by Margaret Way
'Don't plan on stopping me.' Morgan responded smartly. 'I have as much right as you to go wherever I please.'
'True enough.' he said grimly, 'but there's no good reason why you should put yourself in danger.'
'Forget it.' Morgan shrugged. 'We've had some crazy times together. You'll be around to protect me.'
'I don't want you to go, Morgan.' He took her by the shoulders.
'Friction already?' she taunted him. 'I've been doing my own thing for most of my life. If E.J. were still here instead of in Devil Country, he'd be giving me an early- morning call.'
'All I can say is the good Lord has been looking after you. I've had to save you once or twice.'
'Don't remind me. I don't want to dwell on anything in your favour.'
'Why not? Why is your hostility so consuming?'
'Because of your ambitions.' She was staring into his eyes. Neither of them was making a move.
'Why, I ask you, are you bent on self-destruction?'
'I'm bent on opposing you,' she said, meaning it.
'So you won't feel what you want to feel?'
Her eyes flickered and her heart began to hammer. 'Will you, for God's sake, stop that?'
His twisted smile glittered. 'Exactly. We couldn't afford to be alone together.'
She honestly meant to push past him, but his nearness, the powerful magnetism of him, pulled her off course. The very worst thing happened and his arms went around her, clenching her to his warm' lean body. Her robe, loosely belted with a silk tier fell open, revealing the soft, nearly sheer film of her nightgown, the tender outline of her breasts, and swung away to her narrow waist and the tantalising curve of thigh.
Her heart was thudding so deeply, so painfully, she thought she would suffocate, yet her head was falling back, her mouth upturned. She was tragically, infamously, teetering on the brink of temptation, unable to speak when her body was communicating its need at the most powerful and primitive level.
'Morgan!' His tone was severe, constrained, as though he too was at the mercy of the physical hunger between them. Both seemed frozen, as though they would perish before surrendering to the rage that was in them, and she gave a parched little moan, attempting to soothe her mouth with the tip of her tongue.
One little action, yet it brought him to flashpoint. His control was overthrown. His handsome face, set in taut lines, became that of a conqueror. If passion had mastered him, he had to bring his own authority to bear on her. He folded her to him in a hard triumph, cushioning her raven head against his arm while he successfully captured her mouth and crushed it into subjugation.
Morgan was already defeated. She had always known in her heart this was going to happen to her. That one day she would enter that forbidden doorway. Known and hidden from the knowledge. Ty was the best and worst of her. Wasn't that why she had begun in desperation to build up defences? Hostility was her shield, her armour. The incendiary sparks that flew between them represented her way of warding him off.
The assault on her mouth, brutal and stormy in the first moments, passed into an exultation of the prize. His mouth ravished her, delighting in her cushiony lips, the play of her pointed tongue, the taste of the sweet, moist interior. Her response was high-strung, reckless as she was. This thing between them was ungovernable, a rampaging fire.
His hand brushed her breast, exciting her beyond bearing. Not content, his hand of its own accord slid under the soft lace of her nightgown, and with its advance her flesh tautened. She wanted to cry stop, but her voice was hushed, every nerve leaping beneath the satin sheath of her skin. Such a thing was unprecedented, yet her body was quivering quite beyond control. The ministration of his fingers brought the tender, highly sensitive nipple to radiant life. She was breathless, gasping at the sensations it induced. Her eyes beneath the closed lids were flickering wildly as sexual excitement welled deep within her and shot flame-like to her limbs. She wasn't even sure if her feet were on the ground. He was supporting her totally, his mouth moving down her throat and back up again to her mouth.
His mouth tasted of her, a faint perfume hung in the air and clung to their skin. Against all her long training she was pressing herself against him, feeling his arousal and the trembling muscle of his powerful, lean body. She wanted her bare flesh against his. Not this thin covering of clothes. She wanted to feel her breasts against the hard wall of his chest. She wanted... she wanted... She couldn't handle what she wanted. She was excited, in a dazzle. There were bubbles in her blood.
He caught her under the knees and lifted her off the floor, his down-bent gaze arrested by her wild beauty. She was breathing very deeply, her small, perfect breasts lifting, her nightgown an imperfect covering for her young, yearning body.
What he did now could change everything. His fierce struggle was apparent in the rigidity of his body and his tense expression. He began to move, not actually sure where he was going, not yet in control of the fierce current that fused them.
Her eyes, luminous and huge, opened and her head seemed to float up. She was nothing in his arms. Nothing. Yet, slight and soft as she was, she threatened his defences.
'Where are we going?' Her voice was hushed, bemused.
It pricked him into full consciousness. 'Nowhere. You're with me.'
Incredibly she sat up in his arms, linking her arms behind his neck. 'Now we know the truth about one another, don't we?'
'What is it?' he asked quietly, deeply into her eyes.
'We exert some kind of spell over each other.'
'I can't deny that, Morgan. Not now.'
'You had better. Put me down.'
'Are you sure you can stand up?' He slid her down against his warm, vibrant body and she half leaned against him, her forehead resting for a moment against his arm.
