Born of the Wind

by Margaret Pargeter

  He sat quite still, his glance leaping over her, taking in her smooth-skinned beauty, the narrow curves of her waist and hips, the gentle swell of her breasts. She heard his harsh intake of breath and her eyes closed weakly as her body burned briefly in shock. She was aching for him to make love to her, but she didn't try and pretend it wouldn't be a step into the unknown. She was afraid, but her desire for him was so strong she couldn't even beg him to be gentle with her.

  She lay naked and unmoving as his hands went impatiently to his own clothing, stripping it off and tossing it aside. Her eyes clung in revealing fascination to his hard, tanned body until an awareness of what she was doing brought a swift flush to her cheeks and she turned quickly over.

  She felt his weight come nearer as he lay down by her side and turned her back to him. He put his arms round her, pulling her against him again, kissing her deeply before pushing her back on the pillows. From her lips, his mouth traced an insistent path to her breasts, and a piercing sensation went through her as he caressed them gently. One hand began stroking the warm skin of her inner thigh, seductively coaxing, while his other tugged her head back as he crushed her mouth open to his searching, demanding kisses. She could feel the passion and desire in him as he groaned and his arms held her fiercely.

  Equally fiercely Sherry responded, her fingernails digging into the powerful muscles of his back. Reality was falling away from her, as was all restraint. She could hear small noises escaping her throat as her hands pressed him down upon her so that she was crushed against the hurting hardness of his entire length. His lips blazed a trail of passion across her cheek as he pushed his face into the fragrant silk of her hair.

  'How often have you done this before, Sherry?'

  Somehow, she could never afterwards say why, his savage question shocked her incredibly. 'I haven't,' she choked, feeling herself go rigid.

  'Sherry!' He rolled off her slightly, suddenly a determined glint in the darkness of his eyes. 'I don't want any more lies.'

  Sherry stared at him, her nerves jumping sickeningly as she realised he didn't believe her. She shivered as a chill swept over her and hastily she began to pull herself together. She could see how she had been about to make a terrible mistake. How could she, even for a moment, having been tempted to give herself to a man who didn't love her?

  'I don't tell lies,' she retorted unevenly. 'But you don't have to believe me.'

  'I bloody well don't!' he said harshly. 'At least you aren't pretending to love me.'

  'I hate you!' she whispered, so wounded by his savage attack that she actually felt she did. She stared at him, her blue eyes dilated in anguish and horror.

  'Don't look at me like that,' Scott rapped out, his arms reaching for her again. 'Hell, does it matter whether we hate each other or not? Emotions are for those with more serious commitments in mind.'

  Evading his impatient arms, Sherry leapt out of bed, automatically sweeping up her clothes as she ran to the door. Remembering where the bathroom was, from the times she had been here before, she fled into it and locked the door. Pulling on her blouse and skirt with hands that shook, she threw back her hair and rushed out again.

  Scott was waiting outside—she nearly collided with him. He had been even quicker in getting dressed than she had. She had hoped he might have had the decency to stay out of sight until she had gone, but he wasn't a man, she thought bitterly, to be deprived of the last word!

  After one startled glance at him, she turned in the direction of the stairs, but he caught her arm.

  'Not so fast, Sherry,' he said tersely. 'Are you quite sure you want to go?'

  'Quite sure,' she replied woodenly, realising with a start of amazement that he might be asking her to stay.

  'Very well,' his face hardened and he was suddenly a stranger. 'I won't detain you.'

  'I'm sorry,' she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from him, yet angry with herself for hesitating. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated helplessly.

  Scott's mouth tightened. 'Don't be,' he mocked. 'There's never any shortage of women—willing ones, I mean.'

  Sherry didn't remember how she got out of the house, into the truck and home to Googon. She supposed it must have been because the roads were empty that she managed the journey safely, for half the time she couldn't see for tears. They ran down her cheeks and kept on flowing, springing rawly from a bleeding wound inside her. She tried to pull herself together, but to no avail. She ought to be thankful, shouldn't she, that she hadn't succumbed to Scott's demands? He had tried to force himself on her and she'd been lucky to escape!

