Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor

by Rue Allyn

  When Yaraay translated his words to the Dharug natives, their hysterical laughter hung in the air long after they disappeared over the ridge.

  They travelled back slowly to allow both William’s and Electra’s physical wounds a chance to heal. But more importantly, Yaraay and Waruu had convinced William that time in the bush would ease Electra’s troubled mind and bring her back to herself.

  They were partly right. After a week, the tortured look in her eyes had faded and she showed interest in the plants and animals the native women pointed out. But there were many times he found her sitting alone on a rock or cross-legged on the ground, rocking her body, with her arms wrapped around herself. Perhaps she mourned the part of her she had lost that night. He had to fight the urge to gather her in his arms and make the pain go away. But the look in her eyes the first time he tried was like a fist in his stomach. He was a man and it was men she feared.

  Thank God, she had survived — survived starvation, torture, and the constant threat of rape. Even after their cruel treatment, it had still taken such courage and desperation to take Critchley’s life. And when it was done, it seemed she had nothing left.

  Silence seemed to be her most comfortable state so the small group communicated with touches, gestures, and minimal speech. Yaraay mixed nameless potions each day. To calm the mind, Billy said, and Electra received them wordlessly.

  Once William came upon her kneeling at a stream, filling her water container. He stepped in to help, slipped on a rock, and fell on his backside, wetting himself to the waist. There was a look in her eyes as he splashed awkwardly in the stream: amusement and a spark of the old fire. Then just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone and the veil dropped again.

  On another occasion, he watched her slender back as she bent to pick a wildflower, her long curls tumbling carelessly over her shoulder. It was hard to imagine all was not normal. But even in those moments of tranquillity, he knew he could never erase from his mind the sight of Callum carrying her still form, covered in Critchley’s blood, into the clearing.

  The long, silent days in the bush gave William plenty of time for thought too. His mind turned back to his daughter, Isabele. His daughter. It sounded so unfamiliar. Each time he said it in his mind, a dizzying sense of elation pulsed through his body. He knew now why the child had become so important. A father cannot help but recognise his own child, if even subconsciously. But with the elation came the dilemma of what to do about Charlotte. It was clear the woman had no great affection for Isabele but she would not hesitate to use the child for her own means. She already had. All he could do for the moment was get Electra home safely and then deal with the matter of keeping his daughter.

  Thoughts of Isabele turned his attention to the child Electra carried. The child she had been too fearful to share with him. And now it seemed as if she had wiped the child’s existence from her memory. He longed to share with her his excitement, his expectations for its future, or just to hold his hand over her belly, feel the tiny life that throbbed within. He sighed. He still had no answers.

  Yaraay heard his sigh and looked over, a frown on her face. He looked pointedly at Electra and back at Yaraay and shook his head. She patted his arm in sympathy and trotted ahead to join the other two women.

  • • •

  Electra felt like she was swimming through mud. Something terrible had happened but she couldn’t quite remember what it was. She knew William was trying desperately to reach out to her and she tried, how hard she tried, to let him know none of it was his fault. But each time she got close to breaking through, she was sucked back into a dark void, empty of emotion.

  She found herself avoiding William and seeking instead the company of Yaraay and Waruu. Their calm acceptance of her state of mind felt safe and comfortable. William wanted more of her but she just couldn’t give it. Not yet. It was easier to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and to watch the women as they gathered food for the group and medicines to treat their injuries.

  Before long, the plants the women gathered became more familiar to Electra. The food and the medicines they prepared etched themselves on her memory and soon she was delighting them by gathering plants of her own accord. This kept her occupied and was easier than acknowledging the dark cloud hovering at the edge of her mind.

  When they neared Riverside, it was time for the Pretty Creek natives to say goodbye and return to their camp. Electra experienced a wretched loneliness as the women hugged her and trotted on foot into the bush. Soon it would just be her and William.

  A shout from behind alerted them to Callum’s departure as he cut across the farm to his cottage.

