He hadn’t meant to let his lips linger on hers. If he’d been thinking straight he wouldn’t have kissed her in the first place. The kiss was meant to be a thank-you—a brief touch of his lips to hers—a symbol of his gratitude.
The moment his lips met hers, though, all those intentions flew out of his head. Their lips met and some frozen thing inside him started to melt. Warmth flooded his whole body.
It happened in an eye-blink.
Sapphie gasped, her mouth opening in surprise, and he couldn’t resist touching his tongue to her inner lips and exploring her soft sweetness. She swayed, and he slid his arm around her waist to hold her close.
And then she froze.
He did too.
Did she want him to stop? He prayed to God she didn’t. She started to draw away…loosened his hold…
But then very tentatively, she moved her lips against his—so slowly that the frozen thing inside him thawed completely, sending tenderness spiralling through him. With a tiny sigh she moved in close again. Her head fell back and her hands bunched in the material of his shirt. He tasted her slowly, thoroughly, wanting—needing—to draw a response from her. His fingers curved around her jaw, stroking the soft firm line of her throat, savouring every taste and breath and feel of her. When she touched her tongue to his he was lost.
His hands followed the dip and swell of her back and hips—skimming, teasing and tempting, savouring every discovery. Sapphie’s hands curled into his hair and she arched against him, opening herself up more fully for his kisses, his caresses, her gasps driving him on.
He’d never wanted a woman with this intensity before.
He wanted to imprint himself on her, body and soul. He wanted her branded on him, body and soul. Now! The physicality of it took him off-guard. Need, desire, heat pounded through him with elemental force. He hadn’t experienced anything as primitive or desperate in his life, not even with Belinda, and—
Belinda?
The word pounded in his brain.
Belinda!
With a curse he dragged his mouth from Sapphie’s. He kept hold of her upper arms until she regained her balance, and then he dragged his hands away too. The blood pounded in his ears in time with his breathing—ragged and rapid.
Had he ruined everything?
‘I’m sorry.’ The words scraped out of him. ‘That was supposed to be a thank-you, but it got out of hand.’
She touched her fingers to her lips. Their fullness, their shine, beckoned to him even now, and he could have groaned out loud. She stared at him with big, dazed eyes, and it occurred to him that maybe he hadn’t offended her. But instead maybe she’d fill her head with all sorts of romantic notions and castles-in-the-air nonsense about him. His skin started to burn and itch. Somehow this woman had got under his skin in a record amount of time.
‘It won’t happen again.’ He wasn’t the kind of man a woman should pin her romantic hopes on. He stabbed a finger at her. ‘It can’t happen again!’
She blinked at his ferocity. She didn’t say a word. Couldn’t she at least agree with him?
‘I will not be accused of seducing you to gain access to my nephew.’
That put the starch back into her spine. ‘You think too much of yourself, Liam Stapleton. The kiss was all right, but it wasn’t that good.’
All right? All right! It had blown his mind, but it had obviously left her—
The thought came to a screaming halt as he watched the blood drain from her face. She took a step back. She pressed her hands to her face. And then she turned and fled, through the living room and out of the French doors to the veranda.
What on earth…?
Liam followed more slowly. His gut churned. Would she demand he fly her and Harry out of Newarra? Had he made a hash of everything because of one little kiss?
It hadn’t been little, though, had it? Sapphie could pretend, but he sensed it had rocked her as much as it had him. The way she’d just fled proved it.
That darn look—the end of the world look—had come into her eyes again. His hands clenched. He needed to find out why.
He found her huddled on the bench. He cleared his throat to let her know he was there. She stiffened and half turned, but she didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I think we ought to talk about that,’ he said.
‘There’s nothing to talk about. Other than the fact it can’t happen again!’
Coming from her, those words didn’t sound half as logical as when he’d uttered them. When he looked at her all he wanted to do was kiss her again. He forced himself to stare out towards the pepper trees.
The evening shadows had reached their zenith. The air was blue and still. In another half-hour night would have fallen completely.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘You’re right. It can’t.’
She turned, her eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me why?’
He wondered if this was some kind of test. If so, he prayed he’d pass. ‘Because I have no intention of ever marrying again, and you don’t strike me as the kind of woman who has affairs.’
‘You’re right about that.’
Bitterness laced her words. It seemed so out of character it made him pause. ‘If I kissed you again I’d be leading you on. I have no intention of doing that, Sapphie.’
‘Why not?’ Again that narrow-eyed stare.
‘Because I like you.’
Her jaw dropped. The stiffness slid out of her. It almost made him smile.
That desire fled when he registered the misery on her face. That look tore at him. He hated it. She had a mouth made for laughing and eyes made for smiling, and that was what he wanted for her. The way she wanted good things for him and Harry.
Keeping his movements deliberately casual, he settled himself at one end of the bench. She scooted away until she was jammed up against the far armrest. Her eyes skittered away. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared directly out to the front. He didn’t want her feeling as if she was under threat, under attack…or under a microscope.
