She had to be glad her father's name was cleared— but then she had always believed him innocent of the charges levelled against him. If anyone could lick Kim into shape it would be Harold Gibson, but she wouldn't like his task. Kim might have a good brain, but she was doubtful that he had the willpower to apply it. For Harold's sake, Sherry hoped he had!
Aware, owing to her present state of mind, that she must give herself time before making any important decisions, Sherry was, nevertheless, forced to make one or two. As her thoughts turned to Scott again, she remembered he wanted Googon. It struck her that, with Kim gone for good, there might be influences Scott could bring to bear to make her part with the property. She didn't doubt his power, if he chose to exercise it, and she might soon find herself homeless. It wasn't inconceivable that he might be able to force her to sell and it seemed imperative that she saw Dan Cleary before Scott heard about Kim. Until her own position was clarified it might be important that she didn't confide in anyone, not even Sam.
Hiding Kim's letter, she had another shower, hoping it would make her feel better before she made herself a cup of coffee and went back to Bourke. She must try and see Dan Cleary immediately. She didn't ring for an appointment. Knowing how evasive he had often been with Kim, she decided to take him by surprise.
The kettle had just boiled when the phone rang. To her dismay it was Scott. 'You all right?' he asked abruptly, after snapping his name.
'I—I'm fine!' she lied. 'You don't have to keep pretending you're concerned.'
'I'm only concerned for my own interests,' he retorted. 'As you're none the worse, apparently, for what you've been through, I want you for dinner tonight.'
'I assure you, Mr Brady, you'd have the most terrible indigestion.'
'Sherry!' his voice came sharper, 'don't play games— I've had enough of those from your brother. As Ellen's not here, I'm one short at the table, so you'll have to oblige.'
Her heart pounded unpredictably rapidly at the thought of seeing him again so soon. She replied unsteadily, 'I'm sure you must have plenty of friends willing to do that.'
'It's you I want, Sherry,' he was adamant. 'You owe it to me.'
'I—do?'
'Work it out for yourself.' He sounded as if he was running out of patience. 'I'll pick you up at seven.'
He gave her no time to explain about the truck. His high-handedness was infuriating! Yet, as she stared angrily at the dead receiver in her hands, Sherry was aware that two minutes' talk with Scott had done more to stiffen her backbone than any amount of showering had done. So this was one of the ways he intended punishing her for being a Grant? He was going to enjoy watching her sitting at his dinner table, seeing his other guests casting her curious, disparaging glances. Scott himself wouldn't spare her much thought. He would take pleasure from her discomfort in small doses, whenever he felt bored.
If she hadn't been extra sensitive over unpaid debts, Sherry would have refused to even think of going to Coomarlee. But as Kim wasn't going to be there to make any kind of recompense, she felt somehow bound to do what she could. As soon as she learned Kim's address in England, she would write and ask him to send Scott a letter of apology.
The only transport she could find to take her to Bourke was Sam's ancient runabout. Hoping he wouldn't mind her borrowing it, she set out. It proved a rough ride, with dust almost choking her, and to crown it all, nearly crashing into Dulcie Easten coming out of Scott's intersection. Knowing she was at fault didn't prevent Dulcie adopting the demeanour of the injured party. As Sherry swerved off the road to avoid her, Dulcie glared at her, shaking a fist in fury. In view of such outrage and the certain knowledge that Dulcie would never admit to being in the wrong, Sherry kept on going. If Dulcie had shown any sign at all of being reasonable, she would have tossed her for who should go first. If Dulcie had to eat the dust Sam's car was stirring all the way to Bourke, it might teach her to control her temper in future!
Feeling she had scored over Miss Easten didn't help Sherry's confidence, though, after she had parked and found Dan Cleary's office. Kim had suggested she could run Googon without much trouble for a year, and she had been half inclined to agree with him until she realised Dan Cleary might easily laugh that she was even thinking of it. He would discount all the experience she had picked up and relegate her to the ranks of a helpless, fanciful female. Like many Australian men, he liked to believe the little woman was all right in her place, but little use out of it.
