigned himself to more months of patience, ended the call to Mitch and went back to his computer. His fingers tapped out the message—
As you wish, Lara.
As you wish…
Tears welled into Lara’s eyes as she stared at the words Ric had written back to her…giving words…so typical of everything he’d done for her…giving…
Yet his caring for her needs only added another burden to her torment. She’d asked too much of him and now she was damned for it.
Three months’ pregnant…
Lara propped her elbows on the computer desk, buried her face in her hands and wept.
Outside the heavens opened again and dropped another load of drenching rain. It drummed on the tin roof of the homestead, drowning out the sound of her private grief. Not that anyone would be listening. Patrick had set aside this time in the office for her use. She was always left alone to write to Ric.
But how could she continue this link with him?
If the baby was Gary’s…there would be no escaping the Chappel family, even with a divorce. She’d thought wildly of somehow arranging an abortion but she couldn’t bring herself to go down that dark road, not having had a stillborn child. It was her baby, too. Every innocent life was precious.
And it might be Ric’s child…a desperate hope that would at least save her from being connected to Gary again, yet dreadfully unfair to Ric, trapping him into fatherhood, giving him no choice about it.
Guilt writhed through her. How could Ric ever trust her word again? She’d let him believe that the contraceptive pill she’d been taking would protect her from pregnancy, recklessly pressing him into making love to her. He wouldn’t have gone through with it otherwise. She had used him to drive Gary out of her mind—wantonly used him—not caring about anything but her own selfish needs.
The sheer dishonesty of it sickened her. It would surely sicken him, too. She couldn’t even face him with the possibility that the child was his. The shame was too great.
No…she had to assume it was Gary’s…live with the consequences…end the link with Ric now. It was the only fair thing to do. This wasn’t his problem. It was hers and hers alone.
No forcing herself to write cheerful little messages to him. That was dishonest, too. She pulled herself together, stabbed a finger at the switch on the monitor screen, watched As you wish, Lara wink out into blank darkness, then shut the computer down.
It wasn’t what she wished.
But there was no turning back the clock.
She left the office and stood on the veranda, watching the rain come down—almost blinding sheets of it. There’d been storms like this for the past few days, causing the river to rise, bringing the danger of flooding. All the men were working hard, moving the stock to safe paddocks. It had to be done by horseback. The ground had become too boggy for any motorised vehicles.
She knew everything about the life here now. It had a natural harmony that she liked. And there was nothing pretentious about the people on the station. What you saw was what you got. No hidden agendas.
She was the only person hiding something.
So far she’d managed to keep her pregnancy to herself. The loose shirts she wore covered her thickening waistline, and as with her last pregnancy, she didn’t suffer bad morning sickness. No throwing up. Mostly the nausea receded when she ate something. And since she spent afternoons in the sewing room, it was easy to take a little nap there so no one knew of the fatigue that sometimes overwhelmed her.
She might be able to go another month before the truth was too obvious to hide any longer. What then? Sooner or later she would have to tell Patrick. Would he let her stay here? Have the baby here?
Would she have to tell Mitch Tyler, too?
A baby couldn’t be kept a secret forever.
Ric would inevitably learn of it, one way or another…and he’d feel betrayed.
She was no good for him.
She’d never been good for him.
And there was no chance of redemption now.
No sunshine after the rain.
She took her misery to bed and listened to the constant beat of the rain on the roof, wanting it to beat out any more thought. Yet she kept hearing…
As you wish…as you wish…as you wish…
Back in Sydney, Gary Chappel was getting what he’d wished for…the mistake from Ric Donato that would lead him to his runaway wife. He’d paid through the nose for it, but his private investigator had finally come up with the goods from the illegal tap on Mitch Tyler’s home telephone.
Gundamurra.