by Robyn Donald
Situated as the farm was, halfway out to the southern head of the Bay of Islands, there were far fewer yachts to be seen than at the head of the Bay off Paihia and the Kerikeri inlet, but as she watched two came into view from the open sea. They had probably come up from Auckland to spend the rest of the school holidays here in paradise.
Her father had had a yacht. Memories of long days spent under a burning tropical sun teased her brain, and the strong lines of her father’s laughing face as he steered through smiling, frolicking dolphins.
Everything had come to an end when he’d died. Much more vivid was her memory of the cold and rain in Auckland when they had moved back, and her bewilderment at the noise and bustle of the city, her longing for the heat and the undemanding companionship of the children she had known, the indulgence of their parents.
It had been a shock, one she had never really got over, and she had never quite been able to fit into life in New Zealand. Perhaps, she thought with a wry smile, it was one of the reasons for her diffidence.
Which brought back uncomfortably vivid memories of how she had lost that diffidence to shout at Blaize, calling him names and behaving with all the flair and sophistication of a fishwife. Heat stained her skin as she suffered embarrassment all over again. What on earth must he have thought of her?
A long-forgotten but familiar scent floated in on the air; eager to banish her thoughts, she leaned out through the window and looked along the wall. A few feet away were the round, smooth branches of a frangipani bearing great bunches of creamy pink flowers, the sight of them immediately flooding her with another wave of nostalgia. Just such a bush, only taller and more lush, had grown by the gate to their house in Fiji. Perhaps her subconscious had recognised the scent, which would explain the bout of self-pity a few minutes ago.
Moving cautiously, she made her way along the path of crushed shell, stopping to drink in the heavenly, evocative fragrance, her eyes misty with memories. This had to be about as far south of the Equator as frangipani would grow, and it probably wouldn't thrive anywhere but close to the sea. Smiling, she picked one of the flowers and tucked it behind her ear.
‘Appropriate.’
Blaize's drawl spun her around, but she stayed upright. Rather breathlessly she said, ‘I hope it’s not forbidden to pick anything.’
He was standing with his back to the sun so she couldn't see the expression on his face too clearly, but his voice was level as he said, ‘I can think of few more suitable places to see a flower. The colour and texture complement your skin and hair perfectly. Feel free to pick anything you like.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, struggling to hide her surprise. The underlying note of intensity in the words bewildered her, as did his throwaway delivery of them.
‘Dinner will be ready in an hour,’ he said with a of formality. ‘Would you like to change?’
She hesitated, then told him a little awkwardly, ‘I’d rather eat in my room, if it’s all right. My foot seems to have swollen again.’
‘Of course.’ Before she had time to object he picked her up and carried her carefully up to her bedroom.
After she had thanked him she didn’t see him again that night, for which she was heartily thankful. He might not care when women screamed at him with the finesse of a navvy, but she was not accustomed to losing control like that, and the memories made her writhe with shame.
However, when he tapped at her door at nine-thirty the next morning he appeared to have forgotten entirely about the whole humiliating incident, for the smile he gave her warmed her right down to the pit of her stomach.
Forewarned by Kathy, she was ready for the trip to the doctor, and even endured with outward composure the trial of being carried out in Blaize’s strong arms to a Range Rover in the gravel court behind the house. No one, she hoped, could have any idea of how relieved she was going to be when she could get around once more, and no longer had to suffer the refined sadism of being held so firmly yet so impersonally against him.
It helped if she bent her eyes and attention on the surroundings, so she gazed around with profound interest as she was transferred to a paddock where the rowdy helicopter stood waiting, its rotors sending sheep fleeing across the hills to a safe distance. On the flat land behind the beach were two other houses, neat behind their hedges. There were farm buildings, and yards, a paddock holding some truly enormous bulls and, beside a gate, a large woolshed. Oriel looked rather longingly at the road that wound from the gate to a valley in the backing hills.
