She smiled and reached out a hand to his cheek as she passed. ‘Such a gentleman. I’ll leave you two to clean up after dinner.’
‘Goodnight, Mrs Wallace,’ Will said. ‘Sleep well.’
‘You just won’t call me Mary, will you,’ she said, shaking her head tiredly.
‘Goodnight, Ma.’
Taking one of the candles from the mantle, Mary went into the bedroom she was currently sharing with Indy since Will had arrived.
Will sat again and watched intently as Indy cleared the plates from the table. In the glow of the single candle, she was breathtakingly beautiful and looked frighteningly young. The skin of her face, tanned by hours of working outdoors, glowed golden, while flecks of sun-streaked red flashed in her ash blonde hair.
Indy met his eyes, and for a moment they just looked at one another with secret wants unspoken.
Finally coming to his senses, Will cleared his throat and stood.
‘Shall I help you clean up?’
‘Well, I’m not doing it all on my own,’ she scoffed, but her voice had lost its usual bite.
Indy washed the dishes in a large metal bowl, topping it up with water heated in the heavy kettle over the fire, and Will dried the crockery with one of Mary’s hand-sewn cotton towels. They worked side by side, keeping to safe subjects of discussion such as Mary’s vegetable patch or Will’s time in India.
‘You’ve seen such far-off lands I cannot imagine,’ Indy said, wiping her hands on her skirt as they finished up.
‘But only during war time,’ Will added. ‘Some of the places were so beautiful and I would have enjoyed exploring them when they weren’t being laid to waste by war and disease. I much prefer this quiet land.’
‘Quiet?’ Indy baulked, moving to the door to toss the washing water out. ‘With a murder every second day on the goldfields? Bushrangers and thieves pillaging and plundering. It’s hardly quiet.’
‘Hm,’ Will mused. ‘You may have a point.’ He hesitated a moment before speaking again. ‘Your mother worries about you being out there on the fields with all those men, with all those guns. I mean that Scobie fellow …’
He saw the determined glower that he’d grown to expect cross her face.
‘James Scobie was a rabble raiser. He didn’t deserve to be killed. But he was no innocent bystander.’
‘Still, innocent bystanders get hurt. Look at me.’
‘I can take care of myself, Lieutenant.’
‘I know you can, Indy,’ he said, his voice deep and low. ‘That doesn’t mean your mother won’t worry, that I won’t worry.’
She stopped what she was doing and stared at him. ‘You called me Indy,’ she said, surprise in her uncommonly quiet voice. ‘You never call me Indy.’
‘I apologise.’ It was overly familiar of him to call her by her given name. He’d relaxed so easily into their conversation, it had been a simple slip of the tongue.
‘No, I like it.’
He studied her expression in the muted light. The prickliness was gone, replaced by a softer look. The look of a desirable young woman with hope and want in her eyes. It threatened to undo him, so he forced himself to turn away.
‘I should go to bed, too.’ Hanging the tea towel over a chair back, he moved towards the second bedroom. ‘And I should probably go back to town in the morning.’
‘We’ll see,’ she said as though she were solely in charge of determining his fitness for travel.
Indy took the candle from the table and handed it to him. Their fingers touched lightly as he took it from her and they held the candle together for a moment. He watched her long lashes lower as her eyes dropped to his mouth. Her lips parted slightly and he felt himself stir at the prettiness of her full pink mouth. Oh, what temptation lay in those lips? He felt his hand lifting to her cheek before his brain registered what he was doing. Her skin was so soft, so warm, and he was momentarily distracted by the small grouping of freckles on her nose. How had he never noticed them before?
You’ve never been this close to her before.
That realisation snapped him back to his senses. Taking the candle, he placed it just inside the door on the bureau. When he turned back, Indy was closer again. He could smell her fragrant hair and skin and he swallowed against the pleasant assault to his senses.
‘Indy,’ he whispered in warning.
‘Shh.’ Going up on her toes she leaned so close it would take only the slightest shift to close the gap between them.