  No, that wasn't quite true, she admitted painfully. Scott had wanted her, but she could have put up a greater fight. She had angered him, but she was sure he hadn't meant to do more than kiss her; she couldn't understand how everything had got so out of hand. Her own response must have had something to do with it, and under his iron control, Scott was a very virile man. It was no use blaming him entirely for what had happened.

  Perhaps she should be grateful instead of condemning him completely. If his accusations hadn't jerked her rudely from the euphoric daze she'd been in, she might have belonged to him now, and his harsh opinion of her could only have turned his lovemaking into an act of contempt. Hadn't he made it quite clear, as well, that for him there was no commitment? She could never have said she hadn't been warned! If she had given herself to him, he would have considered her an hour's entertainment, nothing more!

  She pulled her hat well down over her eyes next morning, as she went to help Sam. The men were all so busy she didn't really think they would have time to notice she had cried all night, but she tried to avoid any possible speculation. Seemingly no one guessed she had been to Coomarlee until after midnight, and she didn't mention it to anyone.

  After lunch Sam said some supplies were urgently needed, so she went to get them from Bourke. The town was busy and she spotted several people she knew, though she tried to avoid them. She still felt too shaken from the night before to be sociable. It was when she had darted down a shadowy cutting to escape a particularly garrulous acquaintance that she saw Scott strolling past, a radiant Dulcie Easten clinging tightly to his arm.

  That was all she needed! Sherry thought, enraged, trying to build herself up into a fury rather than burst into tears again. Scott certainly hadn't been long in seeking more rewarding company. She wondered how she would have felt if she had spent the night in his arms and then bumped into him, no doubt easing a guilty conscience with the woman he was considering marrying.

  Unfortunately, because she was so stricken by what she had seen, she wasn't able to evade the next person who bore down on her.

  Mary Armstrong exclaimed. 'Just the very person I wanted to see! I rang you but couldn't get an answer. You must have been out.'

  'We've been busy with the shearing,' Sherry tried to smile as if she hadn't a care in the world. 'How are you?'

  The other girl grimaced. 'Packing, getting ready for our European trip like mad, I'm completely exhausted, my dear!' She laughed gaily, belying this, her brown eyes warm and friendly. 'In the midst of all my wild preparations, which Simon tells me every time he sees me is crazy, we want to have a bit of a farewell do. Just a buffet, you know, and a bit of dancing, nothing elaborate, and I've been trying to get hold of you to see if you can come.'

  Sherry saw she wasn't going to get out of it, and she did think for a moment that a party might cheer her up, until she realised Scott was sure to be there.

  'It's going to be difficult,' she hedged uneasily. 'It's a long way.'

  'That's no problem,' Mary grinned. 'I'd already thought of it. I'll ask Bill Danvers from Dalton Downs to pick you up—he's coming with his wife. I was going to beg you a lift from Scott Brady, but I've just seen him and he's bringing Dulcie Easten. We're all waiting breathlessly for the announcement of their engagement, so I daren't ask him to collect you. He'd hardly take kindly to popping the question with you sitting beside them!'

  Laughing, she went on h
er way, not noticing how pale Sherry had gone. So Scott was going to marry Dulcie, after all? Well, she had known it was going to happen so she couldn't pretend to be surprised; she only wished it didn't hurt as much. It would be even worse if Scott brought Dulcie to live at Coomarlee, but at least there would be some distance between them. It wasn't like living next door in England.

  In a mood of brooding defiance, she went and bought herself a silky skirt and top. Suddenly she was determined no one should think she was too poor to afford a new dress. She didn't go mad; she got something very modestly priced, but even so it was nice. Nick Wallace was going to have a fit, but she wasn't going to worry about that immediately. With luck, if she didn't do it again, he might not notice that the cheque was made out for clothes and not necessities.

  She worked so hard the following day, in an attempt to forget Scott and what had happened at Coomarlee, that by evening she was exhausted. She felt so tired she almost rang the Danvers and told them not to call for her. It took a lot of willpower to force herself to take a shower instead. The shower did make her feel better, and, refusing to be a coward, she resolutely got into her new outfit.

