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‘Because I was physically sick, Brett wouldn’t leave Ryan with me. He said I should rest and not be worried about looking after him. Besides, Ryan might catch whatever bug I had. It was better for him to go away for the weekend with his father and Uncle Damien. Because I couldn’t face admitting the truth, that you were the cause of my problem, I let Ryan go...and I stayed at home.’
‘It was a reasonable decision, Natalie,’ Damien said in a reassuring tone.
‘It was a lie. Don’t you see? We all contributed to what happened. None of us foresaw the consequences of our actions, and we all have guilt to bear. But to say that you were more at fault over Ryan’s death...that simply isn’t true, Damien.’
He searched her eyes with urgent intensity, wanting to believe. ‘After all I’ve told you...you don’t blame me, Natalie?’ he asked in a tensely strained voice.
‘Wasn’t it you who put the ball back in Ryan’s bag?’
‘It took me hours to find it.’ He made a helpless little gesture with his hands. ‘Ryan loved playing with balls. It was all that was left. It was something I could do. It seemed...important at the time. It was the last thing Ryan had...’
His eyes blurred with tears. ‘I’m sorry, Natalie. I wanted...I didn’t know how to make it up to you. All I could do was...find a ball...and concoct a story...to lessen the blow.’
He bowed his head, shaking it in hopeless anguish. ‘At the funeral, Anne wasn’t sobbing because she had lost Brett. Like me, she was overwhelmed by what happened. She didn’t want to be near me, any more than I wanted to be near her. The memory, the unforgettable memory of the consequences of our actions...’
‘But you’ve been in touch since then,’ Natalie said, sure in her own mind that it was no coincidence that Anne Smith had spotted her talent. ‘You knew about my publishing contract before I told you.’
She remembered how she had been going to surprise him with what she had done by her own efforts.
‘Yes, I knew,’ he said heavily.
‘How could you be so sure I’d go to that particular house?’
‘When you asked my advice on what publishers to approach, Anne’s company was head of the list. With the way we both felt, you would have got the contract regardless of what you submitted.’ An ironic smile lightened the strain on his face. ‘As it turned out, you are a top creative talent.’
‘And you are my very good friend.’ Natalie pushed herself out of the chair and went to him, falling on her knees and cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. She hoped they reflected what was in her soul. ‘You did your best for me, Damien. You always did. You’re the best friend any woman could have. Don’t you think I realise that? Appreciate it? And love you for it?’
‘Natalie...’ A wild hope chased the anguish away. His hands swooped to grasp her underarm and lift her with him as he surged to his feet. ‘Natalie, Natalie...’ It was a breath of incredulous wonderment. His arms encircled her and crushed her to him, his mouth pressing hot, urgent kisses over her hair. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. Anything...’
‘I want to make you happy, Damien.’
‘You have. I am.’
‘I have something to tell you.’
His mouth scorched down her neck and shoulders. ‘I love you, Natalie. I love you, and only you, and always will.’
His kissing stopped. His chest heaved against her breasts. He eased his embrace to look into her eyes, anxious not to make a mistake, hopeful that he had understood correctly. ‘I desire you. I long for you. I lust for you.’
‘So do I, for you, Damien.’
His face lit with joy and relief. ‘Everything’s all right.’
Before Natalie could take another breath, he had swung her around and was lowering her on to the sofa, naked desire blazing from his eyes.
‘Damien, you must listen,’ she half-protested, ‘or I’ll never get to tell you.’
‘We’ll be married...soon...’
‘Of course we will.’
He was opening the buttons on her blouse, caressing the soft swell of her breasts, flicking his tongue across her nipples.
‘Damien Chandler, if you don’t stop that...’
‘You’re enjoying it,’ he pleaded.
‘Of course I am. But I want your full attention. I want to see your eyes.’
