A Man Called Cameron

by Margaret Pargeter

  ‘No case whatsoever, Petronella, and I’m glad you acknowledge it. I have no wish to live with constant recriminations.’

  It was times like this when she hated him. Keeping her head lowered so he wouldn’t see the angry sparkle in her eyes, she tried to speak levelly. ‘How about your family? Janey might accept me, but are you sure Mrs. Cameron will?’

  ‘Just help Janey get married,’ he assured her coolly, ‘and I think you’ll find no one will mind a thing.’

  ‘What if Janey minds being pushed around?’ Petra persisted, not altogether convinced. Neil’s whole attitude towards both Janey and her mother she found confusing.

  ‘So long as you push her in Oliver’s direction, she’ll have no objections,’ he replied. ‘She’ll get much more out of a husband than she gets out of me, and I’m not exactly ungenerous.’

  He really did want poor Janey off his hands! After this was accomplished to his satisfaction, would it be her turn? Mightn’t he be planning even now to get rid of her as easily as Janey?

  About to question him more closely, Petra suddenly found herself unable to utter another word. She started to shake as everything that had happened over the past few weeks began catching up on her. A strange trembling attacked her limbs which she couldn’t stop or seem to hide. There was a frightening feeling that she was going to pass out and there was nothing she could do about it. ‘Neil!’ she breathed, her eyes mutely appealing in the deathly whiteness of her face.

  She knew nothing of Neil dropping down on his knees and catching her as she slumped over, of putting strong arms around her shuddering body and drawing her close. She only knew that the effort it cost not to slip completely into an enticing oblivion was an almost physical pain.

  While she longed for a few comforting words, the ones he spoke were far from that. ‘Is this because of David or Oliver?’ he asked tersely. Then, when she couldn’t reply, ‘One of the first lessons in growing up, Petronella, is to learn that we can’t always have things our own way. I’ve agreed to everything you want regarding David, so I guess it’s not him.’

  A half hysterical sob rose to Petra’s tight throat which she could barely suppress. Neil must think what he liked! Through a thick haze she realised that if she was to stay at the ranch it was better that he should believe she cared for some other man. Otherwise he might suspect where her feelings really lay. Not that she knew now whether she loved Neil or not. How could she possibly love a man so lacking in sensitivity that he didn’t hesitate to deride her, even when she felt ill! If he imagined she was merely pining after Oliver, well, let him!

  ‘Petronella!’ As if her shivering body alarmed and disturbed him, his arms tightened. ‘You know this will pass. Oliver would never have made you happy. Besides, you couldn’t respond to other men the way you do if you loved him.’

  For a long moment indignation warred with shock as she understood the implications of what he had said. He couldn’t possibly have guessed! If she could find the strength she must deny it and push him away ... ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she whispered, on another dry sob, which seemed to prevent her somehow from escaping.

  ‘You don’t?’ Careless of her shivering disability, or taking advantage of it, he pushed the heavy hair back from her hot forehead. His hand touched the creamy skin of her cheek and slid around under her chin, lifting her mouth to his slowly descending one. ‘This could prove the best antidote for a lot of the troubles which beset you, as well as answering your naive question,’ he murmured.

  If she had wanted his tenderness she wasn’t to get it.

  The swift kisses he pressed on her quivering mouth were like a prelude to much wilder music. He seemed intent on tasting the glittering tears which fell from her suddenly drenched eyes and trickled their way into his mouth. There was something faintly sensuous about the way he traced them down her cheek, the way his fingers eased the slight tension around her lips, gently forcing them apart. Then his mouth closed on hers with a small exclamation of possession and the desire to fight him left her.

  After the first minute her mouth began to open on its own accord as great swirls of sensation began to multiply and consume her. Feeling her vulnerable response, he lifted her completely into his arms, holding her trembling body to him, exploring her mouth with a driving masculinity until the cascade of feeling between them mounted inexorably.