  With a sense of awe, she realised she looked quite elegant. The skirt and top clung to the slender lines of her figure as though they'd been specially made for her. She was too thin and pale, of course, but with her hair brushed to a shining cloud and her eyes and mouth lightly made up, her paleness wasn't so noticeable. It was courage she was really lacking. The thought of meeting Scott again nearly drove her to sample what was left of Kim's whisky, but as she waited for the Danvers to arrive, she settled for a cup of black coffee. Any boost she might get from something stronger would have worn off before she reached the party, and perhaps a level head and a little pride might do more for her.

  The Danvers had their own plane and picked Sherry up at exactly the time they had arranged. They were a nice couple and seemed to take to her at once. She was invited to a party they were giving, in a few weeks' time, before they even reached Mary and Simon's station. Their friendliness made Sherry aware that it might have been chiefly her grandfather's anti-social inclinations that had been responsible for her getting so few invitations in the past.

  The party was already in full swing when they arrived and Mary and Simon were there to meet them. Otherwise, as Mary had warned, it was a very casual affair. A large buffet was spread on tables in the dining-room, nothing elaborate but appetising, and in sufficient quantities to feed an army. In another large room, people were dancing, spilling outside on the wide verandas and terraces that led to the garden. The house, on the whole, wasn't huge or luxuriously furnished, but Sherry liked it on sight, for it was so homely, giving an immediate impression of warmth. The Armstrongs didn't appear to have a housekeeper, just a couple of maids with Mary supervising herself.

  Some of the guests Sherry had met before, at Coomarlee, but on the whole, the average age of those here tonight was much younger. A lot of them were in their early twenties and laughed and talked a lot, obviously bent on enjoying themselves. Dulcie, when she walked in with Scott, made a beeline for the more sedate faction, dragging Scott with her. Sherry, who happened to be looking their way at the time, swallowed and turned her back, telling herself, as always, that it would have been a lot worse if she had let Scott make love to her.

  She danced with several young men who couldn't think where she had been all their lives. To her surprise she found herself popular. She was asked for dates so many times she began to lose count. After years of comparative isolation, it took a lot of getting used to.

  After a little while she went to ask Mary if she could help with anything.

  'Thanks, but no, love,' Mary smiled gratefully. 'Surprisingly, you're the first one who's offered. The food's all ready to serve in an hour. You can give a hand with the coffee then, if you like.'

  Sherry said she'd be pleased to and Mary glanced at her, suddenly scrutinising her closely. 'I must say you appear to be the belle of the ball! I never realised we'd a proper English beauty in our midst.'

  Mary was only teasing, Sherry knew, so she managed a faint smile. 'I'm only half English, you know. And since coming to live at Googon, I consider myself wholly Australian. Although Scott,' she added, with a touch of unconscious bitterness, 'doesn't think so.'

  'Doesn't he?' Mary's expressive brows rose. 'Don't you get on, you two?' she queried, in seeming innocence.

  Sherry bit her lip. 'Not really. Scott doesn't like me.'

  'So that's what it is!' Mary seemed to pounce on something that had been puzzling her. 'I was wondering why he was keeping you under constant surveillance. Is he watching to see you don't corrupt our susceptible young males?'

  Sherry laughed hollowly. 'I think you're having me on!'

  Mary grinned. 'Oh, by the way,' she murmured, lowering her voice with a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she couldn't be overheard, 'what's all this about Scott's sister? We read the announcement of her marriage in the papers,' but Scott's keeping awfully quiet about it and I haven't the courage to ask him outright. Someone told me, weeks ago, that Ellen was friendly with your brother, then we heard he'd disappeared.'

  Wondering how she was supposed to reply to that, Sherry tried to stay composed. 'They were friendly,' she said, 'but Kim's gone to England. He might be away for a while.'

  'Whew!' Mary stared at her. 'How on earth are you going to manage on your own?'

  It was a question Sherry knew she was going to hear frequently. 'I've got a good man. He managed for my grandfather before he died, and I know I can rely on him.'

