by Margaret Way
"What was that all about?" Ross asked, letting his flashlight play along the ground ahead of where they walked. They were using a small petrol driven generator out of the back of one of the vehicles to cast additional light on the site, but the bush was blacker than black at night.
Samantha didn't want to tell him. She had to think. "He's a bit upset. He's a sensitive soul, Matt."
Sunderland just laughed. "Don't you think it's time for him to grow up?"
"Don't be impatient with him. He hasn't had your upbringing. His skin is quite fair. I've seen the bites. He must feel on fire."
"Well I'm sorry about that," Ross said, not even bothering to disguise the impatience in his voice, "but I'm afraid Matt pointedly chose to ignore my advice this morning when David and I were sensibly giving ourselves a good protective dousing."
Samantha walking at his shoulder, was vividly aware of his physical presence. It was something that could not be ignored, or locked away for when she was on her own. I've regressed to adoring teenager with an almighty crush. "I can't understand why Matt was so foolish. He's not usually like that.,'
"Are you sure you really know him?" Ross asked, his voice dry. "Or just vaguely?"
"I know him well enough." It wasn't the right answer. She only thought she knew him.
"You'd tell me if he started to bother you?" He paused as they came within the perimeter of light. It was marvellous the way she kept so shiningly clean and fresh even when tramping through the bush in the humid heat. "Certainly you would tell David?"
Her eyes remained focused on him as though she were unable to look away. Her whole being seemed to be melting so powerful was his attraction. "Matt won't do anything to wreck his chances with David. Matt's not really a man of action, I suppose." She sounded distressed. "Being out of his element has made him feel inadequate, but he'll pick up."
"So how come you don't act helpless?"
"I want to impress you," she said lightly when she was speaking the exact truth. "Prove what I can do. Stuff like that."
"You're managing to get away with it too," he commented dryly as though admitting to a weakness. "As for Matt, he knew what he was in for surely?"
"Give him a chance, Ross," she pleaded.
God, the use of his name packed a punch. He clenched his fists before he surrendered to the dangerous impulses that powered through him; to pull her into his arms. Every minute he was with her, the desire to do so grew. Tonight that feeling was tremendously strong. Still he managed to keep his tone businesslike. "Certainly I'll give him a chance, if only because you champion him so sweetly." He made sure she heard the sarcasm. "I don't want to get on his case, but I have to tell you after today David isn't too far off telling him to straighten up his act." He avoided saying Howarth had never let up whining for most of the afternoon until at one point he nearly gave into the urge to chuck him in the swamp. He knew Howarth had problems. Even his devotion to Samantha was a little creepy in character. He changed the subject to something less stressful. "So you and Belle went hiking this afternoon?"
She looked up at him with a smile. "We had a wonderful time. It's very powerful country and it's having its effect on me. Isabelle is an excellent guide in her own right and such good company."
"She says the same of you. I'm very grateful you and Belle are getting on so well. She's had a great grief to cope with but she's got the courage to rise above it given enough time. I was the one who got it wrong. Your coming along as it turns out, Ms Langdon, was a great idea."
"Momentous words!" she crowed. "See how easy it was to say them?"
"Well I'm not suggesting you move into my tent."
Her heart jumped. "Don't you play your games with me."
"Oh?" He sent her a sizzling glance. "It hasn't crossed your mind?"
"Oh, all right it has, but I'm not about to admit to it. Mercifully I can control my feelings."
"But you've just admitted to having them?"
"Which is more than I can say for you. You're deep, Boss Man. Impossibly deep. In fact you're a dangerous man."
"Now how would you know?"
How beautiful he was! She could sit and stare at him for ages.
"I know." She said with fervour.
"Do you now. I would never hurt you. Your boyfriend is more likely to do that than me. I have to tell you I'm keeping a watchful eye on him."
"Hold on a bit." She was dismayed. "I can handle Matt. Okay? It's you I can't handle."
He stared down at her. She was wearing a cool little top with a gauzy flowered skirt that had an uneven hem that was undoubtedly the rage. Her beautiful, oh so feminine hair was pulled back into some arrangement of plaits he found very attractive, even when he wanted to set those plaits loose. "When men collapse around you like snuffles?"
Perversely she was amused and charmed. "Well not collapse exactly. I think you've got me down as dangerous as well."
He answered without hesitation. "It so happens you're right!"
"Do I look dangerous?"
"I've no intention of flattering you."
"I'd be very surprised if you did. Like you, I want reasons. You must have made some kind of decision that involvement with a woman you perceive to be unsuitable would be akin to a rope around your neck?"
Dismal scenes from his memory bank flashed up. He even remembered the way at night time his father used sometimes take the hair brush from his mother as she sat at her dressing table and proceed to draw it through her beautiful long hair, his face wearing such an expression of love. "Not to mention a giant leap into the unknown," he replied with unnecessary harshness. "Heaven for a time then a detour to hell."
