A Man Called Cameron

by Margaret Pargeter

  Always, Petronella thought mutinously, Neil Cameron seemed able to set her down a peg or two! To argue with this man was like tangling with a brick wall of logic. ‘You have more than one aircraft,’ she pointed out. ‘Do you use both for merely coming to town?’

  ‘No,’ his lean, powerful frame twisted to glance down at the passing country, ‘we use them a lot to search out cattle in the scrub, which saves plenty of valuable time. They have other uses, too, such as when we want to visit a neighbour, either on business or social matters. A hundred miles in a plane can be nothing, but on second-class roads in a car it can waste a whole day.’

  Neil Cameron would naturally have a social life, Petra pondered, a slight frown marking her smooth brow, which he misinterpreted.

  ‘Relax,’ he ordered, his glance flicking over her, noticing, no doubt, the cheap cut of her apparel. She was wearing her jacket, but it was hot. ‘I’m glad you haven’t discarded your sandals again,’ he approved. He didn’t add that he thought them shabby and she hoped this had escaped him.

  ‘You’ve been around, I take it?’ he asked conversationally.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said brightly, not mentioning that during the past year she had been nowhere.

  ‘I should have expected a girl with your looks to be married.’ He gave her another comprehensive appraisal. ‘How come you’ve escaped?’

  She retorted sharply, her pulse suddenly agitated, ‘I could ask you the same thing. Myself, I don’t want to be married.’

  ‘You might change your mind,’ his voice taunted. ‘No boy-friends?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If you were older, Petronella,’ he drawled, ‘I should judge that you’d had a disastrous love affair.’

  ‘Why should you think that?’

  ‘The way you almost shrink every time I get near you, and David did remark that you were scared of men.’

  So he had heard. She might have known! ‘I’ve only known you since yesterday.’

  ‘No explanation. Not so far as you and I are concerned.’

  ‘Does there have to be one?’ Why had she placed herself in such a humiliating situation?

  ‘Yes, I think so, but I don’t want to have to drag it out of you, Petronella. Be our acquaintance brief or not, if we were in the helicopter I would put down right now and guarantee before many minutes you would be confessing all. If you didn’t approve of my methods, I would almost guarantee you enjoyed them. I don’t consider you too young for a lot of things, Petronella, especially with your kind of mouth.’

  Flushing scarlet, Petra stared down at her hands, the full, curved mouth he so admired compressed. The insolence of the man! Obviously, with his arrogant good looks, his money and degree of sophistication, he was used to women finding him irresistible. She could even feel her own heart beating wildly, at the thought of all he implied, but this wasn’t to say she was ready to be wholly taken over!

  With determination she kept her eyes averted from his, pretending to concentrate on the country over which they were passing, but her impression of wild foothills and even wilder-looking prairie, with its scattering of grazing cattle, didn’t seem to inspire her. It only increased a sense of pure isolation which, while in itself not frightening, did leave her in little doubt as to the complete vulnerableness of her position. It was enough somehow to convince her that Neil Cameron didn’t always threaten idly, and she would be wiser to co-operate, if only to alleviate some of his suspicions. ‘I don’t happen to care for men very much, on the whole.’ In case this didn’t sound reasonable, she stammered, ‘Of course this doesn’t apply to you.’

  ‘I’m gratified.’ His voice flicked a little. ‘I take it you’ve had an unhappy experience?’

  ‘No.’ Her eyes widened as she realised what he meant. ‘At least, not the kind I think you have in mind.’

  ‘I wonder?’ He held her confused glance, his eyes slightly narrowed. ‘Women have long mastered the art of appearing fragilely innocent. Until a certain point in their relationship it can only leave a man guessing.’

  ‘Yet men are to be admired for their very lack of innocence?’ she challenged sarcastically, stung by his egotism.

  The plane rose on a current of warm air and he controlled it expertly, as he might a woman. ‘That’s another of women’s little grievances, isn’t it? They don’t want an affair with a man who doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but they wholly resent the experience he brings with him.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t they?’ she asked, but trying to match his sophistication her voice choked.

  ‘If it adds to their pleasure?’

  ‘Oh ...’ Her cheeks crimson again, Petra lowered her eyes from the dark fascination of his. Why was he talking to her this way? Almost as if he was making love to her through the medium of a normal conversation. Yet he sounded so matter-of-fact as to make her rather prim indignation seem artificial. The way her pulse rate was accelerating left her in doubt that some part of her, at least, was wholly willing and able to respond! At the same time she felt it would be indelicate, if not downright beyond her, to admit it. ‘I think we’re talking on two different levels,’ she murmured at last.

  ‘The road usually goes up and down to begin with, Petronella,’ he teased. ‘I’m sure there’s a spot where we shall meet. I might even say I’m looking forward to it. Perhaps when you come back again.’

  Quickly suspicious, she glanced at his lightly mocking face, on which the strong lines of his profile gave nothing away. So he was only teasing her, while she had been too busy jumping to the wrong conclusions? Not that he could be blamed altogether, she admitted unhappily. Her story was thin, even to her own ears, and Neil wasn’t a man to swallow everything completely. When he talked so glibly of her returning was it because he had already concluded she had no intention of going away? Not if she could help it—no matter how high a price she was asked to pay! If he was a man fully aware of women and their needs this could only mean he would be that much easier to encourage.

