Born of the Wind

by Margaret Pargeter

  Sherry seized the opportunity, feeling like a traitor to her own brother. 'Can you think of any particular reason why he should issue such an invitation?'

  'I might if I tried,' Kim replied enigmatically, 'but I have no wish to.'

  She persevered, 'You've been taking Ellen out. Perhaps he likes being sociable to her friends?'

  'That would be the day!' Kim exclaimed sarcastically. 'Discrimination's Mr Brady's middle name! If our papa hadn't gone broke he might have treated me differently, but he doesn't ordinarily let blokes like me over his doorstep.'

  Her own sentiments exactly!—and how true. 'I realise no one knows anything about us,' she began awkwardly, 'but have you never thought of telling Ellen?'

  'No!' he broke in tersely. 'What would be the use?'

  The bitterness in his face woke her sympathy. 'Ellen once said she guessed from the way we talked that we had come from a nice family. It was when Grandfather was alive and I daren't say anything…'

  'She told me the same thing,' his mouth creased with cynical amusement, 'I said Papa had been butler to a duke.'

  'You—didn't!'

  Sherry's horrified astonishment was tinged with hysterical amusement when he nodded carelessly. 'I've always had a hankering to be loved for myself alone.'

  Curiously, Sherry studied him. Somehow she hadn't noticed before he was extremely attractive. He might not quite have Scott Brady's brand of looks, but he was tall and fairly well made. There was an appealing air of boyishness about him which a lot of girls might fall for. Usually, she had to admit, her brother was easy to get on with, but there was something about him which occasionally disturbed her, a streak of recklessness, a determination to gratify his own needs at the expense of others that she couldn't approve. It often showed, she realised, in the way he frequently left the men to do the work while he sneaked off and enjoyed himself.

  As always, she assured herself he just needed time, though for once she didn't indulge him completely. 'Ellen, any girl,' she said with gentle irony, 'would have to love you to settle for this. You have to be fair.'

  Kim flushed. 'I'm not thinking of bringing anyone here. Ellen's all right, but I wish her brother didn't interfere.'

  'He might stop, if you accept his invitation and make a good impression? Who did you speak to on the phone, by the way?'

  'Ellen.'

  'I see.' For a moment Sherry had thought it might have been Scott himself. 'You'll be going?'

  'Naturally,' he grinned mirthlessly. 'I may not get another chance.'

  'When is it?' asked Sherry.

  'Tomorrow.'

  'Tomorrow?' Sherry frowned. Scott wasn't wasting any time!

  'You're invited too.'

  'Oh, no!' she almost jumped as Kim spoke. She couldn't! She had asked to be excluded and Scott had agreed. What mischief was he up to now? 'I hope you told Ellen I had other things to do?'

  'I tried to—I mean,' Kim muttered somewhat uncomfortably, 'I knew you wouldn't be keen, but she insisted that her brother said both of us. You'd better come, for my sake.'

  'I'll press your suit,' she said tonelessly, suffering slightly from shock. 'They'll probably expect us to turn up in jeans.'

  'Ellen didn't say.'

  'She'll take it for granted.' Sherry still felt betrayed. 'You have to realise she's used to that kind of thing. It would never occur to her that we all don't have a rig-out for every occasion.'

  'You're really rubbing it in, aren't you?' His brows dropped suspiciously. 'I wonder why?'

  Sherry couldn't tell him. It was strange how she was following Scott's dictation to the letter! He might have cast a spell on her from all those miles away. Things were certainly impinging on her mind from somewhere. Evasively she replied, 'If you're getting serious about Ellen, Mr Brady might not be pleased?'

  Kim grimaced. 'Am I in the position to be serious over any girl? Maybe I just like giving Mr Brady something to think about? Ellen and I bumped into him one day in Bourke and he'd never been so mad that he could remember! Of course he hid it.'

  'What—what did he do?'

  Kim grinned with bitter satisfaction. 'He couldn't actually do very much. He was with a blonde and I had Ellen. A brawl in the street wouldn't be his style, anyway, though I've heard he wasn't above it when he was younger. But that's why I can't understand him issuing invitations. Is he thirsting for a chance to put me in my place, or is he offering an olive branch?'

