by Jane Corrie
He was a man used to having his own way, that much she knew, and it looked as if fate had dealt kindly with her by shielding her from whatever persuasive methods he would bring into force to gain her acquiescence.
Her thoughts roamed on, and suddenly a thought came that made her sit up sharply and eclipsed all else from her mind. Carl Elton had brought her from England! He must have known her mother and brother ! She felt a surge of hope flow through her.
He would be the only one who could unlock the door to the past that had stubbornly remained closed against all her efforts to bring it to life again.
Oh, why hadn't she questioned him that day? If she had had, her wits about her, she would have realised that he had known her before she had met her uncle. He'd told her so, hadn't he? and she had just stood staring at him.
Her brow furrowed. He had said something about giving her a week to make up her mind. Her soft lips twisted as she recalled what it was she was supposed to consider. Well, that was alost cause for a start, she told herself grimly, but at least it meant she would be seeing him again, and this time she would be in full command of her senses, not only to answer questions but to ask a few herself !
CHAPTER SIX
THE following morning, Uncle Patrick lingered over his breakfast, and it occurred to Teresa that he had something on his mind.
It appeared that he had also done some thinking during the night, for after downing his second cup of coffee he said abruptly: 'You don't owe Elton anything, girl. Jist you remember that. I did as I said I'd do—gave back that land, like you wanted.' He stared at her under frowning brows. 'So you've paid your passage, like. As I said afore, that land's worth more than a dozen trips out, an' I ain't taken a penny piece for it, nor shall,' he added fiercely. 'From now on we pay our way.'
Teresa wondered whether he was trying to tell her that there was no need for her to see Carl Elton again, and was grateful for the fact that he didn't actually say so, for she would have hated to have gone against his wishes in-this, as she most certainly was going to see him again.
They were very busy that morning in the office, and although Teresa worked much as usual, she was very preoccupied with her thoughts. So much so that Michael, after watching her for a short while, asked, 'Everything okay, Teresa?'
At that precise moment Teresa had been thinking that a week could be a very long time, particularly when it concerned your future, or in her case her
past, and his question had to be thought about before she answered. She smiled brightly at him. 'Yes, thank you, Michael.'
However, he was not entirely convinced by this answer, and said solemnly, 'I think it's about time you had a change of routine. How about attending the local hop with me tomorrow?'
Teresa grinned at him; she would like that very much, she thought, and considering that Michael didn't care for social gatherings, she was well aware that he was making a concession in her case. 'Are you sure you want to go?' she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
He grinned back at her. 'I'm willing to risk it if you are.'
'Willing to risk what?' queried Mr Oates as he joined them.
'The local hop,' answered Michael. 'You know, Dad, where you used to go in your courting days.'
Teresa flushed and wondered how Mr Oates was going to take to the idea of his son courting her, which was what Michael had more or less implied.
Michael's father looked from his son's grinning countenance to Teresa's flushed one and raised his sandy-coloured brows, then grinned at them. 'In my day, it wasn't always certain we'd come out with the same young lady we went in with. You take good care of her, Mike,' he added, gravely now, to his son. 'There's a gang of shearers expected this weekend, and those boys can be rough.'
'On second thoughts,' murmured Michael, 'I'll take her out to Bathurst, and we'll do the thing in style—dinner and dance, how about that?' he asked Teresa.
Before she could answer Mr Oates said, 'Now that's a much better idea,' and turning to her said, 'You'll like that, Teresa.'
Having had her mind made up for her, all she had to do was nod her acceptance; there was no other course left open to her. Mr Oates then had no objection to Michael taking an interest in her, she thought as she watched him lumber back to his office.
Within a few minutes he was back again. 'Dang me! ' he exclaimed with a rueful grin, 'I forgot what I came in for. I've got Bill Stokes on the line, Mike, he wants a word with you on pig prices. I told him you were up at Comba last week.'