'Morgan?' He turned her head up so that he could look into her face.
'I'm all right.' Her green eyes reflected all the brilliance and light of emeralds.
'Don't worry too much because we're human. Let's sit down for a moment.'
He led her towards a baroque settee covered in green and gold brocade. 'I feel so terribly confused,' she said, bending forward and hugging herself with her arms.
'Why, elf?'
'Don't elf me,' she warned, simultaneously affected by the tenderness in his voice. 'How do I know you're not playing some game with me?'
'No games. Promise.' He tucked a long, gleaming strand of her hair behind her ear.
'You're capable of it.'
'What about you?' he retaliated. 'You're full of wondrous tricks.'
Morgan sighed. If I had my wits about me I could figure it all out. With you beside me I don't get the chance. It hasn't turned out quite the way we hoped, has it? E.J. in his complexity saw to it that neither of us was the outright winner.'
'Just suppose, to make sense of it, he intended us to strike a bargain and marry.'
'When we can't exchange a civil word?'
He held her incredulous eyes. 'Yet I'm quite acceptable as a lover.'
'Hah!' She leapt up. 'My body might cry out to you, but my mind tells me you're a ruthless character.'
'Oh, I am, and there is war between us, but leaving all that aside, why don't the two of us call on Marcia?'
'What a terrible idea!' Her tone revealed her surprise and dismay.
'Maybe.' He looked at his hands. 'But I'm curious about a lot of things. I've always been curious. Especially now.'
She gave an angry laugh. 'You mean now when I hold so much stock? Not to mention half of this mausoleum.'
'Fix it up and it would be rather nice. Why don't you do something womanly for a change? I've said it a million times. You offend me as a jackeroo.'
'Obviously I have to do something to put you off a bit,' she pointed out witheringly.
'I suppose so,' he sighed. 'This really isn't some kind of ploy. You don't need any more to screw you up. What Marcia and E.J. did to you was pretty dreadful. I'd really like to know why,'
Some ex
pression on his face, the utter seriousness of it, alarmed her. 'Why don't you mind your own business?' she suggested spiritedly. 'Set Camilla's heart on fire. Marry her. That's one sure way of getting me out of the house.'
'And why would I want that? You're such a mad, mad creature, everyone else seems ordinary.'
'Let's face it,' she said scathingly, 'Camilla Ogilvie is ordinary.'
'Could it be you're jealous?' His azure eyes mocked her.
'If you want to marry Camilla Ogilvie, that's OK. The problem will be where the two of you are going to live. There's no way I'm pulling out, though I can see now you're trying to force me to flee for my own protection.'
'This is a bad time for it. Did Marcia ever speak to you about your father?'
Morgan looked shocked. 'You're really pushing it, aren't you? Marcia used to send me lots of books so that she wouldn't have to speak to me at all.'
'Marcia was rather used to sexual goings-on, so I hear.'
'Say one more word about my mother---' Morgan warned fierily.
'And you'll what?'
'I'll wake Cecilia and tell her something has to be done about you.'
'I think she knows,' Ty contributed drily.
'Knows what?'
'You've hung your spell on me.'
'Bunkum!'
'What's the rest of it?' he asked her, a mocking twist to his mouth.
'I'm going to bed, Ty,' she cried emotionally.
'But not to sleep. I've decided to slam on the shower.'
'I'll sleep like a log! I'll be up early as well. To meet you all at the Two Mile.'
'And you'll be sent packing when you get there.' His lean face hardened.
'Then I promise you we'll come to blows. I'll put on such a turn, I'll embarrass you in front of the boys.'
'It's just possible they'll back me,' Ty told her. 'Have you thought of that?'
'No one on the station would dare tell me what to do.' Morgan wavered.
'But now they tell me. They fear for your life, Morgan. No, don't fling up your head. All of them to a man disapproved of the way E.J. exposed you to real danger. Ernie told me it's on account of you his nails are bitten down to the quick. Ride around the station, fine. We'll all be delighted to see you, but don't come on this brumby chase. Brumbies are wild horses. I know you might have been born on the back of a pony, but even you know there are rogues. Bad 'uns. Killers!'
'I'll be damned if I'll stay at home.'
'And I'll be damned if I let you go.'
'Wonderful!' Morgan threw up her arms. 'Then it's war!'
Chapter Four
JUST as she threatened, Morgan was up early to join in the brumby chase. She had lived all her life out of doors, mustering, boundary riding, helping with the fencing, droving, even making the station kill at times. There was nothing she liked better than being astride a horse, riding with vigour or enjoying the vast, colourful station she loved. Did Ty really think her eventful, exciting life was going to come to a close? She was as courageous as any man. More courageous than a lot of them, as she well knew. What was she supposed to do now? Sit at home reading romances, while the men came and went? She lived for adventure. Adventure wasn't playing the landed socialite like Sandra and Claire. Once or twice she had been allowed to join them in Sydney, going on the nonstop partying, functions, showings, the arts, the whole glittering scene. She had enjoyed it in a way. She loved the opera, ballet, theatre, often far more than her cousins. She had a deep sense of beauty, but she loathed all the noisy parties, the alcohol and the press of admiration. Some women exulted in playing games, in harmless and sometimes hurtful flirting, but Morgan was very sincere about everything. She had the feeling she could use her looks to wield a lot of power, but she was desperate to break loose from the sexual role imposed upon women. She had character and a mind. She was efficient and hard-working. She was responsible for herself.
