Boomerang bride

by Margaret Pargeter

  She blushed uncomfortably, sensing a taunt she didn't wholly understand.

  'Don't panic,' he muttered sarcastically, while his interest centred speculatively on the tears she brushed quickly aside. 'No one's going to notice or care that your hair is a different colour, so you don't have to continue hiding it. So long as you have a proper hat for the sun?'

  'If you tell me not to panic or worry once again, I'm going to scream!' she informed him, glaring fiercely up at him through her tears.

  He laughed, the first time in a week she detected any real amusement. 'You seem to have a worse temper than I remember.' His finger went out to touch the dampness on her cheek. 'No need to let me drive you to tears of rage. I'm quite immune to women's tears, as you must know.'

  She nodded. 'That and other things,' she rejoined angrily, jerking her head away as if his touch burnt her.

  The stockman joined them before she could elaborate or Wade reply. She had thought Wade would drive to the house, but he didn't. He sat beside her, so close that her body touched his, one strongly muscled arm along the back of the seat, as if to prevent her from bruising. She wondered if he had sat there deliberately to protect her from the stockman's curious glances, which had been showered on her in full measure when Wade had briefly introduced her as his wife. Quickly, she dismissed such an impression as false. Whatever he intended she would rather have endured the bumps and bruises than the churning hot feeling inside her every time his arm tightened when she was thrown against him.

  At Baccaroo she couldn't wait to see Graham, picturing a woebegone little boy trying hard to be brave, like herself. The emotions which hit her were too mixed to be easily decipherable when at last she found him. He was just back from a riding lesson—too small to be learning to ride, she thought anxiously, forgetting that Wade had ridden almost before he could walk.

  'Mummy!' Graham cried, showing a disquieting lack of interest in Vicki's feverish hugging and kissing, her supposed to be comforting murmurings. I don't want to go home. Grandpa says this is my home and I want to stay!'

  The glance Vicki flashed at Wade was mutinous with reproach, but she said nothing, just folded her arms more firmly around Graham's small, squirming body.

  See what you've done, her eyes said, but it didn't even dent Wade's emotion-proof armour. He stood staring at them, much as he had done when he had first seen them together at the flat. She could tell nothing from his expression. Didn't he have an ounce of feeling?

  Graham, wriggling from her arms, stared at Wade, his eyes, the same colour as Wade's, round, but with curiosity rather than fear. 'Are you my new father?'

  Wade came to a sudden halt. He had taken a few strides across the hall. He stopped abruptly. Vicki could see his jaw set in a hard line, his face giving nothing away. 'You could say,' he replied laconically.

  Graham tilted his chin, as if to see the tall man better, while he positively danced with excitement. 'I always knew I had one!' he piped shrilly. I told Mrs. Parkes I had. Mummy once told me I was named for you. Can I call you Daddy?'

  'You can call me Wade.'

  Vicki's tears were now of anger. How could Wade be so heartless? She heard Graham repeating, Wade,' in a small, uncertain voice, as if he didn't much like it either.

  Wade's eyes narrowed, but he didn't move, nor did he take his glance from the puzzled, less confident face upraised to his. 'Didn't you ever hear your mother use that name before?'

  'No ...'

  'Enlightening!'

  'Graham darling,' Vicki could see he didn't understand Wade's last remark. His disappointment showed. 'It's probably better, darling, that you call this—this man Wade. We might not be staying long, you see.'

  'But I want to!' She had certainly diverted him, if not in the way she had hoped. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. 'Grandpa says I can! He says' Graham squared his small shoulders, his face taking on an authority which reminded Vicki devastatingly of Wade, 'Grampa says Baccroo will all be mine one day, so I must stay.'

  'Baccaroo, darling,' she corrected him automatically, her clear English voice tinged with a bleak sadness that, already, Graham had every appearance of becoming one of them.

  It was Wade who advised grimly, I shouldn't be counting your chicks before they hatch, young fellow.'

  Again Graham didn't understand. 'What does that mean?' he asked intently.

  'You'd better ask Mummy,' Wade drawled sarcastically. Then, instead of turning away, as Vicki expected him to do, he enquired harshly, 'Where's this nurse of yours, boy? Why isn't she here?'

