It was with something akin to relief that Jane heard Anna say,
'Mrs. Feldwick and her daughter will be arriving this evening. The Boss is taking the plane to meet them off the train.'
'Where are they coming from?' Jane later inquired of Sue. She had decided to have her hair shampooed and set and to her delight she met Sue in the shop, also intending to have her hair done.
'Sydney. They have an apartment there.'
'Don't they work?'
'Oh, yes. They have a small gown shop—rather exclusive. They're lucky in that they have a most reliable assistant who looks after the place whenever they're away.'
'I'm glad they're coming,' mused Jane, her eyes on the woman under the drier. She was the schoolteacher but this was Saturday so there was no school. She saw Jane and smiled. They were a great crowd, Jane had decided on being introduced to some more of the wives. As yet she had not met many of the men—just those who came in for breakfast and the rouseabouts who lived in at the homestead, Paddy One and Two and the Scotsman, Jock, youngish and obviously taken with Jane.
'Why—fed up with your own company?' Sue appeared slightly anxious until Jane shook her head.
'No, it isn't that. I've been kept busy in any case. It's—well—a strain, rather, having dinner every night with the Boss. I hadn't expected to be eating with him regularly.'
'I must say I was rather surprised myself when you mentioned the arrangement. Perhaps he's troubled that you'd feel out of place eating in the kitchen with the lubras.'
'Margaret did.'
'Yes, but for most of the time she was here there was another home help, Stella from the south of England. Wonder Margaret didn't mention her.'
'Margaret didn't write much at first—I think I told you that?'
'Yes. Well, this Stella and Margaret palled up and so they wouldn't mind eating together in the kitchen. As you have no one the Boss must have decided to be polite and let you dine with him.'
'It's a strain,' said Jane again, relieved to see Avril being taken from under the drier. Jane never did have much patience when waiting in the hairdresser's.
'Then why don't you eat in the kitchen?'
'I don't like to suggest it.' She wouldn't really like to eat in the kitchen; she had never been used to it at home where her mother, following the genteel pattern of her own childhood and youth in a small stately manor, had always insisted that as meals were social events they should be eaten in a pretty setting, hence the regular use of her dining-room.
'Well, you'll be having company for a while now,' said Sue. 'I'm sure you'll get along splendidly with the two who are coming this evening.'
***
It was several hours later when, having missed the arrival of the two women because she was in the kitchen doing all the preliminaries for the evening meal, which would be served by the lubras, Jane met Crystal and her mother.
Scott made the introduction as soon as Jane, in a flowered evening dress, arrived on the verandah for pre-dinner drinks. As usual he was superbly dressed in the appropriate clothes, this time wearing a white tropical suit which contrasted most attractively with the burnt-ochre of his skin.
'How do you do?' Mrs. Feldwick said graciously as she looked Jane over swiftly. 'Are you settling in all right?'
'Very well, thank you,' smiled Jane, aware that the Boss was for some reason appearing to be more interested in her than usual. She felt his intense gaze on her as she turned to Crystal and extended a hand.
'What can I get you, Jane?'
'Sherry, please.' Jane took the chair he indicated with a negligent flick of his hand. 'Did you have a pleasant journey?' she inquired for something to say.
'Not very. I dislike travelling but love it when I get here. Scott's so hospitable, the perfect host, and so we come as often as we can.' Mrs. Feldwick was smiling affectionately at his broad back. A small silence fell then and Jane's eyes wandered to the girl. Yes, she was about her own age, dark with a rounded, pretty face and eyes that were something between grey and green, wide and frank with a fringe of curling dark lashes.
Her mother was equally attractive but in an entirely different way. Serene and cool, with a clear complexion and dark hair immaculately coiffured to include a French pleat to the left side, she at first appeared to be rather aloof, superior like her cousin. But the smile, slow but sincere, detracted from the impression of austerity and made her human, attractive in a compelling way which, decided Jane, ran in the family because of late she had reluctantly admitted that the Boss was compellingly attractive too, drawing her at times in a way that was disturbing to say the least.
Jane didn't want him to appeal to her in that way; she'd had enough with Paddy and wanted only to remain heart-free for a very long time to come.
