by Margaret Way
Karen waited her moment until they were back at the homestead.
The men, Dev and Varo, refreshed, had returned to the Six Mile, where a thousand head of cattle were being yarded in advance of the road trains that were scheduled to arrive the following day.
Ava had taken a quick shower, washing the lagoon water out of her hair before changing into fresh clothes. She and Amelia planned on continuing their discussions with Nula Morris, the new housekeeper. Nula was a part aboriginal woman married to one of their best stockmen. Amelia’s mother, the by now notorious Sarina Norton, had trained Nula as well as the rest of the domestic staff. She had done an extremely good job of it. No one could deny that.
Food and drink had to be planned for the coming polo weekend, and for the buffet at the party on Saturday night. For those who stayed on until Sunday, either camping out or finding a place in the station dorms, there would be a lavish Sunday brunch. All in all, the first big test for Nula—although she would have lots of help. The wedding reception, of course, would be fully catered.
Inevitably, Karen showed up at her door, charging past her. She spun to drill Ava with an accusatory look. Small wonder Amelia had long since christened Karen “The Snoop.”
“You’re spending a lot of time with Varo,” she burst out, not beating about the bush.
Ava didn’t hotly deny the allegation. Instead she said, very quietly, “Forgive me, but is that any of your business?” She was determined to hold on to her composure.
“Of course it is,” her cousin hissed. “I’ve been looking out for you since we were kids. I never thought you capable of wayward impulses, Ava, but it seems you are. I believe I have the right as your cousin to point out that you’ve got your feet planted on the slippery slope.” She stared at Ava intently, the pupils of her dark eyes black and huge.
“Which slope would that be?”
“Don’t evade the issue, Ava.”
“What? My wayward tendencies? You never stop, do you?” Ava sighed. “You have to show me you’re far wiser, far more sophisticated than I. For years you were the superior schoolgirl. Now you’re the experienced woman of the world. So far you’re the one who has been chasing after our guest, Karen. We’ve all noticed.”
Karen’s face turned red. “Maybe a little,” she confessed, trying to make light of it. “But fun is all it is,” she maintained vigorously. “A bit of a release from my tight work schedule in the city. In any case, I’m a free agent. I have no commitment to anyone. Unlike you.”
“And you can’t help feeling a bit jealous?”
“Yo!” Karen did her extraordinary reining-in gesture. “Don’t be so ridiculous! It has never occurred to me to be jealous of you, Ava. Protective is the word. We’re cousins. Family. Right now you must be feeling very vulnerable. Don’t think I can’t see how easy it would be for you to fall for someone like Varo. Those dark eyes…the way he looks at a woman like she’s the most desirable woman in the world. The smile. The charisma. It’s all South American macho stuff. That’s the way they are. Let me tell you, Varo is used to making conquests.”
“I’m sure of it,” Ava returned. “I can’t think why you’re working yourself up to such a state. Varo hasn’t stolen my heart.”
“Then what?” Karen demanded to know. “I’m a remarkably good judge and I’d say he has.”
“I don’t know if you’re a good judge or not, but you’re remarkably interfering,” Ava said. “You are my cousin, but you’re also a guest here. I really don’t need any lectures.”
“Why take it like that?” Karen issued a protest. “Amelia has always carried on scandalously, so she won’t advise you.”
Ava’s eyes sparkled dangerously. “I’d take that back, if I were you.”
“Okay, okay—but Amelia is not you. Surely you recognise that? She’s a very sensual woman. You’re the Snow Maiden.”
“I haven’t been a maiden for years now, Karen. And I’ve told you before not to discuss or criticise Amelia or her mother. I consider Amelia my champion in all things. Not you.”
“Well, then, make a fatal mistake!” Karen exclaimed, angry and affronted.
“Another one, you mean? You’ve shown far more loyalty to my husband than you’ve ever done to me.”
“Why shouldn’t I turn to Luke? He’s my friend. He’s a good man, Ava, and you’ve deliberately cast him aside. So much for your marriage vows. Luke loves you. Only now you’ve got all that money you want to be free.”