  'She's talking to Grandpa.'

  'Is she now? Well, we'll soon see about that!' Wade strode over to the main sitting room door. In two seconds the nurse appeared, followed at a more leisurely pace by old Mr. McLeod.

  Vicki felt no surprise, being very familiar with the ease with which Wade got things done. She stared numbly at the efficiently starched nurse—nanny, she would be called in England. She remembered her father once mentioning that his mother had had one, but she had had no personal experience of such superior creatures herself. This one seemed brisk enough to cope with Graham's tantrums. She looked around thirty, and very attractive.

  'Take your charge elsewhere,' Wade commanded, as if his son was of little consequence. 'I suggest bed!'

  Graham, as if his father's lack of interest was at last getting through to him, reverted to being only four. 'Not going with her,' he muttered rudely, his bottom lip wobbling. 'I want Mummy!'

  'You'll take what's good for you,' Wade replied brusquely, firmly removing Graham's arms from around Vicki's legs before they could begin to cling. 'Your mother is tired.' 'No, I'm not, Wade.' Vicki found her voice but could scarcely control its trembling. Need he act with such a heavy hand? It wasn't as if he wanted to have anything to do with the child! 'You forget,' she whispered, 'I haven't seen Graham in days.'

  Wade, busy placing Graham imperviously with his nanny, took no notice. Surprisingly, Graham stopped protesting. Vicki felt indescribably hurt that he didn't continue fighting. From experience she knew him quite capable of doing so, when he wanted something badly enough. Apparently he didn't want his mother all that much!

  'You'll be seeing plenty of him,' Wade countered briefly, turning back to her. He introduced her to the nanny, once he had Graham safely in her arms. I'm sure you'll soon get into Miss Webb's routine while she's here.'

  There was nothing for it but to shake Miss Webb's awkwardly proffered hand, to return the cool smile and murmur something, politely. Mrs. Parkes had often had charge of Graham, but with her Vicki had never felt this nervous apprehension. With the set-up here, old Mr. McLeod and an efficient nurse, not to mention Wade himself, she could soon become unnecessary. Her heart shook, her throat went dry, and it didn't take the Old Man's clearly hostile stare to make her shiver!

  Miss Webb whisked Graham off to bed, a task Vicki had never missed performing herself until this last week. As they disappeared she felt herself swaying ...

  Wade, beginning again to speak to her, caught her in time. Whipping her up in his arms, he cast one glance at her stark white face before starting across the hall. Over his shoulder he said tersely to his grandfather, 'She's still fairly weak and it's been a long day. I'll take her upstairs. You can send one of the girls.'

  The hall righted itself before he had taken many more strides. Vicki protested, hot with embarrassment, 'Please put me down., Wade, I'll be all right.'

  His arms merely tightened and he muttered diabolically, 'Shut up!' His tone was harsh, denying any real concern.

  Limply she subsided against the hardness of his chest. Momentarily she was almost ready to admit defeat. She had thought she was better, but she only felt exhausted. The exhaustion was odd, not very reassuring. Other feelings began hitting her, too, as she was borne swiftly along in Wade's strong arms. She became conscious of his lithe easy stride, as if she was no weight at all. There was the warmth of his body which for so long she had been unable to forget. Beneath her cheek, i
n her ear, his heart beat heavily. She was conscious of the strength and masculinity of him, of his sureness. As seemed too often to be happening lately, Graham slipped from her mind.

  Her conscience reminded her abruptly. 'I must be near Graham,' she said. 'Especially at night.'

  'Is that another way of saying tactfully you don't want to be near me?' Wade asked frostily.

  'No—-I mean yes, in a way,' she stammered against his broad chest, which she felt heave with impatience. Never for a moment had she imagined Wade would want her beside him, even if she had been willing. 'Graham's used to having me near him, you see,' she added desperately. 'He's always slept in his cot beside me. I'll admit because we could never afford more than one room,' she finished unhappily, knowing she was making a poor job of presenting her side of things.

  'A lot of things are going to be different now,' he said coldly. 'You must accept this. Graham has his own quarters along the corridor, which I'm sure you'll find he likes. Nurse Webb is next door.'