Scott was showing another side of his personality from that to which Jane had become used in the five days she had been at Jacana Downs. Hitherto he had been politely cool, showing the minimum of interest in Jane so that conversation had always flagged, hence the reason for her telling Sue that dining with him was a strain. This evening, though, he was the gracious, interested host, with ears for everything that was said by any one of the three women. Mrs. Feldwick was keen to know how Jane was taking to the life; she asked numerous questions without hesitation or apology. Jane answered, profoundly aware that Scott was just as interested as his cousin.
'So you had no real reason for coming?' Mrs. Feldwick said. 'You just wanted a change, a bit of adventure?'
'That's right.' The lie came glibly but Jane knew she had coloured slightly, knew too that Scott's keen eyes had noticed and she wondered if he were curious as to the reason for it. She hated the idea that he might conclude she had told a lie.
'And how long are you intending to stay?' It was Crystal who put the question and Jane turned in her direction.
'I can't say. I'm very happy here and like the change.'
'And the work?' Scott's deep-set grey eyes became keenly questioning as they looked directly into hers. 'It's not what you've been used to.'
'No, but I'm adaptable.'
'It's menial in comparison.' Scott lifted his glass from the rattan table at his elbow and sipped the aperitif slowly, his eyes still on Jane's face which registered surprise at the remark.
'Menial, yes, but honest work could never disgrace anyone.'
'A splendid philosophy,' applauded Mrs. Feldwick. 'One could sweep the streets or deal with garbage and still retain one's dignity.'
'Of course,' returned Jane matter-of-factly. 'If I were desperate I'd do anything rather than be out of work.' She looked again at Scott, to find his eyes still focused on her.
'I admire your doctrine, Jane.' Scott's firm mouth curved in a smile which seemed to send a pleasant but unwanted tingle along Jane's spine. Why was the man so darned attractive! She knew a sudden resentment against him and anger against herself for the way she was allowing him to affect her. Just because he had unbent a little, had smiled at her, said something flattering to her by saying he admired her doctrine.
She thought of Paddy and wondered if she were one of those stupid females who were susceptible to any man who was physically attractive. But no. It had never happened until the advent of Paddy. And now…. Well, perhaps it was excusable to be attracted by a man of Scott Farnham's masculine perfection. He had just about everything to make a woman's imagination run riot—a superb physique and the litheness of an athlete, handsome features with the added characteristics acquired by the outdoor life he led, a certain charm of manner and pose that had nothing to do with the majestic way he walked or gestured—or even spoke, with that finely timbred voice enhanced by the slow and quiet Australian drawl.
Conversation drifted into less personal channels for a while and then Mrs. Feldwick said,
'How's the romance getting along, Scott? Last time we were here I had a feeling you'd be engaged when we made our next appearance.'
He shrugged and said,
'Not yet, Rachel. There's plenty of time.' Leaning forward, he placed his glass on the table again. Jane looked at the hand, the long brown fingers betraying strength in spite of their slenderness.
'You're not a youngster,' his cousin reminded him and he grimaced. 'And Daphne's no chicken either. How old is she—twenty-eight?'
'I believe she's twenty-seven,' with the lifting of a hand to hide a yawn.
'Believe?' repeated Rachel with a quirk of an eyebrow. 'Don't you know the age of your lady love?'
He laughed and fixed her gaze.
'Stop match-making, Rachel. I shall enter the inevitable net when I become tired of my own company.'
'Fighting shy, eh? The confirmed bachelor, or perhaps you would like people to regard you as immune? You can't leave Jacana without an heir, Scott.'
Again he lifted a lean brown hand to mask a yawn. Jane knew it was for effect and her eyes were twinkling as they met his.
'I'm not particularly interested in what happens when I'm dead,' he commented. 'Can I get you another drink, Crystal?'
'Snubbed, am I?' laughed his cousin. 'I can take it, though. I always have, from you.' She fell silent, watching him refill her daughter's glass. 'Most men want an heir,' she said.
'Perhaps Scott wants to marry for love.' It was plain that Crystal had spoken without thinking. Jane watched with renewed interest to see how Scott took this. But it was his cousin who broke the silence.
'What on earth makes you think that he doesn't love Daphne!'
'I…' Crystal went red. 'I didn't think what I was saying.' Confused, she averted her head and stared down into her glass.