Blaize put her carefully into the narrow seat, helping her with that disturbing gentleness to buckle up. ‘OK?’ he mouthed, his eyes narrowing as they scanned her face.
Oriel nodded. He lifted a thumb to the pilot. The engines changed pitch and the machine rose gently from the ground. After the initial butterflies Oriel peered eagerly out, her face alive with interest. Flying over the Bay was thrilling, looking down on yachts like small butterflies hovering over water the colour of lapis lazuli. Emphasised by hills startlingly green with grass, stands of forest rose from the calm enclosure of the Bay to high blue ridges.
She enjoyed it immensely, although she did not like arriving at Paihia as the focus of a crowd of tourists, all of whom, it seemed to her, watched with avid speculation as Blaize calmly climbed out, plucked her from the machine and strode across to a waiting car that took her the hundred or so yards to the surgery.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
Oh, he missed nothing, although she had tried to hide behind an impassive front. Still flushed, she hissed at him, ‘I hate being a sideshow!’
He grinned. ‘Don’t be mean. They loved it. Every man was wishing he was the one with such a delectable armful
‘And every woman wished you were carrying her. So romantic!’ she snapped back, and flushed again at his open laughter, the not unkind mockery in the pewter eyes.
All in all she was glad when she was back in the helicopter, although the return trip to the landing pad had been even worse. One of the ferries from Russell had just arrived at the wharf, and the business of being transferred to the chopper was watched with eagerness and more than a few comments, all complimentary and some of them surprisingly frank, by every ambling down the long jetty.
It was no wonder her cheeks were blazing when at last she pulled the seatbelt tight. Blaize was openly laughing.
But at least the doctor had agreed that her foot was just wrenched, with no sprain and no broken bones. Of course, in answer to a query from Blaize, he’d also said that she should keep off it as much as possible until the swelling went down. Blaize had suggested crutches.
‘Not really necessary,’ the doctor had said, smiling benignly at Oriel. She had not wanted Blaize in the surgery with her, but clearly it had never occurred to the doctor to keep him out, and from the subsequent conversation it had transpired that they were old fishing mates.
‘No,’ she’d said firmly. ‘I can get around easily enough. Would it be possible for me to go back home?’
‘Is there anyone to take care of you?’ At her headshake the doctor had said matter-of-factly, ‘Well, you wouldn’t die, but I’m much happier at the thought of you staying with Blaize. Kathy’s a good nurse. and It will heal faster if you stay off it as much as possible.’
She couldn’t help stealing a glance at Blaize and had met mockery mixed with satisfaction in his smile. It made her suspicious enough to be silent all the way back to Pukekaroro.
Once there she ate a delicious lunch with a host whose deliberate use of charm increased her suspicions, then rested for a couple of hours. She should have slept, for the morning’s expedition had proved that she had still not recovered from the demands she had made on her body the day of the flood, but she couldn’t get that open male satisfaction out of her brain.
It was stupid, for what would Blaize Stephenson want from her? The first answer, her body, was hastily dismissed. Men like him, handsome as sin, rich and worldly, did not want small-town teachers a
s lovers, however temporary. She had seen photographs of the women they made love to. Beautiful, superbly dressed, with sophistication coming out of their wonderfully manicured fingertips.
Profoundly irritated by her thoughts, she told herself that of course he didn’t want anything from her! He was merely the sort of autocrat who liked to be right all the time, and so was pleased that the doctor’s views coincided with his. And firmly repressing the suspicion that this was just a little petty, Oriel got up and limped down the stairs. From now on she was not going to be picked up and carried around the place as if she were a doll. She would walk on her own, admittedly shaky, legs.
That way, the memory of the way his body moved against her, the unexpected sense of security she felt in his arms, could be quickly forgotten.
He surprised her again as she was picking another frangipani blossom. She said on an indrawn breath, ‘You move like a cat. No noise at all.’
‘It surprises you?’
‘You’re so big,’ she said wryly. ‘It doesn’t seem natural. Big people are usually clumsy.’