‘Did I frighten you just then?’ The way the blood had drained from her face! Silently he cursed himself. ‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘No, you didn’t frighten me, Liam. I frightened myself. I…It took me by surprise.’
That made two of them.
‘I was so abandoned, so out of control.’
Round eyes and a trembling mouth told him how much that had appalled her.
‘If you hadn’t stopped when you did…’
‘But I did.’ He needed to erase that expression from her eyes. ‘I swear to you, Sapphie, it won’t happen again.’
Her mouth stopped trembling. ‘I do believe you, Liam.’
His stomach tightened. ‘But?’ He could sense one coming.
‘It’s just…’ She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. ‘It’s just that I never thought I’d feel desire for a man again.’
Everything inside him stilled. It took a concerted effort to keep his hands relaxed, his voice even. ‘Why not?’
As if she suddenly realised she’d said too much, she stiffened. ‘It’s a long story.’ She placed her feet back on the floor and made as if to rise.
‘I’d like to hear it.’
She pursed her lips, then wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.’
One of his hands curled into a fist. ‘I promise not to feel sorry for you.’
She slumped back against the bench, as if the fight had left her body. ‘I guess it’s not really a secret,’ she mumbled.
What wasn’t?
‘I just don’t talk about it all that often.’
He wanted her to talk about it now.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘When I was eighteen I was raped by a family friend. It wasn’t long after my mother had died, and at first I thought he was trying to comfort me.’ She shrugged. ‘It was awful.’
He couldn’t have clenched his hands tighter if he’d tried. His muscles had tensed to hard knots and his whole body
shook.
Sapphie glanced at him and gave a low laugh. ‘Ease up, Liam. He died a few years ago—heart attack.’
Liam could barely unclench his teeth to ask, ‘Was he charged with what he did to you?’
She stared down at her hands. ‘There wasn’t enough evidence, apparently.’
Not enough…?
He leapt up and paced. ‘But that’s—’
‘Unfair? Yeah, I know.’
He stared at her. How had she managed to get through such an ordeal on her own?
‘The rape itself wasn’t particularly violent. He didn’t hit me or beat me. He just…overpowered me.’ Her lips twisted, but he saw the pain she tried to hide. ‘And…’ She swallowed. ‘Emmy was in the house.’
Bile rose through him when he saw her remembered helplessness, her fear. She met his gaze and her eyes almost seem to plead with his for understanding.
‘I didn’t want Emmy to hear,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want him to hurt her. She’d been through so much…’
So had Sapphie! But he understood her urge to protect her younger sibling.
‘So in the end there weren’t that many bruises. It was my word against his, and no jury would’ve convicted him on that.’
He wanted to punch something. But when he glanced at her he saw how she sat on the bench, so hunched and small, and he had to swallow back the violence roiling through him and go to her.
He covered both her hands with one of his own. ‘I’m sorry, Sapphie. That should never have happened to you. It should never happen to anyone.’
He pulled his hand back, conscious that he might be invading her space. Her baggy shirts, those buttoned-up collars—all suddenly made sense. Today, though, for the first time she’d left her top button undone and had rolled up her sleeves. She’d started to feel safe. And he’d jeopardised her sense of safety by kissing her.
‘It’s okay, Liam.’
She reached across and slipped her hand inside his. He wanted to caress it, stroke it, kiss it. But none of those things would undo what had been done to her.
‘I know you’re not the kind of man who would ever hurt a woman.’
Something inside him unhitched at her words. No, he would never hurt a woman, and for as long as Sapphie was here at Newarra nobody would hurt her. He’d make sure of it.
‘Liam?’
He met her glorious green eyes, and only the merest shadow of sadness lingered in them.
‘I do understand that most men wouldn’t dream of forcing themselves on a woman.’
The anger prickled through him again. ‘How can you be so…?’
She pointed the index finger of her free hand at his nose. ‘Healthy is the right word to use.’
It almost made him grin.
‘I didn’t have time to wallow.’
No, she’d had to look after her twelve-year-old sister.
‘I saw a counsellor for a while, but the thing that really helped was taking self-defence classes. It gave me a sense of control again. That and focussing on making a good life with Emmy pulled me through. I was lucky.’
Lucky!
She coloured. ‘Until today I thought I’d never want to be…intimate with a man.’
No wonder that kiss had all but winded her. The force of the need that had shot through him had almost knocked him off his feet, and he had nothing like the excuse she did.
She plucked her hand from his. ‘I don’t mean to do anything about it, though.’
A primitive desire to show her just how good it could be between a man and a woman flared through him. He damped it down. Sapphie was right. It was one thing to recognise and admit to feelings of desire. Taking that next step was something else entirely, and she wasn’t ready for it.
Besides, she deserved more than the false hopes he could offer her. The majority of women couldn’t cope with the isolation of station life. And even if she proved the exception he was never giving another woman—not even the splendid Sapphie—an opportunity to make a fool of him again.
That knowledge didn’t stop him staring at her, marvelling at her.
She lifted a hand to her face. ‘What?’
He shook his head. ‘In a very short space of time you lost your mother, had to take charge of your twelve-year-old sister, and were raped. And yet…’
‘And yet?’
