by Margaret Way
Meanwhile he was making her feel decidedly odd. It was as if she were someone else. She couldn’t allow that. She had to be herself, yet the feel of his arms around her had deep chords resounding within her. His hand on her back could even be playing her like a master musician. What was he really thinking?
‘You look very beautiful,’ he said. His voice, which was resonant and deep, had considerable emotional power.
Carrie took a quick breath, thinking she wasn’t going to give him any help.
‘Harper is a lucky man.’
Now she tilted her head to stare into his eyes. ‘What went wrong between you two? It seems strange—you were both so young when you moved away, yet I sense a history between you and Scott. An animosity that still clings.’
The flash in his eyes was as blue as an acetate flame. ‘Scott Harper used to like to scare me when I was a kid.’
She felt shame on Scott’s behalf. ‘It still matters?’
He shrugged. ‘You saw how your fiancé was. I’m sure he’ll be right with us any moment now. Do you mind that most of the guys here, though they’re dying to dance with you, are keeping their distance?’
That hit home. ‘I do realise,’ she said, more severely than she had intended, ‘but Scott is my fiancé.’
He nodded. ‘A pity’
‘A pity he’s my fiancé?’ Now she was really on the defensive.
‘How do you know I don’t want you for myself?’ He unfolded a slow smile, keeping his tone light.
Hectic colour swept into her cheeks, enhancing her beauty. ‘I’m sorry, Clay, but I’m taken.’
‘Have you set a date for the wedding?’ he asked, with interest.
‘Why aren’t you married?’ she countered, aware something potentially dangerous was smouldering between them.
‘Because I believe a man has to be able to provide for a wife before he embarks on matrimony.’
She realised she was becoming agitated. She had to rein herself in. ‘The rumour around town is you’re looking for a wife. Could that possibly be right?’
His smile was self mocking. ‘You might very well see me on the doorstep of the Bulletin some time soon. I understand you’re Pat Kennedy’s right hand woman. You can help me run an ad. “Bush Bachelor Seeks A Wife!” You could advise me what to say, maybe help me read through what replies come in.’
‘You’re joking!’ She felt an odd anger.
Clay’s blue, blue eyes were alight with what? Devilment? A taunt? He was still holding her lightly but she was starting to feel she couldn’t breathe.
‘I couldn’t be more serious,’ he replied. ‘I want a wife beside me. I want children. I’ve been so flat-out working all my life, I’ve had little time to play the courting game. Besides, eligible young women aren’t all that easy to find. I thought an ad might work. It would certainly speed things up.’
He was obviously waiting for her response.
It came out soft but tart. ‘Why don’t you simply walk up to one of the girls here?’ Carrie challenged him, wishing she was older, taller, more experienced. As it was she was a little afraid of him.
He wasn’t smiling. ‘Forgive me, but it’s hard to see past you.’
That transfixed her. She, so light on her feet, a lovely dancer, missed a step, nearly causing him to tread on her toe. ‘Must I remind you that I’m taken?’ she said as though he had broken a strict rule.
‘So you are!’ His voice was deeply regretful.
What should she do? Walk away? Abandon him on the dance floor? She didn’t want to. At the same time she knew she had to.
Run, run away! Far from temptation!
‘Give yourself plenty of time to make sure it’s going to work.’ He steered her away from a whirling couple.
‘Is that a warning?’ This man was deliberately casting a spell on her. To what end?
‘I don’t see the two of you together,’ he said.
‘How can you possibly judge?’ Despite herself she began to compare him with Scott. It was something she couldn’t control. ‘You don’t know me and you don’t know Scott. We have a fine future ahead of us.’
‘Why, then, the fright in your eyes? If he’s the love of your life?’
There was such a whirring inside her. It was as though some part of her hitherto not properly in working order, suddenly sprang into life. ‘Why are we talking like this, Clay? It’s getting very personal and private.’ Not to say out of order.
‘I told you. I don’t have much time. Besides, I feel I could talk to you far into the night.’
‘You’ve just told me why.’ She pointed out, not without sarcasm. ‘You’re lonely.’