She regarded him with trepidation. "You confuse me. You tell me one thing, the next you speak as from bitter experience?"
I don't want this, he thought. I'm in thrall to this woman and I don't want to accept it. Hadn't he learned the hard way? Hadn't he been warned?
"The moment I saw you..." He stopped dead before she prised it out of him.
"Yes?" She caught her breath as if on the brink of a revelation.
There was a recklessness in his blood he knew was getting the better of him. Calm down, he exhorted himself, on the fine edge of frustration. She was with him every waking minute. She had insinuated herself into his dreams. Certainly it was witchcraft.
In a way it was like being locked in silken chains.
He looked at her through the mask he affected. "I knew then I'd have need of protective armour." He turned away, knowing he was leaving her baffled. Why not? He never meant to say half the things he was saying. "We'd better join the others. Joe's the chef tonight."
"That's right change the subject." She had to near jog to keep up. "I'd love to know what you were really going to say."
"The fact I even said it, makes me wonder."
"It would be really something to see. You losing control."
"Well you're not going to see it tonight," he answered bluntly. "Tomorrow, who knows? Joe is taking Dave and Matt out on a trip of his own while I take you and Belle somewhere you'll enjoy. Maybe a swim. I know just the spot. We can get most of the way in the 4WD then we'll have to trek. A little reward for being good and not doing too much complaining."
Her dark eyes slanted up at him. "You are such an enigma, Ross Sunderland."
"And like a woman you're desperate to solve the mystery. Are you going to say thank you?"
"Give me a moment." She touched her temple. "It's odd to be in your good books. I'll say please and thank you just for good measure. In fact I appreciate the thought so much I'm nearly on the point of tears."
It was then he shocked her into absolute silence. "I can almost feel them on my tongue."
The seductive note in his voice roused her so much he might have suddenly begun to trail a hand over her body. She could feel the blood flushing her cheeks and her neck. He had to be the most perverse man she had ever known.
Dinner was freshly caught barramundi on a bed of basmati rice spiced up with g
inger and chilli and a splash of lemon, served with considerable panache by Joe. It was a simple meal that became a taste sensation because of the freshness and superb flavour of the giant perch, one of the world's great eating fish and a symbol of the Territory. It really was like being on an old-style safari Samantha thought, hungry and utterly under a spell. This trip couldn't be long enough.
They ate around a collapsible table covered each evening with a fresh linen cloth and matching napkins. No plastic plates for them. Isabelle had sorted all that out at the homestead. They had good china, good stainless steel cutlery and fine wine glasses at their disposal. Peaches and cream out of tins for dessert. Good wine. Good coffee. Tremendous good will which was grating terribly on Matt's already strained nerves.
Afterwards they sat around in comfortable deck chairs that creaked as they moved, conversing lightly, enjoying the night.
How different it all was in the wild bush, Samantha thought. Like a dream. The sky over this marvellous mystical country was incredibly clear. She lay back in her chair staring raptly at the sky. The stars were like glowing windows through which poured the dazzling light of Heaven. Over the tip of a grove of spiky pandanus hung the Southern Cross. The air was blessedly cool after the heat of the day, the light breeze carrying myriad scents from the abundant wild flowers and fruits that appeared almost overnight from the heralding storms. She sniffed in the fragrance. There was a definite high note of wild gardenia and something else, not jasmine, but musky blossom. It was everywhere... so soporific.... She was a woman, enchanted. Liberated from the everyday world.
"You're drifting off," a voice close to her ear brought her out of her reverie.
Samantha's eyes flew open. She stared up at Ross, fantasising what it would be like to be here with him alone. She was already in love with him. Had been from the moment he had pinned her with those extraordinary eyes. It owed nothing to the time or the place though that added to the magic. She knew beyond all possible doubt this was no easy thing. She could be badly hurt. "Now you know I don't snore," she covered the fierce spasms of yearning with the mundane.
He lowered himself to the rug at her feet, drawing up his long legs. "No, but you talk in your sleep."
"What?" She leaned over the better to see his handsome face. "You've really heard me?"
He made a soft, scoffing sound. "Actually it's more like a mumble."
"So you've been spying on me? Is that what you're saying?"
"Do you want me to spy on you?" He glanced up at her.
"I'd never feel safe."
"Well relax. I check on the tents and the perimeter of the camp last thing at night before I hit the hay myself."
"Oh." She relaxed. "You had me going for a minute. Clearly you have your responsibilities." She lay back, her hands behind her head, feeling so wired it was a wonder she wasn't lit up. "You know what I'd really like to do?"
Even in the semidark she could see the sparkle of his eyes. "Join me on the rug?"
He was doing it again. Trying to throw her off balance. It shouldn't be allowed. A blush rushed over her skin. "I'm much too cautious to do that."
"What do you think might happen?" I mightn't be able to get enough of you?