  All need to escape him, to hate him, rapidly dissolved into a molten, tempestuous urgency to get as near to him as possible. He was holding her with passion and enough violence to make the blood pound in her ears. It was frightening the delight he gave her as he half turned, pinning her beneath him, his hand sliding under her thin shirt to close over the full curve of her breast without seeking permission or offering apology.

  ‘Don’t try to fight it!’ she heard him mutter thickly against her bruised lips. ‘Remember we have a ghost to exorcise.’

  She felt bound and helpless, almost drugged with sensation, not able to think as she lay, a not unwilling prisoner in his arms. Did he mean Oliver or those other men—how could he imagine they involved her thoughts now? Unable to stop herself, she arched shamelessly against him, gripped in a kind of nervous, shaking intensity as he eased the weight of his heavy body slightly, allowing his hands to caress her fully. She lay rapt, her skin burning to his touch but finding it irresistible. Her heart raced under his moving hand and there was nothing she could do or wanted to do to stop it. Her arms gripped his broad shoulders and then crossed behind his neck and, unbidden, her mouth moved against his as if trying to transmit her unsatisfied yearning. It was frightening and spellbinding, the way he seemed quite literally to possess her without actually doing a thing. It was devastating, a breathless devouring excitement which must surely arrive at its own natural conclusion.

  Seconds later she felt cheated, consumed by frustration when he lifted his strong head and put her gently from him. Her hair danced in silken disarray about her flushed cheeks, brushing across the stormy longing in her grey eyes. Oddly, as her heavy lashes lifted, she felt bereft of words.

  ‘Neil?’ she whispered, as if begging for a logical explanation as to why the magic which had caught them up in whirling wings couldn’t continue.

  ‘I might never have let you escape,’ he looked at her so coolly she felt a sting of humiliation, ‘but the purpose of this exercise wasn’t to see how far I could go. You were on the verge of hysteria and it sometimes takes one shock to combat another. Do you feel better now?’

  Better! How could he ask it? ‘No,’ she said sullenly, her face mirroring all too clearly her thoughts. They were still close, even if he held her at arms’ length. Surely he couldn’t pretend to be indifferent? ‘Neil?’ Blindly she inched nearer, uncaring that he might think her without modesty, as she reached out to him.

  He was one step ahead of her as usual. ‘Petronella,’ he exclaimed sternly, thrusting away her groping hands, disallowing her ragged breathing, ‘this is what I meant when I said you were too vulnerable where men are concerned. You have to grow up.’

  This really did bring Petra to her senses. She couldn’t think of a more beastly thing he might have said. Did he truly believe she responded like this to every man who looked her way? If so, she was better off without him. She shrank back from him as if suddenly stung, yet she could only think to say, ‘I’m not a child!’

  He paled, as if for one indiscreet moment he would have liked to agree. ‘We’ll argue about that another day,’ he smiled soberly, jumping suddenly to his feet. ‘I have a basket in the helicopter with some food and coffee. If you have something before we go you’ll soon feel yourself.’ Before he came back she made a valiant effort to pull herself completely together, and must have partly succeeded as Neil seemed to relax when he returned with the basket and looked at her.

  ‘How did you know you were going to need it?’ she asked, striving to maintain an appearance of normality.

  ‘I didn’t,’ he shrugged, setting out cups and uncorki
ng a flask. ‘I had intended spending the day in the high country and Mrs. Allen had this ready for me.’

  ‘But you didn’t go, to the high country, I mean?’

  He tossed her a sandwich which she guessed had never been designed for a lady. ‘I guess something made me change my mind, but we’ll leave it for now. When a man isn’t sure he’s acting wisely it can rankle.’

  With Neil Cameron it would. She had never met a man so sure of himself. Yet only a little bit of it, she conceded, was arrogance. His was the kind of assurance other people relied on. The kind to make a woman feel cherished and protected. Her father had had it, if not nearly to such a degree. No doubt, she thought, her mind winging back to Neil, Janey was the reason for Neil’s uncommon confusion and Petra would be unwise to insist on further discussion. It could be pushing her luck too far. He had seen Janey’s future happiness endangered and rushed to her rescue. It was as simple as that. ‘Thank you, Cameron,’ she murmured, absently accepting a mug of steaming coffee.

