by Margaret Way
"You need protection?" She gave a glimmer of a smile.
"Nope: " He moved his wide shoulders restlessly. "Getting hooked on a woman like that would be as dangerous as catching a tiger by the tail."
CHAPTER TWO
THEY slipped into an animated crowd, most with champagne glasses in hand, and waiters circling with delicious looking finger food. There was a buzz of a hundred voices. Isabelle spotted Cyrus Bannerman first because of his commanding height and presence. Half hidden by the breadth of his shoulder was his beautiful wife of several months .lessica, her magnificent mass of ash-blond hair radiant in the bright fall of skylights. The interior of the gallery was divided into three spacious rooms interconnected by wide arches. The lights were trained on a large collection of photographs, most colour some black and white that took on a rivetting quality to rival paintings. Someone had taken the trouble to hang the prints perfectly on the white expanse of walls.
Jessica looked up and waved, a lovely welcoming smile on her face. Cy turned around to follow his wife's gaze, beaming too. They watched him glance back at the group he was with, obviously making their excuses, before he tucked his hand beneath Jessica's elbow steering a path towards Ross and Isabelle who were also being greeted on all sides. The big cattle families were outback royalty. The Sunderlands were as well known as the Bannermans though the late Broderick Bannerman, an immensely wealthy man had not scored anywhere near the late Ewan Sunderland's high approval rating. Mercifully both sons and heirs were held in high regard.
"Hi!" The women brushed cheeks, smiling into one another's eyes. The men, looking very pleased to see one another settled for affectionate claps on the shoulder.
"I'm so glad you could come, Isabelle," Jessica said with complete sincerity. "You look absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you. So do you." Isabelle, who appeared so poised was actually quaking inside. She was grateful for the compliment. Jessica's warmth and friendliness steadied her. It was a long time since she had ventured out. Blair's death had put such a contagion on her.
Jessica smiled. "It's a brilliant collection." She turned her head over her shoulder. "I know you'll both love it. David is being feted in the next room. Sam is with David's assistant, Matt Howarth. A very pleasant guy. Come and meet them. David is an extraordinary man. You'll like him, Ross. We know he's very keen on meeting you and hopefully having you for a guide."
"Piece of cake!" Cy assured his friend.
"[ don't know that I've made up my mind, Cy," Ross said, sobering a moment. Sam was with Matt Howarth? What did that mean? What do you think it means he thought a hard knot in his stomach.
"You want a break. You work too hard," Cy urged him, forging a path through the throng.
"You should talk."
"It's not like it's going to be for long. Belle would love it." The old Belle, Cy thought. Knowing her from childhood he recognised and understood Isabelle's fragile state of mind.
Jessica made a little surprised gesture, looking towards Isabelle. "What a marvellous idea!"
"I couldn't, Jessica," Isabelle said quickly, touching the other woman's arm. "I beg you, don't any anything."
"Of course not!" Jessica promised hurriedly . Seeing the tension in Isabelle's face. She knew Isabelle's tragic story and she was full of sympathy. How did a woman cope with losing a beloved husband? Jessica found herself giving an involuntary shudder. Her own days were filled with ecstatic fulfilment. To lose Cy would be like a descent into hell.
Someone came out of the crowd, a stylish, sweet faced woman in her fifties who grasped Isabelle's arm. "Isabelle dear, what an extraordinary surprise! I'd heard you were home."
"Mrs. Charlton, of course." Isabelle's face lit up. She allowed herself to be detained. "I'll catch up with you," she called to the others.
Ross relaxed when he heard the comfortable note in his sister's voice. He didn't know the woman, although he was sure he had seen her some place. So many of Isabelle's so called friends had betrayed her taking the opinion she somehow had played a role in her popular husband's death.
The next room was even more crowded. A lion of a man with a large handsome head covered in thick tawny waves and strongly hewn features was holding court. The several women around him were staring up into his face, magnetised, their expressions buoyed up, obviously excited.
Jessica laughed a bit, "Starstruck."
"Extraordinary guy," Cy answered. In fact very few in life had that impact he thought.
But Ross saw no one but her. The same galvanising jolt passed through him as the first time he'd laid
eyes on her. A sensation he had tried-how unsuccessfully-to erase from his mind. And then, tensing, the man standing too close at her shoulder. Early thirties, slight of build, thin sensitive face, nice smile. Matt Howarth. It had to be. His attitude, the way he was standing flashed an unmistakable message. They shared a relationship, or at the very least an understanding. Surely he hadn't imagined she would be unattached. A beautiful creature like that! Hell he couldn't even allow himself to think of her, but the knowledge he wouldn't succeed was there.
Tonight she was wearing a slip of a dress of a golden hue that complemented her colouring. High heeled gold sandals were on her feet. Her beautit'ul hair was centre parted falling like a bolt of bright copper satin down her back. Even her skin looked gilded. He could actually feel its smoothness under his hand. Cool and satiny when the very thought of touching her heated his blood.
You want her. You know you do.
He heard that inner voice, the voice that wouldn't be silenced, whispering in his ear.
