She felt a shock of surprise when Steve sat up and looked at her quizzically and remarked, `And then there's Ellis, of course. But you're the one who did get her own way, aren't you, my little moonbird?'
Her eyes fell from his. She drew a circle on the sand. `I—I don't know what you mean.'
`Oh, surely you do ! You threatened to walk out on
me, didn't you? And I gave in. I installed you as shearers' cook—you're having it all just the way you want it. Are you satisfied?'
She stared at him, her pale face suffusing with colour. Something in the way he was looking at her unnerved her completely.
`Well, are you?' he repeated.
She didn't answer, but bit her lip and looked down at the sand. Unexpectedly, he reached out and knocked her off balance. There was a brief struggle and then she was lying against him on the sand. One arm held her pinioned to him and she could feel his bare thighs against her own. She pulled her head back and tried to jerk herself free of him, but it was a futile effort. His eyes were looking into hers and she could' see the salt on his thick dark lashes, drawing them info points. There were tiny flecks of gold in the green of his eyes and she gazed and gazed, feeling herself being sub-merged.
Submerged in every way. A feeling of sensual warmth was spreading right through her, from her lips to her thighs. She knew she hadn't been satisfied when she got what she wanted. She'd hated it. And at this moment she realised it to the full. This was what she wanted—to be here, held against him intimately, in a place that was so secluded it seemed no one else existed. His thighs were against hers and his flat muscular belly pressed against her own, and his eyes looked deeply into hers. His lips were curving sensually now, as if they were on the point of taking her own. Ellis hungered for the touch of his lips—she'd forgotten what his kiss was like. She could feel her heart pounding and she was aware that one of her shoulder straps had slipped and that the V of her neckline had widened
to reveal more of her breast than was decent, but she didn't care.
Steve's mouth covered hers briefly, passionately, then moved to her shoulder and she felt the warmth of his lips, and the hardness of his teeth against her flesh. She was melting—she was slipping into an ecstatic oblivion—when suddenly she thought of Jan, and pushed against him with all her strength.
He sat up abruptly, away from her, and she turned her own tormented body in against the sand, closing her eyes and moaning silently. She hated herself for wanting to be in his arms. She meant absolutely nothing to him—she was just another woman.
`Don't tell me I've broken my promise,' he said, his voice uneven. 'You knew this would happen when you came, didn't you?' She felt his arm come across her back and his fingers dig into her upper arm as he tried to pull her over to face him, but she resisted, pressing her face and her bosom into the warm dry sand.
`Come on, Ellis—come back to me. Isn't it what you want?'
`No,' she said, and added violently, 'Don't touch me ! '
His hand was withdrawn and when he spoke again his voice was frigidly accusing.
`Does this sort of thing amuse you, then, you cruel little bitch?'
She flinched at his tone. He certainly knew how to turn everything inside out, and it confused her utterly. He was blaming her for this now, when his was the impulse that had started it, his the force that had brought her into his arms.
`Not as much as it amuses you,' she said, her voice low. 'You—you have a low opinion of women, haven't you, Steve Gascoyne?'
`Perhaps,' he said.
`Of me,' she insisted. She sat up, but felt unable just now to look him in the eye.
`Don't take it that way—don't let's make it personal,' he said roughly. 'I'm not using you as an object to relieve my carnal appetite, if that's what your hinting at, Ellis. I know I've acted like a savage, but you're at least half to blame. I've offered you a ring, haven't I? And asked you not once but several times to marry me. God knows I don't like this relationship of boss–employee you seem intent on inflicting on us. I don't get what I need out of having you mess around baking cakes for me, either. It's in my bed I want you, not in my kitchen.'
`You wanted Jan in your bed,' she accused, and as she said it she reflected that he'd probably had Jan in his bed anyhow. 'You—you asked her to marry you--you can—you can still have her. She and Paul aren't engaged—Martin told me so the other day.'
There was silence for several secodds, then she turned her head and saw Steve was looking at her with eyes that smouldered speculatively.
