Cattle Rancher, Secret Son

by Margaret Way

  He lifted her foot higher and pressed his mouth to her high instep. Then he began to lick it, curling his tongue over her soft skin down to her toes.

  “Steven!” A moan came from the back of her arched throat.

  “God, you’re beautiful!” He said it in such a tender voice she couldn’t help it. She burst into tears.

  “Meredith!” His expression so frankly sensual, changed to concern. “You’re all right? You’re okay?”

  She let her head fall forwards onto his shoulder, her breathing deepening. “I’ve missed you. Oh, God, how I’ve missed you! I want you back.”

  “And I want you back.” He rose from his haunches, gathering her close up against him. “Tell me you love me. I’ll never let you go otherwise.”

  She sank against his marvellous lean body, letting his chest hair graze her cheek. The pleasure she felt at being back in his arms was tremendous. “That’s all right! I’m happy here.” She gave a voluptuous sigh, pierced through with love.

  “But I want to take you back to bed. My bed.” His eyes had turned very dark with emotion. “You can’t stay here anyway.”

  She lifted her face to him, blue eyes overbright, her hair in riotous disarray. “You’re saying you want to sleep with me?”

  “That’s not the worst of it. I’m going to!” His gaze travelled down over her smooth shoulders to the cleft between her breasts barely concealed as the pink towel kept dipping lower and lower. “Surely you’re overdressed in that?” he asked huskily.

  Yearning poured into her. She no longer felt the need to deny or repress it. “Can I keep it on while I ask you a question?”

  “Fire away.” He pulled her in very tight, trapping her within his arms. “Ask me anything.”

  It rippled out with laughter. “What are your intentions, Steven Lancaster?”

  He spoke against her lips. “Devilish!” His palms were running down over her silky shoulders, her sides, his fingers playing very gently with the folds of the towel. “Surely you already know? I want you. I’ll never stop wanting you. I want to marry you.”

  She could see so clearly how wonderful that would be. Overcome with emotion, she dropped her head, barely able to speak.

  “Look at me.” He cupped her chin.

  Tremors were shooting through her. She could feel the heat rising from his skin. She caught his musky male scent, the evaporated rain, saw the little pearl drops that still clung to him. She leaned forwards and tongued a few off. They tasted like some powerful aphrodisiac putting her in a fever of want.

  “Would you have come to me if all this hadn’t happened?” he asked. “Or would you have lost your nerve?” It was a serious question demanding a truthful answer.

  Her throat was suddenly crowded with words. Then they came tumbling out as though to withhold them any longer would choke her. “Never. I’m so sorry what happened that last time, Steven. I wanted you to understand so badly. I know you felt I failed you. No, don’t say anything. You did. But I was planning all the while. You stamped your name on me. Body and soul. I swear, I was never going to let you go.” Her nerves were fluttering badly. She lifted her arms to lock them around his neck. “Please believe me.” She was frantic he would. “Nothing and no one would have stoppe—”

  She got no further. The flow of words was as abruptly cut off as the drumming rain.

  His mouth was over hers, covering it, his tongue opening it up fully to his exploration. He kept going and going, thoroughly aroused, kissing her, staggering her with the force of his passion. The towel fell away unheeded, falling in a soft pile at their feet. She strained against him, while he grappled with her satiny naked body, her breasts crushed against his bare chest. For a long moment he held her back from him, studying her body, his glance alone ravishing her. She rose on tiptoes. She had never thought it possible to feel like this. He lifted her as though she weighed no more than a feather pillow.

  Naked he put her down on his bed, leaving his strong hands on her shoulders, revelling in her expression that was wild with longing. For him!

  “From this day forward we’re bound together,” he said in triumph, desiring her so much his entire body throbbed. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself deeply within her feeling the clutch of her around him. He wanted to merge himself with her. All his wildest dreams, his hopes, his expectations, so seemingly impossible had come true. He had made a great discovery. Meredith was the love of his life.

  Blissfully, she sank back into the pillows and shut her eyes.

  When she opened them again, her man, her lover was bending over her, staring down at her with such a world of longing in his eyes her limbs turned liquid.

