He did come, though, and not one of her eager young partners was willing to oppose him as he swept her from them, his arms tightening possessively round her. She stiffened with resentment at the ruthlessness with which he parted her from people who had only been trying to give her a good time.
He looked down on her broodingly, not a trace of humour in his eyes. He studied her new image, her silky skirt and matching top, its low cleavage exposing the shadowed cleft between her pale breasts. Then his glance rose higher to take in her air of nervous delicacy, the extreme beauty of her face. 'I like your—dress,' he said softly, his eyes on her breasts again. 'Is it new?'
'How did you guess?' she asked acidly, knowing her heart was accelerating visibly and furious that she couldn't control it.
'You could do with a whole new wardrobe.' He still spoke softly but his eyes narrowed. 'Would you let me supply it?'
'No, thank you,' she managed coolly, thinking how wrong she had been. She had thought she wouldn't see him again, but it seemed he didn't give up easily. Well, if he thought he could buy her, he could think again!
'You were always pretty,' he mused, as if he hadn't heard her, 'but tonight you're beautiful. With a little more grooming, jewellery and the right clothes, you'd be all any man could want. Even without,' he observed mockingly, 'no man in his right senses would ever look at anyone else.'
He must be the devil incarnate, that even a few such words from him should make her feel weak. For the second time that evening he had succeeded in depriving her of strength. 'I'm not interested in being someone's mistress,' she retaliated, the colour in her cheeks flaring afresh.
His mouth quirked, but what with, it was difficult to tell. He made no comment on her terse little statement, but just when she began hoping he would simply dance with her and let her go, he attacked sardonically from another direction.
'You appear to be enjoying yourself this evening.'
Biting her lip on a cutting retort, Sherry restrained herself to murmuring tightly, 'Any reason why I shouldn't?'
He gave her a hard stare. 'Are you looking for someone to provide the help you rejected from me?'
The taunt made her flush angrily. 'That's not fair!' she said fiercely. 'I still have the cook you sent and I didn't refuse your help in buying a truck.'
Curtly he retorted, 'I didn't fall down on my side of the bargain. If I asked for repayment it wasn't in kind, but even so, you declined to give it.'
'Was it repayment you were asking—at Coomarlee?' she asked, equally coldly.
'Ah,' Scott smiled savagely, 'I wondered when you'd get round to that.'
'What did you expect?' she asked bitterly, her voice rising.'
'Shut up,' he muttered, beginning to dance with her in earnest, sweeping her along with the cool mastery she found so attractive yet irritating. 'You're attracting attention. We don't have to fight here.'
He pulled her closer and Sherry fought him, but only for a few seconds. Her body burned with resentment, but she surrendered to an irresistible desire to be close to him again. Every time she saw him might be the last. Now, as his hand moved across the silken skin of her back, a feeling of desperation replaced that of anger, making her surrender weakly as his cheek touched her hair. The powerful arms holding her tightened and she felt him moving in on her as he heard her indrawn breath.
They looked at each other once and kept on dancing. Sherry was hardly aware of anyone else in the room. Her eyes closed, her body following the movements of his as if they were one, and her pulses leapt whenever Scott's mouth feathered her cheek. She couldn't think, she could only feel, and she didn't care what she was betraying. Aching with love for him as she was, it didn't seem to matter whether he cared one iota for her or not. She was only aware of her body melting sensuously and of the answering emotion she could feel in him.
When the music stopped, still without speaking, Scott guided her out along the terrace, not far from the house but far enough to escape curious eyes. When she realised the direction he was taking her, she held back, not wanting to go anywhere with him.
On a curt breath, he muttered, 'Behave' yourself, Sherry. Are you bent on attracting attention? If you must quarrel with me, wait till we get out of sight.'
'Have you ever thought Miss Easten might be planning my demise?' she choked, as darkness enclosed them.
'Why should she?' he asked arrogantly, steering her under the shadowy, concealing branches of an obliging tree.