Teresa watched the two men walk back to Mr Oates' office with mixed feelings. She wasn't sure whether to be pleased or worried over Michael's sudden declared interest in her. She didn't feel ready yet to enter into the romantic stakes again. There were too many loose ends left to tie up, and she wanted to be absolutely sure that she wouldn't repeat what must have been a narrow escape with Carl Elton.
The phone on her desk rang then, and she answered it 'I'll pick you up straight from work this evening,' was the brusque message, and before Teresa could answer there came the familiar buzzing that told her the caller had rung off.
She replaced the receiver with hands that trembled slightly. She was in no doubt as to who had called. It appeared she wasn't the only one who thought a week was too long. Carl Elton thought so too, apparently.
Her fingers were still a little unsteady as she
placed some, paper in her typewriter. One part of her was relieved—the other apprehensive.
Teresa saw the car as soon as she left the office, and wished that Michael hadn't decided to walk a short way with her. She knew she ought to have said that she was meeting someone, and who that someone was, but Michael would have attempted to stop her, or failing that would have waited for Carl Elton to show up and had a few words with him, and this wouldn't exactly have started the meeting off on a friendly basis.
It would be much better, Teresa reasoned, if Michael was caught off his guard. Then with a little luck he would accept the situation.
It did not look at first as if her reasoning had proved correct, for as the sleek car drew up alongside them Michael, with a gesture that was typically protective, stood in front of Teresa as he turned to face Carl Elton, who had now pulled up and sat waiting for her.
`It's all right Michael,' she said placatingly. 'I want to talk to Mr Elton; please don't make a scene,' she added softly as her anxious eyes met his scowling ones.
Michael's eyebrows rose as he said gently, 'You're sure you know what you're doing, Teresa?'
With a slight flush, she nodded firmly. 'Yes,' she said, adding in a voice that left no room for doubt, 'I'll see you tomorrow, Michael,' and she walked towards the car.
There was no doubt that Carl Elton had taken full note of this little byplay between her and Michael, and his expression was grim as he got out of the car
and opened the passenger door for her, not even bothering to glance at Michael, who still stood there watching.
Firmly shutting the door on her, Carl Elton got back into the driving seat and after giving her a quick searching stare, drove off. Teresa had expected them to sit and talk in the car, and was a little surprised that he obviously had a destination in mind as the car purred slowly through the town, and out on to the main road.
'Where are we going?' she asked the grim-looking man by her side.
'Home,' he replied tersely.
Hers—or his? she wondered, and as they passed the turning off to the chalet she had the answer. His.
When the car eventually turned off the main road on to a side road that clearly proclaimed the boundaries of Sunset Ridge on a large signpost, Teresa gazed about her with interest, expecting to see the homestead round the next bend, and was surprised to find that they had only entered the outskirts of the property.
There were paddocks that seemed to stretch for miles on either side of them; some with cattle grazing in them,' and others empty.
A short while later, Carl stopped the car and stared out at the scene before them. Teresa
looked too, and saw an area totally different from the well-kept paddocks they had passed.
With his eyes on the land, Carl said abruptly, 'Whose idea was it—yours or his?'
Teresa started and looked quickly at him, then her eyes went back to the land. Of course, that must
be Rafferty's Legacy! and her uncle had given it back to him, hadn't he?
'Well, mine, I think,' she replied uncertainly, and seeing the hard swift look he gave her, she went on, hoping to explain it to him. 'It seemed such a stupid waste, and hardly worth causing so much friction.'
Her answer did not please him, and the tension around them tightened rather than relaxed.
'Hardly worth causing so much friction?' he repeated in a soft, deadly voice. 'I could have put it better than that. I'll allow for the fact that you haven't much idea of the value of land in these parts —now, or as it was then. Taking that land was the same as taking the bread out of a man's mouth; it was his livelihood—and that,' he went on grimly, 'was only the start of things.'
Teresa sighed inwardly. Her uncle had been so right when he had said their marriage would never work. She shuddered to think of the consequences that would have followed had he kept away until after the wedding.
