Why didn’t he say something? Unable to look at him directly, she was none the less acutely aware of him as he took his eyes from her face and leant his arms on the veranda rail. His stillness was unnerving. His gaze was fixed on the empty stockyards, where David’s small figure could be seen hanging aimlessly over the wooden rails.
He wouldn’t say anything until he had thought it through, Olivia realised resignedly, letting the calm of the afternoon settle on her as the tension slowly unwound into the silence. She hadn’t realised quite how nervous she had been about approaching Guy, but now it was done. The decision was his.
‘You’re willing to do this for David?’ he asked at last. ‘Give up your career? Live in the outback? Marry a man you hardly know?’
‘Yes.’
There was another long silence until, still looking out at the stockyards, he said, ‘All right, I’ll marry you - on two conditions.’
‘Conditions?’ Olivia tucked a swathe of blonde hair behind her ear and eyed him warily.
‘First, that it’s just until David goes away to school.’
That was fair enough. There was no reason for him to want to tie himself to her for life, was there? She squashed a quite ridiculous feeling of hurt. ‘What’s the second condition?’ she asked.
‘That no one else knows the arrangement we’ve come to. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, we should be married like everyone else.’
She hesitated. ‘That’s not a problem, is it?’
‘It’s not a problem, no.’ He looked up at her, his eyes creased against the light. ‘But I wonder if you’ve thought about what it involves?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ll have to sleep together, for a start.’
For a long moment, Olivia couldn’t say anything. Her heart did a long, slow somersault and thumped painfully back into place, as a vision of Guy making love to her presented itself with unnerving clarity. ‘I -’ Her voice sounded unnaturally high and she hastily cleared her throat. It wouldn’t do to let Guy know how the idea had affected her. ‘That won’t be necessary, surely?’ she managed stiffly.
The elusive amusement was lurking at the back of his eyes and around his mouth. ‘Perhaps I should rephrase it? We’ll have to share a room.’
‘But I don’t see why.’
‘In Australia, most married couples share a room and a bed. Perhaps it’s different in England?’
‘Of course it’s not!’ She flushed at the sardonic note in his voice.
‘Well, then.’ Guy might have been discussing the price of feed, for all the emotion he showed, Olivia reflected bitterly. ‘Look, Olivia, all I’m saying is that if we don’t sleep in the same room pretty soon people are going to wonder what sort of marriage we have. You might think we’re stuck out in the middle of nowhere, but I can assure you that everyone within a two-hundred-mile radius will know exactly what’s going on everywhere else. Lots of people pass through a property like this - ringers, truckies, the vet, government inspectors, deliveries, roo shooters… You’d be surprised what they know.’
‘So it’s not as isolated as I thought.’ Olivia tried to shrug carelessly. ‘But what does it matter what they think?’
Guy’s eyes shuttered. ‘It matters to me, and it will matter to David. This is my home. I don’t want people thinking there must be something wrong with me if my own wife won’t sleep with me. And David - if he thinks we just got married for him, I think he’ll feel guilty, even embarrassed. Do you want that?’
‘No.’ Olivia stepped away restlessly, pushing the silky hair away from her face in frustration. ‘I didn’t really have this in mind when I suggested marriage,’ she said at last.
‘I’m sure you didn’t.’ The dry amusement was unmistakable this time. ‘You’re the one who wants to get married. I’m just pointing out what it will entail. Quite apart from anything else, if the immigration authorities hear any gossip that leads them to suspect that ours isn’t a real marriage you’ll be out of Australia before you can bat those long eyelashes of yours. I think you should bear that in mind.’
Olivia folded her arms about her in agitation and began to pace up and down the veranda. ‘All right, all right. Point taken. It’s not as straightforward as I thought it was.’ She paused, and turned back to face him, biting her lip. ‘I suppose we ought to be honest about this. What exactly do you expect out of this marriage?’