His body burned. Every part of him ached to touch her. She laid her hands against his chest and looked up at him questioningly. Passion-hooded, dark blue eyes nearly broke him and her heavy breathing was doing wonderful things to her décolletage above her dress.
No battle he’d ever fought had required the feat of strength it took to turn away from her warmth. It was physically painful, but he knew it was for the best. Before he lost his ability to think, he stepped back.
‘Goodnight, Indy.’
And closed the door.
***
Indy stood staring at the door. Everything she wanted was on the other side of it. Will. His lovely dark eyes and full mouth. His unruly blond hair, his heart of gold. He was a gentleman to the most annoying degree. She would gladly have given herself to him had he asked, but a gentleman he was.
And her mother was in the next room.
Where had her good sense gone? She liked to be in charge, especially when it came to possible suitors. But somehow, when she was with Will, she lost her ability to think straight.
She was shocked to discover she had more than a passing desire to become Will’s bed mate. Did that make her a wanton? Was it wrong for a woman to have desires of the body? Men did, and they gave in to it frequently. Was a woman supposed to wait until she was wed before she was allowed to enjoy the thrill of what the body of a handsome and strong man like Lieutenant Will Marsh could bring? If that were so, why did God give her these feelings that rushed through her system like she’d devoured a thousand raspberry drops from Spencer’s Confectionary store?
It wasn’t as though Will would be her first experience with lovemaking. It had happened in this very room. She and the carpenter’s son. A handsome young man, he’d caught her eye as he’d worked with his father restoring the house. One day the father had travelled to Bendigo, leaving the son alone to continue work, and Indy had dropped by to check on the progress. They had both been nineteen and curious. Neither had had any sexual experiences prior and Indy remembered the fumbling and the pain of her first encounter with intercourse. She’d found it neither fun nor thrilling, and although young Simon seemed to have enjoyed himself, as he’d lay across her panting and bucking, Indy simply counted the moments until it was over. Simon had hoped there would be more between them and even proposed marriage. But being a young bride—or a bride at all—was not something that appealed to Indy. She had declined politely and they had parted as friends.
Thinking of that one encounter, Indy hadn’t experienced the rush of feelings in Simon’s arms that she got whenever she was within breathing distance of Will Marsh. Her skin prickled and her belly rippled low at just the thought of Will’s big hands skimming across her naked body. And she knew he would be no dull or selfish lover.
Reining in her imagination, now wildly out of control, she took one more look at Will’s closed door then crept into her mother’s room. She didn’t want her mother to wake up and see the no doubt obvious flush to her cheeks. Will had put that flush there and it wasn’t fading any time soon.
A candle burned low on the armoire, and Indy got undressed as quietly as she could before blowing it out and climbing into the small bed beside her mother. She would have preferred to be climbing into bed beside Will, but he was too much of a gentleman—damn him. And bless him. A smile warmed her lips as she cuddled down into the sheets facing her mother.
‘Be careful, my girl.’
Her mother’s voice surprised her and she opened her eyes to see her staring back at
her.
‘Be careful about what, Mother?’
‘Don’t go looking where you shouldn’t be looking.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Indy said. She knew her voice sounded wrong, too high, but she had never been able to lie to her mother.
‘I like him too, Indy.’ Mary lifted a hand to push Indy’s curls from her forehead, before laying it against her cheek. Would she feel how flushed she was? Indy couldn’t help it, she blushed even more. ‘But he is a man. A military man and a career one at that.’
‘What are you saying?’ The high she’d floated on from her stolen moment with Will disappeared along with her smile. ‘You think he’s only going to use me and toss me aside when he’s done?’
‘He won’t do it on purpose,’ Mary denied. ‘He is a good man. But his life is in the service and we are but a short stop on his journey. I worry for you. Don’t go falling in love with a man who will most likely be gone again by year’s end.’
‘Since when have you ever known me to fall in love?’ Indy said lightly, trying to laugh off her mother’s concerns.
‘Never,’ Mary said sadly. ‘That’s why I worry now.’
