by Valerie Parv
He gave a satisfied nod. ‘Much better.’
‘Now will you let me go?’
‘When I’m ready.’ Without releasing her hands, he bent his head and pressed a kiss against her lightly parted lips. Desire knifed through the deepest realms of her being as his chest hair grazed her skin where the buttons of her shirt gaped open from the doctor’s ministrations. Before she could react to the kiss, he straightened and freed her hands. ‘Now I’m ready.’
‘Why did you do that?’
He shrugged. ‘Despite what you wrote in your column, I make no claim to sainthood. If you could see how you looked just now, you’d know why.’
Before she could summon an answer he turned away, his stockman’s boots clicking on the polished wooden floor as he slammed out of the room.
For a long time she lay unmoving, her hands clasped over her head, her thoughts in turmoil. Was he trying to remind her of her place? He made no secret of wanting her, yet he had no intention of giving in to it. Was his kiss meant to demonstrate the strength of his resistance to her?
‘Damn, damn, damn,’ she muttered. Why couldn’t she be as blase about this as he was? Why did she have to ache for his touch with every fibre of her being?
She should be scrubbing his kiss off her lips in disgust. Instead, she savoured the taste of him like a teenage fan who’d been brushed by her favourite pop star. ‘A Bryan groupie, that’s what you are,’ she told herself in annoyance.
Well, it would have to stop. She had no choice about remaining here until the doctor cleared her to travel, but she could choose how she responded to Bryan’s presence. At least she hoped she could.
Worn out by her ordeal and the effort of jousting with Bryan, she slept heavily, not stirring until well into the evening when Christa came in with a tray.
‘Good, you’re awake,’ she said. ‘Bryan gave orders not to disturb you until you woke of your own accord.’
Feeling like a fraud, Jill sat up so the other woman could settle a tray across her knees. She hadn’t realised she was hungry until the aroma of cheese omelette and herbed vegetables teased her appetite into life. ‘You shouldn’t wait on me; you have enough to do,’ she said apologetically.
Christa sniffed. ‘True enough, but Bryan has other ideas. I must admit, this was a clever move.’
With a forkful of omelette poised in mid-air, Jill froze. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You must have realised he’s a sucker for anything lame. Nothing else could have gotten him on your side so effectively.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Jill denied, shocked by Christa’s reasoning. ‘I really am on leave because of the virus. Today’s reaction wasn’t part of any scheme.’
Scepticism clouded Christa’s features. ‘Have it your way, but you may as well accept that Bryan and I have an understanding. This isn’t going to change anything.’
‘I know. He told me.’
The frank admission caught Christa by surprise. ‘He did? Then…you really are ill?’
‘Yes, so you can stop worrying about me. Bryan’s incredibly loyal.’ And besides, he hates me, she added inwardly.
Red tinged Christa’s cheeks, but Jill couldn’t decide whether it was with embarrassment at her mistake, or with a lover’s pride. ‘He is, isn’t he? When he promised my father we’d make a match of it, I knew he’d never go back on his word.’
‘Until I came along.’ Guilt suffused Jill as she thought of her own longing to feel his arms around her.
Christa twisted a tea-towel between her hands. ‘I could see he was attracted to you. I should have had more faith in him, shouldn’t I?’
‘Maybe now you will.’
Christa moved away. At the door she turned, her manner hesitant. ‘He will come to love me, you know, even though he’s marrying me because he owes my father such a lot.’
Jill was at a loss. She had assumed as much, but was astonished to hear Christa spell it out. ‘Your father must be a remarkable man to inspire such devotion,’ she dissembled.
Christa’s face fell. ‘He was, once. Since his stroke, he’s a shadow of his old self. I think he’s only clinging to life to see Bryan and me married.’
A hissing breath escaped Jill’s lips. So Christa’s father was dying. No wonder Bryan felt bound to her. He was too much a man of honour to break a promise, especially to a man who had done so much for him and now wanted only one thing in return before he died.
