CHRISTINE flipped back and forth in her bed during the few hours she had of sleep. Her fragmented dreams were all of heated conversations with Mitch, in which the infatuated Amanda was standing off in the wings, striking attitudes that indicated she was totally on Mitch’s side. A psychologist would find it all too simple to analyse: she was frightened she wouldn’t be able to regain Mitch’s trust, and her fear was compounded by the possibility he might turn to Amanda for female company and support.
Finally, at dawn, she fought out of the dream sequences stuck on replay. She threw back the bedclothes, went to the adjoining bathroom and took a quick shower to wash away the cobwebs. Afterwards she put on a T-shirt, jeans and her riding boots, gathering up her cream akubra as she let herself out of her bedroom door. The carpeted hallway was still softly lit, the packed household dreaming the dawn away.
At the stables she greeted and petted the glossy-flanked Wellington, who acted as pleased to see her as she was to see him. Saddled up, she rode out, the reins easily gathered in her left hand as she stooped to open then shut a side gate. She intended heading in the direction of the chain of billabongs that flowed through the station—always her favourite ride.
It was magic this time of morning. The great silence was broken by the dawn ritual of birdsong that began with little peeps and chirrups, gradually turning into a powerful cacophony of sound, like musical instruments tuning up for the greatest orchestra on earth. There were the high, sweet strings, wonderful cello notes, resonant wood-winds, golden brass, and they all came together in a magnificent symphony that carried for miles across the open plains and into the desert.
As she rode, the indigos, pinks and golds piled up on the horizon slowly vanished and the sky took on the brilliance of blue crystal. In the distance, across the spinifex-shrouded flats that so resembled wheat, she could see a long trailing cloud of red dust that signalled the approach of a mob of Marjimba cattle.
She wondered how long a delay there would be before Mitch found a replacement for Jack Cody, who was known to be furious at his dismissal. Julanne had told her over morning tea. Cody had been sacked without a reference, but paid right up. By now he’d be back on the road, looking for another stockman’s job, although his final comment to Mitch had been, “I’ll be back!”
If it had been meant as a threat Mitch didn’t act as if he was worried.
She blushed to think she had seriously considered going down to Mitch’s room last night. The only thing that had saved her was not maidenly concern about her provocative behaviour but the fact the homestead was full of guests. Besides, she didn’t actually know what Amanda was capable of. Word was, Amanda was a man-stealer—or such was her reputation. Apparently she had stolen her best friend’s boyfriend. That had to be some sort of an indication.
Putting such thoughts out of her head, Christine rode through the radiant morning, letting the big gelding have its head in an exhilarating gallop before heading towards the nearby lagoon. There was music too in the running water, in the frilly white ripples as they ran swiftly around boulders and cascaded over rocks. She hitched the chestnut gelding to a branch, watching him bend his glistening neck to the green undergrowth, tearing at it with big strong teeth, chewing contentedly.
With a feeling of relaxation Christine moved off, following the woody trail that cut a swathe down the slope to the sand. Wattles and paper barks draped their branches overhead, some of the trees festooned with the climbing wild passion-flower.
A flight of ducks—teal and wood ducks and the scarlet-hooded, orange-breasted lotus birds, the “lily trotters”—had alighted on the emerald surface of the lagoon, floating in and out of the pink water lilies and the spears of aquatic grasses that thickly fringed the perimeter. The vivid green reeds were intermingled with tall, delicate white day lilies in flower that gave off an exquisitely sweet perfume. She breathed it in, thinking such a fragrance had never yet been matched in a bottle.
It was such a peaceful scene it released all her pressures. Sometimes the beauty of nature was almost too much for her. She remembered as a child feeling joy to the point of welling tears at all the splendour, the sound and colour around her, the sweet and aromatic scents of the bush. She understood the wilderness. It was as though she’d never been away.
The lilied stretch of shining water danced before her. The sun glinted off myriad birds’ feathers, throwing out flashes of iridescent greens, silvers and reds from neck and wing. There was an enormous concentration of water birds in her heartland, the Channel Country, a natural feature that made the vast area so compelling. The ducks were floating so smoothly the overhanging trees made clear-cut reflections in the water.