  • • •

  Callum was physically and emotionally spent. Each pounding hoof beat sent searing pains through his chest. The fight with Critchley had cracked at least two ribs and he still carried large, yellow bruises on his face and body. Despite his burning desire to be home, he reined in his horse as soon as the cottage came into view. He wanted to see her before she saw him.

  The realisation of how close he had been to never seeing Shelagh again only hit when he left the others and struck out for home. There had never been another woman for him from the moment he laid eyes on her twenty years before. Why she had chosen a rough, ugly bastard like himself over all the others had never ceased to amaze him. He often wondered if she ever regretted her choice, especially after losing Iain and there being only the two of them.

  As he watched from the hillock above the cottage, she appeared round the side, heading toward the vegetable garden, Dante at her side as usual. Her long dark hair, now with thin streaks of silver, was pulled into a rough knot at the base of her neck. He imagined the two of them later in bed after the telling was done, when he would loosen the magnificent hair and bury his face and hands in its thickness. Then he would know he was home. And only then could he erase the events of the past weeks.

  As large and strong as he appeared, she had always in truth been the strong one. Even from this distance, he could see the iron determination in her chin as she stooped to collect greens for her dinner. To him she was as beautiful today as the day he had met her and by God, how he needed her. A gust of wind billowed her skirts and her girlish laughter, as she pressed them down, carried on the breeze to where he watched.

  Some instinct made her turn and look in his direction. Her hand flew to her mouth; she dropped the tools, picked up her skirts and ran, calling his name. Callum urged the horse forward and galloped toward her, sliding off and into her arms without waiting for the horse to halt.

  “Callum, my love, my love. I was so feared for your life,” she wept, cradling his big head in her hands and covering his face with kisses. “Is the wee lass safe? What happened? How did ye find her? Was it Murphy?” He winced as she squeezed his girth. “Ye’re hurt aye? Oh, tell me what happened and let me see to your injuries.”

  • • •

  Two hours and four mugs of whisky later, Callum had told her everything. There was nothing more she could do for his injuries that Yaraay and Waruu had not already done but the whisky dulled the pain nicely. The horror of the events he recounted had left her speechless apart from the barely stifled sobs that issued forth from her as he spoke.

  “Dear God, the poor wee thing. What courage must it have taken for her to survive it at all? And the wean, please tell me she didna’ lose it?” she pleaded.

  “By some great miracle, she carries it still,” he said, stroking her face. “And the lassies from Pretty Creek nursed her like angels. We’d never hae found her or beaten Murphy and his scum without them all, aye?”

  Shelagh sucked in a sharp breath and leapt from her chair. “Where are they? Where are Billy and his family?”

  “Ah, they’ve gone home, lass, home to their children. Why? You’re as white as a ghost.”

  “Oh Callum, they havena’ a home.” She slumped back into the chair.

  “What is it ye’re sayin’, Shelagh?

  “It’s Lieuten
ant Cameron. He’s done something dreadful.”

  • • •

  As Will rode toward the western boundary, he saw clouds of dust coming toward him as Callum and Shelagh headed for the main house.

  “So you’ve heard about Pretty Creek?” yelled William as they all reined in their horses.

  “Aye, and I want to murder the bastard,” answered Callum. “Are ye headin’ that way now Will?”

  “I am. I want to offer them some land at Riverside to rebuild their camp, or if they won’t leave Pretty Creek, I’ll give them whatever assistance they need.” He turned to Shelagh. “Shi Liang gave a garbled account of Cameron’s despicable attack. He said you’d given shelter to Thulumaay and the children, Shelagh. Thank you for your kindness and thank God they’re all alive.”

  Shelagh shook her head, her mouth set in a thin line. “I was out near the boundary when I heard the shots. Tom and I grabbed two of the lads and headed toward the noise. We had only just pushed into the denser bush when Thulumaay burst out and ran toward me with the bairns, all screaming in fear.”

