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  Aura’s brows shot up. ‘Did either of you consider,’ she asked with tart emphasis, ‘that the girlfriend may have felt that she was in control of her actions, not just an object to be stolen or kept?’

  Paul grinned unrepentantly. ‘My little feminist! All right, but Jessica used the word first. Anyway, Gemma fell out of love with me and into love with Flint, who was not interested in her.’

  ‘An awkward situation.’ Aura spoke without expression. Something in Paul’s tone, in the way he had brought the matter up, convinced her that Gemma’s defection had mattered very much.

  ‘Yes. I was cool to Flint—well, I knew it wasn’t his fault, but until I met you she was the one woman I’d thought I loved. And I don’t think I could have borne it if Flint had been in love with her. It would have seemed like the rankest betrayal, which is stupid, of course.’

  ‘Well, yes, it is a bit, because none of us is exactly in control of our emotions,’ Aura said gently, for the first time in her life understanding with an acid clarity how true this was, ‘but it must have hurt. In a funny sort of way I felt the same when Alick and Laurel got married. Alick had been my substitute brother, and I’d got into the habit of relying on him. Then Laurel came along, and although he was still there for me, I knew that nothing was ever going to be quite the same again. I despised myself for being jealous, but it didn’t stop it.’

  He gave her a quick spontaneous hug. ‘I do love you,’ he said. ‘My sensible angel. Somehow you’ve robbed the whole thing of its last nasty little sting.’

  Hidden beneath the affection and the respect, Paul nurtured a deep envy of his friend, envy of the raw sensuality that emanated from Flint, the stark, uncompromising maleness that was at once a threat and a challenge to every woman who saw him.

  Paul’s unexpected vulnerability shook her. Aura loved him at that moment more than ever. He must never know of that unwanted, savage tug of attraction, not even after it had been dissipated to nothingness by time and familiarity and the real gold of her love for Paul.

  A quick glance across the room revealed Flint still dancing with Belinda, smiling down at her lovely face with lazy approval. As though Aura’s gaze was tangible, he looked up, transfixing her with the golden fire of his eyes, then deliberately turned away. Whatever he said into Belinda’s ear made her bridle and flush.

  Sheer, black rage, the like of which she had never experienced before, fountained through Aura, terrifying her with its strength. She wanted to tear Belinda from Flint’s arms and throw her out of the room, out of the apartment into the dark, wet night, and she wanted to slap him senseless. How dared he smile like that at another woman?

  She fought a vicious battle for victory over the vulgar, indiscriminate desire that held her prisoner. Slowly, laboriously, she used her considerable willpower to banish the bastard emotion so that common sense could reassert itself.

  Although she succeeded, it took even more effort to force herself to smile and talk and behave normally, to pretend that nothing was wrong, that she was the same as she had always been. Inside her psyche some fundamental shift had taken place, some rearrangement of her inner self, and she didn’t know how to defend herself against the shaming, painful flaw that marred her self-image as surely as the scar marred Flint’s face.

  Except, she thought acidly, somehow he managed to turn even that into an asset. The cruel mark that would have disfigured anyone else merely emphasised his elemental attraction.

  The evening wore down. By two in the morning everyone had gone, even Alick and Laurel, Paul having announced his intention of taking Aura home. Glowing and sweetly mischievous, Natalie had left an hour before with Paul’s uncle, and Mrs McAlpine had been driven home by the extremely reluctant Belinda, who at the last moment had kissed Flint with obvious enjoyment. An enjoyment, Aura realised with sick self-derision, he had reciprocated.

  ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Paul said, looking ironically at his friend. ‘Don’t wait up for me, though.’

  Flint’s teeth showed briefly in the smile that made Aura think of a hungry tiger, burnished and gleaming in a tropical forest. She almost flinched; only the armour she had spun out of determination kept her outwardly serene, although it didn’t protect her from the maelstrom of emotions the evening had unleashed.

  Untilshe had seen Flint smile into Belinda’s face she hadbeen more or less in control of her feelings and her life. Her poise had been hard-won, and secretly she was rather proud of it.