Christine sat down quietly on a weathered grey boulder, staring in silent wonder at the scene before her. Moments like this were akin to having God place a calming hand on her shoulder. Bring order to your life, Christine, for life is a miracle. She knew it. These lagoons were precious sanctuaries in the vast arid isolation, and wonderful places to gain insight.
Surely she’d had long enough to know what it took to make her happy? She’d enjoyed what often seemed to her a fantasy career, involving as it did living the so-called “good life”. But in recent times she had come to the full realization that she didn’t want to be a player. She wanted commitment. A much greater wholeness.
As a girl she had been so deeply in love with Mitch and he with her it had seemed as if they were one. They had often spoken of their sense of oneness as being like two separate streams flowing into the one river. But at some stage of her under-development—as she thought of it—she had realized their relationship mightn’t work out unless she quelled all the undercurrents that threatened and overwhelmed her young life.
Her grandmother Ruth, more than anyone, had thrown such a shadow over her. Even her mother had forever been trying to change her. There was a great deal of angst still inside her. It stirred the moment she and her mother were reunited. For all her success she was still vulnerable to her mother’s insensitive comments. She supposed she always would be. It was a fact of life that had to be accepted.
Kyall wanted her at home. The homestead was a mansion by anyone’s standards—even her super-rich friends’—and there was plenty of room for all of them without invading anyone else’s privacy. But Kyall would soon be married. Sarah would be mistress of Wunnamurra, with all that entailed. Christine couldn’t think her mother would take all that easily to the big shift in her position. The fact of the matter was that Enid, though she would have denied it with her last breath, was relishing being Numero Uno now that her own mother, Ruth, was gone.
Then there was her promise to Suzanne. Christine fully intended to live up to that. Suzanne had been dealt a rough hand, losing her parents at such an early age. It was her great hope—and she knew Kyall and Sarah felt the same—that Suzanne and Fiona would form a strong, loving relationship. McQueen blood ran in their veins.
Kyall had offered to let Christine in on the business: McQueen Enterprises. She knew, especially in view of her own portfolio, that she had a good business brain—inherited, no doubt, but she also knew there was no real future without Mitch. He held her happiness in the palm of his hand. She had forced herself to leave him once. She couldn’t leave him again. Success had proved fragile. Loving Mitch had assumed central importance in her life. She couldn’t accept she had ruined their once wonderful relationship.
She had a few loose ends to tie up before she could come home to roost. A fashion commitment in Sydney—a series of parades for a leading department store—a quick trip overseas, to say her goodbyes, then she could embark on the next, potentially the most exciting stage of her life.
“Onward, Christine!” In her enthusiasm she spoke aloud, shocked out of her reverie as a figure detached itself from the scrub. She was on her feet instantly, every muscle alert.
“Why, if it isn’t the posh Miss Reardon, talking to herself,” Jack Cody, the ex-overseer called in a slurred, sneering voice. “I hate rich, pampered women,” he muttered, half staggering down the slope.
Christine flashed her eyes, indignant. Was he drunk at this hour of the morning? “What are you doing around here, Cody?” she challenged, wondering if he were dangerous. She would know soon enough. “You were sacked a week ago.”
“Hell, I’m just takin’ my time,” he growled. “What did I do, anyway, that big-shot Claydon had to show me the door? I coulda taken care of that bloody brumby.”
“Are you nuts? The brumby would have taken care of you—or any one of us.”
“Typical female response!” Cody chortled. “Made no damn sense Claydon killed ’im.”
“It was necessary.”
“Guess you’re Claydon’s number one fan.”
“Which is none of your business. If you want real trouble you won’t attempt to intimidate me. I advise you to get on your way.”
“Problem is, you’ve seen me.”
“I wouldn’t have seen you if you hadn’t broken cover. And you’re drunk.”
“Wrong. I was drunk last night. It was pretty bloody cold, but I’m dead sober this mornin’. Anyone tell you you got the bluest eyes? Now look at you. Long hair in a braid, breasts shovin’ against that little T-shirt. I reckon you’re the best-lookin’ woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Go away, Cody.” Fury and an element of primitive fear stuck in Christine’s throat. Cody was a big man, lean and fit, but there was real evidence he was still under the effects of alcohol. If he approached her she would make a break for it.
