by Robyn Donald
In came Kathy, bearing boxes. ‘Clothes,’ she said succinctly. At Oriel’s bewildered look she dumped them on the bed and explained, ‘From Russell. I bought you some skirts and blouses, a few odds and ends and a couple of pairs of jandals.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Oriel limped across to the bed. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I can get to the bank before I can pay you.’
‘No hurry.’ Kathy hesitated, then said offhandedly, ‘Actually, Blaize paid for them. He’s not going to hassle you for the money, so don’t worry about it.’
‘I can’t-’ Oriel stopped, frowning. Every instinct rose in protest, but it would be stupid to object too vigorously to a mere kind-hearted gesture. And she had to have something to wear other than the things she had on! Lamely, she finished, ‘Well, of course it’s very kind of him. And of you.’
‘Oh, he told me to buy whatever you needed.’
‘I’ll see about paying him later, then.’ The words were bitter in her mouth, but she forced them out. ‘And I must admit I’ll be glad to get out of these grotty old shorts.’
Kathy grinned. ‘Yes, they’ve certainly seen better days, haven’t they? I hope I got your size right.’
She had. The clothes fitted perfectly, although the colours were not ones Oriel would have chosen, being bold and glowing, and the styles were too conspicuous. When it had become obvious that Oriel was going to be very close to six feet tall, her mother had decreed that she should dress conservatively, and, as she always did when it came to J o’s areas of expertise, Oriel had agreed wholeheartedly with her.
However, she was not going to spoil Kathy’s pleasure in her choices, so she smiled as she pulled out a bright ice-pink skirt, full and flounced, and a singlet top, tie-dyed in white and the same glowing pink, that revealed only too blatantly the unfeminine breadth of her shoulders and the even more unfemininely small breasts, so out of proportion to the rest of her.
‘Try them on,’ Kathy urged eagerly, and when she had pulled them on, ‘Oh, yes, I thought they’d suit you. Wait a minute.’
She pulled open the doors of the wardrobes on one wall to reveal full-length mirrors. ‘There, take a look,’ she invited, beaming.
To Oriel’s surprise she didn’t look too garish; her height carried off the gypsy flounces in the skirt, and her smooth, tanned shoulders looked good beneath the wide neck... Paradoxically, the clinging bareness of the top showed her breasts in a very kindly light. And surprisingly enough, because it wasn’t one she would ever have thought she could wear, the colour suited her too.
‘You’ve got a good eye,’ she said, turning to smile at the older woman. ‘Thank you for going to so much trouble.’
Kathy grinned. ‘No problem. There’s some underwear there too, but it seemed wiser just to get T-shirt bras. You’re so nice and neat you don’t really need to wear one at all, do you?’
Oriel cringed at the thought of going without a bra. T-shirt bras were better than nothing, but they were altogether too-unstructured, she thought with a wry inner smile. For ‘structure’ read a little tactful padding.
Of course she couldn’t tell Kathy that, so she smiled and nodded, and hobbled back to the bed to check out the rest. of the clothes. There were several other skirts, all full so that they were easy to pull on, two shirts, and a couple of sun-dresses, one with a small jacket as a cover-up, all in the vivid jewel colours that Kathy clearly liked so much-brilliant blue, bright tropical greens and pinks, and glowing reds.
There were also a couple of muslin sarongs with a fine cotton fringe. ‘They’re awfully handy for covering up after a swim,’ Kathy explained. ‘Oh, and some togs too.’
The bathing-suit in thin hot-pink lycra with a black panel down the front would, Oriel knew with a sigh of resignation, emphasise her height and reveal the bony frame of her body only too clearly. Still, all bathing-suits did.
At the bottom was a box, and Oriel’s brows shot up as she read the rather famous name on it. Anything from this particular designer was inordinately expensive.
‘Blaize said you’d need something to wear at night,’ Kathy said casually. ‘He does quite a bit of entertaining here, and you’ll definitely be here for the end of the holidays “do”. You can’t wear a sun-frock, however pretty, to that. In some ways it’s the social highlight of the season for the district.’