She’d remained buoyant. ‘You can still smile and laugh.’
‘Of course I can!’ She stared at him as if he just didn’t get it. ‘You know what your problem is? You let all the bad things that happen in your life take away the joy. You forget all the good things.’
No, he didn’t. He rolled his shoulders and scowled. He…
‘Nobody said life is fair—or easy—but it’s still a gift. If you lose your joy then…then it’s won.’
‘What’s won?’
‘The badness.’
With that she stood and disappeared back inside the house. Left him wondering if she was right—was he letting the bad stuff win?
CHAPTER NINE
SAPPHIE stacked the last items into the dishwasher and then set about making caramel milkshakes—milk, lashings of caramel topping, and lots and lots of ice cream. She did her best to stop her gaze from drifting across to Liam. He sat hunched at the kitchen table. As he had done since she’d removed his dinner plate nearly half an hour ago.
Usually about now they made their excuses and retired to their separate rooms. She risked another glance at him. He’d been quiet during dinner—no doubt due to her sobering revelation earlier. Part of her couldn’t believe she’d told him about her rape. It wasn’t something she generally advertised. But his eyes had been so warm, and it had been so easy, almost natural to confide in him.
She still couldn’t believe that kiss either—that heavenly, shake-her-to-her-foundations and freeze-her-in-her-shoes kiss.
Don’t think about the kiss.
He started when she plonked a milkshake down in front of him. One corner of his mouth kicked up. ‘Are you addicted to these things?’
‘Hey, it’s important for women to get plenty of calcium.’
‘That’s a yes, huh?’
‘Ooh, you bet.’
She hunkered down in the chair opposite. They clinked glasses and drank. Sapphie licked away a milk moustache, noticed the way Liam watched that action and suddenly remembered why it was such a good idea to retire to her own room directly after dinner.
She cleared her throat. ‘Tell me about Lucas.’
He stiffened. ‘What?’
She bit back a sigh. ‘He’s Harry’s father. I know I’m never going to get the opportunity to really know him, but I’d love to form a picture of who he was.’
He shifted on his chair, rolled his shoulders. ‘What do you want to know?’
She wanted to hear whatever he wanted to tell her. She pointed to her milkshake. ‘Did he have any addictions?’
He grinned then. She wasn’t expecting it, and it stole her breath clean away. ‘How long have you got?’
When he grinned like that, he could have all night if he wanted. ‘I take it he was one of those kids who was into fads, huh?’
‘When he was nine it was yo-yos—you should’ve seen his collection. By eleven it was model airplanes. At fifteen he was into retro heavy rock in a big way—drove us all mad with his electric guitar. I’m afraid on that score he had more enthusiasm than talent.’
She leant forward. ‘He sounds so full of life!’
Liam sobered. ‘He was.’
Mentally, she kicked herself. ‘What made him happiest?’
‘Riding, rodeos, and Mum’s apple pie.’
That made her laugh. ‘Was he a better rider then the rest of you?’
A low, sexy grin stretched all the way across his face. Her pulse skittered and jigged and hopped.
‘As much as I hate to admit it—yes! You should’ve seen the cabinet full of his trophies for camp drafting and bronc riding.’
Her pulse refused to slow,
and the memory of their kiss broke the surface of her consciousness again—that magical, heavenly kiss. She tried to pull back, tried not to notice how…masculine he looked in his polo shirt and jeans, or how the intriguing glimpse of hair that curled in the vee of his shirt seemed almost to beckon her. Her earlier lack of control had scared her rigid. There was no way she was ready for where a kiss like theirs could lead.
She’d never be ready.
Or would she?
The thought filtered into her mind. Ludicrous! She pushed it straight out again. She forced her attention back to Liam. His smile had gone.
‘Mum packed them all away after…afterwards.’
‘Perhaps you should drag some of them back out? For Harry?’
Very slowly, he nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’
She could tell how proud he was of his little brother. And it was as if her questions had burst a dam open inside him, because without any further prompting from her he started talking about Lucas’s rodeo victories, the scrapes he’d got into as a kid, and the old classic car he’d been trying to restore. His words gave life to the young man in the photographs—and Sapphie liked the picture they created.
‘Did he ever speak about Emmy?’ she asked when he finally fell silent.
He shook his head. ‘Before he had his accident, though, I’d suspected he’d met someone.’
‘How could you tell?’
‘How do you tell those things about anyone who’s close to you? He was distracted. He’d stare off into the distance with a goofy look on his face and then go all red when I teased him about it. And I knew he was planning another trip to Perth. It was unusual for him to make two trips in such quick succession.’
Across the table, his eyes met hers. ‘I don’t think Lucas meant to abandon your sister, Sapphie. I think he had the accident before he could get back to her.’
She stared down into her glass. ‘I think that will mean a lot to her.’
‘After his accident… Perhaps he didn’t think Emmy would have wanted him. Being crippled, he wouldn’t have thought he had anything to offer her.’
The Cattleman, The Baby and Me Page 11