Ava started walking to the door. “Maybe it’s best if you leave now, Karen. You’d make a terrible marriage guidance counsellor. No one on the outside can see inside a marriage. If Luke considers himself unhappy, he made me unhappy for most of our married life. Like you, he took pleasure in putting me down, eroding my self-confidence.”
Karen shook her glossy head. “I never remember him doing that. I strenuously deny it in my case. You’re too thin-skinned, Ava. You take offence too easily. I didn’t mean to upset you, but certain things have to be said. You know nothing about Juan-Varo de Montalvo beyond the fact he’s Argentine, stunningly handsome, of good family and a splendid polo player. You’re very beautiful, in your quiet way. It’s nothing to him to start up a flirtation, even an affair. Ask him about the young woman he’s left behind.”
Ava couldn’t ignore the stab of apprehension. “You know about such a woman?”
“I don’t know,” Karen replied in her familiar arrogant tone, “but I suspect it from a few things he’s let drop. Think about it, Ava. He’s nearly thirty years of age. His family will be expecting him to choose a bride soon. He wants a family. It’s time. I wonder you haven’t thought of all this. He’s simply playing you for all it’s worth.”
“It’s a wonder you haven’t kept notes,” Ava said, maintaining her cool. “Strange, I didn’t think Varo had had the time, with you fussing over him, but thank you for your concern. If that’s what it is. I would appreciate it if you kept all your insights to yourself for the rest of your stay. We Langdons want nothing to spoil this happy time. I could be mistaken—if so I’m sorry—but I think you’re out to upset me.”
Karen stalked to the door, her dark head held high. “I’ve simply told you what you need to know,” she said sanctimoniously.
“You’ll stay in touch with Luke?” Ava asked.
“Are you suggesting I don’t?” Karen threw up her chin aggressively. “I’m not taking sides in this. I care for you both.”
Ava ignored that spurious claim. “I’m sure he knows you’re here. You both think you’re in the perfect position to keep tabs on me.”
“I’ll forget you said that, Ava.”
Ava took little heed of the tone of deep hurt.
“Better if you remember it,” she replied.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE polo day was as brilliant as promised.
There was a great stir of excitement from the crowd as the Red Team, captained by James Devereaux Langdon, and the Blue Team, captained by the visiting Argentine Juan-Varo de Montalvo, cantered onto the field to wave upon wave of applause. Horses were part of Outback life, so it was no surprise polo was a great attraction, drawing crowds over long distances even by Outback standards. Polo was the fastest game in the world, and it had the seductive element of danger.
“Oh, isn’t this exciting?” Moira O’Farrell, a very pretty redhead and a polo regular, threw back her head, rejoicing in the fact.
Four men to a team, all of them were tall, with great physiques and good-looking to boot, but all female eyes were on the Argentine. He was so exotic, so out there. Dev Langdon was taken, after all. No use looking to him. All these guys were seriously sexy. All at this point of time bachelors. That was of profound interest and concern. The polo “groupies” were among the most involved spectators. Would it be so amazing
if one of them caught the eye of the devastatingly handsome Argentine? Not difficult to see oneself as mistress of some fabulously romantic estancia on the pampas. Not to mention the high life in Buenos Aires, home of the dead-sexy tango.
In the main it had fallen to Ava to organise the weekend’s events. Never one to sing her own praises—Ava was modest about her abilities—she actually had exceptional organisational skills. As her mother Elizabeth told her, with loving pride, “Far better than mine, my darling!”
Multi-coloured bunting decorated the grounds, aflutter in the light cooling breeze. Prominent amid the fluttering little flags was the Argentine, pale blue and white—Argentina was the polo capital of the world, a Mecca for top players—and the red, white and blue of Australia, a polo-playing nation. The polo field itself was a good three hundred yards in length and more than half that distance in width. Today, after concentrated maintenance, it was a near unprecedented velvety green. The going had to be just right for the game. Too hard would jar the legs of the polo ponies. Too soft would slow down the action.
