Storms Over Blackpeak

by Holly Ford

  Carr’s arms closed around her waist.

  Lizzie caught her breath as the sky above Glencairn flared white. ‘Did you see that?’

  ‘Sheet lightning,’ Carr confirmed.

  She leapt in fright as thunder boomed overhead, its force seeming to shake the hills. Jesus, it was like a bomb going off. Laughing, Lizzie relaxed her hawk-like grip on Carr’s forearms. Veins of lightning forked silently across the sky. She could smell the ozone on the sudden breeze.

  ‘We’d better get inside,’ Carr yelled, above the boom that followed, ‘before it—’

  A gust of wind tore down the slope, pelting them with hail. Turning, they made a dash for the house, Lizzie huddling in the shelter of Carr’s body. Bloody hell, hailstones stung. Just how big were the things?

  In the safety of the kitchen, still laughing, she shook the hail from her hair and switched on the lights. Nothing happened. Stupidly, Lizzie flicked the switch off and on again.

  ‘I’ll check the fusebox,’ Carr said, brushing giant hailstones out of the folds of his shirt.

  In the dimness, Lizzie looked around. Oven, microwave, digital phone — everything was off.

  Carr emerged from the laundry shaking his head. ‘Storm must have taken the substation out.’

  Oh, great. ‘Sorry,’ she said, wincing to think how poorly the vineyard’s storm-readiness compared to Glencairn’s. Overhead, the hail redoubled its assault on the tin roof.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Looking completely unfazed, Carr headed for the door. ‘I’ll just go and grab the bags. Then we’ll get the fire going.’

  Well, at least they had plenty of candles. And wine. Having lit the former, Lizzie was just pouring the latter when it occurred to her that her cellphone was oddly silent. After ten days away, it ought to be delivering messages faster than it could bing. Was her handbag still in the Hilux? No, Carr had brought it in. There it was on the stool. She extracted her phone. Oh. No signal.

  ‘Looks like cellphone coverage is down, too,’ she told Carr, carrying over the wine.

  ‘It might be the lightning.’ He looked up from supervising the flames in the fireplace. ‘The cell tower could have taken a hit.’

  Glass in hand, Lizzie settled down on the rug beside him. ‘Let’s hope no one needs to reach us tonight,’ she smiled. ‘Looks like we’re cut off from the world.’

  ‘Worse things could happen.’

  As he opened his arms to her, she leaned against him, resting her head on his neck. He draped a hand over her knee. Right at that moment, she had no desire to be reached by anyone else. To be anywhere else. Sipping her wine, Lizzie gazed out past the glow of the candles at the storm, entranced by its might as it drove against the windows.

  ‘You love it here, don’t you?’ Carr said. ‘This place.’

  ‘I do.’ Sensing tension behind her, she turned her head towards him in surprise. Sure enough, he was glowering into the darkness outside, a faraway look on his face. ‘And that upsets you,’ she asked, mildly, ‘how?’

  ‘It means I can’t ask you to leave.’

  Lizzie frowned. Why would he—? Oh! Slowly, she put her wineglass down on the hearth and turned to him fully, placing a hand on each of his thighs as she knelt between them. Carr’s eyes flashed down at her.

  ‘Try me,’ she said.

  ‘Lizzie …’ His fingers moved over her back. ‘I want—’ He broke off.

  ‘Ask,’ she prompted.

  ‘I want you to marry me.’

  Lizzie stared at him, speechless. ‘Marry you?’ she managed, at last. ‘I thought you were going to ask me to move in.’

  Carr’s mouth twitched. ‘Well, I was kind of hoping you might do that as well.’

  Was he mad? There was no way they should even be thinking about—

  ‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘Yes. I will.’ The moment the words were out of her mouth, Lizzie felt how right they were. In fact, she realised, swallowing hard, she’d never wanted to do anything more.

  ‘You will? You—’ Carr gazed down at her, half laughing. ‘You don’t need to think about it?’

  ‘No.’ Lizzie wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘I don’t need to think about it at all.’ She leaned back a little. ‘There is one thing, though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You might have to get a TV.’

  Chapter TWENTY-TWO

  ‘Power’s still out,’ Ash said, as Cally walked into the lamplit kitchen.