'You brought her, didn't you?' Sherry pointed out tersely. 'It would seem you enjoy having us all on…'
'Yes?' His eyes gleamed with anger as she hesitated. 'What is it I enjoy with such diabolical pleasure as you imply?'
'Having us all on a string!' she cried recklessly.
'For all the good it does me!' he retorted enigmatically, staring at her in the dim light. 'And, for your information, I was asked to bring Dulcie along, and, as she trotted up just as I was about to refuse, I found myself in what's commonly known as a bit of a quandary.'
'I didn't think you were a man frightened to speak his mind,' Sherry said mutinously. She could see Dulcie gliding along, insinuating herself with all the guile of a beautiful, poisonous snake, but she couldn't forgive him for capitulating.
'Over anything I consider important, I generally do,' he said repressively. 'If it hadn't been that Simon Armstrong is a friend, I shouldn't have been here this evening, but as I was coming it would have been rather churlish to refuse anyone a lift.'
'Especially the girl you're hoping to marry!' Sherry felt driven to let him know he wasn't fooling her. For some reason it was suiting him to pretend Dulcie meant nothing to him, but she knew better. It made her feel sick, but then, she supposed, sickness was all a part of unrequited love. That had such an old-fashioned ring to it that a wave of mirthless laughter went through her, to be stilled as Scott said curtly, 'I don't intend marrying Dulcie Easten.'
Sherry's throat clogged in surprise. 'You—don't?'
'No.'
'But,' she trembled as his steely fingers bit into her arm, 'you gave the impression…'
He interrupted cynically, 'Haven't we had this conversation before? Have I ever said anything definite about marrying anybody? People, yourself apparently included, frequently jump to the wrong conclusions, which I've neither the time or inclination to deny. Most personable males have this kind of thing to endure and I don't let it bother me, but it seems to be bothering you.'
Sherry didn't care about rumours, but she found what Scott was telling her incredible. Her heart leapt with relief and gladness, for a moment allowed to be rampant. Then her brief glow of happiness faded. That Scott wasn't marrying Dulcie Easten didn't mean he had someone else in mind.
'Maybe one day you'll meet the right girl,' she whispered bleakly, 'and marry her.'
'When I meet someone who cares for me enough,' he replied, his eyes piercing the darkness to her taut face.
She glanced up, blue eyes widening. 'What would you consider enough?'
'You mean how would I measure the depth of her feelings?'
Nodding miserably, Sherry clenched her hands. She felt he was getting at her, choosing his words deliberately to mock her, knowing how she felt about him.
'I'd like her to be willing to sacrifice everything,' the cool, taunting voice went on, 'without making stipulations, or holding anything back.'
'You're asking a lot,' she whispered hollowly, in no doubt as to what he was hinting at.
Cruelly he caught her to him, his hands insistent on her waist, his breath on her face. She could feel a certain puzzling tension in him, despite his crisp rejoiner. 'She would be amply rewarded.'
Her eyes fell in front of his fixed stare as she tried to pull herself together, trembling. 'I can't believe a man like you would ask someone to prove their love, like the hero of a second-rate novel.'
'You're getting everything out of context,' he snapped. 'All I'm asking for is mutual trust.'
'And afterwards you would la
ugh and conveniently forget any promises you made,' Sherry said coldly.
CHAPTER TEN
They stood staring at each other like enemies, under the sweeping branches of the tree. Then, with a muttered curse, Scott's mouth found hers and she was drawn tightly against his hard, lean body. His lips were hard and cool, taking everything but giving nothing. He ravaged her mouth, his arms pressing her possessively closer, his palms flat on the heated flesh of her back as passion flamed and leapt between them.
Sherry thought he murmured something that sounded like, 'I've got to have you,' but she couldn't be sure. Her pulses were beating so loudly she couldn't clearly hear anything else. A hungry urgency invaded her, increasing in depth until she panicked, becoming afraid. She began pulling away, trying desperately to free herself.
He let her fight until all her strength had gone and she lay spent against him, catching her breath in great sobbing gasps of fear and shame.
'Do you still deny you want me?' he asked thickly.
'No,' she gulped distractedly, 'but I won't have an affair with you.'