If she were able to think straight when it came to William Marsh, she would have agreed with her mother’s logic. She’d thought a casual dalliance with the handsome Lieutenant might be fun and quite harmless to both of them. But having spent so much time around him over the last few days, her feelings had become muddled. Despite her best intentions, her heart seemed determined to rebel against her common sense.
Realising her mother was still watching her closely, she rolled over in the little bed so that Mary could no longer see her face.
‘Don’t concern yourself. I am quite immune to handsome gentlemen,’ she said staring wide-awake at the wall that joined Will’s bedroom to theirs. ‘Goodnight, Mother.’
Chapter 12
Will woke to a strange thwacking sound. Forcing his eyes open, he squinted at the sunshine pouring into the bedroom. He’d overslept. Again. He could no longer blame the damage to his skull, for it was healing well. He was becoming much too comfortable in this house in the woods, when he really ought to be getting back to the government camp. And he should go today. Resigned he would do just that, he climbed out of bed and peeked out the little window.
‘Blast her independence.’
Terrible images of Indy taking off a finger or a foot with the axe she swung filled his head. Moving quickly he pulled on his trousers and tossed his shirt over his head. Awkwardly hopping across the room, tugging on his boots as he went, he threw open the bedroom door and stalked determinedly out of the house.
The fierce heat of the sun hit him square between the eyes, and it took a long moment on the porch before he could adjust to the brightness and continue his forward motion.
‘Hell’s bells, this place gets hot,’ he grumbled. ‘How does it get so hot? It can’t be eight in the morning.’
‘Well, if it isn’t himself.’ Indy’s exaggerated Irish brogue made its way to him. ‘It’s after nine actually, Lieutenant Lazy Bones.’
He moved towards her now that his eyes and his body had acclimated.
‘I cannot deny I have become somewhat of a “lazy bones” as you say. It’s your mother’s fine cooking and the softness of your bed …’ He stopped abruptly. ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to discuss your bed …’
He shut his mouth before he did any more harm.
‘Lieutenant, if you continue to say you’re sorry for everything you think to be improper, we will never get past apologies,’ she said and swung the axe again, splitting a log expertly in two. ‘And it’s beginning to annoy.’
‘Here.’ Will stepped forward and put his hand over hers on the axe. ‘Let me do that.’
‘I am quite capable of swinging an axe,’ Indy said, defiance radiating with every word.
‘I can see that,’ Will said, his grip on the axe tightening in case she got it into her head to use it on him. He was quickly learning how not to ruffle the feathers of one Indigo Wallace. ‘But as I said, I feel I have become too idle. My body will be wasting away without exercise.’
‘Your body looks fine to me.’
His eyes shot to hers. ‘I beg your pardon?’ It had been barely a murmur, but he’d heard her well enough.
‘I said I’m happy for you to take over.’ Batting her eyelashes and smiling coquettishly, Indy let go of the axe.
Surprised that she’d given in so easily, Will watched her move to a safe distance where she sat on the woodpile. He’d expected at least twelve rounds of arguing before she would deign to surrender.
Dropping the head of the axe to the ground between his legs, he gripped the hem of his loose white shirt and whipped it over his head leaving his chest bare. He tossed the shirt towards the woodpile. Indy’s expression had taken on a hint of astonishment—her eyes were well and truly fixed to his naked chest, following his torso down to the waist of his trousers. He allowed himself a little chuckle and, since he had begun to enjoy her unerring stare a little too much, he figured he ought to get down to the task at hand.
***
Indy followed the flight of the flowing white shirt as it landed beside her on the woodpile, and tried very hard to muffle the little squeak of surprise. She was not a woman to shock easily. Slowly her eyes tracked back towards Will. Yep, his shirt had come off, and yep, there was his now bare upper body gleaming, a little too white and bright really, in the sun. She watched sinewy muscle ripple in his sides as he bent to pick up the axe again. The only reason she had acquiesced so quickly was because his hand had felt much too warm, and much too comfortable on hers as he’d reached for the axe.