  Cally nodded. Yes, she’d noticed that herself. Switching off her torch, she put it down on the table. The morning was just beginning to lighten, a streak of washed-out grey appearing above the line of the hills. The wind that had buffeted the homestead so ferociously overnight had finally eased, and in the growing light she could just make out the drifts of driven hail on the lawn outside. She still couldn’t believe her bedroom windows hadn’t broken.

  ‘Is everything okay out there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ash replied evenly, taking his toast off the range. ‘I haven’t looked yet.’

  ‘I came down to see if I could give you a hand,’ she explained.

  Ash looked at her. Cally dropped her gaze quickly, the words don’t help me echoing in her ears.

  ‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘Thanks.’ He turned back to the range, removing the coffee pot. ‘I’m just heading out to check on the stock. I could use another pair of eyes.’

  Uh-oh. ‘You’re not feeding out?’

  ‘No. There’s feed enough on the ground.’

  Shit. She’d been volunteering to drive a tractor by herself, not spend the morning in a confined space with him. Cally wracked her brain for some way to back out.

  Ash tipped out the dregs of his coffee. ‘You ready to go?’

  Defeated, she followed him out to the porch and pulled her boots on.

  ‘What are we looking for, exactly?’ she asked, as they bumped off up the river block in Ash’s ute.

  ‘Trouble,’ he said, scanning the hail-swept flats ahead through the mud-spattered windscreen.

  Oh, Jesus, he wasn’t wrong there … Cally tried to brace herself as the rough terrain did its best to deposit her in his lap. She averted her eyes from the thrust of Ash’s thigh as he shifted gear. Outside, small groups of sheep stood up from below the clumps of scrub to watch them pass. At the edge of the shingle fan, Ash crunched the ute to a halt, leaning over the steering wheel as he studied the low, clear braids of the Windscleugh.

  Taking the opportunity to relax her aching thighs, Cally made the mistake of letting her attention wander across the cab. Ash, as usual, was looking as though he’d just rolled out of bed, the bare skin of his forearms golden and warm, his tawny hair ruffled. Ugh, there was a reason she’d been avoiding situations like this. Her eyes followed the muscular line of his neck to his shoulder, the curve of the bicep stretching his shirt, the long twin muscles of his forearm. God, she’d like to wake up in those arms …

  ‘River’s still down,’ he observed.

  ‘Yes.’ With an effort, Cally moved her gaze to the water. There was no point to what she was feeling. No point at all. She turned her head, staring out the side window as Ash backed the ute away from the bank.

  An hour later, having found no trouble, they were back at the yards. Cally breathed a sigh of — of relief, she thought — as the ute’s wheels hit formed shingle again. As though she had just passed a test. Maybe things would be less uncomfortable between them from now on.

  ‘We’ll just stop in and feed the horses,’ Ash said, pulling up outside the stables.

  Oh, great. Another thing she’d sworn never to go near with him again. Cally climbed stiffly out of the cab, her heart lifting despite herself as Sarge and Rizzo ambled up to the fence, Sarge sidestepping the patches of hail. Pooch followed sedately behind. Apart from taking them the odd snack, she hadn’t seen much of the horses since she’d got back. She still hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Carr if she could take Sarge out by herself, and it seemed like an age since she’d
last ridden.

  ‘Where’s Windy?’ she asked, looking around.

  ‘Shit.’ After a long, hard stare at the empty paddock, Ash pushed his hand through his hair. ‘He must have taken off in the thunder last night.’

  ‘Taken off?’

  ‘Jumped the fence,’ Ash said shortly, eyeing the gate. He swore again under his breath. ‘I should have thought about that,’ he muttered.

  Cally was silent. With Carr away, she imagined Ash had had a lot of things to think about yesterday. She looked around at the vast expanse of the hills, the cloud low and heavy around them.

  ‘Well, I guess we know he’s not up the river,’ Ash sighed. ‘I’d better ride out and have a look for him. He might show his face if he sees Rizzo.’ He headed for the stables. ‘Take the truck back up to the house,’ he added. ‘I could be a while.’

  ‘No.’ Cally slipped a hand under Sarge’s halter. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Ash turned, looking surprised.