His heavy steps grew nearer. “Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt you. Steal a kiss, maybe. I’ve always been bold with the ladies. Nothin’ ventured, et cetera et cetera…”
“Back off!” Her anger grew. “I’m Mitch Claydon’s friend, remember? We’re talking about a guy you should watch out for.”
His grimace held an unnerving amount of resentment. “So what’s Claydon gonna do? Beat me to a pulp? It’d be worth it just to have a conversation with you.” He looked her up and down in a way that made her hands clench.
“Sorry!” Her voice was cold and hard. “I’m not talking. Do what I say—back off.”
He smiled, as though he was humouring her. “Keep it together, lady. Keep cool. It looks like you’re in for that kiss. After that, no problem.”
Everything about him made her doubt that—the focus of his eyes, the stupid bombastic smile.
She moved suddenly, kicking up sand and watching it spray against his chest and face, stinging his eyes.
“Hey, you shouldn’t have done that.” He rubbed at his eyes, doing more damage, then reached out a long arm for her.
Christine pulled away violently, kicking up more sand, grimly satisfied to see it find its mark. She had a few seconds to get past him, then tear up the slope. She had never been physically frightened by a man in her life, but she was now, her heart pounding in her ribs as she ran.
Of course he followed her, bellowing that he wasn’t going to touch her. “Are you crazy? Stop—we can sort this out.”
She didn’t think so. She had seen the excitement in his eyes. A woman was vulnerable all the time, and Cody was too turned on by her for his own good. Therefore he was very dangerous.
Drunk or not, he was fast and agile. She increased her pace, stumbled twice. A low branch whipped her face but she felt no pain. Halfway up the slope he made a huge grab for her, but she turned, lashing him across the face with the open palm of her hand.
“Are you sure you want to make a fight of it?” He was loving it, exuding cocky power, his eyes peeling the clothes off her.
“You’re the one who’ll find yourself in trouble.” She was panting, sweat breaking out on her and flushing her cheeks. “I’m meeting up with Mitch. He’ll come looking.”
“You don’t expect me to believe you, do yah?” This time he clamped a strong hand to her shoulder.
His expression, unmistakably carnal, and the tone of his voice outraged her, momentarily overcoming her panic. “Stop now, Cody,” she warned, anger and revulsion ripping through her. “I’ll report this. You’ll never find work again.”
“Hey, that’s a lot to lose.” He jerked her closer, staring at her mouth. “Listen, I told yah I have the solution. One kiss. Somethin’ tells me you’re a terrific kisser. One kiss and I swear I’ll back off. That’s if you want me to. A lotta women find me attractive.”
The strange confidence in his voice nauseated her. Her whole body tensed, as though she were about to ward off a physical blow.
“Not me.”
She forced her breath to calm. She could scream her head off but no one would hear her. And as soon as she started screaming he would try to overpower her, clamping a hand across her mouth. Not that he would need to bother. The water birds, disturbed, would take to the air in great confusion, creating their own tumult of sound.
His fingers were inside her T-shirt, pulling at her bra strap. “You’re stunning, you know that? I don’t mind a bit you’re so tall.” Smilingly he bent towards her, so she could smell the stale whisky on his breath. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt yah. I think you’re gonna like it. We’ll both like it.”
Christine had resolved her actions. She brought up her knee so hard it was an explosion in his groin.
He fell back with a yell so filled with pain he might have been tortured, but Christine didn’t stop to watch him go into a huddle as he tried to cope with that pain. With an abrupt burst of speed she took off, oblivious to his moans and obscenities.
“Bitch! You’re not gonna be safe now.”
“Don’t move.” A man was standing about ten feet away from Christine, emanating such menace there might have been danger flags flapping all around him. To Christine he said, very quietly but succinctly, “Get out of here.”
Her relief was such it was excruciating. “I’m not going anywhere, Mitch. I’m too concerned about you.”