  Sherry wasn't listening. 'Who was the blonde?'

  'Kingston Easten's daughter'—he named a leading politician. 'Some dame!'

  Kim frequently used Americanisms, when he felt alienated from the U.K. and Australia. Sherry prayed he wasn't having one of his antagonistic spells now. 'Don't do anything stupid tomorrow evening,' she begged.

  'You'd better come and see I don't,' he advised sarcastically.

  Sherry realised he meant it. Under the bravado, something was troubling him, making him nervous. Concern for him being always uppermost, she nodded reluctantly. 'All right, I'll come. I don't know what I'll wear though. I might need a new dress.'

  This was no exaggeration, but she wasn't surprised when Kim instantly looked dismayed. 'Surely you brought plenty from England?'

  'We could only bring so much,' she reminded him. 'And you grabbed most of the space.'

  'Did I?' He sounded vaguely apologetic. 'You had a dress for the old man's funeral.'

  Sherry sighed at his careless reference to their grandfather, who had left him all he had. 'The best of what I have.'

  'It will do. I really can't afford you another,' Kim said sulkily. 'We lost a lot of stock in those bush fires and the mortgage has to be paid. We'll be lucky if there's enough to pay for the absolute necessities and the mens wages.'

  She might have mentioned that letting their insurances lapse hadn't paid off in the long run, but she knew better. 'Mr Brady might not approve if I turn up minus a sweeping evening gown.'

  'He will have to accept it.'

  Would he? On their way to Coomarlee, the following evening, Sherry asked herself the same question again. She had tried to get hold of Scott Brady. Twice she had secretly rung his house without success, and, yesterday, she had ridden out to the far paddocks, braving the heat of the midday sun in an attempt to find him. She knew he spent a lot of time actually working with his staff, but there had been no sign of him in the places where she had occasionally caught glimpses of him before. She had returned to the homestead with a heavy heart and aching head.

  Sherry bit her lip as she glanced at her brother driving the old truck which served as a car and many other things. Kim was more than passable, his white shirt and tie immaculate, his suit tailored by the best London could offer, paid for by their parents while they had been alive. Sherry had got it out of mothballs, but it would have kept its shape even if the cloth had been in holes. What would Scott make of it? He couldn't accuse her of misleading him, not on the evidence of one suit. If he did, she could always tell him Kim had picked it up second-hand, but knowing she had deliberately set out to trick him didn't make her feel any better. She felt she had gained an invitation to Coomarlee under false pretences, and, knowing Scott Brady, she was apprehensive as to what his reactions might be.

  Perhaps her own appearance would convince him that Kim's seeming affluence wasn't what it appeared to be. Wryly her glance fell to the short dress she was wearing. The few long ones she had owned, she had left in London. Her mother had promised her a complete new wardrobe for her seventeenth birthday, but when the day had arrived she had been here. Most of her clothes had been sold, along with their homes, to satisfy greedy creditors, this according to Kim. Why creditors should so often be referred to as greedy when they were perfectly within their rights to expect to be repaid what was owing them, Sherry had never been able to understand.

  The blue dress was neat—it was the best that could be said of it. Her high-heeled sandals, the only expensive item she had allowed herself to hang on to, didn't quite match, but she had
n't been able to resist the opportunity to wear them. Besides—anxiously she lifted a small, arched foot—what else could she have worn? She had done her best, washing her thick, dark hair and brushing it dry until it resembled a shimmering cloud when she moved, waving long and gleaming over her shoulders. The small amount of make-up she had used added a muted glow to her already lovely skin while accentuating its pink and white tones. She never tanned, although she did nothing to prevent it, and tonight she felt oddly grateful. Her nose was slightly tilted, her mouth perhaps a little too wide. Her vivid blue eyes with their dark lashes and feathery brows were possibly her best feature. They were set like jewels in a face already enhanced by wonderful bone structure.

  'You're a pretty girl. I hadn't realised,' Kim had joked clumsily when she was ready. 'No one might notice that dress isn't a new model.'

