Outback Surrender

by Margaret Way

  "Won't I?" She put out a flat hand and pushed him in the chest. "I'm a very disciplined person, Brock Tyson, you devil."

  "Really? A devil?" He locked his fingers around her wrist. "Think about it. I could have taken that further."

  "I bet you do that a lot!"

  "Well, tonight I just couldn't handle it." He spoke with so much self-mockery she blushed. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are?"

  This was a man who could melt a woman without laying a hand on her. "You're the one having difficulties, not me," she countered. "Are you going to let go of me?"

  "No." He raised her hand lingeringly to his mouth. "But I am going to walk you back safely to the pub. Isn't that the decent thing?"

  "Next you're going to tell me I'm different to every other girl you've ever met," she said tartly.

  "Well, of course you are." Ire sounded amused. "You're the only girl I've ever kissed who doesn't keep her eyes closed."

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHELLEY drove right up to the front steps of the homestead, trying to-forget just how long and hot the trip had been. Her big concern on the journey had been dust storms. They were inevitable in a time of drought, when the wind picked up the Interior's precious top soil and dumped millions of tonnes of it a thousand miles away in the ocean. She'd lived through quite a few dust storms, some of considerable severity. They desperately needed rain, but though the whole Outback prayed, they weren't getting any. The skies above her were a hard enamelled cobalt with not a single cloud on the horizon.

  If it hadn't been for the permanent waterholes and billabongs on the station she'd have had to toss the whole idea of running Outback Adventures out of the window. The bores served their purpose, but in the Dry they sent fountains of near boiling water high into the air.

  She wished there was someone there to help unload. There was no use hoping Amanda would help her. Amanda-and she was seriously disgusted with her sister about this-was bone-lazy. In the heat she acted like wax to a flame. It was a real con too, the way Amanda always complained of her bad back and her fears of hurting it.

  Amanda found any way there was of avoiding physical toil, though she spent extravagant amounts of time lying around waiting for life to happen. She didn't in fact get out of bed before ten. She wrote songs. Some were good. She played the piano and guitar, both well. Shelley herself had never qualified for music lessons.

  "Why do you ask when you know money's tight?" her father had always said, turning away as though he couldn't bear to look at her too long. As if all she evoked was memories of her twin.

  Well, at least she'd had one heck of an experience lass night. A blazing bonfire of the senses. Brock Tyson was dangerous, his sexual prowess legendary. If she hadn't been certain of it before, she was now.

  And what of Philip? Philip had gone out of his way to suggest there was a romance between them. She would have said he had seemed driven to do it, probably for Brock's benefit, just to let his cousin know she was taken.'Not that Brock had taken the slightest heed of the warning, if that was what it had been. It might even have been an act of sheer devilment.

  The fact remained that everything was different now-a violent shift in their relationship. Not that she'd ever been one of Brock Tyson's girls. She'd still been a student, years younger than him. And now he had to go and pique her by telling her he wasn't looking for involvement. The cheek of him!

  Yet she'd spent the whole night tossing and turning, reliving the unprecedented excitement of his performance and her humiliating response. That was black magic... She had imagined he had come to her, bent over her, his arms curving beneath her body. He was the lover she wanted.

  She was out of her mind!

  Her head, her heart, her blood and nerves were still tingling from the rain of kisses, though a full ten hours had gone by and she was back in her world, with its massive ongoing problems.

  They'd said little to each other on the short journey back to the hotel, walking in a fraught silence,- but she'd wished the moonlit road would stretch forever. Brock had told her he'd be leaving very early in the morning but that he would take up her offer to visit Wybourne some time. That was if she could clear it with her father. He'd laughed a little as he said it, radiant energy coming off him like rays of the sun.

  For reasons of his own her father had taken to Philip.

  Philip always took good care to be very respectful around her father. Brock was someone else again, proud and spiriled. He would never play-act a deference he didn't feel. Philip, on the other hand was the definitive "yes" man.

  There had always been a lot of drama around Brock Tyson. Lots of sparks. Brock, unlike Philip, had always been ready for anything, but-as the whole community had acknowledged-full of generous emotions. Certainly her faIher, a hot-hearted man for all his Briefs, had had a fierce dislike of Rex Kingsley and his brutal ways with his highmettled, headstrong grandson.

  Shelley knew in her bones she would be in terrible trouble if she ever allowed herself to fall in love with Brock. It would be as easy to tame him as tame an eagle.

  She was halfway through unloading the vehicle when Amanda, shoeless, and in a pretty pink ruffled sundress she'd made herself, appeared on the verandah.

  "Home again, are you?" she called blithely, leaning on the wrought-iron balustrade. "Good trip?"

  "You're joking! It was as hot as Hades, bouncing over the tracks."

  "Someone's got to do it," Amanda said breezily. "But I finished up those letters you asked me to do."

  "Thank you." Shelley's tone was dry. "They must have taken a long time." Maybe twenty minutes.

  "Aren't you a good little girl, doing all that yourself?" Amanda observed, quite willing for Shelley to have all the credit.