'Shall we change the subject?' from Scott in suave decisive tones. 'Jane, we were talking about your work here and I was saying it was different from what you had been used to. You were a private secretary, your friend Margaret told me.'
Jane nodded her head.
'That's right.'
'You were happy in that kind of work?'
'Yes, of course I was.' She naturally refrained from mentioning her unpredictable boss whose attitude towards her had often brought forth the comment from some colleague or another:
'How the devil do you put up with his tantrums, Jane?'
The salary was good; she more often than not knew how to deal with Joseph Bligh's 'tantrums' and so life at work wasn't nearly so bad as most people believed. Nevertheless, she had come away with a sense of relief rather than regret, since a change was certainly overdue.
'Yet you can accept the work in the kitchen—and say you are happy with it?'
She frowned slightly. What exactly was he getting at?
'I'm happy with the change,' she said, conscious of two other pairs of eyes fixed upon her.
Scott said nothing more on the subject and during dinner his conversation was mainly with his visitors. Jane was brought in of course but she felt it was merely out of politeness and good manners and as soon as the meal was finished she asked to be excused.
'You're not going to bed?' frowned Rachel with a hint of concern in her quiet voice.
'I—well, I do feel rather tired,' she said.
'We're having coffee and liqueurs on the verandah,' said Scott. 'I'm sure you'd like to join us.' He was all charm again… and again she was conscious of emotions that were new and although not too troublesome she did feel a faintly disturbing vibration of nerves, unfamiliar and resented.
They went out together and were served by Anna, big and buxom and stolid as the Sphynx in her expression. Dark-skinned and with premature lines round eyes and mouth, she had about her that certain air of dignity which characterised all those who were native to the ancient soil of the Inland and the desert.
Jane leant back in her upholstered chair and tried not to look at her employer. But his firm profile silhouetted against the night's purple darkness drew her attention and fixed it so that she could not drag her eyes away. The two women were talking quietly while sipping their coffee; Scott turned his head as if aware suddenly of the fixed interest of his home help. She averted her head swiftly and hoped the dimness of the amber lights above her head effectively hid the tinge of embarrassment that had stained her cheeks. To be caught staring at him like that! What must he think of her? She found herself wondering if he were already beginning to assume she had a crush on him—She halted her thoughts but they thrust themselves into her consciousness instantly. Crush….
Was this sensation of being drawn to him a crush? She had never met any man with this kind of compelling personality and distinctive magnetism and she found herself admitting that he was a man it was impossible to ignore. His very presence affected the atmosphere; he seemed to be a vital part of it.
She thought of Daphne, whom she had not yet met, and something weighty and unpleasant pressed against the nerves of her stomach.
'You're very quiet, Jane.' His voice severed her musings and slowly she lifted her head. She looked beyond him and upwards, to where the heavens were brightest, the Southern Cross spangling them, a tapestry of silver in bouyant suspension against the purple velvet of an Australian sky.
'I'm just relaxing, and enjoying the peace,' she said, a smile hovering on her lips. She felt strangely at peace in spite of the weight that still pressed upon her. 'It's wonderful here, in the cool of the night and the feeling of isolation from the rest of mankind.' She paused to note his expression and found it unfathomable. 'Do you feel the detachment too—or are you so used to it you don't notice?' It was the first time she had spoken with such freedom and ease; she felt herself to be his equal, although she had no illusions that he was feeling the same way about her.
'I notice,' he answered in his slow and quiet drawl. 'So you like the isolation?'
'Yes. It's so restful… like returning to the primitive before man appeared to sully the earth.' She had been talking almost to herself and she coloured up again on hearing Rachel exclaim,
'My, but we're getting on to a deep subject! Primitive, Jane? Do you mean to say you'd like to go back in time and live before the age of progress?'
Jane laughed rather shakily and said she'd like to go back even farther than that, much farther.
'But in that case, my dear, you'd not be here now. Surely life is precious to you?'
'Oh, yes, of course. I was merely dreaming, allowing my imagination to run riot. One can never ever go back—not with any success.' She spoke in a lowered tone, again almost to herself for she was thinking of Paddy and feeling glad she'd had the strength of character to come away before any real harm was done. She would never go back while there was the least danger of her losing her heart to Paddy, or of him losing his to her.