`So that's what you were finding out in Whitemark the other day, is it? Well, it's great news. All our tears in vain—yours and mine. But if you're making plans for me, don't bother. I won't be stepping down. I'm not built that way—it goes against the grain, as you should know by now.' He got up and stood towering over her, tall and broad and masculine. 'Well, are you coming in for another swim? I know I need to cool off.'
Ellis lowered her head. She felt bruised, hurt, through all her physical being. She didn't know how he could talk about swimming, cooling off, when he must know she was in a turmoil with everything up in the air—unresolved.
Her voice trembling, she told him, 'I'm going to sunbathe.'
`All right.'
She watched him stride away, then plunge into the unbearably beautiful sea, and she lay down and pressed her cheek against the sand and felt tears squeeze between her lids. How hopeless and idiotic to fall in love with a man who had no real feelings !
Because that was exactly what she had done ...
She sunbathed and dozed uneasily for the remainder of the afternoon, and it was only with an effort that she stirred herself when Steve came and flicked water on her and told her roughly, 'Come on—up ! Get dressed and we'll be on our way.'
She rolled on to her side and lay staring at him, more than half expecting him to reach down and pull her to her feet—and into his arms. But he simply stood, hands on his lean hips, looking down at her enigmatically.
`What's the matter? Do you want a helping hand?' he asked, his eyes glinting.
So he was waiting for her to make the first gesture ,—and if she did, and if she landed in his arms, it would be at least half her fault. And if she pulled away he'd call her a cruel little bitch.
`If you're waiting for me to manhandle you,' he said with a sort of controlled savageness, 'you're waiting in vain. I'm sorely tempted to force you to surrender to me, but I'm not going to do it. When shearing's over —and you're committed to me till then, don't forget—we'll take stock, and you can disappear back to Melbourne. If that's what you want.'
Her heart thudded. If wasn't what she wanted—not remotely. But it was what she'd have to do. She couldn't accept him on his terms, without love.
She scrambled to her feet with a sudden movement and ran down to the sea. The water was cold against her languid sun-warmed body, the sun was going down, and though she struck out and swam vigorously, she soon began to shiver and to feel icy right through to her bones. In her heart she longed to have Steve come into the water to get her. She wanted him to hold her close in the salty sea, to taste his lips warm and sweet on her mouth. She wanted the slipperiness of his wet body against hers—she wanted him to say he loved her. She wanted to—to die in his arms.
She swallowed on a sob. The terrible thing was that he didn't even believe in love—and he saw marriage as a game of make
believe, nothing more.
She managed to regain control of herself at last, but she was still cold as she left the water, blinking the salt and the tears from her eyes, and feeling her hair cling stickily to her head. The white beach was empty and for a mad moment she thought he'd driven off and left her. But the car was still in the shade of the-trees.
She found her clothes behind the rocks where she had left them and peeled her sodden swimsuit from her shivering body, then rubbed herself dry with her towel. It wasn't a beach towel, it was one she'd brought from the homestead, and it was soft and delicately plushy on one side, rough and stimulating on the other. She dried herself on the rough side, then draped it round her shoulders, velvet side against her skin, while she pulled on her panties and her white cotton jeans. She'd picked up her bra when she heard Steve coming, and in a panic she pulled her shirt over her head, wrapped her bra in the towel, then stepped out from the shelter of the rocks, to find herself caught in a cool evening wind that blew straight in off the sea, and set her shivering again.
Steve was waiting for her.
`Come on, come on,' he said testily, and she snapped back,
`What's the hurry? Have you got a date? Or—or can't you wait to get rid of me ?'
His eyes raked over her and she felt her nipples harden with cold, so that they pressed against her clinging shirt.
`Unless you're intent on being provocative,' he said, his eyes obviously missing nothing, 'you should have put on your bra.'
She didn't answer, but she burned with shame and anger.