  "Why don't you give me a hand?" Shelley hung a few bags over her hand and walked up the short flight of steps to the wide verandah, with its planter chairs set at intervals.

  "Later." Amanda waved, drained by the heat. She flopped into a chair. "Let's have a little talk first. Gosh, isn't it hot? I don't suppose you brought back any diet cola?"

  "I did, as a matter of fact. Especially for you." Shelley deposited her last load.

  "Gee, thanks."

  "Don't expect me to haul it up for you."

  "Dad will do it when he returns," Amanda said carelessly.

  "Where is he?"

  "Shifting some of the cattle. Now.. .first things first. Your boyfriend was onto us first thing this morning. He had a very interesting tale to tell."

  "Who's my boyfriend supposed to be?" Shelley asked, already knowing the answer. The whole family had been pushing her friendship with Philip Kingsley. If it came to anything it would make things easier for them appeared to be the reasoning.

  "Ho-ho, little joke. Phil, of course. If you take my advice-"

  "I won't."

  "Don't let him get away. Just how many guys are filthy rich and good-looking and, more importantly, interested in you?"

  "I could name a few wealthy men around here." Shelley started to reel off some names.

  "Most of 'em are married." Amanda groaned, thinking she would never get over Mitch Claydon, who had recently wed his childhood sweetheart, Christine Reardon. Okay, Christine was beautiful, but she was six feet tall. At five six Amanda considered herself just right.

  Exhausted, Shelley fell into a rattan armchair opposite her sister, fanning herself vigorously with her cream akubra. "And what did dear Philip have to say?"

  Amanda took her time to answer, her eyes focused on her sister's face. After a lifetime she still didn't understand how her sister retained that perfectly beautiful skin while she, a honey-blonde, was always smothering her face in sunblock. Even so she couldn't prevent the tiny coating of freckles across her nose. It just wasn't fair.

  "So Brock Tyson is back?" Amanda gave her sister a sharp, searching look.

  "His grandfather wanted him home," Shelley said quietly, hoping she hadn't blushed at the mere mention of his name.

  "Then
Mr Kingsley must be dying?" Amanda didn't sound upset.

  "Didn't Philip tell you that?"

  "No way! He just said his grandfather wasn't enjoying his usual good health."

  "Why doesn't he say things the way they are? That's Philip and his mother all over. They're so secretive it's a little paranoid. Rex Kingsley is dying."

  "All right. No need to get huffy. The really big surprise was that you actually had dinner with Brock!"

  "So I did." Shelley had a job keeping her tone normal.

  "Anything else?" Amanda stared at her.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Amanda gave a derisive snort. "I'm your sister, remember? At sixteen you had a giant crush on Brock Tyson."

  "I wasn't the only one. He was and remains fascinating."

  "But trouble. He just threw all his chances away."

  "What chances? He's Kingsley's grandson, for God's sake. Surely that means something-blood?"

  "Not to that old tyrant. He's dreadful. The male counterpart to the late Mrs Ruth McQueen, God rest her troubled soul. I bet she's queening it over Hades. These old patriarchs and matriarchs! They had too much land. Too much power. Too much money. It must be true that power corrupts. What's Brock look like these days? Wasn't he sexy?"

  "I wouldn't worry about whether he's lost any of it," Shelley said dryly. "He was always very handsome, very bold. Nowadays he has a real presence about him."

  "Let's call it arrogance. I remember him as arrogant." And he'd never taken any notice of Amanda, which rubbed salt into her wounded ego.

  "Maybe. He's certainly very self-assured, with those remarkable light eyes."

  "They must be a legacy from the runaway dad," Amanda commented. "No wonder old Kingsley hates him. Every time he looks at Brock it must remind him of the father."

  "Probably," Shelley conceded. "Yet Brock has a look of his grandfather. The chiselled features, the height. Rex Kingsley is a very imposing-looking man."

  "But dreadful. So that's it? You had dinner?" Amanda leaned over and seized her younger sister's hand.

  "What were you expecting? An orgy?" For such an indolent young woman Amanda had a bone-cracking grip.

  "Not with you!" Amanda gave a patronising curl of the lip. "All the guys know you don't put out."

  "Whereas you do. You've got yourself a bit of a reputation there, Mandy." Shelley sighed.

  "Don't be so sanctimonious," Amanda snapped. "I'm not worried about that at all."

  "Maybe you ought to be." Shelley shrugged.

  "You just had to say that, didn't you?" The colour in Amanda's pink cheeks darkened.

  "I care about you, Mandy. You're my sister. It might be better if you played a little harder to get."

  "You're saying that because Mitch Claydon dumped me." Her whole body burned with the terrible memory of the day Mitch had told her in no uncertain terms to get lost.

  "He didn't dump you, Amanda," Shelley said, hoping her sister would think straight. "You should stop talking like that. Mitch was never serious about you. There's only one woman in his life and that's Christine. She's a lovely person. She's my friend."

