by Kris Pearson
*
Christian stood looking down at her.
Tuesday, he thought, gut clenching.
They could both be dead by Tuesday. Dead from exhaustion or regret or recriminations. Or so desperate at the prospect of parting it would be as cruel as death, anyway.
He picked up another little foil packet and held it out toward her.
“We’ll worry about Tuesday when it rolls around, Blondie. Saddle me up now, and then you can ride.”
He breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Fiona chose to accept the challenge of his out-thrust hand and ignored the shadows he knew must lurk in his eyes.
*
Later that morning he watched as she balanced Nicky on her hip and peered into the sunlit car he’d taken out of the garage so they could more easily stow everything inside.
“Is that the lot?” she asked. “Suntan lotion, rugs, drinks, nappies, swimsuits...”
“Got mine on.”
“Toys? Do we have enough?”
“We’re a traveling circus,” he complained in mock-despair.
“Sun umbrella? Hats?” she suggested.
“This should do us until lunchtime. I told Antoine that we’d call in for some of that risotto you liked so much last night. A tubful to bring back and share on the terrace.”
“You’ll spoil me for ship’s food.”
“That’s the general idea. I want you here, not half a world away.”
He cupped her face up and dropped a lingering kiss on her lips while she was unable to escape.
“MommaJan?” a small voice piped.
They broke apart.
“You shouldn’t kiss me in front of her,” Fiona remonstrated. She looked down at her niece. “No darling— MommaJan’s not here.”
“It’s Fiona,” Christian said. “You’ll get used to me kissing her, won’t you? Here’s one for you, too.” He lifted Nicky’s small hand and blew a tickly raspberry into her palm so she giggled and shrieked.
“Yona,” Nicky agreed, snuggling closer to Fiona whose face reflected all too clearly her feelings of guilt.
He sighed as he looked at them. It tore at his heart to see his daughter suffering like this. She’d lost her mother only a few weeks ago and was still far from settled. Lost Kathy, who’d seemed such a good choice but lasted hardly any time at all. Now she was cuddling up to Fiona—and Fiona would be gone in another few days.
Once again, she’d be deserted by the mother-substitute in her life. He had to do better by his tiny daughter—better than a woman who was leaving, better than a woman who might carry the same deadly disease as Jan. The thought of going through the terrible cycle of discovery, fear, hope, and eventual loss was too much to put Nicky through... too much to put himself through again.
So it would be five days of joy for them all, followed by a wrenching separation and the slow acceptance of a future without each other.
His frustrated sigh joined a gust of salty breeze from the nearby ocean. He opened the rear door and held it against the wind so Fiona could secure Nic in her safety-seat.
My beautiful girls.
Nicky wore blue shorts and a white T-shirt with a line of blue-and-silver fish printed on the front; Fiona white shorts and a strappy blue sun-top that showed off her clear golden tan. Two blondes in blue and white.
Fiona turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Helping, are you?” she asked.
Yep, I could be more useful than leaning on the door, enjoying the view, while you struggle with my wriggly daughter.
“Want me to clip her in?” he asked.
“She’s pretty lively this morning.”
“We’ll see if we can tire her out then,” he said, stroking Fiona’s rump while she leaned into the car.
“Not in front of the children,” she grinned, backing out so he could take over.
The children. Nicky and a couple more from Fiona. A real family.
He tried to banish the too-vivid scenario as he secured Nicky in the seat and made sure she had the cuddly pink puppy Fiona had given her for Christmas.
“You want kids?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Nic as he closed the car door.
“She’s good practice.”
Which didn’t exactly answer his question.
Maybe she doesn’t? She has a job she loves, with travel perks and luxurious surroundings and plenty of glitzy company. Why would she want to trade that for a moody widower and a fractious child?
Fiona had seated herself in the car by the time he’d walked around to the driver’s side. He tallied up the points against her.
Leaving on Tuesday.
To a job she wouldn’t want to give up.
Didn’t seem to crave children.
