A Mortal Sin (4 page)

“We were going to walk through the gardens.”

“So we were.”

Her laugh sounded brittle and forced. The mention of Frankston did it, he realized. How much did Jean reveal about him and Kitty. “You’re jumping to conclusions, I’ve never been to Frankston before.”

“Haven’t you?”

“No, I just heard of it.”

“From a friend?” she queried.

“No, I wouldn’t call Kitty a friend exactly, she’s um...”

“Your mistress?”

“My, the little kitten has got sharp claws.”

 When she stood up, he noticed tears shimmering in her eyes. “Thank you for the chips.” Tears ran down her cheeks, yet she walked away with a quiet dignity.

Anger turned to remorse and he started after her. “Daphne, come back.”

He saw the car first, speeding around the corner, then the child toddling out from the park straight into its path. He sprang forward and started sprinting, but Daphne was yards ahead of him.

As she charged after the child, he knew he would never catch her in time. Dear God, no way he could make her stop before she sacrificed herself under the wheels of the car. In that split second, with his heart pounding like it would burst, he knew for certain he had found the girl of his dreams, but she might be cruelly snatched away from him before their relationship even started.

She brought the toddler to the ground with a flying tackle any footballer would be proud of. The immediate screams of the child were drowned out as the car roared past, only inches from where they both lay on the road.

Daphne climbed unsteadily to her feet as he arrived on the scene, with a white faced young woman a couple of paces behind him.

“You saved my baby. I’ll be indebted to you for life.”

“I didn’t do anything much,” Daphne replied shakily

“I took my eyes off him for a moment, he was so quick.”

“Don’t distress yourself any further.” Paul picked up the child and handed him to his mother. “Hey, don’t cry little man, it’s all over now.” He ruffled the child’s hair. “Could we see you home?”

“No thank you, I only live around the corner. God bless both of you.”

For a moment he watched the woman walk away before he turned towards Daphne, who had gone as white as death.

“My God, Daphne. Are you all right?”

“Yes. At least the little fellow hasn’t got a scratch.” She ruefully surveyed her bleeding knees.

“It was a plucky thing you did. You might have been killed.”

She forced a smile even though her knees stung, because Paul looked so anxious.

“You’ll have to let me drive you home now,” he said.

“I suppose you think I did it on purpose to cadge a lift,” she teased.

“I don’t care why, but it was the bravest act I’ve ever witnessed. I say, you look awful.”

“I think I’m going to faint.”

When she came to she was sitting on the ground supported by Paul. “How idiotic of me.” He looked as white and sickly as she felt. “I’m all right now.”

“I better get you home.”

On arrival at the boarding house, he parked the car and followed her inside.

“My room is at the end of the hall. I’ll be fine, thank you. We aren’t supposed to have men visitors,” she apologized, giving a nervous giggle. “Hello, Mrs. Rogers.”

“My dear, what have you done?” She glanced at Daphne who was inspecting her battered knees.

Briefly he explained what happened.

“Well, what a courageous little lass you are.”

“I’m all right, Mrs. Rogers. Honestly, Paul’s making too much out of it.”

“Would it be all right if I help Miss Clarke to her room, and see she attends to the lacerations on her knees?”

“Of course, I can see you’re a gentleman, and Daphne’s a real little lady.”

The hallway was carpeted. When they came to her room, he took the key out of her trembling hand and opened the door. It was a bed/sitting room combined, but she kept everything fresh and pretty.

“It’s small, but it suits me,” she said, making no apology for the humble room. She gnawed the inside of her lip. “You shouldn’t be in here, I mean, it isn’t proper.”

“I’m not about to ravish you, even if I am an Englishman. Some of us are quite civilized.”

She realized he was having a little jibe at her.

“There’s some cold water in the jug and disinfectant in my first aid kit.”

His hands when they bathed her knees were gentle. She liked him so much it terrified her. Love at first sight? She had always scorned such a notion before, but now?

His eyes were a warm chocolate brown, his black lashes thick and long. His hair, though cut short, was nevertheless, an unruly mop. It was dark, but some of the strands were shot with gold. Heat burned her cheeks when he glanced up and caught her staring.