  She cried out his name in an ecstasy of need. “Steven, my true love, come here to me.”

  He obeyed, awed by the realisation he was about to take this wonderful woman in a way he hitherto had only dreamed about.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LIFE was always dealing out surprises. Almost overnight Jocelyn had undergone a remarkable sea change. The histrionics disappeared. Previously unable and unwilling to conceal her dismay that things were not what she had hoped for, Jocelyn now set about making the best of things. Robbie had a lot to do with it, Gina thought. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind Jocelyn really loved Robbie. He was a beautiful child, his father’s son, of course, natural, easy, comforting and loving with his grandmother. That was the irony of it, Gina thought. If Cal had brought only Robbie and not her back to Coronation Hill, Jocelyn would have been over the moon. As it was, Jocelyn had discovered it wasn’t pleasant being the odd man out. Ewan and Meredith had accepted her. In fact, one would have thought she was the girl Ewan had in mind for his son all along.

  Even Steven Lancaster—the young man Ewan McKendrick had appeared to hate so much—was now very much in the picture. Meredith had come home from the Lancaster stronghold, so happy, so radiant, so obviously very much in love, her imminent engagement to Steven was received with exclamations of congratulations and every appearance of pleasure. Even Jocelyn knew better than to risk a sarcastic comment.

  “Marvellous, isn’t it?” Meredith commented later to her brother. “It seems I’ve done something right at long last!”

  Gina found Robbie in one of his favourite places, the beautiful Garden Room, Jocelyn always called the Conservatory. He was sitting at a small circular table flanked by Rosa and Uncle Ed who had taken over elements of his education. A big picture book was open in front of him, his glossy, dark head bent over it. Rosa saw Gina first.

  “So where are you off to, cara?” Her brilliant dark eyes swept over Gina. She was in riding costume, which pretty well answered the question. It really suited her Rosa saw with pride and pleasure. Her Gina had a beautiful body. She wasn’t so sure about Jocelyn McKendrick as a teacher for her beloved godchild. But it appeared Jocelyn had been a fine rider in her day and still rode, though not as frequently. She had offered to give Gina riding lessons on the quiet. It was to be a big surprise for Cal.

  “Mummy, Mummy,” Robbie broke in excitedly, “Uncle Ed found a book for me all about the planets. Do you know what the word planet means?”

  Gina went to him and kissed his warm rosy cheek. “No, my darling, I don’t. Please tell me.”

  “It means wanderer because the planets wander across the sky.”

  “Well, that’s what the ancient Greeks thought, Robbie,” Ed told him. “In fact, the planets all circle the Sun. They move in the same direction, in much the same plane and each spins on its axis as it orbits.” He demonstrated with a finger and a twirling movement of his hand. “You have a very bright boy here, Gina.” Ed looked up to smile at her. “He just soaks up knowledge. It’s a pleasure for Rosa and me to have anything to do with his education.”

  Rosa reached out and covered Ed’s hand with her own.

  They’ll probably beat Cal and me down the aisle, Gina thought as she moved off. But they’d have to be awfully quick. The wedding invitations had been sent out. It was to be a small
wedding. No more than fifty people. Neither of them wanted a big affair. Each night he came to her. Lying beside her on the bed until she finally went off to sleep, her body wanting nothing more after the tumultuous passion they aroused in each other. Their sex life was glorious. It could hardly have been bettered, but their trust in each other lagged behind. The lost years, the old grieves, the needless suffering, needed time to be erased, before each had full confidence in the other. Both of them desperately required forgiveness of themselves and one another.

  They had decided for Robbie’s sake they wouldn’t openly share a bedroom until after the wedding. Gina couldn’t wait. They had talked about a honeymoon. They didn’t want to leave Robbie. The love between father and son had developed at a tremendous rate. That was Cal’s big problem with her, Gina thought sadly. She had deprived him of his son for three of the most precious years of life. Cal had taken that greatly to heart. She was terrified that deprival might in time be forgiven but never forgotten. What Cal required of her from now on, was her total allegiance.