  ‘That’s another thing,’ he took up crisply, as when their fingers inevitably touched her eyes flew compulsively to his face.

  ‘What?’ she whispered, feeling tautly disturbed again. ‘I want no more Camerons. From now on it has to be Neil.’ When he issued an order like that there was nothing she could do about it.

  ‘If you say so—Neil.’

  ‘There,’ his glance was studied, ‘no worse than having a tooth pulled out.’

  What did he know about that, with his perfect set! ‘I’ll feel like a stranger. It came with your portrait. We all called you Cameron.’

  ‘It might not be a bad thing to begin all over again, then.’

  ‘I’m not sure I would want that!’ she choked fervently on a crumb, but the sandwiches and coffee were having a beneficial effect. They even gave her the strength to attack him coldly. ‘I think it was criminal of you not to introduce yourself straight away. I could be excused, with all that mud on your face, but I don’t know why you did it.’

  He glanced at her rather grimly. ‘I don’t know myself exactly. I never thought to see the day when a mere girl would get under my skin to the extent of making me act very much out of character. I suspect Jake is still trying to figure it out.’

  ‘Perhaps it was a touch of the sun?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He was narrowly non-committal as he watched the neat pile of sandwiches disappearing. ‘When did you last eat, Petronella?’ he drawled.

  Not until then did she realise he had contented himself with coffee and she hastily pushed the last of the food towards him. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said hastily, her cheeks pink.

  ‘Did you have any breakfast?’

  ‘No. I wasn’t hungry.’

  ‘I noticed myself you ate very little at dinner last night. Did you sleep?’ he asked smoothly, his eyes sharply on her.

  ‘No...’

  ‘I thought not.’ The dark blue of his eyes glittered. ‘But I’d advise you in future to mend your ways. If you intend being much use to me, Petronella!’

  CHAPTER NINE

  All the way back to the ranch Petra wondered if she was doing the right thing, and the next few days were to bring no clear answer. It seemed ironical that having reached the goal she had set out to achieve, she should be so filled with apprehension for the future. Hiding her real feelings for Neil Cameron would be difficult enough, but the thought suddenly struck her that he might one day get married. While she didn’t dare ask him about this, Janey had mentioned he had several close women friends. A man like Neil Cameron would! Didn’t it follow, then, that he would eventually ask one of them to come and share his life, here at the ranch?

  Petra felt a wave of desolation strike into her cruelly. It might be isolated, sometimes even frugal, but a more wonderful existence she could scarcely envisage, now that she had come to love it almost as much as she did its owner. Any woman might jump at the chance of marrying Neil Cameron, but wouldn’t it take a very special person? There might be no shortage of money, but that seemed only of secondary importance here. Here an ability to adapt to quite a lonely environment, a basic love of country things would take precedence over most everything else. It was one thing to consider Neil’s marriage logically in her mind but quite another to subdue the increasing clamour of her own hungry body. She must stay because, at the moment, she had no other option, but she could make sure that when the time came for Neil to take a bride she was in a position to take herself off elsewhere.

  At the ranch no one seemed surprised to see her back, which made Petra wonder if anyone apart from Mrs. Allen had known anything about her going away. That David was completely happy with the new arrangements seemed the thing which really mattered. In retrospect the whole incident of their leaving, including the interlude in Neil’s arms, which he had meant to be comforting, was terrifying, but she would almost be willing to do it again to see the delight in David’s face when she had told him her news. Ignoring her doubts, she assured him the arrangement was permanent, at least until he had finished his education, and was rewarded with a warm hug.

  Petra, ashamed that she might have led him to believe she had gained a kind of major victory, said, ‘You realise Neil doesn’t really owe us a thing, so we should be grateful?’ She went on to tell him about Mrs. Allen leaving. ‘I’m going to take over her duties, David, but this will never be enough to cover the cost of everything. I don’t see how we’ll ever be able to repay, but one day we might have an opportunity.’