“Ain’t nuthin’,” Cody called in a hoarse, urgent voice. “Just a bit of fun.” There was no question from his demeanour that he had been thoroughly intimidated from the moment Mitch stepped out of the thicket of trees.
“The fun hasn’t started.” Mitch kept his eyes on Cody while he walked towards Christine.
“I can explain!” Cody yelled, scrambling to stand straight.
“Nothing happened, Mitch.” Christine gazed, perturbed, into Mitch’s taut face, alarmed by something in his manner. He had the look of a man about to pound Cody to pulp.
“Get on your horse, Chris, and ride away,” he ordered, without looking at her. “This is between Cody and me.”
“Dammit, the lady’s right!” Cody wheezed, still trying to cope with the pain in his groin. “I did nuthin’.”
“That’s right, you didn’t—because you didn’t have time,” Mitch said, sounding almost friendly. “Now we’ve got all the time in the world.”
Cody stared up at him, amazed to realise he was capable of being frightened. “Hold on, man! Wait one damn minute,” he appealed.
Mitch glanced at Christine with sizzling blue eyes. “I won’t say it again, Christine. Go home. This has nothing to do with you now.”
She shook her head hard. “Never! I’m not going to ride away while you’re in any sort of danger.”
For a moment he almost laughed. “You’ve been away too long, Chrissy. There’s no need for your concern, but it’s nice to know it’s there. I know how to look after myself. I also know how to take care of a guy like Cody—who, incidentally has been stealing our stock with a few of his mates. The maximum penalty for stock theft is now ten years, Cody,” he called. “Why would you be fool enough to try it on Marjimba? Obviously you haven’t been with us long enough to know I organise plenty of checks. Especially when a character like you supposedly pulls out.”
“Try to prove it.” Cody showed a flicker of bravado.
“Already have. I’ve had a stock squad officer working the station for days now. He found your portable yard, your mates and our stock. It was easy to connect up the road train. Cattle theft is costing us station owners three million a year in this state alone. What a fool you were to get yourself involved.”
Cody shook his head, held up a hand. “Weren’t substantial.”
“Substantial enough. You know what you’ve done, Cody. You’ve mucked up your life. Especially since you decided to bother Miss Reardon. We have to come together on that.”
Cody cleared his throat, his lean cheeks so sunken he looked like a stunned wolf. “Stay away from me, Claydon. Your girlfriend’s already nearly killed me with a knee in the groin. Hell, I wasn’t gonna hurt her. I just wasn’t. I don’t do rape. Just wanted to kiss her. Dammit, lady, tell him.” Cody appealed to Christine, who put her hand on Mitch’s arm, feeling the tight bunch of muscle.
“Let him go, Mitch. He’s not worth it.”
“Can’t say I can.” Mitch began to walk purposefully down the slope.
“Go on—hit me. Go ahead and do it,” Cody invited, watching Mitch’s formidable approach, almost admiring it. “I don’t give a damn.”
“No kidding?” Without wasting another minute Mitch rammed his fist into Cody’s jaw, stepping back fastidiously as Cody dropped like a stone not about to rise.
“Oh, God!” Christine moved frantically, reaching Mitch’s side within seconds. “You’re not going to hit him again?”
“Why bother? I think he’s out for the count.” His frosty eyes coolly swept her. “Do you ever do anything you’re told?”
“Hey, don’t turn on me. I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
He shot her a mocking look. “No chance of that—but since you’re here you can do something. You can get me a rope. There’s one in the Jeep. It’s back through the trees. You can’t miss it. I have to tie Cody up.”
She stooped over the prone man. “There’s blood drooling down his chin.”
“Tough beans! Are you going to get the rope?”
“You bet I am.” She started to move. “What are you going to do with him?”
“Catapult him into the creek? Hang him? I’m open to suggestions. No, I think the stock police can take him away.”
“I don’t think he would have hurt me,” she assured Mitch nervously.
“Oh, hell, no!” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Besides, I’d almost managed to get away.”
“You’re a smart woman.”
“I am. I’m fairly sure he wouldn’t have made a serious move on me.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not good enough,” said Mitch. “Because if he’d hurt you I’d have had to kill him.”