  'How can you know all this?' Vicki asked resentfully. 'We've only just got back.'

  'I sent instructions. I have no reason to suppose they weren't carried out.'

  As if considering the argument closed, Wade quickened his footsteps. He thrust open a door, stalking through it, closing it again behind him. 'You will sleep here, in my dressing room. In novels it's always the unfortunate husband who does this, but I'm afraid I can't bring myself to be so charitable.'

  Vicki felt too agitated to even glance at the room. Her eyes remained fixed on Wade's face as he lowered her abruptly into a chair. She scarcely knew what to say next. Her mind was so muddled she fastened on the first thought to enter it. 'How do you expect to divorce me if I sleep in here?'

  'You must be ignorant,' he drawled, 'if you think this is going to prevent a divorce. That will be quickly arranged, when the time is right. It's the present which concerns me.'

  Vicki's whole body felt cold, her lips stiff. She might have known he had everything in hand, just waiting for the right moment! 'I suppose I'm to be in here so the staff can presume We are reconciled?' she asked flatly. I thought, you said you didn't care what they thought?'

  'No. I said I wasn't prepared to give explanations. This arrangement will at least prevent them from reaching any definite conclusions and save me from exaggerated speculation.'

  Staring at him, Vicki tried desperately to pull herself together, to stop from shaking. 'Would you promise not to use the communicating door?' she asked hoarsely, feeling such a feeble suggestion was almost all there was left to her.

  'I might—think about it,' his lip curled sarcastically, 'I might even ask you to promise the same. At the same time I could remind you that you weren't always so knotted up with such virtuous inhibitions. Once, I recall, you almost begged me" to satisfy your sensual appetites, after I'd mistakenly aroused them.'

  A kind of frozen anger—and shame—hit Vicki hard. 'You're unspeakable!' she gasped. 'I asked for a simple promise...'

  'It won't be necessary,' he cut in with grim cynicism, surveying her wide, sparkling eyes with an indifference which, to Vicki, seemed to speak for itself. 'Only on rare occasions have I allowed my feelings to outweigh my better judgment. It won't happen again.'

  Colour burnt her cold cheeks. 'I should know just how deeply you regret the occasions you refer to!'

  'I'm not here to talk: of the past,' he dismissed her reference curtly. 'That holds little pleasure for me.'

  He couldn't have put it more plainly. Shivering, she watched as he stalked to the door.

  'Dinner will be at the usual time,' he spoke without obvious rancour. 'If you feel like joining us, after you've had a rest, well and good. If not, I'll bring you something up.'

  'Couldn't you send one of the girls, or Mrs. Clover?'

  'Mrs. Clover isn't here.'

  'Not here?' Vicki wanted to get rid of Wade quickly, but this didn't stop her exclamation of dismay. Mrs. Clover had been housekeeper at Baccaroo, and Vicki had reason to believe she had been her friend. She had been looking forward to seeing her. She had been counting on Mrs. Clover's continuing support. "Not here?' she repeated stupidly.

  'There is such a thing as death.'

  'Oh, I see.' Shocked by the news and remorseful, Vicki bit her lip. She wondered if she should commiserate further, then changed her mind. Emotions, apart from hate, had never seemed to play a great part in this house. She doubted if Mrs. Clover, who had plodded her way steadily through a daily list of never-ending tasks, had ever been missed. Certainly no one might have genuinely mourned her.

  'If you're really interested,' Wade McLeod mocked, 'you might like to know she was here until the end. Some women know the meaning of being faithful.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  As the door closed behind Wade with deadly emphasis, Vicki shuddered. So he still blamed her for what had happened? His arms, as he had carried her upstairs, had felt oddly protective, but that must have been a cruel illusion. He still hated her, as much as he apparently still hated his grandfather and everything else.

  She sighed, then suddenly her head lifted sharply as she gazed around the room. She had been so agitated, so worried and absorbed about other things, she hadn't taken any notice of her immediate surroundings. This was Wade's dressing room, attached, with a bathroom in between, to his bedroom. She scarcely remembered it. When they had first married Wade had slept here. He had slept here almost all the time, apart from a few occasions during the last few weeks of their somewhat stormy relationship. Vicki had rarely come here; he hadn't allowed her.

