He gulped down his pain. “So you’re going to marry Sutherland.”
“Yes, I am. But don’t worry about the dam. I’m certain my fiancé will open the Shotover and sign for the water rights.” Eden glanced to Jock. “Won’t you, darling?”
“Of course, my dear. Anything you want.”
Damon very nearly rammed his fist into the wall, the ache inside him was so intense. Was Eden crazy to marry Sutherland or was she as loathsome as Jock? Perhaps he’d never known her as well as he thought. But all he could do was shake his head in disbelief at this woman who he loved like no other person in the entire world. “Should I kiss the hem of your robe, your ladyship?” Damon jeered, his eyes shooting blue fire slivers at her.
He noticed her hand squeezed the railing until her knuckles turned white. Eden shot him a smile of haughty disdain. “I don’t require your thanks. Good-bye, Mr. Alexander.”
Her very attitude chilled him. God, she was just like Jock! Backing down the stairs, he didn’t stop looking at her. When he reached the bottom, he permitted himself a withering stare. “My condolences to you on your engagement, Mrs. Flynn.”
Jock’s hearty laugh floated over him, and Damon impaled him with a warning glance. “I trust you’ll keep your word about the dam and the water rights.”
“Certainly. I have what I want now.” Jock seemed more than pleased when he showed him the door.
Damon lifted himself onto his horse. The ride back to Thunder Mine passed in a haze of anger and pain.
At High Winds Jock ascended the stairs and helped Eden back to her room. “You did the right thing,” he praised and settled her into bed. “Shall I start the preparations for our wedding? I think early April would be adequate time to give you to regain your strength. Also, I need time to invite my constituents in Wellington.”
“Do whatever you want,” she said icily. “The wedding plans aren’t important to me.”
“Eden, don’t think of going back on your word to me. I will dam up the river and then nothing you say or do will sway me.”
“I won’t go back on my word, Jock,” she spat at him like a venomous reptile. “You knew I’d find out about the dam and you knew I’d agree to marry you to save Thunder Mine. I’ll marry you and we’ll live in Wellington. For all I care, we can be married in Wellington…”
“No,” he disagreed with a smarmy smile. “We’ll be married at High Winds. I want Alexander to know you’re mine, then we’ll move to Wellington.”
Eden shrugged, unable to say anything else. The matter was settled—she’d sold her soul to the devil to save Damon and lost his respect in the bargain.
~~~
“You’ll like Wellington ever so much, Eden. I visited there once with Jock, when he was first elected to Parliament,” Marjorie gushed two days later, after Jock had gone to Kia Ora to personally inform his sister about the marriage. “The houses are set on hills and overlook the harbor. There’s a lovely view from the house Jock owns.”
Eden sat on the porch, her hands lying idly in her lap, while Marjorie crocheted a pretty green-and-blue afghan. She didn’t feel like doing anything; in fact she’d begun to resent Marjorie and the way she constantly espoused Jock’s good points and the wonderful life Eden would lead as Jock’s wife. It was almost as if Marjorie was attempting to convince herself that Jock was truly worthy of that love. But Eden didn’t believe Jock was worthy of any loyalty or love. Now she knew why Marjorie hoped marriage would change Jock. The man was a monster.
“I’ll never love him,” Eden flatly stated. “He’s hateful.”
Marjorie’s needles stopped clicking and she glanced up with tears in her eyes. “I know.”
“Don’t defend him to me any longer.”
“I won’t, but, Eden, if you ever have need of me or Tiku, don’t hesitate to send for us. I know Jock loves you and will make your life tolerable.”
A frustrated sob welled within Eden’s throat. A tolerable life. She’d wanted a brighter future than that. If not for the child growing within her, she’d feel that her life was over. From now on she’d live only for the child, Damon’s child, and hope Damon might forgive her and come to understand why she agreed to marry Jock. Maybe she’d forgive herself for not telling him she carried his baby. But until that time arrived, she must make the best of what life had to offer—even if that meant appeasing Jock Sutherland.