By mid-afternoon most of the guests had gone home after a sumptuous al fresco brunch. The only ones remaining were Kyall and Sarah and the Logan sisters. The Saunderses who had arrived with Kyall, had cadged a ride on an earlier flight out.
Cody’s arrest had caused a minor sensation. They had all watched him, pinned between two burly stock police and bundled into a four-wheel drive. Between them Christine and Mitch had agreed not to mention Christine’s brush with him at the lagoon—his man-handling of her or Cody’s panic-stricken reaction when Mitch had arrived.
In the big airy bedroom—the very best guest room at Marjimba Homestead—Christine double-checked the wardrobe and drawers to see she hadn’t left anything behind. She was going home with Kyall. There was no point at all in Mitch making a separate trip.
Though the Cody incident had upset her, it could have been much, much worse had Mitch not arrived. She was determined on putting it to the back of her mind. She had thoroughly enjoyed her stay on Marjimba. It had been a beautiful, liberating time. But now she had to go home to her mother, and their problematic relationship. She had so wanted to mend it, but she’d have to work harder to make it happen. Her mother was one difficult woman but Christine was determined to be cheerful in her outlook.
There was one other dark cloud on the home front. Christine was unable to forget Kyall’s shocked revelation that their father might have formed a serious relationship with a woman in the town. Though he had certainly suffered a lack of tenderness and attention from his own wife.
When a tap came at her door she went to it all smiles, expecting to see Julanne. Instead Mitch stood on the threshold. “May I come in?” he asked, his eyes licking at her sensitive flesh.
She couldn’t face him without wanting to fall into his arms. “You’d never have to force my bedroom door open, Mitch,” she answered, standing back while he walked past her, his bright aura lighting up the whole room.
“Is that so?” He turned back to study her. “That’s odd. When I made it to your door last night it was locked.”
“You’re joking?” Should she tell him of her own trembling desire to go to his bed?
“Honestly—I made it to your door, then I thought better of it.” His eyes danced wickedly.
“So you walked by? Maybe down to Amanda’s?” The surge of hope died quickly.
“Chrissy, darling, I think you’ve stretched this thing with Amanda to twanging point.” He came back to her and brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “That poor girl needs a job to occupy her mind. All she does is sit around looking pretty.” Now his fingers were in her long hair.
“It’s a wonder she doesn’t feel guilty, with her sister working so hard.”
“She doesn’t feel guilty, believe me.” Mitch’s voice was dry. He dropped his hand, though he was in a hot haze of desire all over again. “So, have you enjoyed your stay?”
“I’ve had the loveliest time!” Christine’s beautiful smile flashed. “Your mother is more of a mother to me than my own.”
“That’s sad, though I rejoice in the fact Mum has always treated you like family. Drawing on recent observations, I can’t see the troubled relationship between you and your mother changing.” He sank into a chair, thinking how immaculately groomed she always was.
“Lord knows I want it to.”
“Sometimes wanting can’t make it so. That’s the way life is.”
“I think she loves me in her own way.” Christine’s expression was soft and vulnerable, sweeping him back years, to when she had been so desperate for approval.
“One would hope so.” He spoke quietly but bitterly. It amazed and angered him, the scars left on Christine. “So, how long are you going to stay around?”
She sat down on the side of the bed, facing him. “I have a commitment to do a series of fashion parades in Sydney in a couple of weeks’ time. And I want to catch up with Suzanne while I’m there. She needs some tender loving care. Then I have to tie up a few loose ends.”
“Like Ben Savage?” He cursed himself when it came out so hard-edged.
“What’s Ben got to do with it?” she asked in surprise.
“You tell me.” His eyes had darkened to turquoise, a sure sign he was disturbed.
“You sound like you’re expecting some announcement?” Challenge was passing from one to the other, hot and swift.
“Isn’t he coming to Australia? I heard he was going to be in Sydney while you’re there?”
“Most probably he will be,” she agreed, breathing deeply to keep her equilibrium.
“So you knew about it?”
“What is this? The third degree? I know Ben’s doing a trip to publicize his show. He’s very popular in Australia. Your own mother watches the show.”
