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“And what do you suppose Robyn will think about that?” Incredibly in his imagination he was pushing her low necked dress down from her shoulders. She had beautiful breasts. She had teased him with their beauty at the wedding, smiling into his eyes, provoking him to dance with her. Of course he was obliged to. They were after all chief bridesmaid and best man.
She was shrugging lightly as if to show she was unfazed by his scrutiny and the challenge of his comment. “There’s plenty of room for another gallery. Robyn specialises in paintings and sometimes sculptures. Hopefully one gallery will be a spin off for the other. There are always a great many tourists in town.”
“Yes,” he agreed briefly, feeling as though he was drunk on some rich potent wine. That was the effect she had on him. But no way, no way, was he about to fall to his knees.
She was returning his gaze equably, so gracious when he always acted the complete boor around her. He suspected she was doing it deliberately.
“I’m wondering why you don’t like me, Ross?” she inquired softly. “No, don’t throw up your head.” Which he did in that high mettled way. “Don’t deny it. We both know it’s true. Remember how it was at the wedding?”
As if he had forgotten.
“I didn’t imagine your…what can I call it? Animus, antagonism? Was it something I said? Something I did? I seem to have gone over it many many times in my head. But it’s still there tonight. The thing is, David and I are so hoping you’ll act as our guide. It would be awkward if there remained difficulties between us.”
He frowned, giving her a look that both smouldered and sparkled. “You intend to go along then?”
“I’ve never seen a man with aquamarine eyes.” She was so unnerved she didn’t answer his question, but said the first thing that came into her head.
“It runs in the family.” He returned carelessly. “Lest you deflect me, I’ll ask again. Do you intend to go along on this trip?”
There was no mistaking the opposition on his hard, handsome face. “I’m thrilled David wants me,” she said, feeling the friction between them like a burr against the skin. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed the little texts beneath the photographs. I was responsible for them.”
It was a reflex to compliment her. He had thought they were Langdon’s; a few lines, often poetic capturing the very essence of the scene. “Very good.”
“I don’t think you know—I made such a poor impression on you at Cy’s and Jessica’s wedding but I write and illustrate children’s stories as well as managing the gallery. They’re for children with vivid imaginations. They’re starting to do very well. Jessica and I took a Fine Arts Degree together, but I’m not nearly so gifted as she. It won’t be too long before Jessica gives an exhibition of her paintings. She not only fell madly in love with her Territory Man, she fell in love with the Territory. So far David hasn’t photographed the Top End or the Red Centre which has been widely covered of course. He likes to capture his subject matter in a new light.”
“And it works.” He tried hard to lighten up but that was difficult when he was standing less than an arm’s length from her. “You realise a trip into Kakadu wouldn’t be a picnic?”
She tilted her chin, hoping her eyes weren’t betraying her reactions. This man attracted and daunted her in equal measure. “I know it’s a great wilderness area.”
He nodded, his black hair sheened with purple highlights like the sky at midnight. For a cattle man used to working gear, off duty he was very stylishly groomed. Dark cream linen suit. White shirt with a brown stripe the top button casually undone. Silk tie with alternating white and brown stripes. Sexy enough to take her breath away.
“Have you ever got up close and personal with a twenty foot croc?” he asked with light sarcasm.
“I’d make sure you were in front of me.” She tried to joke.
“It’s no joke,” he told her, his lean features taut.
“I’ll have you know I’m serious.” She looked directly at him, feeling on her mettle. “What is it, Ross? Have you written me off as a bimbo? Someone who’ll turn into a quivering liability?”
“I have to tell you I wouldn’t be happy to take you,” he said bluntly.
“Samantha,” she prompted. “That’s my name. Sam, if you like.”
“Sam is just too quaint.” Anyone less like a Sam he had yet to see. He gazed into her dark doe eyes, bright with little golden motes.
She could have hit him. Damaged her hand. Herself. “Actually I was hoping your sister, Isabelle—she’s so beautiful—might be persuaded to come along with us. Station bred she’d be an enormous help to me.”
He could only warn her off. “Belle wouldn’t be interested, I’m afraid. She lost her husband not so long ago.”
Samantha dipped her head, her nerves tightening. “Jessica told me. I’m so very sorry. She’s so young. Mightn’t it help her to get out though, don’t you think? Nature is a great healer.”
Very deliberately he cut off that line of thinking. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Samantha.”
The effect of her name on his lips was extraordinary. How strange it was to be excited by a man and thoroughly disconcerted at the same time. “Don’t be like that,” she pleaded.
“Like what?” He was sizzling with sexual energy. A male aggression that appeared to possess him in her presence. Chaos threatened when he liked order.