  She blushed. ‘I — I think I have an idea where he might be.’

  ‘All right,’ he said, giving her an odd look. ‘But you might want to take Pooch.’ Ash glanced up at the cloud. ‘It looks like we’re in for some rain.’

  They’d made it only a few metres up the track when the sky opened. Unhindered, for once, by wind, the rain came down hard and heavy. Fumbling one-handed to unroll her hood, Cally gave it up as a lost cause, her hair wet through already.

  ‘What makes you think he’ll be up there?’ Ash yelled, behind her, as she led the way up the ridge below the first gate.

  ‘Oh, just a feeling,’ she called back, glad he couldn’t see her face.

  She reined in at the top of the ridge, wiping her forehead as she searched the slope below. Ah, there it was! The drum of the rain on her oilskin filling her ears, Cally guided Pooch onto the now slippery sheep trail that led down into the scrub. As they made their way through the trees, Pooch raised her neck in sudden interest.

  Cally smiled. There, sheltering in the lee of the scrub on the other side of the tiny tussock flat, was Windy.

  ‘A secret hide-out, huh?’

  She looked down as Ash, already off Rizzo, paused beside her stirrup. He nodded at three well-fleeced merinos huddled under the trees.

  ‘We call this place Woolly Gully,’ he said, glancing up at her. ‘Pity I never thought to look for anything else here.’

  Windy, looking drier than anyone, tossed his head.

  ‘Go on then,’ Ash nodded to her. ‘He’s your mate. You go get him.’

  Cally slipped down from Pooch’s sodden back, and, taking the lead rope from Ash, walked cautiously across the tussock. Windy whickered at her approach.

  ‘You big silly,’ she said softly, clipping the rope to his halter. ‘Are you all right? Have you hurt yourself?’

  Windy nosed her wet pockets hopefully.

  Appearing beside them, Ash ran his hand down Windy’s foreleg. ‘He looks fine,’ he said. ‘The big girl’s blouse.’ He walked around the horse, checking Windy’s belly and hind legs. Cally tensed as he came to a halt behind her.

  Windy, tiring of asking nicely, gave her jacket a decent shove. Caught off-guard, Cally staggered backwards, almost losing her footing in the wet tussock before she fetched up against something solid. Everything else in the world seemed to stop as Ash turned her towards him, his arms tightening. Oh God, oh God … Cally could feel herself quivering at his touch. Ash had to be able to feel it, too. There was no way she had the willpower for this. She’d have to be superhuman. Slowly, she looked up at him, begging him to understand what he was doing to her and just … just … let her go …

  Her lips parted under his, the rain streaming over them both as she turned her face up to him, almost sobbing with how much she wanted him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his breath on her wet cheek. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you.’ He looked down at her, his own eyes full of pain. ‘But I can make it right. Please. Let me fix it.’

  With his arms around her, Cally didn’t doubt that he could make anything right — for an hour or so. After that, things would only be worse. Oh, but wouldn’t it be worth it, though? Just once?

  ‘What about Valentina?’ she managed, with a supreme effort of will.

  It worked. Ash let go.

  ‘Look,’ he said, a hint of desperation in his voice as he backed off, wiping the rain from his eyes. ‘I swear, when I left Argentina — when you and I met — I had no idea I’d ever see Valentina again. Then I found out she was coming over, and I, I should have said something, I know. But I wasn’t sure if you—’

  He broke off, looking embarrassed. ‘I didn’t know how you felt. About me, I mean. If we were just friends.’ Ash frowned. ‘It was difficult, with you working for Dad. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know what it’s like when your boss’s— Well, I know what it’s like.’

  Uncomfortable? Cally stared at him in disbelief. What the hell did he think he’d been doing all this time? And as for not knowing how she felt about him, what had been his first hint? The time they’d almost—

  ‘It wasn’t until that day in the snow,’ he went on, cutting into her inner tirade, ‘that I found out for sure that you liked me. And I was picking up Valentina from the airport the next day, and I didn’t … I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘You had to make a choice,’ she said, as evenly as she could. Turning her back on Ash, she wiped her eyes quickly. Thank God for the rain. ‘It’s okay,’ she told him, turning back. ‘You don’t have to feel sorry for me because you chose Valentina.’