A sense of hopelessness overtook her and she pushed the tray away, the food barely touched. ‘I’ve had enough, thank you.’
Christa heard her defeated whisper and removed the tray. ‘I thought you might. Pleasant dreams now.’
Her dreams would be anything but pleasant, and Christa probably knew it. Morning seemed like an eternity away.
For the next two days, Jill discovered what it was like to be well and truly pampered. Perhaps as a result of their discussion, Christa looked after her with good grace, plying her with magnificent meals and waiting on her hand and foot.
‘You’re spoiling me,’ she protested. ‘I don’t need morning and afternoon tea as well as lunch. I’ll end up as big as a house.’
‘I’ll bet when you’re at home you live on those frozen diet meals,’ Christa said.
It was close to the truth. ‘In that case, I’ll enjoy this while it lasts,’ she said, helping herself to a scone, still warm from the oven.
Christa pulled a chair up beside her on the veranda and poured herself a cup of tea. ‘Bryan’s gone to visit Dad and he’ll probably stay for dinner, so I can take it easy this afternoon.’
Jill had felt his absence as acutely as she felt his presence these days, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Now that she and Christa had reached an understanding it was pointless to stir up more trouble.
She flicked crumbs off the rug draped over her legs. ‘When are you off to your friend’s wedding?’
‘Tomorrow. I’ll be back in a couple of days.’
‘Perhaps I should go with you.’
‘Bryan won’t hear of it until the doctor clears you to travel,’ Christa confided.
Jill knew why. He wanted her to complete her assignment without further mishap. All the same, a slight glow of satisfaction crept over Jill. She was foolishly pleased that he had vetoed her departure. For all the good it would do her, she thought in annoyance. Daydreaming was becoming a bad habit lately, especially since most of her fantasies revolved around a certain unattainable man.
Christa looked pensive as she stirred sugar into her tea. ‘Is there anyone you’d like me to contact for you while I’m in Perth?’
Jill shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no. I’ve written to my parents to let them know where I am, and I’ll telephone Nick and Denise again later. There’s no one else.’
There was a sudden flare of interest in Christa’s eyes. ‘Not even David Hockey?’
Jill’s head snapped up. How did Christa know about David, unless Bryan had confided in her? Annoyance bristled through her. How dared he discuss her personal life with Christa? ‘What makes you think he’d be interested in my welfare?’ she asked, her tone brittle.
Some of the other woman’s saccharine warmth vanished abruptly. ‘There’s no need to play coy, Jill. I know you and he were an item. I suppose you thought you’d be better off finding yourself a wealthy grazier.’
Jill sucked in a sharp breath. Was Christa relaying what Bryan himself believed? ‘I didn’t want to find anyone,’ she denied furiously. ‘As it happens, David is married.’
Christa’s eyes flew wide. ‘Really? Your journalistic sources did let you down, didn’t they?’
‘In David’s case, yes, although I wasn’t exactly thinking along those lines when I met him.’
‘How romantic. Was it love at first sight?’
Thinking of her reactions around Bryan, Jill doubted if love was the right word for what she’d felt about David. She’d never felt the throbbing need to touch and be touched by him, nor ached to feel his arms aroun
d her, his mouth fiery against hers. Nor had he ignited her temper to the same degree that Bryan did.
‘It was probably more interest at first sight,’ she answered Christa’s question belatedly. ‘We were covering the same story and went for coffee afterwards. It grew from there.’
Christa sighed deeply. ‘What fascinating circles you move in. I feel like a real country mouse by comparison, although I’m sure Bryan prefers not to have to compete for my attention.’
There was no answer to this, since Bryan had made his feelings quite clear. Draining her cup, Christa stood up. ‘I’d better finish packing. You can use the library if you want to telephone your family.’
Reminded of Christa’s place as mistress of the house, Jill suppressed a surge of resentment. What else did she expect? That Bryan would keep her confidences about David to himself? She was furious that he had shared them with Christa. How else would she have come by the information?