“Arrogant, actually,” she told him quietly, feeling a twist of desire deep inside her and nothing she could do about it. “Unpleasant as well when Cy thinks you’re the greatest guy in the world.”
“Maybe I’m a lot more used to dealing with men than women. I’m sorry. I apologise.”
His sudden smile made her suck in her breath. It bathed his rather severe handsome features in dazzling light. “That’s not what I’ve heard either,” she found herself saying.
“Meaning what?” He shrugged, a surprisingly elegant movement.
“There are a lot of girls hung up on you I was told. I suppose that’s a good sign. Then again a lot of women are attracted to men who have little use for them.”
“And you’re assuming I’m that kind of man?”
The colour of his remarkable eyes was a source of wonder. “Aren’t you?” Her every instinct had warned her this man was trouble yet she plunged ahead angered by his resistance, almost dismissal. It wasn’t something she was used to.
“I love my sister,” he pointed out.
“You certainly should. You had to stick together.”
His expression tightened. “Cy told you my life story?”
“What’s wrong with that? I was interested. He filled me in a little way. I know your parents divorced when you were twelve and your sister a few years younger. Don’t feel overly bad about that. Our mother and father split up when I was still at school and David had already left home. Both of them are re-married. David and I have two stepbrothers—my dad’s. Things like that.”
He was surprised. He had thought her the most cosseted of creatures. Daddy’s little princess. A most beautiful little girl. But there was a sudden haunting in her eyes. “You can’t quite cover up the fact you’d been praying they’d stay together?”
“Absolutely, but they’d hit a very bumpy ride. In fact it’s put me off marriage.”
“True?” He let his smile loose again.
Another thrill. That alone shouted a warning. “I’ve already decided you have a lot against it.”
“Really?” He looked down his straight nose at her. “You don’t know me.” Even if you are trying to lead me on.
Her heart gave a wild flutter. She couldn’t believe the arrogance of his manner could be a seduction. But it was. “I’d like to know you better,” she said, something she’d discovered the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
“So you can dig out my weaknesses?” He willed his blood to stop racing. There was a tremendous exhilaration in this sparring. It was like being caught up in an electrical storm when at any moment danger could be inflicted on a man.
“I didn’t imagine for a moment you had any,” she answered with faintly bitter sweetness.
“As many as the next man.” He shrugged. “But I work hard to keep them under control. I had the impression you and your brother’s assistant were close?”
A flare of something, was it anger? deepened the apricot colour in her cheeks. “Now how on earth did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“Are you telling me it’s not true?” Sad if he was giving himself away.
“I’m not telling you anything,” she said crisply, knowing with every passing minute getting involved with this intoxicating man would be a terrible mistake. “I’d like to see you less sure of yourself and your opinions.”
“And you’re the one hoping we can be friends?” he scoffed.
Think, Sam. Try to clear your head.
Yet all her pulses were drumming in double time. “Not friends so much,” she successfully mustered her poise. “I don’t believe we could ever be friends, not unless you undergo a radical change, but colleagues of sorts. I know you’d prefer Men Only, women being such nuisances, but I’d endeavour to keep out of your way.”
“Fine,” he drawled, staring down at her mouth with her small teeth like prize pearls. Her lips were full, luscious, incredibly tempting. He’d like to crush their cushiony softness beneath his. Teach her a lesson. “But not exactly easy if we had to share a tent?”
She battled the shock wave. “We wouldn’t have to do that. Would we?”
For the first time there was genuine amusement in his jewelled eyes. “Not your idea of fun? It could get worse.”
She was still seeing them sharing a tent. “Like dodging crocs and pythons that devour you at a gulp?”
“Lady, there’s so much I’m not telling you.” It came out with a flicker of contempt.
Use your head. Go!
She had to make her escape before she said something she would regret. Ross Sunderland was dynamite. Exciting yes, but one of the dangerous men of this world. He drew her so much it was scaring her badly. “Anything to put me off,” she managed lightly. “I think I’ll have a word with Isabelle if I can find her. You’re a terrible man.” She half turned away.
“Knowing that at the start will save you a lot of trouble,” he called after her.
“To be frank I knew it the instant I laid eyes on you.” She turned back to confront him, long silky hair swirling, flame bright in the strong lights.
His mouth curved in a challenging smile. “Then you know we’re not fated to be friends.”
“That sounds so much like a dare?”
They were caught in a tableau, neither moving until a very pretty brunette dressed in show stopping red broke it up by rushing between them, ignoring Samantha as though she weren’t there. “Ah there you are Ross, darling!” She grabbed his arm. Held on for dear life. “I didn’t think this was your scene. Mum and I have only just arrived. Come and join us. We were just saying we should have a good party. It’s seems like ages since we got together.” She began to pull him away.