"Absolutely nothing," she responded to his half derisive tone. "And just to prove it." She lowered herself onto the rug, but keeping a foot away from him. "Besides, the eyes of the world are on us."
"Really?" He turned his dark head. Joe was moving about, obviously making preparations for the morning. Matt was nowhere in sight. Gone off to bed in a huff without saying good-night? David and Belle were sitting companionably side by side, David's tawny head bent to Isabelle's sable, as he passed some remark which was met by a soft burst of laughter. They shared an affinity which was plain to see. Belle was glowing, absorbed. She seemed to have thrown off the grinding grief. Beyond that Ross could think no further.
"No one's taking the slightest notice of us," he pointed out. "We could disappear into the jungle if we liked."
"To do what?" Excitement moved in with a great rush of wings.
He trapped her gaze. "I think it would be fair to say, Samantha, I was attracted to you from the start." Why deny what was in the very air? If he admitted the attraction he might be able to head it off.
The admission had her incandescent. "Someone should have told me. You acted like you disliked me on sight."
He reached out and grasped her hand, that now lay at her side, lightly twining her fingers through his own. "That's a lie, Samantha." The urge to pull her closer was so overwhelming he almost forgot where he was, who he was, everything! He'd tried so hard to fight this feeling of losing himself. He was too accustomed, too comfortable with control. His male territory. Except since he met her he was a different man.
No wonder men went mad about women, he thought, for the first time totally comprehending his father's dilemma. She was staring at him with her large eyes, her bright copper hair now unconfined, splashing over her bare creamy shoulders and curving to her breast. Her woman's fragrance, fresh, natural, hauntingly sweet all around them, flooding him with desire. He could feel the heavenly softness and texture of her skin. It was like satin against the roughness of his work hardened hands.
"Ross?"
His mouth twisted. He released her hand, grateful in a way he could still do that. "You sound like a little girl frightened of the dark."
"I'm more afraid of you." She continued to look directly at him, trying to reconcile the barrage of contradictory messages he was sending. "What is it you're trying to do?"
"God knows!" His voice cracked. "Lose myself for a while." Pin your warm, beautiful, living body to the ground. Kiss your lovely mouth. Unbutton your shirt. Let my hand find your naked breasts. Immerse myself in you.
Hot blood was like a swirling darkness before his eyes. The force of his desire for her was getting worse with every passing day. Lord knows he had tried to put up defences. They didn't work. Somehow without his wanting it, she had slid in behind his heart. He had learned the worst way possible there was terror in wanting a woman so much. Did that tearing, violent, disruptive desire last or slip away? It had lasted with his father. He had the underlying conviction it would last with him.
Was that a blessing or a disaster? Though he would never act with the quietness and resignation of his father. He had a far more combative nature. He'd have gone to England and dragged his wife home. Kicking and screaming if he had to. Vows were vows. Marriage wasn't a sport, a recreation. Marriage was total commitment. The children of a marriage had to be protected. Did his mother have any real idea of the suffering she had caused or was she now full of regrets? I hope so, he thought with anguish. What she had done deserved punishment.
Watching him Samantha shivered. "You look so grim. What are you thinking?"
He bowed his head. "A hell of a long way back."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," he said bleakly. "It's not as though you could come up with a solution. It's all gone well beyond that." He stood up resolutely, giving her his hand. "A reasonably early night might be a good idea. I'll have a word with David before we turn in."
Once on her feet, she had a sudden hysterical desire to wrap her arms around him; lay her head against his chest. But she had her pride. "Does Isabelle know we're going with you?" she asked quietly.
"I'm sure David has told her by now." He had returned to his clipped tone. "It was meant to be a surprise, but there's such accord between them."
"Aren't you glad?" she asked gravely.
A muscle jumped along his clean sculpted jawline. "As far as it's going, yes."
"Isn't that a matter for them?"
"Belle is mourning her husband, Samantha."
Samantha had qualms she couldn't even put her finger on. "I know. Forgive me if I sound insensitive. I'm not suggesting for a moment it could be easy, but Isabelle has to survive the terrible blow that life inflicted on her. Her husband has gone and no amount of crying will bring him back
. The agony must be extreme. She told me she's been numb with it. But she's so young and so beautiful. Isabelle has decades and decades in front of her. You wouldn't want her to be alone? It can't be easy for a woman alone. Moreover a woman who has no children. I have learned from Isabelle she loves kids."
"Do you?" His face was in deep shadow but his voice was intense.
"I know exactly how many children I want. I want four."
"One husband?"
"Of course one husband. Isn't that what every woman wants when she goes into marriage?"
"I hate to remind you your parents divorced."
She sighed deeply. "They had to. It was too painful for them to remain together. Actually it was my father who was unfaithful. He was the real culprit. Divorce was the last thing my mother wanted, but after all the cruelties and humiliations, no longer loved, betrayed, rejected, she became so bitter and angry I think she wanted to kill my father. And his mistress."
