‘Petra!’ he exclaimed, frowning. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I’m sorry, Oliver.’ She changed into neutral and put a foot on the brake, but this was all. She had no desire to waste time over useless explanations. ‘We can’t stop and talk, Oliver, we’re in a hurry.’
‘You’re leaving?
‘It looks like it,’ she smiled briefly.
‘Petra!’
Oliver’s voice was suddenly so urgent she had to stop him. Somehow she sensed what was coming and wished to spare him the humiliation of being refused twice. She could never marry him, not after knowing Neil. He had spoilt her for any other men.
‘Please!’ she entreated him sharply, before turning hurriedly to David. ‘Just wait a second, David,’ she said, ‘I just want a word with Oliver.’
Quickly she jumped out to join him, brushing her long hair from out of her eyes as the light breeze caught it. David mustn’t hear. It might sound too much like a betrayal, denying David a second chance, but she knew she couldn’t ever belong to Oliver now.
Yet, for a moment, he was very persuasive. Staring at her hot, unhappy face, he accused her loudly, ‘You never told me!’
‘We only decided this morning, in rather a hurry.’
He frowned, not so easily deceived as she’d hoped. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Back home, to England.’
‘Petra,’ he began hoarsely, his voice so full of pleading she had to steel herself. ‘Darling ...’
Then suddenly, before he could continue, there was the whirr of the forgotten helicopter above them, and the noise of its landing was so deafening that further speech was impossible.
‘What the devil!’ Oliver’s eyes, narrowing to slits against the sun, showed angry surprise. ‘Oh,’ he shouted, just as the powerful engine purred into silence, ‘it’s only Neil!’ Neil it was, and though her heart pounded with shock, Petra only stared at him dully. Had he come to wish David and her a belated goodbye? He had said, last night, he wouldn’t see them again, but he must have changed his mind.
Oliver’s gaze was sullen as Neil approach them. He looked tall and virile, certainly as if he had enjoyed a good night’s sleep, Petra thought bitterly. After that first swift impression she found she couldn’t look at his face. As he strode up to them she kept her eyes glued to the road, praying it would not be many minutes before both men were gone.
After one brief nod Neil ignored Oliver. His eyes were on Petra and, although she didn’t look at him, she could almost feel their sharp impact. ‘I want you to come with me, Petronella,’ he commanded coolly, confounding her impression that he had merely dropped down to say farewell, or remind her of another sin she had forgotten. His usual slow drawl was gone and he sounded very decisive—so much so that Petra couldn’t now stop herself from staring at him, searching for words of refusal which wouldn’t come. But, as if curiously struck dumb, she made no move towards the helicopter, which must surely indicate her desire to remain where she was.
Before Oliver, either, could voice any verbal protest, Neil instructed him curtly, ‘You can take David back to the ranch with you in your truck. Janey is waiting, she mentioned that you’re going on a picnic. Mrs. Allen has promised to keep an eye on David until his sister and I return. I’m afraid there’s been a slight misunderstanding.’
Carelessly, as if he had merely been discussing the weather, he turned and bent his head to the car window on David’s side, speaking to him in a low voice Petra couldn’t hear. Whatever it was she couldn’t account for the expression of dawning delight which spread across David’s freckled, anxious features, nor did she catch his whispered reply.
Coming out of her brief trance, she only knew it was about time she put an end to such nonsense. If Neil was intent on prolonging the agony of parting then she must refuse to go along with it. Oliver, to her amazement, as if he recognised in Neil a stronger personality, made no further objection but proceeded towards his truck, obviously expecting David to follow.
‘Don’t!’ Petra called, making a dive for her car door. Angrily she glanced at Neil. ‘I’m not coming with you, Neil Cameron, I think we’ve talked enough!’
David, taking advantage of the fact that Neil whipped immediately to Petra’s side, scurried after Oliver like a rabbit.
‘David!’ she cried, panic-stricken, but he didn’t hear her—or pretended not to.