Chapter 22
Eden’s wedding to Jock was fast approaching. The bump on the back of her head had long since gone down and her health was restored. She should feel wonderful, she knew. Soon she’d be Jock’s wife, the envy of any number of women. Eden, however, dreaded her wedding day. But Jock didn’t give her the time to sit and sulk. The last week had been a whirl of social activities in town and at High Winds. They’d taken tea at the house of prominent citizens, attended dances and suppers. Just the previous night High Winds had been the scene of an elegant ball, and the house now echoed with the happy chatter of overnight guests from Wellington.
With Nonnie’s assistance, Eden finished dressing. Her organdy gown was the color of daffodils in a summer meadow, and the high sheer bodice and elbow-length sleeves were trimmed in green satin. The dainty bonnet atop her flame tresses matched the gown, and the satin slippers on her feet were yellow. When Jock knocked on the door, Nonnie handed Eden a frilly lace parasol.
“Beautiful,” Jock complimented her with a large smile and held out his arm to her. He affectionately squeezed her hand. “You’ll do me proud as my wife when we get to Wellington. I’ll be governor in no time.”
Eden couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him. Her face was tired from the false smiles she’d pasted upon it when people were present. Jock knew how she felt about him so there was no point in pretending when they were alone. “One day you’ll love me,” he promised with a slight edge to his voice.
“One day pigs will fly,” she drawled prettily. Seeing his sudden glower, Eden sighed. “I’ll behave myself in front of your friends, Jock.”
“Please do. The secretary-general is watching me and I need his support if I hope to ever be governor. No one must suspect anything is amiss between us. No one,” he emphasized. “Today’s horse race is important to High Winds and to me. For the past twenty years the Sutherland Meet had brought together the people in the Otago. For the good of my family name, a name which shall soon be yours, too, I suggest you put aside your hatred of me. Can you do that for me, Eden?”
Eden realized Jock could have coerced her into behaving properly at the race course today, but for some odd reason he asked her to comply with his wishes. The thought struck her that he hoped to capture her heart with kindness rather than bullying tactics. “I’ll do you proud, Jock.”
A smile twitched beneath his mustache. “I knew you would come around. Everyone is waiting for us to join them on the race course.”
They left the house and went outside, nodding and speaking to their guests and the general populace who streamed into High Winds on foot, by horse or buggy. Jock had told Eden days earlier about the Sutherland Meet. His father had started the annual event, and only the best horseflesh was entered into the race. Each rider who entered wore a favor bestowed upon him by his sweetheart or wife, and the winner’s trophy was always presented by the mistress of High Winds with a congratulatory peck on the cheek. There were very few years when Jock’s father or Jock himself hadn’t won. It was a known fact throughout the Otago that the Sutherland men were excellent horsemen and almost impossible to beat. This year Jock expected to win again, riding a large white stallion named Ice. He grinned at Eden in anticipation when they stopped near the finish line. Since she was to soon be mistress of High Winds, he’d informed her she would present the trophy to the winner. “Of course I shall win,” he said confidently. “I look forward to claiming a kiss from you.”
Eden opened her parasol. Standing next to the secretary-general and his wife she smiled to keep up appearances. “Mr. Sutherland,” the lady proclaimed with a g
rin, “you are a scoundrel.”
“Yes, madam, I admit I am, but I’m also very much in love with my fiancée and I will win today. I couldn’t bear her to kiss any other man.”
“Now you must beg for a favor from your lady,” the secretary-general advised Jock.
“Ah, yes, a favor.” Jock looked directly at Eden. “May I have a favor from you, my love? Something for good luck.”
Eden had been prepared for this and handed him a white lace handkerchief. He grinned and tied it around his wrist. “Now I’m assured of a win.” Jock left to join the other riders.
“Mr. Sutherland is such a fine gentleman,” the secretary-general’s wife praised. “You’re so very lucky to be marrying him, Mrs. Flynn,” she sighed.
“Yes, I am lucky,” Eden agreed, and swallowed the bile rising in her throat to tell such a lie. She didn’t feel lucky, not lucky at all.
