'Come again?'
Now he was openly mocking her. 'I'm aware you know nothing of my family history, Mr Brady.'
'I know your father was less than honest.'
'Who told you that?'
'Don't look so incensed. Your grandfather made it common knowledge.'
Naturally! Sherry felt more despair. Grandfather would have had to have some reason for turning his back on his daughter's husband, and his subsequent harsh treatment of her children. To pretend their father was a scoundrel would justify his attitude more convincingly than had it been known Richard Grant was a successful and honourable financier. If only she could have pleaded he had been to the end, what a difference it would have made. She would never believe her father had been less than straight, but others demanded proof.
She said, a little wildly because she felt so strongly about it, 'I'll never believe my father was less than honest. Misguided, perhaps…'
Pure derision lit Scott's grey eyes. 'Isn't it often the same thing?'
'Grandfather shouldn't have made such terrible accusations without proof, but he was an old man.'
Nothing masked the deepening contempt on Scott's face. 'Do you intend spending your life finding excuses for your family, Sherry? Your swindling father has been deceived, your old reprobate of a grandfather is to be forgiven because of his age, and your lazy brother has never had a chance. You have no proof that Kim is any better than he appears to be, and yet you want me to take him on.'
'Will you stop!' she protested violently. 'I might have been mistaken in coming to Coomarlee, but it was with the best of intentions, and I don't have to put up with your insults!' Her blue eyes blazed until Scott began staring into them, as if captivated against his will by their beauty. He remained silent as she rushed on. 'Ruthlessness might have got you where you are, Mr Brady, but don't you care who you trample on to keep your snug little world intact? You forget others don't always have your strength, but even the strong can be misled.' Curiously she thought of Dulcie Easten, lovely but scheming. 'You might be yourself!'
'Not if I keep my eyes open,' he retorted icily, 'and disregard plausible young women like yourself. I got where I am by hard work, Miss Grant. I don't know what line of business your father was in…?'
'He was a—financier.'
Noticing her slight hesitation, Scott's voice was sarcastic. 'Back-street money-lenders call themselves that.'
Infuriated, Sherry flew at him. She could stand only so much, Dear God, she couldn't be expected to put up with everything! Her eyes were sparkling and she gasped with pain as he caught the hand she raised in anger.
Suddenly the atmosphere changed. It was so startling that her breath caught in her throat and her heart began beating rapidly. They were caught in the same high-tensioned spiral as they had been the last time she was here. Feeling trapped, she gazed at him helplessly.
His glance speared her, his fingers biting so cruelly into the arm he was holding, and she realised he wasn't entirely conscious of what he was doing. She was made dizzy by electrical sensations she seemed unable to control, and when his head bent as his mouth found hers, she was overwhelmed by the blackness of his eyes.
Locked in a vice-like hold, she was pressed against his hard body, experiencing the turmoil of a kiss that sent darts of flame through her. The sensation was incredible. In the moments he held her it mounted until her whole body was writhing and she could no longer contain it. As his mouth hardened and his arms crushed her closer so she couldn't scream, tears forced their way through her tightly closed lids.
The dampness of them against his face might have brought a measure of sanity to the man holding her, for with a harsh exclamation she was released. Without pausing to notice the dark colour under his skin, she stumbled blindly towards the door.
In the huge hallway she nearly crashed into a couple walking along it, an older man, a younger woman.
'Good heavens!' she heard the woman exclaim as she rushed past them. 'Isn't that that wretched girl from Googon? Scott, darling…'
Sherry heard no more as she ran to the truck, which thank goodness started up at the first attempt. She was grateful, too, that the drive was wide, because her steering wasn't too good to begin with. Her hands were shaking, she knew she would have to stop to give herself time to calm down. She didn't dare recall being in Scott's arms. When she did, her heart reacted violently, every nerve in her. body tightening so excruciatingly she had to bite her lip to stop crying out. If she had ever thought about it, she would never have believed it was possible to be more frightened of her feelings than anything else. It dismayed her to realise she was more terrified of Scott Brady's kisses than anything else he might dish out.