‘Come on!’ As Petra stared helplessly after the fast disappearing station wagon, she felt herself almost lifted across the grass into the helicopter. Then they were in the air, scattering a shower of birds, Neil looking as if it was all in the day’s work.
The small red car was still at the side of the road, and she heard him calling the ranch, telling Jake to send a man to collect it. His package, along with her handbag, he had taken from the back seat as he’d talked to David. These he dropped on her lap, taking no notice when she sullenly thrust them away.
She had no idea where he was taking her. She felt so churned up inside that, to begin with anyway, everything out the windows dissolved into a misty blur. Even to look at Neil was enough to make her shudder, as she began apprehensively to realise just how much she really cared for him. If she had hoped it was just imagination, to see him again was to be forced to acknowledge the truth. She didn’t know what she was going to do about it, but right at that moment she didn’t seem to care. Everything, these last few minutes, had happened so quickly, she couldn’t seem to take in that any of it was real. She had an odd inclination to both laugh and cry and it took every bit of her dwindling control to do neither.
His hands were sure and strong on the controls and while she knew he was an excellent pilot, today he seemed preoccupied, as if his mind was not wholly on the job. It couldn’t be on her, either, Petra hazarded, as he hadn’t addressed a word to her since they had left the ground. Nor had he looked at her after assuring himself she was safely seated.
Blindly she turned again to the window, this time concentrating. They were leaving the flat, rolling prairie, skimming the foothills, and beyond these she could see the mountains. She had never flown here before and found she had a superb view of the high peaks with their abrupt slopes and irregular surfaces, many of which were cut deep with canyons and ravines. It was the eastern side of the Rockies and Alberta was world-famous for its mountain scenery. The mountains stretched, she knew, in many places over a hundred miles wide with many of the peaks ranging over twelve and thirteen thousand feet high, Mount Logan in the Yukon being four thousand feet higher than Mont Blanc in the Alps.
Like a sleepwalker she began counting the many small lakes which carried their reflection and felt faintly put out when Neil came down by one of them. They had it all to themselves, it was like being in a beautiful wilderness and even though Petra was getting used to such magnificent scenery she never failed to be startled by it. It always appeared to her like a veritable paradise, or could have been, she thought ruefully, if she hadn’t known a man called Cameron!
Scarcely able to bring herself to do so, she turned her fair head to see what he was doing. He was too familiar with the terrain to be admiring it as she was doing. He talked about fishing, easily catching a dozen trout before breakfast, about riding and hunting, camping out just for pleasure but, like any native, she doubted if he ever saw it through a visitor’s incredulous, appreciative eyes.
Now, as she suspected, his eyes were not on the surrounding countryside. They were on her, narrowly, as if he was still trying to make up his mind about something. Whatever was on his mind, Petra decided, must have got there in a hurry. That was if it concerned her, which seemed likely. Last night he had had everything cut and dried, he had only wanted to be rid of her. Whatever accounted for this change of front, if this was what this was, escaped her imagination.
She didn’t fool herself, however, that he was very kindly disposed towards her. The face he surveyed her from was still hard, lacking any remorseful tenderness which might have brought a thread of
reassurance, yet when he spoke there was no hint of his former harshness in his voice.
‘You’d better get down,’ he said, ‘and we’ll sit by the lake. It will be pleasanter than staying in here.’
When she made no attempt to move his glance sharpened and he slid lightly from his door to move around to hers. ‘Here,’ he held up his arms obligingly, ‘let me help you. You look a little stunned.’
Not knowing what else to do, she lifted her hands like a child, placing them on his broad shoulders, obeying as if without a will of her own. When he lifted her on to the ground it seemed to heave momentarily beneath her feet, but this was all. ‘Thank you,’ she breathed unevenly, her gaze managing no further than his chin.
As his hands released their grip on her narrow waist she felt a tremor run through her and turned swiftly from him to find a patch of soft grass. Not wanting to look at him again right away, she stared about her, noticing the tall ponderosa pines and how the silver willow dipped to the pale green water. Her eyes strayed towards the wave-washed pebbles on the shore and moved on, across the wind-rippled surface, to the rocks which formed part of the mountain wall at the other side of the lake.
