Boomerang bride

by Margaret Pargeter

  Unfortunately it was also all it took to remove the curb on his explosive anger. With a half bitten off curse, as Vicki's hand contacted his cheek, he grabbed hold of her. The protective blanket had fallen from her numb fingers as he had hauled her savagely to him, uncaring if he hurt.

  She had fought him, even before she had been fully aware of his intentions. His arm had been like an iron band around her and the expression on his face devoid of any tenderness. He was holding her tightly against him as if enjoying the way in which she trembled in the cruel grip of his hands.

  'Stop struggling,' he had commanded grimly. 'It's time you learnt I don't appreciate being slapped. Perhaps it's also time you learnt to be a real wife instead of only pretending to be one.'

  She had tried to stop him. She wanted to belong to him, but not like this. If he intended taking her in anger there could surely be no joy in it for either of them. If there was any pleasure to be derived from this sort of thing? Somehow, for the moment, in her innocence, she had doubted it.

  Apprehension seared through her as he relentlessly set about removing her pyjama jacket and, as her hand came free, she hit out at him again, regardless of his warning. She had been determined to fight him—until he had started kissing her. That, for Vicki, had been the beginning of her final capitulation.

  That was when cold logic had flown out of the window and panic had given way to less reasonable instincts. As his mouth possessed hers every nerve in her body had seemed to stop beating. As his free hand had closed over the gentle curve of her slight breast her desire to fight him snuffed out, as a flame might between two fingers.

  His mouth had made sure of her utter subjugation, even as he had raised it to mutter harshly, 'I don't intend Jeff Curry to have what I paid for.'

  'He never has!' Her struggle for breath had robbed that of the emphasis she had tried to give it, and he had laughed derisively.

  "Nor do I intend being the joke of the Territory!' he had added thickly, his hands already exploring parts of her body no one had ever touched before.

  Almost begging him to listen, she had whispered hoarsely, 'You're mistaken, Wade! Please don't do anything you might regret. Oh, darling, please stop!'

  But he had not. For a moment, as he had drawn back, she thought he had, but it had only been to shrug him self out of his bathrobe. She had flinched to feel his skin, bare against hers, but her revulsion had been short- lasting. As his mouth came against her throat and his hands aroused her to a pitch of feverish excitement she had felt her own arms going out, clinging to him, with the wild insanity of someone on the point of drowning.

  Then his mouth had returned to hers and she had turned frightened again, in spite of the flames consuming her body, as she had felt the force of his rising passion. But he hadn't allowed her breath to give voice to her rising fears, nor taken any notice when he must have sensed her virginal nervousness. It seemed he was only prepared to acknowledge the sensuous response which she hadn't the experience to hide, which was an innate part of her.

  She had heard his smothered exclamation and felt the roughness-of his heated flesh, and betraying shivers had gone down her spine. His mouth had closed over hers and she had found herself under him, as without care or mercy he had taken her! He hadn't listened to her cries of anguish or seemed to notice how her small face had creased in pain.

  Bitterly, when it was all over, she had sobbed, perhaps more from disappointment than from hurt. If he had used tenderness, a little patience, how different it might have been, but with anger and intolerance driving him it would have been too much to hope for. Her immediate reactions had been too mixed and confused to understand properly, but she remembered feeling tearfully resentful that, while Wade had appeared savagely satisfied, she -had felt somehow cheated.

  It hadn't helped that he had left her almost immediately. Subconsciously, she realised now, she must have been hoping he would stay.-In spite of the way he had made her suffer, she knew she had been hoping vaguely for some thing else. Something which she had groped for, striven desperately after, might have achieved if the time in his arms had been just a little longer. What it was she had not found out—not then!-. .

  Next morning, to her surprise, he had entered her room, with a ruthlessness that reminded her of something else. She had been attempting to brush her short hair before going downstairs and had been startled as he usually went out early. Seeing him standing behind her, she had stiffened, the brush in her hand falling with a small clatter on to the dressing table from which she had just picked it up. After a quick glance she hadn't been able to look at him, not after a sleepless night, during which strangely erotic dreams had faded before stronger elements of shame and anger.

