A Man Called Cameron

by Margaret Pargeter

  ‘You mustn’t forget you’re Janey’s special friend.’ In the struggle to free herself her arm bruised darkly because Oliver was strong and determined. ‘Neil wouldn’t like it if Janey got hurt.’

  ‘Always Neil!’ Oliver sneered with patent resentment, ‘A dozen times a day you mention him, Petra. Are you so scared of him?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Petra had denied it breathlessly. ‘But I am a guest in his house.’

  ‘Janey and I have no special arrangement,’ Oliver had gone on more soberly, ‘so whatever Neil thinks, it’s not important, not completely, anyway.’

  Petra noticed he didn’t wholly rule out Neil’s opinion, but Oliver, she had discovered, rarely held explicit views of any kind. He was easy going to the point of being easily led, very malleable. She didn’t think anything would ever go very deep with him and realised, because of his carefree outlook, she could be worrying herself unnecessarily regarding Janey. Oliver was merely being friendly. She had no reason to be alarmed, not even when he looked at her with something in his eyes she couldn’t define. It was possibly just a passing attraction, the novelty of her being from overseas.

  She had warded Oliver off with a light smile, but even as he had accepted his dismissal tolerantly he had whispered something about the next time. Cautiously Petra had resolved there wouldn’t be a next time as she had bade him a sober goodbye.

  That had been the night before last. Now he was back again, pleading with Petra to forgive him and come swimming, and, because it was another day and she was feeling strangely reckless, she agreed. From the kitchen, with its huge cupboards and freezers, she collected and packed refreshments and drove out with Oliver to the lake. She wasn’t sure if she would actually swim for at the last minute David had decided he would rather go with Jake and Petra found herself uneasily aware that in coming out here alone with Oliver she might displease Cameron—if he ever found out! Which, she tried to persuade herself, wasn’t likely.

  For all her resolution to behave circumspectly the heat of the afternoon and the warmth of the lake defeated her eventually. Regretting that her two-piece was so brief, she whipped off her clothes behind a concealing bush and put it on. Without glancing more than once to the spot where Oliver lay drowsily recumbent she plunged into the water. Grateful that if nothing else she was an excellent swimmer, she struck out happily for the island which lay about a hundred yards off shore. The lake in parts was ringed with cattails and bulrushes, reeds and whitetop grass, and some dabbling ducks flew off as she approached them. Great flights of wildfowl, Cameron had told her, moved into this area in springtime, this being on the edge of the most famous nesting grounds for ducks in North America.

  Through the soaring bluestem grass she watched some pintail and mallard who didn’t seem aware of her presence. So absorbed was she that it wasn’t until she reached the island and Oliver caught her up that she realised she had made a mistake in ever coming. During the hour they had sat on the sandy grass beside the truck he had scarcely taken any notice of her. He had slept in the heat of the sun, only talking occasionally, but in coming to the island she had perhaps seemed to issue an invitation.

  ‘Petra!’ he panted, as she dragged herself up on to the pebbly beach away from him. ‘Come here!’

  ‘No ...’ she turned, telling herself she must speak coolly. Hysterics might only incite him further, if the thickness of his voice was anything to go by. ‘Behave yourself, Oliver,’ she tried to laugh lightly.

  Unfortunately he wasn’t to be so easily deterred. His arm went out, catching her around her waist, pulling her excitedly against him, ‘Petra,’ he breathed, ‘you don’t know how you affect me, dear. I want to marry you. I’ve never seen anyone to match you—I don’t suppose I ever will!’ Stunned, Petra forget all about running as she stared up at his eager face. ‘Oh, no!’ Nothing could have gone this far, so out of hand! She didn’t love Oliver—she didn’t even like him touching her; hadn’t she a bruise to prove it? Numbly she glanced down at her arm, listening to him repeat his wild proposal. What, oh, what would Neil say? And how about Janey? Wasn’t this going to spoil everything for everybody if she couldn’t talk some sense into Oliver!

  Something of what she was feeling must have got through to him as he said fiercely, ‘You don’t have to be so surprised, dear, you’ve been pleased enough with me lately. I’ll look after you, Petra. I’m not much of a guy, I know, but I have money. I can support you, if this is what you’re waiting to hear. I expect this is how it’s done in England?’