She tried to be rational. Why should she feel so stirred up at being kissed? Perhaps because it hadn't happened to her often enough. It might make sense to go out with a few men and experiment. She wondered why she had absolutely no inclination to do so.
A few miles on she left the road, bringing the truck to a halt under the shelter of some gum trees. Still on Scott Brady's land, she noticed the difference between Coomarlee and Googon. When he was here, Scott was never off the job. She was aware of his contempt for lazy graziers, but he had both money and equipment. His light aircraft skimmed his paddocks trailing superphosphate which vastly improved the condition of the grazing, which was obviously advantageous in times of drought. He also used light aircraft to see where his sheep were during mustering, which made things a lot easier for his men. At Googon they couldn't afford a decent truck, let alone anything else!
Resting her face against the steering wheel, Sherry wasn't conscious of the tears still pouring down her cheeks until they began falling on her hands.
'Mission not accomplished!' she sniffed on an uneven breath, talking to herself raggedly, as she had a habit of doing in times of stress. Quickly she brushed the tears from her eyes. It didn't do to weep over every failure. She had rarely wept since her parents died, not since Kim had shaken her and said tears accomplished nothing. He had been just as upset, if in a different way. His grief had been the bitter, resentful kind.
Next morning Kim looked dreadful, and she didn't dare mention what a mess she had made of things. Her visit to Coomarlee would have to remain a secret, but that didn't settle her conscience. Scott's opinion of them would be worse than ever, which must be her fault. As she dosed Kim with a powerful cure for a hangover, passed on by an old Aborigine, she felt as despairing as he clearly did.
Eventually Kim said he felt better, and she almost believed him when he surprised her by suggesting that they had a night out in Bourke, the following evening.
'A—night out?' They were having coffee after dinner, a second cup, after the men had gone, and she glanced at him, startled. 'What sort of a night out?'
Kim shrugged. 'Oh, nothing sensational. Just a meal and a few drinks with friends.'
'Which friends?'
He laughed. 'Don't look so suspicious, honey! It suddenly struck me how little fun you've had in your life. You hardly know anyone of your own age, but what happens when I try and do something about it? My good intentions are immediately suspect.'
'You know it's not that!' Sherry said lamely. 'If we hadn't been so busy lately, I might have jumped at the chance.'
'We have been busier,' he replied impatiently, and, as she still hesitated, 'Well, how about it?'
'If you like,' she knew she must seem annoyingly unenthusiastic, but she had never felt less like going anywhere. Hopefully she tried the excuse she had used when she had been trying to wriggle out of going to Coomarlee. 'What about a dress, though? You know I haven't anything very suitable to go out in.'
'You looked good enough when we dined at Coomarlee,' he retorted, 'so don't let that put you off.'
As Kim was apparently determined to take her out, she gave in. She made herself think that an evening away from Googon might do her good.
They were mustering near their boundary with Coomarlee the following afte
rnoon, when Sherry saw Scott Brady and two other men approaching. Her cheeks flushed, despite herself, as they halted within a few yards of the poor-looking bunch of sheep she and Sam had rounded up. As Sam doffed his hat—too respectfully, she thought sourly—Scott spoke to her.
'Good morning, Miss Grant.'
His grey eyes were impossible to read. 'Good morning,' she returned stiffly, determined to be polite.
The other men looked at her curiously, one very curiously indeed, as if something about the delicate structure of the girl on the white horse captivated his imagination. He kept glancing at Scott. He couldn't have made it clearer that he was waiting to be introduced.
Scott and Sherry stared at each other for several seconds before he obliged. 'Miss Grant,' he drawled, still without moving his eyes from her face, 'Barry White, from Sanca Downs.'
He didn't mention the second man, but as he was also a stranger she presumed he must be on the staff of Sanca Downs. Sherry noticed Scott didn't say where she was from, and her soft mouth tightened as she wrenched her eyes from him to smile at Barry White.
'Hello,' she said.