  She arrived at the stables complex a minute or so late. It was set amidst beautiful trees, with a training yard, almost a small track, enclosed by a high white painted picket fence facing it. Jocelyn, looking very trim and youthful, was waiting for her in the cobbled courtyard. Their horses had been saddled up by one of the stable boys—and there appeared to be quite a number. Gina’s mount was a pretty liver-chestnut mare called Arrola—which meant beautiful in aboriginal—with a star on its forehead and four white sox.

  “Just the horse for a novice like you,” Jocelyn had decided briskly.

  Arrola, who really did have a lovely nature, extended its velvety muzzle to be stroked. Gina made an affectionate, low clicking sound she had learned from Jocelyn that appeared to work. That first time she had prayed she would stay on. She was still praying after half a dozen lessons, but she had settled a good deal. She had to admit Jocelyn was an excellent teacher, very patient, showing no sign of disappointment or disapproval when Gina couldn’t perform as expected. Gina had come to the conclusion—and she was being very hard on herself—she wasn’t a natural as all the McKendricks were and Robbie would prove to be, but she was quickly gaining an acceptable level of expertise. Jocelyn wouldn’t tolerate less.

  Jocelyn always chose the route they would take, always away from where the men would be working. This was to be a surprise for Cal after all. The two of them always rode alongside, Jocelyn constantly offering instruction on some aspect of posture and handling of the reins. Today was a new route along a chain of billabongs densely wooded around the banks. The onset of the monsoon season had brought in a few storms but the earth beneath them was hard, giving Gina a feeling of security and solid leverage. Her leg and thigh muscles didn’t ache half as much as they used to, either.

  After twenty minutes or so, Jocelyn gave the order to quicken the pace. Ahead of them the giant landscape glimmered in the heat. The fragrance of wildflowers tossed up by the storms carried on the wind. In the distance, glittering through the thick screen of trees, some of them covered with scarlet flowers, were the billabongs alive with native birds and maybe the odd crocodile.

  Gina, feeling a rush of excitement, lightly kicked Arrola’s flanks. She was beginning to appreciate how enormously exhilarating a gallop could be.

  Riding up from the stream, Cal heard the drumbeats of hooves before he actually sighted the riders. Then as he cleared the trees a single rider burst into view, billows of dust rising as the rider’s horse galloped out of control. A second rider came hot in pursuit; an expert this time. He recognised his mother’s small frame.

  “God!” he shouted, scarcely able to believe his eyes. Here was a tragedy waiting to happen. Galvanised, he swung into action, squeezing his big bay gelding’s sides hard, urging it up the bank, then into a gallop. It couldn’t be, it shouldn’t be, but it was happening. That was Gina out there and she was in terrible danger. It struck him with tremendous force the devastation he would experience if she were injured. Or worse. He could see she had lost her hat, her long hair streaming on the wind. He recognised the horse. It was the little mare, Arrola, normally such a mild animal. Now it was clearly in a mad panic, galloping wildly towards the line of trees with Gina clinging desperately to its back. Her stirrups appeared to be lost. If she got flung off—and God knows how she was staying on—she would come down in a fearful mass of broken bones. If she managed to stay on, the mare would only continue its crazed gallop on to the trees. There she would have no hope. She would plough into a tree-trunk, or be hit by a large branch, her neck broken, her limbs snapped.

  His heart froze. Why had he held back on telling her how much he loved her? he flayed himself. Why had he continued to blame her for not contacting him when she found herself pregnant? He had the right to know, sure, but why had he wanted to keep punishing her? Maybe she had kept a momentous event secret from him, but she must have suffered carrying their child alone. He had wasted so much time nursing his hurts, instead of trying to let them go. Even when he found out Lorinda and his mother had plotted against them, he had still kept on blaming Gina. She should have come to him. He could have put things straight. She hadn’t trusted him. The grievances had gone on and on.

  Now this?

  There suddenly existed, right out of the blue, the dreadful possibility he might never get to tell her how much he loved her. How desperately he wanted her There had not been enough talk about matters of the heart. He had laboured to hide his very real love for her and he had to bitterly regret that. She could go to her death not knowing. That was unimaginable. No way could he let it happen.