Maybe the same risk as Jan for breast cancer.
He grimaced as pulled the car door open, sat, and fired up the engine.
“We’re off to the river, Nicola Jane,” he said with false cheerfulness as he reversed onto the private driveway that led to Pounamu Lodge. “Do you remember the river from last time?”
He drove past the Lodge, over a rattling cattle-stop, and turned onto the unsealed farm road running through part of Pounamu Estate. They bumped gently along past the paddocks.
“Sheep!” Nicky squealed from her elevated perch on the child safety seat. The grazing sheep lifted their heads to stare at the passing car but soon resumed eating.
“Sheep, Dadda,” she squealed again, blue eyes wide with delight.
“Baa-a-a-a...” Fiona contributed.
“Maaaaa,” Nic copied.
“Baa-a-a-a,” Fiona replied. “Come on, Chris, join in.”
“Baa-a-a-a...” he muttered with a deep lascivious tone. “The mating call of the rutting ram. That what you had in mind?”
Fiona doubled over with laughter for a few seconds and then her bright eyes found his.
“The rutting ram? Are you?”
“After last night, hell yeah. Baa-a-a-a,” he bellowed again with greater volume. “Ready any time ‘ewe’ are, Blondie.”
Suddenly they were both snorting with laughter, enjoying the silly moment, and his mood lightened.
Why was he looking for what he couldn’t have? Right now she was here with him, in his life, in his bed at last. That would have to be enough. “Unless you’d rather have a whole lotta rampant stallion?” he asked, adding a fierce suggestive neigh.
“Horsie!” Nic yelled, which only increased their hilarity.
“Okay in the back there, Nic?” he asked when he’d stopped laughing enough to speak again.
He checked the rear view mirror. His little girl had caught their relaxed mood and was smiling happily, clutching her pink dog, staring back at him like a naughty angel. “Going to show Auntie Fee how well you swim?”
“She doesn’t, does she?”
“Goes in the water all the way up to her ankles if you’re lucky.”
Fiona grinned and nodded. “A real mermaid, then.”
*
The river twinkled through the trees. Christian slowed to a crawl and steered the car in under the shady green canopy of a weeping willow. Long feathery streamers of leaves brushed past the windows. Nicky crowed with delight.
Fiona glanced over her shoulder at her niece and felt her heart twist, knowing it should be Jan sitting beside Christian on this lovely day.
Fate had robbed her sister of so much. Jan would never see her precious daughter grow into a beautiful girl and an accomplished woman.
Never again feel the warmth of her husband’s love.
Never return to the amazing cliff-top house she’d transformed into such a welcoming and distinctive home.
Fiona had thought her tears for Jan were almost under control all these weeks later, but suddenly the tell-tale prickling behind her eyes and painful constriction in her throat hit her yet again. She blinked rapidly as hot moisture welled up and threatened to spill down her cheeks. How could her mood change from cheerful to utterly desolate in just seconds?
She
unclipped her seatbelt the instant Christian had braked, then pushed her door open and stepped out, hoping for enough privacy to regain her serenity.
“It’s wonderful,” she called, praying her voice was steady. She took a few steps toward the river. All around her, the willow fronds swished and rustled in the breeze. The sun filtered through in brilliant shafts.
She wiped a quick forefinger under each eye, summoned up a smile, and turned back.
“We could make a waterfall, Nic,” she suggested as Christian released Nicky from her seat harness and set her on the rough grass. “Shall we do that while Daddy goes fishing?”
“Hold up, Nic—sunhat!” he called as his daughter toddled away from him.
Bending low to avoid the long streamers of leaves, they each took one of her soft little hands and ambled down onto the riverbed. The floods of winter were long gone; now big areas of shingle and stones baked in the midsummer heat. Nicky stumbled along between them, determined to manage the uneven ground on her own until Christian scooped her up and distracted her.
“Look Nic—see the pretty bird?” he asked, pointing to a vivid blue-green kingfisher. They walked on a little further.
