Island of escape by Dorothy Cork Page A

when she was keeping house for Uncle Bill. All the same, she was not going to pretend to be engaged to Steve Gascoyne, not for any reason on earth, and that was that.
    Rather desperately she looked through the window and discovered they were over Flinders Island. A narrow jetty reached out into the water—there was a group of tiny buildings. The town of Whitemark, for sure.
     
    All too soon they would be landing, he would be saying she was his fiancée—they'd be paired off, and it would be taken for granted he had the right to kiss her, to be alone with her. She was filled with panic. It was worse than the way she felt when that black wave of despair crashed over her head at the remembrance of Paul.
    She hadn't thought of Paul even once during this flight. That was a sobering and slightly shocking realisation.
    Meanwhile the man beside her felt in his pocket and without even looking at her thrust something into her hand—a small, dark red jeweller's box.
    `Your engagement ring,' he said coolly. 'I bought it this morning.'
    Despite herself, she opened the box, then, as the fire of emeralds caught her eye, she snapped it shut again.
    `What's the matter? I assure you--they're real. I wouldn't attempt to trick you with cheap imitations, knowing your tastes. Put it on,' he concluded in the commanding tone of one who is used to being obeyed.
    `You must think I'm mad—that I have no pride ! ' Ellis choked. She had a fair idea what she would be agreeing to once that ring was on her finger—what liberties he would consider himself entitled to take with her.
    `I don't think you're mad at all,' he told her equably. `As for your pride—well, how shall I put it?' She saw his mouth quirk. 'You might find it's quite something to be my fiancée.'
    `And I might not,' she said swiftly. 'I don't want your ring.' She thrust the box towards him, and when he ignored her she leaned forward and deliberately dropped it on the floor. He ignored that too, and glancing at the hard implacability of his profile, she knew she was mad, that she should never have trusted him-
     
    not after the way he had behaved in the hotel bedroom. He wanted a wife—he'd decided to have her in his bed, as he put it, by trickery if he could get her no other way. But it was not going to happen. He couldn't force her to a pretence she didn't want. She wouldn't wear his ring and she would stick to a policy of distance. She'd be a very cool and remote housekeeper, and it would soon be obvious she was very far from being enamoured of Steve Gascoyne.
    A few minutes later, during which time neither of them said a word, Steve gestured for her to look below. Warrianda,' he said briefly.
    Ellis looked through the window. A little ahead she saw a group of buildings, a network of white tracks. One of them, thicker than the others, led to a house that stood among trees. The homestead, she supposed, and knew that in other circumstances she'd have felt a thrill of excitement. But not now. She was merely tensed up. There were mountains ahead, and to the left beyond dark scrub there was a rugged coastline, though she could see the silver curve of a beach against the sparkle of the sea. A tiny vehicle came racing across a paddock, and Steve said, 'That will be my brother Charles. He's coming out to the landing strip to pick us up. You'd better brace yourself.'
    Tor what?' she retorted. 'I won't go through with this pretence you're trying to force on me. I'm the—the housekeeper, and nothing more.'
    He smiled sceptically. 'If I tell Charles that, he's going to laugh in my face.'
    Ellis's heart began to thump. The plane was coming down rapidly now, the ground was racing towards them, she could see the cleared strip where they were going to land, and she said no more. Steve brought the little plane down smoothly, touching down with
     
    scarcely a bump, then taxiing gently to a standstill. The jeep hadn't yet come into sight, and Ellis turned to him and said anxiously, 'You're not