Their eyes met. He realised with a sense of crushing mortification he'd been standing once again transfixed. Hell! Acting foolish wasn't his style. He found himself wondering if the others had noticed he was rooted to the spot. Yet she, too, seemed shocked, her beautiful doe's eyes widening, as if electrified by the intensity of his hunter's gaze.
Immediately he was seized with the fierce desire to turn around and leave. This woman was temptation. The sort of challenge any smart man would step free of it. No way could he guide this expedition if Samantha Langdon was to go along. He hadn't the slightest desire to allow a woman to play him like a clown. Woman magic. Sometimes he thought he could never wipe away the bitter taste of his father's betrayal at the soft hands of his mother. That's what lay behind everything he thought, abruptly sobering. A man could be shackled by adoration. His beloved father had gone about his life but both of his children had known inside he was shattered. That's what women were capable of. Leaving a trail of destruction.
He looked away at the brother, David Langdon, thinking with a vague sense of astonishment he liked the man on sight. Brother and sister shared a resemblance-not as marked as his and Belle's mostly the colouring. She looked very delicate beside him, ultra feminine. Long, light beautiful bones. The brother was a big man, well over six feet like himself, but strapping rather than lean, very fit and strong looking. His hair was a tawny mix of dark blond to bronze, his eyes a pronounced shade of topaz. Both had generous well defined mobile mouths.
Cy introduced them. The two men shook hands then Langdon speaking easily-he exuded charisina-introduced his assistant, Matt, who regarded Sunderland somewhat warily as if he thought this was someone who could turn dangerous and he was already aware of it.
"I'm looking forward to us all having dinner together," Langdon said after a few minutes of exchanging social pleasantries. "Meanwhile I hope you enjoy the showing. I have to circulate, it seems." Cy's stepsister, Robyn, the owner of the gallery, looking very glamorous in black and white was beckoning to him pushing forward a distinguished looking elderly man. "Excuse me, won't you?" Langdon's manner was so warm and charming Ross thought the man would have no difficulty selling heaters to the nomads in the desert. David Langdon had every appearance of a man you could trust with your life.
They all began to study the remarkable array of photographs, moving about the room in procession. Ross listened to the comment
s of his friends as they talked. Jessica, the creative one, was very knowledgeable. She was just right for Cy he thought. Lucky guy! He wondered where Belle had got to. Ah, there she was, standing with a redhaired woman, seemingly at ease. He stopped for a moment to read a CV of Langdon's work. Very impressive. He'd spent time in the war zones, East Timor, Afghanistan, Iraq. He was very widely travelled. A great deal in South East Asia. Thailand, Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaysia, Papua New Guinea. Ross had seen his marvellous impressions of that little known country although it lay on Australia's door step. Separated momentarily from the others-so many people wanted to meet Jessica-he studied the shots of the Great Barrier Reef and the glorious tropical islands. Langdon must have spent hours and hours flying around trying to find the exact spots. Probably in a helicopter or a light plane, door open, strapped in tightly so he could film. Perfect crystal clear waters, cobalt skies, pure white sand ringing jade islands.
He wouldn't mind a few weeks on a tropical island. He could almost feel himself there. His eyes dwelt with pleasure on a magnificent shot of the Outer Reef shot from the air. The deep channel was a deep inky blue, the waters a deep turquoise, with channels of aquamarine. The fantastic coral gardens were in the foreground, an anchored boat and a group of snorkellers swimming off the reef wall lending perspective. Moving on, he recognosed Four Mile Beach at Queensland's Port Douglas, the purple ranges in the background, luxeriant palms and vegetation wrapping the wide beach, sun worshippers like little colourful dots on the sand. A marvellous, marvellous shot of a small sand cay covered with nesting crested terns, the deep turquoise waters rippled with iridescent green Iike the heart of a black opal. He felt like he was in the middle of the ocean.
"These are good," he found himself murmuring aloud.
"You sound surprised?"
He straightened and turned slowly before answering, giving himself time to suppress the involuntary electric thrill that flared along his nerves. As a consequence his voice came out in that strange arrogant fashion. "That wasn't my intention. Your brother is more than a fine photographer. He's an artist."
"He is," Samantha said with complete conviction, her cheeks flushing a little at the curtness of his tone. Her powerful attraction to this man shocked Iier. Not Mr. Nice Guy that's for sure. Formidable. "I run the Sydney gallery for him. Of course you know that. We're thinking of opening another one here in Darwin."
"And what do you suppose Robyn will think about that?" Incredibly in his imagination he was pushing her low-necked dress down from her shoulders. She had beautiful breasts. She had teased him with their beauty at the wedding, smiling into his eyes, provoking him to dance with her. Of course he was obliged to. They were after all chief bridesmaid and best man.
She was shrugging lightly as if to show she was unfazed by his scrutiny and the challenge of his comment. "There's plenty of room for another gallery. Robyn specialises in paintings and sometimes sculptures. Hopefully one gallery will be a spin off for the other. There are always a great many tourists in town."
"Yes," he agreed briefly, feeling as though he was drunk on some rich potent wine. That was the effect she had on him. But no way, no way, was he about to fall to his knees.
