The Rouseabout Girl

by Gloria Bevan

  Her cheeks still burned from the touch of the sun beating down on the crowds at the river bank that afternoon and making her now feel drowsy. Tonight she felt that in spite of the upsets of the day she would fall asleep easily. That was, of course, if she didn’t allow herself to dwell on thoughts of Jard. He made her so mad!

  She took a shower, then slipped into cool cotton pyjamas of a pink-and-white striped pattern. Then settling herself back on the pillow she flung her long plait of hair back over her shoulder and picked up the paperback novel she had brought with her. Somehow, thought, the words danced before her eyes and the story-line failed to hold her interest. Instead she found herself pondering on the fact that invariably in romantic novels when the hero for one reason or another came bursting unexpectedly into the girl’s room, she was always attired in see-through garments of provocative appeal, like a float-away negligee. On neither count would that ever happen to her, she mused, then stiffened as a peremptory rat-a-tat sounded on the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called guardedly.

  ‘It’s me, Jard!’ she caught the note of suppressed anger in the low vibrant tones, ‘and you’d better let me in! I've got things to say to you, and without the old man putting in his say!’

  For a moment she hesitated, then ‘Oh, all right, then.’ Moving to the door, she flung it open and he towered above her, dominant, erect and menacing. It was clear that he meant business. ‘You’d better take a seat,’ she gestured towards the bed.

  He shook: his head impatiently. ‘I can say what I want to right here!’ At the hostility in his tone Lanie braced herself for the coming attack. This was war!

  ‘Now look here,’ she said defiantly, ‘if you’re on again about my taking on the job with you and your dad—’

  His thick dark eyebrows rose satirically. ‘How did you guess?’

  She ignored the sarcasm in his tone. ‘It wasn’t my idea!’

  He pinned her with his hard accusing gaze. ‘Are you telling me I can’t believe the evidence of my eyes?’

  ‘I don’t care what you believe!’ Anger was welling up inside her. ‘It was Sandy who offered me the job!’

  ‘So it’s Sandy, is it? Quick work, wasn’t it, Miss Petersen?’

  With an effort she crushed down the black tide of fury that threatened to overspill. ‘We got on fine together right from the start, and he asked me to call him that.’

  His lips curled. ‘I’ll bet he did! I suppose you’ll tell me next that this,’ he swung around to pluck the orchid from its vase on the mantel, ‘isn’t another of his happy thoughts?’

  ‘Put that down!’ She snatched the frail blossom from his grasp. ‘Of all the—’ She broke off, lost for words.

  ‘For your information,’ with an effort she forced her voice to a cool and collected note, ‘it was given to me at the shareholders’ meeting of the flour company when they presented me with the competition prize.’

  ‘So you say!’ He eyed her disbelievingly, but the next moment the indignation blazing her in green eyes must have got through to him, for he muttered a low, ‘Sorry, I got the wrong idea—’

  ‘Yes, you have!’ Swiftly she grasped the opportunity he had handed to her. ‘Just like you’ve got the wrong idea about everything else ... about me.’

  ‘Really?’ he drawled. ‘You’d better put me in the picture, then. The old man isn’t usually interested in females, young or old. I’d be interested to know just how you got around him so quickly—’ His narrowed gaze swept over her flushed young face, then moved down to the smooth tanned skin at the base of her throat exposed by the deep V of her pyjama jacket. ‘Apart from the way you look, of course, that could account for a lot!’

  Taken by surprise, she knew only one emotion, a hot and blinding anger. How dared he, how dare he treat her this way, taking it for granted that coming to work on his property was entirely her Idea, as if she had engineered the whole affair? ‘Look,’ she cried defensively, ‘you’re all wrong about me! You’re way out and you may as well know it right now! Sandy—’

  ‘Oh yes, Sandy ’

  At the derisive curl of his lips she had to hold her breath while she got control of her runaway emotions. At last she said stiffly, ‘We got to talking at the meeting and when I told him I was on the look-out for a country job he mentioned that there was work offering at his place. It seemed a good idea, and when he was with me at the flat—’ She broke off abruptly, aghast at Jard’s expression. The way he was looking at her, the cynical light in his eyes! He couldn’t be thinking that for purposes of her own she had deliberately set out to trap an elderly man into friendship, or even a more intimate association? But of course she could explain the visit to her bedsitter-quite simply—or could she? Across her mind flashed a picture of Sandy’s pale, oddly intent face. ‘You won’t let on to Jard about what happened to me today?’

