‘I was trying to exercise caution as it happens,’ she admonished him. ‘You gave me a fright, too.’
‘Then I’m sorry. There’s nothing dangerous about me.’
She laughed shakily. What were they doing here, absorbed in a crazy conversation conducted in the near dark? ‘I have news for you, Rory Compton.’
‘Better not to tell me. It was one of the French doors. I’ve closed the shutters. I should have done it before.’
A shiver of excitement came into her voice. ‘The wind is much stronger now.’
It couldn’t be stronger than her magnetic pull. Rory marvelled at his self-control. Maybe honour could explain it? ‘Why are you whispering?’ he asked.
‘I really don’t know and I don’t want to find out,’ she whispered back. ‘We should turn on a light.’
‘Damn, why didn’t I think of that?’
‘The creek will have broken its banks.’
‘Any chance of your speaking louder?’
‘Oh, shut up!’ The tension between then was electrifying. ‘I’m so glad you were here, Rory!’
‘Am here,’ he corrected. ‘Now, where the heck is the light switch for the stairs?’ He knew it was dangerously wrong to keep standing there. Another minute and he’d reach for her. There was only one answer after that.
‘I’ll get it.’ She slipped away like a shadow. Another second and lights bloomed over the stairs and along the upper hallway.
Behind him the tall grandfather clock chimed three.
‘Ah, just as I thought!’ he exclaimed. ‘The witching hour!’
She was standing beneath a glowing wall sconce. It gilded the dark rose of the long hair that framed her face. He saw she was wearing a magical silk robe, a golden-green, with pink and cerise flowers all over it. It had fallen open down the front so he could see her nightgown, the same cerise of the flowers. It gleamed satin. So did the curves of her breasts revealed by the plunging V of the neckline. For a minute his strong legs felt like twigs.
Allegra drew her robe around her, scorchingly aware of his intimate appraisal. She was so aroused she was nearly on fire.
So why aren’t you moving?
‘We’d better go back to bed,’ she said in another furious whisper. ‘You go up.’
‘Why not leave those two wall sconces on?’ he suggested, not wanting and wanting so much to delay her. No words could describe how he felt. There was something magical about her. ‘There’ll be enough light to see us up the stairs.’ He could only wonder at how composed he sounded when his body was flowing with sexual energy.
‘The rain seems to be slowing.’ She switched off the main lights, then padded on her slippered feet to the base of the stairs. ‘Coming?’
He was awed by the electric jolt to his heart. ‘Coming where?’ He had a sudden overpowering urge to tell her how much he wanted her.
Only she cut him off. ‘You can’t come with me!’ Her voice trembled. She didn’t confess she was terribly tempted.
‘I can’t help wishing I could.’ He stared back at her, hot with hunger. ‘Don’t be scared, Allegra. I would never offer you a moment’s worry.’
She almost burst into tears she was feeling so frustrated. ‘I’m not scared of you,’ she said. ‘I’m scared of me. Haven’t we progressed far enough for one night?’
‘Years have passed off in a matter of hours,’ he said wryly. ‘Even then you haven’t answered the burning question.’
There was a breathless pause. ‘Ask it quickly. I’m going up to bed.’ She fixed her jewelled eyes on him.
‘What was so wrong with your marriage you had to abandon it?’
She might have turned to marble. ‘Don’t go there, Rory,’ she said.
‘You have to get it out of your system.’
She shook her glowing head. ‘Believe me, tonight’s not the night. Good night, Rory!’
‘What’s left of it.’ He shrugged. ‘See you in the morning, Allegra. I’ll be up early to check everything’s okay.’
‘Thank you.’ She was already at the first landing, intent on getting to the safety of her bedroom and shutting temptation out. ‘If you knock on my door, I’ll join you.’
With that she fled.
CHAPTER SIX
THE rain stopped in the predawn. The air was so fresh it was like a liqueur to the lungs. The birds were calling ecstatically to one another secure in the knowledge there was plenty of water. In the orange-red flame of sunrise they drove around the property, Rory at the wheel of the Jeep, revelling in the miracles the rain could perform. Overnight the whole landscape had turned a verdant glowing green. Little purple wild-flowers appeared out of nowhere, skittering across the top of the grasses. Hundreds of white capped mushrooms had sprung up beneath the trees that were sprouting tight bunches of edible berries.
They checked on the herd together. It had been little affected by the torrential downpour. The stock had come through the night unscathed and without event. The hail Allegra had feared had not eventuated. Cattle were spread out all over the sunlit ridges to the rear of the homestead. It was great to see them so healthy, their liver-red hides washed clean by the downpour.
The creek as expected had burst its banks. They stood at the top of the highest slope looking down at the racing torrent. It was running strongly, and noisily, carrying a lot of debris, fallen branches from the trees and vast clumps of water reeds torn up by the flow. When the water hit the big pearl-grey boulders the height reached by the flying spray was something to see. The area around the big rocks churned with swirling eddies of foaming water.
For a time neither of them spoke, simply enjoying the scene and the freshness and fragrance of the early morning. Both of them knew what this life-giving rain meant; how important it was to the entire region. A flight of galahs undulated overhead in a pink and magenta wave. Exquisite little finches were on the wing, brilliantly plumaged lorikeets chasing them out of their territory with weird squawks. Waterfowl, too, were in flight. They came in to the creek to investigate, fanning out over the stream. Allegra and Rory watched as the birds skimmed a few feet above the racing water, then collectively decided it was way too rough to land. They took off as a squadron, soaring steeply back into the sky again. Water was a magnet to birds. They would be back, from all points of the compass just waiting for the raging of the waters to slow and the creek to turn to a splendid landing field.
‘Rain, the divine blessing!’ Rory breathed as he watched the torrent downstream leap over a rock. ‘No rain our way as yet.’
Our way! His beloved Channel Country. They had listened to the radio for news. The late cyclone that had been developing in the Coral Sea was now threatening the far North. Drought continued to reign in the great South-West.
‘When it comes, the creeks, the gullies, the waterholes, the long curving billabongs will all fill up,’ he continued in a quiet but compelling voice. ‘The billabongs cover over with water lilies. None of your home garden stuff. Huge magnificent blooms. Pink, in one place, the sacred blue lotus in another, lovely creams, a deep pinkish red not unlike the colour of your hair. When the rains come the landscape just doesn’t get a drenching, the vast flood plains go under.
‘We’ve been totally isolated on Turrawin before today, surrounded on all sides by a marshy sea. When the storms come they come with a vengeance. It’s all on a Wagnerian scale—massive thunderheads back lit