‘It’s possible that’s part of it,’ he agreed smoothly.
Carrie sucked in her breath; waited a moment. ‘I must tell you I wouldn’t have agreed to marry Scott if I didn’t love him.’ Now her voice sounded stilted.
‘As I said, Harper is a very lucky man.’
This was too much. Just too much. She couldn’t play this game if that’s what it was. Dancing with him wasn’t the same as dancing with Scott. Or any other man for that matter. She could feel the blood beating in her throat, in her breasts, in the pit of her stomach. She had never been so breathtakingly conscious of her own flesh.
The same tipsy couple almost careened into them. Clay’s arm tightened around her as he swiftly drew her out of harm’s way.
She knew it was well past the time to break away, but she made the excuse to herself that would only draw attention to them. So change the subject quickly! ‘You’re not planning to leave, then?’
‘Caroline, I’ve just arrived,’ he replied, mock-plaintively.
‘Everyone calls me Carrie.’ She spoke as if to correct him when in reality the sound of her name on his lips was like a bell tolling inside her.
‘I’m not everyone,’ he said quietly. ‘Carrie is pretty. Caroline suits you better.’
‘What if I say I want you to call me Carrie?’
‘All right, Carrie.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll call you Caroline whenever I get the chance.’
It was totally unnerving how dramatically he was getting to her. ‘I used to think when I was little that Jimboorie House was a palace.’
‘So did I.’ Again his glance like blue flame rested on her.
‘You have more than a trace of an English accent. Where did that come from?’
He looked over her blond head. ‘From my mother I guess. She was Anglo-Irish and well spoken—and lovely. My father’s appallingly cruel family had no right to treat her the way they did. They turned all their fury on her because my father abandoned them for her. The accent would have been reinforced by long contact with my late mentor who was English. I became very close to him.’
‘Was he the one who presented you with Lightning Boy?’ She wanted to know all about him.
He nodded. ‘Yes, he was. He handed Lightning Boy over a couple of months before he died.’
She read the grief in his glance. ‘What did you do? Did you work for him?’
‘I was proud to,’ he said briefly, his tone a little curt. ‘My boss and mentor.’
‘Are you going to tell me his name?’
‘No, Caroline.’ He refused her. At the same time his gaze gathered her up.
‘I’m sorry.’ She glanced across the dance floor at all the glowing, happy faces. This would go on into the wee hours. ‘I won’t intrude. I’m just glad you met someone who treated you well.’
‘I can’t recall many others.’ His expression was openly bitter.
‘Are you going to make us all pay for wounding you?’ she asked, thinking he had been hurt a great deal.
He ignored her question. ‘I’d like to take you out to Jimboorie. Would you come?’
Her heart jumped. Agree and there’d be trouble. Big trouble.
‘Look at me,’ he invited quietly. ‘Not away. Would you come, Caroline?’
A back-up singer in the band launched into a romantic number. ‘How do you see me?�
�� she countered. ‘As someone whose freedom is being curtailed?’
‘Is it?’ He studied her so intently he might have been trying to unmask her.
That put her on her mettle. ‘I’d be delighted to come,’ she said shortly, consoling herself she had been driven to it.
‘Good. I confess I find a woman’s views necessary.’
‘Is it your intention to put in your ad that Jimboorie House is falling down?’ She met his eyes.
‘Certainly. It’s the right thing to do,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But it’s not in the utter state of decay it appears to be from the outside. The best materials were used in its construction. The finest, stoutest timbers. The cedar came from the vast forests of the Bunya Bunya Mountains. The house itself is built of sandstone. There is a tremendous amount of restoration to be done—I can’t deny that—but somehow I’ll get around it.’
‘Perhaps you should say in your ad that you’re looking for an heiress?’ she suggested, bitter-sweet.
‘Now that’s a great idea.’ His face broke into a mocking smile.
Unnoticed by either of them Scott Harper, who had been further detained by two of his father’s friends wanting to know if he thought his team could continue their unbeaten polo season, was quickly canvassing the crowd.