Unfortunately, because she had come a long way, Dan wasn't available. He was in Sydney and his secretary invited her to make an appointment for the following day. Sherry hid her dismay and pretended to be grateful. It was her own fault. If she hadn't thought she was being clever, trying to take Dan unawares, she might have saved herself a hot and tedious journey.
On her way back to the car, she suddenly paused before a shop window. She wasn't paying attention to the stores, having been weighing up the advantages of seeing the bank manager before seeing Dan, then deciding against it. The blue chiffon dress in the shop window must have made an immediate impact, because it scattered her sober thoughts and stopped her in her tracks. It was beautiful, she smiled dreamily, imagining herself wearing it. The chiffon was so light and soft, it would suit her small, slender figure while the colour would almost exactly match her eyes. Her eyes widened wistfully and she sighed.
'Are you going to buy it?'
Startled, Sherry swung round, thinking it couldn't be happening that she was running into Miss Easten twice on the same day! It was Dulcie, however, looking quite pleased with herself this time.
'I'm sorry I gave you a fright back there,' Sherry mumbled.
The other girl accepted the apology Sherry had never intended making as if it was her due. 'You should certainly drive more carefully. In fact,' she wondered shrewdly, 'I'm not sure that whatever it was you were driving is fit to be on the roads at all!'
Hastily Sherry turned again to the shop window. The point Dulcie was making was not one she felt able to argue with, and she didn't want to get Sam into trouble.
Dulcie's attention strayed to the dress too. 'That looks very nice,' she shrugged, 'but it's hardly the kind of thing you'd wear at Googon.'
Sherry swallowed the insult because she couldn't dispute the truth of it, yet a surge of resentment made her retort impulsively, 'I'm going out, this evening, and I do need a new dress. Do you think it would suit me?'
Incredibly she was talking to fresh air. Dulcie had disappeared, apparently inside the shop, as the door closed sharply. What a strange creature! Sherry gazed in bewilderment at the empty space where Dulcie had been. Dulcie's moods, like her appearances, were unpredictable. If Scott married her, would his second marriage be any happier than his first? Dulcie might make him an attractive wife, but Sherry doubted that she was as kind and warm-hearted as he believed her to be.
Still, Sherry wouldn't have considered Dulcie so irrational she would have taken off without at least one parting shot! With a last wistful glance at the beautiful creation in the shop window, Sherry continued along the street. She couldn't afford a new dress, anyway, it was stupid to pretend she could. And it wasn't any of her business whom Scott Brady married, nor did she care. It must be sheer imagination that even picturing him with another woman should make her heart ache.
She managed to get home and have dinner cooked for the men and dress before Scott called for her. She had to explain to Sam that though Kim hadn't married Ellen he might not be home for a while. This news, in itself, didn't appear to greatly bother him.
'The shearers will be coming next week, Miss Sherry,' Sam told her. 'We can manage, but he couldn't be away at a busier time.'
Sherry hesitated, conscious that Sam was waiting for her to say more. He knew there was more to say, but much as she would have liked to confide in him, she dared not confess Kim wasn't coming back until she had seen Dan Cleary.
Uncertainly she looked at him. 'I tried to see Dan Cleary today, Sam.' She had already a
pologised for borrowing his car but hadn't explained why. 'He's in Sydney, but I have an appointment tomorrow. After that we'll have to work something out, you and I…'
'Yes, Miss Sherry,' nodded Sam, looking at her so steadily, she understood he was trying to tell her she could count on him. 'I guess, until your brother returns, you want me to take over?'
As if Sam hadn't been running things since John Carey died! 'I'd be grateful. I'll give you all the help I can,' she added, looking so young and vulnerable that Sam frowned, then sighed.