‘I can’t wear a dress from Decadence, either,’ Oriel told her drily. ‘My mother works in the fashion industry and I know how much those creations cost. I can’t afford one.’
‘Well, try it on,’ Kathy coaxed. ‘I’d love to see you in it. I had great fun picking it out.’ She laughed and looked down at her own slightly opulent curves. ‘Go on, give me a vicarious thrill! I’ll never be able to get into anything from Decadence. They only design for race-horse ladies, all sleek and fine-boned and tall.’
Put like that, how could Oriel refuse? Very carefully she opened the box, drawing a quick breath at the bold stripes in raspberry and white taffeta. It was a skirt, bouffant and reeking of bravado, and to go with it a white lycra and cotton top, long-sleeved, high-necked in front, and with the back scooped out right to the waist.
‘No, don’t wear a bra,’ Kathy said, tactfully turning her head away in case Oriel was shy. ‘You don’t need one, and it will spoil the line of the top.’
With resignation Oriel stripped off. Taking extreme care, she wriggled into the top and donned the skirt, standing with outward patience and a stirring of secret anticipation while Kathy tied a sash of raspberry silk around her waist. Then slowly she looked at herself in the mirror. Even barefoot she looked wonderful, the vibrant colour suiting her perfectly, the brash material somehow toned down by the elegantly scandalous top to witty chicness.
‘Wow,’ Kathy breathed. ‘You look-stunning!’
Oriel was astounded. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of even trying on such an outfit, yet she could see that it did more for her than any of her clothes ever had. Well, naturally, she thought, as she turned to catch a glimpse of a wide expanse of tanned, silky back. Somehow, by some mysterious alchemy, the clever little outfit even made her look sexy!
But as astonishing as the fact that the style looked so good on her was what the colours did. Instead of being faintly sallow her skin glowed like a golden seduction, and her eyes were huge and smokily inviting in a face that seemed suddenly catlike with the slanted line of her eyes and brows, wide, high cheekbones and pointed chin. Even her mouth glowed, pink and soft and a little tremulous.
Clearly, her mother’s decree that she dress inconspicuously had been well off the mark. Jo wore her clothes so superbly that it had never occurred to Oriel to question her wisdom, but now, scanning the bright, dashing figure in the glass, she realised that for once her mother had made the wrong fashion statement. In the future, she decided, whirling carefully, she would be a little more adventurous with colours.
‘It’s gorgeous, but of course I can’t keep it,’ she said on a sigh. ‘Not that it matters, because I’m not going to be here when Blaize has this party. And even if I were, I wouldn’t come down.’
Kathy looked surprised. ‘Why ever not?’
‘Well, I’m not exactly an ordinary guest, am I? More like the Ancient Mariner at the wedding feast. Uninvited.’
‘Don’t be silly-Blaize isn’t a snob.’
Oriel looked stubborn. ‘I’m sure he’s not, but-’
‘Then you’re the snob.’
After an astonished moment Oriel gave a lop-sided, deprecating grin. ‘You don’t pull any punches, do you? I don’t think I’m a snob, but you must see what I mean.’
‘I think you’re too sensitive for your own good. Rest assured, if Blaize didn’t want you here he’d have found some way of getting you off the property. He might be the best boss I’ve ever worked for, but he can be a ruthless swine when he wants to be. You’re here, and so he wants you here, for whatever reasons. Which are none of my business,’ Kathy said, briskly getting t
o her feet.
‘What is my business is getting dinner, and I’d better start on it right away!’
But she stayed long enough to hang the other clothes in the wardrobe and put the underclothes and two short nightgowns away, while Oriel struggled gingerly out of the Decadence outfit. However, when she began to repack the skirt and blouse and sash in the layers of tissue paper, Kathy came over and whipped them away.
‘They’ll be better hanging up,’ she said firmly before picking up the boxes and leaving the room.
Oriel sat down rather limply. ‘Damned foot,’ she said angrily, scowling at its thin, bandaged length. It kept her immobile and slow, and it was infuriating.
Still, she was relieved to have the clothes. At least she no longer had to struggle into faded, tight, definitely seen-better-days denim shorts. After pulling on the pink skirt and L. matching top, she carefully made her way down the stairs to the sun-room, her letter to her mother in her hand. Perhaps she would have better luck finishing it there.
