She thought of Jim then, but in the most fleeting way. He had become a dim figure in her mind, and her memories of him were fragmented, blurred by events that had taken place since his death, by those whom she loved, those who now peopled her life, by time passing. It seemed to her that she could not remember when she had not been Shane’s wife. But the years had flown by since their marriage. This sudden thought made her draw away, look up at him.
He stared down at her, his black brows knitting together.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing, darling. I was just thinking that very soon a new year will begin, and I expect that it, too, will disappear in a flash, like all the others have.’
‘Too true, my love. On the other hand, look at it this way—1982 is only the first of the next fifty years we’re going to spend together.’
‘Oh Shane, what a lovely thing to say, and it’s a beautiful thought with which to start the new year.’
He brushed her cheek with his mouth, tightened his arm around her, swirled her around several times, and moved her out into the middle of the ballroom. Paula smiled inside, loving him so very much. Then she peered around the ballroom, seeking members of the family, her closest friends. It truly was a gathering of the clans… the Hartes, the O’Neills and the Kallinskis were all represented tonight.
She spotted her mother dancing with Jason, looking as much in love as Madelana, who dreamily floated by in Philip’s arms. Her father-in-law, Bryan, was leading Shane’s mother in a sweeping, old-fashioned waltz, and Geraldine winked at her as they went sailing grandly past. Emily and Winston were coming onto the floor, followed closely by Michael and Amanda. She saw her Aunt Elizabeth gazing into the face of her French husband, Marc Deboyne, who was obviously enjoying himself tremendously tonight; even her old Aunt Edwina was on her feet making an effort, being solicitously shepherded around by a gallant Sir Ronald.
The music stopped abruptly, and Lester Lannin was saying into the microphone, ‘Ladies and gentlemen… it’s almost midnight. We have BBC radio on the hotel’s relay system. Here it comes… here’s Big Ben… the countdown to midnight…’
Everyone had stopped dancing to listen to the orchestra leader, and the ballroom was quiet, perfectly still. The chimes of the great clock in Westminster boomed out again and again. When the last stroke finally reverberated there was a resounding drumroll, and Shane was hugging Paula, kissing her, wishing her a happy new year, to be followed by Philip, then Madelana, doing the same thing.
Paula returned Madelana’s affectionate embrace.
‘Let me say it again, Maddy… welcome to the family. And may this be the first of many happy years for you and Philip.’
Maddy was touched by Paula’s lovely words, but before she had a chance to respond the orchestra struck up Auld Lang Syne.
Paula and Philip grabbed hold of her hands, pulled her forward as they began to sing.
Encircled by her new family, Maddy felt their love flowing out to her, and she wondered how she had ever been so lucky to become one of them. But she had, and she would be forever grateful. For years she had had nothing but sadness and loss. Now at last everything had changed.
Chapter 25
Madelana lay with her head resting on Philip’s shoulder.
The bedroom was shadow-filled, quiet except for the sound of his even breathing as he dozed, the faint rustling of the silk curtains, the ticking of the ormolu clock on the antique French Provincial chest.
The weather was somewhat mild for January, spring-like almost, and earlier Philip had opened the tall window. Now the night air blowing in was fresh and cool, laden with the tangy salt smell of the Mediterranean, the freshness of green-growing things in the sprawling gardens of Faviola.
She slipped out of bed, glided over to the window, leaned against the sill, looked out at the grounds, enjoying the gentle silence that pervaded the landscape at this late hour. She lifted her eyes. The sky was a deep pavonian blue that was nearly black, and resembled a canopy of velvet, high-flung like a great are above the earth, filled with brilliant stars. Earlier, clouds had obscured the moon, but they had drifted away, and she saw that it was full tonight, a perfect sphere, and clear.
A long sigh of contentment trickled through her. They had been at the villa for ten days, relaxing, taking it easy after their trips to Vienna and Berlin. They had done very little since they had been here, except love each other, sleep late, go for walks in the gardens and on the beach, and take leisurely drives along the coast. They had spent most of their time at the villa, where Solange fussed over them like a mother hen, and Marcel cooked imaginative and delicious meals, and was forever thinking up some new dish with which to tempt them.
They read and listened to music, and sometimes she played her guitar for Philip, and sang her favourite Southern folk songs. He listened enraptured, and Madelana was pleased and flattered that he found her music entertaining. ‘It’s been ten days of absolute bliss, doing nothing in particular, having you all to myself,’ Philip had said to her that morning, and she had told him she felt exactly the same way.
A tranquillity abounded here at Faviola, just as it did at Dunoon, and she drew enormous strength, as well as pleasure, from the quietness and the natural beauty of both places. Dunoon. It was her home now, just as the penthouse atop the McGill Tower in Sydney was her home. But it was the house on the sheep station at Coonamble that she loved the most. She had fallen in love with it at first sight. As she had with Philip. And he with her.
Madelana shivered and goose bumps speckled her arms, as she remembered the first time they had made love. She had lain in bed, weeping into his pillow after he had left the room, because when she had tried to envision the future with him she had seen no future. How foolish she had been that day… and how wrong. She did have a future with Philip McGill Amory. She was his wife. And, as Paula had said, 1982 was only the first of many happy years to come. They had a lifetime together stretching out before them.
