by Dorothy Cork
Walkabout Wife by Dorothy Cork
"Why not answer this ad for a wife?"
Edie's apartment mate had been joking when she mentioned the advertisement in the paper. But somehow, the idea appealed. Edie was tired of men who never thought of marriage. And wasn't it true that arranged marriages often worked out well? Anyway, there was no harm answering. Drew Sutton, the advertiser, turned out to be the handsomest man Edie had ever seen. He was certainly interested in marriage—but only temporarily—and was not at all interested in love....
Printed in U.S.A.
OTHER Harlequin Romances by DOROTHY CORK
1511—WHERE BLACK SWANS FLY 1549—A NIGHT FOR POSSUMS 1644—WAYAWAY
1668—SUMMER MOUNTAIN 1692—BUTTERFLY MONTANE 1714—SPIRIT OF THE SUN 1757—THE GIRL AT SALTBUSH FLAT 1784—THE RED PLAINS OF JOUNIMA
1812—A PROMISE TO KEEP 1876--GATE OF THE GOLDEN GAZELLE 1894—QUICKSILVER SUMMER 1927—WANDALILLI PRINCESS 1966—RED DIAMOND
2057—DREAM TIME AT BIG SKY 2115—BREAKERS ON THE BEACH 2139—OUTBACK RAINBOW 2199—A THOUSAND MILES AWAY 2242—FORGET AND FORGIVE 2253—HEART OF THE WHIRLWIND 2259—ISLAND OF ESCAPE
Many of these titles are available at your local bookseller or through the Harlequin Reader Service.
For a free catalogue listing all available Harlequin Romances, send your name and address to:
HARLEQUIN READER SERVICE, M.P.O. Box 707, Niagara Falls, N.Y. 14302
Canadian address: Stratford, Ontario, Canada N5A 6W2 or use coupon at back of book.
Original hardcover edition published 1979 by Mills & Boon Limited
ISBN 0-373-02288-3
Harlequin edition published October 1979
Copyright © 1979 by Dorothy Cork.
Philippine copyright 1979. Australian copyright 1979.
rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization his work in whole or In part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, to copying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, forbidden without the permission of the publisher. All the characters in this )k have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not in distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
Harlequin trademark, consisting of the word HARLEQUIN and, the trademark of a Harlequin, is registered in the United States Patent Office and the Canada Trade Marks Office.
CHAPTER ONE
WHAT would he be like? Edie Asher wondered, looking bemusedly down from the aircraft to see its tiny shadow flitting like a bird across the spinifex-dotted plains below.
His name was Drew Sutton and he was a cattleman who wanted a wife, and that was virtually all she knew about him. Tall and lean and rangy was how she chose to imagine him, with a faraway look in his screwed-up eyes that came from gazing across the vast paddocks where his cattle roamed. He'd have a lazy drawling voice and he'd be fairly taciturn, so that she'd have to take the lead in the conversation. That he was a man of few words had been clearly indicated by the advertisement he'd put in the Sydney newspaper : Cattleman seeks wife, preferably under the age of thirty-five. A box number followed and that was all. Short and to the point.
`Exactly what you're looking for, Edie,' Barb had enthused. 'A man who wants to get married and no messing about! Why don't you grab your pen now and get in ahead of the rush?'
She hadn't seriously meant it, of course, but at odd intervals during that day, the idea popped in and out of Edie's mind. The fact was, she was absolutely sick and tired of men who weren't interested in marriage, and Joe's proposition the previous night had been just
the final straw. It had been her day off and they'd been to dinner and then to a show, and when they came back to the flat she'd asked him in, because she liked him so much. Barb's door had been shut and her light was out, and soon Joe was kissing her and muttering things about wanting her and insisting, 'You don't have a lot of old-fashioned ideas about marriage, do you, Edie?' Edie did, and in a very old-fashioned way she started fighting for her virtue.
It had all been very wearying and very disillusioning, and she'd finally got rid of him by threatening to wake Barb.