‘You need some time in the sun, Lieutenant,’ she teased, finally getting a grasp on her intelligence once again. ‘I’ve seen polar bears with more colour.’
He graced her with an exasperated smile, but when he lifted the axe over his head, her bravado took a nosedive and she nearly slipped off the woodpile. The bumps and grooves across his chest and abdomen that had appeared innocent enough in rest, flexed and contracted mightily as he brought down the axe again and again. That burn, low in her belly, returned with alacrity—she suddenly felt very thirsty. The only thing marring the perfection of his torso was the array of scars seared into his chest and back.
‘How did you get those marks on your skin?’ Indy asked before she could censor herself.
Pausing, he looked down at his body. Sweat was now starting to glisten on his chest and he was puffing a little from his exertions. ‘Various battles here and there.’
He acted so unconcerned about them as he lifted the axe once more, swinging down to split the log into two large parts.
‘How long have you been travelling with the regiment?’
Indy watched him closely, his eyes scanning the tops of the huge eucalypts as he did the mental calculations.
‘Eight years,’ he answered finally. ‘Or thereabouts.’
The axe swung again. Crack!
‘You haven’t seen home in eight years?’
‘What home? The Army is my home. I joined when I was sixteen.’
‘What did you do before you joined?’
‘I lived on the streets, stole food to survive,’ he said, pausing to push his hair from his eyes.
Indy was careful to school her features to hide the heartbreak she felt imagining him as a young boy, orphaned and homeless. But he was too perceptive.
‘Do not pity me, Indy.’ He said it so firmly she didn’t even try to deny that she had felt sympathy for him. ‘I did what I had to in order to survive. When I was eventually caught stealing fruit at a market by an officer of the Fortieth regiment, he and his wife took me in and fed me. I planned on running away with the silverware in the middle of the night. But over dinner the Captain talked of his time in the Army: the campaigns, the travel to faraway lands. He showed me maps of oceans he had sailed and countries he had seen. Places like Canada and Africa
and others I had never even heard of.’
There was so much awe and admiration in his voice when he spoke of the gentleman that Indy smiled.
‘He made it sound like an adventure,’ Will continued. ‘I was facing prison and possible transportation for the term of my natural life and he offered me a different direction in the ranks of the regimentals. I figured I had nothing to lose. If I didn’t like it, I’d run again. No harm done.’ He sliced another log in half. ‘So I took the Queen’s shilling and never looked back.’
‘And you liked it,’ Indy said, caught up in his story.
He let out a sardonic laugh. ‘No, I hated it. Every damn minute of it. The camps were rougher than the streets I’d lived on. The higher-ranking officers treated us like dogs. But then our regiment was sent to war in India. At only eighteen years of age, it seemed I had a knack for battle.’
‘From fighting on the streets?’
Will leaned the axe head down on the ground and wiped his forehead. She could smell his manly sweat, watched a line of it run down across his taut stomach and she had to swallow the excess saliva that had somehow come to pool in her otherwise dry mouth.
‘I think I was a good soldier because I didn’t really care whether I lived or died.’
His answer knocked the wind out of her and the smile right off her face. It had been said so pragmatically.
‘Don’t look so troubled, you pretty fool,’ he said, stepping to her and rubbing the frown lines from her brow with his large thumb. ‘It’s been a long time since I have felt like that. I enjoy my life and I enjoy what I do. I’m not a martyr. I do not wish to die.’ He tapped her nose and gave her a wink. ‘Especially not right at this moment.’
She fought to slow her racing pulse. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
His touch had been light and teasing, and her heart had softened just a little more thanks to his candour. But something was still bothering her.
‘How did an orphan boy afford to buy a commission?’ It was a question that had plagued her since he’d first told her his parents had abandoned him.
‘I couldn’t afford it. I was promoted when I saved the life of a Major General in battle. On his recommendation and letters from my old friend the Captain they promoted me to Lieutenant. So there. Now you know all there is to know about me.’
The Girl From Eureka Page 14