Guy raised one eyebrow, and Olivia found herself noticing the texture of his skin, the way the brown hair grew at his temples. She had a sudden urge to reach out and run her fingers over his jaw to feel the first faint prickle of stubble.
‘Just what we’ve discussed.’ She jerked her attention back to what he was saying. ‘David’s a responsibility that we share. I expect you to be a mother for David, and a housekeeper for me. I also expect you to behave like any other affectionate wife - at least when anyone else is present.’
‘Then sharing a room isn’t …’ Olivia found herself floundering. ‘When you said sleep together, did you mean … would you expect …?’ Damn him! Why didn’t he help her? He must know quite well what she meant! ‘Will you … I mean, will we …?’ She trailed off to look at him hopelessly.
Guy looked back, expressionless.
‘Not until you ask, Olivia.’
Later, Olivia could remember almost nothing about her wedding - only Guy pushing the ring impersonally on to her finger, and looking down at her name in the register with something like a shock. Olivia Bridewell, successful career woman, was now Olivia Richardson, a wife, but not a real wife. A mother, but not a real mother.
It had taken her ages to decide what to wear. She didn’t want Guy to think she was making a big deal of the ceremony, but it was her wedding, after all, and it would look odd if she made no effort at all. In the end she’d chosen a suit in wild sandalwood silk. It was very plain, with a short, round-necked jacket and a narrow skirt, but it was one of her favourite outfits. She had often worn it for business lunches, or important meetings. It made her feel cool, feminine, confident.
She needed all the confidence she could get today, she’d thought, fastening a flat gold link necklace around her neck. At the last moment she changed her earrings for a pair of silver dolphins. They didn’t really go, but Diane had given them to her. Today, of all days, she wanted to remember Diane. She’d touched them as if they were a talisman as she inspected her solemn reflection in the mirror.
‘I hope I’m doing the right thing, Diane,’ she’d whispered.
Guy had casually announced that they were going into Cloncurry to get married that morning, and the ringers had been too polite, or too uninterested, to ask awkward questions about the reasons for such a sudden, businesslike wedding. They had mumbled congratulations, reassuring each other that it would be good to have a woman at Willagong Creek - as if any woman would have done, Olivia thought in exasperation.
David had said only, ‘Oh, so you’re staying,’ but she had seen a flash of relief in his eyes, and it was enough to strengthen her resolve.
Now, staring out of the window as they drove back along the bumpy track to Willagong Creek, she twisted the ring on her finger and thought about Guy. Her husband. It irritated her that she could remember vividly every time he had touched her, however brief and impersonal. What would it be like lying in bed next to that lean, hard body? What would it be like if he turned towards her and touched her, not impersonally, but intimately, letting his hands linger against her skin …
Not until you ask, Olivia.
Olivia’s eyes snapped green at the memory. If he thought she was going to beg him to make love to her, he had another think coming! She wouldn’t so much as ask him to take the lid off a jam jar for her!
Reassured by the rush of angry pride, she tilted her chin at the still, silent landscape. She had reluctantly agreed to share a room with Guy, but he should not have the satisfaction of knowing that it bothered her one little bit! She would be very cool, very sophisticated, an
d with any luck he would be the one to feel uncomfortable!
She stole a covert glance at him under her lashes. His hands were relaxed, competent on the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the horizon, noting the dryness, checking the fences, assessing the condition of the cattle. He was clearly not wasting any time wondering about climbing into bed next to her!
No, Guy was not going to be the one who felt uncomfortable. Olivia looked away with a tiny sigh. He must feel something. Would he be wishing he was in bed with someone else? What about the elusive girlfriend that David had talked about? Guy had never mentioned her, and surely if she had been serious he wouldn’t even have considered Olivia’s offer …
‘Why have you never married before?’ she asked abruptly.
He glanced at her, then back at the horizon. ‘Never got round to it. I’ve thought about it, lots of times. A place like this needs a woman - as you’ve noticed. I guess I haven’t had time to find myself a suitable girl.’