  ‘No,’ he said fiercely. ‘That’s not it at all. I acted the way I did because I felt sorry for her. Because I’d already chosen you.’

  They stared at each other, the rain beating down.

  ‘I mean,’ Ash corrected, stepping forward and reaching for her hand, ‘I would choose you. If I could. If I had that choice.’

  God. Cally looked down at his hand enclosing hers. Was this really happening? To her? It was hard to believe. Almost impossible, in fact.

  ‘So is that why you slept with Valentina?’ she asked, lifting her gaze to Ash’s face. ‘Because you felt sorry for her?’

  ‘I didn’t sleep with her.’ Ash looked horrified. ‘I mean— not here. Not since I met you. That night you saw her coming out of my room, she’d just— We were talking, that was all. Nothing happened.’

  Ugh. Why did he have to lie? ‘I clean your room,’ she reminded him, removing her hand from his.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Cally sighed. ‘I found her underwear under your bed.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Ash put both hands on her shoulders. ‘Cally, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to … I’m sorry that happened. But …’

  She raised her eyebrows at him. But what, exactly?

  ‘I didn’t …’ He winced. ‘Look, I had nothing to do with it getting there, okay? I woke up and Valentina was standing there, and she— Well, you get the picture.’

  All too clearly, yes. And then? She watched him, waiting.

  ‘I guess,’ Ash went on, looking like he was enjoying the story about as much as a tooth extraction minus anaesthetic, ‘it took me a second or two to wake up properly, but when I did I told her she should get dressed, and then she stormed out, and I followed her to try and— I don’t know, sort it out. And that’s when you saw us.’

  ‘So,’ Cally faltered, ‘you really didn’t …?’

  ‘I really didn’t.’

  With a naked Valentina in his bed? Cally couldn’t help herself. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want Valentina.’ Ash brushed what she hoped was rain from her cheekbone. ‘I wanted you.’

  Now, she thought, looking up at him as the rain cascaded down his own face, might be a good time to start letting herself believe.

  ‘You were right there across the hall.’ He kissed her gently. ‘That’s all I could think about. It’s what I think about every night. You. And me. And how it should be
the first time.’ He kissed her again. ‘And the next time. And the time after that.’

  ‘You really—’ Cally began.

  Smiling, Ash seized her sodden collar and pulled her closer. She melted against him as his answer flooded her body, rain and tears mingling on her cheeks. This was real. This was real.

  His hands popped the top buttons of her oilskin and drew down the zip. Cally gasped as a rivulet of cold water found its way between her breasts. Quickly, Ash refastened her coat.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, taking her hand, his voice low, his eyes laughing, pupils dark with the need she’d felt in his kiss. ‘Let’s go home.’

  They rode back wordlessly. With only the haziest awareness of the time that had passed in between — the set of Ash’s shoulders ahead, his arms closing around her as she slipped off her horse and into his kiss, Ash laughing in the porch as he wrapped a towel under her dripping hair and pulled her to him again, the empty rooms of the house strangely unfamiliar as he led her up and into his room — Cally felt the bite of the blanket under her naked back, his skin against hers. As his fingers spread over her ribs, her own followed the pale tracks of the scars that cut across the gold of his skin into the glorious muscles of his shoulders.

  She watched his eyes cloud as he parted her thighs. God, it wasn’t just horses he knew how to touch … She pressed her face into his neck.

  Cally cried out, coming hard around him as he slid inside her at last. Ash caught her to his chest, driving her on through the barrier of a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, to a place where her own body seemed to have dissolved and she was conscious of nothing but him, his movement, his hands. She opened her eyes to find him watching her face.

  ‘Come,’ she begged him, her open lips grazing his braced bicep. ‘Please.’

  She dug her fingers into the muscles of his back, forcing him into her as hard as she could, feeling his body respond, losing herself again in the rush of him, the power. She’d never felt anything more beautiful in her life.

  Swept onto his chest, his arms tight around her, his hands stroking her still-wet hair, Cally settled her cheek over his heart, feeling its beat slow and settle into the same rhythm as her own.