Carl waited a second or so for her comments, but as she said nothing he started the car up again and they continued the journey.
It seemed a long time to Teresa before they came to the homestead, and as her eyes roamed over the lovely old house surrounded by lawns and shrubbed areas bordering on yet more paddocks on which now grazed sleek horses, she couldn't help comparing the obvious wealth of the Eltons with her uncle's simple abode.
As the car swept up the well-cared-for drive to the house, she found herself actually ashamed for ask-
ing her uncle to give back that land. He had so little left, while this man had so much.
Suddenly she wanted to get it all over with, finished, so she could go back where she belonged. It might not be a mansion like the one she was now looking at, but it was the only home she had, and what was more, with someone who was actually related to her.
The car slid to a halt beside the imposing front door that had a wide verandah running the length of the front of the house, and with a feeling of trepidation, she watched Carl get out and walk round to her side of the car to open the door for her.
Teresa got out slowly. She not only felt lost, but utterly miserable. She had been a fool to come. Her uncle had been right again when he had advised her to let things be, even if he hadn't said so in as many words.
With a half-mocking bow, Carl gestured towards the front door. 'You know the way,' he drawled, then giving her an amused' glance added, 'Or have you forgotten that too?'
Teresa looked at him and felt a spurt of annoyance. He was so sure of himself, wasn't he? and he still didn't believe she had lost her memory.
Her indignant eyes clashed with the amused blue ones, she shook her head. 'As a matter of fact I have,' she answered coldly.
His amusement vanished at her answer, and his lips thinned as he strode on ahead of her. 'Well, I'll have to refresh your memory, won't I?' he said grimly.
He led the way through the spacious hall whose
cool atmosphere denoted air-conditioning, and passing several rooms came to what Teresa assumed to be the sitting-room.
The luxuriously-furnished room, like the rest of the property, positively shouted money, and Teresa felt quite out of her depth as she followed Carl Elton into the room.
A tall girl unfolded herself from a deep chair and stood waiting for them. Teresa couldn't define the look she gave her as her dark blue eyes rested on her; probing, was as near as she could get to defining it.
As the girl stared so too did Teresa, and she saw the blue-black hair twisted back and worn high on the head and falling in a ponytail. She wore hip-clinging jeans and an open-necked white blouse, neither of which, Teresa knew, could be bought off the peg, for although her clothes were deceptively simple, they were also very costly. Polished knee-high riding boots completed the ensemble.
In her plain cotton dress that could be picked up in any number of stores, and her open-toed sandals, Teresa felt even more out of place. Whoever this girl was, she belonged in this kind of setting; not only her clothes said so, but her lovely, if haughty, expression.
'Isobel! 'Why are you here?' Carl's voice held a touch of impatience in it. 'I thought you had company at home.'
'So we have, darling,' the girl murmured throatily. 'I only popped in to ask if we might borrow a few mounts for our guests.'
His reply was curt. 'Of course! Since when has it been necessary to ask?'
With an offhand shrug the girl's eyes returned to Teresa, and rested on her hair. `No wonder you did something about it, darling,' she said, a little spitefully to Teresa's sensitive ears. 'I couldn't think why you looked so different.'
Teresa felt a small spurt of surprise. The woman had obviously met her before, and was now commenting on her hair. Well, at least Teresa could understand the comment; she had noticed herself that she had used something to darken her hair. Whatever the reason had been, she had not bothered to shade it again, and she was now as nature had intended her to be, a redhead with a vengeance.
At the time of her discovery Teresa had been a little amused at the silent quip, but now felt at a distinct disadvantage. The man and the girl knew more about her than she did, and she stood there feeling completely at a loss as to what to say, knowing that whatever she said would sound stupid.
She was saved from this embarrassment by a very pointed look from Carl to the girl, who after giving another shrug, said hastily, 'Okay, I'm on my way,' and made for the door, gave a careless, 'See you,' when she reached it, and was gone.