In the morning, over their usual quick and easy breakfast in the kitchen, Barb had asked, 'How did it go last night, Edie? Was it a good evening? You're rather keen on Joe, aren't you?'
Edie gave a washed-out smile. Barb was older than she was, and worked as a biochemist at the hospital where she had done her nurse's training. 'Oh yes, it was a good evening—till he brought me home. I asked him in, but after he'd kissed me he wanted everything—right away! He's just the same as the others, and I won't go out with him again—not ever!'
Barb reached over for the instant coffee. 'Why ever not?' she asked imperturbably. 'I mean, men do have a habit of wanting everything, as you put it, once you've let them go so far. And anyhow, what sort of a man would he be if he didn't want everything, for goodness' sake? That way, at least you can be sure he's perfectly normal. Besides, I thought this time you were really in love.'
`Then I'm not anymore,' Edie said shortly. 'I'm normal too and I want to get married. I didn't want the other sort of arrangement ... I'm sick of men,' she added after a moment. 'I'm twenty-two and I
haven't had one single proposal of marriage. I really thought Joe was different—I really thought he wanted to marry me. But he doesn't—so we're through.'
`Oh, honestly, Edie !' Barb was a little impatient. `Do you really mean to say that if he'd asked you to marry him last night you'd have been all starry-eyed and in love this morning—yakking away about bridesmaids, and asking him down to Wollongong to meet your sister? And contemplating sleeping with him after a certain date with perfect equanimity? But because the poor guy just wanted to make love to you, you don't even like him anymore ! That's really kinky !'
`I don't think it is,' Edie argued. 'It's just turned out we want totally different things He—he acted as though he wanted what I did—before--'
`Well, of course he did,' Barb said with weary cynicism. She finished her coffee and when she'd set down her cup she picked up the morning paper. `You know what, Edie?' she said, widening her blue eyes mockingly. `The only way you can be absolutely sure a man means marriage is to answer one of those ads in the personal column. The ones that end "View mat.". That's what you should do, if mat. is what you so desperately want. Frankly, it doesn't appeal to me all that much—having to think up something to cook for my beloved's dinner every night, being stuck with his likes and his dislikes and his moods, and having to make my life subordinate to his. I'd settle for the looser arrangement any day ... Anyhow, let's see—'
That was when she found the cattleman's advertisement and read it out triumphantly. 'Just what the doctor ordered, Edie—marriage pure and simple !'
But while it had all been no more than a joke as far as she was concerned, Edie had answered the ad early that afternoon while old Mrs Hill, whom she was
`specialling', was dozing. Partly because the morning paper was there and she'd picked it up and unconsciously turned to the personal column.
A cattleman who wanted a wife ! How romantic it sounded! And marriage—that was just her cup of tea. No informal arrangement that was betwixt and between, but marriage. Wedding bells. A whole future together.
`Dear sir,' she wrote on a page of Mrs Hill's notepaper, 'I am writing in answer to your advertisement for a wife, which appeared in this morning's paper. I am Australian born, nearly twenty-three years old, and a trained nurse. I am at present doing private nursing, mainly elderly people. I have dark hair and brown eyes, and am five feet four inches tall.
I am fairly practical, as a nurse has to be, but I enjoy music and reading, and also tennis and swimming. I have no family but one sister, but I have a little money of my own left me by my grandmother who died four years ago. As well, I have managed to save some of my salary since I have been working.
`My present patient will be going to stay with her daughter at the end of this week, and since I have no further commitments just now, I shall be free to see you at any time after that, if you are interested in my application. Looking forward to hearing from you, I am yours sincerely, Alfreda Asher.' No one had ever called her Alfreda except her grandmother, but it sounded more dignified than Edie, more—serious, she decided.
She posted the letter on her way home that evening, and when she admitted a little exuberantly what she had done, Barb stared at her unbelievingly.
`Edie, you didn't! You're out of your mind!'
`But why shouldn't I?' Edie said recklessly. 'I mean,
he—he's a cattleman, and he wants a wife—a real wife—'
`A cattleman! Is that what's gone to your head? He's probably some old farmer who runs a few cows in Woop Woop. All he wants is someone to do the milking and look after him and butter him up. If he turned up on the doorstep here you'd probably shriek Yuk ! and dash for the telephone to beg Joe to come back.'