  Which sounded horribly vague, but it was the best she could do.

  David didn’t seem at all daunted by the idea of boarding school, not even when it was now almost a reality. ‘I know it might be tough to begin with, Petra, and I’m going to miss you, but I’ll be twelve, and once I get used to it, it’ll be fun. You see, I’m going to need this education if I’m going to do all the things I want to. Dad told me how it was at school with him and Neil enjoyed it too. Neil has explained a whole lot. He sure is a nice guy, Petra!’

  Wryly she winced. David picked it all up from the boys, but while it came naturally from them, David’s often exaggerated enunciation sounded amusing. But she got used to it and as he grew up his enthusiasm for a new vocabulary would surely calm down. For the moment he had transferred his attention to a pair of old sixguns which he wore stuck realistically in a gunbelt. Neil had assured her mildly that he was sure this wouldn’t pave the way for future violence.

  Mrs. Allen, Petra decided, was too keen to get away to bother herself with what had happened between Neil and Petra. She seemed intent on leaving and was looking forward to New York. Maybe because of this she was more communicative than she had been since Petra had arrived and was quite willing to explain where everything was kept. She even went so far as to show Petra around the house, which the girl supposed she would have done with whoever had been taking over. Everything was more or less as Petra had expected. It was large and rambling with numerous bedrooms besides her own leading off the long, white corridor upstairs. Neil’s own room gave Petra a jolt, although she had stiffened herself against it as Mrs. Allen had opened the door. His bed was still unmade, the imprint of his head still cm the pillow, his bedcovers in a tumbled heap, almost on the floor, as if they had been thrown impatiently aside when he had got up. She had stood numbly, a curious weakness invading her limbs while Mrs. Allen crossly clicked her tongue as she picked things up. At the same time she had remarked that Neil’s room was not normally like this, and, while he liked his bed made, on no account did he approve of anyone invading his privacy afterwards. Petra’s face had grown hot as she neatly folded his pyjama trousers, as instructed. There was no sign of any top. When she had asked, Mrs. Allen had said shortly he didn’t wear any. It was only then that Petra recognised suffocatingly that there might be certain aspects to her new job which she’d never considered. Mrs. Allen, she was glad to note, hadn’t seemed to see her burning cheeks, but then she wasn’t in the mood to notice anything. She seemed only too relieved that Neil ha
d found someone so quickly and was quite prepared to think Petra very suitable, being his cousin.

  As Neil had predicted, his stepmother made little demur when she learnt of Petra’s new role, but as she had been heard to say she disapproved of vague relations being kept in idleness perhaps this was not surprising. So far as it went, Petra’s gratitude towards the woman was short-lived as Mrs. Cameron appeared to think she was here to order at will. And as for Neil himself, while he treated her civilly in the presence of others, he made no great secret of the fact that she was no longer a guest in his house. Yet his attitude stiffened her backbone as nothing else might have done. When Janey pointed out sharply that some of the stock-men’s wives might have managed as well as she was doing, Petra decided she would show them, even if she worked her fingers to the bone!

  This didn’t actually come to pass for, as Janey had pointed out, she did have plenty of help. She did try, however, to impress, maybe more than she might otherwise have done. She had persevered with French cookery at school, after discovering she had a natural talent for it, and afterwards, at Redwell, when her father had entertained, she had occasionally produced some exotic dishes which earned unstinting praise. Here, alas, she soon realised that her attempt to make an impression had misfired. Oliver, arriving on the first evening after Mrs. Allen’s departure, was so generous with his appreciation that he scarcely took his eyes off her, and Janey looked mortally offended.

  ‘Not the most brilliant of moves!’ Neil said dryly, as he invaded the kitchen after dinner.

  Unhappily Petra didn’t have to ask him to explain, although she privately decided a lot of things might be better left unsaid. ‘How was I to know?’ she retorted vaguely. She didn’t want to enter into another argument about Oliver. Inside she felt more than a little exhausted, the last few days seeming to have been even more of a strain than those which had preceded them.