The Australian by Diana Palmer Page B

aching grief went darting through her, but she forced herself not to show it. There was no hope that she’d ever kiss that hard mouth again, or know the strength of those arms holding her. She might as well steel herself against lost hope.
    “God, you’ve changed,” he said, staring down at her.
    “I’ve only grown up. Aren’t you delighted?” she asked with venomous sweetness. “I won’t be following you around like a pet puppy from now on.”
    He stared down at his cigarette and shadows deepened in his eyes. For an instant he looked odd. Strangely haunted. “Yes. I’m delighted.” He put the cigarette to his lips and took a long draw from it. “I have to go. We’re starting the muster tomorrow, and I’ll have a mob of cattle waiting.”
    “Well, at least you’re already wearing your work clothes, aren’t you?” she asked with an empty smile. “You’ll save some time that way.”
    His face grew stony. He smiled back, but it was a chilling smile. “There’s an old saying about clothes making the man. But out here, little sheila, it’s the man who counts. I may not dress to suit your newly acquired sophistication. And I may not have the cultured background of your pet pommy over there. But I’m satisfied with my life. Can you say the same of yours?”
    She couldn’t, but she smiled though it killed her. “Without you in it, you mean?” she asked coldly. “Oddly enough, I look on the breaking of our engagement as a lucky escape. It forced me to take another look at Ronald.” She glanced toward the punch bowl, where he was filling their cups. “My, isn’t he gorgeous?”
    John smiled ironically. “Just your style, Priscilla,” he agreed. His eyes burned her. “Perhaps you’re able to satisfy his watered-down passions. You’d never have satisfied mine. Good night.”
    She stared after him with trembling lips. Why did he continually do that to her? Why did he say cutting things and walk away before she could come up with a suitable reply? She picked up the cup he’d put on the table and was actually raising it over her head when Ronald came back.
    “No!” he burst out, grabbing it. His eyes were incredulous. “You weren’t really going to throw it at him?”
    “Why not?” she asked abruptly. “Don’t be so stuffy!”
    Ronald looked toward the door where John had exited. “Poor chap,” he sympathized. “You do give him the boot at every opportunity, don’t you?”
    “He deserves all he gets and more,” she stated angrily. She shifted restlessly, her evening ruined. “I wonder why Randy and Latrice haven’t shown up?”
    “Oh, the other Sterlings?” he asked. “Betty said Latrice had called and explained something about a headache.”
    “More like a fight,” Priss groaned. “And my fault. I had to tell them about the twins, and she and Randy went at it. Oh, what a miserable day!”
    “Would you like to leave?” he asked.
    “No. I’d like to try not to ruin Betty’s evening after all the trouble she’s gone to.” She forced a smile. “Shall we circulate and pretend to be jubilant?”
    He grinned. “Delighted! While we’re circulating, could we perhaps circulate in the direction of the gorgeous little blonde?”
    “Mandy?” She grinned back, observing the small teacher in the corner all alone. “Yes, let’s!”
    “How are you getting on with the Sterling twins, by the way?” he asked as they walked toward Mandy.
    She sipped her punch. “I’m going to ask for a raise.”
    “That bad, hmmm? Listen, if we could get their father into the military, I think I could pull enough strings to have him transferred to another commonwealth country...”
    “He’s already served,” she said.
    “Drat!”
    “Randy and Latrice said they’d take care of it,” she added, without divulging their recipe for success.
    He sighed. “I’ll remember you in my prayers, old girl.”
    “Thanks.”
    After the party was over and Priss was lying in her own empty bed, she