  To this end she even managed to force some light laughter. ‘I’m your cousin, Neil, remember!’

  He answered in the same vein, ‘It does add a touch of respectability.’

  They touched down in Calgary, the chief city of southern Alberta, home of the famous rodeo. A busy city, it was situated in the valley of the Bow river, a tributary of the South Saskatchewan.

  ‘We could have gone to other places, Lethbridge or Medicine Hat,’ Neil said, ‘but I know a guy here who’s a particular wizard with bones. He also finds it convenient to see you this morning, which might not be the case elsewhere.’

  Two hours later or thereabouts, they were on their way back. The speed of the whole operation had bewildered Petra and she could scarcely believe it when they were once again boarding the plane. The hospital to which Neil had taken her was cool and white and very efficient, and she had a horrible suspicion that the treatment she had received was the best and most expensive. She had felt it a terrible blow to her pride that she had been unable even to offer to pay. She had felt so awful about it that she hadn’t been able to look at Neil and afterwards, outside, she felt she had only made things worse by mumbling ineffectually about settling up.

  ‘You’ll do that later,’ he had assured her, and though far from happy at his deliberate tones she was forced to leave it at that.

  Her arm, fortunately, had not been broken, only sprained at the wrist with a bone slightly out of place. It was now wrapped professionally in fresh bandages. The doctor, apparently an old friend of Neil’s from university days, had told her it would be fine in a few days, but advised her not to drive. ‘It would only do untold harm,’ he had said.

  They were almost home before Neil seemed prepared to comment on it. With the delicate cruelty with which she was beginning to associate him, he glanced at her. ‘You’ll have to prolong your visit now, won’t you? Unless you’re prepared to travel by train or coach.’

  Dismally, Petra glanced away from him. He didn’t look as if he
meant to be sarcastic, but she recognised that he was taunting her a little. Maybe he guessed she didn’t want to leave right away and wasn’t sure what to make of it? Again she wondered what his final reactions would be, when she told him she didn’t intend leaving, ever.

  ‘I’d rather stay with you, if you don’t mind,’ she said at last, inadvertently giving the impression that she had been considering.

  ‘You’re very welcome, of course,’ he replied coolly. ‘I think I’d better point out, though, that we’re rather busy just now on the ranch, so I won’t have a great deal of time to entertain you.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she agreed eagerly, maybe too eagerly judging from the keen glance he shot her. ‘I mean,’ she hastened, ‘I realise you must have a lot to do, but I expect you’ll be at home during the evening?’

  ‘You look forward to that?’

  ‘Well,’ she hesitated, again cautious as to his exact tones, ‘I would like to get to know you properly.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll do that, Petronella,’ he laughed, but on a thread of seriousness he added emphatically, ‘Never doubt it!’

  That evening Petra decided to wear her only dress for dinner. She hoped that if Neil saw her in something different he would decide she had an extensive wardrobe and this impression might remain. Men didn’t usually notice all that much and if Neil was extra busy, as he had said, he would probably never give her clothes a second thought. She brushed her hair well and left it loose about her shoulders, knowing enough about men to realise they liked the shining fairness of it. While not being over-impressed with it herself, she wondered if it might distract Neil’s attention from the too obvious dowdiness of her insignificant grey dress, which might, she thought despairingly, have been more suited to an elderly matron.

  To her relief, seemed quite satisfied to see only her hair and face, which he appeared to study from time to time with a quite definite appreciation. His own clothes, she noticed, were of impeccable cut and for all his size, he always managed to look supremely elegant. It was this, combined with the impression of latent strength, that Petra found disconcerting, if not a little frightening! She did not want to admit that there could be a lot more to Neil Cameron than she had anticipated. An aura of power moved about him, a sense of absolute maleness and authority, which she supposed might come from long years of handling a huge property like this one. He looked, if one caught him objectively, about as hard and unyielding as the high Rockies which towered above his home. All that devastating formidability could only have grown from the roots of some Celtic ancestry on which had been grafted, over the years, the additional qualities of good Canadian stock. From the one or two remarks he had passed it seemed that for the most part of the year he lived alone, yet he didn’t strike her as a man who would be over-fond of his own company. There was a hint of awareness in his eyes on occasion, when he glanced at her, as if a woman might, if only occasionally, interest him. It was there, in that keenly penetrating blueness, and his mouth, which was curving and sensuous, for all the tight hold he kept on it. It was the vertical line between his brows, speaking of some impatience and intolerance, which made Petra doubt suddenly and apprehensively if the softer, more approachable side of him was ever allowed to prevail.

  David, who had gone to bed early again, after being allowed to join them for dinner, seemed to share none of her doubts. He had been gone so long with Neil that afternoon that she had only managed a hasty word with him afterwards. Surprisingly, because it had been so long since he had shown enthusiasm over anything, his admiration had bubbled over.

  ‘Neil’s super, Petra,’ he had said, leaving Petra curiously speechless.

