The Unconventional Bride Page 10

  ‘Eggs are one of the few things I cannot tolerate without salt.’

  ‘Then you probably don’t have anything to worry about!’

  He looked at her with amazement.

  ‘Now what?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody quite like you. Do you remember what happened on the beach last night?’

  Mel coloured delicately. ‘Of course. Why?’

  ‘No reason, just checking.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Actually,’ she said slowly, ‘I can’t work you out at all this morning. I’m not sure if you’re in a good mood or a bad mood, and, if it’s bad, what part of me you’re objecting to.’

  He stopped eating. ‘It’s not you I’m objecting to, it’s the lack of you. In my bed, to be precise. Sadly, I’m not a patient man. But before you repeat all the rubbish I spouted last night, I will soldier on.’

  For a moment she was tempted to laugh but at the same time she wasn’t sure he was joking and he confused her further by finishing his breakfast with apparent enjoyment, draining his coffee-cup then standing up and telling her he would now pack for the second instalment of their so-called honeymoon.

  He left her alone in her state of confusion to finish her breakfast. To make matters worse, the events on the beach last night seemed to have brought to her a permanent state of heightened awareness of Etienne from then on.

  She watched him swing their bags into the boot of the car and caught her breath as the long muscles of his back rippled. He decided to drive without consulting her and once they were closed into the car everything he did and was affected her senses. The way he flicked the gear lever brought his hands to her attention and the memories of how they’d roamed over her body.

  The freshly showered scent of him in clean jeans and a navy T-shirt was almost intoxicating. Above all, or perhaps the most intimidating aspect of Etienne Hurst in a different mood, was that he seemed to catch the invisible vibes of how he was affecting her. She just knew it from the way his gaze rested on her from time to time when their arms brushed or they came into close contact.

  So the contest was still on, she reflected. He may have slowed the pace of things last night but the pressure was still there, if not building up. The pressure to get her into his bed and get this marriage off the ground.

  Then her mind made a quantum leap for some reason, to Brad and Paula Littleby. Why? she wondered. Because they were a prime example of lust rather than love in a relationship?

  She thought about it in the car as they drove towards Rosslyn Bay, from where the ferry to Great Keppel Island left. While she may not be able to put the blame for her situation squarely on Etienne, what difference was there between their marriage and the Littlebys’?

  At this point in her reflections, Etienne took a turn to the left onto a narrow side-road that led down towards the coast.

  She raised her eyebrows at him.

  ‘Something I wanted to show you,’ he said, and changed down into a lower gear as the road became not only narrow and windy but also steep, with a cliff up one side and an embankment down the other.

  ‘I hope you’re not going to get my car all muddy,’ she said whimsically.

  He flicked her a glance. ‘No. It’s narrow but it’s tarred all the way; it’s actually a new road.’

  ‘So, what’s at the bottom?’

  ‘Wait and see. I—’ He stopped abruptly and swerved as a rock, loosened by the rain perhaps, rolled onto the road in their path—and all hell broke loose. A tall tree halfway up the cliff side of the road, that had, although they didn’t know it, been precariously shored up by the rock, toppled over just as they got abreast of it.

  Mel screamed as it hit the bonnet and slewed the car sideways so that it teetered on the shoulder then started to roll down the embankment.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘MEL? Are you awake?’

  She swam up through a haze of pain-filled shadows and gasped as the pain was no longer shadowy but sharp and acute, all over, but mostly in her right leg.

  ‘Etienne?’ she whispered and found that her lips were dry, her mouth was dry and her eyelids seemed to be stuck together. ‘Etienne? Are you all right? I think, I’m not sure, but I think I’ve broken my leg. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m right here, Mel. I’ve got you in my arms—see?’

  He put her hand over his and lifted them to her range of vision.

  She struggled to open her eyes and their hands swam into bleary view. Then she looked upwards and his face came into focus, dark, concerned and with blood running down his cheek.

  ‘Are we alive?’ she queried.