She loved him… loved him so much it seemed almost unbearable at times. When he was absent from her she felt an enormous sense of loss, and experienced genuine physical pain, a tightness across her chest that only went away when he returned. Fortunately they had not been apart much since he had followed her to New York last October. He had suddenly arrived without warning, two weeks after she had left Sydney, had breezily walked into her office at Harte’s on Fifth Avenue, unannounced, grinning from ear to ear. But his eyes had been anxious, she had noticed that immediately.
He had swept her off to lunch at ‘21’, then taken her to dinner at Le Cirque, and it had been wonderful to be with him again. The minute she had left him at the airport in Sydney, she had suddenly known how much she cared. And on the long flight home there was a yearning for him in her heart that she knew would never go away. Never, not as long as she lived. The love she felt for Philip superseded everything in her life, even her career, if she had been asked to choose.
Later that same night, as they lay enfolded in each other’s arms, after making love in the privacy of her apartment, he had asked her to marry him. She had not hesitated, had accepted his proposal at once.
They had talked well into the night, making their plans for the future. He had insisted they keep their engagement a secret. ‘But only because I don’t want a big fuss,’ he had carefully explained. Equally as strong willed as he in certain ways, she had tried to persuade him to tell Paula. ‘Because she will have to find a replacement for me. I can’t—I won’t—leave her in the lurch, Philip. She’s been far too good to me. Besides, that’s not my way of doing things. I have a responsibility to her, and to myself.’
Philip had understood her sentiments. Nevertheless he had pointed out that she could find a replacement without informing Paula, and he had been so tough with her about it she had had no option but to agree. And, oddly enough, she had not had to look far in the end. Cynthia Adamson, who worked in Marketing, had been a protégée of hers and a favourite of Paula’s fo
r some time. The young woman showed extraordinary promise, was quick, intelligent, diligent, and devoted to Paula and Harte’s.
Maddy had realized that Cynthia could handle most of her work when she left, had the necessary potential to become Paula’s personal assistant eventually. This had put her mind at ease to some extent, and she had made a point of bringing Cynthia into her orbit for the remainder of her time at the store.
Philip had stayed on until the end of the month, had then gone back to Australia for two weeks to attend to certain business matters, and had finally returned to New York at the end of November.
The minute he had arrived, he had announced that they were going to get married immediately. To have a big wedding, with his family in attendance, would have meant too much of a delay for him, he had explained. And far too much excitement. ‘But we ought to give them a chance to come over. And we ought at least to inform your mother. And Paula,’ Maddy had pointed out, filled with discomfort about excluding them.
He had been adamant. ‘No, I won’t wait for them to make their endless plans, to take over. It’s got to be now.’ He had laughed then, had said lightly, ‘I’m afraid of losing you, don’t you see? I must marry you at once.’ Despite that laughing face, the carefree tone of voice, she had noticed the anxiety dwelling there once more, clouding his clear blue eyes. She had agreed to do anything he wished… just to make that panic-stricken look go away. She could not bear to see him troubled or upset.
And so they were married quietly at the beginning of December, in a Roman Catholic ceremony at St Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue, with only her Boston friend, Patsy Smith, and Miranda O’Neill and her husband Elliot James present. She had worn an elegant winter-white wool dress with a matching coat by Trigère, and had carried a trailing spray of pink and yellow orchids, and afterwards Philip had taken them all to lunch at La Grenouille.
‘I think we’d better consummate this marriage at once,’ he had said teasingly later in the day, when they had returned to their vast suite at the Pierre Hotel. And only after they had made love did he finally agree that they could telephone his family in England.
They had spoken first to Daisy, who was staying at Pennistone Royal in Yorkshire, and then to Paula, who was at the house in Belgrave Square. His mother and his sister had not sounded particularly surprised, and they had been overjoyed at the news, if somewhat disappointed to have missed the actual wedding. Both of them had welcomed her warmly into the family, and she had felt their sincerity and love coming across the transatlantic wire as they had reached out to her.
And then it had begun… a whole new life for her.
Philip loved her as deeply, as desperately, as she loved him. This not only manifested itself in his physical passion for her, his tenderness and kindness, but in the way in which he showered gifts on her, spoiled her outrageously. The flawless, pure white diamond engagement ring, the pearl-and-diamond choker and chandelier earrings, had been only the first of many valuable jewels he presented to her. There had been other gifts as well… furs, Hermès bags, and couture clothes. But he was just as likely to show up with a pair of gloves, a silk scarf, a favourite book or tape he wished to share with her, a bottle of perfume, a bunch of violets, or some other such small yet meaningful token.
But the most important aspect of her new life was her husband. Philip filled the empty spaces of her heart, and he gave her a sense of security and of belonging; she no longer felt so alone.
There were times when she had to pinch herself to make sure this was not all a dream. That it was real, that he was real…
She did not hear Philip get out of bed, and she started in surprise when he wrapped his arms around her. She looked up at him.