“Do you think you might recognize me next time, Sunshine?” The way he lowered his voice when he said the name gave her goose bumps. He smiled, revealing a deep cleft in his chin.

“You’ve got a dimple.” She blurted out the first thing she thought of to cover her confusion at the feelings he aroused. Danger, warned a little inner voice.

“And you’re beautiful.” His face moved closer, so she could not avoid his questing lips when they fastened on to hers. His mouth felt warm and firm, his caress sending tingling sensations all the way through her. She had been kissed on a few occasions before, but never like this. When he pulled away, she trembled.

“This isn’t just a line, but I like you more than any woman I’ve ever met before?” He watched her lips tremble. “I’m twenty-four, unmarried. It wouldn’t be reasonable to expect me to, well… I mean there have been a few women like Kitty. Are you disappointed in me?”

“No.”

“Will you let me pick you up tomorrow? About ten? We could go for a drive in the country, maybe see a picture show in the evening.”

“I’d like to, thanks, Paul.”

After he departed she sat on the couch gnawing her lower lip. It was foolish allowing emotion to cloud her better judgment. Nursing had been an all-consuming, driving ambition for years. Not being academically brilliant, she had worked hard to obtain good marks. But she was smart enough to know that this incredible attraction for Paul could prove dangerous, especially when they knew so little about each other.

Chapter Three

Daphne, wearing a navy linen dress piped with white pique, and a matching linen hat, waited for Paul to arrive. She kept twisting the strap on her handbag. What if he decided not to turn up? Foolish thinking a man like him would be interested in an unsophisticated working girl, regardless of what he said.

The Buick screamed to a halt, a foot or two from the front gate, and Paul practically leapt from the car. “Sorry I’m late.” He smiled, but Daphne thought he seemed tired.

Dressed in a pair of tailored sports pants, with a casual blue shirt opened at the throat, he looked what he was, a devastatingly handsome playboy. Her fear escalated until she was almost overwhelmed by it. Paul had the power to destroy her.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was tremulous as she allowed him to help her into the car.

He didn’t wear a hat, and the sun picked out the strands of gold in his hair, bringing them to brilliant life.

“Aren’t you curious about where I’m taking you? I’m sorry for being late, by the way. I slept in.”

“It’s all right.” What’s wrong with you Daphne Clarke? You have no right questioning him about what he did last night, it’s his own business.

“Where are we going?” She touched his arm.

“To Healesville.”

“Healesville! It’s miles away.”

“Not in a car. I thought we could go to the Sir Colin McKenzie Sanctuary, would you like that?”

“Love it.” She laughed happily.

“Jean’s suggestion,” he admitted with a grin.

“Oh.”

“I spoke to her last night. Wallabies, koalas, wedge tailed eagles, just Daphne’s cup of tea.”

“It makes me sound dull.”

“You’re interested in tropical diseases, or so I hear.”

“Jean again. Yes I am. Molly Gratton, one of my doctor friends, well her father practices medicine in Singapore and she got me interested. She intends taking over his practice when he retires.”

“Do you mind if I drive with the window down?” he asked.

“No.”

“It might clear my head.”

“Does it need clearing?”

He gave a rueful grin. “Yes, afraid so.”

They drove along in companionable silence for a time, and it did not take long for them to pass through the suburbs leading on to the open road.

“Tell me about yourself, Paul. Where you went to school, that sort of thing.”

“I attended Eton, after that Oxford for a couple of years. Left before finishing my course, and went into the family business.”

She took her hat off so the warm breeze could blow through her hair, and she laughed out loud at this unaccustomed feeling of freedom. “This is wonderful. Do you lead a very social life in England?”

“I suppose so.”

 His fingers on the steering wheel were long, slender and quite tanned, as were his arms. A gold watch on a brown leather band nestled amidst the dark hairs growing just above his wrist. He would have shaved recently, yet his cheeks and chin still had a bluish tinge.

When one of his hands clasped hers, heat fired her cheeks, but she did not try to pull free, even when his thumb caressed her knuckles.

