Unknown by Unknown

Ian stood and pulled her into his arms. They danced slowly round the floor, the music weaving its soft melody around them.
    Gradually she nestled closer to Ian, letting the music draw them together, only the gentle but firm pressure of his hands guiding her caused sparks of physical awareness so that she trembled in the warmth of his arms. A thousand danger signals ripped through her as he claimed her mouth, drowning her in a torrent of feeling as he eased her on to the thick rug. She caught him to her, answering his passion with an abandoned invitation, but he turned from her, casually reaching for his drink on the small table. Calmly he stood up and switched off the music.
    ‘I think that makes us even in the sex games stakes. One love to you this afternoon, but the game to me tonight!’
    His eyes gleamed as he took in the picture she made, lying in an agony of confusion. With a sob Frances jumped up, hating this male creature who had played her so expertly.
    ‘You—you beast!’ she spat at him, turning to flee.
    He gripped her arm, forcing her to face him. ‘Women!’ he muttered. ‘You don’t like your own tactics used against you, do you? Now don’t get angry, water baby. I can satisfy you any time.’ He crushed her against him, making her aware of the hard solid wall of flesh of his body entrapping her with his strength. She struggled to free herself as his mouth took hers, kissing her brutally, a kiss with no love or tenderness.
    The sound of dogs barking and a car’s engine shocked them both and instinctively Ian released her. Frances fled, shutting her bedroom door behind her, as though she could thereby shut out the memory and feelings of that evening. The knowledge of her response to Ian was a bitter blow. What strange chemistry made them react to each other this way? she wondered. She wept softly as she remembered his taunting remarks. If only she could have held herself aloof, she thought. Then a grim smile forced its way out. It would have been easier for King Canute to have stopped the tides, she realised. The same man whose attitude to her was so cheapening was the same man who was idolised by his three small nephews, loved by his sister and her husband and, from comments she had heard, generally well liked by others around him.
    She herself had seen him tenderly taking a soot from Greg’s eye, comforting Ivan after a bad fall, teasing Thad and treating his sister with a gentle love Frances envied. He worked hard on his farm, Frances knew from comments Jenny or Rupe had made.
    If only he wasn’t Jenny’s brother, she thought. How could she continue to face Ian after what had happened? Should she give up the job? Reluctantly she decided she couldn’t hurt Jenny so badly. Several times during the week Jenny had been so kind and thoughtful, charmingly grateful for Frances’ efforts to help. Frances felt trapped. She couldn’t let Jenny down at this late stage. Well, at least she had the weekend in town to work out a plan to keep out of a certain man’s way.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    Early the next morning Frances dressed for town, putting on tights, petticoat and suit, which felt strangely unfamiliar. She made herself some breakfast and tiptoed along to Jenny and Rupe’s room to see if they wanted any tea. Jenny lay snuggled into her husband, his arm outflung in a protective gesture. Silently Frances tiptoed back to the kitchen. How wonderful to be loved like that, she thought. She had always dreamed that one day she would meet a man, fall in love, marry and have children. Her lips twisted wryly. She had certainly met a man who puzzled and disturbed her, yet to her he showed nothing of love, she acknowledged.
    She sped away from the farm, swung on to the main road and headed the car back to Christchurch. It seemed incredible to think so much had happened in just a week. She had barely time to think of her family or even to wonder about John Brooker and his wife. Strangely enough she felt a little more