He kissed the top of her head. ‘What are you doing, standing here at the window? You’ll catch cold, darling.’
Madelana turned around within the circle of his arms so that she was facing him. She reached up to touch his cheek. ‘I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to look at the gardens. They’re so beautiful in the moonlight. And then I started thinking—’
‘What about?’ he interrupted, gazing down at her.
‘Everything that’s happened in the last few months. It’s like a dream, Philip. And sometimes I have the awful feeling I’m going to wake up and discover none of it is true, and that you’re not real.’
‘Oh, but I am very real, my darling, and this is not a dream. It’s reality. Our reality.’ He drew her closer to him, held her tightly against his bare chest, stroked her hair. There was a long moment of silence between them, before he said, ‘I’ve never known peace like this. Or such love. I cherish you, my lovely Maddy. And I want you to know I will always be constant. There will never be another woman in my life, not ever again.’
‘I know that, Philip. Oh darling… I do love you so…’
‘Thank God for that! And I love you, too.’
He bent down, kissed her gently on the lips.
She clung to him.
He found himself involuntarily sliding his hands down her back, over her lovely, small, rounded buttocks. The satin of her nightdress was smooth and cool and curiously erotic to him. He pressed his body closer to his wife’s and in an instant he was aroused.
Madelana began to tremble, wanting him again, as she knew he suddenly wanted her, even though they had made love only a short while before. They were always like this, reaching out to each other, unable to keep their hands off each other. She had never known this kind of aching, all-consuming physical desire, this overwhelming passion, this constant need to possess and be possessed. The depth and strength of her feelings for him were unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.
The heat was flowing through her, rising from her thighs, from the very core of her, spreading through her body up into her neck and face. Her cheeks were flaming. She kissed his chest, then put her arms around him tightly. Her fingers pressed against his shoulder blades, smoothed down over his broad back.
Philip was conscious of the heat from her body, and it seemed to scorch him. He reached for one of her breasts, began to caress it, and as he did he kissed her neck, then brought his mouth to hers once more. Their kisses were deep, sensual, and they stood in front of the window, locked in a fierce embrace, welded together as if never to be separated. And then finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the bed.
They slipped out of their nightclothes, and he ran his strong but gentle hands over her slender body, marvelling at its beauty. Moonlight was flooding the room, and in its soft and muted light her skin was taking on a silvery sheen; she looked ethereal, of another world.
He bent over her, kissed the cleft between her breasts, trailed his mouth down her stomach, and she shivered and reached for him. And quickly, with little preamble, he took her to him, joined himself to her, and they loved each other for a long time.
***
She told him two days later.
It was a radiant day, bright and hard as a diamond. The sky was a sharp azure blue and cloudless, the glittering Mediterranean Sea the colour of lapis, the sun a golden orb, but without any warmth. Despite the beauty of the day there was a nip in the air, a hint of snow coming down from the Alps.
They were sitting on the terrace overlooking the vast sun-filled gardens of Faviola, bundled up in thick sweaters and warm coats. Earlier they had gone for a walk, and now they were sipping an aperitif before lunch. Philip had been talking about their travel plans for the next few weeks. Maddy had listened, said little, even though he had given her the opening she’d been looking for, and a small silence had fallen between them.
She broke it, when she said, ‘I don’t think we should go on to Rome, Philip. I think it would be better if we returned to London.’
He looked at her swiftly, struck by the odd note of tension in her voice, a nuance that had been absent for weeks. A black brow arched. ‘Why, darling?’
Madelana cleared her throat, said softly. ‘
There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a few days… I have a strange feeling…’ She stopped, cleared her throat, and after a slight hesitation, finished quietly, ‘I think I’m pregnant.’
He looked startled for a moment, taken aback, and then a smile broke through and his blue eyes sparkled with joy. His excited voice echoed the expression on his face, when he exclaimed, ‘Maddy, this is the most wonderful news! The best I’ve had since you said you’d marry me.’
Reaching for her, he brought her into his arms, kissed her tenderly, then pressed her head close to his chest, stroked her hair.
After a moment, he murmured, ‘But you said think. Aren’t you sure, darling?’
Drawing away from him, she looked up into his face and nodded. ‘Pretty sure. All the signs are there, and when I see a doctor I know he’ll confirm it. That’s the reason I’d like to go back to London instead of continuing on to Italy.’
‘Absolutely, darling. You’re right. That’s what we must do. Oh Maddy, this is just marvellous.’
‘Then you’re happy about it?’ Her voice was low.
‘Thrilled.’ He gave her a puzzled glance, frowned. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Of course… I just thought you might think it’s a bit too soon.’
‘To have a son and heir! You must be kidding. I’m elated, angel.’
‘It might be a girl…’
‘Then she’ll be a daughter and heir. Let’s not forget, I’m the grandson of Emma Harte, and she never drew distinctions between men and women when it came to heirs. And neither did my grandfather Paul. He made my mother his heir, you know.’
Madelana nodded, half smiled.
But there was a quietness about her that gave Philip reason to pause for a moment. He studied her, then asked, ‘What’s wrong, darling?’