Smiling, he took the flower from her. Cool, strong fingers tilted her chin. Her eyes closing against the dazzling sunlight, she felt his touch like arrows in her blood as he tucked the scented bloom into the thick, short curls above her ear.
‘Size has little to do with strength or agility.’
‘You’re very strong too.’ Her voice was quiet.
His thumb touched the throbbing curve of her mouth. Soft and persuasive, it was like a lover’s caress. Her startled eyes widened for a second, before the heavy lids fell in unconscious provocation.
A muscle jerked in his jaw. The sun shaded the upper part of his face, but she could feel the burning silver gaze fixed on the soft width of her mouth, and she thought her lips stung. She was carried resistlessly by tides of sensation, partly the drowsy, drugging heat of the sun and the floating perfume of the flower, but more the surges of response in her, the primeval pull of attraction.
‘I keep myself fit,’ he said, his tone distant yet threaded with cool speculation. ‘Speaking of which, would you like to go for a swim?’
I have to stop this! she thought. It took a will-power she hadn’t even known she possessed, but she managed to drag her eyes from his face and step away, almost visibly gathering her self-control around her.
‘I’d love to,’ she said slowly, forcing her "sluggish brain to work. ‘Blaize, have you heard anything about David? I meant to ask before, but we got side-tracked.’
‘Yes, I rang this morning,’ His voice was crisp, almost dismissive. ‘He's line. In pain, I gather, but recovering. Tell me, what on earth were the pair of you doing roaming through the hills with a tropical storm on the rampage?’
‘David decided we should go,’ she said drily.
‘So of course you went with him.’
Oddly cold but once more in control of her reactions, she looked about her. A seat under the pohutukawa tree on the edge of the beach beckoned. She said, ‘Do you mind if I sit down over there?’
‘Of course not. Do you want me to carry you?’
‘No.’ She set off quickly, desperate to get away from him before she made an even bigger fool of herself. Unfortunately he sat down next to her on the seat, surveying her with those hard, shrewd eyes.
A little nervously she said, ‘David isn’t noted for his enthusiasm for outdoor pursuits, so I was surprised when he wanted to come. Still, there was no reason why he shouldn’t, apart from the fact that I don’t like him much.’
His gaze sharpened. ‘You don't like ‘him much?’
‘It's not absolutely obligatory to like your cousin-’
‘Your cousin!’ Sudden anger slashed through his eyes, but as quickly as it had come it vanished, leaving an odd, enigmatic smile curling the corners of his month.
‘So he invited himself along,’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps he wanted to be more than just a cousin to you, Oriel.’
She had the distinct feeling that she was missing out on half of this equivocal conversation, but she had to laugh at that. ‘Not David,’ she said with such conviction that Blaize looked curiously at her, that calculating smile still very much in evidence.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m three inches taller than he is. There’s no way David would want a woman taller than he is. Besides,’ she added cheerfully, ‘we’ve hated each other since we first came back from Fiji. Until then he’d been the only grandchild, the golden hope for the future. Not that he had any reason to worry about my taking his place-my grandparents loved him besottedly until they died, and his mother can’t see a flaw in his character.’
‘But you can.’
‘He's spoilt and arrogant and pigheaded!’ she said brutally. ‘But he is my cousin, so I could hardly turn him down when he wanted to come. Apart from anything else, it would have created a certain amount of unpleasantness in the family. At first everything went well. We tramped up from Whangaruru, and were on our way to Cape Brett lighthouse when we heard the weather forecast. We took a vote on it and decided to head back. Only David wanted to keep going. He had the father and mother of a row with just about everyone.’ She sighed, continuing morosely, ‘I should have known.’
‘But you went with him, just the same.’
‘I had to,’ she said flatly. ‘He’s family, even if he is a pain. And he has no experience; if I’d let him go by himself he’d have probably ended up killing himself, and my aunt and my mother would never have forgiven me!’