Scott arrived five minutes early, surprising her by coming to fetch her himself when she had believed he might send one of his men. She had intended being at the door, whoever came, but he frustrated her by striding into the kitchen.
'Ready, Sherry?' he asked, as easily as if she had been going out with him regularly.
'Yes.' Because of Sam's presence, she forced a bright smile.
She still had to collect her handbag, and as she went to her room, the low murmur of Scott's voice followed her. Hoping he wasn't upsetting Sam with some derisive remarks on the poor condition of their stock, she hurried back.
The two men were talking, but their voices broke off when she reappeared. Sam said goodnight awkwardly, and Scott nodded and said he would keep in touch.
While this exchange was going on, Sherry glanced at Scott furtively. He was so tall and lean and powerful, he brought an immediate air of authority with him. Responsibility sat so easily on his broad shoulders that she could have cried with envy. He could run millions of acres without flinching, while even the thought of running a few thousand for a few months made her go weak at the knees.
Tearing her eyes from his ruggedly handsome features, she endured the hand he placed under her elbow to steer her out to the car.
'Heard from Kim yet?' he asked, after making sure she was comfortable.
'Can't we forget about him for one evening?' she hedged, rather than tell a lie.
Scott countered tightly, 'Until he returns, I assume you intend staying in the house alone?'
'Naturally,' she frowned. 'Sam and the boys are only a shout away.'
'Several hundred yards.'
'What were you saying to Sam, by the way?'
'Desperate to change the subject, aren't we?' he mocked. 'Did Sam look upset?'
'No, but I'm used to you poker-faced Australians! He might have been?'
'Ask him in the morning,' Scott taunted. 'I'm sure you'll find there's nothing wrong.'
Because he didn't mention Kim, or her sleeping alone again, she didn't persist. All kinds of awful premonitions were shaking her and she could almost feel the tension between them, but she sensed she might only make things worse if she annoyed him in any way. His mood seemed mild enough, but that could easily be a false front.
They covered the twelve miles to Coomarlee in as many minutes, and then Scott wasn't pushing the car any.
'I thought you would send one of your staff to collect me,' commented Sherry.
'I preferred to come myself.'
Some of his stock lay in the well irrigated paddocks round the homestead. Sherry tried not to look enviously at both the sheep and the land. Their arrival at Coomarlee coincided with that of the first of Scott's guests, and Sherry was aware of the curious glances which began as soon as she got out the car beside Scott.
'Now what is it?' he asked brusquely as she looked away with hot cheeks.
At his harsh tone, she caught her upper lip between her teeth. Fearing his anger, she shook her head but refused to look at him. 'I—I don't want to be the cause of undue speculation,' she stammered.
'Wait until you are before you worry,' he advised caustically.
Escorting her as far as the door, he left her with a murmur of excuse to go and meet Dulcie Easten. Sherry noticed how he helped Dulcie from her heavy vehicle with much more care than he had ever shown her. Despite the warmth of the evening, Dulcie was draped in a full-length fur cape that looked like mink. Whatever it was, Sherry was sure it had cost more than she might make off Googon in a whole year.
Unhappily she turned to follow with the other guests into the house as Scott and a graciously smiling Dulcie led the way. Scott appeared to have forgotten about Sherry Grant, and Sherry wished she could as easily forget him. If he hadn't been so attractive she might have done, but she was certain if she didn't see him again she might succeed in putting him from her mind. After this' she must try and avoid him whenever possible, otherwise, she suspected hollowly, she might quickly fall a victim to his deceptive charm. He had kissed her, made light love to her, but she suddenly knew this was just the tip of the iceberg. He meant, in some way, to hurt her, and if she allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of false security by a few kisses, a little warmth, how much easier it would be for him to achieve his purpose. He would enjoy encouraging her, but how much more pleasure would he get, after perhaps rendering her like putty in his arms, from rejecting her completely?