Several of the players on the polo circuit had travelled overland with their string of ponies—though ponies was a traditional term. The polo ponies of today were full-sized horses, either thoroughbreds or thoroughbred crosses, their legs protected by polo wraps from below the knee to the fetlock. Long manes were roached, tails braided. Nothing could be allowed to snag the rider’s mallet. The taller the horse, the longer the mallet. Both Dev and Varo were six-footers-plus.
Amelia was wearing a polka-dotted navy and white shirt, with chinos in bright red accentuating her long legs. There was no doubting which team Amelia was barracking for. Ava had found herself choosing a pale blue silk shirt to go with her white lightweight cotton jeans. No coincidence that her outfit bore the colours of the flag of Argentina. Karen wore dazzling white. Karen was always given to block colours. All black, all white, or all neutral beige. Once she had claimed she was channelling Coco Chanel. With some success, Ava had often thought. The tall, super-thin Karen always looked elegant. Today for the afternoon match she wore a collarless white shirt tucked into very narrow-legged white jeans with high heeled wedges on her feet. As a concession she had quite dashingly tied a blue silk scarf patterned in sun-yellow around her throat.
Behind her designer sunglasses Karen’s dark eyes gleamed. She thought she was on to something. It wouldn’t take her long to find the answers. She sat with the family—Erik and Elizabeth Langdon, Ava and Amelia the bride-to-be, and her own parents, who were giving the distinct impression they weren’t all that keen on sport in general, and were apprehensive of such a dangerous sport as polo. For all they knew a charging player could lose control of his pony and plough into the area where they were sitting.
“You’ve done a great job, kiddo.” Amelia complimented her friend and chief bridesmaid with real enthusiasm.
“I’m happy with it.” Ava was watching Varo riding the bay gelding Caesar for the first chukka. The horse’s hide had been lovingly burnished until it gleamed in the sunlight. Rider and polo pony looked magnificent. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Karen wave to Varo, as if he was her champion in a medieval joust. Ava transferred her gaze to her adored brother, who lifted a hand to them, then laughed as Amelia jumped to her feet waving a red bandana. Both young women laughed back in response. It was going to be a great day.
Ava had had the tall collapsible goalposts freshly painted in the colours of the two teams. Even the big white marquees that had been set up for food and drink had been decorated with the teams’ colours. Adjacent picket fences had received a fresh coat of white paint.
The periods of play had already been decided. Six chukkas, each the traditional seven minutes long. Dev and Varo would only be playing two ponies, both well-trained Kooraki throughbred crosses. They had the right temperament, and proven speed, stamina and manoeuverability skills. Dev was used to all four ponies, and Varo had taken a hour or two to familiarise himself with his mounts’ abilities.
Two members of Dev’s team had brought along half a dozen good polo ponies between them, the idea being they could switch a tired pony for a fresh one between chukkas. Ava knew all the players. She had seen them play many times before, so she knew they were highly competitive. Dev’s team, all from Outback properties, weren’t going to let the Argentine’s team win.
They were aiming high.
The best player on a team was usually the number three—the tactical leader and the most powerful hitter. Dev and Varo both wore a large white number three on the back of their coloured shirts, worn over the traditional fitted white breeches and glossy black riding boots. All players wore helmets with a chin strap. This was a dangerous game, with powerful young men wielding hardwood mallets.
“That’s one sexy outfit!” Moira was really on a roll. She made the excited comment to the amusement of those around her.
It was a very friendly crowd, with lots of exchanges between spectators. Not that Moira wasn’t spot on. Polo always attracted women who just happened to fancy the players more than the game.
It soon became evident that the number three players—the captains, the high-handicap players, hard-hitting, hard-riding, with an impressive armoury of strokes—were the best on the field. Neither was giving any quarter. In fact it was obvious to all the game’s fans that the arrival of the dashing Argentine was proving a great stimulus to players and spectators alike.
