Jason said, ‘I think we’d better get off this subject mighty damn sharpish. I’m sure they’ll both be down any minute.’
‘Of course, Jason,’ Daisy was quick to agree. ‘And it really isn’t very nice, talking about them in this way, is it?’
‘No,’ Paula muttered, still feeling disturbed, and wondering why she hadn’t noticed Philip’s behaviour around Madelana, the attention he had supposedly paid to her. Renowned in the family for being eagle-eyed, for never missing a trick, she suddenly asked herself if she was slipping.
Jason strolled over to the console, refilled his glass, and remarked, ‘By the way, Paula, when are you planning to go to Hong Kong?’
‘Not for about ten days or so. It really depends on what I find in Melbourne and Adelaide. Madelana and I are flying down there on Wednesday, once we’ve got the Sydney boutique organized for the sale. But why do you ask, Jason?’
‘One of my executives, Don Metcalfe, has to go over to the crown colony around that time. It occurred to me that you might like a lift on the corporate jet.’
‘Gosh, Jason, that would be wonderful,’ Paula exclaimed, smiling at him. ‘If our dates coincide, of course.’
‘Don can leave any time around the twenty-first, the twenty-second or even the twenty-third of September, whichever suits you, darlin’.’
‘Thanks so much, I’ll let you know.’
‘You never did say why you’re going to Hong Kong, dear,’ Daisy murmured, giving Paula a questioning look.
‘To meet Emily, Mummy. She’s there now, on one of her buying trips for General Retail Trading, and we thought it would be fun to have a few days together, relaxing, doing our Christmas shopping. Then we’ll continue on to New York, spend a day or two there, return to London on the Concorde.’
Daisy smiled somewhat ruefully. ‘I don’t know, Paula, here you are, the head of one of the greatest department stores in the world, and you have to do your shopping in Hong Kong.’ She shook her head, looking a trifle perplexed. ‘It doesn’t make sense to me.’
Paula grinned at her mother. ‘It’s much more fun shopping in foreign places – ’ She cut her sentence off when Madelana appeared in the doorway. ‘There you are, Maddy! I was thinking of sending out a search party,’ Paula teased, her expression affectionate.
In view of the previous discussion, three pairs of alert and curious eyes automatically fastened on Madelana as she glided across the floor with her usual gracefulness, her stylish, elegant and beautifully-cut dress moving with fluidity around her long legs.
‘Forgive me for being so late,’ Madelana apologized. ‘I decided to have a rest earlier, and promptly fell asleep. It must be all the fresh air I’ve had today…and the riding. I haven’t been on a horse in a coon’s age.’
‘Then you’ll feel it tomorrow,’ Jason warned. ‘You’ll have damn sore muscles. Take a very hot bath filled with Epsom salts tonight, that’ll help a bit. I know Mrs Carr has plenty of salts in the kitchen. We’ll get a box or two for you before you go to bed. Now, what can I get you to drink? A glass of champagne?’
‘Thanks, Jason, but I’d prefer a mineral water for the moment,’ Madelana murmured, and joined Paula in front of the fireplace.
Paula eyed Madelana’s cocktail dress. It was a superb piece of clothing, made of cut velvet on silk chiffon, and was a light grey colour that emphasized the silvery lights in her eyes. Paula said, ‘That dress is perfection on you, Maddy. It’s a Trigère, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is, and thank you very much.’ Madelana smiled at her boss. ‘You’re pretty elegant yourself…that’s a Christina Crowther.’
‘Yes, but an old one which I left here a couple of years ago. Still, it’s not a bit dated is it? Like Pauline Trigère’s clothes, Christina’s have a wonderful timelessness.’
Daisy was smiling approvingly at Madelana. ‘Paula just took the words right out of my mouth, Maddy, you do look particularly lovely tonight.’ Patting the sofa, she added, ‘Come, sit next to me, dear.’
Madelana did so, and the two of them immediately fell into a conversation about clothes, and the merits of various fashion designers in New York, Paris and London.