‘So now you’ve ended up with an unsuitable one?’
He glanced at her again, and this time his eyes lingered on her warm, flawless skin, on the swinging hair, dramatic sea-blue eyes and elegant suit. ‘Ye-es,’ he agreed slowly. There was a tantalising almost-smile lurking in his eyes and about his mouth.
Olivia felt something deep inside her clench. ‘Won’t the ringers think it funny that you married someone so unsuitable?’ she asked defensively.
‘Why should they? You’re an attractive girl, as you’re well aware. I should think they’ll probably draw their own conclusions.’
Guy’s voice was dry, and Olivia flushed. ‘Perhaps people might think it’s odd that I married you?’ she said, more sharply than she had intended.
‘That’s more likely,’ he agreed equably. Another amused glance. ‘You’ll just have to convince anyone who asks that you’re madly in love with me.’
‘That’s hardly likely!’ she snapped, unaccountably ruffled.
‘As the saying goes, I know that, you know that, but they don’t know that. And, more importantly, the immigration authorities don’t know that.’
Olivia bit her lip, silenced by his cool reminder of the reason for their marriage.
After a while, he asked, ‘What about you?’
‘Me?’
‘How come you’re not married? You must be, what, thirty?’
‘Twenty-nine,’ Olivia said icily.
Guy shrugged, unapologetic. ‘Twenty-nine, then.’
‘I suppose I never got round to it either,’ she said after a pause. ‘I went out with Tim for years. We talked about it every now and then, but I had my career and Tim had his, and … I don’t know … there didn’t seem to be any need to make such a big commitment. We worked for the same organisation, so we saw each other the whole time.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose we stayed together out of habit more than anything else. If it had been a real relationship, we would never have hesitated so long. It certainly didn’t take Tim long to commit himself once he met Linda.’
She was unaware of the note of bitterness in her voice, but Guy glanced at her. ‘So you’ve come all the way to Australia to get over your broken heart?’ he said sardonically. ‘Is marriage to me just part of your revenge on this Tim?’
‘I married you for the same reason that I came to Australia - David,’ Olivia reminded him coldly. ‘I’m not denying that it was a welcome opportunity to get away from things, but if you think I would marry someone like you for a petty reason like pique you’re much mistaken!’
‘So, what’s he like - Tim?’
Olivia gave a little shrug. ‘Very sociable. Lots of fun. Successful.’ For the first time she realised that she couldn’t conjure up a clear picture of Tim’s face. His memory seemed blurred, like that of someone she had known years ago.
‘Sounds more your type,’ Guy commented, and Olivia wondered if she could possibly have imagined an undercurrent of jealousy in his voice. But his face was as unrevealing as ever, and she turned back to the window, deciding that she must have been mistaken.
‘Yes, I suppose he is.’
They finished the journey in silence.
Chapter Four
The homestead was deserted when they arrived, and Guy lost no time in changing back into jeans and boots and dark cotton shirt. He disappeared in the direction of the stockyards, leaving Olivia alone with the silent, dusty house.
My wedding-day, she thought sadly, running a finger along a shelf and leaving a deep groove in the dust. Until Linda had come on the scene, she had always imagined herself marrying Tim in some vague future. Tim was a traditionalist; there would have been a church, cake, tossing the bouquet. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the scene, but all she could see was Guy’s face, the elusive amusement and the deep creases round his eyes before he turned back to squint at the horizon once more.
As if drawn, she walked slowly down the corridor and opened the door to Guy’s room. Their room. The vast iron bedstead faced the windows, dominating the room. Their bed. Olivia stood at the foot and stared down at it, chewing her lip uncertainly. Did Guy really expect her to calmly climb in next to him? What if she found herself rolling against him, skin against skin? What then? Involuntarily, she shivered.
She couldn’t do it! Wrapping her arms tightly round her in a characteristic gesture, she moved abruptly away to the window. She was nervous, and resentful of the fact. She had always been in control before, of her job, her men, her life. It wasn’t the thought of Guy touching her that unnerved her, it was the knowledge that she might not be able to control her own reaction if he did.
