“A very arrogant practice, imposing one culture on another.”
“Not a culture. Just a name. The Chinese culture is alive and thriving in Broome.” He slid her a dry look. “I doubt you’d find Vikki critical on that point. She’s quite the queen bee in the Chinese community.”
Being the keeper of the Picard home probably carried a certain status, Christabel thought, and being of a venerable age undoubtedly carried weight. She wasn’t really expecting the bright and shrewd intelligence that came straight at her from the old woman’s eyes when she straightened up from talking to Alicia.
Christabel felt herself blushing. Nothing was escaping those eyes. They had her stripped and logged in detail, with probably a character analysis done, as well. It took staunch discipline to keep walking up the steps to the veranda, her spine automatically stiffening at feeling herself scrutinised so comprehensively.
It reminded Christabel of her first meeting with Bernhard Kruger after she’d married his son.
Was she suitable?
Would she fit into the right mould?
Would she deliver what was required of her?
She’d had no conception of what she was getting into then. But she did here, with Jared’s world, and no matter what she felt with him, the conviction came very strongly that it was wrong to even touch it as she had.
“Vikki Chan...Christabel Valdez,” Jared casually introduced. “And her daughter, Alicia, whose acquaintance you’ve obviously already made.”
The old woman bowed. “An honour to meet you.”
Christabel politely inclined her head. “The honour is mine. It is very kind of you to welcome me.”
Vikki Chan raised a smiling face. “Your daughter tells me she’d like to eat out here so she can watch the storm. I wondered if you would prefer inside.”
“No. This is fine,” Christabel quickly assured her, noting that a table on the veranda had already been set and feeling she didn’t want to go farther into this house. It was easier, staying outside. Easier to leave.
“As you wish. I hope you will enjoy the evening.”
Only one evening, Christabel recited firmly to herself, as she watched the old woman walk back into her domain, Jared’s domain.
Behind her, a clap of thunder boomed with deafening force. It sounded like the crack of doom, warning her she should not have come. But it was only one evening. If she kept her head, no more would come from it.
Having screwed up the necessary willpower, she turned to face Jared...and the storm.
JAGGED streaks of lightning shattered the blackness of the sky, a dramatic force of nature that was awesome, accompanied as it was by the explosion of thunder that rolled on and on. Christabel had never seen such storms in Europe, but she remembered them from her childhood in Brazil, and the flash floods they’d brought, wreaking havoc.
To Alicia, this was like a magic show, and she kept pointing out the highlights, crying excitedly, “Look! Look!” and clapping her hands with glee. “Oh, that was a big one!”
Jared laughed at her, enjoying her delight, while deftly playing the role of host, pouring them drinks, offering around a bowl of mixed nuts and rice crackers. He didn’t bother buttoning his shirt, and Christabel found herself disturbingly distracted by the glimpses of bare chest.
When he handed her a glass of white wine and charmingly asked, “Or would you rather have the fruit juice Vikki made for Alicia?” she took the wine rather than be faced with him serving her another drink, standing close to her, making her too physically aware of him.
Finally he sat down at the table, on the opposite side to where she had settled herself, leaving the chair between them for Alicia, who was happy darting between the table where she helped herself to crackers and juice, and the prime watching position at the top of the veranda steps.
The table was set simply with bamboo placemats, chopsticks placed on little wooden holders, as well as conventional cutlery in case she and Alicia were unskilled with chopsticks. However, the serviettes were of good linen and the glassware fine quality, adding a touch of class to the casual mood Jared was obviously intent on establishing.
He lifted his glass, his eyes brushing over her like dark sensual velvet. “It’s good to have you here.”
She felt her nipples hardening and leant forward defensively, toying with her glass. “You can’t really be lonely, Jared.”
“There are empty places in my life. Aren’t there in yours?”
She shrugged. “I dare say it’s impossible to fill all of them, all the time.”
“Filling some of them, some of the time, would help, don’t you think?”
“Temporary measures?”
“If that’s how it has to be. Better than nothing.”
“Maybe the empty place would feel even bigger afterwards.”
“Who can count on afterwards? I might be dead tomorrow.”
“Not likely,” she dryly retorted.
He glanced out at the storm, still unleashing thunderbolts. “My father died when his plane was struck by lightning, flying into Broome.”
The stark statement came as a shock to Christabel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
His gaze swung back, fastening on hers with compelling intensity. “None of us know the day or the hour, Christabel. I believe people should make the most of the time they have, while they still can.”
Certainly her husband hadn’t expected to die, not before his father. Laurens had been counting on inheriting all the money and all the power, having fulfilled Bernhard’s demand that he marry and beget at least one child. Nevertheless, he had more than made the most of the time he had with every woman he fancied and every bit of fast living he could pack in. It was not an attitude Christabel admired. It carried no caring for others.
She wasn’t aware that her face had tightened over the bitter memories until Jared asked, “What are you thinking?”
She lowered her lashes, veiling her expression as she answered, “My husband died in an accident, too. It was a speedboat crash. Human error. Not caused by a storm.”
She sipped the wine, deliberately discouraging any pursuit of that topic, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. It was a mistake to talk about her marriage, except in the vaguest terms. The speedboat accident had been world news. It was a connection to all she wanted to escape from.
“How long ago did this happen?”
Jared’s tone was sympathetic, stirring a savage irony. She didn’t mourn Laurens. He’d lost his taste for her when she’d turned into an undesirable lump and he’d killed any shred of feeling she’d had for him with his subsequent behaviour.
“I was eight months pregnant with Alicia,” she said flatly, careful not to give an actual date.
He seemed to weigh that statement before slowly commenting, “So Alicia never knew her father.”
“I don’t believe she feels any empty place on that score, Jared,” she replied tersely, her chin lifting in defiant challenge.
“You’re all she needs?” he queried.
“We manage well together.”
“And is she all you need, Christabel?”