Lonely Pride
Page 5
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Not bothering to undress, she lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling through a mist of tears. Once she’d thought she knew him as well as she knew herself. He was right about one thing—she did belong to him. And she wanted him now more than anything in her life. Heaven knew she’d wanted him all her life. She’d pledged her soul to him before she’d turned twelve and her love had grown over the years. Mackenzie Boswell mattered more to her than anything in the world. He’d been brother, father, friend, mentor and lover rolled into one.
The day she met him for the first time was imprinted on her mind. Despite having cause to hate him for his betrayal, she didn’t. Love didn’t demand a cause; it had its own sense of reasoning. It was easy for him to deny his betrayal, words were cheap. How she wished she could shut her mind to thoughts that tortured her constantly.
But she would force herself to shut him out—as she’d closed her mind to that part of her life long ago. Closed it off into a deep dark corner of her mind.
Fool! She only had to shut her eyes and she could almost taste the dust on her lips. Smell the individual scent of horseflesh with the sun on it. She’d been at least eight or nine when he’d entered her life. Mac was fifteen, tall for his age, with a smile that dazzled her. Within minutes of meeting him and being hoisted onto the back of his big black stallion, she knew she was going to marry him one day. Foolish childish fancy.
Although he’d been a hard taskmaster, she’d always sought his approval. Strange, but they never discussed the extraordinary pull that drew them together. He’d grown to be such an integral part of her life she was never certain when or how her feelings changed from simple childish adoration to the sensual and deep worship of a woman for a man. Instinctively, she’d known he would be the only man she would want to share her life with.
He’d never scolded her and they’d rarely disagreed. He became her idol, and confidante. Always, they’d seemed able to discuss everything and anything. Some strange telepathic power seemed to link them. Perhaps they grew close because neither had siblings. Their relationship never seemed incongruous, but always felt right.
Pixie, the pony he’d loaned her, became hers for as long as she liked, and the pair became inseparable. When Mac was away at school, Barbara would drop Sam off at the property and she rode for hours, until she knew Mac’s parents’ farm as well as he did. But it was never as enjoyable as when they rode together.
Perhaps if there was one moment in time when their relationship altered subtly it could have been when she made that giant leap from child to woman, and she’d informed Mac she could now marry him once she turned sixteen. Mac had been chastened by his father when one of the farmhands overheard Sam inform anyone who would listen of this fact.
Sam got on well with Mac’s parents and failed to see what they found so strange in something she saw as inevitable. From then onwards she knew a certain restlessness and attributed it to all the tiresome business of growing up. She hated the dizzy turns and cramps which curtailed her riding.
Sam shivered as she vividly recalled one day when she’d ridden with Mac to their favorite place beside the river running through the property.
“We’ve always been honest with each other, haven’t we?” He waited until she gave him a nod then went on, still in that serious vein, “We’ve never seen anything wrong with our relationship. To us we see nothing wrong with being friends.” With a sort of hesitancy he’d never shown before, he finished, “People are beginning to talk about us.”
“So?” She gave a whoop of disbelief. The horses lifted their heads to gaze at them, before continuing with their grazing.
“I’m eighteen, Sam, and they think I’ve got funny ideas about you.” He stared into the far yonder again and she nudged his leg. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Not exactly,” she said slowly. Although somewhere deep down she did have a very good idea what he referred to.
“You’ve got to stop touching me. And jumping all over me. And telling everyone we’re going to be married as soon as you’re old enough.” His tone grew very serious, and she stared at his formidable expression. “It was all right when you were just a shrimp, but you’re almost grown up now. And it just won’t do.”
“I don’t believe this. Won’t do?” she yelled, swiping at his leg with a fist. “I don’t care a fig what the silly old goats have to say. I’ve been telling everyone the same thing for years. Why should they take notice all of a sudden?”
“You may not care what they say, but I do. I’m older and, I hope, a little wiser.” She glared at him indignantly. “I won’t have people soiling something that’s innocent with dirty talk. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.” Sam moved onto her knees so she could look straight at him. “But I won’t take any notice.”
“You’d better.” He tugged on her pony tail.
“No way.” With a defensive sigh she moved to sit astride his legs again, ignoring the warning glance he gave her. “I’ll miss you so much when you go away to veterinary college, Mac. Can I just touch you this one last time, just so I’ll have something to remember you by?” With a kind of fascination she watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed.
It always seemed so natural to touch him this way. Always she’d felt the need to communicate what she felt for him through contact. It would be strange not to be able to carry on as she’d been used to. Why were people so horrible?
With a touch of devilment she kissed him then, for the first time, full on his mouth. It amazed her that his lips were so soft; even while she recognized they had grown tight and unyielding.
“Don’t do that. Stupid brat.” He pushed her away. He wasn’t laughing, and his expression was definitely peculiar as he glared at her.
With a soft laugh she put her face very close to his again and grimaced. His scowl grew less fierce and with a sort of groan he declared, “I’ll miss you too, twerp. But how can I become the best vet in the land if I don’t go? And if you insist we’re getting married someday—”
“Soon,” she interrupted.
“I don’t know about that. But if I’m going to be rich and famous I need an education, right? Now, I want you to promise me you’ll ride Pixie often so that when I come home for the holidays I’ll see a clutch of blue ribbons.”
“I promise.” Licking a finger she traced a cross over her heart.
Mac went off to college and she didn’t see him for a year. One long agonizing year. His regular letters were filled with amusing stories about his new friends and their escapades.
One letter had her shedding bitter tears. He’d met Clare Norris. She was from their town and the coincidence of them studying at the same university was incredible. Mac told Sam how popular Clare was with the city-bred boys. That news didn’t surprise her. Clare had always been free and easy, and Sam hated her with a ferocity that grew out of all proportion. It was unreasonable, for Clare did nothing to deserve this hatred—except of course to be up there in Sydney, near Mac.
What was incredible was that Clare, so petite and fragile looking, should be so ambitious. Everyone presumed she would stay home, marry young, and produce a bunch of children. Everyone except Sam. She knew Clare was after Mac. She’d set her sights on a place at the same college as Mac once she’d found out his intentions.
Sam poured out all her adolescent fears and dreams in her letters to Mac. If his return letter didn’t arrive on an expected day she would haunt the post office until Mrs. Cuthrie was forced to admonish, “You’d best forget him, my girl. Those city women have wiles the likes of a country miss like you wouldn’t dream about. He’s gone and got himself mixed up with them ladies up in Sydney. You’ll likely never see him again. It’s the way of men, m’dear, they can’t settle in their hometown once they’ve tasted the high life.”
Sam covered her ears and fled. Mac would never leave her or his town for good. He’d come back. Mac would never desert her.