  Almost Petra smiled. ‘I don’t think we’re quite so mercenary. I’m sorry, Oliver,’ she gulped, ‘I couldn’t marry you.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked sulkily.

  ‘It wouldn’t work,’ she replied, her eyes meeting his pleading ones urgently, as she tried to wriggle discreetly from his grip. Momentarily, as if the impact of her refusal dumbfounded him somewhat, he let her go. If she could reach the water again she might just beat him to the other side? Properly dressed, he might cool down and she wouldn’t be so vulnerable. He might be more willing to listen to sense. She might convince him he could feel nothing but a simple infatuation. She was ashamed to realise that the situation here, with her parading the way she was, was rapidly going to his head.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ About to make a run for it, she despaired when he caught her, laughing as he guessed what she had in mind. ‘All girls need convincing,’ he muttered, his arms tightening. ‘Once I’ve kissed you, you might want me to do it again.’

  Hard as she struggled it was impossible to evade his searching lips. His arms, if not as strong as Neil’s, were too determined to allow her to escape. His breath swamped hers and the ringing in her ears became a shout. A shout to penetrate fright and despair like a crack of black thunder! Suddenly she felt Oliver pushing her away from him, swearing softly under his breath, and there before her horrified eyes, standing cynically on the opposite bank was Cameron!’

  It couldn’t be true? Maybe a mirage? Or had the strain of the last moments caused hallucinations? Such things happened. ‘Who is it?’ she whispered, clutching unconsciously at Oliver, as if praying to be reassured it couldn’t be him!

  ‘Neil,’ Oliver grunted moodily. ‘He would turn up!’

  ‘Neil!’ Petra still stared, forgetting in her shock that Oliver’s arms were still about her and that, from where he stood, Neil might easily imagine they were on the brink of some torrid affair.

  Oliver must have forgotten he held her himself, as when she moved he made no effort to detain her. ‘We’d better get across and see what he wants,’ he said, sounding fed up but rather nervous. ‘Don’t forget, though,’ he called unexpectedly, as she slipped away, ‘I’m always here if you should ever change your mind.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Oliver,’ they were the last words she uttered until she found herself standing in front of Neil, the water pouring from her soaked hair, down the bikini, which was sagging drunkenly from her figure, into the ground.

  ‘So this,’ he grated, his eyes like flints, ‘is how you’ve been passing the time while I’ve been away!’ His icy glance travelled slowly down her, examining mercilessly every inch of exposed, tantalising skin, and it was worse, much worse than it had been after the party. Then, he had been gently teasing; now he was formidable in his acid disapproval. ‘It’s interesting to see how Oliver affects you,’ he continued scornfully, when she trembled so badly she couldn’t reply, ‘but I’d advise you to get dressed straight away. I’m not taking you back to the ranch half naked!’

  She had beaten Oliver to the shore by perhaps two or three minutes, all it had taken for Neil to slay her with his eyes, scorch her with his savage remarks. Now, as Oliver panted up, he had the air of a man menacingly delivering the final blow. ‘Good evening, Oliver,’ he said. ‘Janey is waiting for you at the house.’

  For a second Oliver looked dismayed, as no doubt Neil intended he should. Then he shrugged and grinned, seeming to lose his temporary embarrassment, ‘I
didn’t expect to see you back so soon, Neil. It will be nice to see Janey.’

  ‘You’d better be sure,’ Neil spoke laconically. Then to Petra, in harsher tones, ‘You can follow us in the other truck—when you get some clothes on!’

  Oliver hadn’t the demeanour of a man going to meet the only girl in his life; Rather he looked as if he was leaving her as he gazed with anxious fondness at Petra’s hotly flushed face. ‘I’ll wait and bring Petra back myself,’ he mumbled stubbornly. ‘After all, I brought her.’

  ‘So it seems,’ Neil was sarcastic. ‘I still think you owe it to Janey to come immediately.’

  ‘You may be right,’ Oliver admitted mildly, ‘but I won’t leave Petra.’

  ‘Get a move on, then!’ Neil flung the order at Petra curtly. ‘I’ll give you exactly two minutes.’