'You believe I'd ask you to?'
'Yes.'
'Then you don't even know me,' he said harshly. 'And until your opinion of me changes, we might be better apart.' He kissed her mouth once more, forcing it open beneath his before pushing her away, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 'Run along,' he said derisively, 'and concentrate on growing up. Until then you won't be much use to anyone.'
Sherry was startled the following afternoon—if any emotion could penetrate the raw state of numbness she was in—when Dulcie turned up at Googon. When Leda came to tell her she had a visitor, she had to ask twice before she could feel convinced it really was Miss Easten visiting their humble abode.
'Where is she now?' she asked quickly, following the little Aborigine girl from the shearing sheds.
'I put her in the living-room,' Leda grinned, 'but she doesn't look too happy, Miss Sherry.'
Dulcie didn't. She was sitting on the edge of a chair looking about her disdainfully. Sherry wondered what could have brought her here just a few hours after a party that had gone on until almost dawn, when normally, Sherry suspected, Dulcie would have still been in bed.
She hadn't long to wait to find out.
'I saw you drop this, last night,' Dulcie quite blatantly drew from her bag a handkerchief Sherry had never seen before. 'It's exquisite, isn't it?' She gave the impression of being quite overcome by admiration as she held out the lace-edged square. 'I was passing and I guessed how miserable you must be, believing you'd lost it.'
For a moment Sherry gazed at it, frowning, then she said quietly, 'I'm afraid you've had a wasted journey. It isn't mine.'
Dulcie put on a charming little act of consternation while Sherry waited patiently to hear the true purpose of her visit. Leda brought coffee, and she poured it carefully, hoping Dulcie would soon get to the point and leave. Then ashamed of such inhospitable thoughts towards someone who hadn't really done her any harm, she forced a warmer note in her voice.
'It was good of you to go to so much trouble, anyway.'
They both knew the handkerchief was an excuse, and Sherry was relieved when, after tucking it back in her bag and accepting the cup of coffee Sherry passed her, Dulcie said, more truthfully this time, 'I really came to speak to you about Scott.'
'I see,' Sherry said noncommittally. She didn't want to even think about Scott, after last night, but she could see Dulcie had something on her mind and wasn't going to be satisfied until she had at least given it an airing.
'Scott's always been fond of me,' Dulcie began coolly.
'Yes,' Sherry murmured.
'Lately, though,' Dulcie continued pensively, 'he's been different.'
'How—different?' Sherry asked cautiously.
Dulcie's lips set sulkily. 'He's been neglecting me the tiniest little bit, and I don't like it.'
Sherry sighed, wondering exactly what Dulcie was up to. 'I'm not sure why you're telling me this, Miss Easten.'
'He needs a wife, you know,' Dulcie said suddenly. 'His first wife put him off marriage, but I think he'll get round to trying again—with me, if you don't interfere.'
It was a hot day, but Sherry felt herself go cold. Dulcie, had she but known it, had nothing to fear from her. 'How could anything I do make any difference?' she asked tonelessly.
For once Dulcie seemed ill at ease, then she frowned more belligerently. 'Well, you often appear to be in need of assistance. You take up a lot of his time and I have a feeling, that for some reason or another, he imagines he's responsible for what happens to you. I think,' she concluded impatiently, 'it has something to do with this mysterious business of his sister and your brother.'
Sherry wasn't going into that! 'I'm sure you're mistaken,' she retorted coldly. 'Since Kim went back to England, Scott has helped me a few times, but he does the same for other people. I think you'll find that from now on I'll be able to manage without further assistance.'
'Oh, good!' Dulcie immediately looked happier. 'I'm glad to hear it.' She glanced quickly at her watch, revealing that she was thinking of leaving. 'Did you know that Scott's off to a conference in Melbourne today? He told me last night, and I'm wondering if he was hinting' that I should join him.'