  The briefest smile twisted his lips. ‘Yes, we are, very much so, but I think you may be right about your leg.’

  She lifted her head and stared around. The car was resting on its roof not far away, in bushland, at the bottom of the embankment.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ She looked up towards the road.

  ‘Yes. We were a bit lucky,’ he said drily.

  ‘My beautiful car!’ The sentiment, uttered involuntarily, was nevertheless genuine, and astonished Mel. It also caused Etienne to look down at her wryly. ‘Don’t worry. It’s insured.’

  ‘I don’t know what made me say that—are you sure you’re all right? You’re bleeding!’

  ‘Just a cut. Apart from bruises and scrapes, I suspect I came off lightly. Mel,’ he said gently, ‘I’m going to have to make you up a splint before I move you again.’

  ‘Were we thrown out?’ she asked.

  ‘No, but luckily you were unconscious while I got you out. Think you can handle it?’

  She tried to lever herself up but gasped at the pain.

  ‘Don’t you do anything,’ he warned. ‘Leave it to me.’

  He eased himself away from her and laid her back on the damp ground. ‘Hang in there for a moment, kid, I’ll have you more comfortable in a tick.’

  Despite his claims of getting off lightly, Mel couldn’t help noticing that he was limping as he hurried over to the car. Fortunately, the final impact must have sprung the boot, and all the suitcases were lying open in a jumble on the ground. He made several journeys, coming back with the cases, his golf clubs, a groundsheet, the car rug and the toolbox that was a standard accessory.

  This was not a standard toolbox, however, he explained as he drew out a small axe and a collapsible shovel. This was a safari-level box and even came with a medical kit.

  ‘You would never take that car on safari, would you?’ she remarked with an effort. ‘And why the golf clubs?’

  ‘Maybe not but I ordered one all the same. The golf clubs? I thought they might make splints. Thing is,’ he looked around, ‘how to tie them on?’

  ‘There were four pairs of brand-new pantihose in my case, my new case,’ Mel said. ‘Would they do?’

  ‘Brilliant, Mrs Hurst. Just the thing. I knew that trousseau would come in handy if I bided my time,’ he added with a little smile.

  Twenty minutes later her leg was secure, although she was white with pain. He’d insisted on taking off her trousers, and then, with her nail scissors, had cut one leg off them and slipped it over his construction of golf clubs and pantihose as added security.

  ‘Not the most comfortable splint but all the club heads are down round your ankle so they don’t dig into you.’ He knelt down beside her again. ‘I just need to check you over before I move you, Mel. I did it as well as I could earlier but I’d like to be sure.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘The odd cracked rib,’ he said lightly but his eyes were serious and searching as his hands roamed over her, gently pressing and probing. ‘I know,’ he went on, ‘I’m not a doctor but I insist all my staff have first-aid training—you really need it in a machine shop—then I thought I ought to lead by example. Any double vision? Or nausea?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘All right.’ He stood up and looked around. And choosing the closest, most level piece of ground tha
t was shaded by some scrub, he worked on it with the axe and the shovel before laying out the groundsheet and fashioning a pillow out of his clothes. Then he wedged his golf umbrella into a bush for more shade.

  After that came the painful business of moving her. By the time he got her where he wanted her, she was white again and with tears streaming down her face, although no sound had escaped her lips.

  ‘That’s better,’ he murmured. ‘May not feel like it at the moment but it will be, I promise.’ He covered her with the rug and leant over to open the first-aid kit. ‘Glory be! Some extra-strong painkillers—what we need is some water.’

  ‘I have a couple of bottles of mineral water. I took them from our bure. I also took some packets of tea, coffee and sugar, biscuits and all the toiletries from my bathroom,’ she said guiltily.

  ‘Well done—don’t we all? In your bag?’

  She nodded and presently she was swallowing two painkillers washed down with mineral water.

  ‘Uh, now if I were really resourceful,’ Etienne said, ‘I would find a way to make you a cup of sweet, weak tea.’

