Chapter Six
Sam slept fitfully, plagued by whispers of memories. She wanted with all that was in her to believe Mac. One thing he was right about was the bond they shared; it was so strong it could never be severed.
When she rose, she stared at herself in the mirror. Dark shadows pooled beneath her eyes. Pulling on a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt she stood brushing her hair when she heard Mac’s voice. She opened the door a fraction.
“No problems, Barbara,” he said. “I’m glad you rang. I called at the station on the way here and Sergeant Baker told me the fugitives are hiding out near Pine Ridge. Apparently the eldest one worked for the electricity department and knows this area like his own back yard. The cops are worried they might make forays into the town for supplies and someone could get hurt trying to protect their own. Graham Tourney was never too bright and his brother trails him like a shadow; poor kid probably hasn’t a clue what’s happening.”
Sam pulled the door closed. So that’s what her mother was up to. Last night, she’d finally convinced her to go along with Marie. While in the shower she’d heard Barbara talking on the phone and wondered who she could have been calling. Now she knew. It appeared her mother had enlisted Mac as Sam’s guardian while she was away.
A thrill of anticipation swept through her, which she tried to ignore as she secured her hair at her nape with a clip.
As Sam opened the door to go out she surprised her mother, who was just about to knock. “Mac’s here.” Her smile was smug as she delivered this piece of news—sounding for all the world as if it was entirely his idea. “He’s wondering if you’d like to go on his rounds with him.”
“And why should I want to do that?” Sam tried to sound indifferent to the suggestion.
“I think it’s a good idea, it’ll keep you out of mischief.”
Sam wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t intending to get up to any mischief.”
“Of course not. But it will be company for you—while I’m away.”
“You can stop pretending it wasn’t your idea, you old busybody.” Poking a hankie in her shorts pocket Sam put an arm about her mother’s waist as they left the room together. “You can go off now, knowing I have a bodyguard.”
“I thought no such thing.” Her mother looked indignant.
Mac lounged at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in his hand. In faded jeans, a short-sleeved cotton shirt, and scuffed desert boots, he’d never looked more handsome. Casually he said, “Thought you might like to keep me company.”
Sam looked at her mother, who was smiling encouragingly, then back to him, her hands in her pockets. “I wouldn’t want to be in your way.”
Standing, he rinsed his cup under the tap, totally at ease, as if yesterday’s conversation hadn’t taken place. “I’d really like you to come. It gets lonely out there sometimes with only the radio for company.”
“In that case, I’ll come. We wouldn’t want you getting lonely would we?” She took the cup of tea Barbara offered her and sat to eat a slice of toast. He leaned back against the sink, talking idly to Barbara and Marie, but she was conscious of his eyes resting on her. Careful not to spill her drink beneath his scrutiny she hurriedly finished the toast and tea. As she got up she brushed her palms together, saying, “I’m ready.”
Sam said goodbye to Marie, and Barbara walked with them to the vehicle parked in the driveway.
Mac held the door for Sam, then turned to Barbara. “Don’t stop for anything or anyone on the road, will you?”
“We won’t—don’t worry about me.” Barbara reached up to kiss Sam.
“And I’ll be fine,” Sam said as Mac climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I know that.” Barbara waved them on their way.
Once alone in the vehicle, the tension between them heightened. “How many cases have you got today?” Sam asked when they were on the highway, more to break this tension than anything else.
“Only three.” Mac took his eyes from the road to glance at her. “Jackie Brown has a few cows for me to look at and then I have to check some cattle at Henderson’s farm. Old Frank Morrow’s pony got in with the oats and has foundered badly. You remember the Morrow’s? They’re over near Pine Ridge. Frank is usually so careful. I can’t understand why he let the pony get into the shed.” He sent her a quick grin. “I usually cadge lunch there.”
A wave of longing swept through her like a tidal wave. They’d always discussed such mundane things as colic, founder and cattle diseases easily. If only they could turn back the clock and start again. She sighed. Why long for what could never be?
