He made a visible effort to relax. ‘I’ve never stayed here.’
‘But you know of it.’
He nodded. ‘It’s listed as a boutique guesthouse. Haute cuisine. Four guest suites, each one uniquely decorated. Very exquisite. Very exclusive. Very expensive. Very, very expensive. The gardens and trees were planted forty or fifty years ago by Hildegard, a famous landscape artist. I believe the outlook over the Jamieson Valley is quite spectacular, something any artist would want to paint.’
‘You must have been here before to know all that,’ Natalie said, disappointed he had already shared it with someone else.
‘No, I haven’t,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve heard about it. Many times.’
Her heart lightened. ‘Is it too expensive for us?’ she asked warily.
‘Not for you.’
‘I’d like to stay.’
‘Natalie...’ he seemed to struggle with some inner conflict ‘...you said you wanted a fresh start together.’
‘This is the place, Damien,’ she assured him. She must have seen it before, gone past it perhaps, and been so drawn to it that the wish to stay had lingered in her subconscious memory, a special place for a special occasion. ‘Every instinct I have tells me it’s right,’ she added with conviction.
‘Instinct...’ A look of savage irony flitted over his face.
‘What’s wrong, Damien?’ she asked anxiously, aware that her choice did not meet his wholehearted approval.
‘You’re the only one who can make the decision. If you say it’s right, it’s right,’ he said decisively, shrugging aside whatever doubts he’d had. He gave her a rueful smile as he reached across and took her hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers. ‘We’re together. Nothing else is more important to me.’
Natalie was intensely relieved at his surrender to the compulsion that had selected this place above all others. Yet she could not easily dismiss the tension flowing from him. His fingers gripped hers tightly, impressing his need for her. She wanted to say nothing else was important to her, either, but it wasn’t true. For some inexplicable reason, she needed Damien to share Merlinmist with her.
He withdrew his hand, and with an air of determination drove into the parking area for guests. The house was large, solidly built in red brick, two-storeyed, many-chimneyed, and with an impressive pillared portico protecting its entrance. It gave the sense of having stood the test of time, built to last against adversity. It had an instant and deep appeal to Natalie, as though it represented all she had lost, or all she was looking for in her new life.
Damien nodded to the three other parked cars as he helped Natalie alight from his. ‘We could be disappointed,’ he warned. ‘They might be fully booked.’
‘Fate wouldn?
??t be so unkind,’ she declared, her eyes alight with confidence as she curled her arm around his.
He smiled at her but he was still tense. She wished he would relax and enjoy the moment. The air was crisp and cool and invigorating. She felt brilliantly alive. Nothing could possibly go wrong. They were going to have a wonderful time together.
A honeymoon, she thought.
Merlinmist was the perfect place for a perfect honeymoon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY were lucky. There had been a late cancellation. One suite was available until the weekend. Three days and nights in this marvellous place, Natalie thought triumphantly. It was more than enough.
She loved the smell of beautifully polished furniture, loved the glorious floral arrangement in the foyer, loved the grand mahogany staircase that led upstairs, loved the dignified and gracious atmosphere that came with tall ceilings and panelled walls and richly patterned rugs and carpets.
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she was ushered into the bedroom she would share with Damien. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the magnificent half-tester bed that dominated the décor. Its yellow drapes looked stunning against a padded bedhead upholstered in a striped floral pattern. The detailed designer fabric was repeated in the valance below a white quilt on which were piled a liberal adornment of yellow and white cushions.
The night-stands on either side of the bed were matching Victorian sewing tables on graceful three-legged pedestals. They held tall brass lamps with yellow shades. Natalie swung around to see what balanced this splendid grouping of furniture. Facing the bed was a majestic chest of drawers with a large mirror, reflecting it all, giving double the visual pleasure.
She turned to look at Damien, hoping he was favourably impressed. She saw only the back view of him as he followed their hostess past the green velvet armchairs flanking a wide hearth. At the end of the sitting area, a log fire was set behind a glass-fronted fireplace. Damien adopted a listening pose as he was told how it worked, then crouched down to open the door and set the logs aflame.
Natalie’s attention wandered to the far wall where an elegant chaise-longue was placed in front of the windows. It provided casual relaxation for the viewing of winding valleys and spectacular red and yellow ochre cliff-faces that stretched as far as the eye could see.
A shiver ran down Natalie’s spine. The sheer stone cliffs looked so stark above the blueness of the eucalypts massed below them, stark and... unforgiving. She frowned over that fanciful last word. It was silly to attach any emotion to a geographical phenomenon.
She quickly responded to their hostess’s invitation to inspect the en-suite bathroom. Damien stayed behind to watch the progress of the licking flames, apparently intent on ensuring that the fire, which was rendered unnecessary by the air-conditioning system, made adequate progress.