she wanted to remain a virgin until their wedding night. At first he’d been sure it was a damned ploy to keep him interested, on a knife’s edge. As a ploy it certainly worked, but then he came to realise she was fair dinkum. It was impossible to believe! But, boy, wouldn’t he make up for the long hungry years of deprivation! Their wedding night couldn’t come soon enough.
They had scarcely made it into the packed hall with huge silver-blue disco balls suspended from the ceiling like glittering moons, when Scott’s grip on her arm tightened. Carrie let out a surprised little whimper. ‘Hey, Scott, you’re hurting!’
‘Sorry.’ He shifted his arm to around her waist, hauling her close to him. ‘That bastard has had the nerve to show up,’ he ground out, his eyes quickly finding Clay Cunningham’s rangy figure across the room.
So it wasn’t going to be a happy evening! Carrie’s heart began to thump. She lifted her eyes to Scott’s tight face. ‘Scott, please settle down. We’re here to enjoy ourselves aren’t we? Everybody will be watching. Clay Cunningham has a perfect right to be here. I expect there would be a lot of disappointed girls if he hadn’t shown up. Surely you’re not looking for trouble?’
‘He’d do well to steer clear of me,’ Scott gritted, unable to conceal a flare of jealousy so monstrous it startled even him. He tried to calm himself by sheer will power. So far as he was concerned it was Cunningham versus him! Across the packed hall Cunningham was standing head and shoulders above a group of silly giggling females. One let out a burst of ecstatic laughter, obviously thrilled there was an eligible bachelor in their midst. A man, moreover, who had expressed his desire to find himself a wife. Hadn’t they heard, the little fools, Jimboorie House was falling down? Didn’t they know Jimboorie Station would never be what it was again? Or would any man do? Girls fell in and out of love so fast. They were like kids with some wonderful new toy.
All right, Cunningham was handsome. Scott was honest enough to admit that. All the Cunninghams were. Even Natasha. And Cunningham had that look about him, he recognised, of a fine natural athlete. How had that little weed of a kid who he’d loved slapping around turned into this guy? Scott wasn’t even sure he could take Cunningham in a fight, even though he was a good amateur boxer, a welterweight champion at university. The fact Cunningham had beaten him for the Cup Scott took as a scalding defeat. And he’d been beaten so easily! That was what stunned and humiliated him. He was used to being king pin. To cap it off his fiancée had presented Cunningham with the Cup. He’d watched their eyes, then their hands meet. It had only taken him a second to register the look on Carrie’s face. It had filled him with jealousy and unease.
Cunningham had stirred her interest and attention. That wasn’t going to be allowed to happen. Carrie was his! He owned her. Or near enough. She was wearing his ring.
I mightn’t be able to stop you looking, but don’t touch, you bastard! Scott swung Carrie into his arms, whisking her onto the dance floor. At least the music was great. It filled up the room.
After each bracket of numbers, the crowd clapped their appreciation. One of the band, a sexy looking guy in tight jeans, a red satin shirt and cowboy boots, took over the microphone to a roar of applause and began to sing, launching into the first romantic ballad of the night; one that was currently top of the charts. His voice was so attractive the dancers gave themselves up to it….
Carrie didn’t have the usual succession of dance partners she’d had in the past. Things had changed since she had become engaged to Scott. She realised she was starting to worry that Scott was so possessive. She wasn’t property. She was a woman, a human being. The last thing she wanted was a stormy married life with a control freak for a husband. But then her thoughts turned to how understanding Scott was about her desire to remain a virgin until their marriage. It pleased her that he was so considerate of her wishes. She had never been one to bow to peer pressure so she hadn’t been part of the general sexual experimentation that had attended her university years. She knew some of her fellow students had labelled her a bit of an extremist, but the idea of sex without genuine strong feeling had little appeal for her. It was her body that would be invaded after all. Men came from a different place. Most of them she had found, saw sex as satisfying an appetite like food and drink. At the same time they were notoriously quick to pin cruel labels on their willing female partners. Carrie thought there was not only a moral standard, but a health standard that made fastidiousness matter.
Then again she had to take stock of the fact she had no real conflict with remaining a virgin. There was even the odd moment when she had to consider perhaps she hadn’t met the man who could overturn all her defences? Or maybe her libido wasn’t of the intense sort? Not that Scott hadn’t awakened her romantic desires. He had. She knew about sensual pleasure. But still it had been relatively easy to keep to her vow. Or it had been up until now.
She was momentarily alone. Scott was caught up in settling an argument about some polo match when she heard her name—her full name—spoken.
‘You dance beautifully, Caroline. Will you dance with me?’
He was standing in front of her, looking down at her from his superior height. The corners of his mouth were upturned in a smile. His dark blue eyes held a current of electricity that bathed her in its glow.
She managed to smile back. It felt like taking a risk. A tremble shook her body. The music…the laughter…the voices…oddly started to recede. She knew her lips parted but for the smallest time—maybe a few seconds—no words came out.
‘Caroline?’
The oxygen came back to her brain. ‘Yes of course I will,’ she said, unaware a nerve was pulsing in the hollow of her throat.
His arms came around her. He held her lightly yet his arms enclosed her. Letting him hold her—she knew—vastly increased the risks.
She couldn’t relax. Not there and then. He was, she realised, gifted with sexual radiance and he was using that gift. Consciously or unconsciously? She couldn’t tell.
She tried to distract herself by looking at the sea of happy, excited faces around them.
‘I know, I’m too tall for you.’ Clay’s voice was wry. ‘And I’m not much of a dancer. Never had time to learn.’
‘No, you’re fine.’ Indeed, it seemed to her he moved with natural ease and rhythm.
‘And you’re kind.’ He pulled her in a little closer and she lifted her hand higher on his shoulder. She could feel the strength in it; the warmth of his skin. He wasn’t formally attired like Scott. He wore a beige coloured linen jacket over a black T-shirt and black jeans. A simple outfit, yet on him it looked very sophisticated. He would have absolutely no difficulty finding a wife. In fact, the frenzy had already started. It was her role to watch. Never let it be forgotten she was taken!
She realised she was luxuriating in his clean male scent, redolent of the open air, of fragrant wood smoke. Inhaled, it left her with a feeling akin to a delicious languor. The overhead disco lights dazzled, throwing out blue and silver rays over the swirling crowd, their faces and clothes streaked with light.
For long minutes they danced without speaking, he leading her expertly for all he claimed he couldn’t dance. She was beginning to feel a degree of trepidation at the forces set loose by their physical contact. She didn’t want it. She certainly didn’t need it. She didn’t even understand it. Her reaction wasn’t normal. She couldn’t allow herself to think it was akin to being in a state of thrall!
Be careful with this! A warning voice said.
There was a