  The cold accusing tones fell across her musing. ‘And don’t try to tell me the old boy had a heart attack or something of the sort, because it won’t wash! He’s as strong as can be and as wiry as hell! You’ll have to think up something better than that to convince me!’ As she hesitated, Lanie became aware of the relentless tones. ‘He’s a nice old boy, my dad, trusting old guy. It must have been the easiest thing in the world for you to get away with it.’ His tone hardened. ‘But you won’t. And it so easy to pull the wool over my eyes. And contrary to what you might be thinking, what I say goes! Just,’ he bent on her his deep formidable gaze, ‘don’t go messing about with the old boy’s feelings. Right now he’s so bemused with his new little friend he’d make himself believe anything. Oh, you might have made a fool of my dad, but that baby face and sweet husky voice doesn’t fool me one little bit!’

  She was all but choking with fury. She said very low, ‘Get out of my room!’

  He made no move to go. ‘Don’t worry, I will, once I’ve put the record straight. The old man’s so besotted with you he’s even got you mixed up in his mind with my sister. Actually his Elaine is quite a different type of girl, thank the Lord. You can trust her!’

  Lanie was very pale. ‘But not me? Is that what you’re trying to say?’

  His eyes were cold fire. ‘You know the answer to that one.’

  Suddenly the wild anger that had been boiling up inside her spilled over and, scarcely aware of her action, her hand flew out as she stretched upwards and with all the power she could summon, delivered a stinging blow to his cheek. It was satisfying, she thought hotly, to see the red marks of her fingers imprinted on his darkly tanned face. Breathing hard, she eyed him defiantly, but beyond an involuntary flinch at her blow, he betrayed no particular reaction.

  ‘It wasn’t like you think!’ she cried once again. Heavens, what was he thinking? That she had manoeuvred an elderly man into offering her the farm job? She looked up at him, taking in the hard unyielding lines of his tanned face. ‘You don’t know anything about me! It’s all lies—’

  His bark of laughter held no amusement. ‘Did I accuse you of anything?’

  ‘Not in so many words, but—’

  ‘Why not let me in on it, then?’ His voice was rapier-sharp. ‘Go ahead, I’m listening.’

  ‘Ask your father yourself, if you’re so damned suspicious about me,’ she countered.

  The twist to his lips held no amusement. ‘I did, and he’s mighty evasive about the whole thing. He’s a softie in some respects, anyone can take him in by playing on his sympathies—’

  ‘Well, I didn’t!’ she flashed. Taking a deep breath, she caught her lower lip in her teeth to stop the trembling. ‘All right, then, if that’s the way you feel about me, you don’t have to employ me—’

  ‘Don’t tempt me!’ His savage tones cut across her soft husky accents. After a second’s pause the harsh tones went on. ‘Unfortunately, though I manage the station, and my dad’s made Rangimarie over to me, he still has some say in the running of the show. For reasons of his own he’s given you the job and that's it, but,’ his voice dropped to a low form
idable note, ‘get this. You’d better pull your weight around the place or you’ll find yourself out on your ear so soon you’ll wonder what’s hit you! Another thing,’ he held her with his implacable gaze. ‘The way the old man’s talking, you’re Miss Supercook, Cordon Bleu, the lot!’ The cold tones lashed out at her. ‘You scarcely look the part!’ His cool gaze raked her small slender figure.

  ‘What?’ Lanie eyed him incredulously! She had taken in only the first part of what he had told her. ‘But I didn’t tell him anything of the sort!’ she protested hotly. ‘I made it plain to him that I wasn’t—’

  ‘Well then,’ came the hatefully mocking tones, ‘it’s up to you, isn’t it?’

