Marriage And Miracles

‘I couldn’t agree more. I’m delighted to see you’re determined not to be down-in-the-mouth and dreary. Life’s too short to waste it mooning over bastards like Nathan Whitmore.’

Gemma’s reaction was instant and quite absurd. She wanted to scream at Damian that he had no right to judge Nathan, that he knew nothing about him at all! Just in time, she controlled the quite irrational urge, recognising it as a hangover from what she had so very recently and stupidly believed in her husband and his love for her. ‘Yes, well, I’d rather not talk about Nathan, if you don’t mind,’ she said instead.

‘Your wish is my command.’ Damian took her arm. ‘What would you like to talk about over lunch?’

Gemma felt a reluctant smile pull at her mouth as she was masterfully propelled towards the street. ‘Who said I was having lunch with you?’

‘You don’t want to have lunch with your poor old uncle?’ he replied teasingly.

She laughed at this description of himself. Damian was only twenty-nine. He was also the epitome of ‘tall dark and handsome’, with the added elegance and style that being very wealthy provided. Most men would have looked good in the suit Damian was wearing. He looked fantastic. And he knew it.

‘Lunch is fine,’ she agreed. ‘But as I said, a mutual tongue-lashing of Nathan is out. I also don’t want to hear any sarcasm about Byron and Celeste being my parents.’

‘Hey!’ Damian put up his hands in mock defeat. ‘What do you think I am, an unfeeling monster? All I want is to have lunch with my very beautiful niece who, by the way, looks gorgeous with her hair up. You must wear it that way to the party this Friday night.’

‘P...party? What kind of party?’ Damian’s sweet flattery had been unacceptable. His inviting her to a party made her uncomfortable for some unaccountable reason. Were Nathan’s vile accusations about Damian still lingering at the back of her mind? It seemed the only reasonable explanation for her sudden unease. Or maybe her trust in the male sex in general had received such an incredible blow that it would be a long time before she could trust another man.

‘Just a dance party, Gemma,’ Damian explained with an indulgent smile. ‘They’re very popular with young people. A lot of my friends go to them. I thought it might make you feel better to get out and about, dance a little and meet some new people.’

It did sound innocent enough. And Damian was her uncle. Why was she hesitating?

‘I...I’m not sure.’

‘Hey, no sweat. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do any more. You’re your own boss now, remember? Just think about it and if you decide you need some cheering up come Friday night give me a call.’ Smiling, he linked arms with her again. ‘Now let’s go to lunch before your hour is up and we haven’t had a thing to eat!’

* * *

GEMMA DID NEED cheering up by Friday night. Frankly, she needed cheering up a lot earlier than that.

Work occupied her mind during the day, but come night time, Belleview was hardly a hive of distracting activity and conversation. Byron, quite rightly, was spending a lot of time with Celeste, courting her as he should have courted her all those years ago. And Ava, God love her, either disappeared into her studio with Vince or went out with him. Knowing Ava’s history, Gemma did not have the heart to spoil her fun at this glorious time in her life.

So Gemma pretended to be quite happy staying home alone watching television, saying she was tired after being on her feet all day. Yet all the while she was getting more and more depressed. By the time Damian telephoned her on the Thursday night, it didn’t take much persuasion for her to say yes.

* * *

DAMIAN HUNG UP, not bothering to hide his devilish glee. No one could see him. Celeste had just left with dear old Byron, and Cora was out in the kitchen, clearing up after dinner.

‘At last,’ he muttered, and let his mind run free over how Friday night should pan out.

Sweet little Gemma would have no resistance at all to the drugs he would slip into her drinks. In the end, she would have no resistance to him.

Damian actually trembled with the anticipated pleasure of finally having her in his power. God, but he had waited months for this moment. Never had a woman possessed his brain and his body as much as Gemma had.

From the first moment he’d seen her at that ball he’d wanted her, wanted her with a want that had gradually become an obsession. Her being his niece didn’t change a thing. If anything, it would add a delightfully perverse edge to the experience.

Damian made his way slowly back upstairs while his thoughts raced feverishly on.

He was going to have to be very careful the first time. He would have to seem to give her everything she was looking for, and obviously needing. Tenderness. Comfort. Love...

Later, when she was totally addicted to the mindless ecstasy that the drugs and he could give her, he would introduce her to more refined pleasures. It was amazing the pain a woman could endure—and even welcome—when she was high on the right cocktail.

He would have to video-tape everything, of course, once it got to that stage. Otherwise she might be tempted to tell someone after the drugs wore off. He couldn’t have that.