Denise’s voice on the phone was a welcome diversion. Her sister-in-law had wanted to come and take care of Jill until she managed to talk her out of it.
‘You must think of the baby,’ she urged. Reluctantly Denise had agreed, but only on condition that Jill kept her posted about her recovery, especially hearing that Christa was to be away as well.
‘Don’t worry, I can take care of myself,’ Jill assured her.
Her words were to prove prophetic. While Christa was away, she saw Bryan only first thing in the morning before he drove out to one or other of his properties, and last thing at night when he bade her a terse goodnight as he barricaded himself in his study. She might as well have been alone in the house.
On the day before Christa’s expected return he went to see Bill Bernard, telling Jill to expect him back some time in the afternoon.
‘Don’t do me any favours,’ she muttered mutinously as he left. The day stretched emptily ahead.
Without conscious thought, she found herself in the library, poring over old records of the Bowana stock route. Reaching for a pen, she began to make notes, and was soon completely absorbed.
Lunchtime came and went. It was only when the library door slammed open that she looked up, startled to find Bryan framed there, his expression grim. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
He looked as if she’d been caught stealing the family silver. ‘I was bored, so I decided to do a little research.’
In two strides he reached the desk and lifted the heavy book from her hands, closing it with a small explosion of sound so she jumped. ‘Against the doctor’s explicit orders,’ he reminded her. ‘Don’t you ever do anything you’re told to do?’
She stood up quickly, which was a mistake as her head began to swim. Instantly his hands clamped over her upper arms, steadying her. A jolt like a thunderbolt passed through her. ‘It depends on who’s doing the telling,’ she said shakily.
His heavy-lidded gaze bored into her relentlessly. ‘Obedience can be taught, Jill.’
Defiance brought her chin up, to be instantly regretted as she encountered his intense scrutiny. She wished now she’d taken time to have some lunch; then she wouldn’t have this light-headed sensation, as if she were floating in his hold. ‘Obedience implies a master, and I have no need of any such thing,’ she denied.
His eyes became hooded and a faint flush seared his skin, probably from his tightly leashed anger with her. To her consternation, he freed one hand long enough to graze the side of her face with his knuckles. ‘There’s more than one kind of mastery,’ he reminded her.
How could she deny a truth she recognised in her soul, even if her spirit didn’t want to know it? ‘No,’ she whispered, closing her eyes against the torment of his nearness.
‘No?’ The question came out lazily taunting. To prove his point, he traced a finger down the side of her face, all the way across her collarbone and down to the cleft between her breasts. Under his fingers, her heart raced a frantic tattoo which must tell him how invasive she found his touch. He was waiting for her to beg him to stop, but she swallowed the words, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her surrender.
It took every ounce of control she possessed to endure his mouth wandering over the sensitive skin of her throat without crying out—not to have him stop, but to go on and on to the ultimate conclusion.
Without conscious awareness, she had thrust her head back, closing her eyes and parting her lips instinctively, so that when he kissed her her senses reeled and she had to cling to him to remain on her feet. As her nails dug into his back, she told herself it was for support, not in response to the maddening onslaught of his kisses.
He was proving his point far more effectively than even he knew, she realised. This was no more than a demonstration of his mastery over her actions. He couldn’t know that he was also taking control of her very soul.
Angry resentment curled through her and she tried to push him away, her fingers sliding uselessly over the hard muscular structure of his shoulders. She wasn’t going to be manipulated by him. She had been the pawn of one married man already. She wasn’t about to dance to Bryan’s tune, however sweetly seductive the music, knowing he was promised to Christa.
When he lifted his head, his eyes were coolly appraising. ‘As I said, obedience can be taught.’
Twisting in his grasp, she shook her head. ‘Not by you. You’ll never control me.’
His laughter mocked her as he traced the bruised line of her lips with one taunting finger. ‘Brave words, considering that I just did.’