  “Have ye heard what was behind it, Will?” asked Callum.

  “That half-wit Cameron convinced members of the Corps the blacks at Pretty Creek helped Murphy in the kidnapping. It mattered not a bit that they were helping us track Murphy down. Cameron’s brain couldn’t add that into the equation,” said William.

  “Or he didna’ want to add it in, aye?” muttered Callum.

  William turned back to Shelagh. “Would you mind going back to the house and staying with Electra? I didn’t want to leave her so soon after returning but knew she wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t fetch Billy and his family.”

  “Aye, of course. And I willna leave her side until ye return,” answered Shelagh, already turning her horse toward the house.

  William was grateful for Shelagh. He knew Charlotte would be no help to Electra. Isabele had wanted to go with him when, after hearing the news of Pretty Creek, he had directed the stable lad to resaddle his horse. He had held her against him until she wriggled with impatience and given her the important task of watching over Electra with Shelagh while he was gone. As he rode out toward the western boundary, he smiled at the image of his daughter waving both hands and jumping in the air, as if that would make him see her from further away.

  William and Callum dismounted and walked toward the clearing. William’s eyes watered and his throat closed at the acrid smell of the burnt huts and beside them, the burnt remains of the two camp dogs. Stores of food had been kicked into the dirt and burnt together with any other possessions kept in the huts.

  There was a movement to William’s left and he saw Yaraay poking with a stick in the burning embers, trying to retrieve two carved wooden bowls. The four children squatted in the dirt, wide eyed with grief and fear as they watched their family attempting to rescue from the ashes the remnants of their lives. Somehow, Thulumaay had known the others were back and had returned from Riverside, appearing at the camp with the children minutes after Billy and the others arrived.

  In deference to their loss, William and Callum stood on the outskirts of the camp, eyes lowered until the silent native men nodded and beckoned them forward.

  Billy walked over and put his hand on William’s shoulder. “It’s orright, boss. Them soldyas bin want make trouble for long time. Look, we alive, eh?”

  William closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “I will speak to the governor, Billy. We will write to the king if we have to. This is outrageous. Those soldiers will pay for this and I won’t rest until they do.”

  “Ah, boss, you make trouble for them soldyas, they make bigfella trouble for us blackfellas. Better we quiet, eh?”

  William’s body was tense with anger at what had been done to his friends and to make matters worse, he knew Billy was right. His impotence fuelled his rage and he had to walk away. He watched as Callum, ever practical, began clearing up the debris and moving it away from the clearing with the women and Bulanggi working beside him. When his anger had ebbed, he walked back to the group to find Billy still watching him.

  “Billy, I want you all to move to Riverside. You can build another camp and we can put a fence around it and make sure those soldiers don’t get anywhere near you or your family without someone seeing them. You’ll all be safe in there.”

  Billy’s face did not change as he listened to William’s proposition. Then he turned to the others, jabbering in language back and forth until they all seemed satisfied with the discussion.

  “That real kin’ boss, but we blackfellas no good lock up inside bigfella fence. Don’ worry, we find ‘im new place. Better even than this one, eh?” As he spoke he translated to the others who nodded at his words.

  William felt a lump form in his throat at Billy’s words. “But what can we do? There must be something we can do to help.”

  Billy grinned. “You any good build ’im blackfella house boss? Make ’im spear?”

  “I can learn, Billy. Show me how,” said William.

  Billy told the others what had just been said and Yaraay jabbered in response, hands on her hips.

  “Nar, boss, Yaraay tell ’im you go home make Missus good ’gen. She big worry you make ’im spear,” he said, laughing at the look on William’s face.

  This caused the others to double over with laughter while Bulanggi pranced around in a circle parodying a top-heavy spear that kept missing its mark.

