The Constantin Marriage Page 4

  ‘Just do as I say, Mrs Constantin,’ he recommended, and pulled a small gun from the pocket of his jacket.

  Her eyes dilated and her heart leapt into her throat. ‘What on earth—’ she began.

  ‘Come with me nice and quiet so I don’t have to use this, which I will if I have to.’

  ‘I…I…’ But as she stammered and felt like fainting he took her elbow in a hard grasp and began to lead her towards a battered utility parked two spots away from the Golf.

  She stumbled and tried to pull her elbow free but he growled an obscenity into her ear. She sucked some air into her lungs and opened her mouth to scream, but she felt the gun poke into her waist—and nothing came out of her mouth. Then all hell broke loose.

  A car screeched to a halt in the middle of the road only a few feet from them—a blue Jaguar—and Alex jumped out without bothering to switch off the engine.

  Her attacker immediately pulled her in front of him and swore viciously but Tattie buckled at the knees, wrenched her elbow free and threw herself sideways. Alex leapt on the man and punched him to the ground in a hail of devastating blows.

  Tattie got to her knees as they rolled away from her, saw the gun on the ground and fell on it, but her assailant was no match for Alex—he was being mercilessly subdued in a show of brute strength that made Tattie blink. Then there were sirens and police swarming around them. Finally Alex, still breathing heavily, was helping her to her feet.

  ‘What…? I don’t understand… Oh, you’re bleeding!’

  ‘It’s nothing, Tattie. Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, but…why…what?’ she gasped.

  He held her close for a moment then said gently, ‘Come, I’ll explain when we get home.’

  Three policeman had accompanied them and now listened intently to Alex’s explanation.

  ‘When I got home today I noticed this invitation on the hall table.’ He lifted Amy’s colourful little card. ‘But it so happens I ran into Amy Goodall at the airport this morning and we had a bit of a chat. I was on my way home from Broome, she was on her way to Sydney, so it made no sense that she would be inviting my wife to lunch today. I also noticed that the invitation had been hand-delivered.’ He proffered the envelope. ‘And it occurred to me that someone might have deliberately lured my wife out on a false pretext.’

  Tattie made a strange little sound of disbelief.

  ‘And that’s when you rang us,’ the detective in charge murmured. ‘Only you got there before us. Mrs Constantin, did you recognise the man at all?’

  ‘No! I’ve never seen him before.’

  ‘Did you find this invitation at all strange?’

  Tattie shrugged. ‘I wondered why she hadn’t rung, that’s all. But she is that kind of person, prone to springing surprises.’

  ‘So it would be fair to say the gentleman we’ve taken into custody must be aware of Miss Goodall’s quirks. How well do you know her, incidentally, Mrs Constantin?’

  Tattie told him.

  ‘And you don’t think she could have had anything to do with this?’

  ‘Good heavens, no! Anyway, she’s on her way down south.’

  ‘Yes,’ the detective said thoughtfully, and looked at Alex. ‘The obvious thing that springs to mind is kidnapping for ransom.’

  Tattie gasped, and if she hadn’t already been sitting down would have collapsed.

  Alex said then, ‘I think my wife has had enough for the moment.’

  As soon as the police had left, Tattie said one of the sillier things she’d ever said as she looked at Alex wide-eyed and still stunned.

  ‘Why would anyone want to kidnap me?’

  He came to sit down beside her. There was a darkening bruise on his cheek, his shirt was torn, his knuckles grazed, but the cut on his arm had stopped bleeding. For that matter, her lovely white dress was stained, her knees were grazed, her scrunchie was hanging by a thread of hair and her face was dirty.

  He half smiled and gently removed the scrunchie. ‘Why? I have rather a lot of money, Tattie.’

  She swallowed. ‘Thank heavens you came home and saw the invitation. Thank heavens you bumped into Amy! I didn’t know what to do. Part of me was thinking, surely he wouldn’t shoot me in broad daylight in the middle of Parap, but the other half couldn’t be sure. It…I…’

  ‘Tattie.’ He took her in his arms. ‘I can imagine. And if it’s any consolation I doubt whether he would have shot you in the middle of Parap, but he’s safely under lock and key now.’