  ‘And you’re hoping like mad,’ she flashed, ‘that I’ll make an unholy mess of things!’

  ‘Did I say so?’

  ‘You didn’t need to spell it out.’ She faced him with all the dignity she could muster—difficult when she barely came to his shoulder and he was so big. He was also the most maddening man she had ever come across in her life! ‘I mightn’t be the world’s top cook,’ she flung at him, ‘but it’s all lies, the things you’re hinting at about me and Sandy!’

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Is it now? I wonder?’ All at once he had caught her bare arm in a hurtful grip. ‘You tell me you’re a cook, pure and simple and I say you’re nothing but a little opportunist, that you were on the make and when you saw a chance you took it—’

  ‘Let me go!’

  He took not the slightest notice of her struggles to free her arm from his painful grip. ‘Get this straight!’ He towered above her., setting her trembling. ‘If you’re going to work for me, you'd better be good!’ At last he released her.

  Lanie rubbed her arm where his savage clasp had pressed into her soft flesh. ‘You don’t have to worry yourself about me,’ she cried breathlessly, ‘I’ll get a bus back to town in the morning!’

  Jard held her defiant green gaze with his formidable glance.

  ‘No, you won’t! I’m not having the old man upset at this stage of the game!’

  ‘Too bad.’ She scarcely knew what she was saying, with the anger boiling up inside her and exploding in a black cloud. She never knew she could hate anyone so much! ‘Let me tell you something!’ she flung at him. ‘On second thoughts I’ve changed my mind about going back to town. I can’t wait to show you just how mistaken you can be about people—about me!’

  He sent her his hateful twisted smile. ‘Great!’ She knew by the sarcasm he put into the word that he simply didn’t believe her capable of proving herself to him, and the thought sparked her to throw him a challenging glance. ‘You might be surprised!’

  His glance was definitely off-putting, but he merely remarked coolly, ‘I might at that.’ Then turning swiftly on his heel, he moved with his easy stride towards the door, and closed it behind him.

  Through a mist of unshed tears Lanie gazed down at the red marks on her arm where his strong fingers had pressed into the flesh. She was still trembling. Nothing, she vowed, but nothing would stop her now from going on with this mad venture. She would prove Jard mistaken in his horrible misguided opinion of her, even if it took her the whole three months of her stay at Rangimarie to accomplish it. She didn’t know how she was going to convince him, she only knew she would. It would be worth working as a cook on his farm, worth anything, she told herself, if at the end of it all she could force that arrogant man to admit how wrong, wrong, wrong he had been in his snap judgment of her.

  That night it was a long time before she could get to sleep as over and over again the angry thoughts tumbled through her mind. Jard was so convinced in his mind that she was a conniving adventurer, out for all she could get. Oh, she could kill that man! Viciously she flung her pillow over and punched it.

  She had dreaded the meeting with Jard in the restaurant, but when in the morning she went down to breakfast it was Sandy who awaited her at the door.

  ‘I thought you’d be along any moment now.’ Freshly shaved and alert, he looked as pleased to see her, the thought hashed through her mind, as if she were his own Elaine, It was very odd. She brought her mind back to the masculine tones. ‘Jard breakfasted ages ago, then took off for the garage.’ The shrewd gaze took in the dark smudges around Lanie’s eyes. ‘Sleep all right last night, lass?’

  ‘Yes, fine, thank you.’

  ‘That’s good.’ He gave the waitress an order for cornflakes, toast and coffee, then turned on her his penetrating gaze. ‘Not having second thoughts about that cooking job with us, are you?’

  She hesitated. ‘Actually...’ Her voice trailed away. In view of last night’s stormy encounter with his son it was difficult to make her smile bright and convincing.

  ‘Because if you happen to have any notions in that direction I’m warning you right now that I’m going to do my damnedest to talk you out of them.’ He met her troubled glance. ‘Something bothering you, is there?’