  She had never been addressed thus in her life and had a sudden, insane desire to slap his hard, handsome face. ‘I can easily drive back myself.’ With a great effort she subdued her primitive tendencies and turned to Oliver. ‘In fact I would rather.’

  ‘Miss Sinclair!’ The threat in Neil’s voice shocked further dissension right out of her head. ‘Please, God,’ she prayed fervently as she stumbled towards the bushes, ‘don’t let him hate me too much! Please don’t let him believe it was exactly as it must have looked, over there on the island.’

  In spite of the warmth of the evening she still felt chilled even after she had finished dressing. There was certainly nothing to warm her in the arrogant contempt in Neil’s eyes as she almost ran back to them carrying her wet swimsuit in her hand. She had forgotten her towel was still in the truck and she hadn’t dared return for it. Now, her badly cut clothes clung to her damp body and she felt terribly uncomfortable. The outer discomfort, however, was nothing to what she felt inside.

  Neil was seated already in the driving seat, Oliver beside him. He waved Petra behind him, his hand on Oliver’s shoulder as he made to get out when she appeared. ‘If you’re hungry,’ he mocked, ‘you can eat some of the refreshments you brought. Did you think to feed an army?’ The way he said it seemed to imply that she had a nerve helping herself to so much food that didn’t belong to her!

  About to reply that she had expected David was coming with them and that Mrs. Allen had insisted she took a lot as Oliver was always hungry, Petra decided against it. Why try to vindicate herself when he was so determined to condemn her?

  She had thought her silence, though he might construe it as sulkiness, might at least put an end to further discussion, but apparently he wasn’t finished.

  ‘I don’t object to your having a holiday here, but you shouldn’t expect me to supply a man to keep an eye on your young brother while you go off and enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I—’ She was flung against the side of the truck as he turned it perilously, with a hard scrub of tyres which stirred the dry brown earth into a miniature storm cloud. ‘I,’ she began again, ruefully rubbing a sore shoulder, ‘thought he was with Jake?’

  ‘Jake’s my manager, isn’t he?’ There was no apology for any bruise she might have sustained. It was almost as if he had enjoyed hurting her.

  ‘Yes—but ...’ Oh, what could she say? David had told her Jake had asked him specially to go with him and she hadn’t really stopped to query his story. She just remembered seeing him going off with Jake and some of the other men on horseback. Neil was right, of course, she was in the wrong over this, it was no use trying to wriggle out of it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she faltered unhappily, feeling disconcertingly on the verge of tears. Nothing seemed to be going right. If only Oliver hadn’t appeared! Now it would be worse as there would be Janey and Mrs. Cameron to contend with. What was she to do?

  Surprisingly Oliver came to her rescue. He had been so quiet she had imagined his thoughts to be centred exclusively on Janey. He glanced at Neil. ‘Don’t be too hard on Petra. I persuaded her to come, David too. He was waiting to accompany us when Jake arrived with this story about wild horses in one of the higher canyons. What boy could resist that? I told Jake to take him. It did give Petra a break, a chance to enjoy herself.’

  ‘So I could see.’

  Petra, past caring about Oliver’s ill-worded finale and Neil’s continuing curtness, still flinched even when she didn’t reply. She would get a chance later to say as much as she liked, she fancied, while finding no comfort in the thought. Meeting Neil’s dark, enigmatic eyes through the driving mirror was like falling into a bottomless pit, so deep were they with unmistakable promise of a frightening wrath to come.

  At the ranch he hustled her quickly inside. Oliver followed. With black-browed arrogance Neil didn’t spare her a second glance. Petra had managed to half dry her long hair, to get most of the tangles out. Not yet having had the chance to curl, it hung down below her shoulders, the damp straightness of it giving her a startling, urchin-like appearance which Neil viewed dryly.

  ‘I’ll go upstairs,’ she whispered, her throat horribly tight as she looked down on her creased jeans, reluctant to meet anyone in such a rumpled state.

  ‘No!’ his hand shot out cruelly to restrain her as she moved towards the stairs, ‘you come with me.’