Her gaze wandered around the crowd, and she noticed Nick and Joanie with Tom and Miranda Creig. She waved to them, and she knew they saw her, but they didn’t return the acknowledgment, merely looked away. Eden was hurt by the snub, but she should have expected it. No doubt Damon had told them what had happened, and they, too, believed she’d been in league with Jock. But it was because of her that he removed the dam on the Shotover. Didn’t they realize she’d never willingly hurt Damon or Thunder Mine? She colored to imagine what Damon must have said about her. Dwelling on how he must hate her increased her pain and strengthened her resolve to leave the Otago and move to Wellington with Jock.
Marjorie joined them minutes later. Eden noticed how pretty she was in her pale-pink dress, how her cheeks glowed with color. Tiku stood a respectful distance away, but they constantly glanced at each other and smiled. Eden envied Marjorie, who knew in her heart that her love was returned.
“There’s Mr. Alexander with his wife and son,” Marjorie blurted out, then blushed furiously. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Eden, contrition on her face. “I didn’t mean anything…”
“I know, Marjorie. There’s no harm done.” But there was, and not because of Marjorie’s unthinking outburst. Eden hadn’t expected to see Damon at the Sutherland Meet, but there he was across the way, mingling with the Pattersons and the Creigs. Collin was held securely in Damon’s arms and her heart melted to see him affectionately rumple the boy’s hair and notice the genuine love between them—which was as it should be. They were father and son and should love each other.
But then Eden saw Tessa and nearly choked on her own hate for the woman. Tessa looked lovely and was respectably dressed, her arm securely locked in Damon’s. The Alexanders seemed to be a perfect, loving family. Eden wanted to glance away but was unwillingly drawn to the happy scene. She stared in spite of herself, wanting to be the woman beside Damon, aching to rush over to him and convince him she’d known nothing of Jock’s plan. Her heart burst with her love for him and she wanted to confess her pregnancy to him. Would he want her if he knew she carried his child? Would he leave Tessa for her? The hope inside her died when Damon finally caught her eye.
Curtly, he nodded in her direction and impaled her with blue frost. Eden shivered and turned her attention to the couple beside her, pretending she heard something they’d just said. But she heard nothing except the hard pounding of her own heart.
The riders were mounting up, and Jock waved to her. Sitting atop the large white horse dressed in his brown-and-buff riding attire, Jock held himself like a nobleman. The other men, though also from good families and not unattractive, couldn’t compete with him. There was something about Jock that caused people to notice his princely bearing. He was the center of attention until another rider reined in alongside of him.
Eden held her breath to see Damon, seated upon his large black stallion. She remembered the horse, War Dance, was his pride and joy. He’d bragged to her once that he was the fastest horse in Otago, and this year he’d prove it.
Now she knew what Damon had meant. He intended War Dance to win the Sutherland Meet, to beat out every horse, including Jock’s Ice. Especially Jock’s Ice.
From the way Jock’s face resembled chiseled marble, it was apparent to Eden that he hadn’t expected Damon to enter the race. In contempt, his gaze raked Damon’s attire of a plain blue shirt and pants. Jock made a snide comment but Damon only shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
“Isn’t that the man who left Marjorie’s wedding with Mrs. Flynn?” the secretary-general’s wife asked her husband in a loud whisper.
“Uh, yes, my dear, but please…” His reply to his wife was lost within the titters behind Eden.
“Ignore everyone,” Marjorie begged Eden.
Eden gave a tiny laugh of assurance that she didn’t care what people said and wasn’t hurt by their knowing winks. But everyone knew what had happened between herself and Damon and nothing could change the past. Her hands clung to the stem of her parasol and she wished to lower it in front of her face. Would this horrendous race ever be over?
Finally the riders took their places and the secretary-general went forward with a pistol in his hand and discharged it when the crowd grew quiet. The horses took off from the starting point with lightning speed. Their hooves dug up the earth, leaving clumps in their wake. Raised voices urged on the riders, people were still betting on the winner. It seemed the competition between Damon and Jock transferred to the crowd, for the other riders were forgotten when both riders moved to the front of the line.
