Marriage And Miracles. Miranda Lee

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.

      ‘I’m fine,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘And you’re quite right, Damian. We make a handsome couple.’

      He smiled, radiating that dazzling charm which no doubt sent all the women’s hearts fluttering. But Gemma knew her heart was unlikely to flutter again for a long time. Not that it had ever fluttered for Damian. Nathan’s jealousy had been way off the mark, and quite wasted.

      A sharp bitterness shot through Gemma as she thought of all she had suffered at Nathan’s hands because of what his sick mind imagined was going on between her and Damian. In a weird kind of way, she almost wished there had been something between them to justify the treatment she had endured. There was nothing worse than being accused of something you hadn’t done, nothing worse than being punished when you were innocent.

      ‘Stop thinking about that bastard,’ Damian said abruptly, sending her thoughts scattering when he curled his hand around her empty one and pulled her down the front steps.

      Gemma found herself belted into the passenger seat of Damian’s red Ferrari before she could say boo.

      ‘Wait!’ she cried out when he zoomed through the open gates and would have taken off before she had a chance to close them. He screeched on the brakes, darting her a frustrated look.

      ‘I have to close the gates,’ she explained patiently, whereupon he gave her a sighing smile.

      ‘For a second there, I thought you’d changed your mind about coming.’

      ‘Never,’ she said, determined to dismiss Nathan from her mind for tonight. He didn’t deserve thinking about. ‘Where is this dance party, by the way?’

      ‘At a pub in North Sydney. You won’t know it. It’s in the back streets and not the newest establishment around, but the music’s great and the drinks are cheap.’

      Gemma laughed. ‘I wouldn’t think you’d care much if the drinks were cheap or not.’

      Damian flashed her a wicked grin. ‘Watch the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves,’ he quipped. ‘Light me a cigarette, would you? They’re on the dash there, and there’s a lighter in my left trouser pocket. Can’t get it myself. Must concentrate on the road. This traffic’s hell.’

      The traffic on the Pacific highway was indeed bad. Every man and his dog seemed to be heading for the city. Nevertheless, Gemma felt very uncomfortable doing something as intimate as fishing around in Damian’s trouser pocket. Luckily, she found the lighter quickly and was soon placing a glowing cigarette between Damian’s lips. Their eyes met briefly as she did so and Gemma quickly looked away. For there had been nothing platonic in the look Damian had just given her. It had been oddly intense.

      Either that, or her imagination was getting the better of her. The latter seemed the most likely.

      Damian had always been a perfect gentleman in her company. Always. Nathan’s wicked warnings had put the fear of the devil into her, Gemma decided. Listening to scurrilous gossip about people was wrong. And listening to unfounded fears was wrong too. She resolved not to do it any more.

      With this in mind Gemma turned a smiling face back towards Damian. ‘It’s really sweet of you to take me out like this. I really needed it. I was feeling awfully down.’

      ‘I