Water trickled through the shingle in several small ribbons. On the far side, deep in the shadow of overhanging trees, it flowed faster and darker.
“Is that where you’ll fish?” Fiona asked.
“For all the good it’ll do. I imagine having you and Nic splashing about will spook anything that might be lurking.”
“No fish for dinner then?”
“You’ll be full of risotto from lunch.”
“So I will. Brought your fishing coat?”
“Need your hair washed, do you?”
She caught his wide smile and nodded. “Need lots of things attended to.”
“Ready and willing,” he murmured, sliding his free hand around her waist and pulling her closer as they crunched along in the brilliant sunshine. She laid her face against his shoulder and smiled up at him.
“Did you think last night would ever happen?” she asked, knowing she had nothing to lose now by asking.
“Hoped. Didn’t dare to hope. Never seriously expected.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Hoped some more. Felt I was about due for a miracle after the pain of losing Jan.”
Her heart lurched at his honesty.
“Did you know it would be me?”
“It was always you, Blondie. Too soon, too fast, but always you. Even when it seems impossible, a man’s got to go after what he wants.”
She closed her eyes at that, trusting him to keep her from falling.
After a few more steps she opened them again as she felt him pause at the first of the shallow waterways.
“Just about here would be good for us, wouldn’t it Nic? Shall Daddy put you down?”
Christian complied and Nic bent over, picked up a stone, and threw it into the tricking stream with a gleeful squeal.
“Go and get your fishing gear. We’ll be safe and out of your way here,” Fiona said, pushing off her shoes and squatting down beside her niece. “Want your shoes off too, Nic?”
Nicky pushed out her bottom lip and looked doubtful.
“Okay, you stay there for a bit but I’m going paddling.”
*
When Christian returned with his fishing gear, Fiona stood ankle-deep in water, piling up smooth river-stones to make a miniature dam. Nicky’s contribution was to select occasional debris and pitch it into the water where it made very satisfactory splashes. Fiona’s white shorts looked decidedly damp around their hems.
He dropped a couple of towels onto the ground and tossed the car-keys on top of them.
“In case you need them before I’m back. Looks like you’ll end up wetter than me.”
“A definite possibility,” she agreed as Nic squealed and hurled a pinecone and the spray flew up yet again.
After an hour of standing on the far riverbank with barely a nibble, he packed his gear away and strode back toward the car. The sun now rode high in the sky, and Fiona had spread two picnic blankets in the shade of the willow. On one, Nic drowsed, curled up and clutching her pink puppy. On the other, Fiona sprawled in her blue sun-top and a lacy coffee-colored thong. Her wet shorts flapped from a nearby bush.
Christian’s gaze travelled from her peachy toenails all the way up her long legs to her tiny panties. The injury to her knee had left a livid crescent-shaped scar that made his eyes skid to a halt halfway.
He hated seeing it. It was his fault—he should have taken better care of her—somehow protected her from the accident that had so nearly killed her. Why in hell had he let her go anywhere near that weakened beam in the garage?
She opened her eyes and blinked a couple of times, as languid as a cat snoozing in the sun. Something hit him hard in the chest.
Mine. Mine to love. Mine to protect.
His tiny daughter and the woman he’d always wanted, both looking so vulnerable and in need of his care.
“Catching up on sleep?” he asked, voice husky with unspoken suggestions.
“Someone kept me awake most of last night.”
His mouth curled with the memory. “Yeah, and he’s going to do the same tonight.”
“Is that a promise?” she asked, lifting her arms above her head in a long fluid stretch that started at her fingertips and rippled down the whole length of her body.
He watched her relax again. Just the sight of her moving so sensuously sent blood rushing south to stir his groin into potent readiness. “You really think I could keep away from you after a night like that?”
“Not in our private world,” she said, lifting one hand in a vague all-encompassing gesture. “It’s perfect for just a few days, but that’s all it can be.”