The telephone shrilled, drowning out the denial she recognised as bravado. With a lingering look at her, he went to answer it. As she tried to leave, his hand clamped around her wrist, forcing her to stand beside him impotently as he chatted easily with a caller who could only be Christa. Hanging up, he confirmed it, adding that the other woman would be returning the next day. ‘She has a surprise for you,’ he said.
Another shock? Jill wondered. It could hardly compare with the one she’d just received at Bryan’s hands.
CHAPTER TEN
FOR the next twenty-four hours Jill was careful to act the role of model patient, giving Bryan no excuse to demonstrate his mastery over her further.
She was almost grateful for Christa’s return as a buffer between herself and Bryan. She had forgotten about Christa’s promised surprise.
Christa looked lovely, with a new hairstyle and smart new trouser-suit. She was bubbling over with excitement as she dumped her suitcase in the hall and threw herself into Bryan’s arms. A savage sensation erupted through Jill at the sight, but she kept her face impassive as Christa looked expectantly towards the door.
Around it stepped a tall, fair-haired man, and Jill felt her knees start to buckle. With an effort, she steadied herself, aware of Bryan’s gimlet gaze on her. All the same, she felt herself go white with shock. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere she could go. She was trapped. ‘David,’ she murmured weakly.
He seemed impervious to the tension holding her in thrall. ‘Hello, Jill. Christa brought me your message. I had to come.’
Hearing Bryan’s sharply indrawn breath, Jill wanted to cry out that it was a lie, she’d sent no such message. But Christa linked her arm in Bryan’s. ‘Let’s leave these two alone. I have so much I want to tell you.’
‘Bryan, wait.’
He brushed aside the hand Jill placed on his arm and strode out of the hall without a backward glance, leaving Christa to follow hurriedly in his wake.
Tiredly Jill turned to David. ‘I didn’t send any message, David, and I think you know it.’
He gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Maybe I did suspect your friend Christa of stretching the truth a little. But I really was concerned about you.’
‘Especially after she told you about the Turuga crater,’ she hazarded. The David Hockey she knew, pity help her, wouldn’t come all this way out of concern for her, unless there was something in it for him as well.
He spread his fingers apart at shoulder height.
‘You have to admit, it’s a potentially interesting story.’
She sighed heavily, still in shock at his unexpected arrival. ‘It’s a good story,’ she conceded. ‘And these people really need the tourist interest it could generate.’
‘It’s as good as done. Now how about a decent welcome? It is good to see you again.’
‘Oh, David, it would be great if you can help the town, but it’s too late for us, no matter what Christa told you.’
‘Are you quite sure, Jill?’
If she’d had any doubts when they parted, she was sure now. Being held in Bryan’s arms was all it had taken to convince her there was no other man in the world for her. ‘I’m certain,’ she said, her voice cracking a little.
‘If you change your mind…’
‘I won’t,’ she said with heavy finality.
‘Then I’ll have to concentrate on the story, won’t I?’ His voice lifted a little, and she knew that he was already shrugging off any residual pain much more easily than she had been able to do. He went on to tell her about a glossy magazine which had jumped at the chance to ‘discover’ the crater. He was officially in town on assignment for them. ‘So you see, I didn’t waste any time getting my white knight act together. Surely I deserve some thanks for that, if only for old times’ sake.’
‘Very well, I am grateful,’ she acknowledged.
‘Grateful enough for a hug, as a friend?’ he added hastily, opening his arms in invitation. When she hesitated, he pulled her into them and brushed her hairline with his lips. He stopped when he felt her stiffen in rejection. ‘Hey, it was only a friendly hug.’
‘I know, but—’
Before she could free herself, Bryan chose that moment to come back into the house. His face was set as he caught sight of her in David’s arms. She pulled herself free and began to describe David’s plans to publicise the town.
Bryan’s eyes probed her with frighteningly cold disdain. ‘Congratulations, you’ve achieved your aim.’ There was no warmth in the admission.
Bewilderment blurred her vision. ‘My aim? I thought it’s what you wanted.’