'Not with any success,' repeated Scott; there was something of a question in the words and he was subjecting her to a curious scrutiny. 'It sounds as if there were a hidden quality in what you said?'
She coloured delicately.
'No—why should there be?'
He shrugged as if with sudden impatience and his tone was coolly dispassionate when next he spoke.
'I guess you had a very good reason for coming out here, but of course it's your own business.'
She felt snubbed and as soon as it was possible she again asked to be excused. This time there was no attempt to stop her from leaving but once in her room she felt inexplicably restless and, convinced she would not be able to sleep yet awhile, she decided to take a stroll outside. She kept to the back of the house in order to remain out of sight of those on the verandah, not knowing that the two women had said good night to Scott almost immediately after she had left the verandah.
She saw the shadowy figure crossing her path and halted. But Scott had sensed her presence and she bit her lip with vexation as he turned his head then stopped, obviously waiting for her to come up to him. She hesitated, then realised she was surely looking foolish, standing here, for no reason at all. She said awkwardly as she reached him,
'I felt I wouldn't sleep so I decided to take a walk. It's—it's very pleasant out here.' Did he know just how embarrassed she was? Jane rather thought he would know because she had already sensed his uncanny perception.
'I find it so,' he agreed without expression. 'Which way were you going?' They were at a sort of crossroads, with a wide lawn spreading away to their left. The gleam of the swimming pool was to their right but some distance away; it looked silver-blue in the moonlight, its surface shimmering as a result of the mechanical circulation of the water. It was a pretty sight, with its backcloth of tall palms, like sentinels against the star-spangled, Capricornian sky. Other trees swayed gently, foliage bright and argent-tinted. Oleanders formed a protective hedge around two sides of the pool and along another side were changing huts and a flower-draped patio where white chairs and a table stood out against the darker background of hibiscus bushes.
'I wasn't intending to take any specific path,' she answered at length. 'I just want to wander.'
'You've done this before?'
She nodded at once, automatically falling into step beside him as he moved and then belatedly wondering if he would rather be alone.
'Yes, once or twice.'
'Don't go out of the grounds at night.'
'No? Not even if I keep the homestead in sight?'
'Has anyone mentioned scrub bulls to you?'
'No—what are they?' She matched her steps to his and an access of excitement tingled her nerve-ends. Vaguely she was recalling that she never felt quite like this about Paddy.
'Bulls gone wild. They're about sometimes and you never know just when or where you'll come face to face with one. They're dangerous so be warned.'
She shivered at the idea of being faced with a massive wild bull out there in the bush.
'I can't go out in the daytime, then—not outside the grounds?'
'Yes, you can walk but keep yourself alert. You'd like to ride, no doubt? Margaret spent a good deal of her free time either riding or swimming.'
'I can have a horse?' Her voice was eager, her big eyes limpid and happy as she raised them to his. 'Thank you very much, Mr.—er….' She had never yet felt comfortable at calling him Boss to his men even though she knew she would have to get used to it sometime.
He sent his glance from her face to her figure as if to put her at her ease. But he said without much expression,
'I believe you know how to address me?'
She coloured in the moonlight.
'Yes, I've been told.'
'But you don't like it?'
She bit her lip.
'I'm sorry. It's just that—that it makes me feel inferior—and—and embarrassed.'
He slanted her a glance, one eyebrow raised.
'Nevertheless, you will have to get used to it.' Crisp the tone and firm. 'You'd feel far more embarrassed should anyone hear you address me as Mr. Farnham.'
'Yes—Sue told me.' She changed the subject abruptly. 'I think I'll turn in now.' They had passed the pool, skirting the patio and were now in a less formal part of the grounds. There was a perfume in the air and she paused to look around.
'The frangipani over there,' indicated Scott with a raised finger. 'Its other name is the Temple Tree. You like the perfume?'
'It's delightful! What are the flowers like?' She could not see them, of course, although she could see the tree itself.
'Creamy white and delicate.' His voice was low, appreciative. Jane darted him an upward glance, amazed at the idea that this toughened giant of the great outdoors could be sentimental about a flower.