“I don’t bite, you know.” His voice flowed over her in a feather light caress.

“I suppose you get plenty of invitations during the Debutants coming out season?”

“He laughed. “Yes, I’m on the eligible males list.”

“Right background and everything?”

“Yep,” he answered with a wry grin.

“I think it must be exciting. Tell me about it. Some of the things you might do, so I can compare it to the information I’ve read.”

Was she teasing him? Here was a chance to tell her his correct name, yet fear held him back. One word. Illegitimate. He launched into a description of the last Eton versus Harrow cricket match, and about Simpsons in the Strand, where only men were allowed to lunch in the ground floor restaurant.

“Oh, how unfair,” she said.

“It opened in 1828, or thereabouts, as a chess and coffee club.”

“The Henley Regatta, tell me all about it.”

“I missed going last year, but it’s rather fun.”

“Is it true men have to wear tails and opera coats when attending the Royal Opera?”

“Yes, carry silver topped canes, too. Enough of my social life, what about yours?”

“I don’t do anything much. Sometimes a couple of the other nurses and I might go late night shopping on Friday, and treat ourselves to supper. A pie, chips, peas and tomato sauce, not bad for a shilling, especially with a cup of tea thrown in as well.”

Dear God, she felt happy with that. After an evening out, a snack laid out for his friends might include smoked salmon sides, lobster, caviar, game pies, champagne and cigars.

“What else do you do?” he queried, cursing the difference in their backgrounds.

“Nothing much, I spend a lot of time studying. My parents sacrificed a lot so I could become a nurse and I want to do well.”

She would be good at nursing he decided. Behind the laughter lurking in her eyes there was real compassion. He had never come across anyone so caring, so sweet or unspoiled. Working class. Completely unsuitable as a wife, Sir Phillip would say.

“I wouldn’t mind being one of your patients. Would you visit me after hours, or do my shopping in your own time?”

Her cheeks flamed and she hung her head. “Jean exaggerates. At home it’s different. I go to church dances, oh a ball or two, the odd card evening. In summer I swim in the river with my brothers. Sometimes a group of us might get together for a ride on our bikes, from one town to another just for fun.”

“I normally use a car for getting around in.”

“Do you work?” she asked.

“Yes, I look after the managerial side of things in the family business.” His lip twisted slightly. “I’m not a complete lay-about, you know.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you were. Everyone is entitled to a holiday.”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t a holiday. Well, it’s a working one, anyway. We have some interests out here.”

“Oh?”

“We’re into wool.” He didn’t want to sound evasive, but didn’t want to elaborate too much, in case he scared her off. For once, having wealth could prove to be a curse.

“Are you?”

“Yes, my father owns a mill.”

“What a coincidence. My brother Tom worked in the woolen mills at Wangaratta for a while.”

He opened his mouth to confess the family company had connections there, then quickly shut it again.

“You’re terribly rich, aren’t you?” Her speech sounded quite English at times.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“I wish you weren’t, Paul, I mean, so rich.”

“Why should it matter?”

She didn’t answer, but continued staring at the passing countryside.

“I thought we might go to the sanctuary first.” He finally broke the silence between them

When they alighted from the car, he took her hand. He enjoyed the feel of her soft fingers and the sweet subtle perfume of her skin. He liked everything about her. More than liked, to be brutally honest.

“Leave your hat. In the sun your hair turns red.”

“Tom called me carrots for years. It used to send me into screaming fits once,” she confessed with a girlish giggle.

“You get on well with your brothers?”

“Yes. You would like Tom, everyone does. Rob is quieter, but he’s a good kid.”

“I would like to meet your family, Daphne.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She stared into his eyes. Something flashed in their deep, chocolate depths, something dangerously sweet, a secret promise that she couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m going home for Christmas. My parents would make you welcome, provided you don’t mind bunking in with Rob, and Tom if he’s home.”

“I went to boarding school for years, so I’m used to sharing.”

She let him lead her into the bush. A kookaburra laughed loudly from somewhere close by, a grey kangaroo, so tame it came right up close, watched them with large soulful eyes.