His heart constricted, and he tried to shove the sensation to one side and cover the moment with a flippant comment. “Not quite perfect—the fish weren’t biting. Let me get rid of my gear.”
With half an eye on Nicky, he set his rod and bag beside the car and peeled off his white T-shirt and old wet trainers. Then he lowered himself over Fiona and brushed his lips past the scar on her knee.
Her breath hitched, and he felt her hand touch his hair. Soon her nails scraped gently against his scalp as her fingers curled in reaction to his kisses.
“I hate to see where you got hurt because of me,” he murmured as he progressed up her thigh.
“Scars fade.”
“Some of them.”
“Not scars of the heart though?”
“Not so easily.” He slipped a finger under the edge of her thong and grinned as she bucked up against his hand and protested in a furious whisper.
“Stop it! Someone will see.”
“Not a chance. There’s no-one for miles.”
“Nicky’s right here.”
“And sound asleep.”
He pulled the elastic aside and ran his tongue over her hot flesh.
She gasped, and grabbed at his hair to tug him away. He enjoyed her grunt of annoyance as her fingers slid out of the short strands.
“Summer hair-cut. Too short for you to get much of a grip on, Blondie. You’re really asking for it now.”
He pushed a thigh between hers to hold her down, and eased his swim-shorts out of the way.
“What if Nicky sees?”
“Stay quiet and she won’t.”
God, she was a turn-on in that tiny scrap of coffee-colored lace! His good intentions to wait until nightfall deserted him in an instant, but the condoms were all in the cottage because he seriously hadn’t expected this.
“You on the pill?” he demanded.
“Yes, but—” she protested, wriggling against him as his cock glided between her thighs. “People might be looking...”
“No other people, Blondie. Just us in this big private green cave.” He yanked the edge of her panties sideways and nudged inside her.
She fought him every fraction of the way, but with a smile on her lips and stif
led giggles. Finally he’d invaded to full depth and collapsed down onto her, pinning her in place against the rug. The bruised grass beneath them smelled herby and cool. The breeze rushed quietly through the willow fronds. Distant birds called to each other out in the sunshine. And all he could think was ‘mine’.
Chapter Seventeen—Desertion
Christian’s grip on her loosened. She stopped her struggling. “Pitiful, isn’t it,” she whispered. “One kiss on the knee and I’m totally turned-on for you.”
“I did a bit more than that.”
“Not much. You didn’t need to, damn it...”
She turned her head to check on Nic, and thrilled as Christian brushed his lips down her neck, seeking out the sensitive places that had made her writhe and whimper the night before. Seeing Nic safely asleep, she relaxed a little.
“You giving in now?” he asked.
She sought his eyes and nodded.
“You’re too strong to fight off,” she teased, pushing her hips up and tightening her internal muscles around him.
“Oh yeah—that feels like fighting me off all right,” he agreed, settling his mouth over hers in a luscious leisurely exploration. When he finally lifted away he added, “If you really hadn’t wanted me Blondie, I’d have stopped. You do know that?”
“Of course I know that. Did it feel like I seriously objected?”
He stopped her query with a smile and another deep kiss. Then he began to move in long deliberate strokes. She caught her breath and pushed up at him each time he thrust, falling easily into the perfect rhythm he set. Her hands slid over his warm back, pulling him closer. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, skin against skin, sensation upon sensation.
“Am I too heavy for you on this hard ground?” he demanded, sliding a hand under her and tilting her up against him so she gasped at the deep penetration.
To Fiona he felt wonderful—possessive and male and territorial. This was serious claiming, total domination.
“I like your weight on me.”
“But am I too heavy?”
“No, you’re fine.” She gasped and panted as heat rushed everywhere, and her deep muscles started to clench and twitch in a wild trembling dance. An exultant cry burst from her throat.
Christian stifled the sound of her ecstasy with a fierce kiss, and held her and rocked her until she was quiet again. Only then did he move faster, hauling her so close as his own climax hit that Fiona felt the violent hot pulses of his release deep inside her.