It was a hard-played, hard-drawn contest, but in the end only one team could win. During the third chukka Tom McKinnon, number one on Dev’s team, took a fall while covering the opposition number four. Tom swiftly and gamely remounted, but the Blue Team had gained the advantage. It was Varo who hit a magnificent winning goal that near stupefied the crowd so quickly and unexpectedly had it happened.
The Blue Team won, with good-natured cheers soaring to the cobalt-blue heavens.
It had been a wonderful match. The best for a very long time.
“Let’s face it. The Argentine lifted the game. The captains were matched, but the others weren’t in the same class.”
It was Ava who was to present the cup to the captain of the winning team. Up close to Varo, she was perilously conscious of his sizzling energy, the sheer force of his sexual attraction that blazed like a brand. Indeed, to the crowd she looked like a beautiful and delicate porcelain figurine before him.
“Congratulations, Varo,” she said sweetly, though the nerves in her body were leaping wildly. “That was a very exciting match.”
“Gracias, señora,” he said, silken suave, but with that mocking glint in his eyes. “I thoroughly enjoyed it.” Bending his dark head, his hair as high-sheened as a bird’s wing, he kissed one of her cheeks, and then the other, breathing into her ear, “You look as cool as a camellia, mi hermosa.”
She knew her cheeks pinkened but she moved back smilingly to present him with the silver cup. It was no everyday sort of thing, and one he would be happy to take back to Argentina.
Fresh waves of applause broke out. The crowd had melted for the Argentine. He had such animal magnetism—like some wonderful exotic big cat. Everyone was basking in his physical exhilaration.
Dev joined them now, his hair as golden as Varo’s was raven-black. He threw an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “My team will make a comeback,” he joked. “That was a great game, Varo. You inspired us all.”
Not to be left out, Amelia made a move up to them. Dev caught her around the waist, his aquamarine eyes sparkling with health and vigour. Brother and sister side by side could have been twins, which had been remarked on since childhood.
“Let’s get ourselves a cold drink,” Dev said, and started to move off to a marquee.
Karen bit her lip hard. She wasn’t going to be denied her moment. She followed them and caught Varo’s arm firmly, causing him to swing about. “May I add my congratulations
, Varo?” She brushed his cheek with her hand. “That was a splendid match,” she told him with warm enthusiasm, tugging at her blue and yellow silk scarf with its Argentine flag colours.
Varo responded gallantly. “Thank you so much, Karen. I enjoyed it too.”
“I’m sure every woman in the crowd was urging you on,” Karen said archly. “I know Ava was.” She transferred a pointed gaze to her cousin.
“Well, partly,” Ava responded lightly. “I wanted Dev’s team to win at the same time. But as we all know there can only be one winner.”
“And winner takes all!” Karen’s tone was decidedly provocative.
* * *
“Why did we ever invite that woman?” Amelia asked Ava later.
“Beats me,” Ava responded. “We’re from different galaxies. But she’s family. It doesn’t always mean families are nice.”
“She always was a pain in the neck,” said Mel, giving Ava a hug. “Don’t let her bug you. Obviously she’s trying to. Jealous, I’d say.”
Ava gave a little grimace. “You’re the second person who’s told me recently Karen is jealous of me.”
“So are you convinced?” Mel asked with a quirked brow.
“Getting there,” Ava admitted with a laugh.
“I bet it was Varo who made the comment,” Mel said very softly in Ava’s ear.
“In a word, yes.” Ava blushed.
Mel’s lustrous dark eyes were fixed on her friend’s face. “Both of you are playing it ultra cool, but it’s not hard to see the attraction. It pulses around you. I’m sure you’re aware Karen is keeping you under observation? To report to Luke, I wonder?”
Ava felt a hot prickling sensation all over her body. “There’s nothing to report,” she said huskily.
“You deserve to be happy, Ava,” Mel said with the greatest affection. “Don’t turn your back on your chances.”
