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When she woke again she felt as though she was being studied. She lifted her eyes up, then focussed on the tall figure at the side of the bed.

‘Hi, water baby! My, what some folks do instead of taking an ordinary shower! Tell me, is rain good for the complexion?’ He chatted quietly, not expecting any reply as he felt her forehead in a professional manner. ‘Mm—no fever! Right, let’s see your gorgeous legs, water baby.’ He lifted the blankets back gently and was quiet while he concentrated on changing the dressing. ‘It takes a little while, soon be over,’ he continued almost as though she was a child. ‘Right, you’ll probably always have a scar there, but it’ll not spoil your legs, so don’t fret!’ He replaced the blankets and tucked her in firmly.

Thank you,’ said Frances meekly. ‘I’m afraid I can’t remember getting here.’

‘You can thank the dogs. They started kicking up a racket, so I got up to give them a piece of my mind and I thought I heard someone whistle. So I let Blackie off and when he took off like a shot I followed. I must admit you gave me a hell of a fright, water baby!’ He paused. ‘I brought you back here, Gam called the doctor and we warmed you up.’

Slowly Frances nodded her understanding. Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been a nuisance. I’ll get up and go back to Jenny’s now.’

She struggled to sit up and finally managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed. Her legs seemed very strange and she still could not put weight on her ankle despite its strapping. Ian caught her to him as she fell, scooping her back to bed in an angry gesture.

‘You’ll stay in bed until I say, understand? Otherwise you’ll only get sick and delay your recovery. In the meantime you can eat what Gam gives you.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Jenny’s sent over some of your night gear, so you can change later on if you want to. This garment is hardly revealing. I think I’d rather have you in your own.’

‘I like it, thank you!’ Frances retorted, her spirits rapidly rising. ‘Actually I do feel hungry.’

‘Right. I’ll tell Gam and she’ll probably fix you something.’ His hand idly twisted a curl on her pillow in farewell.

After he had gone Frances snuggled into the depths of the bed. She felt quite ridiculously happy, which was silly, of course, but perhaps was a reaction from whatever the doctor had given her. It was only a few minutes before Gam bought her a delicious omelette and tea. Frances sat up, delighted to see her. Gam filled in some more of the blank spaces, while she ate the omelette.

Frances thanked her gratefully and made a special point of asking if she had any more of the delightfully modest nighties. Gam’s eyes twinkled and she said she would be able to find another somewhere.

‘Ian dumped you here as the warmest place for you once you were cleaned up. It would have taken a couple of hours to air beds in the spare rooms. I could have let you have my bed, but Ian said his was better, as he has the dressing room where he could sleep and watch you.’

Frances digested this information slowly, her eyes going to the dressing room she guessed was through the door. The thought of Ian nursing her was oddly mixed, and she cuddled into the big folds of the bed for reassurance. Gam gave her a tablet the doctor had left for her and she swallowed it obediently. Then Gam took the tray and she settled to sleep.

It was night when she woke and she whimpered, frightened by the darkness, thinking she was still in the sodden darkness of the field. Even as she struggled to sit up Ian was there holding her gently, soothing her quietly. Contented again, Frances held on to his hand and settled again.

The morning came and she felt lousy, dry-tongued, scratchy and with a headache. She gladly drank the orange juice Ian bought her. She sipped it slowly and he walked out to get some dressings. Quickly she put down the glass and swung her legs to the side. This time she must get up. However, she held the edge of the bed for support and had to bite back a cry from the pain. She staggered when she saw Ian walking in and flung herself anxiously back onto the bed.

'I'll do your leg again,’ he said shortly. Frances let him minister to her, appreciating the deftness and delicacy of his touch. When he finished that he put ice on her ankle, then restrapped it after a few minutes. To her comment he said simply, that he had taken a course in it some time ago.

‘Ian, I’m sorry I panicked last night.’

‘That’s O.K., water baby. I half expected it. That’s why I slept in there. Gam wanted to, but I wouldn’t let her. She’s some gal, but she’s been on the road too long to have to start having broken sleep. Besides, I’m not busy at the moment, it’s been raining so hard all harvesting has stopped for a while.’