Her sense of resentment grew as she dragged her cases along the corridor and unpacked. She didn’t want Guy to make her feel unsettled and jittery. She wanted to feel coolly sophisticated again; sleeping with Guy was just part of the deal. And while it might be just a business arrangement, he could at least have spent the afternoon with her on their wedding day. He was the one who was so keen for it to look like a normal marriage, after all!
Her clothes looked all wrong, hanging in the wardrobe next to Guy’s. Olivia viewed them moodily. On top of the chest of drawers, her cosmetics were bright splashes of colour and frivolity, out of place in the plain, masculine room.
The sandalwood suit was crushed and grubby after the long drive. Guy hadn’t commented on it once, she realised as she stripped it off and showered.
Convincing herself that she didn’t care, Olivia changed into a soft, floaty dress in mingled blues and greens which deepened the blue of her eyes. It was strange how comforting familiar routines were, she thought, automatically applying subtle make-up, and searching through her things for a matching pair of shoes. When she had finished, she felt more like herself again.
She found Guy out on the veranda as usual, sitting relaxed in one of the wicker chairs, a can of beer on the floor by his side. Not for the first time, Olivia wished there was some music, anything to detract from the empty silence. It never seemed to bother Guy. He unfolded his lean frame from the chair as she appeared, raising one eyebrow in typically understated surprise.
‘You’ve changed.’ His dark eyes swept over her, and to her chagrin Olivia immediately found some of her newly regained composure slipping away.
‘Very perceptive of you,’ she said snippily. ‘I didn’t think you noticed what I wore.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I might as well have been wearing a sack today for all the notice you took!’
‘I noticed all right.’ A look of amusement crossed Guy’s face. ‘I just thought brown was a funny colour to choose to wear to a wedding.’
‘It wasn’t brown, it was sandalwood,’ Olivia corrected him, tight-lipped.
‘Looked brown to me.’ The amusement deepened, but the smile remained infuriatingly elusive.
‘Well, it wasn’t!’ Why was she arguing about it? she wondered, cross with herself as much as with him.
He shrugged. ‘You’re the fashion expert.’ He resumed his seat. �
��You planning to change for dinner every night?’
‘I usually do.’ She stiffened at the implied criticism in his voice. ‘It wouldn’t do the rest of you any harm to change either. It would set a good example to David.’
Guy took a long pull at his beer, regarding her thoughtfully over the top of his can. ‘Going to lick us all into shape, are you, Olivia?’
‘I don’t think I’m likely to have much success somehow.’ Her voice was edged with bitterness as she lowered herself warily on to the other sagging chair.
‘Why not? We’re not as stuck in our ways as you seem to think.’
‘Aren’t you? I can just imagine the fuss if I tried to change anything!’
Guy’s eyes rested on the flawless profile. ‘Somehow I think you’re going to change things just by being here, Olivia.’
She glanced at him quickly, surprised by the odd note in his voice, but the deep brown eyes gave nothing away. He was like the land, she thought, hard and brown and uncompromising, and without warning the image of lying in bed next to him recurred so vividly that she caught her breath at her own alarming twist of reaction.
‘What’s the matter?’ He was watching her more closely than she realised and had seen her involuntary gasp.
‘Nothing,’ she said quickly. She must get a hold of herself! She got up again and walked to the rail.
‘You seem nervous,’ he commented.
‘Nervous? What have I got to be nervous about?’
‘That’s what I’m wondering.’ Guy finished his beer and stood up too. ‘Afraid I’m going to jump on you?’
‘Of course not!’ she lied. She wished fervently that he didn’t seem to possess that uncanny ability to read her mind. She lifted her chin. ‘Anyway, you’ve made it more than clear that it’s the last thing on your mind.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he said, a glimmer of amusement back in his eyes.
Woman at Willagong Creek Page 5