“I wouldn’t say she’s an addict.” He pushed his hands behind his head. “At least I hope she isn’t. It’s pretty damned silly.”
“So you watch it?” she asked sweetly. “That’s fabulous!”
“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not that pleasure-deprived. Ben, according to the tabloids, is always trying to find true love. I thought it was with you?”
She suppressed the urge to snap. “Ben is a nice guy. You’d like him.”
“Not if you were his wife,” he clipped. “Or even his girlfriend.”
“I’m an ex-girlfriend.”
“Does he know the difference?” Mitch watched her eyes. “Didn’t he say somewhere his love for you just wouldn’t die?”
Christine grimaced. “I think that’s one of the recurring lines in his scripts.”
Restlessly Mitch stood up, walking to the open French doors and staring out at the sunlit garden. “Does he do drugs?”
Christine’s lustrous dark head shot up. “Why ever do you ask that? Not everyone in the business does. Ben’s too damned smart.”
“But you know a lot of people who do?”
“Of course. Let’s face it.”
“And you’ve never been tempted?”
“Listen, I’ve damned well told you I haven’t. I wouldn’t have thought I’d have to tell you again. Surely you know that much about me?” Precipitately Christine stood up, wondering if someone might have been trying to trash her reputation. “What is this all about, Mitch?”
“Is that a no?” Mitch asked.
“Go to hell!” She felt her temper snap. “I thought we’d had this discussion. Obviously someone’s been talking to you, haven’t they? Some mutual friend who wanted to share a scandalous secret?”
“Celebrities do get talked about.”
“Was it dear Amanda by any chance?” she queried, her eyes stormy. “I wouldn’t put it past her. So what did she say? She read some place that Christine Reardon admits to having fun with designer drugs?”
“Something like that.” He shrugged.
“And you believed it?” She was so hurt and angry she felt like taking a swing at him.
“Actually, I didn’t. I know quite a lot about you, Chrissy. You’ve always had character.”
“So why are you trying to get me riled up?” she asked in amazement.
“Just checking.”
Her expression went from surprise to disgust. “Oh, thank you.”
“I didn’t intend to insult you. Forgive me if I have. I hadn’t realized Amanda was quite so dangerous.”
“Perhaps you should take a closer look at her when she’s not wearing her flirty red dress. Obviously she believes all’s fair in love and war. That was a vicious lie. I think I’ll have a few words with her.”
“I think you should. That’s why I told you. So, this is goodbye for a while?” He came towards her, his gaze so intense she swallowed.
“God, Mitch, I hope not. My holiday isn’t over.”
“You’ll be flying away from me for the rest of your life.”
“Is it so hard for you to accept I’m at a turning point in my life, Mitch?” She looked up with appeal in her eyes.
“So am I!” he answered with quiet force. “It usually happens around thirty.”
“Hey, I’m twenty-eight.” She tried to lighten him up.
“And I’ve never seen anyone look more fabulous. But let’s get this straight. Are you asking me to consider the possibility you’re coming home for good rather than living your dream?” He sent the expression up, and did it very well.
“Why so sarcastic?”
He stared into her beautiful eyes. “There’s a good deal of pain around the whole issue, Chrissy. What do you say I come visit when you’re in Sydney? A little house-call?”
She was overwhelmed, his blue gaze bathing her in simmering heat. “Are you serious? Could you get away?”
“I think so.” He could have said that if he thought there was a chance of resuming their old relationship he’d travel to the ends of the earth, but he didn’t. He was endlessly on guard. “I still care, Chrissy, but the trouble is I can’t trust your good intentions.”
That brought her back to earth with a jolt. “You might if you stopped talking about the past. I’m looking to the future.”
“With me in it?” A cynical smile played about his mouth.
“Of course.” She sighed heavily. “I care about you too, Mitch. That’s why I’m not at all happy with your talking about me behind my back.”
He laughed. “So you think I should have slugged Amanda like I slugged Cody? I don’t hit women.”
“I forgot. You kiss them.” All of a sudden she thought briefly, furiously, of the number of women he had probably kissed. And he was a great kisser.
“I’m about to kiss you.” He reached out and caught her wrist, the little callused pads on his fingers sending quivers along her skin.