  William and Callum worked until near dark, by which time all signs of Cameron’s destruction had been either buried or removed from the old campsite. The four men built the new camp on the other side of the creek, mostly hidden by dense bush. They constructed three bark shelters and dug a fire pit, surrounded by stones. With the blankets, food, and bowls William had brought with him, Billy and his family had all they required.

  As he and Callum rode for home, William’s thoughts turned back to Electra. He felt so ill-equipped to help her. At least there had been practical ways to help Billy and his family. With Electra, he was at a complete loss.

  He needed help.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You’re clever in the ways of women, Susanna. What can I do?” asked William.

  “Since seeing her the other day, I must admit I have had nothing else on my mind,” answered Susanna, pausing to sip her tea. “I have an idea, but I predict you will think it ridiculous.”

  “I am a desperate man. I just want my wife back.”

  “We need to appeal to that strong, fiery woman we all knew, who will fight to protect what is hers,” said Susanna.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I recall a conversation with Electra some time ago regarding a certain Caroline Cartel, who she believed had set her cap at you.”

  William closed his eyes and shook his head dismissively. “Utter rubbish. She imagined the whole thing. Besides, the woman was a twit.”

  “She might be a twit but she is also willing to help. As soon as the idea took shape in my mind, I sought her out.”

  “Good heavens, Susanna, I don’t want the woman knowing my business. Or Electra’s,” he snapped.

  “Do you want my help or not, William?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Yes, yes. Go on, humiliate me further.”

  She smiled and put her teacup onto its saucer. “We have to stir her emotions enough to make her break through whatever barrier she has made for herself. Now I happen to know that she loves you desperately, and I would wager making her properly jealous might just do the trick.”

  He listened to her plan with growing apprehension but then he expected nothing less from the provocative Lady Percy.

  • • •

  Four days later, William sought out his wife and found her in the sitting room, staring at the book on her lap. He touched her on the shoulder and she turned to him, her face expressionless.

  “Electra, I’d like you to join me for tea this afternoon. I’ve invited George Cartel and his sister, Caroline. I thought some company
might cheer you up. Charlotte won’t be here, she has a prior engagement.”

  She looked up at him. “Oh. If you like,” and turned back to the book.

  He shook his head. This wasn’t going to work, she didn’t care about anything.

  As he walked back down the hallway, he heard running footsteps and Isabele grabbed the back of his shirt.

  “Uncle Will?”

  His heart contracted at the continued farce of being her brother. “Yes, little wombat.”

  She giggled at the pet name he had been calling her since her delight at being shown the strange little animal by Callum. “I think mama has a gentleman friend. And I think she’s going to marry him.”

  William stopped so suddenly, Isabele walked straight into his back and squealed, rubbing her nose. He took a short, sharp breath as the pain on his still raw back ricocheted up his spine. It took him a moment to respond. “What did you say?” he demanded.

  “Are you sure you didn’t hear me, Uncle Will? You stopped very quickly.”

  He rolled his eyes at her astuteness. “What on earth makes you think she has a gentleman friend? And more importantly, how do you know?”

  “Well, you know how very cross she usually is?” William grinned and nodded. “She got a letter and smiled for a long time after reading it and then even said something nice to Annie.”

  “Goodness me, that must have been some letter,” said William.

  “Please don’t get cross with me, Uncle Will, but I was very curious, and when she left the room I read some of it.” She took a deep breath and watched his face.

  “You know that is a very bad thing to do, don’t you?” Isabele bobbed her head. “However, I find I am just as curious as you so get on with it. Tell me what was in the letter.”

  She exhaled with relief. “It was from Lord Baines.” William looked at her questioningly. “She calls him Stanley. He came to visit quite a lot when Papa first died but I don’t think he liked me.” William raised one eyebrow. “Well, I suppose I wasn’t very nice to him.” She bit her lip and peeped through lowered eyelids at William. “He had a nasty thin mouth and thought himself very important. Mama was not happy with me and then he stopped coming. That’s when we packed our bags and came to Australia.”