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'So people keep telling me.'
'Add me to the list!' he snarled, and hung up.
Celeste stared down into the dead receiver. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she hung up herself, then lifted the receiver up again and dialed for a taxi to take her home.
CHAPTER NINE
Damian opened the front door before Celeste could get her key out.
'Hi there, sis. I'm home.'
'So I see,' came her dry reply. 'I take it you're not alone?'
'Hey, why the attitude? You're the one who suggested I bring Gemma here.'
Celeste sighed. 'Maybe I've changed my mind.'
'Too late for that. When you meet her, you'll be glad. I did. She's a sweetie. That's what worries me.'
Damian laughed. 'I've been a perfect gentleman.'
'But for how long?'
Damian pulled a face at her, then took her hand and pulled her along to the main living-room where Mrs Nathan Whitmore was curled up in an armchair looking so forlorn that Celeste's heart went out to her.
'Celeste's home at last,' Damian said as they moved into the room.
Gemma jumped, her legs shooting out from under her.
'Don't get up,' Celeste told her, which brought a look of surprise.
Is it my ultra-conservative clothes, Celeste wondered, that are making her look at me with those startled doe eyes of hers?
Celeste conceded that with a smart business suit on and her hair up she was a far cry from the outrageously dressed siren who'd attended the Whitmore Opals ball. No doubt this girl thought her as disgraceful a person as her husband did. Not that Nathan could condemn anyone for their morals, or seeming lack of them.
'And how are you bearing up, my dear?' Celeste asked gently. 'I take it things have been a bit difficult for you lately.'
'I. .. Yes ... You could say that.'
'Please feel free to stay as long as you like. We have plenty of room here.'
'You're most kind,' the girl murmured. 'Your brother's been very kind too. I. . .I don't know what I would have done without him.'
Celeste settled herself in a chair opposite. 'Yes, Damian is not all bad, despite his reputation.'
Now the girl looked even more startled, with Damian quickly coming to his own defence.
'With you for a sister, who needs enemies?' he mocked. 'Don't believe a word she says, Gemma. I'm a saint in wolf's clothing.' He came forward to perch on the arm of her chair, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Gemma looked up at him with a slightly nervous smile, Celeste frowning as she took in how very lovely this child was. Those large velvet-brown eyes were captivating enough, but combined with that flawless olive skin, that sensual mouth and that gloriously thick dark brown hair, she was a stunner. Her attractions did not stop at her face, either. There was no hiding the lush fullness of her breasts beneath that soft green cashmere sweater, the slim line tan trousers she was wearing just as revealing of the rest of her shapely figure, including the tiny span of her waist and the swell of her quite womanly hips.
'Not to worry, Gemma,' Celeste said briskly. 'I'll keep him in line. And so will Cora. You've told Cora we have an extra for dinner, Damian?'
He gave her a droll look. 'Of course.'
'Maybe you could make yourself scarce for a minute. I have something to say to Gemma.'
'Such as what?'
'If I wanted to tell you, I wouldn't ask you to leave,' she said drily. 'Perhaps you could go select some wine to go with our meal tonight. Gemma looks as if she could do with some relaxing.'
Damian brightened at this suggestion, which only made Celeste more suspicious of his intentions. 'What a good idea! I'll go haunt the cellar. Do you prefer red or white, Gemma?'
'White, actually. Riesling if you have it. Though Nathan always said that. . .' She broke off, tears immediately flooding her eyes.
Celeste wanted to kill Nathan Whitmore at that moment. What a bastard! Taking this young girl, making her his then utterly destroying her. She knew exactly what that felt like. Byron had made her irrevocably his in two short weeks. This devil had had months of marriage to brainwash this child both emotionally and sexually.
What chance did she have of throwing off his dastardly influence, of ever being normal with any other man? Celeste recognized the type. This girl felt deeply, as she had felt deeply. No other man would ever do for her, just as no other man but Byron had ever done for Celeste. One only had to look at how she'd acted today, running to him when he'd snapped his fingers, giving him all he asked without asking for anything in return.