  Now she felt horrified and had to firmly restrain a desire to rush hysterically after him, if her shaky limbs would have allowed it. Surely he didn't expect her to spend six weeks or so in a room like this? If he hadn't brought her here himself she wouldn't have believed it! Numbly she nerved herself to take another look around.

  It was small and bare and might never have been occupied in the whole four years she had been away. Dust lay abundantly everywhere, even on the cold lino under her feet. The bed was narrow—no more, she felt sure, than a small single, with iron rails. A mattress, about an inch thick, reposed on it. There were a couple of old, threadbare blankets, one grey-looking sheet and a lumpy pillow. The whole room, as well as the bed, smelt musty and cold. It seemed almost worse than the room she had left behind in Melbourne. Why had Wade done this to her? Surely not even a strong desire for revenge could make a man act so cruelly?

  About to go and furiously seek him out, she paused. She stood beside the door, breathing fast, her hands clenched, thinking. Shock still numbed her body, but her head felt surprisingly clear. Wade probably expected her to tear wildly after-him, begging and pleading. And he wouldn't be anywhere she could find him. After being away for nearly two weeks, it would be unlikely anyhow if he would even be in the house. There was an adequate staff, but she knew from past experience that whenever he had been away he must personally check everything when he returned.

  She was convinced, too, that no one would come near her. Old Mr. McLeod would deliberately forget to send a girl up, as Wade, almost certainly, had known he would. Vicki guessed, that with all the fine rooms available, he wouldn't want anyone to see the one he had given his wife!

  Her brow creased as she tried desperately to puzzle it all out. No one would believe that the wife of a McLeod, no matter what she had done, would be asked to sleep here. The girls employed in the house must know the room wasn't really fit for occupation. Consequently everyone must be assuming she was sharing Wade's bedroom—and bed!

  Feeling bitterly angry and frustrated, Vicki ran a trembling hand over her forehead. As this seemed the only possible explanation she wondered, without finding any answer, why Wade should want to give this impression. Was it that he still wanted to annoy his grandfather? Surely he didn't imagine Miss Webb was going to make advances? Such attention from women had never rendered him helpless in the past, and there was no reason to suppose he had changed in this respect!
>
  None of these conjectures ringing true, Vicki stumbled unhappily to the narrow bed and sat down. It seemed all beyond her. All she wanted to do was sink into a cool bed and sleep, and here she was, filled with such bewilderment that sleep would be impossible. She hated to confess, even to herself, how in hospital the thought of Baccaroo, its solid comfort, had somehow offset the humiliation of having to return.

  Feeling the weight of self-pity bringing tears to her eyes, she shook her head impatiently and lifted her chin. Hadn't she been forced to rise above less than favourable circumstances in the past? There was no reason why she shouldn't do so again. After all, when old Mr. McLeod died, she and Graham would again be out on their own. It was perhaps better that she didn't get too soft. If she could manage a good night's sleep she could do a lot with a mop and duster in the morning! And wouldn't she enjoy showing Wade McLeod that, though he might think himself a lord, he wasn't her master! Certainly she'd be a fool to let him think she was beaten yet!

  Curiously strengthened, rather than defeated, by such a challenge, she rose and opened the door. Intuitively she had known she would find her suitcases there. Wade must have brought them up himself. Dragging them inside, she took out a bathrobe and cap and went into the bathroom. This, while austere, was more pleasantly appointed than her bedroom. There was no lock on the door, but she felt in no danger, knowing Wade wouldn't come in.

  She ran water, sparkling hot, then turned on the cold tap before sliding out of her sticky clothes. She would bath, dress, then go downstairs and to hell with Wade McLeod and his grandfather!

  An hour later, not feeling quite so brave, she forced herself to walk steadily to the dining room. She wasn't sure whether her strength was physical or came from anger, hut she was sure she could make it. A small glow of triumph carried her on. She had managed to see Graham. He had been sleeping, but Miss Webb hadn't objected when she had pressed adoring little kisses on his small, contented face.