Suddenly Sherry felt sorry for the other girl as well as herself. Scott had dallied with them both without having any serious intentions, but if Dulcie wasn't aware of that then it certainly wasn't her place to tell her. Underneath Dulcie's hard sophistication, she wasn't sure of Scott at all, which must be why she was here today, groping blindly for the kind of assurance only he could give. Sherry didn't think Scott had been lying, in the Armstrongs' garden, when he had said emphatically that he wouldn't be marrying Dulcie, but it might be kinder to let her continue living in a fool's paradise, as long as she was able.
When Dulcie had gone, Sherry returned to the work she had abandoned to talk to her. She didn't feel happy, but she did have an increasing sense of righteousness to comfort her. Dulcie had hinted, before she left, at having slept with Scott, and Sherry guessed she wouldn't be the only one to have succumbed to his blatant charm. If she had given in to him, she would have become just another in a long line of women who imagined they had an important place in his life but whom he discarded with eventual contempt.
It amazed Sherry that after a week, with such a record of his callousness continually before her, she missed him so much that she almost craved for the sight of him. Trying to counteract this with hard work made her grow so thin that even Sam began looking at her in alarm. To alleviate his anxiety, which she realised he might be too embarrassed to put in words, she took to using a little blusher on her cheeks and tried to eat more. Sometimes she wished the Armstrongs hadn't been away. There were times when she would have given anything to have been able to talk to Mary, even about something as predictable as the Australian weather.
She nearly dropped when, one morning, Mary rang her. Thinking, incredibly, that she must be ringing from London, she was surprised again when Mary told her she was still at home.
'We haven't gone,' she confessed. 'At the last moment Simon balked. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that there might be a fire. He was extremely worried, not only because of our place, and he said if there was an outbreak anywhere in the state he would feel like a rat deserting a sinking ship. I'll admit I was disappointed, but I've too healthy a respect for Simon's intuition to disregard. it altogether. And you'll have seen, this morning, he's been proved right. That's why I'm ringing.'
Sherry drew a sharp breath, overwhelmed by a nameless dread, worse than the usual reaction to the news of fire. She clutched the receiver tightly. 'I hadn't heard anything, I've been out since before six. Whereabouts have the fires started?'
'Farther south, nearer Melbourne.'
'Melbourne?' Now Sherry understood her terrible feeling of dread. 'Scott's down there!'
'Yes,' Mary said grimly. 'Simon's been trying to get hold of him, but the li
nes are so busy he hasn't been able to get through.'
'Will he be able to later—'
'Perhaps—' Mary hesitated, as if sensing Sherry's extreme anxiety. 'The thing is, if the fires aren't controlled, the lines will become blocked with people enquiring about relations and friends, and we might have to wait, which isn't easy. Simon's talking of going to Melbourne himself.'
'I wish I could,' Sherry said helplessly.
'You're better where you are,' Mary retorted almost sharply. 'And try not to worry too much. Would you like to come and stay with us?'
'Oh, no,' Sherry exclaimed. 'I mean, it's kind of you, but I couldn't leave Googon. I'd be grateful, though, if you'd give me a ring as soon as you have news of Scott.'
If Mary thought it an odd request, she didn't say so, and Sherry suspected Mary had known all along that she loved him.
The period after that was one of the worst Sherry had ever lived through. All Simon discovered was that Scott, along with hundreds of others, was helping to fight the terrible fires which were spreading rapidly, causing terrifying devastation. Mary kept in constant touch. Simon, she said, was working night and day, organising fire patrols in the district and assisting wherever he could. They heard horrific stories of men fighting until they were exhausted against the racing, uncontrollable flames and returning home to find their families lost, together with their property and stock. There were so many incidents of heroism, self-sacrifice and endurance that no one could fail to be moved by it. Sherry felt the whole nation must be weeping, yet at the same time incredibly proud.
Eventually the degree of worry she experienced over the fires and Scott became so extreme that when news came that he had been injured, she almost passed out.
The first she knew of it was when Mary and Simon flew to Googon to see her. They were in the living-room when she suddenly realised they had something to tell her. 'It's about Scott,' Mary said gently, when she asked anxiously what it was.
'Where is he?' Sherry trembled, going quite white.
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