When she went to her bedroom door, it was locked. She rattled the knob in a frenzy, feeling more violent by the second. What a low-down, dirty trick! Just the kind of thing a supposedly enlightened male would do. Women could agitate all they liked, men would refuse to recognise their right to act as men did in this world. Who, for instance, would have dared to lock Ty in his room? Grotesque! His boyhood activities were far more dangerous than hers. She had never been stalked by a crocodile in the Territory. The crocodile would have taken her. Ty's boyhood adventure only glorified his maleness.
It was sickening! No one, absolutely no one was going to dictate to her, tell her the way she was going to live. Her eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed. Every rotten thing Ty had done came back to her. She flung away her memories of how he had saved her from real harm. She was quivering with a passionate intensity. Ty could have saved himself the useless gesture. She would climb over the balcony, inch her way along the ledge and slide down the vigorous solandra at the corner of the west wing. The Cup of Gold vine had grown really enormous. It reached right up to the roof, heavy with glossy green leaves and huge golden flowers. It was quite capable of holding her weight.
Only once she thought she would break her neck, when a loose board wobbled beneath her foot. She gripped the balustrade for a few moments and took a deep breath. It was a long way to the ground. There were a lot of things around the homestead that needed repair. If Ty's action this morning was evidence of the kind of thing he might get up to, she had to get this particular escape route made safe. She might even get toe grips set into the wall, something like mountaineers used!
Quite sensibly she had worn gloves, and it was a relatively easy matter to climb out on the vine, her small booted feet finding purchase on the density of knotted branches. She could easily make it. But her hand, instead of clenching on the leaf-covered rope, made contact with the unmistakable slithery skin of a snake.
'Yuck!' She swung out in spontaneous shock, gritting her teeth as she began a small, painful slide, had the vine borne thorns she could have ripped herself to pieces. As it was, all she suffered was a fright and a too rapid descent to the ground.
She came, trim derriere down on the gravel, using her hands to protest herself but badly grazing one elbow. Cute! She had Ty to thank for that. She stood up, brushing herself down. Her elbow looked sore. It certainly felt sore.. And tender. There weren't too many women of the eighties who were forced into climbing out of their own home. That was another thing, she fumed. It was her house. Half her house. What the hell was he doing, locking her in?
Jimmy was busy sweeping up leaves in the courtyard, but he looked around in astonishment as Morgan dashed through the stone archway.
'Mornin', miss.'
'Good morning, Jimmy,' Morgan spoke rapidly, realising he would have received orders. 'I'm taking Sultan out this morning.'
'Where ya goin', miss?' Jimmy set his broom aside, taking a close look at her. 'Hurt ya arm, did ya?'
'A trifling thing. You heard what I said, Jimmy.'
'Sure, miss, and I'm gunna help you, only Mister Ty leave a message.'
'Do tell me,' Morgan invited.
Jimmy stroked his broad nose. 'I don't know if ya really ready for it.'
'Me, too. Please tell me all the same.'
'Follow him at your sorrow.'
'That's it?'
Jimmy shook his curly head from side to side. 'Miss, I'd listen. Best not go after them. I seen that stallion. He was close enough to shoot. Boom! Boom! Only afore I could find somethin' to shoot with he was gone. With a mare. He's huge. Massive. A grey. Kinda magnificent. Mister Ty will curse ya if ya show up.'
Morgan told a fib. 'I'm only riding to the Twin Billabongs.'
'Beaut!' Jimmy saluted smartly. 'I was worried ya were gunna power away after Mister Ty.'
Power away she did. Sultan, sensing a rebellion, was ready to charge in an instant. Jimmy stood quite still, watching them vanish.
'Come back safely!' he yelled, not at ail sure Miss Morgan had been telling the truth.
Twenty minutes later, from a vantage poin
t, Morgan saw the small outfit riding across a gully. Only days before water had raced through there in a way no city person would have thought possible. Flash-floods in the Outback were frightening, primitive, blasting walls of water, but amazingly the water settled and the plains were covered with the millions of paper daisies that now blossomed so luminously. It was a stunning sight from the top of the rise. Almost surreal, like a glimpse of paradise. Often as she had seen the mass display of flowers, her heart lifted every time.
She could catch up the men without difficulty. No one knew Jahandra better than she did. Not even Ty. If she rode down Nightmare George—the name had come from an early explorer's experience—she could make up valuable time. In places the gorge was less than two metres wide, fringed with dense almost tropical ferns' but she never had any trouble getting through. Her rebellion was fed by two sources: her desire to get even with Ty, and her fight for her rights as she saw them.