  Apparently Wade was no keener to look at her. His voice had been curt to the point of indifference. He didn't greet her formally or otherwise. He had every appearance of a man with something to say and a need to have it done with as soon as possible. 'I've just learnt about Jeff's hand.'

  'Oh, I see ...' Keeping her eyes averted, she had hastily stuck her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, to hide their agitated trembling. She hadn't noticed how his gaze had narrowed on her white face, the tear-reddened eyes, he could see through the glass.

  'I'm sorry for what happened last night,' he had said, neither his eyes or voice expressing the remorse he pretended. 'I'm sorry, if only because it made me realise that at least one of my accusations was unjust.'

  Lowering her head still further, she had whispered, 'You mean you're ready to admit I've not been a tramp?'

  'Vicki!' As if suffering from a kind of unsolvable frustration, he had exclaimed grimly, 'I have apologised. I'll acknowledge frankly I was mistaken. I'm sorry I was So rough. It was too late when I realised. All the other women I've known have been experienced.'

  'All of them?' she had whispered, the pain of hearing him admitting his previous affairs almost worse than the physical one she had known through the night.

  'Sure,' his voice had hardened, as if deliberately. 'Most of my life has been dedicated to work, Vicki, but I've been no saint. Nor have I ever pretended to be. But you were immaculate, my dear, and don't have to worry about things like that. As for some girls being tramps, if they are, I guess it's only what men have made them.' Yes,' she had whispered stupidly, wanting only to be in his arms again.

  'Good,' he had returned, tautly. 'I'm glad you understand.' Then swinging on his heel, after another stony glance at her desolate face, he had left her, as if the few brief words he had spared her were all that was necessary.

  The next few weeks had passed terribly slowly, a succession of days to be got through somehow. Days which had seemed to leave her either devoid of feeling or filled with an agony of frustrated longing. Helping Mrs. Clover had proved no answer, although Mrs. Clover was always nice to her. Daily the housekeeper had appeared to grow more pleased that Vicki and Wade had got married, if she still shook her head over the way Wade had done it. Helping Wade's now very friendly grandfather wasn't much good either. Being tired to the point of exhaustion didn't seem to make much difference to some things!

  Loving Wade, yet not knowing how best to approach him, had worn her almost to a shadow. Since that night in her room he had mostly ignored her and she couldn't seem to find a way through the barrier he had erected between them. Any attempts she had made to improve matters had met with failure. The one time she had actually managed to get near him had merely been turned into something he had used against her later.

  The one time she had really let him see she wouldn't mind being a proper wife to him, they had been coming upstairs together, late one night. Accidentally she had stumbled against him, and automatically he had caught her, momentarily holding her to him. After she had steadied herself, instead of leaving him, she had found her arms creeping around his neck.

  'Wade?' Her young face full of unconscious but naked longing, she had whispered his name, and suddenly he had bent his tall head and kissed her.

  'Oh, W
ade' as his mouth had lifted, she'd hung on to him tightly, her eyes warm with love, 'Wade,' she had whispered breathlessly, 'couldn't we?'

  His glance had darkened, as it had gone swiftly over her. His eyes had been slightly puzzled, as if he had found her different, without being able to put his finger on it. Then he had let her go abruptly.

  'Go to bed,' he had said tautly, his face so hard he didn't have to add, 'alone.' 'This was never part of our agreement and I don't intend drawing up a new one, even for the future. As for these little animal instincts of yours, I'd advise you to grow up before you offer yourself again to anyone. Until you know exactly what you might be starting!'

  'But, Wade' She hadn't understood much pf what he was saying, her senses had been clamouring so she could think of only one thing. She had felt shame, but this had been swiftly smothered by her inner turbulence.

  He hadn't, however, been sympathetic. 'I don't want to ever call you a tramp again, Vicki, but you're certainly asking for it. Try learning to control yourself.'

