The Flyer (24 page)

They left the flat, Paul in the lead with Helen directly behind him. She kept her distance, but hurried him along as though she didn’t trust him to appropriately rid the world of eight-legged invaders.

Once outside, the crowd applauded while Paul used a stick to hold the stocking under the water of a nearby trough.

“You’re going to drown it?” Helen gasped.

“Would you prefer I step on it? Did you see the size of this thing?”

“Ew. Never mind.”

A few minutes later, he allowed the stocking to float to the surface, then tossed the remains to Tim. His friend let it drop to the street and stepped back. “What do you want me to do with it, you cheeky bastard?”

“Burn it. Bury it. How should I know?” Paul answered, laughing. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at Helen. “She was probably alone, but if you’re worried about any of her friends showing up, I’d be happy to spend the night.” He winked.

The onlookers, including Adelaide McIntyre, chuckled knowingly. One bloke yelled, “Too right, Campbell! She’ll need some protecting tonight, won’t she?!”

Helen narrowed her eyes menacingly in the man’s direction, then actually stuck out her tongue. “Go drink more grog, would you? Everything is fine here.”

The crowd laughed, dispersing in groups of three or four as they returned to the pub. Nanara made her way back inside.

Shaking only slightly now that the immediate danger was over, Helen looked up at Paul. “Do you really think there might be more?” she asked, her voice catching and her eyes wide.

“It’s possible. I’m not quite sure how that one came to be here, to tell the truth. Probably stowed away on one of the ships from Queensland.”

“It was horrible.”

“No worries. It’s gone now. If you’d like, I can take a look around the place and make sure you’re not in for any more surprises.”

“You don’t mind?”

Mind? More time with Helen? “Not even a little.”

Paul strolled around the parlor where they’d found the birdeater, lifting picture frames from the wall and peering behind them as he went.

“Was it poisonous?” Helen asked, hitching the belt of her robe, which she’d donned the moment they’d returned to her flat.

“Aye. Quite. Nasty little whankers. But you’re a doc. I’m sure if I’d been bitten, you would have saved me.” He smiled wide. She blushed, shifting in place while she folded her arms in front of her.

“You really shouldn’t be here. It’s not proper.”

“Don’t be silly. Nanara is right down the hall.”

“Perhaps, but still …” she hedged.

“It’s an emergency. Besides, do you always do what’s proper?” He passed her, inhaling the scent of her lilac shampoo. When he reached the hall, she followed him.

He checked the pictures, but found no more spiders in the hall, either.

“I try to.”

He reached Doc’s old bedroom. Her bedroom now. The bed was the same as he remembered, but the quilted coverlet was different. The old dresser held an array of feminine articles on the marble top. Perfumes, a hairbrush, hair wax and pins. A silver-handled comb caught his eye, as well. Nice things. Expensive things.

On one of the dresser’s risers, a silver picture frame displayed the image of an older man. He wore a black suit, a cape, and a top hat, and he carried a silver-topped cane. The man oozed wealth and success.

Helen appeared at his side. “My father. It was taken three years ago at the opera house. He loves the opera.”

Her voice sounded wistful, as though she missed her father a great deal. Yet she’d never spoken of him before. It was more than distance that separated father and daughter. He could tell by the extra something in her voice.

“We’re friends, right?” he queried.

“I think so.” She grinned ruefully. “I don’t have many, so I should probably take them where I can find them.”

“Then tell me why you came here. The real reason.”

Immediately the grin vanished, and a frown took its place. “I can’t.”

She had a way of looking at him that turned the temperature in a room down a fair number of degrees. She employed it now, her eyes so sad she looked ready to cry. “Something is wrong. Anyone who knows you can see it.”

“It’s my problem.”

“Problems are better shared, in my experience. Now, here you are, a beautiful young woman with a bright future. You’ve completed medical school, you have money and opportunity, yet you travel halfway around the world to treat insect bites and play midwife. What gives?”

She sat on the edge of the bed, the tears behind her eyes shimmering. She didn’t cry. He suspected she wouldn’t in front of him if she could help it. Last night at Castle-Winters, he’d caught her by surprise.

“I embarrassed them. My mother and father. They sacrificed so much so I could become a doctor, and I took their faith and their love and betrayed them.”

“Rubbish, love. I can’t see you doing something like that.”