`Well, enquiring can do no harm,' said Edie, a trifle dashed.
But he didn't appear on the doorstep. Instead, an answer to her letter came remarkably quickly from an address in Queensland—Dhoora Dhoora, via Narrunga, which didn't mean a thing to Edie. There were no personal details, not even his age, to Edie's disappointment. A brief and businesslike letter thanked `Alfreda' for her reply to his advertisement, and continued, 'I enclose a flight ticket to Townsville and a further booking that will bring you to Narrunga, where you will be met. As you mentioned you had no commitments, I take it you will be free to travel on the date for which I have booked your seats. I am also enclosing a cheque so that you may do any shopping you want before leaving Sydney.' He signed himself Drew Sutton.
Edie read the letter twice, more than a little taken aback. It was such an impersonal letter, and the flight tickets were somehow so positive. As for the cheque—crossed and made out to Alfreda Asher—it was for five hundred dollars.
Barb was amused. `You've scored a bull's eye, Edie! What on earth did you say in your letter? Or did you enclose a photograph? That -way, you couldn't help but win. Your farmer would think all his birthdays had come at once!'
Edie blushed uncomfortably. She hardly knew what attitude to take now. `I—I didn't send a photograph. And I didn't say anything much ... But this cheque—why do you think he sent it? I mean, what would I want to buy?'
`Can't you guess? Your wedding dress, dear—your trousseau. It's perfectly plain! You've been selected—you're going to be married at last.' She looked at Edie wryly. 'He's probably just like I said, you know—hayseeds sticking out of his hair and obviously an absolute fool, to send off five hundred dollars to a stranger just like that! What's to stop you going out and spending it and chucking those air tickets into the waste bin?'
`Nothing, I suppose,' Edie admitted. 'Only I wouldn't, of course.' Her own mental image of Drew Sutton was very different from Barb's, and privately she thought there was something rather distinguished, and very masculine, about his handwriting. Was he a fool? Or had he decided from her letter that she was trustworthy, genuine ?—as she was.
`What will you do?' Barb asked. 'It's a bit of a giggle, isn't it? It would be fun to go and find out what he's like. You've got nothing to lose except your virtue, and my guess is he's not the sort to attack that very ferociously.'
Edie was only half listening. 'I'll have to go,' she said slowly. 'It wouldn't be fair not to when he's gone to all this trouble. But somehow—I didn't really expect to—to hear from him.'
In a way, she'd been caught out romancing, and now her fantasy was turning into reality, and she wasn't at all sure how it was going to end. One thing was certain, however, and that was that she would go. to Narrunga and meet Drew Sutton. Not to do so, as well as being dishonest, would be like knocking on a door
and running away before it was opened, and she told Barb with a touch of defiance, 'Arranged marriages can work, you know—often better than the other kind. My grandmother grew up in Ireland, and she used to tell me and my sister how they'd arrange marriages in the villages there. There were these big families, and to get a daughter married, the father would have to see she had a pig or something as a dowry to persuade the boy's parents to accept her as their daughter-in-law.'
Barb raised her eyes to heaven. 'Good God, Edie, what's that to do with it? You don't need a pig on a string to persuade some man to marry you. I didn't know you had one, anyhow. And for heaven's sake don't go and marry the guy just because he's too hopeless to be able to find himself a girl-friend by the usual methods. If he tries to strong-arm you into it just harden your heart and say goodbye and thanks, but you've changed your mind, and come back home. It'll cost you your return fare, that's all. Rather ominous, that, the way he's sent you one-way tickets.'
Perhaps it was ominous, but Edie didn't really have a great deal of time to think about it. She did a little shopping, but she used her own money. She had always loved fashion so she wasn't short of good clothes, and while she most certainly wasn't going to buy a wedding dress, she might well need a couple of pairs of jeans and some casual shirts if she was going outback.