“You’re really happy here, aren’t you?”
“Did you doubt I would be?”
No, she never had. Not only did he have a knack for treating sick animals, but he’d always been admired for his way with horses. In the days before he went away to veterinary college, even the most experienced horsemen said he would make a good vet.
“I feel right among these people. They’re down to earth battlers, on the whole, and don’t put on airs to impress anyone. Some of the friends I made at uni were wealthy, and their families had huge properties, but didn’t have a clue how the other half live. Their outlooks were so narrow. Most had no inclination to find out about anyone who lived a different lifestyle. Most of my fellow graduates headed off to practices in the city where they stood to earn fortunes treating pampered pets. That wouldn’t have suited me.”
He slowed down as he glanced her way. “I knew I’d come back here and thought everyone else knew it too.” He looked out his side window, then at her. “I had an incentive to come back.”
“You did?” Sam fiddled with a button on her blouse. “Clare said she almost convinced you to join her in a city practice.”
“Clare.” He gave a grunt of exasperation. “That woman lives by a different set of rules to other people.”
Wasn’t that a fact?
He turned off the highway and silence reigned for a mile before he drove beneath an arched gateway. Mac parked beside a barn that looked as if it would topple over in the next storm. Undoing his seat belt, he then reached into the rear seat. After putting on a wide brimmed hat he handed her a battered hat. “Here, you’d better put this on.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. The hat was one she’d worn on the last day they’d ridden together. One she’d always worn on their rides. One she’d forgotten about. What was it doing in his vehicle? He strode towards a yard where animals were penned, so she followed him.
As he worked, Sam rested her forearms on the fence and watched. He kept up an amiable argument with Jackie Brown. Mac’s body was beautifully proportioned, lean and powerful, his arm muscles rippling beneath taut brown skin.
“Not a bad looking sort you’ve got there.” Jackie nudged Mac as he eyed Sam, grinning. “She’d brighten any man’s day.”
Mac straightened from his task. The smile he sent Sam’s way could only be termed as sultry. It certainly made her feel very hot. “I have to agree with that. She would bring a little sunshine to a dull morning.” Mac winked and Jackie chuckled.
Sam buried her face on her arms. She was beginning to feel a little light-headed, and put it down to the heat.
Mac finished the job, and they said goodbye, then went on to the next farm, owned by the Henderson’s. The air fairly crackled in the cabin of the vehicle and Sam fanned her face with the old hat.
Mrs. Henderson greeted them warmly. “The old fellow’s in the barn,” she said to Mac. To Sam she said, “You come along inside and have a cool drink. What with this heat and the flies, it’s not the best of days to be in that old shed.”
“This job will take a while to do.” Mac smiled as he plonked his hat on. “Best do as Mrs. Henderson suggests.”
Sam was willing to put up with the discomfort just to watch Mac at work, but she couldn’t rebuff the woman’s hospitality, so followed her into the cool kitchen.
Mrs. Henderson bustled about, getting a jug of iced lemona
de from the fridge and putting glasses out. “Our Doctor Mac is just about the best vet we’ve had in these parts in a long time,” she said. Her lavish praise didn’t surprise Sam. Hadn’t she always had faith in his potential?
“Sit down now.” Mrs. Henderson handed Sam a glass of lemonade.
They chatted idly for a half hour or so before the older woman asked, “Are you staying home this time?”
Sam didn’t know what to say. The woman didn’t wait for a reply anyway. “We used to laugh at you when you were a little one, the way you trailed around after Mac. Like a shadow you were, and no one could work out why you went over to the big smoke.” She gave Sam a quizzical look.
Sam glanced towards the door where Mac stood, his expression also questioning. Sam didn’t answer. Mrs. Henderson turned away and Mac went to the sink where he splashed cold water over his face and arms.