  She reached for his hand. ‘I don’t think there is a way but you’ve been wonderful. Is there any chance that someone will…find us?’

  He looked down at her and stroked her hair. ‘Sure. But it might speed things up if I could make a fire.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Smoke signals—what about your mobile phone?’

  He pulled a face. ‘It got smashed.’

  ‘Does anyone live around here?’ she asked anxiously. ‘What were you going to show me?’

  ‘A block of ground I bought but have never developed. I was waiting for the bitumen road to go in. Uh—no one lives down here that I know of.’

  ‘So why did they put a road in?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s some talk of a fish farm being developed in the area.’

  Mel was silent for a time. Silent and scared.

  ‘Hey,’ he lay down beside her, ‘you’ve got me.’

  ‘I know but it could be days.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ he said definitely. ‘Someone will miss us. Look, why don’t you close your eyes and try to sleep? If I’m not here when you wake,’ she moved convulsively but he stilled her with his hands, ‘I’ll only be trying to get up to the road to leave a sign.’

  ‘Could you wait until I do, if I do?’

  ‘Of course.’ He moved closer and she could smell the sweat he’d worked up and found she loved it. And the way his eyebrows were fashioned, something she’d never noticed before. His navy T-shirt was torn and dirty and the cut on his cheek ignored so that the blood had dried.

  She put her fingertips to it in a butterfly touch. He caught her hand and kissed her fingers. ‘You’ve been so brave, Mel.’

  She smiled faintly. ‘Why are you limping?’

  ‘Ah, I hoped you hadn’t noticed. I must have pulled a muscle in my thigh, that’s all.’

  The light around them was tinted green from his golf umbrella. ‘We could be underwater,’ she said dreamily.

  ‘We could,’ he agreed, but she missed the narrowing of his eyes as she stared upwards and he watched her.

  ‘Two fish, maybe the first citizens of the fish farm?’

  ‘I prefer to think of you as a lovely mermaid,’ he said softly, and held his breath as her eyelids fluttered then shut.

  He waited for a couple of minutes until he was sure she was asleep then eased himself away and sat up to rub his head, grit his teeth and examine his options.

  He was as sure as he could be, as a layman, that she had no internal injuries and the break in her leg was a clean fracture, but he was only a layman despite his first-aid training. And there was the more insidious side of it to take into account—shock and possible concussion.

  Up until just before she’d fallen asleep she’d seemed quite lucid, but that was not to say delayed shock wouldn’t set in. That in turn meant she needed to be watched and kept warm and quiet. Therefore his best option for a speedy rescue was out of the question, he reasoned, and looked up at the road.

  By his calculations they were about five kilometres away from the main road, not an impossible walk by any means but—he paused to rub the back of his leg—for someone who had done in his hamstring and was in a lot more pain than he’d let on, it would take him hours to reach the main road. Too long to leave her alone…

  He looked around. There had to be some other way.

  ‘Smoke.’ Mel breathed in the definite aroma of wood smoke. She opened her eyes and looked around.

  Most improbably, Etienne had a fire going and he was boiling water in a blackened old tin can, with a couple more lined up. He’d also moved two flat rocks next to the fire, one of which he was sitting on. In fact, the scrubby bushland around them had been pruned back, and in other circumstances what he’d created would have made a reasonable camp site. He’d even cut off a slim, leafy gum shoot and was using it to wave away the bush flies.

  She made a surprised sound and he got up and came over to her immediately, using one of his golf clubs as a walking stick. ‘How do you feel, Mel?’ He bent over her and picked up her wrist to test her pulse.

  She closed her eyes again and felt pain wash through her. ‘OK,’ she said but swallowed hard.

  ‘Time for some more painkillers. You’ve slept quite a while.’

  ‘Have I? While you’ve been so busy,’ she murmured. ‘How did you manage it?’

  ‘I’ll tell you after you’ve taken these.’ He helped her to sit up and she swallowed two more pills with mineral water. And he helped her to attend to a call of nature with the minimum of fuss and embarrassment, and washed her face and hands for her with a T-shirt dipped into warm water. Then he made her comfortable, making a pillow for her out of foam rubber he’d hacked out of the car seats, and wrapping her in the rug.