She was returning his gaze equably, so gracious when he always acted the complete boor around her. He suspected she was doing it deliberately.
"I'm wondering why you don't like me, Ross?" she inquired softly. "No, don't throw up your head." Which he did in that high mettled way. "Don't deny it. We both know it's true. Remember how it was at the wedding?"
As if he had forgotten.
"I didn't imagine your... what can I call it? Animus, antagonism? Was it something I said? Something I did? I seem to have gone over it many many times in my head. But it's still there tonight. The thing is, David and I are so hoping you'll act as our guide. It would be awkward if there remained difficulties between us."
He frowned, giving her a look that both smouldered and sparkled. "You intend to go along then?"
"I've never seen a man with aquamarine eyes." She was so unnerved she didn't answer his question, hut said the first thing that came into her head.
"It runs in the family." He returned carelessly. "Lest you deflect me, I'll ask again. Do you intend to go along on this trip?"
There was no mistaking the opposition on his hard, handsome face. "I'm thrilled David wants me," she said, feeling the friction between them like a burr against the skin. "I don't know if you've noticed the little texts beneath the photographs. I was responsible for them."
It was a reflex to compliment her. He had thought they were Langdon's; a few lines, often poetic capturing the very essence of the scene. "Very good."
"I don't think you know-I made such a poor impression on you at Cy's and Jessica's wedding but I write and illustrate children's stories as well as managing the gallery. They're for children with vivid imaginations. They're starting to do very well. Jessica and I took a Fine Arts Degree together, but I'm not nearly so gifted as she. It won't be too long before Jessica gives an exhibition of her paintings. She not only fell madly in love with her Territory Man, she fell in love with the Territory. So far David hasn't photographed the Top End or the Red Centre which has been widely covered of course. He likes to capture his subject matter in a new light."
"And it works." He tried hard to lighten up but that was difficult when he was standing less than an arm's length from her. "You realise a trip into Kakadu wouldn't be a picnic?"
She tilted her chin, hoping her eyes weren't betraying her reactions. This man attracted and daunted her in equal measure. "I know it's a great wilderness area."
He nodded, his black hair sheened with purple highlights like the sky at midnight. For a cattle man used to working gear, off duty he was very stylishly groomed. Dark cream linen suit. White shirt with a brown stripe the top button casually undone. Silk tie with alternating white and brown stripes. Sexy enough to take her breath away.
"Have you ever got up close and personal with a twenty foot croc?" he asked with light sarcasm.
"I'd make sure you were in front of me." She tried to joke.
"It's no joke," he told her, his lean features taut.
"I'll have you know I'm serious." She looked directly at him, feeling on her mettle. "What is it, Ross? Have you written me off as a bimbo? Someone who'll turn into a quivering liability?"
"I have to tell you I wouldn't be happy to take you," he said bluntly.
"Samantha," she prompted. "That's my name. Sam, if you like."
"Sam is just too quaint." Anyone less like a Sam he had yet to see. He gazed into her dark doe eyes, bright with little golden motes.
She could have hit him. Damaged her hand. Herself. "Actually I was hoping your sister, lsabelle-she's so beautiful-might be persuaded to come along with us. Station bred she'd be an enormous help to me."
He could only warn her off. "Belle wouldn't be interested, I'm afraid. She lost her husband not so long ago."
Samantha dipped her head, her nerves tightening. "Jessica told me. I'm so very sorry. She's so young. Mightn't it help her to get out though, don't you think? Nature is a great healer.
Very deliberately he cut off that line of thinking. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Samantha."
The effect of her name on his lips was extraordinary. How strange it was to be excited by a man and thoroughly disconcerted at the same time. "Don't be like that," she pleaded.
"Like what?" He was sizzling with sexual energy. A male aggression that appeared to possess him in her presence. Chaos threatened when he liked order.
"Arrogant, actually," she told him quietly, feeling a twist of desire deep inside her and nothing she could do about it. "Unpleasant as well when Cy thinks you're the greatest guy in the world."
"Maybe I'm a lot more used to dealing with men than women. I'm sorry. I apologise."
His sudden smile made her suck in her breath. It bathed his rather severe handsome features in dazzling light. "That's not what I've heard either,"
she found herself saying.
"Meaning what?" He shrugged, a surprisingly elegant movement.
"There are a lot of girls hung up on you I was told. I suppose that's a good sign. Then again a lot of women are attracted to men who have little use for them."
"And you're assuming I'm that kind of man?"
The colour of his remarkable eyes was a source of wonder. "Aren't you?" Her every instinct had warned her this man was trouble yet she plunged ahead angered by his resistance, almost dismissal. It wasn't something she was used to.
"I love my sister," he pointed out.
"You certainly should. You had to stick together."
His expression tightened. "Cy told you my life story?"
"What's wrong with that? I was interested. He filled me in a little way. I know your parents divorced when you were twelve and your sister a few years younger. Don't feel overly bad about that. Our mother and father split up when I was still at school and David had already left home. Both of them are re-married. David and I have two stephrothers-my dad's. Things like that."