  His attempted humour had lightened the atmosphere, though he didn't say much more during the miles to Coomarlee. The plains about them stretched red in the setting sun, full of the wild, lonely horizons which had first stolen Sherry's heart. It bred tough men, or perhaps only the tough survived. She looked at Kim, thought of Scott Brady and shivered.

  Coomarlee shone with lights, streaming out from every window. Again Sherry was struck by the grandeur of the place. Scott had shown her over the house, but grouped behind it were all the other buildings which could turn an outback station into a small village.

  Inside the house, this evening, there appeared to be crowds of people. Having led a very secluded life for so long, Sherry naturally felt somewhat out of her depth to start with. She didn't notice individuals among the sea of faces, but she did get a general impression of women in long dresses and magnificently turned out men. Obviously Scott Brady wasn't a man who believed in half-measures. He intended showing the Grants up and was going to do it in style! Her former remorse at deceiving him gone, Sherry lifted her head proudly and walked forward. Kim was all right, she was the one who would stand out. Mr Brady was entitled to be annoyed if his plan misfired, but she tried not to let this disturb her!

  Ellen rushed to meet them, her brother, animating more lean elegance than a panther, followed more slowly. Sherry glanced at him quickly, then looked away again.

  'Kim!' There could be no mistaking Ellen's welcome. She was wearing green, which complemented red hair, skilfully tinted. Sherry wondered how much it had cost and despised herself for getting into the habit of putting a price on everything.

  Scott Brady was an imposing sight, his tailor every bit as good as Kim's, but he was clearly wary. Some comment on Sherry's beauty reached his ears and his tightened mouth indicated anger rather than approval.

  She could read his thoughts, or imagined she could. Kim, handsome and very properly attired, was doing nothing to discourage Ellen. He was marking down Sherry's intelligence, writing off entertaining on such a lavish scale as a sheer waste of time and money!

  Adroitly but ruthlessly he manoeuvred Sherry aside, noting, how, despite being so shabbily dressed, her slender figure, moving with incredible grace drew all eyes. So different was she, this evening, from the girl he was used to that his forceful jaw set in an unyielding chin, hardened threateningly.

  Thrusting a glass of champagne in her hands, he ignored the curious glances. 'I don't usually miss much,' he grated, for her ears alone, 'but I didn't think it was part of the plan to dress your brother up like a Christmas tree. Ellen's besotted enough as it is.'

  'His idea, not mine,' Sherry retorted defensively, touching her fastidious little nose to the bubbles in the champagne.

  As she lifted her chin defiantly, he suddenly stared at her. She had the soul-shaking feeling that his eyes were trapped by her face. A muscle moved in his cheek and she saw his nostrils flare on a sharp breath.

  'Scott, darling!'

  Almost gratefully, Sherry thought in surprise, for he was a man who wouldn't appreciate unexpected interruptions, he turned to the blonde vision approaching. Swiftly he introduced her as Miss Easten, then left them together to greet some late arrivals.

  Sherry, having guessed from Kim's description of her who Miss Easten was, wasn't pleased to be left in her clutches. Dulcie Easten had quite a vindictive air about her and Sherry was coming in for her fair share of it. She didn't like competition one bit, not even the slightest suspicion of it. It was clear to Sherry that Miss Easten intended changing her name to Brady as soon as she was able and was making sure everyone knew it!

  As Scott excused himself, she purred softly, 'Did you think we were holding a fancy-dress party, Miss Grant?'

  Sherry, off guard, flushed but made no attempt to prevaricate. 'No, Miss Easten, I didn't.'

  'Quite fascinating!' Dulcie went on studying Sherry as though she had stepped out of a museum. 'Do you know Scott well?'

  'We're neighbours, actually,' Sherry drawled, thinking there was no reason why Miss Easten shouldn't be got at a little too. She couldn't think of anything more unlikely than Scott looking her way, but Miss Easten was clearly suspicious of any other female within miles of him.

  'Neighbours!' as Dulcie's voice rose shrilly, Sherry was relieved when Ellen rescued her. When it came to serious combat, she admitted to being no match for the likes of Dulcie Easten. A little sparring, perhaps, but nothing more serious.

  Like her brother, Ellen drew her aside. 'I love your dress.'