`Don't take too much gear with you,' Barb warned. `If you turn up looking as if you've brought all your worldly goods you'll have a hard time convincing him you've just come to look.'
But despite her skepticism, Barb, like a good friend, managed to take a couple of hours off from work to drive Edie to the airport.
`Don't forget—you haven't burned a single bridge,
Edie,' she said before they parted. 'Your room's still here and I shan't even think about looking for a new flatmate. I'll expect you back ...'
That had been only this morning. Now it was late afternoon, and in the plane, Edie glanced at her watch and felt her pulses quicken. In not many more minutes they were due to touch down at Narrunga. Drew Sutton would be there to meet her, and she was going to have to face up to the reality of the situation. Quite suddenly, she knew that she couldn't marry a stranger —not possibly. Suppose he was like Barb insisted—oh dear, she was going to feel sorry for him ! And really, you couldn't judge people by their appearance. Joe, for instance—he was really good-looking, and the minute she'd met him, which had been when he came to visit his grandfather whom she was nursing, she'd fallen for him. But look how he'd turned out! All he'd really wanted from her was sex, and the fact he'd bided his time before making that clear didn't make it any better in her eyes. In fact, it made it worse, because -he'd won her trust by then. Maybe she was hopelessly out of date, and men didn't realize it because she didn't look that way.
She opened her handbag and taking out her mirror peered anxiously into it. What would Drew Sutton think of her when they met? Perhaps he'd think she wore too much make-up. He wouldn't be used to city girls. She examined her face carefully. In the brilliant sunlight—in the open air—would the soft grey-blue eye-shadow that enhanced the brown of her darkly lashed eyes look too artificial? And the luscious lipstick she'd been wearing lately as a change from the natural look—how was that going to grab him? In the outback, away from the glamour of city lights, was it going to
look cheap? But right now the sun was going down and all that gorgeous golden color that was streaming through the heavens was terrific for enhancing the light tan of her skin and the vividness of her make-up. Her hair was long and thick and dark and inclined to be curly, and she liked best to wear it loose, but today she had taken it back in one heavy braid that hung down her back. She wore a tomato-red sleeveless dress and a string-coloured cotton jacket, and high-heeled sandals to match.
`Will I be a shock to him)' she wondered as she put her mirror away and discove
red that the plane was coining down. Isolated on the great sweep of the plains below she could see a small town of scattered houses, and beyond, a landing strip that looked fiery red in the sunset light. A few cars glittered in the sun. One of them would be his. She pictured him looking up at the plane, wondering what she'd be like. Wondering if she'd like him.
Oh heavens ! The enormity of what she was doing struck her anew, and she felt terribly guilty, terribly sorry for this taciturn cattleman who had advertised for a wife. As well, she felt almost sick with nervousness. She probably wasn't in the least as he imagined, and—if he didn't like the look of her, if he was the one who said, 'Thank you for coming, but I've changed my mind'—wouldn't she, honestly, be immensely relieved?
Oh well, nothing was going to happen in a hurry. He wasn't going to grab her by the arm and hurry her off to church. He was just as human as she was. He'd want to get to know her before doing anything drastic
A few minutes later the plane had landed, and presently Edie was looking around for her cattleman. She
started guiltily when a middle-aged man in white shirt and dark trousers spoke to her.
`Excuse me—would you be Miss Asher?'
`Yes.' Edie's eyes flew to his face and she felt the colour flood her cheeks. He was fifty or more—short, with a very Australian voice and a bulging figure that proclaimed him a heavy beer drinker. She felt her heart sink abysmally, but before she could force a smile and ask if he were Mr Sutton, he said, `I'll get your luggage. How many bags?'
`Two,' she said, quaking. 'Are you—'
`I'm the taxi driver, miss. You're for the hotel, I've been told.'
`Oh yes—yes, that's right.' Edie did an instant mental adjustment and discovered that now she could smile at him quite happily. The taxi driver ! Thank heavens ! She waited till he'd got her luggage, and as she walked with him across to the taxi she longed to ask who had arranged for him to meet her. But she knew, of course, and she held her tongue.