Now that she was alone with Carl Teresa found herself wishing she could have followed the girl out of the morn, and felt rather than saw the impatient look he gave her as he said abruptly, 'Sit down, Teresa. We've a lot to talk about.'
Feeling apprehensive, she did as she was told: there was no point now in evading the issue, but how she wished it was all over with. Her unhappy eyes watched as Carl walked over to a cabinet and took out several bottles, then proceeded to mix some
drinks and handed her a glass of some concoction.
Teresa, accepting it, stared at it for a few minutes. He hadn't asked her what she would like, just got it for her.
His eyes met her puzzled ones, and he smiled grimly. 'My memory still holds good, if yours doesn't,' he commented harshly. `And now,' he said, still in that grating voice as he seated himself opposite her, 'let's have the gloves off, shall we? This loss of memory act just isn't going to work. I told you I don't play games, and my patience is running out fast—so let's have the truth, shall we? You've heard the old man's story, so now you'll hear mine.'
Teresa's wary eyes watched him settle back in his chair, noticing that he did not once take his eyes off her. 'Relax,' he said softly, `we've plenty of time. Dinner won't be served until seven-thirty.'
She started. Why, that was in two hours' time! 'I can't possibly stay to dinner,' she said quickly. 'I've my uncle's meal to get.'
For a frantic second it looked as if Carl would haul-her out of her chair and shake her hard; at least that was the impression she got, but then she saw his clenched fists relax as he took himself in hand, and straightened his fingers out along the arm of the chair. 'So he's made you his skivvy, has he?' he said quietly, yet there was an undercurrent of fury in his voice that warned her of his mood. 'He can get his own meal tonight. He's done it before, and he can do it again.'
There was such an air of finality in this statement that in spite of her trepidation Teresa was angry. What an autocratic man he was ! She very much
doubted if he had ever had to get his own meal. Oh, no, there would be an army of servants to wait on him. `I'm sorry,' she said with just as much determination in her voice as he had had in his, 'I'm afraid I won't be staying for a meal. For one thing,' she carried on
firmly, not failing to note the glint in his eyes, 'my uncle doesn't know where I am—and for another, I don't see why he should get his own meal. He'll be tired when he comes in.'
That did it! The next instant she found herself pulled out of her chair and held in an unbreakable hold. Whatever restraint Carl had put upon himself was now gone, and he was a very purposeful man. `By heaven,' he said through clenched teeth, 'I've had enough of this! I've tried to get through to you, but you're determined to get back at me, aren't you? It's one way of telling me there's to be no second chance, is that it? Wipe the slate clean and forget me? Well, I'm not going to let you do it, do you hear? So I took a hell of a knock when I found out who you were, I'm not denying it. I was punch-drunk for the rest of that day, and I don't recall much of what happened the following day either,' he added grimly, 'but I'm good and sober now. One thing alone stood out way above matters of pride and years of bitterness between the Eltons and the Raffertys, and that was you and me. The Raffertys aren't taking you from me.'
His gaze centred on her lips, and knowing what was coming, she tried to twist her face away from him, but he caught the back of her hair and forced her to accept his kiss, saying as his lips met hers,
'You can fight me for the rest of eternity. I'm not going to let you go.'
A stunned Teresa felt his lips on hers; gentle at first, then with a growing passion, and she tried to understand what was happening to her. She didn't feel distaste or disgust at the feel of his lips on hers, but she felt she should have done, and that brought her a great sadness. This man loved her, of that she was in no doubt. He was telling her so with his lips, and she couldn't respond, and it was no use pretending she could.
He held her away from him, and looked into her eyes. There was something about the lost, blank look in her lovely eyes that made him catch his breath sharply and jerk her to him again, holding her suffocatingly close to him. 'Oh, no ' he groaned. `So it's true, then?' he whispered against her hair. 'You don't know me, do you?'