Unwelcome Invader

‘Thanks, Brett.’

‘I’ve got some irrigation pipe out in the ute for you. I thought you’d prefer something practical.’

‘Thanks. That’s very nice of you.’

‘No worries. And I thought you could do with a lettuce from my veggie garden.’

He set the lettuce down on the table in front of her and then took Jane in his arms as she rose to her feet. His face looked as red and good-natured as ever and she wanted to return the fervent emotion that she saw shining in his eyes, but somehow she couldn’t. At the last moment, as he bent to kiss her, she turned her head so that his kiss landed on her cheek instead of her lips.

‘Ah, come on, Jane,’ he protested. ‘You can do better than that. Give us a proper kiss.’

Jane’s instinct was to run, but she steeled herself to obey. Glancing at the kitchen, she saw that Marc was standing just inside the French doors and suddenly a crazy impulse seized her to tell Brett that it was Marc she loved and to flee inside to him. How stupid could she be? Instead she flung her arms around Brett’s waist and kissed him warmly on the lips. Brett looked shocked and then delighted. He kissed her back with a warm, moist fervour that made her stiffen with distaste.

‘Ah, that’s the way,’ he exclaimed, approvingly at last. ‘I knew you’d come round if I waited long enough! Listen, Jane, what do you say we stop all this pussyfooting around and get married right away?’

Jane stared at him in horror. This was the proposal she had been waiting for—the proposal she had meant to accept. She opened her mouth to say yes and was seized by such a blind, unreasoning panic that for a moment she could say nothing at all.

‘No!’ she wailed at last, pushing away the bewildered farmer. ‘I’m sorry, Brett, you’re a really, really nice man, but I don’t love you and I never will. Now please go away!’

Hurtling into the house, she almost knocked Marc down in her mad rush.

‘Get out of my way!’ she cried impatiently, confusingly aware of his strong hands steadying her arms, the spicy, masculine scent of his body so close to hers, the questioning glint in his eyes. The irrelevant thought occurred to her that she would have no trouble kissing Marc or agreeing to marry him. She gave him a violent push and ran for the stairs.

‘Don’t let him follow me!’ she begged over her shoulder, and then vanished.

Much as she simply wanted to race up the stairs two at a time, lock herself in her wardrobe and never come out again, Jane couldn’t help pausing anxiously on the stairs to see what happened. A moment later she heard Brett’s heavy tread as he entered the kitchen.

‘Get out of my way, mate,’ he ordered, amiably enough.

Craning her neck, Jane risked a look, and saw that Marc was barring Brett’s way with equal amiability.

‘She doesn’t want to see you,’ said Marc, in a pleasant voice that held an undertone of steel.

‘Now, look here,’ protested Brett. ‘I’m not just mucking about and leading her on, you know. I came here to ask Jane to marry me.’

‘I’m sorry for you. But it seems you have your answer and the answer is no.’

‘This is your fault,’ said Brett accusingly. ‘Coming here, filling her head with your fancy foreign ideas. I’ll bet you’re just trying to turn her against me so that you can have some rotten little affair with her and then go off and leave her broken-hearted.’

‘Whatever happens between Jane and me is none of your business,’ replied Marc with aristocratic hauteur. ‘But, since you seem a decent fellow, I will tell you this. In fact, Jane and I have an understanding between us. Naturally in these circumstances she does not want to be involved with any other man. Nor would I permit it.’

‘But you’ve only been staying here with her for two flaming weeks!’ exclaimed Brett in an outraged voice. ‘How the hell can you have an understanding with her in that time?’

‘You seem to forget that she was in France for six months before that,’ Marc reminded him.

Brett’s face creased into a baffled frown.

‘You mean, you knew her in France before you came here?’ he demanded.

With the merest upward flick of his eyebrows, Marc contrived to suggest that this was so.

‘Well, she never said anything to me about it!’ insisted Brett belligerently.

‘Why should she tell you?’ countered Marc. ‘She regards you as a dear friend, certainly, but she would hardly want to discuss her love for another man with you.’

‘Oh, yeah, love is it?’ demanded Brett sceptically. ‘Well, it had better be, mate, and the real thing into the bargain. Because I’ll tell you this. I’m not going to quarrel with any other bloke if he wins Jane fair and square and she really prefers him to me. But if you’re taking advantage of her and your intentions aren’t serious, I’ll knock your flaming teeth down your throat!’