  ‘Just as long as you remember he might not be so nice when I ask if we can stay,’ she had muttered, being forced, by lack of time, to leave it at that.

  After dinner Neil, as she had feared, began to ask about her life in England.

  ‘Do you have a job to go back to, Petronella?’ he enquired.

  Petra, who had been bracing herself for something like this, started all the same. ‘No,’ for a moment she could barely hide the panic in her eyes when she thought of it, ‘I did have one but gave it up—to come here.’

  ‘No understanding employer?’

  ‘I can easily find more work,’ she said evasively.

  ‘You’re trained for something, of course?’

  ‘Nothing specific, if that’s what you mean.’

  To her relief he didn’t, after one faintly contemplative pause, press the issue. Instead he asked agreeably, ‘Does David attend a special school?’

  ‘Special...?’

  ‘Boarding school, I mean?’ he supplied curtly.

  ‘No.’ She felt rather flustered by his tone and glanced at him uncertainly. ‘He’s not very strong, you see.’

  ‘He looks all right to me.’

  She wished he would look elsewhere but her face. It would be much easier to evade direct answers if he wasn’t staring at her with those penetrating blue eyes! ‘That’s only because you see him as he is today. He’s usually tired out and—and—’ her voice trailed off helplessly and she was aghast to find almost a sob in her throat.

  That he must have noticed but chose to ignore it was in itself disquieting. Again he didn’t persist, but her slight feeling of gratitude died as he passed on to something worse, with what she considered a ruthless disregard for any delicateness of feelings.

  ‘What did your father do?’

  ‘He was a well-known financier.’

  ‘So he was able to leave you well provided for.’

  How did she answer this one without giving everything away? ‘We’ve managed,’ she replied at least.

  He considered this, his eyes still unnerving on her taut face. ‘David must sometimes be almost more than you can cope with?’

  This could mean many things, but she decided to take it at its face value. ‘He’s usually very good, no trouble. I worry sometimes, as can be expected,’ she added, swiftly dismayed to find she had been on the brink of disclosing some of her worst troubles.

  ‘Naturally,’ Neil said mildly. ‘David, I think, should go to a good boarding school. I’d say he was more than ready for one. If he began in the fall it would give you a chance to get on with your own life.’

  As he rose to pour himself a drink, Petra found herself watching him in rather a dazed fashion. No one knew better than she that David longed to go to boarding school. He might have been there before their father died, but Charles Sinclair had always said twelve was quite soon enough. Petra had suspected her father hadn’t wanted to part with him, not because David hadn’t wanted to go. Now he would never go. Not unless Neil could be persuaded to send him. This she must ask of him eventually, but she couldn’t, yet. Not until she knew him at least a little better. There could be a right way to approach him. He had been kind to David, after a late lunch, showing him around himself. When he had discovered the boy could ride he had mounted him on a smart little palomino pony and taken him off into the foothills.

  About this Petra had been a trifle disconcerted, well aware that he could easily have taken them both by truck. She had been unable to accompany them on horseback, because of her bad wrist, and it seemed to her that Neil, knowing this, had deliberately contrived to leave her behind. Her nerves had stretched almost to breaking point during the remainder of the afternoon while she had wondered how many, and what sort of questions he was asking her brother. When David returned she had been ashamed to learn that he had asked nothing, but she still couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that he had planned it with every intention of robbing her, if only temporarily, of some peace of mind.

  ‘My own life isn’t of great importance,’ she said, her voice strained but indifferent as Neil returned to his seat and obviously awaited her comment.

  ‘It could be,’ his eyes considered her wide grey ones, ‘if not to you, then someone else.’

  She supposed he was talking of David, so was startled predictably, when he added
suavely, ‘A lot of women would give everything they possessed to look like you. Beauty, Petronella, is not to be scorned. It’s a highly saleable commodity, as you might one day discover.’

  ‘Why, that’s—that’s a beastly thing to say!’ Highly inflammable, she jumped to her feet. Somehow she couldn’t seem to bear his hurtful amusement, especially when it happened to be too near the mark for total comfort. Nonplussed, she halted, at the beginning of wild flight. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, a world of desolation suddenly clouding her clear young voice, ‘I think I’m too tired to realise what I’m saying. If you’ll excuse me, I would like to go upstairs. I know you were only teasing.’

  He was beside her, very dark and tall, his hand, far from cousin-like, upon her trembling shoulder. ‘I think neither of us can be too sure of that, Petronella,’ he mocked, his gaze lancing through her. When she didn’t reply, because she somehow could not, he turned her almost gently towards the staircase, standing watching her like some contemplative bird of prey as she stumbled unsteadily upwards, away from him.

  Petra felt secretly ashamed during the next few days that she must pretend her wrist was worse than it actually was. It was painful at times, but the tablets she had been given helped and she knew she didn’t have to make such a fuss about it as she did. She didn’t say much, but she became curiously addicted to appearing helpless when Neil was around and seeing his immediate solicitude as he studied her pale face. Not that she was so very pale anymore. She was quickly acquiring a soft golden tan that went beautifully with her silky fair hair, and her figure, with all the good food, was filling out a little and rounding. While she didn’t put on much weight, the extra pound or two was definitely attractive.