The minute they reached home, she ran upstairs to her room. She wished she could disappear tomorrow, but she couldn't. She'd agreed to look after the shearers, and she'd do it. She wondered wretchedly how she and Steve could possibly resume their boss–employee relationship after today. But with Steve, as she had already learned, anything was possible. It was different for him, anyhow. His emotions weren't involved. While he might be caught up by his passions once in a while, they were purely physical. They left no painful aftermath of unsated hungry emotions such as she was experiencing now; that was plain.
When she went downstairs the meal was ready and the table laid. Charlie had caught several flounder which he'd cooked, and he had opened a bottle of white wine. Ellis accepted a glass as she sat down at the table.
`Did you see Martin, Charlie?' she asked brightly as they started on their dinner. The lights were low and for this she was thankful as she had the nervy feeling that the events of the afternoon were written on her face like a musical score, and she didn't know who she wanted to hide it from most—Charlie or Steve.
`Sure I saw him,' said Charlie, helping himself to salad. 'He was disappointed you didn't come.'
`What did you tell him?' she asked after a second.
`I said Steve had taken you swimming. He seemed to have the idea you were working here.' He grimaced –suddenly and added ruefully, 'I suppose you are too—like a trojan ! Leanne told me Martin's your cousin.'
`Yes. I've lived with the Websters since I was about fourteen. My parents -died in a boating accident when I was eleven, and my father's best friend, Jake Armour, and his wife more or less adopted me.'
She saw Steve's lashes flick up in surprise.
J
ake Armour?' he repeated.
`Yes,' she said, her colour high. 'Don't you remember he was at the hotel in Hobart?' He said nothing and she resumed her story mainly out of nervousness. `Jake went broke—he used to gamble, I suppose—so he and Siddie couldn't go on looking after me, and I went to the Websters Funnily enough, only a few years later Siddie and Jake came into a lot of money, though Siddie didn't live to enjoy it very long. They wanted me to come back to them, but I really couldn't leave my aunt. She wasn't well, and Jan was ' She stopped on the point of saying that Jan was helpless i
n the house and changed it to, J
an was doing an art course at the tech. I'd just left school and started in the bank, but it didn't matter—it wasn't as if I had a career ahead of me.'
`Then your aunt died,' Steve said thoughtfully.
`Yes. So you see I was really needed. It wouldn't have been fair to walk out when they'd been so good to me. Anyhow, I was happy—I had friends.'
She saw Steve's mouth twist cynically and supposed he was thinking of Paul, who had turned out to be not such a good friend after all, and she set her lips and
turned to Charl
ie.
'Did Martin have any—special news from home?'
`No, I don't think so. He saki to tell you he'll be leaving Flinders soon and hopes to see you in the meantime.'
Ellis nodded. She thought Charlie was very tactful to say nothing about Jan, and she supposed the whole set-up must be rather a mystery to him. She had the feeling he knew better than to be inquisitive about Steve's affairs, and she was quite sure Steve wouldn't give away much about his personal life.
The conversation presently returned to the shearing, and Steve remarked that, provided it didn't rain, it should be finished by the end of the week. Ellis stopped listening. As soon as that? And then—Steve had as good as said she could go. He—he wasn't going to force her to surrender.
She thought about the situation later as she sat at her mirror, brushing her hair. Some part of her longed to tell Steve that she didn't want to go—she'd be happy living here for ever—she'd marry him. But he didn't love her. No way could she fool herself that he did. And she couldn't—couldn't marry a man who didn't love her. He'd asked Jan first, and that made asking her almost a humiliation. She meant absolutely nothing to him. Again and again she was brought up against that thought and it was like running into a brick wall. She couldn't alter the facts, she couldn't pretend he had seen her and fallen in love with her. One girl was as good as another—except that she was very well aware that Jan's attractions outweighed her own by a ton. And she couldn't help thinking it was quite on the cards that Jan would eventually give in when she found Steve wouldn't. Despite his hardness, he was a powerfully attractive man.