Barry's brows shot up at her clear English voice, its gentle tones reminding him of greener places. 'Hello,' he replied, holding out his big hand, his face creased in a big smile. 'I realise I live in another territory, but how come this is the first time we've met?'
'Miss Grant keeps busy,' Scott interposed dryly.
'Hasn't Miss Grant got a name?' Barry exclaimed, then flushed with what looked like unusual embarrassment while Scott frowned.
'It's Sherry,' Sherry said hastily, tightening her grip or. her reins in an attempt to stop her heart racing. If she had gained an unexpected admirer in Barry White, who appeared young and very personable, it was Scott Brady who could upset her equilibrium at a glance. He looked so magnificent on his huge black stallion, she began to feel the same symptoms which had so frightened her the last time she had seen him. Ostensibly, to hide this, she smiled at Barry more warmly than she might otherwise have done and he responded very warmly indeed.
'You live at Googon?' Barry's query proved that though he might not live here, he was no stranger to the district.
'My brother owns it.' Sherry didn't add that it was mortgaged up to the hilt.
Barry proceeded eagerly, 'I'd be interested to see over your property some time, Miss Sherry. Those sheep of yours look just fine!'
She knew it wasn't true. The state of the stock on Googon, ravaged by lack of attention and drought, was less than good. She envied Scott his better irrigation, the facilities he had, such as being able to remove his stock to other areas when things got really bad. She didn't need to glance at him to see his reaction to Barry's remark. Barry's voice might lack the conviction of his words, but she chose only to hear the kindness in it and to see the genuine liking in his eyes.
She chose also to defy a sense of caution. Never had she felt more reckless. 'I'm usually busy, Barry, as Mr Brady pointed out, but I'm sure if you give us a ring some time, my brother would like to show you round.'
'That really is very good of you!' Barry—it might have been a case of love at first sight—wasn't disguising the fact that he intended taking up her offer the first chance he got. 'I wonder…?' He paused, so clearly considering how he could make this sooner, rather than later that he might have spoken aloud.
'Another time, perhaps,' Scott broke in coolly. 'Now, gentlemen, if I could have a quick word with Miss Grant?'
Noticeably puzzled by such formality, Barry nodded to his foreman and moved on. 'I'll be in touch. Good day to you, Miss Sherry.'
If such deference appeared to annoy Scott, he didn't remark on it. Sherry thought perhaps he had developed the habit of tightening his lips when she was around. Compulsively her eyes stayed on him, rather than Barry's retreating figure, and she shivered.
'Cold, Miss Sherry?'
'No,' she flushed at his derision.
'I shouldn't encourage Barry, if I were you,' he advised, causing Sherry to exclaim heatedly, 'What is this? First you're warning Kim to stay away from your sister, now I'm to stay away from Barry White! If it gratifies you, I have no particular wish to start a beautiful friendship with Mr White.'
'Why ask him to Googon, then?'
She gazed at him frustratedly, nibbling her full bottom lip with small white teeth. Why did Scott ask when he sounded so uninterested? 'I had no desire to be impolite…'
'You feel no such compunction towards me?' he cut in sarcastically.
'Do you think you deserve it?' she asked, mutinous feelings written all over her face.
'There's no need to hate me,' he said coldly, 'because I make a few honest remarks about your brother.'
Sherry went rigid with stupefaction. 'I didn't escape entirely.'
'I have nothing against you personally, Sherry.'
'You could have fooled me!' she retorted, uncaringly defiant, colour eddying under her fine skin.
He studied her narrowly, sitting so easily on his evil-eyed mount, which might have thrown a lesser man. Sherry was stunned by his vitality, the explosive, dangerous quality she sensed in him. She found it difficult to keep her eyes off the picture they made, he and his horse. Horses recognised strength but only accepted it if it was the right kind. Obviously this horse had something of the devil in him and responded to Scott as a kindred spirit. Scott would be good at controlling both horses and women. He must find it frustrating that his young neighbour was proving to be the exception.
Because she wasn't as sure of that as she would liked to have been, she moved under his surveillance uneasily, hoping it wasn't to be an open contest of wills. She was vaguely glad of Sam's distant but comforting presence. She had no idea what Scott wanted to speak to her about, but Sam constituted a form of protection she wouldn't be without.