But when Blaize came in a few minutes later, tanned and virile in light trousers and a fine Italian cotton shirt, she was staring out at the intriguing roof of what appeared to be a gazebo, or summer-house, seen through a screen of gardenia bushes.
‘What’s this I hear about your refusing to wear the clothes Kathy chose?’ he asked without preamble, his voice forbiddingly curt.
Her mouth firmed as she made an abrupt gesture at the flounce of bright material across her knees. ‘You can see that I’m wearing them.’
‘But you don’t intend to keep all of them.’
Shrugging, she allowed her lashes to cover the mutinous blue of her eyes. ‘I don’t need and can’t afford an outfit by Decadence. I’m sure the shop will take it back.’
‘You don’t know how much it cost.’
She snorted. ‘I know it costs too much for me to be able to afford.’
He sat down opposite her, meeting her gaze with a cool intimidation that made her draw back behind the barricades, her flash of defiance temporarily subdued. Instinct had told her that he was a formidable man; now she was seeing it in action. Uncertainly she said, ‘Mr Stephenson-’
‘Blaize.’
‘Blaize, then. I don’t need a dress like that. I’m a schoolteacher in a small country town, where the social life is informal, and where I don’t-’
‘Every small country town has at least one ball every year,’ he countered blandly. ‘I’m sure the Young Farmers’ Club would love to see. you in a dress by Decadence.’
She cast him a cold look, something inside flinching at the unkind humour in his face. ‘I already have a ball-gown. I don’t need another.’
‘You’ll need it here. I’m having a fairly large party to mark the end of the holidays, and-’
‘I won’t be here,’ she snapped, goaded by his refusal to allow her to get out of the situation with any dignity. ‘I’ll be back at home. And even if I’m not, I won’t come to a party I have no right to attend.’
‘It’s only a couple of weeks away, so you’ll still be here. And you’ll come, my girl.’ He gave her a lazy, totally determined smile, his voice smoothing into a languorous caress that stroked over her nerves like warm honey. ‘I refuse to allow you to lurk in your bedroom like a mad relative in a melodrama.’
She couldn't stop the chuckle that burst through her irritation. He grinned, and the charm was so potent that she could only keep smiling like an idiot.
On a note of indolent amusement he said, ‘If the thought of paying for it gives you any pain, let me. I’ll be glad-’
‘No!’
Ignoring her, he went on, ‘Think of it as a belated Christmas present. Or an early birthday present.’
Gritting her teeth, she began formally, ‘Mr-’
‘Blaize.’
‘Blaize, one thing my mother made sure I understood was that a man who buys presents often thinks he has the right to buy other things, some of which I might not feel like selling. It took me about five years to work out what the hell she meant, but I finally got there, and I am not going to let you pay for my clothes.’
He lifted that infuriating brow. ‘I don’t see how you’re going to stop me,’ he said with smooth effrontery. ‘However, if it will set your mind at rest, I’m not in the habit of demanding that anyone pay their debts by sleeping with me.’
Scarlet, she spluttered, but rallied quickly. ‘I won’t wear them.’
He was still smiling, but as he leaned forward all the amusement vanished from his expression and he was very forbidding indeed. ‘If you don’t, Oriel, I shall personally dress and undress you myself. I don’t want to hear any more mealy-mouthed middle-class posturings from you. You’ll wear what’s in the wardrobe if I have to put the horrors you’ve been getting around in into the shredder. And you will smile and look as though you are enjoying them, because Kathy went to a great deal of trouble to choose them for you, and I will not have her upset. If it helps to sweeten the pill, I'm rich enough for those few outfits to make no dent in my petty cash, and I like to see attractive women around me, not waifs apparently dressed by the nearest charity shop. Allow me my idiosyncrasies, especially as I’m prepared to pay for them.’
Oriel was a teacher. Always comparatively placid, she had learned how to control her temper. The children in her class knew that it took a lot to make Miss Radford mad. But instead of being cowed by this blighting summary of her charms and behaviour she felt temper swish through her from her stomach to the top of her head. Even her legs trembled.