“It’s not rubbish. I did something unforgivable, and rather than subject them to the pain and humiliation that would come every time they were seen with me, I chose to leave. Thank heavens for Doc, so I had somewhere to go. Otherwise, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“You mentioned that you liked to frequent pubs and dance. Drink on occasion. Is that what you’re talking about?” He sat on the bed next to her and finally gave in to the temptation to feel her hair. To his shock, when he touched the strands, she leaned into him rather than away. “Lots of people like to do that. Not in this town, of course, but we’re a little on the slow side of progress here in the bush, if you haven’t noticed.”

“No. It was so much worse than that.”

She shouldn’t be here. Not like this, alone with Paul. She couldn’t help it. She only wanted to feel beautiful and cherished for a little while. Was that so terrible?

Helen’s frame melted when he touched her hair—when his voice wrapped her in such warmth and comfort. She wanted to confide everything in him, to know that someone would be her friend regardless of what she’d done. A part of her suspected Paul would be that person. That he would care about her, no matter what had happened.

But she’d worked so hard creating the world where she now lived. She had earned a place in the community. She had earned a place as Paul’s friend, and despite the fact she wanted to be a strong, independent woman, she didn’t want to lose his friendship.

If she told him everything, the whole truth, would he abandon her like so many others had? Including her parents?

“We’ve already established that you didn’t kill anyone. What could be so terrible that you can’t even tell me?” he whispered against her ear, the moist heat of his breath sending shivers down her spine.

She squeezed her eyes closed. If she pretended hard enough, she could make believe nothing had ever happened. She could go back to the time before she’d made such a horrible mistake.

Just five years ago, she’d been the delight of her mother’s life. She’d spent endless hours at her mother’s side, attending luncheons for this committee or that charitable cause. Her parents had been so proud when she’d been accepted to medical school. She’d attended her classes and concentrated on her studies. Then she’d met Maria, who had a free spirit and a lust for life and adventure Helen had never encountered before. Together, they’d bobbed their hair, attended parties and dances. They’d Charlestoned their way through their first year of medical school like two peas in a pod. Constantly together. Constantly looking for more ways to have fun.

She’d kept her marks high, completed her assignments, and graduated from school with honors. But her parents had been mortified by her behavior. And when the extent of her wild and wicked ways had come to light, her mother had refused to be seen in public with her.

“You’re thinking awfully hard, love. Why don’t you just tell me what happened so I can stop wondering about it?” Paul stroked her hair.

Her cheek pressed against his chest. She inhaled the deep, rich scent that was so uniquely Paul. When had she fallen into him like this? She should make him leave. She couldn’t be trusted to do the right thing when he touched her like this. Heat pooled in that place between her legs, and her breasts tightened. She licked her lips, in anticipation of a kiss she shouldn’t want.

“I can’t, Paul.” She wanted to raise her head and make him leave, but it felt too good to be held.

“I suppose there isn’t a rush. You’re not going anywhere, and I’m not going anywhere. I wish you felt like you could trust me.”

“I do trust you.” It was herself she didn’t trust. If she let him know how deeply she’d come to want him over the past few weeks, he would take advantage. She couldn’t blame him for that. He was a man.

But she would take advantage of it, as well. And she could blame herself.

“No, love. If you trusted me, you’d tell me anything. I know you can trust me, but you don’t. I know I’d never hurt you.”

She lifted her head at his words. The blue of his eyes was dark, almost violet, in the dim light of her bedroom. His brow furrowed while he looked deeply into her eyes, mesmerizing her with the gentleness she found there.

No, he would never hurt her. But there was more to it than that. She didn’t want to hurt him. Once he knew the whole truth, he wouldn’t want her anymore. At least, not for anything meaningful. She knew what it was like to be used, to be unloved, and she’d sworn she would never feel that way again.

She’d been selfish for far too long. It was time to think of someone else. Paul deserved someone kind and pure and whole.

She was none of those things.

She wasn’t even a virgin.

11

A
fter he left Helen’s flat, Paul walked to the docks and stared past the ships at the ocean for more than an hour. His body hummed with desire, aching and pulsing until he couldn’t think. Finally, he found his Rugby and went home.

Paul opened the door of his house, entered the bleak, empty interior, then closed the door silently behind him. Two steps into the main room, he knew he wasn’t alone. “Who’s there?”

“Don’t get your strides in a bunch, mate. It’s just me.”

“Tim?” Paul asked, flicking the light switch and swathing the room in golden light. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”