'I must come along in the morning and have a look.' They were still walking, away from the lights of the gardens, into the dimness of the more wooded region of the homestead grounds. Jane found she was tingling with an inexplicable sense of expectation. For the air around her seemed vibrant, the atmosphere between her and Scott tense… as if they were on the edge of a precipice.
Bewildered and unsure of herself, she repeated her intention of going inside.
'Very well, Jane. I'll walk with you.'
'It doesn't matter,' she began but he interrupted her.
'It's dark and lonely here. I'd better come with you.'
She started in surprise, wondering greatly at this change in his attitude towards her, for until this evening he had seemed hardly to notice her at all. He stopped; she stared up in the darkness, sensing his interest, and then his frown. He was close, so close that she was vitally conscious of the pervasive smell of after-shave mingling with the sense-stirring male odour of him.
Jane swallowed, affected as she had never been affected before and suddenly she knew she must get away, quickly. And in her haste she swung around without realising that the ground was made bumpy by aerial roots which, as she stepped on one, sent her staggering off-balance. Strong hands caught her before she fell; she was brought with a jerk against the whipcord hardness of Scott's body and before she could even try to get her breath back her mouth was covered with his. The kiss was fierce and sensuous, his lips moistly exploring, compelling her to part hers. Quivers of erotic desire were shot through every nerve cell as this awakening experience swam freely through her half-protesting frame. She seemed to be robbed of the strength to object when his hand, warm and sensuous, closed on the virginal lobe of one high firm breast. An ache of swift longing affected her loins, forcing her to strain against him, succumbing to the mastery of his own insistent rhythm. The world around her spun with her loss of control; she slid her arms about his neck, thrilling to the awareness that her caress on his nape was as exciting to him as it was to her. His sinewed frame was possessed of a strength that left her gasping and with the sure knowledge that she was collecting bruises. His hardness was pain as well as pleasure; his exploring hands as they now slid with arrogant possession along her thighs were as savagely hurtful as they were amorously gentle.
'You're… desirable, Jane.' His mouth was hot against her cheek, his hands searching and insistent as they slid even farther down her body. An infusion of desire sent spasms through her and she thrilled to his reciprocation, to the knowledge that she had stimulated him to the point of diminishing control. She had flashes of thought which made her squirm but sanity was not for moments like this! Intoxicated by the night and the moon and the sense of isolation, she allowed the fever-heat of Scott's love-making to ignite a flame within her which could only be quenched by total and sublime fulfillment.
Abandoned, insensible to what was right and wrong, drawn into the fiery tempest of Scott's almost primitive domination, Jane could not control the words that quivered breathlessly on her lips.
'Love me, Scott….'
'I intend to.' His answer was a gruff and throaty bass tone against the delicate curve of her throat. 'Yes, I intend to….' One lean hand came up; the strap of her dress was brought down from her shoulder… and she quivered from head to foot as flesh met flesh in the most intimate situation she had ever been with a man. She felt heady with submission, desiring only to be conquered, brought low by the mastery of Scott's hands and his body. He lifted her and she let her head fall onto his shoulder as he carried her back the way they had come, making for one of the changing rooms by the pool.
After kicking open the door he entered and laid her down on a garden lounger which, she later learned, was one of several brought in there when not in use outside. In the darkness she lay on her back, aware that he was beginning to undress.
'You're more of a sport than I had expected,' she heard him say and it did seem that contempt edged his voice. 'Margaret was far more straight-laced, but then she had ties back home. I presume you have none?'
Jane felt an icy finger running along her spine. Ignoring his question she said in low and tremulous tones,
'Margaret—you tried to—to make love to her?'
'No, but one of the stockmen did. He received a slap across the face and a kick on the shin.'
'And—and so she was respected after that?'
'Very much so.' Scott threw his white jacket onto a chair. 'Yes, your friend was very well liked here—What—!'
Jane had risen, brushed against him in the dark, and was at the door, fumbling for the handle, her breath catching in her throat.
'I want to—to go—!' But Scott's grip was a vice on her wrist, his voice almost harsh above her.