The blood flooded into his face the moment he saw them together. He drew in his breath sharply, catching his bottom lip between strong teeth and drawing blood. How could Carrie possibly do this thing? She knew how he felt about Clay Cunningham. All his childhood antipathy had returned but one hundred times worse. He made his way towards them, threading a path through the dancers, some of them, marking his expression, getting out of his way.
Just look at her, Scott inwardly raged, his jealousy violent and painful. Her beautiful blond head was tipped right back as she stared up into Cunningham’s eyes.
This is wrong, all wrong. Let her go!
His progress was stopped when a woman got him in a surprisingly strong arm-lock. ‘Scotty, you’re not ignoring me are you, darling?’
He swung, catching the hateful expression of malice on Natasha’s face. ‘You can’t let your dewy little fiancée have a bit of fun, can you?’ Her voice dropped so low he could barely hear her. ‘And she is having fun, isn’t she?’
‘Let go, Natasha,’ he rasped. If she’d been a man he would have hit her, so tense was his mood.
‘Sure. One dance and we’ll call it a night.’ She stepped right up to him, a stunning figure in violet banded in silver, putting both hands on his shoulders. ‘Don’t make a fool of me now, Scotty,’ she warned. ‘I’ve kept my mouth shut up to now, but things can change.’
‘You’re a real bitch! You know that?’ he muttered, contempt built into his voice. Nevertheless he retained enough sense to draw her into his arms.
‘You don’t say that when I’m making you happy.’ Natasha, a tall woman, stared with hard challenge into his eyes.
‘I should never have started with you,’ he said.
A shadow fell across her blue eyes. ‘You told me once you were in love with me. I’m still in love with you.’
‘Why don’t you get over it?’ he suggested harshly.
‘Easier said than done, Scotty. Don’t get mad at me. I’m your friend. I’ve loved you far too much and far too long. You’ve made a big mistake getting yourself hitched up to Carrie McNevin. You haven’t got a damned thing in common. And how ridiculous is that virgin bit?’ Her lips curled in a sneer.
‘Shut up,’ Scott hissed violently, in the next minute thankful the dance music had changed to something loud and upbeat. Why had he ever told Natasha about Carrie and himself? He was a thousand times sorry.
‘Watch it!’ she warned, an answering rage in her eyes. ‘You don’t want people to see how jealous you are my cousin is fascinating your beloved little virgin. I have to admit he scrubs up pretty well. That’s the Cunningham in him, of course. Why don’t we sit this out for a while? Or we could go outside?’
‘Forget it,’ he said bluntly.
Her expression was both wounded and affronted. ‘What is it she’s got? I’m beautiful, too. Is it the hunt? The thrill of the chase? Once you’ve had her you won’t want her anymore.’
‘You don’t understand anything,’ Scott said, shaking his head as if to clear it. ‘Carrie appeals to the best part of me. When I’m with her I remember I have a soul.’
That affected Natasha more than the cruellest rebuff. ‘You fool!’ she said.
Scott gave up. In the middle of the dance floor he dropped his arms from around her and walked away, leaving Natasha feeling hollowed out, gutted. Why did she love Scott Harper? It dismayed and humiliated her. She was well aware of his character flaws, which that little innocent Carrie wasn’t. Living through this engagement was a long nightmare. She knew Scott had used her up—she had let him, was still letting him—but damn if he was going to throw her away. Maybe it was about time she had a little talk with darling Carrie even if she risked having her own life torn apart.
Carrie danced twice more with Clay Cunningham. It was driving Scott crazy, but he couldn’t seem to do a damn thing about it. Cunningham set the pace. Other guys lined up to dance with her. He was drinking too much and he knew it. Alcohol was flowing like water from a bubbling fountain. His mind swirled with crazy thoughts.
Get Carrie on her own.
She had denied him for far too long. They were engaged now. It was his right to have her whether with her consent or not. In his experience girls said no all the time when what they really meant was yes, yes, yes! He could have any girl he wanted. Natasha Cunningham. Why did he want Carrie so desperately? There was even a strong chance she didn’t go for sex. That would be a disaster. Sex was as essential for him as breathing air.