  Dear me! It was at least getting a lot of attention! 'Are you trying to please me or Kim?' Sherry teased.

  'Well, both,' confessed Ellen, flushing guiltily, and in a way which made Sherry glance at her uneasily. Could Scott Brady be right in thinking his sister's feelings were becoming seriously involved? Sherry hadn't thought it possible, now she wasn't so sure.

  Ellen put her arm through hers when dinner was announced almost immediately. After finding Kim they trooped into the dining-room together. Sherry said nothing about being here previously, although she could tell Ellen wondered why she wasn't more impressed.

  Scott sat at the head of the long, gleaming table, flanked by Miss Easten and another beautiful woman. She was aware that he had chosen his guests carefully, from people who considered themselves the elite! She didn't have to be brilliant to guess his intention had been to subject Kim and herself to the harder edge of society and could scarcely hide her satisfaction to observe how his well laid schemes were going awry. Kim was more than holding his own, and she wasn't the only one to feel proud of him, Ellen was radiant!

  At the same time, Sherry was conscious of some qualms going through her. It was one thing to feel triumphant over small victories like this, but quite another to pretend all Scott's doubts about Ellen and her brother were nonsense. No matter how she tried she couldn't see Kim being able to support a wife for years yet. It could mean misery for the three of them if he was to marry Ellen and bring her to Googon.

  Catching Scott's glance, she gained no comfort from its calculating blankness. Sitting between two elderly men inclined to be fatherly, she wondered if he had placed her so deliberately. For her sins had he decided she wasn't going to enjoy herself if he could help it. Glances from younger men might be hitting her in waves, but he had nicely isolated her from any closer contact with them.

  After dinner and the inevitable coffee, the younger members of the party converged on the pool. 'It's too hot for dancing,' laughed Ellen. 'Let's swim?'

  The pool, almost Olympic-size, looked inviting. It had been a hot day and the temperatures hadn't noticeably fallen. Sherry eyed the pool wistfully. Her flesh, overheated by Scott's frequent, enigmatical glances longed for its coolness.

  'I haven't a costume,' she explained, when Ellen asked if she wasn't coming to change.

  'No problem,' Ellen assured her. 'Visitors rarely bring their own unless they're staying. There's enough spares to fit out an army.'

  In the changing rooms, already deserted by the rest of the company, Sherry chose a bikini while Ellen flung off her fabulous gown as if it was a rag and flew to join them.

  'Be seeing you,
' she waved. 'No hurry.'

  Sherry didn't hurry, because she was doubtful about the briefness of the bikini. The only three suits she could find were obviously miles too big, so she had to settle for what fitted. Nevertheless, she didn't care for feeling so naked.

  Eventually she had to move. Distant splashing and laughter indicated there was more fun to be had than she was having standing here! Approaching the pool by the longest path, she gave a startled gasp on suddenly finding herself confronted by Scott. Having left him deep in conversation with Dulcie Easten, he was the last person she expected to see.

  So quickly she could do nothing to prevent it, his arm shot out and she was drawn into the darker shade of the surrounding trees. There was little light. What there was seemed to be piercing her from his silvery eyes.

  Trying not to appear too startled, she gulped and asked, 'Did you want something, Mr Brady?'

  'An explanation, perhaps?'

  It must be strange, when she could see nothing else, how clearly she saw his eyes narrowing, his black brows drawing together.

  'I beg your pardon,' she whispered, keeping her voice low so he wouldn't detect it was trembling. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'

  His laughter was a low, mocking sound which she wished didn't sound so attractive to her ears. 'I think you do,' he said softly. 'This particular party was your idea, Miss Grant, and though I'm past the age for playing games, I agreed, albeit reluctantly, to go ahead with it.'

  'S-so?'

  'I don't like being made a fool of.'

  'Would I ever be so ambitious?' Attempting to equal his mockery, she tilted her head to stare at him, but shied away as their eyes met and a thousand shattering shocks raced through her. In the shimmering light a million tensions were besetting her, in no way relieved by the harshness of his next words.

  'I told you the other night, I refuse to make high drama out of this. Despite your traitorous little protests, you obviously have more liking for it than I have, but I assure you this evening won't be repeated.'