  Her eyes, wide and slightly tilted, pleaded with him silently.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said grimly, ‘you look about ten years old. Apart from ...’ He didn’t finish, but his glance slid down consideringly as he guided her stumbling footsteps into the lounge. He held on to her as if it was all part of a conspiracy to make it seem she was with him rather than Oliver, and Petra didn’t have the immediate strength to resist.

  To look at, Neil’s stepmother wasn’t nearly so frightening as Petra had expected. Janey, too, was a surprise. She was a small girl, without Petra’s slim fineness of limb, but she looked soft and very attractive in a kittenish way. And her eyes, Petra saw, were full of undisguised adoration when they rested eagerly on Oliver. Clearly, for all to see, she was in love with him and would take badly to anything which might upset her plans.

  They were barely through the door before she flew into Oliver’s arms and began kissing him, soft, adoring little kisses which he didn’t seem altogether adverse to even if his eyes met Petra’s apologetically over the top of Janey’s dark curly head as he hugged her close.

  Neil, as if endeavouring tactfully to give them a moment to themselves, drew Petra away to be introduced to his stepmother.

  It wouldn’t have been exaggerating to say Mrs. Cameron seemed taken aback at the sight of Petra’s pale beauty, which shone quite obviously, even through her untidiness. Mrs. Cameron’s eyes, no less ruthless than her stepson’s, sharpened instantly, although her tone was deceptively mild. ‘Neil has been explaining about you, my dear. Your background intrigues me.’

  Petra had the impression it might, but for no particularly charitable reasons! She held out her hand, well aware that Mrs. Cameron was withholding her immediate approval. The woman had viewed her arrival with Oliver too astutely for it to be otherwise. Recalling Neil’s warning that Mrs. Cameron would never tolerate any threat to her daughter’s happiness, Petra shivered inwardly.

  Mrs. Cameron was smart, not much past middle-age, though, as she obviously spent a great deal on her face and figure, it would be difficult to tell. Janey, by contrast, seemed gentle and yielding, but Petra thought Oliver could have been slightly wrong about her being easily led. Petra felt, when Oliver brought her over to join them, that at the back of Janey’s eyes lay more than a hint of determination. Quiet people, she reflected, were often stubborn. The old gardener at Redwell used to say this. He’d said the same applied to plants. It was the nondescript ones which usually flourished as they were usually determined not to be pushed out.

  Although Janey’s smile was much warmer than her mother’s she was clearly bewildered when Oliver gravitated to Petra’s side. Petra, aware of a returning grimness to Neil’s mouth, was acutely embarrassed by his continued attention, especially when Janey so patently wanted him to herself. She begged to be ex
cused to change for dinner and, as the other two ladies were already dressed, Mrs. Cameron graciously granted her request. That Oliver was staying appeared to be taken for granted. Wistfully Petra thought of the evenings when she and David had dined with Neil alone. How, after David had gone to bed, she and Neil had talked. If their conversation hadn’t always been without tension at least she had never experienced the awkwardness she felt now with Mrs. Cameron’s coolly critical eyes upon her. It made her shrink unconsciously nearer to Oliver, whereas otherwise she would have sought to avoid him.

  All the time she dressed for dinner her thoughts kept returning to that incident on the island. With other company around Oliver was well enough, but to be alone with him was to realise that all her old aversion regarding men still remained. With Oliver it wasn’t exactly as it had been with those few men at work who had tried to molest her but, deep down, she still didn’t care to be touched. On the island he had asked her to marry him, which surely proved he was entirely honourable, even if marrying him was something she could never consider. She didn’t love him, and naturally he belonged to Janey.

  Petra didn’t know why she should concentrate so fiercely on Oliver and she didn’t try to find out. Better he than that other, more formidable personality, Neil Cameron. She breathed his name painfully, hoping she had mistaken the promise of a showdown she didn’t look forward to. There was nothing to explain why, for a flickering second, when she had first seen him this afternoon, she had known such a surge of blinding delight. Nothing to tell her why, when she allowed herself to dwell on it, she had experienced a sudden urgent longing to be in his arms again, even to feel the derisive coolness of his lips. Yet his mouth wasn’t always cool and there existed a curious magnetism between them which could make nonsense of her dislike of a man’s arms.