Paula continued to hover in front of the fire, only half listening to Daisy and Maddy. She had the distinct feeling that her mother would encourage Philip in his pursuit of Madelana, if indeed he was interested, despite Daisy’s promise to her to the contrary. Her mother was desperate for him to get married, and it was patently obvious she thought Madelana was the perfect candidate for daughter-in-law.
Jason brought Madelana a Perrier water, carrying the champagne bottle in his other hand. He topped up Paula’s glass, then Daisy’s, and as he walked back to the console, he said over his shoulder, ‘Philip’s late coming down, Paula. I hope everything’s all right on the station. That wind is damn strong, more like a gale, if you ask me.’
Paula said, ‘I’m sure there’s nothing wrong, Jason. Oh, here he comes now.’
Philip sauntered into the living room a split second later, looking nonchalant, without a care. He apologized for being late, adding, ‘Tim Willen kept me on the phone longer than I expected.’
‘Any problems with the weather?’ Jason asked.
‘None at all,’ Philip assured him. ‘And how about fixing your old cobber a scotch on the rocks, since you’re standing right next to the bottle, Jason?’
Chapter 19
The cautionary voice inside his head had warned Philip to go slow with Madelana. But on this Wednesday night, ten days after meeting her at Dunoon, he was asking himself if he had perhaps gone too slowly.
He walked across the living room of his penthouse atop the McGill Tower and stood looking out of the window absently, for once not seeing the magnificent view of the harbour which he so loved. He was thoroughly preoccupied with his interior meanderings.
Instinctively, he had known not to rush Madelana, had recognized that he had his reputation as a womanizer to overcome with her. If she had thought she was merely going to be another notch on his belt, she would have undoubtedly fled from him. But she was rarely if ever out of his thoughts. He was obsessed with her, and his longing to know her more intimately had created the most enormous tension within him; there had been times lately when he had felt as though he was about to explode.
I should have made my moves before, he thought dismally, regretting the way he had delayed, acknowledging that time was running out on him. She would be leaving soon for the States. On the other hand, even if he had decided to go more quickly with her, it would have been difficult to do so with Paula around.
His sister had become Madelana’s self-appointed chaperone during the weekend at Dunoon. She had not left them alone for one minute on the Sunday. Wherever they went, she went too, and then she had spirited Madelana off to Melbourne and Adelaide for most of the following week, and the two of them had not returned to Sydney until Friday evening.
In their absence, he had hit on the idea of showing Madelana the sights of Sydney, thinking that at least he would get to know her better, if not more intimately. But Paula had accompanied them on their jaunts around the city, and, whilst it had been fun, it had not been what he had originally planned. Although seduction had not been his intent, he had thought a bit of mild flirting would enable him to test the waters. But once they were a threesome this was impossible.
A wry smile touched Philip’s mouth as he reflected on the past few days. Just as Paula had striven hard never to leave them alone together, so his mother had done everything in her power to push him towards Madelana. Without appearing to do so, of course. But he had seen through Daisy’s discreet little ploys. Sadly, none of them had worked, because of Paula’s vigilance.
Finally, his sister had left this morning for Hong Kong.
He had driven her to the airport himself, and on the way there he had told her that he intended to invite Madelana out for dinner that evening.
‘Yes, I suspected you would,’ Paula had said. There had bee
n a small silence between them, before he had exclaimed, ‘She’s twenty-seven, Paula, and a grown woman. Not to mention extremely intelligent, and quite capable of making her own decisions. You shouldn’t have done her thinking for her, nor should you have interfered…you haven’t been fair to me, or to her. And that’s so unlike you, darling.’
At once, his sister had apologized, had admitted that he was absolutely right, and she had tried to explain her protectiveness. ‘I care about Madelana,’ Paula had said. ‘She’s one of the most special women I’ve ever met, and I couldn’t bear it if you, of all people, did anything to cause her grief.’ She had then gone on to tell him something about Madelana’s past, the tragedies that had befallen her family, her dreadful losses, and he had been profoundly touched. He had promised Paula he would do nothing to hurt her assistant, and he intended to keep his promise.