Despite his words Frances didn’t see him for the rest of the day. Gam came up and chatted to her and Jenny and the boys rang up. It made her feel slightly ridiculous at the bother she. had caused. In the evening Ian redressed her leg and carried her to the bathroom again. She was pink with embarrassment as he waited by the door for her to complete her ablutions. When she was ready he picked her up and placed her gently in the bed again. In the meantime he had remade it, and Frances curled up gratefully.

He disappeared for a while, then returned with her dinner on a tray. After she had eaten he removed the tray and returned with a cassette recorder and a stack of tapes. He plugged it into the electric plug by the bed and showed her how to operate it, placing it on the bed beside her. The music flooded the room with a tremendous volume of sound and they both reached for the switch instinctively.

‘Must have turned it up the last time I used it,’ Ian laughed. He adjusted it so that the music could be listened to, yet was not too obtrusive. Frances was glad to have the music. It gave her something safe to talk about and judging by the variety of the tapes, Ian’s taste in music was catholic. He sat on the chair by the window, half looking at her or out the window, and she found great enjoyment in discussing the music. She noticed his foot tapping in time to the beat and smiled at the involuntary movement. Together they listened to a recording of a well known pianist’s rendition of a Chopin study and the quiet elegance of the music wrapped itself around them. When it was over Frances sighed deeply and Ian switched off and unplugged the recorder.

‘I’ll leave it here and you can use it tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at lunchtime and take you downstairs if you feel up to it.’

He looked at her as he said ‘Goodnight’, then he went to his dressing room, and she determinedly shut her eyes. Later she heard him showering, and a smile lit her face as she heard him burbling away. His voice was rich and powerful, his chest producing a resonant bass. The music was not familiar to her and she wondered if it was from a modern opera. She settled into bed, oddly content with the thought of Ian’s closeness.

*

The morning sun played upon her face and woke her with its warm fingers. After the greyness of the sky it seemed a token of her mood. She limped out of bed to the bathroom and dressed herself slowly. After breakfast Ian reappeared and dressed her legs, doing so apparently with complete ease.

‘That’s better.’ He studied her and a smile flashed in his face. ‘Looks like I’ve lost my Modigliani this morning—yesterday you were all grey blue and sharp angles!’

‘Thanks for nothing!’ retorted Frances.

‘I’ll put you over here in the window seat. You’ve probably had enough of bed.’ He bent down and lifted her easily, putting her into the winged chair in the centre of the room. For an instant the physical contact flashed between them, broken naturally by Frances’ exclamation of the view.

The trees surrounded and protected the lawn, a strip of them curling to form the drive to the road. Past them the paddocks lay spread out in a neat geometric design of green and gold, laced with the darker threads of fencing and splotched with the black of the trees. In the distance the river shimmered and sparkled in the sunshine. From downstairs there had been no inkling of the spectacular view from Ian’s room. Evidently the additional height gave so much more beauty over the tops of the trees.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Frances said simply.

‘I think so.’ Ian smiled at her and the intimacy of that moment lingered as something almost palpable between them.

‘Like true beauty, the more you study, the more it reveals,’ Ian said quietly. His glance studied her as though he was asking what she could reveal. Then he turned and was gone, and she was left feeling strangely bereft. She looked back to the windows and gratefully felt the sunshine on her face. There were more clouds massing, but at the moment she was content to sit and dream. She wondered how many times Ian had sat here looking over this land letting his mind soak in the beauty. Circumstance had forced her entry into his most private citadel and the glimpses of the real Ian were tantalising, It seemed strange that the man who had been so cruel and scornful to her now showed a rare gentleness and sensitivity. Frances wondered if he would change once she was well and returned to work for Jenny and Rupe.

Gam came up shortly afterwards bearing coffee and hot scones. ‘Ian said you were looking better, and he was right.’ She poured Frances a cup of coffee.

‘I’m sorry I’m putting you to so much trouble, Gam.’

Gam twinkled, ‘Yes, it is a trouble—and a good thing too! Have a scone, Frances, you’re overdue for fattening up. A puff of wind would weigh more, I think.’