  "Puh-lease!" Amanda groaned, touching her temple as though the pain there was excruciating. "Say no more about her. I've already forgotten about Mitch Claydon."

  "That's good to know, now he's married."

  "When will you see Brock again?" Amanda frowned. She appeared to be tossing up ideas in her head. Shelley could almost see them simmering. "If he's sticking around I might turn my attention to him. You've got Philip safely hooked. It's about time I settled down. I'm the wrong side of twenty-five. I'm pretty, I'm bright, I'm talented." A faint look of torment was on her face.

  "Don't worry, Mandy," Shelley suggested, suddenly sorry for her sister. "The right man will come along. You just have to take it easier. But please don't go around telling people Philip and I are an item. We're not. I don't want to mislead people, least of all Philip, and you're a great one for spreading gossip." She should have said making mischief. Amanda was stuck with that label as well.

  "Listen, do you want to enjoy the finer things of life, or are you dead set on killing yourself with work?" Amanda retaliated. "Mum and Dad are going to grieve for Sean forever. You could die of hard work and they wouldn't pay any attention. Why don't you listen, you silly girl? If Philip Kingsley asks you to marry him-and you could get him to if you gave him a bit more encouragement-say yes. Yes, yes, yes. At least he gives a damn about you. It would be better for the family as well. I know a few guys are interested in you, but Phil's your best option. Keep playing hard to get and he might start looking at someone else."

  "He's welcome to," Shelley said. "I might be trying to help my family at the moment, but I'm not going to commit suicide for you. Getting mixed up with Philip and Frances would be as good as killing myself."

  "How melodramatic!" Amanda pulled a face.

  "I don't think so. People can make very bad decisions in life that have serious consequences. Marrying for love is one thing, even if at some stage the love runs out, but marrying for convenience would do me and my self-esteem a lasting injury. One can't love. to order, Mandy."

  "Oh, grow up!" Amanda cried in frustration, finding her sister and her principles extreme. "You don't have to be in love with him to make a go of it." Amanda frowned at the burning blue sky. "That's not the important thing when you're considering a good marriage. What a woman looks for is security. A guy who's going to look after her, provide her with the good things in life. It's better that Philip cares more about you than you care for him. It gives a girl bargaining power. Besides, Phil's a nice guy. Okay, he's a bit intense but he's good-looking-or he would be if he'd straighten his shoulders and lift his head. Spunky little you could make him do that. If Old Man Kingsley is dying Philip is ready to step into his shoes."

  "You don't really believe that, do you?" Shelley was starting to feel troubled by the conversation. She really wasn't comfortable with this family push towards Philip, though she'd gone along with the friendship because it had seemed to please her parents.

  "What I meant was Philip will inherit," Amanda explained patiently, confirming Shelley's fears. "Do you realize what that means? He'll come into a fortune."

  Shelley shook her glowing head. In the heat damp little tendrils were clinging to her cheeks and forehead, giving her the look of a cherub always associated with the Logan twins. "Philip will never run Kingsley Holdings," Shelley said. "He works very hard, I know, but he doesn't seem to have it in him to get results. He's not a natural-born leader. He's not good with the men. I'm better myself with our own staff. Our little team pulls together and it's mostly for me. Philip lacks authority. The trouble is he's never been his own man."

  "So what?" Amanda looked at her sister in disgust. "It's money we're talking about. Position. That homestead. It's still pretty grand but run down. Frances has never been allowed to touch it, but you could. We're both very artistic. Phil can hire people-an overseer, manager-who could do all the work."

  "He has his cousin Brock," Shelley said simply. "Brock is family. He too is a grandson."

  Amanda gave her a long, knowing look. "You don't really believe Kingsley will set Brock above Philip? Philip is the elder, and he's the one who stayed. If everything we've heard is correct Brock's not going to get a razoo."

  Shelley drank in the heavy scent of frangipani from the garden. "One wonders why his grandfather got him home, then?"

  For a moment the sisters regarded one another in silence. "One wonders why he came?" Amanda said finally.

  "Why not? When it comes right down to it a lot of 13rockway money was poured into Kingsley Holdings. Don't we all believe-and the facts bear it out-that Rex Kingsley talked his wife into handing over all her money?"

  "Why wouldn't he?" Sarcasm from Amanda. "He's a truly greedy, manipulative man."

  "Brock has Brockway blood in his veins," Shelley reminded her. "His grandmother adored him, but then she had to go and die."

&
nbsp; "Perhaps she was glad to." Amanda laughed cynically. "I wouldn't want to be in Rex Kingsley's shoes right now. There's a final reckoning."

  "I believe there is," Shelley said quietly. "Brock has been treated very badly. Philip told you about his mother?"

  Amanda flapped at an insect buzzing around her buttery curls. "That she died?"

  "Poor woman! She didn't have much of a life."

  "And whose fault was that?" Amanda suddenly challenged, oddly agitated. "You've got to want things out of life. You've got to have goals and go after them. You can't get yourself stuck in the bloody bush. Why did she and her husband return to Mulgaree? Okay, so she went back to her father, but she must have known what to expect."