Samantha didn’t wait to see them move off. She was cursing herself for allowing Ross Sunderland to get to her. No way either was he going to block her path. Her company and contribution were important to her brother. She was determined not to be left behind.
David Langdon took a long slow breath then decided to catch up with the woman he’d spent so much time watching. Albeit out of the corner of his eye. A beaute fatale. Of course he had known she was beautiful. In fact she was more beautiful in the flesh than she was in the photographs he had seen in the papers and the few times they had captured her on television always hurrying away, head bent, one hand trying to cover her face like the tragic Princess Diana. For a while the media had hounded her. That must have been a bad experience. He knew who she was of course. Isabelle Hartmann, Blair Hartmann’s young widow. She couldn’t be more than mid-twenties and her beauty hadn’t even reached its zenith. She still looked as though she was hurting badly.
David hadn’t even told his sister how much he had learned about this near notorious young woman over the past months. Mostly from people supposedly in the know. Little of it good. It seemed to him a shocking thing to condemn her out of hand. Who knew exactly what went on within a marriage? Closer to the truth he’d been seized with a fierce desire to protect her which was quite odd since he had never managed to meet her. Not that he wasn’t in and out of Sydney all the time but he made a point of avoiding the big social functions unless they were in aid of charity. His deep seeing eyes, trained eyes, had divined the torment in her.
A lot of the rumours and gossip had their origins in plain jealousy. He’d come to that conclusion. Men he’d found were far more reluctant to put any blame at all on her though all were in agreement Blair Hartmann had been a nice easy going guy, maybe a little light weight, spoiled outrageously by his wealthy mother. Everyone knew that. It was women, especially Evelyn Hartmann’s circle, fuelled by envy and resentment and fearing to cross such a formidable figure in society as Isabelle’s ex-mother-in-law, who claimed Isabelle was an altogether different person from the one who appeared in public. For one thing she had been near arctic to the husband who had adored her. There was even talk she had refused him a child no doubt to preserve her willowy figure, selfish creature. She was terribly vain they reported, obsessed with herself and her clothes.
At least they couldn’t say she had married Hartmann for his money. The Sunderlands were a highly respected pastoral family wealthy in their own right as the press had easily uncovered. The fierce argument between the two, husband and wife had of course found its way into print. Speculation had been rife. Something Isabelle Hartmann had said had caused her late husband so loving and appreciative of her, to storm out of the party. Worse, perhaps caused him to be careless of his own life.
Whispers still followed her. He had overheard a few this very night. Blessed or cursed by such physical beauty she was bound to be a cynosure of attention. But no one he had noticed had been so careless as to give rein to gossip with her brother in earshot. Ross Sunderland was a man with fire in his remarkable eyes. Even the way he stood near his sister, sometimes with his arm carelessly around her, told the world not to be surprised if he retaliated on his sister’s behalf. Langdon had been told and had since witnessed the two were very close. My God, didn’t he feel the same about his own little sister, Samantha, nearly seven years his junior who had borne the brunt of their parents’ undeniably bitter break up with Sam the pawn in the middle. On his world travels at the time he had since done his level best to make it up to her.
Seeing Isabelle Hartmann alone for a moment that beautiful face cool, passionless as a statue, he made his way towards her, gesturing with a smile he’d get back to a couple who surged across the room to gain his attention.
“Good evening, Mrs. Hartmann. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself for some time. David Langdon.”
She turned to him quickly, staring up into his face. “Of course, Mr. Langdon.” Some emotion stirred in her, swiftly crossed her face, then disappeared. She gave him her hand, silky soft, slender quite lost in his bear grip. He fought down the powerful urge to carry it to his lips.
“My pleasure.” She smiled, finding something incredibly mesmeric about this big, dynamic man. “And it certainly has been. I’ve so enjoyed your showing.”
“I’m glad.” Was it his imagination or was she trembling?
“I’d have met you much earlier only I got caught up by friends who haven’t seen me for a while. You’ve been so much the centre of attention I didn’t want to intrude.” The fact was both Cy and Jessica, then a little later Samantha followed by Ross had insisted they introduce her—it was high time—but for some reason she had made the excuse she would wait a while until all the adulation died down. It still hadn’t stopped.
“The gallery shuts its doors at ten.” He glanced over her satin smooth dark head. She wore her hair in a style he particularly liked if the woman could get away with it. A classic chignon that emphasized her enchanting swan neck. “I sincerely hope you’re going to join us at dinner?”
She pressed her fingers to her temple.
“Please don’t claim a headache,” he begged, smiling into her eyes. “I promise you you’re going to enjoy yourself. I’ve already met Ross, of course. I feel already he’s just the right man to lead our expedition.”
She allowed her eyes to appraise his height and his broad shoulders. A gentle giant but she had no doubt he could be incredibly tough when he had to be. “You don’t strike me as the sort of man who needs anyone to lead him.”