  She decided to come right out with it. Choosing her words carefully, she said slowly, ‘It’s just your son. He’s definitely against the whole idea of my taking on the job with you.’

  ‘Did he tell you that?’ He shot the question at her, but she parried it neatly. ‘He had no need to spell it out. He wishes me anywhere else in the world but on the way to Rangimarie. Anyone can see that. It’s the way he looks at me, and all the things he doesn’t say! I know he thinks I’m too young and inexperienced, and I guess,’ she smiled across the table, ‘when you come right down to it, he could be right!’

  ‘Rubbish, lass!’ You’ll make out fine, you’ll see! Just give it a go! Don’t worry about Jard,’ he grinned, ‘it’ll do him a power of good not to get his way all of the time. He’ll come around after a while, you can take my word for it.’

  She flicked him a disbelieving glance from under her lashes. ‘With my cooking and the way he feels about me?’

  ‘Oh, come on, lass,’ his tone was encouraging, ‘you mustn’t let him bother you. Just give him time.’

  ‘But he's so angry!’ She bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t like to be the cause of any trouble between you—’

  ‘You can put that idea right out of your mind, lass.’ His hearty laugh dispelled her misgivings. ‘Just because nowadays he happens to manage the show, it doesn’t mean we don’t have our little management difficulties and differences! Come on now,’ the twinkling brown eyes were entreating, ‘you’re not the girl I took you for if you’re going to let my son scare you away from Rangimarie before you’ve had a stab at the job.’ All at once his voice took on a serious note. ‘You’re not thinking of giving it away and going back to town today, are you? Not already? Just because of Jard?’

  Jard. The name had the power to stir her to a wild anger and fierce determination. What had she been thinking of? Running away, giving in to his dominating ways? Meekly acceding to his demands? Demands based on his own entirely mistaken interpretation of the relationship that existed between his father and herself. She’d take that job, and what was more, she vowed silently, she’d be so darned good at it that Jard would be forced to admit how mistaken he had been in his snap judgment of her. She couldn’t wait for the moment of truth when she would accept his apology for the hurtful, high-handed treatment he had handed out to her. Lost in her exciting dream of the future, she took a moment or so for Sandy’s anxious tones to register in her mind.

  ‘You’re not thinking of turning it in, lass?’

  Lanie sent him a smile that was quite dazzling, a smile full of confidence and hope. ‘Not on your life!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  It should have been an enjoyable journey, Lanie mused as they sped south down the winding highway with its long stretches of farmlands and the occasional small settlement comprising a cluster of timber houses, a garage, a general store and old hotel, built alongside the road. It would have been pleasant travelling too, she thought resentfully, had it not been for the closed masculine profile she could glimpse from a comer of her e
ye. If only she didn’t have this odd awareness of him. Why couldn’t she be like Sandy, who, apparently unmindful of his son’s off-putting silence, was cheerfully pointing out to her the features of the various areas through which they were passing.

  Was Jard always so grim and uncommunicative, she wondered, or could it be she who had upset him? She could almost feel his disapproval and antagonism. You know the answer to that one! The errant thought shot through her mind that she could put up with his silent displeasure, but it was very hard to fight against this crazy awareness of his physical nearness. Thank heavens he had no way of knowing her feelings in that direction.

  Lost in her thoughts, she scarcely took in the road cut through vast pine plantations on which they were travelling, or the notices on the trees, ‘Young pines growing. Take care.’

  They had journeyed a long way towards their destination when Lanie, gazing idly out of the window, suddenly caught her breath, forgetting everything else, even for a moment the man close at her side, in her first glimpse of Mount Egmont. Cloud-shadowed, the symmetrical cone reached into the translucent sky, snow-capped even in the heat of summer. The misty shape of the mountain seemed to travel with them as they followed the coastline and the miles fell away.

  Small towns flashed by the windows of the vehicle. Patea with its blue-roofed farmhouses and macrocarpa-lined road, its sculptured model of a carved Maori canoe set high above the municipal hall.