Philip glanced down at his watch. It was seven-forty and time to go. Turning away from the floor-to-ceiling window, he hurried across the huge, modern living room decorated entirely in shades of white and cream, and went on through the marble foyer at the same rapid pace. He was going to be alone with Madelana at last and he could not wait to get to her.
As he rode down in his private elevator, it suddenly struck him that he had no idea whether Madelana was interested in him or not. Her behaviour had not revealed her thoughts or her feelings; her calm grey eyes had told him nothing. In fact, the only certain thing was the way he felt about her. It was quite possible that she would consider his overtures repugnant and so reject him.
The same wry smile flickered in the cool blue eyes. He would soon find out exactly where he stood with her…if anywhere at all.
Madelana’s suite at the Sydney-O’Neill was on the thirtieth floor of the hotel. It covered a corner of the building, and the L-shaped expanse of windows in the sitting room offered panoramic vistas.
She stood at one of the windows, looking out towards the Opera House on Bennelong Point and the Sydney Harbour Bridge beyond. It was almost eight o’clock, and the night sky was aglow with stars and the myriad lights of the city.
The spectacular view was familiar to her by now, and she was beginning to feel at home here, had become enamoured of Sydney and its people. She had quickly discovered she liked the Australians, who were down to earth, open, friendly, and she had come to understand, through Philip, that their sardonic humour was simply an insurance against pomposity and pretentiousness. ‘It goes way back, to the early settlers, the Cockneys in particular,’ he had explained.
Walking over to the sofa, Madelana sat down. Spread out on the coffee table were the photographs which had been taken last weekend on their sightseeing tour of the city. She began to sort through them, selecting the best for the album she had bought that afternoon.
Memories of the weekend brought a smile to her face. Here was one of Paula and herself at Taronga Park Zoo. They were standing next to a kangaroo with a joey in its pouch, and again it struck her how much the roo reminded her of a deer with its narrow, sensitive face and tender, soulful eyes. She had not realized they were such gentle animals until her visit to the zoo on Saturday morning. The photo was good and she put it on one side to include in the album later.
Picking up a shot of Philip and Paula, which she had taken in the rainforest aviary at Taronga, she marvelled again at the jewel-coloured parrots and other brilliant, exotic birds shown in the background. This was another must for the album. Next she reached for the small stack of pictures taken on Philip’s boat, the Saraband. He owned two yachts. The one called Dunoon, after the sheep station, was used solely for racing; the Saraband was for cruising and entertaining. Magnificently decorated and appointed, it slept six, and had a permanent crew.
To Madelana, Sunday had been the best day of the weekend. Certainly she had revelled in their jaunt up the coastline, past Philip’s house at Point Piper, and Daisy’s and Jason’s at Rose Bay. Loving the sea as much as she did, the excursion on the water had been wonderful for her. Deciding that the yachting trip should take pride of place in the album, she selected a handful of snaps of the three of them on board the Saraband, and fanned them out in front of her.
A shot of Philip caught her eye, and she picked it up, studied it for a moment.
Paula had not told her very much about him before they had left New York, and what little she did know had been gleaned from various magazines, where she had also seen pictures of him from time to time. Now, staring at the snap in her hand, she realized that nothing could have prepared her for Philip McGill Amory. His presence overwhelmed her. There was something about him, something within him, that reached out to her, moved her in a way she had never been moved before by any other human being. Her reaction to him had been intense from the first moment she had set eyes on him at Dunoon. She felt unsteady when she was with him, and breathless, almost as if she had been punched in the stomach.
Peering closer at the picture, she could not help thinking how debonair and dashing he looked, standing there on the deck of the beautiful Saraband. His sailing whites emphasized his tan, his vivid colouring. It had been windy on Sunday, and his black hair was ruffled, his laughing blue eyes screwed up against the glare of brilliant sunlight and glittering sea. How irresistible he seemed.