  But that openly sexual smile had wrenched it all away, torn free the shield of her restraint and revealed in all their wildness and untamed greed the desires that prowled beneath the thin veneer of civilised reserve.

  Instinct warned Aura that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

  She was caught in a trap from which there was no escape, the trap of her own needs and desires. Oh, she loved Paul, but, set against the primitive sensations Flint roused in her, love didn’t seem to be enough.

  Rationalise it however she did, she was in trouble. If Flint came back to New Zealand and started up his vineyard just north of Auckland they would see quite a bit of him. Although Paul made friends easily, his loyalty was to the old friends with whom they did most of their socialising. Yes, she would certainly see Flint, and this ache of longing wouldn’t die of starvation.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ Paul murmured in the car.

  She shrugged, staring out through the windscreen. Rain dashed down, was smoothed away by the rhythmic sweep of the wipers. Street-lights danced in the drops. ‘I hate winter,’ she said dully.

  ‘Waste of emotion. It comes, and eventually it goes. And admit it, darling, it’s not always like this. We get glorious weather as often in winter as we do in any other season. It’s just cooler.’

  She sighed. ‘Mmm.’

  ‘What’s worrying you?’

  ‘Nothing.’ What else could she say?

  I want to go to bed with your best man and best friend? No, I don’t love him, I don’t even like him much, but when he looks at me I get these strange sensations in my body and I don’t know what to do.

  A sudden shiver shot down her spine. She yawned. ‘It went off well, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but I knew it would. You’re an excellent hostess.’ One hand covered hers briefly, squeezed, and was withdrawn.

  Nice hands, she thought, looking at them on the wheel with horrifying detachment. He was a nice man, well made, attractive, sexy in a wholesome way.

  Her teeth tightened on her lip, cutting through the thin outer layers of skin. What the hell was she going to do?

  At the unit he came in, looking about him with concealed distaste. ‘I wish you’d let me move you into the new flat,’ he said.

  Aura smiled. ‘So does Mother.’

  ‘I’ll bet. Are you going to make me a cup of coffee?’

  They talked of the party, of other things, comfortable, relaxed, and when the coffee was drained he turned her into his arms. Aura held her face eagerly for the kiss, and it was nice. He kissed her gently, then a little less gently, but when she pressed herself against him in an agony, trying to summon the quick leap of the flesh she had felt in Flint’s arms, nothing happened.

  Paul’s lips lingered on the smooth curve of her shoulder. There was no covetousness in his kiss, yet Aura’s skin crawled. He laughed softly, and she realised that he had mistaken her shiver for one of anticipation.

  ‘No,’ he said, straightening up, ‘I’m too old for making love on a sofa with your mother in the next room. I can wait.’

  Half of her was pleased, as though she had been threatened, then reprieved. The other half was wretched. She needed reassurance. If they had already been lovers this lightning flash of craving, this rage of sensation would have been satisfied, and she wouldn’t ache every time she thought of Flint.

  But of course Paul was right. Now was not the time, or the place.

  She couldn’t sleep. Every quarter hour the chimes of the ponderous old clock that took up far
too much room in the flat’s small sitting-room resounded in her ear. Normally she never heard it.

  After dawn came in, grey and wet and intrusive, she managed to drift into an uneasy doze that was interrupted almost immediately by the shrill stridulation of the telephone.

  It was Paul. ‘Darling, I’ve just got a rather panic-stricken call from that firm I’m acting for in Samoa. They want me up there for a day or two to clear up a small mess.’

  ‘You’re a solicitor! I thought it was Flint who was the troubleshooter,’ she muttered, rubbing sleep from the corner of her eyes.

  He laughed. ‘And so he is, infinitely more glamorous than I am, I can assure you. Respectable partners in respectable law firms act as troubleshooters in an entirely different way. This is just to tidy up a case I’ve been working on for some months. There’s no derring-do or danger involved. Flint would find it incredibly boring. It’s just that things have moved a little more quickly than we expected, and they need help now.’