The scones were delicious and Frances could feel her strength recovering. After morning tea Gam bustled about tidying up and chatting about a variety of topics. She passed Frances her make-up case and perfume and Frances felt more like herself with her make-up on. It couldn’t hide the pallor and fragility of her face, but with a soft brush of eye-shadow and a hint of blusher she was able to improve her appearance.

She brushed her hair, spending a lot of time on it. It had managed to pick up a lot of mud, most of which had been brushed out earlier, but it now responded to the brush, to lie softly gleaming around her head.

‘I’ve brought you along one of my native trees and plants books to have a look through. This one in particular has some remarkable paintings, quite exquisitely detailed. I think we can learn such a lot from the world around us. There’s a section of the native vines which is particularly absorbing.’ She handed Fran a large book, then, seeing its heaviness, she pulled a wine table over so she could read it without having to bear its weight.

Frances wondered what Gam was trying to say, but gave it up and turned to the book. It was easy to become absorbed, but after Gam had left very quiet. She switched on the tape recorder and popped a cassette into its obliging jaw, enjoying the sound which flooded the room. Vaguely Frances studied the section Gam had pointed out. She had been under the impression from Gam’s comments that she could profit by learning something by studying the pages on vines. There were many of them, all quite different, some with spectacular flowers, others bearing more insignificant flowers. She closed the book, having convinced herself she would have to ask Gam later what she had meant, then dozed quietly, letting the music roll over her.

Ian’s
touch on her cheek wakened her and her eyelids fluttered, her eyes enlarging as she looked at him.

‘Come on, water baby, put your arms around me and I’ll take you downstairs.’ His tone was casual and flippant as he bent to pick her up. She curled herself still half sleepily against the warmness of his body reaching out her hands against the back of his neck. His closeness awakened her thoroughly and she stiffened, only to hear Ian say quietly, ‘Relax, water baby, I’m not going to drop you.’

Perhaps for a moment she could pretend Ian loved her, that he was holding her because he wanted to. Unwittingly she sighed and curved herself closer to him. It was so good to cling to his strength. Her eyes gleamed as she twigged what Gam had been saying earlier about clinging vines. However, the thought that her action could be interpreted by Ian as a provocation made her stiffen again. They were downstairs now and he put her down in the sunroom in one of the comfortable seagrass chairs. He pulled up another chair opposite so she could rest in a comfortable pose. She was very aware of her heightened heartbeats and hoped Ian had not been conscious of them.

He lifted over a small table and put it beside her as she thanked him.

‘I’ll claim payment one day,’ he grinned, and turned to help Gam carry in a tray with bowls of soup.

Conversation over lunch was easy and Frances was surprised to find how much she enjoyed the meal. Gam was such a lively person and with a fresh audience loved to tell of past history. They hardly noticed the clouds piling up and the gradual darkening of the room until the rain started hitting the windows.

‘The washing!’ exclaimed Gam, and sped out of the door, followed by Ian. They came back laughing to Frances and dumped the just rescued items on to the cupboard top. Ian helped Gam to fold the clothes, his action completely natural.

‘Well, this rain will delay harvesting again, blast it!’ he commented ruefully. '

‘Never mind, you can entertain Frances,’ put in Gam. ‘I’ve got a bucket of plums I picked this morning and they must be made into jam this afternoon, so I’ll be busy in the kitchen.’ Gam dropped Frances an enormous wink and despite herself Frances couldn’t resist responding, glad that Ian was still looking out the window.

With Gam’s disappearance the room became quiet. Ian got his first aid paraphernalia and redressed her leg. Frances bent down to look and a lock of her copper-gold hair rested lightly on Ian’s arm. She flicked it away with a swift apology, but he went on with the dressing, saying easily, ‘It’s all right. It doesn’t bother me.’

It mightn’t worry him, but it certainly bothered her, thought Frances. Now she was so much stronger she was vividly conscious of his masculinity. Through his shirt she could see the movement of his muscles as he wound the bandage round her leg. In the beginning he had pushed her skirt back so he could work, and now it had slipped even higher. She wriggled, uncomfortable at the amount of thigh she was revealing and reluctant to pull her skirt lest Ian misinterpret her gesture. Finally Ian completed the dressing and she could flick her skirt into position. She dared not look at Ian lest he have that mocking gleam back in his eyes.