  ‘Maybe there are more of them!’ She shivered in his arms.

  ‘I doubt that too.’ He stroked her hair. ‘I suspect he was a loner and it wasn’t a very well-thought-out plot.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she conceded, but couldn’t stop shivering.

  ‘Hey,’ he said quietly, ‘it’s over. I’m here.’ And he kissed her.

  As an antidote to extreme nervous tension, it worked well. The shivering started to subside as his mouth closed on hers, and the incredible events that had befallen her gave way to something else.

  How good it felt to be in his arms, how safe—and how ruthless he’d been in her defence, as if she meant an awful lot to him. Then even those thoughts receded and sensations began to take their place. She no longer noticed that she was in a mess. She began to be aware of herself on a different plane altogether, very much as a woman with all the needs and desires of one, most of which he was attending to with his hands and his lips.

  He stroked her arms with his long fingers and she shivered quite differently, with delight. He kissed her lightly, then those cool, firm lips sought the soft hollows at the base of her throat while his wandering fingers combed through her hair. But not only was it what he was doing to her, it was the feel of his strong, hard body against hers that filled her with a lovely, special feeling of excitement.

  Then he started to kiss her more deeply and she responded, shyly at first, then more and more freely. They drew apart once and she stared at him, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of the sexy side of Alex Constantin as she’d never been before. The mouth-watering masculinity of his wide shoulders and lean hips, the planes of his face, and what being under the gaze of his faintly amused eyes did to her.

  It was one thing to be sitting beside him in a car and feel his presence like a body blow, she realised. It was one thing to have been kissed by him during their engagement—most chastely, she now realised. It was entirely another thing to have him focused squarely on her and kissing her with all that latent sexiness very much unleashed. Oh, yes, she thought a little wildly, this was another matter altogether.

  ‘This’ brought out the strangest thoughts in her. How glad, for example, she was to be wearing a minuscule but very fetching pair of white lace bikini briefs and a matching bra. How her skin would feel against the cream textured velvet of the couch when he undressed her; how hot, erotic and sexy she felt herself, so that the couch, the carpet, anywhere would be OK for him to make love to her, because she might die a little if he didn’t…

  Then he slid his hand beneath the hem of her dress and stroked her thigh, and she made absolutely no protests of any kind—and the phone rang.

  She thought he swore under his breath. She thought she made a husky little sound of sheer frustration, but in the next moment he’d released her and she was sitting very properly, with her hem tucked around her legs, while he went to answer the phone and the door.

  ‘The police,’ he said, coming back to her with his lips twisting to see she hadn’t moved a muscle. ‘I need to go down to the station but you don’t have to come. And you don’t have to worry about being alone. The apartment has been put under surveillance just to be on the safe side.’

  Tattie licked her lips but found herself with nothing to say.

  ‘Why don’t you have a long shower and a rest?’ he suggested. ‘Or would you like me to call your mother or my mother?’

  ‘No! Uh…no, thank you.’ She tried to smile. ‘I’d rather not be fussed over at the mome
nt.’

  ‘Tattie.’ He sat down beside her and put his arms loosely around her. ‘You look as if you’ve been in an earthquake, and I don’t mean physically, although there’s that too. But the fact that we both enjoyed that very much has got to help in our marriage, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Her lips parted but again no sound came.

  ‘Anyway—’ he smiled faintly ‘—think about it. I’ll be as quick as I can. And I am going to call your mother and my parents—we can’t leave them to hear about it on the radio and I don’t think you should be alone.’

  He waited until George, Irina and Natalie arrived. It didn’t take long for them to rush over. He suffered their concern—his mother thought he might need stitches in his arm—and admiration with a wry little smile.

  And for a time after he’d gone Tattie was glad not to be alone. So she let them ply her with tea and cake and generally fuss over her, especially her mother, who kept folding Tattie in her arms. And she went through it all again with them, unaware of how her eyes shone as she described how magnificent Alex had been in her defence.

