hide of him!” her father fumed, high colour mottling his cheeks. This was his first taste of Nicholas Konrads’ power, and the terrible loss of his own.
“We did grow up together, Father,” Suzannah said in a quiet nostalgic voice. “Nick always did have a compassionate heart. I believe he’s truly sorry about Martin.”
“Bah, they were never friends,” Marcus Sheffield scoffed.
“That all had to do with me,” she said, assuming the blame and the guilt. “Then you played your part.” It was the first time she had ventured to say it.
“Everything I did was to protect you,” Marcus Sheffield pronounced stoutly.
Suzannah couldn’t answer, a cascade of tears fell down her heart choking her. Her father was speaking the truth as he saw it, a truth that had blown her life apart. Because of her father, his powerful influence and her unquestioning belief in his integrity, she had become more deeply entwined with Martin, then a short time after the furore of Nick’s disgrace and departure had abated, married him in the same church from whence he had been buried.
Demons would pursue her all her life. Memories. The pain and the bitter betrayal in Nick’s brilliant eyes. The agony in his mother’s. The triumph in Martin’s and her father’s. They had won. In their way they had kept her a prisoner while Nick was shipped off with his long-suffering mother.
Suzannah wondered how she could ever have believed, even for one wavering moment, that Nick was a thief. Nick the hero of her girlhood. Wonderful, sweet, kind with the magic and power of a white knight. How had she ever allowed her father and Frank Harris to convince her he had stolen anything from the safe? So he knew the combination? He had been with her when she put her good pearls away. Nick noticed everything. Money had been very tight in the Konrads’ household, never more than after Nick’s father had died. Mrs. Konrads, not a strong woman after experiences she would never talk about, had had to work too hard, taking domestic jobs in the homes of the wealthy to help out. Nick had adored his mother. He could scarcely contain his anxieties about her, longing for the day when he could support her properly. The day that never came.
Suzannah’s own anguish was permanent and deep. People were following. There was to be the ritual gathering at the house. Nearing the car, an old but beautifully maintained navy Rolls, they saw Nick drive away. In the passenger seat, looking out with intense interest was a very good-looking woman with short bright chestnut hair, fine regular features, designer sunglasses perched on her nose. Just a few seconds, yet Suzannah caught the flare of her nostrils, the intensity of the stare that was directed solely at her.
Nick’s wife? She had read about him in the newspapers from time to time, seen pictures of him and various glamorous women companions in society magazines, but she had never read a word about his getting married. Not that that meant anything. Nick always had been a very private person.
Who could not fall in love with him?
Sadness seeped into her steadily. Her early womanhood had been swept away. She had bowed to intense pressure. She had bowed to a concerted barrage of lies. She had lost Nick and deserved to. She had lost Martin who had asked for nothing but the love she couldn’t give him. Charlotte was the only one to call her back to Bellemont. Her adorable dark-haired little daughter. So much like her. Except for the eyes.
Inside the Mercedes, Adrienne made a big effort to keep an uncontrollable spurt of jealousy out of her voice. “Who are these people, Nick? Did you know them well?” She took off her sunglasses, and turned her spectacular amber eyes in his direction. Things weren’t going half as well as she had hoped with Nick Konrads. They always had a good time. He appeared to enjoy her company—she knew there wasn’t anyone else—but in the end their relationship wasn’t flowering. She was desperately in love with him. Had been in love with him from the moment she laid eyes on him for that matter. He was simply extraordinary, but so complex even now she didn’t feel she knew the least thing about him. She did know however he wasn’t in love with her. She wasn’t such a fool she didn’t realise that. But they communicated very well on the sexual and social level. She and a woman partner ran their own successful public relations firm. Nick admired hardworking successful people. God knows he was the man of the moment. Businessman of the Year.
Who was that young woman he was speaking to? Although they stood a couple of feet apart, it seemed to Adrienne’s tormented eyes their bodies were almost straining towards each other. Surely an illusion? The shimmering, dancing light of the sun.
Nick took his time answering, aware of Adrienne’s powerful curiosity, the jealousy that shone in her eyes. “We all knew one another when we were growing up. Martin White, it was his funeral, was my age. His widow, Suzannah, was a friend of mine.”
“Suzannah? The woman you were talking to?” She had always felt there was someone in the background. Some shadowy figure.
“Suzannah Sheffield, that was.”
She took a moment to digest this. “Sheffield? Isn’t there a historic homestead around here someplace? Used to run sheep, then turned into a horse breeding establishment when wool took a dive? The name of the place is on the tip of my tongue.” She resisted the impulse to crease her forehead.
“Bellemont Farm,” he supplied quietly.
“Yes, of course.” Adrienne suddenly hated the slender young woman in her widow’s weeds. “Didn’t I see somewhere it’s on the market? I take all the usual magazines.”
“I believe it is,” he answered casually, curiously unwilling to take her into his confidence. “We can skirt the property if you like. Impossible to see the house from any of the roads. It’s a long drive from the front gate and the house is nestled in a grove of jacaranda trees. It’s a glorious sight when the great trees are in flower.”
“Sounds like you knew the place well?” Adrienne flashed a glance at his handsome profile.
“Every inch of it. Suzannah used to take me over it when her father was away on his polo weekends.”
Something in his voice gave off shivery little sparks.
“That sounds like you weren’t allowed there when he was?”
“You’re so right.” His tone held the weight of dislike. “Marcus Sheffield was and remains the biggest snob in the world.”
“And Mrs. Sheffield?” Nick could twist any woman around his little finger.
“She ran off when Suzannah was barely four,” he told her. “One of Sheffield’s opponents on the polo field, would you believe? They went to live in South America. There was no question of her getting custody of Suzannah. Marcus Sheffield was establishment. A very powerful and monied figure. He adored Suzannah. His only child. He was very bitter about his wife. Her name was never permitted to be mentioned.”
“That must have been terribly hard on your Suzannah,” she said a little harshly.
He did glance at her then. A penetrating look. “Her father never gave her time to miss her mother too much. He doted on her. Couldn’t bear her out of his sight. For that matter Suzannah was devoted to him. She was too young to see he ruled her life.”
Adrienne tried to give a little understanding laugh; she did not succeed. Suddenly she was afraid she couldn’t hold onto Nick Konrads much longer. She had felt that way, she now realised, as soon as she laid eyes on this Suzannah. Nick was better than anyone she knew