  ‘But it’s the weekend!’

  ‘Which is why I want to get up there today. Tomorrow is a day of rest, and no one will be talking then. Don’t be cross, sweetheart. I’ll be home on Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest.’

  As cheerfully as she could, she said, ‘Of course you must go. Just don’t dare be called away when we’re on our honeymoon!’

  ‘I’ll make sure of that,’ he said tenderly. ‘In two weeks and nine hours, darling, we’ll be married, and nobody will be able to tear me from your side.’

  Ice coagulated in her stomach. She felt as though he’d thrown her to the wolves, which was completely ridiculous, because she didn’t need to see anything of Flint Jansen while Paul was away. Briskly she said, ‘Enjoy the sun.’

  ‘Not without you.’

  I need you, she screamed silently as she belied her emotions by replacing the receiver very gently. Damn it, how can you go away when I need you here now?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Was Paul blind? If he loved her, surely he could sense the anguish she was enduring?

  But of course that was unfair, because she was doing her best to hide her emotions from everyone. Even herself.

  Especially herself.

  And they weren’t emotions, they were a simple matter of hormones. Physical attraction, she thought grimly, was like a cold: inconvenient but not fatal.

  On her way to the kitchen she glanced through the window. Judging by the lighter sky in the east, the depression that had kept them drenched these last days might finally be on the move. The possibility should have lifted her spirits.

  She made coffee and ate a slice of toast, deliberately keeping her mind off everything but the most mundane thoughts. The newspaper had little of interest in it, but her glance fell on a review that made her bite her lip. An Australian Opera Company had brought The Pearl Fishers to Auckland for two weeks, and she and Paul were booked to go and see it that night. Opera was not her favourite form of music, but she had been looking forward to this one.

  ‘Oh, damn,’ she mumbled, folding the paper up with quick, savage movements.

  Hoping the sun might lift her mood, she went out into the garden and began to weed the front border. It was still too wet; great clumps of earth clung defiantly to each root ball, but valiant green spears of daffodil and jonquil leaves were pushing their way through and she could no longer resist their mute appeal.

  At eleven o’clock Natalie came strolling out to collect the mail. ‘What are you doing, you stupid girl?’ she demanded. ‘You’ll ruin your nails.’

  ‘I’m wearing gloves.’ But Aura got to her feet. The small bed was clean and free of clogging growth. ‘Look, there are all sorts of bulbs coming up.’

  ‘We won’t be here long enough to see the flowers,’ Natalie said, dismissing them without even looking.

  She was fond of saying that she liked gardens but not gardening. Aura had long realised that her mother liked gardens as a background to her beauty, and adored flowers as gifts not for their own sakes, but because they were homage.

  ‘Sometimes I think you set out to make things difficult,’ Natalie complained over her shoulder as she bent down to collect the mail. ‘Your nails can still tear, even through gloves, you know. At least you’ll be able to afford a gardener when you and Paul decide to buy a house.’

  Possibly, but when that happy day came Aura had every intention of doing as much as she could in her own garden. In the meantime she would enjoy the lovely grounds around the apartment block.

  They would move when it was time to have children. In the past she had dreamed of Paul’s children, but now, even as she smiled, the children who sprang to her mind bore no imprint of the man she loved; they had tiger eyes glowing golden beneath black lashes, and skin bronzed by the summer sun into an antique patina. Instead of Paul’s smooth good looks their features were blunt and strong, with wide mouths and high, stark cheekbones and strong jaws. Too energetic to be the handsome children she had imagined before she’d met Flint, they possessed a natural arrogance that translated into their walk and their movements, even the tilt of heads that gleamed with a distinctive copper sheen in the sunlight.

  Pain almost overwhelmed her. She was jerked from it by a sharp little sound from her mother. Natalie was thrusting a piece of paper into her pocket, and although her head was turned away, Aura was sure she had gone pale.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked brusquely, remembering other occasions when the mail had brought bad news, when mingled with the letters of condolence there had been more and ever more bills.