  Mary didn't attempt to dispute it, or ask anything more about Ellen. Much to Sherry's relief, she seemed more diverted by Sherry being alone on Googon. 'If you ever need any help or advice,' she said kindly, her eyes warm with concern, 'you're welcome to give us a ring. It's sometimes good just to have someone to talk to. I know what I felt like after my parents died, before I met Simon.'

  'You have Simon now, though.'

  'Umm,' Mary laughed, 'he's my safety valve. I pour out my troubles in his willing—or unwilling—ears. I don't know what I'd do without him. If ever I lost him…'

  'Hi,' Sherry interrupted humorously, 'you're going on a trip, remember!'

  'So I am,' Mary laughed wryly. 'I guess I'm just too excited.'

  'I expect Simon is too.'

  'Yes,' Mary nodded, but she also frowned. 'He's a bit worried about this excessive heat, though. It's worse farther south, I believe.'

  Sherry recalled Scott mentioning the risk of fire after he'd been to Melbourne. He had glossed over it quickly, but she thought now that that might have been because she'd looked anxious rather than that there was no real threat. She felt anxious again, but some late arrivals claimed Mary's attention before they could talk about it.

  As the party rapidly got into full swing, Sherry talked and laughed, but all the time her eyes were drawn like a magnet to Scott. Dulcie didn't leave his side, but they weren't dancing. The group they were in were probably discussing everything under the sun, which wasn't in itself surprising, for Australians, on the whole, enjoyed nothing better than talking and arguing, but it did surprise Sherry that Scott was missing so many opportunities to have Dulcie in his arms.

  Watching him, Sherry felt her heart contract. He was tall, dark and cruelly handsome, with the cool assurance that comes from complete self-confidence. He was a man everyone looked up to, a born leader, who accepted his place in the world, along with its ensuing responsibilities which would make many other men shrink. Whoever Scott Brady married would have to be able to live up to him. Instinctively Sherry knew she could do this, especially with a little practice, but he only wanted an affair with her, he didn't want her for his wife. As he sensed her unhappy observation, his glance swung in her direction, but there was nothing in his expression, one way or another, apart from perhaps condemnation. Sherry winced as a piercing shaft of it went right through her.

  Believing he would never speak to her
again unless it was absolutely necessary, she was startled to find him beside her as she was helping herself half-heartedly to various dishes at supper. She went so weak, she had no strength to stop him when he removed her plate from her hands and began filling it up.

  'You're too thin,' he said firmly. 'You have to eat properly.'

  She flushed, aware of Dulcie hovering glacially, and stared in consternation at her plate. 'I can't eat all this!'

  'You can try,' Scott retorted, unrelentingly.

  Helplessly Sherry shrugged as her eyes rose to meet his. Her heart leapt sickeningly in her breast, but his expression didn't alter. She straightened and set about eating her meal, forcing herself to swallow each mouthful. She tried to keep her mind blank, hoping he would have the decency to leave her, but he stayed by her side. The silence might have been of concrete, the effort it took to break it. 'It—it's a nice party.'

  He merely lifted his dark brows slightly, his lips thinning.

  Dulcie tugged at his arm, pouting. 'Could you get me something as well, darling? Mind you,' her lashes half fell over her eyes, hiding a malicious glitter, 'I don't eat nearly as much as Miss Grant. My appetite's not as huge as all that.'

  'Of course,' Scott complied smoothly, his eyes still on Sherry. 'Your appetite would never match hers.'

  Sherry felt her cheeks grow scarlet and her anger could scarcely be contained. How could he remind her so blatantly of her own sensuousness! Especially when he was responsible for making her aware of it. She didn't retaliate but made no attempt to hide that she considered him an insensitive brute!

  He even had the nerve to call frostily, as she walked away in order to give him room to serve Dulcie, 'Save a dance for me later, Sherry.'

  Not if I can help it, Sherry thought, pretending not to hear, and doing her best, afterwards, to give the impression she was enjoying herself madly, so that he would discard any idea of coming after her.