Because she hadn't brought a wrap, not having one to bring, she was able to avoid Dulcie as she swept up the impressive staircase at Coomarlee to dispose of her things. People milled about her, shouting greetings to old friends. Eventually they would sort themselves out and someone would speak to her. Meanwhile, Sherry felt uncomfortable, very de trop. As she stood to one side, trying to look composed, Scott brought her a drink.
'You look pale,' he frowned, yet his eyes were insolent in their exploration, as they went over her. 'I must say your clothes don't do much for you. You looked better last night when you were sleeping.'
With practically nothing on? Did he have to remind her—and without lowering his voice! 'Please!' her cheeks burned with confusion and she couldn't look around. 'Someone might hear you!'
'What of it?' he mocked. 'At least you've got a little more colour.'
Sherry fretted in silence as he studied her face, wishing she knew what he was looking for. He was always so disapproving, she guessed he was trying to pinpoint something else he could criticise. His face was darkly brooding but full of the driving vitality that alone could make her heart beat traitorously faster. She stared into the odd intensity of his eyes as a helpless weakness invaded her limbs, hating him for daring to taunt her about something she would rather forget. She had slept in his arms and responded when he had kissed her, but she didn't want to be reminded of it.
Despairingly she shook her head, attempting to get rid of the feel of his arms, the taste of his mouth, still so vivid he might have been kissing her now. The colour faded from her face and she went white again.
'What's wrong?' Scott's brows drew together.
Distraught, she could only stare at him, and her distress made him angry. With a glitter in his eyes, his hands descended on her shoulders. 'Tell me!'
She was so terrified of the emotions warring through her, she couldn't speak. Inside she was a mass of turbulence which seemed waiting remorselessly to get out of hand. Scott was staring at her trembling mouth, as though he would like to crush it to obedience beneath his own, and she knew if he did she would lose the last fraction of control.
They must be attracting attention. Scott wouldn't care, he never considered his actions in relation to what people might think, but Sherry didn't have his single-minded indifference. It struck her that he could be deliberately trying to divert attention from Ellen's absence, and she objected further to being used!
Her voice croaked but was audible. 'There's nothing wrong. I was simply thinking I'd rather have something long and cool to drink.'
Derision edging the thin curves of his mouth, Scott let go of her, at the same time removing the mercifully unspilt glass of sherry—which was all that was separating them. Sherry let him take it, relaxing the taut grip of her fingers on the delicate stem. In a matter of seconds, after Scott gave a clipped order to one of the maids, another glass was placed in her hands.
'I hope that's more to your liking?'
He sounded so sardonic that she suspected he had seen through her ra
ther clumsy ploy to break up the tension between them. She nodded and looked away from him in bewilderment, shivering as a numb dullness took over her flesh. It wasn't possible she had fallen in love with him! Love shouldn't come like a bolt from the blue like this. Love should be a gentle flow of tender feelings. It shouldn't strike like a sword, so swiftly, without warning or mercy!
Sherry bent her head, like a frail flower on a long stem. How could one love a man one didn't understand? She had never had the chance to really know Scott Brady; it was only her senses that recognised him, as if they had known him for ever, even in another life.
Which must be extremely fanciful, to put it mildly! Much better to consider her feelings and Scott's indifference from a purely practical point of view. He was an enigma. Usually coolly aloof, he could be friendly enough when he chose, but it was only when he chose. He knew women and was able to give them much pleasure, but Sherry didn't think he had ever lost his head over a woman yet, not even his wife. He appeared to have no real regrets about his divorce, and if he had been wholly in love with her could he possibly be considering another marriage like a business proposition? Sherry knew she could never marry someone she didn't love, no matter how urgent her other needs were.
She heard Scott say curtly, 'Drink up.'
This had the apparently desired effect of raising her head and inviting further comment. 'You still have smudges under your eyes.'
As if he didn't know what had caused them! Rallying a little she glared at him. 'The past two days haven't been easy.'
'You're far too thin.'
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