  At that she had pulled herself from his arms, his message getting clearly through to her at last, her eyes wide with the force of her emotions, There had also been resentment, a painful realisation that he had no time for her, and nothing she had said or done had given him any cause to change his mind regarding his original plan for their marriage.

  It had been just after this that she had realised something which had completely stunned her. She had begun feeling ill, particularly in the mornings. And when she had got down to really thinking about it, she had known that certain physical changes could only be caused through one thing. For a long time she had refused to believe it could have happened to her—until the morning Wade had found her in the bathroom.

  It had been after eight and he had been gone for hours. He must have come back for something. He caught her being sick.

  'Vicki?' she had scarcely heard his surprised exclamation, she had been so ill. 'What the devil is the matter with you, girl?'

  'Oh, please go away!' she had moaned, sobbing in her distress, making an abortive attempt to get rid of him. Fear of possible reprisals, should he guess, sharpened her dulled wits, enabling her to gasp quickly, 'It must be something I ate for dinner last night.'

  'Dinner?' His brows had gathered as he had watched her rinsing her coldly perspiring face. He had grasped her shoulders, swinging her around to him.

  Water had dripped down her thin shirt as his eyes had gone narrowly over her, in much the same way as they had done on that last terrible evening on the stairs. Now, as they rested on the new, rounded fullness of her figure,' the blue shadows under eyes set in a white, smudged face, realisation merged with a terrible anger. 'Why, you little cheat!' He hadn't minced his words. He had looked as if he would have liked to hit her. His tall, lean body had been rigid. 'How long have you been like—this?'

  'Not long.' Not having been able to meet fury with fury, she had shrunk from the terrible suspicion in his eyes. Her heavy lashes had fallen unhappily, guilt and misery preventing her from even trying to defend herself.

  His hands had been cruel on her shaking shoulders as he had forced her to look at him. 'How can it be? You saw Doc Evans—he told me you'd had a satisfactory chat. Did you, in God's name, follow his advice?'

  'No ...' Even shaking with nerves, she had known it would be useless to lie to him. She had shaken her head and, like an idiot, kept on shaking it until he had ordered her to stop. 'No,' she repeated dully, 'I never took any of what he gave me.'

  'Why not?' The unrelenting harshness of his voice seemed to cause her actual pain. 'Didn't I specifically ask you to because of what might happen? What did happen, as you very well know. I trusted you to keep your side of the bargain.'

  In vain she had searched for one sign of tenderness in him. 'I'm sorry,' she quivered, 'I just didn't think there'd be any need.' While this was true, it would have been more honest to confess how she had disliked the idea of doing anything to avoid having Wade's child.

  'You little fool!' His eyes had smouldered and she had cringed, afraid suddenly of what he might do to her. That he wanted to inflict some kind of punishment had been so obvious she was terrified. His grey eyes had stared straight into hers and there had been no pity in him anywhere.

  'I don't know if you thought you could deceive me and get away with it,' he had said savagely, 'but if you did then you'd better think again! You can pack your bags and get out of here, just as quick as you like!'

  'Wade!' she had gasped, tears of terror and anguish falling uncontrollably down her cheeks as she had clutched at his shirt with hysterical hands. 'You can't mean it! How could I go anywhere? I haven't anywhere to go to, arid if I had, how could I get there?'

  'Any way you like!' Fury sweeping him, he had thrown her off. I'm just leaving with Jeff to inspect some stock I'm interested in, in Queensland. I'll be away a couple of days. When I come back I want you gone, out of my sight, and I don't want to see you again. Get one of the men to take you into Alice. From there you can easily return to the U.K.'

  'I'll do that.' Scarcely realising what she was saying, she had nodded blindly.

  With a small exclamation of pain, which was still too vivid, seeing that all this had happened over four years ago, Vicki sat up sharply, clutching her head. Why did she still remember it so torturously? She had fainted when Wade had left her, and Mrs. Glover had found her lying on the floor and made a great fuss. Thankfully, Vicki had seen how Mrs. Clover had believed her story of being a little run down. Just as she had been relieved when Mrs. Clover had agreed that a trip to Alice would make a nice change and that she could get a tonic while she was there.

