Ivory Innocence (18 page)

He drew deeply on the cheroot and let the smoke trail from his nostrils as he squinted at her through it. "Well, go on. Mrs. Barnes said what?"

"That Janey had been in a motor accident, and her—her mother was killed."

"That's right." He stood up, tossing the end of the cheroot out of the open window, and walked to switch off the lamp. "But it started long before that. It started when I met Andrea."

Her eyes gradually became accustomed to the darkness. A streak of moonlight angled between the curtains, laying a square of paleness on the floor. Matthew walked through it, a tall, shadowy figure, and eased himself down to sit on the side of the bed.

"I was very young when I met Andrea." His voice came out of the shadows. "I loved her with all the tenderness and passion a young man can give his first love, even though I was only one of many. I dreamed of nothing else but making her mine, of sending away all the other men and having her all to myself."

The silence lengthened. Ivory was glad of the darkness, for she was sure her feelings must show on her face. If only he would love her like that!

"And?" she breathed.

He swung round, stretching out beside her with his arms folded behind his head, bringing the sharp but not unpleasant scent of smoke with him. "And then I was offered a chance to go to Australia, to be a partner in a sheep station. An old schoolfriend of mine was running it, but he needed more capital and extra help. So I got up the courage and gave Andrea an ultimatum: either she married me and came out to Australia, or I would do my best to forget I'd ever known her."

"And she accepted?" Ivory managed.

"No." A sharp laugh escaped him and she heard the pain in it. "No, she turned me down flat. So I went out to Wallaroola station and threw myself into the work, determined to get her out of my system. It wasn't easy, but after a year I'd nearly managed it. That's when she came. She just arrived, without warning. She threw herself at me and wept and said she'd missed me and would I have her back. Would I? Like a shot, poor bloody fool that I was. We were married. And that was when the dream turned sour. I realized I'd never really known her. And after about a week she told me. She'd only married me to get back at some other man who'd jilted her. She never wanted me. She never wanted to live in Australia. She hated the place. She even hated me touching her. So we moved into separate rooms."

He stirred restlessly, turning on his side towards her as he leaned on one elbow. "She had started making arrangements to leave when she found out she was pregnant. You can imagine the quarrels that followed. She thought I'd trapped her. She said I'd ruined her life. She hated and despised me, she hated the child inside her. She even went for long rides in the heat, galloping for miles, to try and get rid of… God!" He sat up suddenly, turning his back on her, his head in his hands.

"Matthew, don't!" she begged, moving to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders.

He shook her off roughly, wrenched himself to his feet and went to lean on the window frame. "I won't try to describe the few months that followed. Janey was born, eventually, and a few days later Andrea walked out. She said she needed her friends and some social life. She needed men around her, that's what she meant. At Wallaroola there was only me and my partner, and he was solidly married, with four kids. Andrea always craved attention from a dozen men at a time."

"But do you mean she left on her own?" Ivory asked incredulously. "She abandoned Janey?"

"A baby would have gotten in her way. Anyway, Janey was better off at Wallaroola station rather than leading the sort of life I heard Andrea was leading, flitting from one man to the next."

"Then why didn't you divorce her?"

He swung round, the lines of his face made harder by the moonlight, all angles and shadowy planes. "Because as far as I'm concerned when I say 'Till death do us part' I mean it. Besides, she never applied for a divorce. It didn't matter to her whether she was married or not. She was perfectly happy the way things were, until—" He broke off and with a muffled exclamation slammed his fist against the window frame.

"Until eighteen months ago," he went on tiredly. "Soon after my uncle died, in fact. I expect Andrea heard I'd come into money. I had to come over here to sort out the legal side, so I left Janey in the care of my partner's wife. When eventually I did get back, Janey had gone. Only a few days before, Andrea had flown in with some man in his plane, and while my partner's wife was busy making coffee, they snatched Janey."

Scrambling off the bed, Ivory ran to his side and laid a hand on his arm. "Oh, Matthew, no!"

"Of course I alerted the authorities," he said, too intent on his story to take notice of her, "but by then Andrea and Janey had vanished. There was no news of them. None of Andrea's friends in England knew where they were, though there was talk of some new boyfriend she was living with in the West country. I followed several false trails. Then last October Andrea contacted me. She offered to return Janey if I would pay her enough money to set her up in business. But before I could do anything, the accident happened. There was a car crash. Andrea and her current lover were killed, and Janey… Janey was injured quite badly."

Not knowing what to say, Ivory rubbed her cheek on his sleeve, and felt him move away.

"The worst of it was what it had done to Janey's mind," he went on. "At first she wouldn't have me near her. She seemed to blame me for everything. Gradually I realized that Andrea had poisoned her mind against me. She was so disturbed that they kept her under observation for months, and when they said I could bring her home I wanted to get her right away from everything that might remind her of Andrea. So I brought her here."