It didn’t take him long to come up with an idea. He could tell her he had something for her in the SUV. A little present. Women loved being given presents, though to be honest, Carrie was no gold digger. But couldn’t she feel his pain, his desire? No, she was oblivious to everything except remaining a virgin. Scott’s anger turned ugly, a red mist swirling before his eyes. He remembered the expression on her face as she’d looked up at Cunningham. What was it exactly? Curiosity, a deep interest? More than that. A craving for something she had never had. Scott only knew she had never turned such a gaze on him. His face darkened.
Finally he had her to himself. They crossed the street with Scott holding her firmly by the arm. ‘No, I won’t tell you. It’s a surprise!’ he said in a playful voice he dredged up from somewhere.
She turned to him, puzzled. ‘Why did you leave it in the car, Scott? Is it big?’ She laughed a little although she was uneasy, concerned Scott had had far too much to drink. Not that he was the only one. The whole hall was filled with tipsy people, singing, dancing, chanting, full of high spirits that would last through until dawn. She couldn’t worry about them but she was afraid Scott might make something of a spectacle of himself with his father around. Bradley Harper just wouldn’t understand. Usually Scott held his drink well, but tonight was different. He was slurring his words. He never did that.
It was dark under the shadow of the trees that ringed the town park. The gums were smothered in blossom. There was a lovely lemony scent in the air. A little way in the distance she could see couples strolling arm in arm through the park, their bodies spotlighted by the overhead lighting. Others had moved off to cars either to catch a nap or indulge in a spot of canoodling. The big question was, why didn’t she want Scott to make love to her? Saying he’d had too much to drink wasn’t answer enough. She was going to marry him in three months time. My God, she should be ravenous for his lovemaking. She was so perturbed tears sprang to her eyes.
‘Let’s sit in the back for a moment,’ Scott said, opening up the rear door and all but pushing her in.
‘I don’t know,’ she wavered. ‘We shouldn’t stay.’
‘You’re not a bit of fun, are you?’ Scott climbed in beside her, turning to her and cupp
ing her face hard with his hand.
‘What’s the matter with you, Scott?’ She shook her head vigorously to free his grip. ‘You’re in a mood.’ It couldn’t have been more obvious now.
‘Thanks to you,’ he said bitterly, abandoning all pretence.
‘I’ve no idea what you mean!’ She tried to defend herself. ‘Where’s the present?’ She couldn’t have cared less about any present. She just wanted this over.
‘What do you know?’ he laughed. ‘I forgot to bring it with me.’
‘Ah, Scott!’ She tried hard to fight down her dismay.
‘You don’t want to be here with me, do you?’ he accused her, his hot temper rising.
‘Not when you’re making me nervous,’ she answered truthfully.
‘Kiss me.’ His voice grated harshly.
She could smell his damp breath, heavy with bourbon. She tried to draw away. ‘We have all the time in the world for kisses. Not here, Scott. Our parents expect us to set a certain standard.’
‘Damn them!’ he said violently, getting his arms around her. ‘You tell me you’re a virgin, but I’m worried you’re not! You females are full of wiles.’
He sounded terrible, hardly recognisable. A different Scott from the one she knew.
‘I refuse to have this discussion now, Scott,’ she said quietly, though she was starting to shake inside. ‘Let’s go back to the hall. Please.’
‘Why don’t I find out right here and now?’ he responded, making his intentions very clear.
She hit him then, a cold spasm of dread causing a real ache in her stomach. It was absolutely spontaneous, her cracking slap to the side of his head. ‘I don’t lie, understand?’ she panted. ‘I demand respect from you, Scott!’
He gripped her delicate shoulders, all male force and threat. ‘Now isn’t that the strangest thing of all! Little Carrie McNevin attacking me.’ With a grinding laugh he hauled her to him, hard and tight, crushing her body against him. ‘You’re mine, Carrie. You better believe it. I’m sick to death of holding off. Can’t you feel me.’ He forced her hand down to his powerful erection. ‘I’m mad for you! What is making love anyway, a big mortal sin?’