Mr. Henderson came in and as the men drank their cordial they talked about the farm and the animals.
Once on the road again the tension returned.
Sam watched the passing scenery for a while, but when she could stand the silence no longer she asked, “How’s Pixie?”
“Fat and lazy.” He sounded angry. “The manager’s son has been getting on her back, but he’s useless and she ambles wherever the fancy takes her. Do you still ride? Of course you don’t. Silly question to ask of a city dweller.”
Sam hated the disdain in his tone. “I haven’t been on a horse since I last rode Pixie.” She played with the chain around her neck, staring out of the window.
“Come riding with me.” It sounded more like an order than an invitation.
“I can’t. I really won’t have time.”
“Of course not.” He muttered what she thought was a curse. “This Peter must be something special if you’re in such a hurry to get back to him.”
Suddenly, he turned off the road onto a rocky and uneven track. They bumped along for a while before he parked in a clearing beneath a large wattle tree.
He unfastened his seat belt and gestured for Sam to do the same. She glanced about. “Why have we stopped here?” There was no farm around for miles, she was sure.
Mac opened her door and offered an arm. “I want to have a look at the pool. Do you remember the time we saw the pair of platypus down there?” His head jerked in the general direction of where she knew the river ran.
Nodding mutely, she recalled the day as if it were yesterday instead of years ago. They’d sat side by side on the bank on such a day as this one. After staring at the still water for so long their eyes ached they’d been rewarded by a sight not seen by many. The quaint creatures swam by and Sam’s squeal of delight sent them into dives, affording them a mere glimpse.
“Well, I haven’t heard of any sightings for a long time,” he said, bending to pick up a sturdy stick. Linking his fingers with hers he pulled her along through the undergrowth, keeping a wary eye out for snakes, while using the stick to beat a path in front of them. “But someone told me they’d seen one near the pool a few weeks ago. I thought it would be nice to spot it.”
An ache that began near her heart spread to every part of her. “It’s awfully overgrown,” she said huskily.
“Sure is.” They reached the river bank, and Mac battened the long grass with the stick. Dipping onto his haunches he gestured for her to do the same alongside him. Wordlessly, they waited. A currawong squawked at this intrusion and flew off. Two butterflies, vividly patterned, settled on a leaf near Sam’s hand. The scrub seemed to close in around them.
Sam watched a dragonfly skimming over the surface of the water, her senses alerted to Mac’s strong presence beside her. His eyes were on her, not the river.
“We’re supposed to be watching for platypus,” she whispered.
“I prefer to look at you.” Lightly, he brushed a finger over her flushed cheek. Then, hooking a tendril of her hair that had strayed from the clip, he stroked it behind her ear. Sam trembled as his finger lingered to smooth a path over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. His breath was warm on her cheek as he leaned closer to say, “You belong here. You can’t mean to marry this city guy.”
Now was the time to tell him. To own up she had no intention of marrying Peter—or anyone.
The clearing where they crouched became a symphony of sound. All she could hear was the bees, insects, birds, and her heart beating a crescendo. His mouth brushed hers and as he said her name softly they sank to the grassy bank. Reaching for him, Sam buried her fingers in his thick hair. His kiss was passionate, yet filled with tender yearning. His mouth possessed her as surely as if it was his powerful body filling hers. Hunger blossomed, wild and frantic, and with a moan of acquiescence she lifted herself into his hands as he stroked her. When he trailed a path down her bare thigh her whimper of pleasure sounded loud. Their breathing grew harsh as he slid a hand beneath her shirt, capturing a breast in his palm to knead and shape it through the flimsy lace of her bra.
The rough pad of his thumb brushed the hardened bud and with his other hand he began to unbutton her shirt, his fingers shaking as he performed the task, his mouth never leaving hers.
With no warning, a scorching pain shot up Sam’s thigh and she screamed. They drew apart, his face showing his shock.
“What the hell?”