Piles of driftwood lay twisted and wrinkled about them, dry as tinder from the heat of the sun. Neil piled a heap of it and, her eyes drawn back to him dully, Petra watched him take a match from his pocket and apply a flame.
‘It isn’t really cold, but we’re high up and the air is fresh off the water. A fire is cheerful,’ he smiled grimly, as if nothing else came into this category.
Petra tried, but she couldn’t manage to return his smile, if that was what it was, but she did feel slightly better because of the fire. As it crackled and blazed it was something she could pretend to be absorbed in, and it provided an excuse not to look at her tormentor.
He sat down about a couple of feet from her, on a log. ‘I brought you up here,’ he said, looking down on her, ‘because I wanted you away from the ranch, where you won’t be influenced by atmosphere, if you like.’
‘We talked last night,’ she returned stiffly. ‘I can’t think there’s anything left to say.’
His eyes grew darker at her careless tones and he retorted with what seemed an effort, ‘Quite a lot, now that I’ve had time to think things over. You must admit you did rather spring things on me?’
Somehow she couldn’t go along with this opinion. ‘You don’t seem a man easily surprised by anything. I’ve always imagined you take most things in your stride.’
‘Most things,’ he agreed suavely, ‘but blackmail is a bit out of the ordinary. It takes some time to come to terms with it—almost more than I could swallow.’
‘Blackmail!’ she exclaimed incredulously.
‘Petronella!’ His own exclamation was softer, if more deadly, as he noticed her indignant colour. ‘You threatened to tell my neighbours unless I paid up. What else would you call that?’
‘I remember,’ she stammered in confusion, ‘but it wasn’t really like that, as you must know. I’m not after money! All I want is a settled home for David.’
‘And if I don’t give him one you’re having to consider who else will?’
It was then, as she shot a startled glance at his taut face, that she realised what this was all about. At least she thought she did. This morning, after she had gone, it had suddenly come to him that she might easily bump into Oliver. It was not beyond contemplating that he might just as easily have visualised her calling at Oliver’s home to beg for shelter. Janey would naturally have told him about the picnic and he had simply put two and two together and chased after her. He was either very fond of Janey or determined to get rid of her and was not going to allow Petra to upset his plans. Rather than do this he would offer Petra a home until the danger was over. Not, of course, that he had offered yet, she could be vastly mistaken in her wild conclusions.
Maybe she wasn’t being fair. He wanted the best for his stepsister and wouldn’t see her heart broken, which might be the natural conclusion if Oliver went off with another girl. Petra could have laughed if she hadn’t felt so miserable. Didn’t Neil have any idea how she felt about him? Didn’t he realise she could never marry Oliver Hurd, nor ask him for asylum, even if he hadn’t lived on Neil’s doorstep—fifty miles being considered just that, in this country!
Not sure how to tell Neil this, Petra hesitated, her hurt pride making it far from easy to put it into words. What excuse could she offer for not accepting Oliver’s proposal? How could she confess it was because she loved another man? Neil would guess. Hadn’t he held her in his arms? He had known how deeply she had responded. One hint that she wasn’t interested in Oliver and the game would be up. Neil was so many years older and wiser. He was too astute.
‘Petronella!’ he was prompting, tersely impatient when she didn’t speak. ‘I asked you a question, and I’m having to guess the answer. I’m going to ask another and this time I want a straight reply, not a lot of anxious sighing! What was Oliver saying to you with that look on his face?’
‘Nothing.’ In spite of the warning just issued, Petra hung her head stubbornly. He couldn’t physically wring it out of her and he had no right to know the answer to—some things!
Before she could continue he bit off contemptuously, ‘Okay, Petronella, you don’t have to put yourself out. Some things I can read quite plainly on your face. Suppose we leave Oliver for a few minutes and I’ll tell you what I propose?’