  His mother’s horse, Dunbar, was a splendid animal. It never stumbled. It was eating up the ground but he realised it would never overtake the little mare. The mare must have had a considerable lead he calculated, his heart twisting in pain at the fleeting thought his mother could have been in some way responsible. Even as the thought came into his mind, he rejected it absolutely. His mother had her faults but she would never do anything to harm anyone. Even her efforts to break up his island romance didn’t come under the heading of a malicious act. She and Lorinda would have truly believed, however mistakenly, they were doing the right thing.

  He rode like he had never ridden before, his face blanched with fear and a boiling dread. If there was a God in Heaven, He couldn’t do this to him. To have refound the woman he loved only to lose her to a violent death? How could he survive such a tragedy without undergoing some tremendous alteration in his character?

  He galloped on. A lesser horseman would never have closed in on the runaway so fast. The gelding was wondrously sure-footed in the rough. It didn’t have the speed and power of his favourite stallion, but it was responding magnificently. They were coming at the runaway from an angle, cross country, whereas his mother was pounding straight after them. His mother, too, was in mortal danger, but still she kept going. She would have to get Dunbar under control soon, or she, too, ran the risk of getting pulped amid the wilderness of trees.

  A final powerful surge and he was pulling the big gelding alongside. Immediately it and the little mare began to jostle for supremacy, the tall gelding easily winning out. On Gina’s beautiful face was exhaustion and despair. “Hang in there, Gina!” Cal shouted, finely judging the precise moment to lunge after her reins.

  Please, God, don’t fail me!

  The first line of trees, brilliant with flower loomed up.

  His nerve held iron-hard.

  Got them!

  Now it was a ferocious battle to control two horses. He reined back hard. The gelding responded, the mare just wanted to keep on going as if it had a death wish. Superb horseman that he was Cal had to fight against being pulled from the saddle. Again he yanked back. The little mare was still putting up a mighty fight, hell-bent on hurling herself and her rider into the trees.

  He gave her a bit of head, and then pulled back as violently as he dared without bringing them all down. “Whoa, now, easy, easy
, easy…”

  With the compliance of the gelding, so responsive to his every demand, he got the mare under some sort of control. “Easy, girl, easy!” The mare began to centre herself.

  The thicket was no more than twenty-five yards away.

  Gina fell into his arms, collapsing against him, burying her face against his chest. His strong arms encircled her as though he would never let her go. All his defences, all his efforts to keep his real feelings in check were swept away.

  His mother rode up, her face paper white. “My God, Cal,” she gasped, chest heaving. “Only you could have done it. Gina could have lost her life.” She spoke with the tremendous relief of a person who had seen a horror averted.

  One arm still strongly around Gina, Cal went to his mother’s assistance helping her dismount. There were tears coursing down her face. “My fault, my fault,” she kept saying. “I’m so sorry, son. We wanted it to be a big surprise for you.”

  “Whatever happened?” His mother looked too distraught to really question, but he had to know at least that. Gina was in shock. She was very pale and trembling. So far she hadn’t spoken a word.

  “A bloody kangaroo!” His mother who rarely swore, swore with gusto. Anything to relieve her pent-up feelings. “Gina has been doing so well I thought we could try a little gallop. All would have been well, only the ’roo just popped up in front of her, spooking that silly mare. Spooked good old Dunbar, too, for that matter. He did quite a dance. If Gina had had more experience she could have reined the mare in. Instead Arrola took off as though she was going for the post in the Melbourne Cup. I didn’t know she had it in her. I’m so dreadfully, dreadfully sorry. I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to Gina.” Jocelyn looked into her son’s eyes, frightened.

  “I know that, Mum,” he said gently.

  At his response Jocelyn rallied. “Well, we’d better get her home,” she said, already swinging herself back into the saddle. “A shot of brandy should do it. Some good strong black coffee. Always helped me. I’ll ride ahead. Get one of the men to bring the Jeep. Bear up, Gina, girl,” she called down to Gina in such a bracing voice Gina might just have been blooded. “It’s a miracle you managed to stay on. I can think of any number who would have fallen off.”