Nicolas still had trouble accepting what Serina had done that night. It had been cruel of her to come back into his life and raise his hopes where she was concerned.
It had taken him years to get over her initial refusal to go to England with him when he’d been just twenty-one. But he’d finally come to understand and accept—or he thought he had—that her love for her family back in Rocky Creek was much stronger than her love for him. He’d stayed away from home after that, not even returning to visit his mother. Instead, a couple of times a year, he’d send his mother money to travel to whatever part of the world he was in. Why torture himself?
Serina was the one who’d eventually sought him out, several years later.
He’d imagined he was over her by then. There’d been other women, lots of them. The fact he’d never lived with one, let alone married any of them, should have told him that his heart still belonged to Serina, that heart taking off into the stratosphere when he’d spotted her in the audience as he’d been taking his curtain call that fateful night, thirteen years ago. He recalled the date very well because it was the first time he’d performed in Sydney, having stayed right away from Australia as well as Rocky Creek.
When she’d appeared at his dressing-room door afterwards, he’d been incapable of speech. He’d taken one look into her lovely, tear-filled eyes, pulled her inside the room and locked the door behind her. They’d made love on the sofa with a hunger that had been insatiable, before sheer exhaustion had had them both falling asleep in each other’s arms.
When he’d woken she’d gone, leaving him a note saying that she was sorry, but she simply hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to be with him one last time. She’d begged him not to follow her home. She was marrying Greg Harmon in a few weeks and nothing he could do or say was going to change her mind. He could still recall her final argument, word for word.
‘Your life is playing the piano, Nicolas. It’s what you want and what you need—to perform. I could see that tonight. What we have when we’re together, it’s not love, Nicolas, it’s something else. Something dangerous. If I give in to it, it will destroy me. You will survive without me, I know you will.’
Well, he had. Survived, that is. Though it had been touch-and-go a couple of times.
Yet it had only taken the arrival of a pink envelope from Australia to make his heart race in that crazy way it always raced when he was with Serina. He’d thought she’d felt the same way about him once. And maybe she had. Looking back, he could see she’d been as powerless to resist him physically, as he’d been her. As lovers, they’d been perfect together, right from the start. Amazing, considering they’d both been virgins.
Nicolas shook his head at the memory of that night. If he’d known what was going to happen he would never have agreed to Mrs Johnson’s suggestion that Serina partner him to his graduation ball.
At that time in his life, Nicolas had had no time for girls. His only passion had been the piano.
Not that the girls weren’t after him; they were. At eighteen, Nicolas had been tall and handsome, with wavy blond hair and Nordic-blue eyes, which he’d been told were sexy. There’d been any number of girls in his class and in other classes at his high school who would have gladly agreed to go with him to his grad. But Nicolas just hadn’t wanted the complications that came with having a girlfriend. His focus had been all on his career back then. All he could think about was becoming the world’s greatest concert pianist. He’d already won a scholarship to go to the Conservatorium of Music in Sydney and would be leaving to study there in a couple of months’ time. His life in Rocky Creek—which he’d always hated—would soon be over.
But his mother had really wanted him to go to his graduation ball, so he’d given in to his music teacher’s suggestion and asked Serina, who was another of Mrs Johnson’s piano pupils. Nicolas had reasoned—incorrectly as it turned out—that because she was rather shy Serina was unlikely to become a problem. Conversation wouldn’t be difficult, either. They could always talk about music.
Imagine his surprise—and shock—when he went to pick her up in his mother’s car and a vision of loveliness came walking through her front door. She was wearing blue, a deep electric blue. Her dress was strapless, its material shiny, with a bell-shaped skirt, and her shoes were high. Her very shapely legs seemed to go on forever.
Up till then Nicolas had only ever seen Serina in her school uniform, with no makeup and her hair either in a plait or up in a pony tail.