He gave her another charming smile. “As much as I hate to say it I’d definitely need an expert to guide me through Kakadu. This is your part of the world.”
“Yet you’ve visited other extremely remote places. Very dangerous places as well.”
“And I’ve counted on good people who know what they’re about for survival.”
She braced herself a little. He was very close, towering over her. So big, so solid, but marvellously nonthreatening. She had made a horrendous error in judgment with Blair but she knew in her bones this man would always deal with women gently. “I’m not exactly sure Ross has made up his mind, Mr. Langdon,” she warned him.
“David, please.”
“Isabelle.” She spoke almost shyly, her creamy white skin colouring slightly. It was enormously appealing. Rumour had painted her a vain self centred creature who lived only for her own pleasure and conquest. He saw none of it. Perhaps tragedy had destroyed her confidence.
“It suits you,” he remarked, his voice deep with more than a polite veneer. If he had to visualise Shakespeare’s Dark Lady of the Sonnets, it would be Isabelle Hartmann. He surprised within himself not only fascination but a curious tenderness for this young woman with the purity and loveliness of a lily. She was wearing white to enhance the effect, one shouldered, a fluid column, no jewellery except for pendant earrings. Lustrous South Sea pearls appended from a diamond cluster. She wore no rings on her long fingered hands. No engagement ring. No wedding ring. Pearl painted nails. There again a puzzle. Would a woman so recently widowed remove clear evidence of her marriage? What did it say? She had gained no comfort there?
His topaz eyes glowed like a cat’s without giving anything away, but Isabelle was aware he was noting every last little thing about her. Extraordinarily she welcomed it. One of the paradoxical facts of life. As big and masculine as he was, he didn’t threaten her. Rather she felt in the presence of some powerful creature who for his own reasons had taken her under his protection. She had already noticed there was something distinctly leonine about him even to the tawny mane. She realised she too was taking stock, wondering how those thick waves would feel beneath her hands. To grasp them! To tug gently. It would be quite wonderful.
My God, she had to be mad!
“That’s great! You two have finally met.”
Each was so engrossed in the other they actually started when Samantha appeared at her brother’s side, smiling her pleasure. She glanced at her watch excitedly. “Ten minutes to go then we can all get to know one another better. I have to admit I’m hungry. What about you, Isabelle?”
It was her moment to say she had a slight headache and would be returning to the hotel only someone as radiant and friendly as Samantha Langdon was hard to resist. David Langdon said nothing, quietly waiting for her answer. She was forced to admit the fact he was going to be there had a huge bearing on her decision. She couldn’t bring herself to ask why. Better that way.
“Perhaps a little,” she smiled. “But I warn you. I’m not going to talk. I’m going to listen.”
They all sat round a circular table, paired off as if it would have been obvious to an onlooker that Isabelle and Ross and David and Samantha were closely related. David’s assistant Matt had a previous engagement to meet up with a friend staying at the Holiday Inn so the numbers were even. The restaurant was nowhere near as opulent as the restaurants Isabelle had frequented with Blair and their circle of friends. His friends really, part of the Establishment, grown up together, gone to the same schools and University, but the food was every bit as good. Over the last dreadful months it had been difficult just trying to swallow enough to stay alive but tonight sitting between David Langdon and her brother Isabelle found herself surprisingly hungry. Even the air around her had taken on a different quality. Maybe sanity wasn’t staying away from people but joining them.
They all had different things for an entrée, though she and Jessica shared a range of appetisers, crudités and quails eggs and a beautiful Haloumi that came from Kangaroo Island and was much better than the imported. Samantha had sea scallops wrapped with bacon with a red wine sauce, David, pan fried prawns in potato waistcoats, Cyrus decided on abalone with shiitake and young salad leaves served in its beautiful ovoid shell and Ross stayed with one of his favourites, rice noodle cannelloni stuffed with the superb blue swimmer crab meat.
It was difficult not to mellow under the influence of such beautiful food and the excellent chilled chardonnay that accompanied it. Seafood figured heavily for the main course, magnificent lobster caught that very morning, coral trout off the Reef, and the superb eating fish barramundi for which the Top End was famous.
Ross glancing across at his sister found it deeply heartening to see her eating with apparent enjoyment, smiling frequently at something David Langdon said to her, obviously at ease with him. It was almost as if he had brought her to life. There was colour in her cheeks. She looked very beautiful but still dangerously vulnerable. Well, Langdon was a kind man. He could see that. A gentleman. He was also very amusing, very knowledgeable, and Ross had had ample evidence women found Langdon extremely attractive. David Langdon had to be one hell of a catch. It didn’t occur to Ross that people said exactly the same thing about him.
