Yet even in the cave Lynx had been constantly in my thoughts—in both our thoughts.

If I married Lynx I should be Stirling’s stepmother. Stepmother to the man I had thought of marrying! It was incongruous. Suppose I talked to Stirling? Suppose he told me he loved me? We should have to go away.

We could not marry and live under the same roof as Lynx, now that he had declared his passionate need of me.

But when I thought of life without Lynx I was filled with dismay. It would be flat and dull. With Stirling? Yes, perhaps even with him. But Lynx would never allow us to go away. That thought comforted me. I remembered vividly the sight of him on his white horse, the gun in his hands. A murderer! He said he would do the same to any man who laid hands on roe. And Stirling?

I was caught up in the whirlwind of my own emotions. I did not know what I should do.

I must see Stirling.

I spent a sleepless night and was up early. I saw Stirling at breakfast and told him I must speak to him soon and alone.

We took our horses and rode out into the bush.

Before we had covered a mile, I said to him, “Stirling, your father has asked me to marry him.”

“Yes,” he said, his face impassive.

“It surprised me.”

Did it? “

He talked to you about it? “

“It came out in his plans for going to England.”

So Stirling had indeed known about it for some time. Before the fire.

Then I had misunderstood everything. To him I was only a sister. I had made this mistake of believing that our relationship went deeper than that. I had misunderstood everything—Stirling as much as Lynx.

“I see,” I said blankly.

There was silence. His face betrayed nothing. I felt disappointed, deflated. How stupid I had been!

“If I married your father I should be your stepmother,” I said with a foolish little laugh.

“Well?”

“That seems very odd.”

Why? “

“You’re older than I am.”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone had a young stepmother. “

“Stirling, what do you think of it?

“My father would be happier than he has ever been in his life. And you know how fond of you we have grown. You’re already one of us. This will …”

I waited breathlessly for him to continue. He shrugged his shoulders.

“It will bring you closer than ever,” he finished.

Again I felt that maze of bewilderment. What did I want? Stirling to break down, to tell me that he could not endure to see me married to another man—even his own father? Did I want him to plan our escape?”

I did not know. I think part of me clung to the old dream of myself and Stirling going through the years together, our children climbing on to their grandfather’s knee, venerating him, adoring him, as we all did. It was the old conventional dream. But how could Lynx play the background figure in any story?

I started to gallop and immediately heard Stirling’s horse thudding behind me. He doesn’t care, I thought. He’s glad because it’s what his father wants. Stirling has no will or his own; his only will is that of his father. He had been fond of me, yes—but as his sister.

So now I knew what I should do. Stirling had made the decision for me.

But was that true? Should I ever have been able to tell Lynx that I could not marry him because I loved his son?

I love them both, I thought in desperation. How strange it should be that with the younger man I envisaged the peaceful and conventional life, and with the other—old enough to be my father—the adventure.

When we arrived back at the house Lynx must have seen us for one of the servants came down at once to say that he wished to see me in the library.

It was like a command, I thought with a faint but indulgent exasperation. But while his arrogance irked me I wanted it.

I deliberately delayed and he was impatient.

“How long you took,” he complained.

“I stopped to comb my hair and wash my hands before entering the royal presence.”

“Didn’t you know that I expect immediate obedience?”

“I knew you expected it, but things don’t always happen as one expects.”

He laughed as he did so readily now. In fact I seemed constantly to amuse him. But perhaps it was the laughter of triumph for he knew that I was going to succumb to his wishes. I think I had known it right from the start . in spite of Stirling.

“You are more self-assured this morning than you were last night.”

“I was a little taken by surprise then.”

“And now you have had an opportunity to consider …”

“My good fortune?”

“Our good fortune,” he amended.

“But you need not go on. I know your answer.”

“You were so sure of it from the beginning that you didn’t really think it necessary to ask me.”

“I know what is best for you.”

“Do you also know what is best for yourself?”

“You are best for me and I for you. It’s as simple as that. You had a good ride with Stirling?” He looked at me steadily.

“He is delighted.

My family knows that my marriage with you is what I desire more than anything in the world. Therefore they are happy that it should take place. “

I held out my hands to him and he grasped them eagerly.

I am a member of that family,” I said, ‘so I suppose I must fall into line.”

I saw the triumph in his eyes as I was caught up in his embrace.

“I shall disappoint you,” I said.

“Impossible.”

“You will find me too young and stupid.”

“And you will be imperious with me.”

“You will be impatient with me.”

“I shall find you as I always have—enchanting.”

I think it is somehow incongruous. “

“Nonsense. You love me.”

“Is it lese-majeste to love the gods of Olympus as one would an ordinary mortal? Shouldn’t one adore merely.”

“That will do for a start,” he said.

There was a ceremonial dinner that evening and every place at the table was filled. I sat beside him. He was benign; his eyes shone rather than glinted. I had never seen him look as he did then and I was elated because I was responsible for it.

He laughed a great deal; he was tolerant with everyone; and at the end of the meal he made the announcement. He and I were shortly to be married—very shortly, he added. This was a great occasion and everyone was to drink the health of his bride-to-be. They stood and lifted their glasses. There were men at the table who had been present at that scene in the wool shed after the shooting of Jacob Jagger. There was Adelaide looking flushed and delighted because at last her father was happy; there was Jessica, her lips pursed, a gloomy Cassandra; and there was Stirling, his face betraying nothing of that which I half hoped to see.

I thought about them as I lay in bed that night—and particularly did I think of Stirling. I tried to look back on everything that had happened between us and ask myself how I could have misconstrued his feelings for me. If he had given me some sign that he loved me . but what should I have done? Somehow I knew that I could never have refused Lynx. He would not have allowed it. Nor did I wish him to. He loved me a thousand times more than Stirling ever could. He was capable of deeper, more searing emotions. I should be honoured to have won the love of a man like Lynx.

My life would be frightening sometimes perhaps, but exciting.

I could not sleep, and as I lay in the darkness trying to visualize the future, I heard a movement outside my room My heart started to flutter uncomfortably as the door moved silently open. I thought for a moment: It’s the ghost of dead Maybella come to warn me.

I might have known that it would be Jessica. Indeed, she looked like a ghost, with her nightcap tied over her hair which was in steel curlers, her long white flannel nightdress flowing about her and the candle in her hand.

She had come to warn me, I knew.

“Are you asleep?” she asked.

“No. You’ll catch cold wandering about the house like that.”

She shook her head.

“I wanted to speak to you.”

“Sit down and wrap the quilt about you.”

She shook her head. She preferred to stand by the bed holding the candle high. It made her look more like a prophetess of doom than she could have done sitting down.

“So it’s come to this. You’re going to be his wife,” she said.

“There’ll be nothing but disaster.”

“Why should there be?”

“I know it. Maybella came to me in a dream last night. She said: ” Stop it, Jessie. Save that poor young girl. “

“So Maybella had pre-knowledge of the announcement?”

“The dead know these things. Particularly when they don’t rest.”

“Doesn’t Maybella?”

Jessica shook her head.

“She comes back to haunt him. After all, he murdered her.”

“I don’t think you should say that. She died having her son.”

“It killed her and he knew it would.”

I sighed.

“It’s your way of looking at things. I daresay she wanted a son too.”

“And what do you think is going to happen to you?”

“I shall do my best to be a good wife and mistress of the house.”

“He thinks of no one but himself.”

“It’s a common enough human failing ” Clever talk! It makes him laugh. Maybella had none of that. Then there was that woman in England. “

“You should go back to bed,” I said gently.

“You really are going to catch cold if you don’t. “