  ‘Shortly,’ he said, ‘I’ll be able to give you a cup of tea and a biscuit.’ He limped back to the fire.

  ‘You must have been a good boy scout.’

  He glinted a grin across his shoulder at her. ‘Never in ’em.’

  ‘So how did you manage this?’

  ‘I scouted around a bit and found a crevasse in the embankment with a lip of rock over it. There was a lot of dry old wood in it and these cans. I don’t know if it was just coincidence or some bushwalker’s cache but it all came in very handy, as you see. And, thanks to the rain, I found some rock pools.’

  ‘But how did you light the fire?’

  ‘You’re not the only one who pinches things. I pocketed a couple of books of the resort matches—you never know when matches are going to come in handy.’

  She smiled palely then frowned at the angle of the sun creeping below the golf umbrella. ‘Am I wrong or is it late afternoon now?’

  ‘You’re right. It’s about five o’clock.’ He decanted some boiling water carefully into the smallest of the cans.

  ‘And no one has driven past?’ she queried.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said casually, and removed a tea bag from the smallest can then stirred the contents with a twig. ‘But there’s no chance of anyone driving past and not knowing we’re here.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I climbed up to the road and planted a golf club where we rolled over, hung with a selection of our brightest clothes on it and I put the two hazard signs out of the car on either side of it. That should alert anyone going past. I have also,’ he brought the can wrapped in a pair of his underpants over to her, ‘been practising my smoke signals. Tea is served, ma’am!’ he said deferentially and drew a couple of Cellophane-wrapped biscuit packs from his pocket.

  Mel hoisted herself onto one elbow. ‘Sir, you’re a genius!’

  ‘Hang on, let’s see if we can sit you up for a bit.’

  A few minutes later she was propped against a tree trunk.

  ‘That’s better but be careful, it’s very hot,’ he warned.

  She blew on the liquid then drank. ‘It’s just what I need. Thanks.’
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  They shared the tea and had one biscuit each.

  ‘OK, back to work, but listen, Mel, if you feel cold, shivery or too hot, tell me.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised, and was content to lean back and watch him try to make smoke signals.

  ‘Hell,’ he said at one stage, flapping one of his shirts over the fire, ‘this is not as easy as it looks.’

  She laughed softly.

  ‘All I seem to be doing is spreading the smoke around, diffusing it in other words, the exact opposite of what I’m trying to achieve.’

  ‘Maybe you need something bigger to flap?’

  ‘Maybe I do.’ He looked around with a frown. ‘I also suspect it has something to do with the fierceness of the fire, maybe even the kindling you use; there could be all sorts of “givens” to making smoke signals.’

  ‘I have a long dressing gown in my bag. Try that first,’ she suggested.

  He dug around in her bag and came out with a blue terry-cotton robe, and started to experiment with it. At first the result was much the same, or more, as they started to cough and their eyes to water in the smoke he was spreading. Then, by sheer fluke, he insisted, he began to send up round balls of smoke, twenty of them, before the fire needed rebuilding.

  ‘Success, Mrs Hurst,’ he enthused and collapsed onto a rock. ‘Bet you didn’t think I could do it?’

  ‘Oh, I did! I have great faith in you, Etienne! Etienne,’ she pushed herself up and frowned because all of a sudden his face had tightened and he was rubbing the back of one thigh savagely, ‘are you all right? Your leg—’

  ‘Just the old hamstring. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Why don’t you take one of those painkillers?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Why don’t you…relax for a bit?’

  ‘I will. A couple more chores then I’m at your disposal, Mel.’ He sent her a rather wry look and reached for his golf club.

  It was dark by the time he’d finished. He’d fetched more wood, contrived to make a bed of sorts with more foam from the car seats and he’d made them a cup of coffee and doled out one more biscuit each. He’d also put more clothes on her, and socks, and donned his own jacket.