A Night, A Secret...A Child

Nicolas had been cold to her, as cold as ice.

She hadn’t felt cold, however. Even whilst he’d questioned her about Felicity’s birth date in the most chilling and contemptuous fashion, she’d burned with a desire that she’d found both disturbing and despicable. It still upset her to think of what might have happened if Nicolas had made any kind of pass at her.

Fortunately, he hadn’t.

But who knew what he might do now that she was a widow. Had Felicity told him Greg was dead? It seemed likely that she had.

‘Do you have a copy of the letter you sent Mr Dupre?’ she asked her daughter somewhat stiffly.

Felicity looked pained. ‘Oh, Mum, that’s private!’

‘I want to see it, Felicity. And the email he sent back to you.’

Felicity pouted and stayed right where she was.

Serina rose from her chair, her expression uncompromising. ‘Let’s go, madam.’

Serina found her daughter’s letter very touching, till she got to the part where Felicity offered Nicolas accommodation at their house.

‘He can’t stay here!’ she blurted out before she could get control of herself.

‘Why not?’ Felicity demanded to know with the indignation—and innocence—of youth.

‘Because.’

‘Because why?’ her daughter persisted.

‘Because you don’t ask virtual strangers to stay in your home,’ she answered in desperation.

‘But he’s not a stranger. He lived here in Rocky Creek for years and years. Mrs Johnson said you were very good friends. She said you dated for a while.’

‘Only very casually,’ Serina lied. ‘And, as I said, that was nearly twenty years ago. I have no idea what kind of man Nicolas Dupre might have become in the meantime. For all I know he could be a drunk, or a drug addict!’

Felicity looked at her as though she were insane. ‘Mum, I think you’ve totally lost it. But you don’t have to worry. Mr Dupre refused my offer to stay with us. Here! Why don’t you read his email and then you won’t say such silly things.’

Felicity did a couple of clicks with her mouse and brought up the email from Nicolas. Serina read it.

Dear Felicity

Thank you for your lovely letter. I was saddened to hear of the tragic death of your father and send my deepest condolences to you and your mother. I have fond memories of Rocky Creek and would be glad to help you with your fund-raising project. You sound like a very intelligent and enterprising young lady of whom I’m sure your mother is very proud. Consequently, I would be honoured to be the judge for your talent quest.

Unfortunately, I have business engagements in New York and London for the next fortnight and cannot arrive in Sydney till the day before your concert. Thank you for your kind offer of a room but I would prefer to arrange my own accommodation in Port Macquarie. I will contact you by phone as soon as I arrive there, at which time you can explain where and when you want me to be the following day. Please confirm this arrangement by return email and include your home phone number. My regards to your mother and Mrs Johnson. I am looking forward to meeting up with them both once again.

All the best, Nicolas Dupre.

Serina didn’t know what to say. The email was extremely polite. Too polite, in fact, and a bit pompous. It didn’t sound at all like Nicolas.

Maybe what she’d said to Felicity was right in a way. She didn’t know him anymore. The passing years might have changed him from the impassioned and rather angry young man he’d once been into something entirely different. Someone calm and mature and yes…kind. Maybe he was coming all this way out of kindness. Maybe it had nothing to do with her being a widow now, nothing to do with her at all! Nicolas was just responding to the heartfelt request of a young girl whose father had been tragically killed.

Serina tried to embrace this possibility but she simply couldn’t. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that his coming back to Rocky Creek had nothing to do with kindness. It was all about her.

Not that she believed Nicolas was still in love with her. He’d made his contempt quite clear at his mother’s funeral. But maybe he’d spotted the hunger in her eyes. Maybe his plan was to take full advantage of that hunger, to do to her what she’d once done to him: indulge in a wild one-night stand, then dump her in the morning.

A shiver ran down Serina’s spine, a highly disturbing, cruelly seductive shiver.

Please, don’t let that be his plan. Let him be coming back for something else. To visit his mother’s grave perhaps. Don’t let me be his underlying motive, or his prey. Don’t let him be looking for sexual revenge. Because this time, I have nowhere to run to, and no one to hide behind…