Unbidden, David’s expression, as she had last seen it beside the car, came back to her. ‘David looked so happy!’ Antagonism burst into speech. ‘I can’t think what you told him, but if you said he could stay then I think you’re cruel!
‘Hush!’ he commanded sharply ‘Just listen. You want him to have a good education?’
‘A good home as much as anything,’ she protested wearily.
‘If he could have both, how grateful would you be?’ Gratitude? A wave of apprehension widened her smoky grey eyes. He had never mentioned such a thing before. It could mean anything. She wasn’t exactly a fool!
‘Not what you’re thinking, not yet anyway,’ he assured her cryptically. ‘I need someone at the ranch and you could be useful. Manna from heaven, maybe, only I didn’t realise it until this morning.’
‘How could I be useful?’ she asked carefully, trying to steady her thudding heart. It was amazing the effect this man had on her. To think of being near him again, every day, was almost enough to make her feel dizzy.
Just as carefully he watched her. ‘Mrs. Allen’s leaving. It’s been on the cards for some time, events recently have merely precipitated it a little. She’s getting on and her brother, whose wife has died recently in New York, wants her to join him. So it follows I’ll need a new housekeeper.’ Never in a thousand years had Petra expected this. Nor had she ever seen herself as a housekeeper, although she was fully conversant with their duties as they had always had one at Redwell. Slightly stunned, she asked tentatively, ‘How about Mrs. Cameron? Won’t she mind?’
He shook his dark head solemnly. ‘No—for many reasons, but I’ll confine myself to two. Fay isn’t interested in anything domestic and she can’t abide the ranch since my father died.’
‘There’s still Janey.’
‘Ah, yes, Janey.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I would never allow her to become entrenched in such a position. This is where I shall expect you to really put yourself out. I want her married to Oliver. Think you could face up to that?’ he sneered.
‘I don’t know ...’ Petra was aware of his narrowed eyes on her hot cheeks and wished she felt free to tell him she would help every way she could to do as he asked, and with pleasure, as she felt sure Janey and Oliver were right for each other. But if Neil was assured that she thought like this mightn’t he have second thoughts about asking her to stay? Wasn’t it because he was afraid she might pinch Oliver from under Janey’s nose that he was so magnanimously offering her a job and a home? It was quite clear that he felt duty bound to have her where h
e could keep an eye on her. For David’s sake she must swallow her pride, the last bit she seemed to have left, and pretend she wouldn’t mind being Neil Cameron’s slave, even to being treated like a doormat! Having to see Neil every day, feeling as she did about him, might be the biggest hurdle, but not insurmountable, if she put her mind to it.
‘Well, what conclusions have you come to, Miss Sinclair?’
Doubtfully she glanced up at him. ‘If you think I can do it?’
‘Come on,’ visibly his strong shoulder muscles appeared to relax, ‘where’s all that warlike confidence? Mrs. Allen won’t leave until the end of the week and is willing to show you the ropes. The widow of one of our stockmen is still with us and comes in every day, as you know. The other wives help when we want them.’
‘Seems like I’ll just need to sit on a stool and give orders,’ she returned, deliberately flippant.
‘Don’t delude yourself, Petronella. You’ll do more than that.’
‘And—in exchange?’
‘I’ll keep you, clothe you and send David to a good school. Afterwards to my old college, if he makes the grade.’
That sounded ominous! If they both made the grade, he probably meant. Long years of domestic servitude stretched endlessly before her. Not that she would have minded this if Neil had loved her, but, under the present circumstances, could she ever stick it out? How could she bear such a sort of closely distant relationship? ‘I won’t be able to repay you,’ she mumbled, staring away from him.
‘I thought it was I who was in your debt. I distinctly recall your saying so,’ he taunted.
‘I remember,’ her head drooped as she bit her lip sharply. ‘It was what I’d been led to believe, but I realise that I haven’t a strong case.’
A Man Called Cameron Page 15