  ‘Nothing.’ Natalie sighed. ‘At least, nothing to do with you. An old friend from schooldays has just lost a— grandchild. Oh God, I hate this place! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear the name of this wretched suburb without remembering how miserable I’ve been here.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be for long now,’ Aura said gently. She smiled sympathetically down at her maddening, silly mother, who was relying on her to rescue her from these surroundings. All her life someone had looked after Natalie; it was only natural that she expected her daughter to follow suit.

  Although, she thought grimly as she followed her mother into the house, the salary she’d get only one year out of university wouldn’t go anywhere near satisfying Natalie’s needs.

  Still, if Aura had been working she wouldn’t feel so beholden to Paul, who had waved the magic wand of his love and his wealth and made everything all right.

  There were other disadvantages, too. Like the prince in every fairy story, Paul was conventional. He didn’t see why his wife should work. Aura had a battle in front of her, but Paul, she thought as she scrubbed her hands, was reasonable. It wouldn’t take long for him to understand that she’d go crazy with boredom if she had nothing to do. These last months had been bad enough, but at least she’d had Natalie to look after. Now, with her mother well again, Aura was ready for the challenge of a career.

  ‘Last night was a success,’ Natalie said in her most brittle voice. ‘A credit to you. Or to me, I suppose, because I taught you.’

  Not really. Aunt Helen, who was really a distant cousin, and Alick had been her instructors in social graces and duties, but Aura wasn’t unkind enough to point that out. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,’ she said instead.

  ‘That brother-in-law of Mary’s is rather a dish. He comes from Dunedin. I remember going to his wedding with your father.’ Natalie gave a small, sad smile before picking up the latest Vogue and riffling through the pages. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she said after a few minutes, ‘Flint rang.’

  ‘Flint?’

  ‘Mm.’ Natalie’s voice was vague. ‘He’s going to be out all day, but he said he’d collect you for The Pearl Fishers round about six tonight.’

  ‘Flint did?’ Aura’s voice resounded stupidly in the quiet room.

  ‘Yes. Apparently Paul arranged it.’

  Of course. He wouldn’t want her to miss a treat. Aura’s mouth settled into a hard line. Flint was enough of a hazard to
her peace of mind at a distance; spending an evening in his company would be sheer, stupid recklessness.

  She waiting a few minutes until her mother went into her bedroom before ringing the apartment. Rather relieved when no one answered, she left a message on the answerphone refusing Flint’s kind invitation to take Paul’s place. She hoped he couldn’t discern the panicky note in her voice.

  The early sun was soon banished by another pall of heavy clouds, followed almost immediately by rain. Natalie spent most of the afternoon on her bed, looking weary and as despairing as she had in the months after her husband’s death, but refused to admit to anything other than tiredness. There was no sign of the letter that had startled her. However, when afternoon began to thicken into evening, she dragged herself to her feet and decided to take a bath.

  ‘Aren’t you going to have one before you go out?’ she asked listlessly.

  Aura shook her head. ‘No. I cancelled.’

  Natalie looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. ‘Probably a wise decision,’ she said.

  Aura sat down with a book. She tried hard to concentrate on the words, but Flint’s image danced between her eyes and the page, bringing with it that feverish, unbidden excitement. Exhausted by the pull and tug of her emotions, her mind spinning in ever-decreasing circles, she longed to put her head down and slip gratefully into a coma, one that would last long enough for this whole horrible situation to go away.

  Except that it wouldn’t solve anything. How was it possible to love one man and want another?

  ‘Darling!’ Natalie called from the bathroom.

  Pleased to be summoned from the dark wasteland of her thoughts, Aura answered mechanically, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Get me the bottle of perfume on my dressing-table, will you?’

  It was new, and very expensive. Knowing that it was no use complaining, Aura picked it up. Natalie was incapable of resisting the luxuries she had been brought up to consider necessities.

  The slam of a car door outside brought Aura’s head up. ‘I wonder who that can be?’