Unwelcome Invader. Angela Devine

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СКАЧАТЬ a large piece of crusty French bread, Jane was beginning to feel that Marc might not be quite such a monster as she had thought the previous evening. The way his gaze rested on her in that quiet, mocking scrutiny still unnerved her, but perhaps underneath he was really quite nice. She didn’t know that her opinion would change before the morning was over.

      ‘Well,’ said Marc, when they had finally rinsed the dirty plates and cups and put them in the dishwasher. ‘I think it’s time we phoned your father.’

      ‘All right,’ agreed Jane with lead in her heart.

      It was every bit as bad as she had feared. The telephone number which Marc gave her proved to be in Queenstown in New Zealand. When she first came on the line her father proclaimed himself delighted to hear her, but as soon as he realised she was back in Australia and had learnt about Marc’s contract on the vineyard his manner changed. He became defensive and began to bluster. First he told Jane that he had signed the contract for her own good because Marc’s offer had been too handsome to refuse and assured her that they would both make a mint of money out of a set of time-share apartments he was planning to build.

      Jane tried to reason with him, then pleaded, and finally lost her temper and began to shout. At that point Marc seized the telephone and took over. Where Jane had been impassioned and incoherent, he was cool and rational, but Jane had the impression that his cool questioning was beginning to wear her father down. It was tantalising to listen to a one-sided conversation, but a wild hope rose in her as she realised that Marc was getting the better of her father on every point. It was all the more of a disappointment when Marc uttered a pleasant farewell without obtaining any clear resolution of the problem.

      ‘What happened?’ cried Jane hotly. ‘You had him on the run! You could have made him back out of the whole deal, couldn’t you?’

      Marc shrugged.

      ‘Probably.’

      ‘Then why didn’t you?’ she demanded. ‘The whole situation is completely unfair to me—you told him that yourself! So why didn’t you make him give up?’

      ‘Because I chose not to,’ he replied.

      Jane’s disappointment was so acute that she felt like shouting or hitting something. Preferably Marc. Somehow over breakfast she had begun to think of him not so much as an unwanted invader but as her protector and ally. Now she realised bitterly that he was only interested in protecting his own interests.

      ‘I suppose that’s fair enough,’ she sneered. ‘Naturally you’re only interested in your own interests. Why should I expect anything else?’

      Marc’s pupils narrowed to tiny, opaque points of light that seemed for an instant to glitter dangerously. Then he gave her a long, appraising look.

      ‘Never mind my reasons. The important thing is that I’m staying here for the full three months. The question now is, What’s going to happen to you?’

      ‘I’m staying here too,’ insisted Jane. ‘I’m not moving.’

      Marc’s lips twisted into an odd smile.

      ‘And when the irresistible meets the immovable, what happens?’

      ‘I wouldn’t call you irresistible,’ said Jane scathingly.

      ‘And I wouldn’t call you immovable,’ he murmured. His voice was husky and his eyes held a suave, mocking glint that seemed to conceal something brooding and wild beneath it. He reminded Jane of a tiger on a leash. ‘I feel sure I could move you if I tried.’

      ‘Stop playing games!’ she cried. ‘I’m staying here and that’s that.’

      ‘Really? And what will you do for money? I suppose your father has left you adequately provided for?’

      Jane stared at him, aghast. Supposing he hadn’t? She and her father had a joint account which had served both for housekeeping and the expenses of the property. Either of them could withdraw money at any time and she had never fussed about it too much, even though her mother had warned her that it was unwise. Now a tremor of misgiving went through her. What if her father had cleaned the account out?

      ‘I’m sure he’s left me enough money!’ she cried, leaping instantly to her father’s defence.

      With a sceptical expression Marc picked up the phone again and held it out to her.

      ‘Why don’t you phone your bank manager and check?’

      Jane’s fingers were shaking as she punched in the numbers. She wished Marc wouldn’t keep looking at her with that half pitying, half contemptuous stare. Her heart beat more and more frantically and, when at last she got her bank manager on the line, her questions came out in a breathless staccato rush. Even before he answered her something in the quality of his long, initial silence told her that she was in for a bitter disappointment. Waves of humiliation and anger washed over her as she set down the phone again.

      ‘Well? Has he left you enough money?’

      ‘No,’ she flared. ‘You knew he wouldn’t, didn’t you? He’s transferred everything to New Zealand except for a few dollars. What am I going to do? There are Charlie’s wages to be paid and soon there’ll be grape-pickers for the harvest.’

      ‘Don’t work yourself into a state,’ advised Marc coolly. ‘Those things are my concern now. Under the terms of the contract I signed, I’m responsible for all the expenses to do with the vineyard for the next three months. The real difficulty is you. It seems you’re thrown on my charity, Jane. If I choose to show any.’

      She stared at him in horror as the implication of his words sank in. If she stayed here then every mouthful she ate, every bar of soap she washed her hands with would be paid for by Marc Le Rossignol! And the taunting smile that touched the corners of his mouth showed that he was thinking exactly the same thought.

      ‘Yes, chérie, I’m afraid so. If you stay here you will have to come down every morning and beg me sweetly to share my croissants with you. You’ll have to ask me for money to go shopping or to buy petrol for the car. Is that what you want?’

      ‘Oh, go to hell!’ flared Jane.

      Marc laughed, in no way upset by her spurt of temper.

      ‘I’ve always thought my ideal woman would be tall, red-haired and gracious in any situation,’ he remarked. ‘But you, you remind me of…What’s that ferocious little creature you have here? The one that snarls and bares its teeth? A devil, that’s it. You’re a little Tasmanian devil, aren’t you?’

      Jane gave him a long, smouldering, silent glare.

      ‘They’re very bad-tempered creatures,’ continued Marc in a conversational tone. ‘Although I’m told they make good pets if you can tame them—but only one man in a thousand is capable of doing it.’

      ‘Just try!’ snapped Jane.

      Marc smiled provocatively.

      ‘I might. It would be a challenge to see if I could get you eating out of my hand. All right, enough of these games! What’s to become of you?’

      ‘I’m staying here,’ insisted Jane.

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