Sam jumped to her feet, her hand going to the source of her pain. Her upper leg burned. Mac rose too, slower than she had, a frown creasing his brow. A bump was growing steadily on her scorching leg.
“Bugger! That’s a nasty bite.” He bent to examine the lump more closely and she squeaked as he swung her effortlessly into his arms. Without preamble he strode through the trees, retracing their path down. “I’ve got something in the vehicle to fix it. We have to get it on as quickly as possible.”
“You really didn’t need to carry me.” Sam knew her grumble sounded half-hearted. She was more than happy to be in his arms like this, cradled against his rock hard chest, her breasts pressed to him, his hands beneath her bottom and legs. “It’s only an ant bite, not a deadly snake.”
“But we don’t know how poisonous it was, do we? Best not to move about too much if it’s venomous.” His eyes were crinkled with laughter and she smiled back.
The years rolled away and she was a child again, held safely in the arms of her hero. Linking her hands behind his head she grumbled, “We never got to see the platypus.”
“They’ll be other times.” They reached the vehicle, Mac fumbled with the latch and he held the door open with his shoulder as he placed her gently on the seat. He stared hard at her. “Won’t there?”
Unable to meet his eyes, Sam looked down at her sore leg. Would there ever be another time when they would be together, fancy-free and light-hearted as they’d been for a short time today?
He sighed when it was obvious she wasn’t going to answer. He brought out the first-aid kit and poured some liquid onto a cotton swab. “This will sting.”
Tenderly, he began to pat the sore lump with the swab. His other hand caressed her uninjured thigh, and desire, potent and untamed, began to pump through her. Their eyes locked and she almost swooned with the heated desire in his look.
“Let me know the minute you feel dizzy,” he said huskily. “And we’ll get you to hospital.”
Sam tried to tell him she was already dizzy, and not because of the sting, but because of his nearness and his soft touch. Her body still yearned for him, ached with unfulfilled desire. And if the look on his face told her anything, he felt the same. If she hadn’t been bitten, she would right now be in his arms, possibly allowing him to make love to her.
“We’d better get on.” With one last dab at her leg, he closed the lid of the first-aid kit and went to stash the box in the rear.
Sam felt like screaming that she didn’t want to go anywhere—wanted to stay here in this secluded spot—have him make love to her. But pride sealed her lips.
As he got in and fastened his seat belt, she turned to glance his w
ay. His face was flushed, his jaw rigid. “Now tell me you aren’t attracted to me. I want you, and I’m honest enough to admit my weakness. This may not be the time to discuss it, but this thing has got to be settled between us, once and for all.”
Was this thing he talked about as strong on his part as hers? Perhaps it was just a lingering part of the awakening desire she’d felt for him as a teenager. She’d spent so many hours daydreaming about what it would be like to have Mac kiss her with passion it could well be her fantasies had merely grown and embellished on those daydreams.
She didn’t say anything—what could she say anyway? Where he was concerned, she had a burning need he awakened years ago, which still flared to life each time he touched her.
The short distance they travelled back to the main road was shot with awareness of him. He swung the vehicle off the road onto a farm track, over a cattle-grid and through a dusty lane, to draw up beside a house that looked as if it had grown with the trees about it. A creeping plant hugged the walls of mellowed brick. A car that looked to be about 30 years old sat in the shade of a tree.
A black and white sheepdog welcomed Mac, his tail wagging exuberantly, as they climbed out. “Hello, Scrag.” He bent to pat its curly head. “Sit, boy.” Obediently the dog dropped to the dusty ground, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. Chickens wandered aimlessly about, pecking amid the flowers and grass.
A woman came out of the house that was shielded by a wide veranda. She shushed the chickens out of the way as she greeted them. “Goodness me, if it’s not Sam Frank,” she cried, “And look at you.” She waved a hand. “Twice as lovely as when you were a horse-mad scamp. So, you’re assisting our good veterinarian hey?” With a cheeky grin she winked at Mac. “Come on inside the pair of you. Let’s get you a cool drink.”