“Make it deep and passionate so I can remember it.”
“I will. Don’t worry.” In one breathtaking sweep he gathered her in with one arm, lowering his mouth over hers. “I want it all,” he murmured. “I want everything about you.”
She could have fainted away, her level of excitement was so great. She could feel the sweet heaviness in her breasts, at the pit of her stomach. She reached up her arms to clasp them behind his neck, wanting more of his mouth, more of his tongue, of the warm, lean, hard body that held her so tightly.
She was all yearning, desire swirling in her blood like a flash flood. She could feel his hands running down over her body as though he wanted to tear her clothes from her. She didn’t care. She was encouraging him with funny little whimpers she didn’t recognise as her own.
“Oh, Mitch, darling!” That cry of hers was full of longing.
His mouth was dragging down over her face, across her hot cheeks to her pulsing lips. He was breathing something into her mouth she couldn’t quite hear because there was such a tumult in her. Endearments?
“I want everything.”
Their kisses and caresses intensified, her fingers and nails kneading his taut flesh. Where was this going? Another minute and they’d be on the bed. Wasn’t that what she wanted more than anything in the world?
Want and nothing more! The longing alone was excruciating.
She was all tousled hair, scarlet-cheeked, panting, her shirt swinging open from the slow sliding of his hands over her breasts, when a knock on the door shocked them back to reality.
“Oh, God, I don’t believe this!”
“Steady, steady…” he cautioned.
Frantically she set about buttoning up her shirt. There was no time to tuck it in. She had to let it hang loose.
Mitch ran a ruthless hand through his golden locks. “Looks like the only way I can have you is to take you out bush.”
“Don’t think I won’t come,” she promised, a wry little smile about her mouth. “Hang on!” she called, as the knock came a second time. “Do I look all right?” she appealed to Mitch, her face flushed and filled with heart-wrenching excitement.
“Thoroughly kissed, but that’s fine.” That was the way to handle Chris. Kiss her senseless. “It’s probably Mum.”
It was. Julanne, smiling a little uncertainly, stood outside the door. She took one look at Christine’s radiant rosy face, then glanced beyond her to her son. “What’s life without romance?” She smiled with emphasis and warmth.
“Speaking for myself, no fun at all,” Mitch moved with indolent grace to where his mother was standing. He patted her gently on the cheek. “I was just telling Chris how much we’ve enjoyed her stay.”
“Indeed we have.” Julanne looked from one to the other. “There will be other times, surely, before you have to go back to Sydney, Chris?”
“There was talk of a fundraiser for the hospital,” she said, turning to snap her last piece of luggage shut and regain her composure at the same time. “Sarah came up with the idea of a polo match-picnic. It will be held on Wunnamurra.” Another excuse to see Mitch.
“Kyall hasn’t said a word about it.”
“It’s not finalised yet.” She turned back to him brightly. “But he will. You’re his best player.”
“No better than Kyall. Then we’ll get to see you again pretty soon?”
She was aware she blushed. “I’ll make sure of it.”
There was no time for Christine to have a private word with Amanda until they landed on Wybourne Station, fifty miles as the crow flies to the south-east of Marjimba.
No one was around to meet them. The whole place had a look of quiet desolation, though Christine knew from experience there were numerous beauty spots across the large sheep and cattle station. An open Jeep was parked in the shade of the empty hangar and Kyall, flanked by Sarah and Shelley, walked towards it to see if the keys were in the ignition. It was years now, Christine had learned, since Patrick Logan had been forced to sell his Cessna.
“I really did think Dad would be down here to meet us,” Amanda said crossly, shading her eyes. “He hardly does anything for us any more.”
“He hasn’t had any treatment for his condition all this time?” Christine asked in a kindly, concerned voice.
“What condition?” Amanda jerked back as though bitten by a death adder.
“I’m sorry, but there can’t be a more terrible thing than to lose one’s child,” Christine apologized. “Little Sean was so loved, depression must have settled over your parents.”
“And there’s a cure for depression?” Amanda asked in a bitter, resentful tone. “It’s been years now, not yesterday. Other people rebuild their lives. Mum and Dad simply turned off the engines.”