'No you don't! Run out on me, would you?' A low laugh escaped him as, roughly, he seized her chin and forced her head right back. With his elbow he snapped on the light. Jane's heart failed her as she noted his expression. He had no intention of allowing her to change her mind. 'What's the idea, Jane?' he demanded, his tone as rough as his touch. 'Why the change? You were more than willing a moment ago—'
'I was crazy! Out of my mind!' she flared, twisting about in her attempt to be free of his bruising hold on her wrist. 'It was madness, and now I've seen my folly. You spoke of Margaret and—'
'So that was it,' he broke in sardonically. 'I upset you by the comparison. You resented it, didn't you? Yes, Margaret was very different from you but you must have known it so why the embarrassed maiden stunt? Do you suppose it impresses me after the intimacy of the last quarter of an hour?' Again he laughed, releasing her but standing between her and the door. She drew a trembling hand through her hair, aware of acute perspiration on her forehead and in the palms of her hands. Why, oh why, had she been tempted! It was no wonder that this man despised her, compared her most unfavourably with her friend.
But what if Margaret had been tempted by Scott rather than the stockman? Would she have been so strong then?
Useless questions which could not be answered and Jane chided herself for mentally asking them.
'Please let me go,' she begged, aware of tears glistening on her lashes. 'I was a fool and bitterly regret my weakness. I know you must believe me to be cheap, but I'm not. I've never let a man do—do the-th-things you did….' Hot with embarrassment and humiliation she lowered her head, felt the tears escape and brought up a fist to knuckle her eyes. Whether it was this childish gesture or not she would never know, but without warning his manner changed, miraculously, and he was tilting her chin again but this time rather gently. He looked into her tear-dimmed eyes for a long moment, a tense and electric moment, and she thought he was fighting the impulse to kiss her again. He let her go, and moved from his position of guarding the door. He picked up his coat and put it on.
'Come on,' he commanded abruptly. 'We'll get back to the homestead.' He paused a moment. 'Dry your eyes—' He flipped a handkerchief from his pocket and dangled it before her. 'Use this. You can't go back looking like that—'
'Thank you,' she faltered and began to use the handkerchief.
'The others did say good night as if they were going to bed but you never know. They could have changed their minds and be around when we get back. So make sure you're looking all right.' Slow the voice now, typified by the drawl, but the tone was firm for all that and Jane accepted the small black comb he offered her.
'I'm very sorry,' she quavered as she handed back the comb and handkerchief.
'About that? No more sorry than I,' he added with a snort of grim amusement. 'If you aren't willing to go through with it, my girl, then cut out the preliminaries! If you don't you're going to find yourself in trouble one of these days. I warn you, not many of my stockmen have the same sense of chivalry as I.'
He meant to embarrass her and he succeeded. Jane felt the burning intensity of this embarrassment in her cheeks and she put her hands to them unconsciously.
'You obviously think the worst of me,' she said, not having meant to say anything like that at all but it slipped out, a reflection of her unhappy thoughts.
'What else?' he responded dryly. 'I could have taken you out there—' He stopped and spread his hands. 'You're a bit of a puzzle, though,' he admitted with a swift and heavy frown. 'If you're easy then why the sudden change of mind?'
She shook her head, vaguely conscious of the idea that she must leave Jacana Downs just as soon as she could.
'You wouldn't understand,' was all she had to say and as he made no response they walked in silence back to the house.
'Good night,' she said huskily when they reached the verandah and she turned to enter the sitting-room.
'Good night, Jane.' Amusement edged his voice and his mouth quirked at one corner. 'Sleep well.'
She looked at him, ashamed and depressed, yet angry with him because of the part he had played in the drama. Men! They knew their power to tempt, were familiar at an early age with all the tricks—the use of hands and speech and even breath! Jane said with a touch of dignity,
'You will not be surprised when I say I am leaving. How soon can that be arranged? I don't suppose you'll demand a month's notice from me?'
Although he appeared untouched by this, and a hand was lifted to conceal a yawn, there was a certain degree of vexation in his voice when he said,
'Don't be absurd. You can't leave your job for a small thing like that. Go to bed; you'll see it all differently in the morning.' He frowned at her. 'Run along, I said. Self-pity bores me.'
Her eyes blazed at the way he was treating her, like a petulent child whom he would dearly have loved to spank!
'I shall leave no matter what you say!' she flung at him and turned without another word, tears of anger blinding her vision as she made her way towards the curving, balustraded staircase which lead to the landing off of which her room was situated.