"I didn't understand," she said sadly, caressing the warm silk of his sleeve. "You've been afraid of losing her again, haven't you? I wish you had told me before."

He jerked away as if he couldn't bear her touch, swinging round to look at her with a face made craggy by moonlight. "Told you what? That I'm a fool who can be taken in by a woman's lies? But you know that, don't you? It's happened again. First Andrea, and now you, you with your false innocence and your vengeful heart. I warn you, Ivory, if you cause Janey any more hurt, you'll wish you'd never been born!"

"You don't have to tell me that!" she breathed. "I'd never hurt her, Matthew."

"You'd better mean that," he growled. "Because that's all I want from you. That, and—"

His hands clamped on her shoulders, pulling her roughly against him. His arms came round her, molding her against his body. One hand in her hair jerked her head back, and as she cried out, the sound was smothered by his mouth.

She struggled impotently against his greater strength, pushed her hands between them to force him away. But her fingers encountered smooth warm flesh, and she felt the familiar heat rise in her, a sweet languor that made her stop resisting. Hot tears welled in her eyes.

He bent and tossed her up into his arms as if she were Janey's size, her pale hair trailing across his dark robe as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Matthew, don't," she begged. "Not like this."

"Then how?" he muttered, laying her across the bed. "Show me how."

"You know how!" Ivory groaned.

He did know. Slowly and skillfully, he removed her nightdress, touching every inch of her skin as it was uncovered, warm lips following a path traced by his fingers until she trembled helplessly, bewitched by the spell only he could weave on her.

"Like this?" he murmured, his mouth making her breasts ache with desire as he kissed them and let his tongue flick her skin. "Like this?"

Her nails caught across his back, up his spine and into his hair. She pulled his head up to kiss his mouth, feeling his body naked against hers, his need evident.

"I love you," she whispered into the darkness. "Matthew, I love you."

"You mean you want me," he amended harshly, his breath warm on her ear. "Say that. Say it!"

"I want you," she breathed despairingly. "Oh, I want you."

"That's better. That's the truth."

This time he was in no hurry. He worked on her until she cried out with desire and lifted herself against him, her whole being craving fulfillment. He lifted her to the stars and she saw them explode around her, aware that he had reached the same peak of ecstasy at the same moment.

She tasted salt and knew it was from her own tears. He made love like a master of the art, but for her it was more than physical. How could she make him believe that she loved him? He had been badly wounded by one lying woman; now he thought her a liar, too. He would never trust her again.

And the worst of it was that he had good reason. She hadn't lied, but she had deliberately misled him about her origins. It had all seemed so simple and so just— until she fell in love with the man who was supposed to be the enemy.

She woke early, disturbed by a dream about Janey, and found Matthew asleep beside her, one arm thrown possessively about her waist. He looked touchingly youthful, the stern lines wiped from his face, the dark lashes sweeping down toward his brown cheeks. His mouth looked different, too, in a vulnerable curve that made her want to kiss him into wakefulness.

Very gently, she lifted his arm and slipped out of bed. He stirred, turned over, but seemed to settle back into sleep. Ivory threw on a light kimono and silently left the room, hurrying barefoot along the passage to open Janey's door softly.

Janey was awake, sitting up in bed reading to herself, her lips moving as her finger followed the words across the page. She looked at Ivory uncertainly, her eyes big as a calf's and liquid with mute questions.

"How are you feeling?" Ivory asked, sitting beside her.

"I had a nightmare," Janey said. "I thought you were going to go away and leave me."

Hiding her tears, Ivory hugged the child, ruffling the brown curls. "You know I wouldn't do that, Janey. I love you too much ever to leave you. You're my little girl now. And I've been thinking: how would you like to go to real school, after the holidays?"

Janey looked up, her eyes full of hope. "On the bus with Becky? Every day? And—and come home at night? Not a boarding school?"

"Of course not a boarding school!" Ivory said with a shaky laugh. "Your daddy and I would miss you too much if we didn't see you every day. But it would be nice to go to school with other children, wouldn't it? You'll make lots of friends, and you can bring them home. And on your birthday we'll have a party. When is your birthday?"

"In October. Can we really, Ivory? Have a real party?"

"A real party. A cake with candles, and games with prizes, and balloons."

Janey leapt up in bed to throw her arms round Ivory's neck. "I do love you, Ivory."

"And I love you," Ivory said, warmed by affection so freely given.

Drawing away, Janey looked at her with sudden doubt clouding her eyes. "Do you love Daddy, too?"

Ivory took a breath, guessing that Matthew's first wife had told Janey she hated him, probably trying to make Janey hate him, too. As if it hadn't been enough to make use of him and then throw his love back in his face, Andrea had taken it upon herself to turn Janey against her father.