Damian smiled. He might even make some money out of her. It wouldn’t be the first time. Amazing how much women were prepared to pay rather than have tapes of their sexual exploits posted to their husbands or their families. They never breathed a word, either. Damian considered it was ironic that it was Nathan himself who had first given him the idea of taping sexual encounters to blackmail women. Poor old Irene...

In a way, it was a form of justice that Nathan’s own wife be similarly blackmailed.

Not that justice ever really interested Damian. He had only one aim in life.

Pleasure.

Sheer unadulterated pleasure.

He could hardly wait for tomorrow night to come.

* * *

BYRON DIDN’T COME home for dinner on the Friday night. He’d organised to meet Celeste after work for dinner in town and a night at the theatre. Ava and Vince went out for dinner as well, over to Vince’s family. Which meant Gemma would be alone at Belleview when Damian came to pick her up at nine o’clock. She hadn’t told anyone yet about the dance party, and now that she didn’t have to she was relieved.

Gemma hadn’t been looking forward to facing the frowns of disapproval. All the Whitmores thought very badly of Damian, yet in all honesty she had never seen any evidence to support his reputation as a wild and dissolute playboy. Any concerns she had ever had over the man had come from everyone around Belleview bad-mouthing him, as they had bad-mouthed Celeste. He was probably as innocent of any real wrongdoing as his sister had proved to be.

Nathan had been the chief castigator of both Campbells, yet it was Nathan who had proven to be the wicked one.

Still, it worried Gemma that she hadn’t told Ava some white lie about going out somewhere. What if Ava came home before Gemma and found her bed empty? The poor darling would worry and Gemma didn’t want that.

In the end, she decided to leave a note propped up on her pillow saying a friend from work had rung and she’d gone out to a party, and not to worry if she got home late. Byron had given her a set of keys to the house, as well as a remote control for the gates, so there was no trouble with letting herself in.

With that problem solved, Gemma set about having a relaxing bath, then getting herself ready. She had plenty of time—apparently these parties didn’t start early. Neither were they dressy affairs. Damian had suggested she wear something casual. Jeans or a skirt and top would be fine.

Gemma’s wardrobe was full of mostly classic or tailored garments but she did have a reddish-brown leather skirt which, when teamed with a simple cream silk shirt looked fairly casual. The colour also suited the auburn highlights the hairdresser regularly put into her shoulder-length brown hair. Remembering the compliment Damian had given her earlier in the week, she put it up as she had that day in a loose knot, with lots of wispy bits left around her face and neck. She put gold loops in her ears and a couple of gold chains round her neck. As it was night time, she wore a reasonable amount of make-up, high heels and perfume.

Gemma was ready and waiting, the gates open and her cream clutch bag in hand, when Damian drove in shortly before nine. His low wolf whistle when she opened the door unnerved her slightly, as did his words.

‘God, you look great. I’ll have to beat the men off with broomsticks.’

When Gemma frowned her immediate unease, Damian smiled reassuringly at her. ‘Don’t worry, love, you’re with me. If we don’t tell anyone I’m your uncle, they won’t come anywhere near you. Damian’s bird always has a hands-off sign on her.’

Gemma wasn’t entirely reassured by this idea, and neither did she like others thinking they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but she could see the sense of it if she didn’t want to ward off unwanted advances all night. The thought of dancing with perfectly strange men was suddenly anathema to her. Why had she ever agreed to come? She was not ready for this in any way, shape or form.

‘Even if I went around telling everyone I was your uncle,’ Damian added with an amused gleam in his eye, ‘no one would believe me.’

He was right, Gemma conceded as she looked him over. He looked younger than his twenty-nine years, especially when dressed all in black, as he was tonight. Absolutely everything he had on was black, from his high-necked shirt and casual woollen trousers down to his socks and shoes. There was even an ebony ring flashing on one finger and a black-faced watch on his wrist. At least no one would stare at them together as they had often done at her and Nathan.

A jab of intense dismay made her stiffen for a moment. Why do I keep thinking of him? Why can’t I forget him as he has obviously forgotten me?

You know why, taunted a dark inner voice, and Gemma’s hand instinctively moved across her stomach. God, what if she was pregnant? She didn’t want to be. Not now. Not any more. She wanted to forget Nathan, to put him right out of her mind for the rest of her life.

‘Are you feeling all right, Gemma?’ Damian asked with such a warm concern she felt terribly guilty. Her worry was probably all for nothing anyway. Her period would be along any day, once her cycle got back to normal.