  Vicki hadn't packed a bag, so as to arouse no suspicion. She had simply put on her hat and flown, and no one had been any the wiser. Mrs. Clover had suspected nothing.

  Vicki sighed, dwelling briefly but sorrowfully on all that had happened since, including the news which made her heart ache with regret. Mrs. Clover had died and she hadn't known. The housekeeper had been a friend, especially when she had needed one, and she had never really thanked her properly. Vicki wished, now, that she had written. She had wanted to, but had always been so scared that Wade might conceivably learn where she was living even if she put no address. In a granny-like fashion, Mrs. Clover would have been so pleased with Graham, and Vicki knew she would have appreciated the older woman's advice. Her mouth twisting wryly, she stared through the small piece of visible window, tears of deep unhappiness in her eyes for what might have been, if only her marriage had been a normal one.

  During the next few days her strength returned quite quickly.

  'So it should, at your age!' Miss Webb, with her superior ten years, informed Vicki tardy, adding, with more condescension than Vicki thought her position allowed, 'I must say the house runs more smoothly since you've got back on your feet again. I told your husband there was no need to worry, that all you needed was a little extra rest.'

  Vicki smiled faintly, refusing to be impressed by that. She could have retorted sharply, but Miss Webb was curious enough without giving her more to think about. Her growing tendency to introduce Wade into. every other sentence was becoming a regrettable if unintentional habit. She wondered if Wade encouraged her in this, then decided not. Miss Webb was disposed to be friendly towards anyone who" would talk to her. No—Vicki frowned ruefully, as Miss Webb rambled on; Miss Webb only wanted someone prepared to listen to her endless monologues about her own clever achievements and brilliant relations. Miss Webb, Vicki realised dispiritedly, was a wonderful children's nurse, and her absorption in her personal affairs was probably all to the good. She never appeared to overlook a thing. But unfortunately her curiosity regarding the situation at Baccaroo was beginning to get the better of her. Any day now, Vicki suspected, Miss Webb was going to throw discretion to the winds and risk asking Vicki why this was the first time Graham had been at Baccaroo. Where previously she had hinted she would begin asking outright.

  From there it would be
' only be a short step to wondering why Graham hadn't known his father, and the answer to that might find Miss Webb speculating accurately on Vicki's exact relationship with her husband. There might be no end to it, Vicki thought doubtfully, if she didn't learn to manage Miss Webb properly.

  If only she had some proper status! Then she could have put Miss Webb firmly in her place—at least, so there would be no more personal questions! As things stood she guessed that if Miss Webb were to find out even half of the truth, her life might be a misery.

  As she grew daily stronger, Vicki resolved to ask Wade if Miss Webb couldn't be done without. It wouldn't be unkind as Miss Webb was constantly complaining of the isolation. She was also forever proclaiming that she could pick and choose when it came to jobs, that she had only agreed to come here because it was a feather in her cap to be working for the McLeods. As things stood, Vicki was never sure when Miss Webb was going to gather sufficient courage to bring up the subject of Wade and herself, and strangely apprehensive of this, her nerves grew taut.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Vicki realised she must catch Wade in a good mood, which wouldn't be easy. For one thing, his relationship with his son was becoming increasingly difficult. Try as she might to keep them apart, there seemed to be almost daily clashes. Graham, having apparently inherited much of Wade's grim determination, usually made a beeline for his father whenever he saw him—something which neither Vicki or Miss Webb were often quick enough to prevent.

  Vicki found herself torn, as usual, between misery and regret as she watched them together. Half the trouble, she was ready to admit, was her own feelings of what could only amount to jealousy, when' it became quite obvious that Graham was ready to worship his newly acquired father—to such an extent that his mother, equally obviously, was beginning to take second place. Third place, perhaps, Vicki thought bitterly, seeing how Miss Webb took up most of his day.