Christine studied the young woman in front of her with a measure of dismay. “How terribly sad, Amanda. But there are anti-depressant medicines, counselling, methods for survival. You must help your parents do something about it. At some stage in our lives all of us are going to need help.”
“Dad won’t take any help from anyone,” Amanda said in a surprisingly hard tone. “Mum sees Sarah from time to time. I grieved myself, though I was only small, but no one worries about me.”
“I’m sure they do,” Christine assured her. “But, as you said yourself, you were young, Amanda. A child in development. You had time to work it through. I’m talking about your parents. And Shelley. Everyone says she works so hard.”
Amanda frowned, as though she wasn’t at all sure about that. “Everyone is very concerned about my sister and how she copes with all the pressures. I say it gives her a chance to make up for what she did.”
Christine felt herself recoil in shock. She stared into Amanda’s pretty face, chilled and disbelieving. These were sisters. She would have loved a sister. “What she did?” she echoed. “It could have been you, Amanda, who walked away and left the twins unattended.”
Amanda turned on her fiercely, powerfully outraged. “That’s not true!”
“You’re too ready to blame your sister.” Christine had heard the crack of jealousy in Amanda’s tone. “She’s had to shoulder the burden of guilt for most of her life.”
“Have you considered she deserves it?” Amanda stood her ground, terrible memories stirred up.
Christine felt herself swallow hard. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“She pushed him in. Saved herself.” Amanda’s eyes flashed, seemingly without compassion.
“Or you were there, perhaps, too late?”
For a moment Amanda’s expression went absolutely blank. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me,” she said finally. “Shel was always getting into trouble for being naughty. She was hyper-active, just like she is today.”
“I’ve heard she’s making quite a success of the tourist scheme,” Christine pointed out loyally.
“Do you really think she doesn’t have help? I do all I can. I may not roll my sleeves up and get dirty, but I have talents Shel doesn’t possess. Anyway, I really don’t want to talk about this, Christine. I don’t even know where you’re coming from. You’re a stranger these days. It’s our tragedy, not yours.”
“Then you shouldn’t spend so much time keeping it alive,” Christine responded without hesitation. “By the way I’m not standing here in the hot sun talking to you for nothing.”
“No, you’re being deliberately offensive.” Anger beat in waves around Amanda.
“I am, in fact, being quite restrained. I have a bone to pick with you, Amanda.”
“I’m sure I can deal with it,” Amanda snapped.
“You’d be a fool if you didn’t. You told Mitch you’d read an article about me in which I admitted to having been a drug-user?”
Amanda’s full lips parted, but for a few telling seconds no sound came out. “Mitch told you?” she croaked discordantly.
“Indeed he did. Mitch and I are very close. We have been since childhood.”
“That’s interesting!” Amanda’s expression sharpened. “Because Mitch told me he hadn’t thought of you in years. You chose your course. You were out of his life. Did he tell you that?”
“Amanda, I don’t believe Mitch said that at all. You’re just trying to make trouble. It could be one of your flaws.”
Amanda stared back as though mesmerized. “Hey, why are you attacking me in this way?”
“Think of it as my defending my reputation.” Christine continued to stare into Amanda’s eyes, refusing to allow her gaze to slide away. “You can’t lie about me and get away with it. I’ll take action. I might have a word with your parents if I have to.”
“You wouldn’t.” Amanda lost some of her high colour.
“Try me. I’m going to ask Sarah to keep her ears open for any ugly little rumours circulating regarding me or my lifestyle. I hope I make myself clear?”
It was obvious Amanda hadn’t been prepared for this particular confrontation. “I can’t see why you’re adopting this attitude,” she said, suddenly drawing on tears from her arsenal. “I thought I read it. I apologize unreservedly if I got it wrong.”
Always the liar. “Just stick to the truth, Amanda. That’s good advice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have a word with Shelley.”
“Our little work freak!” Amanda laughed scornfully. “I hope you’re as unpleasant to her as you’ve been to me.”
Christine regarded the other woman without expression. “With a sister like you she doesn’t need anyone else to offer unkindness.” Turning her back, Christine walked away.