  But all of a sudden she knew she had to be alone, and she told them she was going to have a sleep. It took some determination to persuade them—again, especially her mother—that she would be fine, but finally they left.

  She took a bubble bath in the huge, raised marble bath that was fashioned in the shape of a shell in her en suite bathroom. The marble was champagne-coloured and all the towels, the soap and bottles were a soft jade-green. It was normally a most relaxing place but, even smothered in bubbles to her chin and with two fragrant candles burning as she soaked away the unusual events of the day, she felt far from relaxed.

  Really, she thought, it was too much to be almost kidnapped then subjected to her husband at his dangerously sexy best—a first for her—all in the space of a few hours!

  Was it any wonder she couldn’t think straight?

  And was this why Leonie Falconer was determined to get Alex back? Because his dangerously sexy best was irresistible?

  She looked at the pads of her fingers and discovered they were wrinkled. So she got out of the bath before she resembled a prune all over, but her thoughts continued like a string of pearls with synergy—one set of thoughts leading smoothly to the next. No, not smoothly, she contradicted herself, not synergy at all, really, but jumping about like fleas, with all sorts of possibilities for this turn of events presenting themselves…

  How long had Alex deliberately deprived himself of his mistress, and did that have anything to do with him needing not necessarily her but any woman?

  She would have to put it to him, she felt, although she quailed inwardly at the prospect. Because it was all very well to take these developments at face value, but what protection did that offer her against spending the rest of her life in love with him while he had a series of mistresses once he’d secured her, heirs for the dynasty and, of course, two cattle stations?

  She dressed in a long fuchsia skirt, to hide her grazed knees, and a pale rose silky knit top. And, because she didn’t have anything else to do, she started to prepare dinner. It was a beautiful evening with the sun setting over Mandorah, so she set the glass table on the veranda—a yellow candle in a glass, frosted yellow wine glasses, and white Rosenthal china with ice-blue place mats and napkins. And her stir-fry beef with oriental rice and a salad was just about ready as Alex came home.

  He looked her over, and the meal, forked some of the stir-fry from the pan, told her it was delicious and that if she could give him five minutes for a shower he’d really appreciate it.

  ‘Of course! Take as long as you like; I can keep this warm—’

  ‘Five minutes, Tattie,’ he murmured, and kissed her lightly on his way past.

  She leant back against the counter and swallowed, because it was all happening to her again: the accelerated pulse, the ragged breathing, patches of dew on her forehead and the deep inner trembling even though his lean body had barely brushed hers. In fact she had to go outside and sit at the table to compose herself.

  He brought the meal out and opened a bottle of wine. He’d changed into fresh jeans and a white shirt.

  ‘So?’ she said, having fought a stern fight with herself and told herself not to be such a wimp. ‘Have they found out who he is and why he did it?’

  Alex poured some golden-green liquid into the frosted glasses, then propped the bottle in a wine cooler. ‘Yep. He went to water. He was an employee of mine, although we’d never met—a diver. He got sacked for drinking. Then he met Amy Goodall at a party, she let slip that she knew you, so he—cultivated her, you might say. They had a brief affair, but long enough for him to discover how wacky she could be and how that could be used to further his obsession with revenge against me for his sacking.’

  ‘And Amy has confirmed all this?’ Tattie asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘Amy has told the Sydney police that she did have an affair with him, but she had no idea how he was using her.’

  Tattie sat back. ‘Does this mean,’ she asked with a frown, and sipped her wine, ‘I’ll have to be on guard against this for the rest of my life?’

  Alex lifted the covers from the stir-fry and the rice and inhaled the fragrant steam. ‘If you stay married to me, Tattie, we will need to take precautions, but that could be the least of our problems. Will I dish up?’

  She nodded dazedly after a moment. ‘What do you mean?’

  He wielded the stainless-steel serving spoons and handed her a plate. ‘If you stay married to me I’ll be able to put all the necessary precautions in place. If you don’t, you’ll still be Tatiana Constantin.’