Scott broke the unnerving silence. 'To prove my point, Miss Grant'—why had she the feeling it was one of the few times in his life he had bothered trying to prove anything to someone like herself—'I'm going to invite you to join me for dinner, this evening. I'll call for you at seven.'
'Oh!' Her lips parted in sheer astonishment .and her eyelids fell. It was the last thing she had expected. Certainly she wasn't prepared for it. Had fate been protecting her by prompting Kim to ask her out first? Forcing herself to look at him again, she breathed nervously, 'I'm sorry, Mr Brady, I'm afraid I have a prior engagement.'
Echoes of her mother! How often had she heard her murmuring that, if with much more aplomb, to someone over the telephone. Occasionally it seemed to Sherry that some part of her mother's personality still influenced her.
'Another engagement?' Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Scott's open disbelief.
Sherry sensed a storm brewing. It hadn't broken, but there was a danger it might. The colour in her cheeks became a rosy flush as her temper heightened defensively to meet it. 'You sound as if you think it impossible!'
He countered silkily. 'It seems a remarkable coincidence.'
She had to allow that it could seem like that, but she was too angry at his unspoken implications to be reasonable. So he thought no one else would ever ask her out! Well, let him! 'That's life,' she muttered, glaring at him.
'I'd like to slap that expression off your face,' he said grimly. 'You must have been a spoiled child.'
'No, Mr Brady,' for a moment her blue eyes were bleak, 'I certainly wasn't.'
'Self-pity, Miss Grant?'
She shook her head a little wildly so that her hat was dislodged. He caught it as it slipped sideways, clamping it back on her head. 'How you keep that rose-petal complexion beats me,' he said derisively, his hand slipping to her shoulder.
Their eyes met and locked with the now familiar intensity while their breath intermingled audibly. Sherry's heart threatened to fail her if he didn't let go, yet she couldn't lift a finger to assist her own release. She felt she was drifting like a leaf towards a fiercely flowing river, helpless to prevent her own destruction.
&nbs
p; 'Who's taking you out this evening?' he asked abruptly, the hand on her shoulder like a vice.
It would have been a simple matter to tell him, but too humiliating. He would only laugh, he might even bully her—the word blackmail also went through her mind—into cancelling her dinner with Kim. Well, Kim probably needed her company more than he did, and although Scott had asked her out with seemingly good intentions, she didn't for one moment believe he would be devastated by her refusal.
'I'd rather not say,' she replied coldly.
'As you wish.' He gave her a long, level look as his hands returned to his reins and he wheeled his horse to follow his friends. 'Maybe another time, Miss Grant.'
Sherry watched him riding away until she became aware of Sam watching her and with a self-conscious flush went back to her work. There was plenty to do, but she didn't complain. Suddenly, as Scott's abrupt departure left a chill in her heart, her work here became doubly precious.
As she and Sam slowly drove the reluctant sheep towards the homestead, besieged in the heat by determined flies, her thoughts became increasingly troubled. After three years she had begun taking Googon for granted, imagining it would always be there. Suddenly, as the trauma of their recent misfortunes hit her, she knew it might not be there much longer. Eventually Kim might be forced to sell, and what then? The future was something she rarely allowed herself to contemplate, as she was doing now. The meagre sum Kim might have left after the mortgage and other debts had been settled might be only enough to take them back to the city. Then what? she asked herself again. A small flat, if they were fortunate enough to find one, in a district they could afford? And neither Kim or she trained for anything. A dry sob escaped Sherry's throat, forcing her to think of other things.
She wondered why Scott had asked her out. She couldn't really believe the reason he had given, she was sure it hadn't been on sudden impulse, yet she couldn't come up with anything else. He had said he wanted to speak to her about something, but whatever it was it couldn't have been important, because he hadn't mentioned anything. Perhaps he had merely been trying to save his friend from her less than desirable clutches. Sherry's lips twisted humourlessly.
Born of the Wind Page 5