‘So as it was all he managed was a broken leg.’ Blaize was leaning back in the cool shade, his expression aloof.
‘Yes. He insisted on putting up the tent too close to the creek. It was partly my fault, because I didn’t really think it would flood the way it did, so I didn’t protest too loudly.’
‘Normally you’d have been safe, but we’ve had so much rain this summer that there’s no soakage left in the ground.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, well, the flood came down when David was still in the tent.’
‘He was damned lucky he didn’t drown.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘It took me a while to find him, and all the time I thought he’d be dead, and I wondered what on earth I was going to tell Aunt Kerry. Then I found him, and splinted the leg, and had to drag him up the hill, out of reach of any more water. Thank God he stayed unconscious for most of it, but I’ve been worried that I might have done him some irreparable damage.’
‘No,’ he said, his hand covering hers for a comforting moment. ‘The doctor I spoke to said thanks to you and your presence of mind, he’s in good condition. How old is he?’
‘Twenty-two,’ she said with a funny little grimace to hide the fact that her heart was speeding up. ‘Fully grown, so he was heavy, but still an adolescent in lots of ways.’
‘Why did he quarrel with the rest of the group?’
She wriggled her shoulders. ‘Oh, he made a nuisance of himself with one of the women, and got slapped down very hard by both her and her boyfriend. After that, I think he was looking for a way out.’ She directed a very clear gaze hlS way. ‘He tends to react impulsively.’
‘His stupidity and lack of maturity could have got you both killed.’
‘Yes, well, don’t think I won’t point that out to him.’
He showed his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘I might well do that too,’ he said evenly.
‘Instinct told her that Blaize would be deadly, using his tongue to excoriating effect. ‘It's not-’ she began, feeling suddenly sorry for David, but fell silent under Blaize’s quizzical gaze, for of course it was his business.‘
Because of David’s pettiness and self-indulgence, Blaize was now lumbered with a resident invalid.
Besides, she thought with a pang of cousinly irritation, it would do David good to be hauled over the coals by an expert. Over the years he’d got away with murder.
‘I doubt if it’ll do much good,’ she said.
He lifted his br
ows but said nothing, and she looked away with dazzled eyes, concentrating hard on the quiet beauty of the setting. Two bush-covered arms of land, sombre even in the sunlight, held the bay in a protective embrace; against one of them a jacaranda flaunted what was left of its showy lilac flowers. To the north the peak of Purerua stood out against the burnished sky; between it and them several yachts moved infinitesimally over the glittering sea. A breeze purred softly among the leaves of the tree above them, turning them so that the silver backs gleamed like small fishes against the dark sea of the canopy. The tang of salt mingled with the scent of the frangipani and the smell of new-cut grass.
Oriel sighed. ‘It’s so beautiful,’ she murmured.
‘Whenever I come back home I think it’s the most beautiful country in the world.’
She nodded. ‘Do you go fishing much?’
He followed her line of sight to the launch, its outriggers pointing at the sky. ‘When I’m here, yes. I enjoy pitting my wits against the big fish. Then I tag them and let them go.’
She was glad. ‘They’re such beautiful creatures,’ she said, unaware that something like wistfulness coloured her tones. ‘So wild and free.’
Cynically, he observed, ‘Nothing is free. Every organism is bound by the immutable laws of its existence. We think we are free, but it’s an illusion.’
‘That,’ she said carefully, ‘is an awfully depressing philosophy.’
He gave her a sardonic look. ‘Do you think so? Tell me, why didn’t you leave your cousin to find his own way back and stay with the group as you had originally intended?’
Her bottom lip jutted. Smiling slightly, he said, ‘Because you’re bound by the bonds of kinship and responsibility.’
She pondered on this for a few seconds, then said obstinately, ‘But we have some free will.’
‘Perhaps a child does, but the first thing good parents do is socialise their children so that they fit into the social system they are going to grow up in. A job taken on also by teachers like you. And when it’s done, any hope of free will flies out of the window.’