  ‘Only on my own…oh!’

  ‘Mmm,’ he agreed. ‘But that is certainly not the only reason for you to overcome your reservations about this marriage.’ He sat down. ‘And don’t tell me there aren’t some.’

  ‘How…how did you know?’

  A corner of his mouth quirked and the look he sent her was full of irony. ‘Tattie, in some respects I have to admit you’re a closed book. But when you’re concerned or undecided about something I can tell.’ He paused and contemplated his meal, then raised his dark eyes to her with a glint of sheer devilry. ‘Although that wasn’t altogether the case just before the phone rang.’

  A slow tide of colour burnt its way up Tattie’s throat and stained her cheeks, but she wasn’t a Beaufort for nothing. ‘How long is it since you’ve had a woman, Alex?’

  ‘Ah. A Beaufort counter-attack, I take it?’ He laughed softly. ‘I never did meet your father but I’ve heard he was a hard man. I wonder if he realised you inherited some of his famed…quickness on the draw?’

  ‘Perhaps he did,’ she said evenly. ‘Perhaps that’s why he left me Beaufort and Carnarvon. But I have to tell you, Alex, that, while I may have got a little…carried away before the phone rang, it doesn’t stop me from pondering your motives. Out with your mistress; in with your wife—why?’

  ‘I’ll tell you, Tattie,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Leonie became obsessed with replacing you as my wife, despite the provenance of our relationship, which was to begin with, and before I ever met you, that she had no desire to marry anyone.’

  Tattie absorbed this. ‘And…and you didn’t threaten her with taking all the Constantin business away from her?’

  ‘Yes, I did. In fact, I have now done so.’

  ‘W-why?’ Tattie stammered.

  He looked at her meditatively. ‘She shouldn’t have come to our anniversary party.’

  ‘Isn’t that a little…hard and unfair?’ Tattie postulated.

  ‘Are you taking her side?’ he countered. ‘Could there have been any reason for her to come other than to make mischief?’

  ‘Of course I’m not taking her side, but she might not have known I knew about her!’

  That silenced him for a moment, then, ‘How did you come to know about her, Tattie?’

  Tattie ate the last of her rice and pushed her plate away. ‘I have a friend who worked f
or her. She…thought she was doing me a good turn.’

  ‘I see. And did your friend tell you the whole story?’

  Tattie lifted her blue gaze to his. ‘I thought so—are you going to tell me she wasn’t your mistress?’

  ‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘But she was not my mistress at the time of our marriage.’

  Tattie’s mouth fell open.

  ‘Quite so,’ he said with a tinge of mockery.

  ‘So what…what…? How…?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in the hope that we can put Leonie behind us once and for all, Tatiana,’ he murmured.

  But he got up and cleared their plates first, poured them some more wine and studied the darkening waters of Darwin Harbour—which, as the locals were so fond of pointing out, was bigger than Sydney Harbour.

  ‘When Leonie set up shop in Darwin a couple of years ago I was impressed by her skills and ideas. One thing led to another and we got into a relationship, but on the basis that we both,’ he said significantly, ‘had no wish for any further entanglement. She was passionate about her career and couldn’t visualise herself as a wife and mother. Then, not long after our engagement, she decided to go back to America for some time and we parted.’

  Tattie stared at him, wide-eyed.

  ‘She didn’t close her business but handed the reins to her chief assistant,’ he continued. ‘When she came back you and I were married, but she got in touch—ostensibly to show me some of the work she’d done overseas and the ideas she’d picked up. They were brilliant, and once more she started to work for Constantin as a freelance designer. However…’ He paused and looked at her. ‘Well, you know the state of our marriage, Tattie.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me this when I…when I—?’

  ‘Delivered yourself of your ultimatums on our wedding night?’ he drawled, and smiled faintly. ‘I thought you had a point. I thought it would be less than right to force myself on you and I guess it seemed like a good idea to keep my options open. You did also give me your blessing.’