Her hands clenched by her sides as she thrust her chin out and said in the molten tones of incandescent rage, ‘You are an arrogant, authoritarian bastard, and I am not going to come to your damned party or wear your damned clothes if I have to swim to Russell to get away from you.’
‘You had better,’ he retorted through his teeth, his eyes silver as swords at dawn, ‘get there very quickly, because if I come after you you'll be sorry you tried. You damned well won’t be sitting down for a week!’
Shocked, her eyes great wells of stormy outrage, she jumped to her feet, only to bite back a groan and collapse into the chair.
‘You stupid little fool!’ He was beside her before she had time to regain control, his lean, strong fingers oddly gentle as they lifted her foot on to a hassock.
‘I’ll take you in to the doctor,’ he said, unwrapping the bandage. ‘In spite of Kathy's expertise, I'll feel a lot happier once it’s X-rayed.’
Horrified at her bout of temper, appalled at the things she had said, the names she had called him, Oriel watched passively as he examined her foot with a deft gentleness that drained the fury from her in a black flood, leaving her spent and tired. Never in her life had she felt such anger, and for a man who had been unequivocally kind to her, if a little arrogant and high-handed.
Painfully, the words bleak, she said, ‘I’m sorry.’
He looked up, his fingers stilling. ‘Why?’
‘For being so rude.’ His eyes were very-perceptive, too sharp. Lashes falling, she turned her head away.
‘For losing your temper? Why not?‘I lost mine, and said‘ some unforgivable things.’
His hand was stroking her instep, gently turning the foot, moving the bruised and darkened flesh until she made a small noise. ‘I'm almost certain there are no broken bones,’ he said absently. ‘You’ve just wrenched it very badly. Nevertheless, you can go in to see the doctor tomorrow, just to reassure me.’
‘I don’t want-’ She stopped, meeting his limpid gaze with something like desperation.
‘Wise girl,’ he said smoothly, after a second when unspoken words had hummed like high-tension wires. ‘I’ll get the tourist helicopter to come and pick us up.’
Her features rigid with self -imposed control, she asked, ‘Are you always like this?’
‘Like what?’
She wasn’t fooled by the amused expression on the handsome face. ‘Like a bulldozer.’
‘Yes. It makes things mu
ch easier for me. And ultimately for you too. You see, you don’t have to worry whether you’re doing the right thing, or about your mother’s precepts and homilies, you can just sit back and let me do the deciding for you, secure in the knowledge that there’s nothing you can do about it. I always get my own way-it’s a habit I’ve acquired.’
‘You’re an insufferable egotist,’ she said, but without heat. ‘And a tease.’
Deftly he rewrapped her foot, ran his finger with exquisite precision up her calf, and watched with a connoisseur’s eye as she blushed.
‘Men are not teases,’ he said, and bent to kiss the side of her mouth before he left her, smiling crookedly.
She leaned back into the chair, feeling as though she had been shot through the heart. His mouth had been warm and firm and gentle, yet once again her body had responded with a lightning clamour at his touch. Wondering if he too felt it, she tried to take her mind off the incredible things she had said and done by picking up a book on New Zealand she found on the table.
It was signed by the author, a man whose name she recognised as one of the best-known travel writers of the decade, famous for his perception and intellect. The book, she recalled, had been enthusiastically received in some quarters, lambasted for its savage dissection of the country in others. He had signed it, addressing it to Blaize, in memory of days spent talking and nights spent enjoying. Enjoying what?
Who, or what, was Blaize Stephenson? A rich man, clearly, a friend of the famous. Famous himself? His name niggled in the back of her mind, but try as she could she didn't recall where she had seen or heard it before.
If he wasn’t famous it was because he didn't want to be, she decided, staring at the frontispiece. He had that sort of aura, of authority and power, the calmly arrogant strength of a man who has made his place in the world.
CHAPTER THREE
THE day wore on to an end, the sun moving slowly across the great bowl of the sky. It was very hot; too hot. After another hour spent struggling with the letter to her mother, Oriel limped across to the window to look longingly at the crisp blue of the sea. V