“Sutherland!” someone exclaimed.
“Alexander!” another proclaimed.
“Come on, Ice!”
“Rush to it, War Dance!”
And so it went. As they made their way into the turn, Eden lost sight of them. Her loyalty was for Jock, but her love for Damon, and she dreaded the moment one of them crossed the finish line. Please let someone else win, she silently prayed.
“Here they come!” Marjorie shouted, jumping up and down.
Thundering hooves brought Damon and Jock into view. Jock was in front, his body hunched low as he whipped the horse ever forward. Damon was coming up fast behind him, and it seemed Jock was going to win. But in the twinkling of an eye, Damon allowed the horse his head. Horse and rider surged forward like an ebony-and-blue streak. The crowd went wild, their cheers deafening as War Dance took the lead and crossed the finish line before Ice.
Within the din that followed, Marjorie pressed a hand on Eden’s arm. “You must present the trophy to the winner,” she reminded with a wan smile.
“Yes, I must,” she mumbled and took the secretary-general’s arm as he led her to the winner’s circle.
For the moment everyone was watching Damon, congratulating him as he trotted the horse toward her. But Jock watched from the sidelines, not a flicker of an eyelash betraying his feelings. Eden knew he was nearby, yet her perverted gaze drank in Damon’s handsomeness and she attempted to hide her pride at his win. He mustn’t know how she felt, she mustn’t embarrass Jock in front of his friends and the people here. She’d simply present the trophy to Damon and that would be it. After today she’d never have to see him again or be subjected to people’s scrutiny and less than kind comments.
Closing her parasol, she picked up the trophy and waited for Damon to dismount. He slid off of War Dance and bridged the distance between them with three large strides until he was on the platform beside her. His towering presence and the many curious eyes trained upon them caused her to falter. She didn’t know if she could speak, her throat was so dry. But Jock stared at her, and she sensed he waited to see her reaction. Gathering her wits about her, she held out the gold trophy to Damon and congratulated him in a voice that sounded detached and unemotional.
His fingers brushed hers when he took it from her, and he waited expectantly. Why didn’t he leave the platform? she wondered. What was he waiting for?
“I believe the winner deserves a kiss,” he said to her and grinned.
“Oh, yes, you do.” Her face was horribly warm and she knew her cheeks mus
t be red. She swallowed and lifted herself onto her toes to reach the side of Damon’s face. She dutifully pecked his cheeks, and found herself trembling when she finished. But Damon’s eyes flared, and without her realizing what was happening, he jerked her to him.
“You can do better than that, Mrs. Flynn.”
His mouth, warm and moist, descended upon hers, drowning out her words of protest. Damon’s kiss deprived her of breath, but she didn’t fight him. Instead, her body melted into him and began to respond the instant he touched her. She hadn’t a clear idea if the kiss lasted two seconds or two minutes. When he broke away, her knees were shaking and she was pale.
“Thank you, Mrs. Flynn,” he said in a husky, suggestive tone which rushed the blood to her face. And then he left her standing there until Jock took her by the elbow and led her away from the silent, stunned crowd.
“My fiancée is recovering from an illness,” she heard him explaining to someone. “The heat is wretched and has made her ill.”
Somehow, though she didn’t remember the walk, they were inside the cool house and she was sitting on the sofa. Jock plunged his hands into his jacket pockets and gazed out of the window. It was some time before he spoke to her. “You humiliated me.”
Eden became aware of him at last. She shook her head to drive out the image of Damon’s face, but the feel of his kiss still clung to her mouth. Without meaning to, she had humiliated Jock and herself. If only she hadn’t responded to Damon, but from the very first second she’d looked up from the ground at the man atop her all those months ago in Queenstown he had mesmerized her. Jock was hurt and embarrassed, as was she. Damon had meant to humiliate her and he’d done an admirable job.
Eden rubbed her head with her hand. “You saw what happened, Jock. Damon overpowered me.”
“And you liked it very much. Admit it.” He turned from the window. “Every damn person in the Otago knows how much you liked it!”
Lynette Vinet Page 25