She was most powerfully drawn to him, and this disturbed and worried her for a number of reasons. He was her boss’s brother, but quite aside from this, he was hardly likely to be interested in her. He was immensely powerful, immensely rich, and devastatingly attractive, and therefore he could have any woman in the world he wanted. His reputation as a playboy only verified this as a fact. A career girl like herself, who was not a member of the international social circles he moved in, was hardly a candidate for one of his romantic interludes. Nor did she care to be. The last thing she wanted was a quick fling. She was not cut out for one-night stands or brief encounters. No, Philip McGill Amory was not the kind of man a woman like her should ever become involved with. He was too dangerous, guaranteed to wreak havoc and heartbreak.
I don’t need any more problems with beautiful, difficult men, she thought, remembering her recent experiences with Jack Miller. Her career was her priority now. And in any case, she would be leaving Sydney in ten days, and that would be that. She and Paula had fortunately found a manager for the boutique yesterday. The young woman met all of Paula’s requirements, and had already started working on a week’s trial. Providing all went well, she would soon be winging her way back to New York…far, far away from Mr Amory.
The telephone on the writing desk shrilled and she went to answer it. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Philip,’ he said, ‘I’m in the lobby.’
‘I’ll be right down,’ she said, and replaced the receiver. Picking up her bag, her silk shawl, and the doorkey, she left the suite.
Going down in the elevator, she wondered what the evening would be like. She had accepted his invitation against her better judgement, and only because he had been so charming and gracious, just a little bit insistent on the phone that morning. Also, being who he was, she had not wanted to offend him. But this was the first time she was going to be alone with him since they had gone riding at the sheep station, and sudden nervousness invaded her.
She saw him the moment she stepped out of the elevator.
He wore a dark-blue blazer, a pale-blue shirt and tie, and grey slacks. He dominated the lobby with his height and his arresting looks, his inbred self-confidence, and his commanding air of authority.
When he saw her he raised a hand in greeting, and strode towards her.
She instantly tensed up in the way she had when she had met him in the portrait gallery, and she almost missed a step as she walked across the marble floor. Then she took hold of herself, and pushed a bright smile onto her face, and as they came together in the middle of the lobby, she extended her hand, still smiling.
Philip took it, gave it a small squeeze, instantly released it. Looking down at her, he returned her smile, and said, ‘It??
?s nice to see you, Madelana, you look lovely, as usual.’ He glanced approvingly at her full, black wool skirt and the tailored, white silk shirt.
‘Thank you. You did say to dress simply.’
‘Yes,’ he murmured, escorting her across the lobby, then explained, ‘I’ve booked a table at Doyle’s…it’s a fish restaurant on the beach. Very casual, lots of fun, and they have the best fish and chips in Sydney, not to mention the most wonderful view of the city skyline from there.’
‘It sounds terrific.’
They went out into the street. His wine-coloured Rolls-Royce was parked immediately in front of the hotel, and after helping her inside, Philip strode around to the driver’s side, got in, turned on the ignition, and pulled away from the kerb.
‘Doyle’s is out at Watson’s Bay,’ he informed her. ‘It’ll take us about half an hour. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the music.’ As he spoke he turned on the tape in the dashboard and the voice of Mel Tormé singing Moonlight in Vermont filled the interior of the car.
Madelana tried to do as he suggested, not even attempting to make conversation. She could think of nothing to say to him. Unexpected panic choked her, made her throat dry. She did not know how she would manage to get through the evening. Sitting here next to him, in such close proximity, she was filled with some awful kind of terror, and she fervently wished she had not accepted his invitation.
‘Relax,’ he said, as if reading her mind.
She looked at him through the corner of her eye, and laughed nervously.
‘I am relaxed.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
She was silent. She bit her inner lip.
Now it was his turn to laugh, and he sounded as nervous as she had.