A Secret Vengeance

“I need to drive up to Lake Macquarie.”

Isabel blinked her surprise. “Lake Macquarie! But why?”

Why, indeed?

“There’s a property up there, an old fishing cabin where Dad used to take me when I was a boy. I haven’t been there for years. I just found out that he didn’t sell it like I thought he had. I know it sounds crazy but I have this compulsion to see it again.”

“And you have to go see it this very day, this very afternoon?”

“Yes.”

He expected her to ask more questions but she just smiled a wry smile. “You’re a lot more sentimental than you think you are, Luke Freeman. Look, why don’t you drive up there and stay the weekend? Have a rest. It’ll do you the world of good. These last two weeks must have been dreadful for you.”

Yes, he could stay the night at least, if he wanted to. He knew where his father had always hidden the key and he doubted that would have changed.

“You wouldn’t mind?” he said.

Isabel shrugged. “Why should I mind? In just over two weeks’ time, I’ll have you for the rest of my life. I think I can spare you for a couple of days’ R and R. But, Luke, I don’t want to put off buying the rings. They might need to be resized. Would you trust me to choose them without you?”

Luke couldn’t think of any other female he’d ever known who was so blessedly lacking in being a drama queen about things. “You are one incredible woman, do you know that? Here. Take this credit card and put the rings on that. And put lunch on it too.”

“If you insist,” she said, smiling saucily as she whipped the card out of his fingers.

“I insist,” he said, and smiled warmly back at her.

Another thing about Isabel that Luke appreciated was the fact she didn’t pretend she didn’t like money. She did. Even before the tragedy, which had turned him into a multimillionaire overnight, Isabel had openly appreciated the fact that he was earning a high six-figure salary, owned a town house in Turramurra, drove a recent-model BMW, and could afford to take her to Dream Island on their honeymoon.

Now, of course, he could afford a whole lot more.

“I’ll call you later,” he promised.

“You’d better.”

“And you’re right. I might stay up there for a day or two.” Depending on what he found once he got there, of course.

“I’ve already told you to.”

“I’ll miss you,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek.

“You call that a kiss?”

He laughed, then kissed her on the mouth. Her tongue touched his and Luke momentarily regretted not making love with Isabel the night before. But, at the time, he hadn’t wanted to. He hadn’t wanted sex in any way, shape or form since the funerals.

“Mmm.” His lips lifted and he smiled wryly down at her. “I might come back tonight after all.”

“Waste of time, handsome. I’m taking Rachel out to dinner and the theatre tonight, remember? I can’t put it off. I’ve already arranged everything.”

“I wouldn’t want you to put it off,” he told her. Rachel was an old school friend of Isabel’s from her boarding school days. She’d once been a top secretary at the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, but she hadn’t worked for some years. Nowadays, she spent twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, looking after her foster mother who had Alzheimer’s.

Luke could well imagine how much Rachel looked forward to the one night a month off Isabel organised for her. He’d met her once briefly, and had thought how tired and old she’d looked. Yet she was only a year older than Isabel.

“It’ll keep, won’t it?” Isabel added.

“Sure.” Luke shrugged, the need already fading. They’d never gone through one of those lust-driven stages where they’d just had to have each other, regardless of where they were, or what was going on around them. They’d become friends before they’d become lovers. Some engaged couples Luke knew couldn’t keep their hands off each other, even in public. He and Isabel were never like that.

Which perhaps explained why his father had taken Luke aside at his engagement party and had questioned him on whether he was completely happy with Isabel in bed. Luke had been taken aback at the time by his father’s grilling over their sex life, but he had assured him that everything was fine in the bedroom department.

Thinking of this instance, however, suddenly made Luke wonder if his father had been totally happy with his sex life. To all intents and purposes, Luke’s parents had seemed happy with each other. They were openly affectionate with each other. Always holding hands and hugging. But who knew what happened behind closed doors?

Luke imagined that a man dissatisfied with his sex life might be tempted to stray…

“I think you’d better get going, Luke,” Isabel said drily. “You’ve drifted off somewhere again.”

“Sorry.”

“You were thinking of your father, weren’t you?” Luke stared at her.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. I know what he meant to you. And I know how much you’ll miss him. Much more than your mother. Oh, I know you loved your mother too. How could you not? She was the nicest, sweetest lady. But your father was more to you than a parent. He was your best friend. And your hero. So go and talk to him for a while up at that old place on Lake Macquarie. He’ll be there, I’m sure. And he’ll listen to you, as he always did.”

Luke now wished he’d told Isabel the complete truth about Pretty Point. He hadn’t realised she had such sensitivity. She always seemed so pragmatic about things.

But it was too late now. She’d wonder why he hadn’t been honest with her right from the start. And their relationship might suffer.

But it was a valuable lesson learned. He vowed to always tell his fiancée the truth in future, no matter what.

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN the idea to go to Pretty Point for the weekend first popped into Celia’s head, she’d immediately rejected it. But the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d realised that Lionel’s love nest was the perfect getaway.

And, brother, did she need to get away.

The last two weeks had left her totally and utterly drained. She’d spent every evening and all the previous weekend over at Aunt Helen’s, either sitting with her almost catatonic mother, or arguing with her aunt over what should be done about her.

Celia wanted her mother to see a psychiatrist, and to get onto some medication for depression, but her sister disagreed.

“Jessica isn’t crazy,” Helen had stated firmly last night. “Just broken-hearted. All she needs is time, and some tender loving care and she’ll come good. You’ll be the one needing medication shortly if you keep worrying about her the way you are. Now, I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you this weekend, Celia. Go out with your friends. Or better still, go away somewhere. Anywhere.”

Celia lent back in the deck chair with a sigh and thought anywhere had never looked so good. What was it about a water view that relaxed nerves and soothed even the weariest soul?

She had to give to Lionel. He’d built his love nest on one superb spot.

He’d also had great taste in wine.

Celia took another sip of the excellent Chablis she’d found chilling in the fridge door and thought how lucky it was that her last appointment had cancelled that afternoon. She always tried to finish up early on a Friday but it was a real stroke of luck to finish at lunch-time. By two o’clock, she’d been packed and on her way to Pretty Point, with only a small detour necessary for some groceries.

And now here she was, mid-afternoon, with a lovely glass of wine in her hands, a million-dollar view to enjoy, and two days of blissful peace and solitude to look forward.

Celia kept on sipping the wine and gradually, the tension melted out of her knotted neck and shoulder muscles till she was leaning back, feeling deliciously mellow. Alcohol, she decided, was proving much more relaxing than all the head rotating exercises she’d been trying on herself every night this week. And infinitely more relaxing than Joanne’s solution.