Sam’s face was hot as they followed the woman inside the farmhouse to the kitchen. It could have been the woman’s compliment that made her flush. But was more than likely Mac’s warm hand on the small of her back.
“This here sun’s getting fierce. We’ll all shrivel up soon if we don’t get a cool change,” Mrs. Morrow rambled on, her smile contagious. A man sat tying his boot laces, his grey hair falling forward as he bent to his task. “Look Frank, here’s little Sam Frank. Sam Frank, Frank.” She laughed as she put a hand to her bosom. “Goodness me, I sound like an echo, don’t I? Remember when she used to trail our Mac about like the proverbial shadow?” She went to the fridge and poured two glasses of lemonade which she handed to Mac and Sam.
Frank Morrow glanced about, when his eyes lit on his hat, he plonked it on his head. His trousers and rough shirt were un-pressed, but clean. He glanced at Mac, then Sam. “Why aren’t you two married?” he asked bluntly. Sam cleared her throat and refused to look Mac’s way. “We’re off to Launceston. You know where the gelding is, Mac. Shut the door when you leave.”
He went out and his wife picked up a handbag, which she waved their way. “There’s salad in the fridge. I only prepared for one, but you can take care of yourselves, can’t you?”
Sam was still staring open-mouthed after them when the ancient car spluttered to life. It rattled down the lane then everything went quiet. The old clock on the mantelpiece sounded loud as it ticked away the seconds.
Mac drained his glass and she finished her drink. Taking his glass she rinsed them beneath the tap and upended them on the draining board.
“Why aren’t we?” His soft drawl punctured the silence.
“Why aren’t we what?” Her throat went dry as he curled his fingers about her upper arms.
“Married. I’d like to know the answer to that one, too.” Bending, he caught her sigh with his mouth.
Sam pulled back, staring into his eyes. “You know the answer as well as I do.” Trembling, she allowed him to maneuver her body until he had her against the wall. There was no doubting his state when his erection pressed onto her stomach.
Trying to hold herself aloof she closed her eyes, but when he traced a path over her lips with his tongue she began to shake with need and longing. With a sigh of acquiescence she pulled his head down, matching him kiss for kiss.
The need for air ended the kisses, but as he pressed his forehead on hers, his hands roamed urgently over her hips and buttocks, dragging her close, his body undulating in a rhythm that sent her senses spinning out of control.
“No need to tell you how much I want you,” he murmured fiercely at her ear, his breath moist and warm on the delicate shell. “Whatever this relationship is you have over there with this man, it can’t be love.” He pulled back, still keeping their lower halves explicitly joined. “There’s no way you would respond to me this way if you cared for him.”
What could she say? It was true. Taking a step back he gripped the edge of the sink, while she fought for breath. Sam folded her arms across her aching breasts as his eyes went from her heated face down to her toes, setting her alight wherever they lingered.
“This is no place for this.” He dragged in a deep breath as he rubbed his nape. “Come on, let’s go fix this horse, then we’ll find a secluded spot. One where there are no biting ants.”
Linking their fingers he led her out to the yard. Sam’s heart still beat a tattoo inside her breast. Would there ever be a time or a place for them? Perhaps fate was trying to tell her something.
The pony was penned behind the house. Mac put a halter on it and brought it to the fence. “Hang onto this will you?” he asked, handing her the rope.
Crooning softly to the animal Mac ran his hands over its legs, examining each hoof.
It was so peaceful. The whisper of the fluttering leaves and the cows moving about in the adjoining paddock was all that could be heard. Sam became wrapped up once again in all that made up this man. His clean male scent mingled with the smell of horseflesh, and she was thrown back in time to her childhood when she’d poured all her hopes and dreams for the future into him. It had always been so—until that evening.
Mac straightened, frowning as he looked about. Vaguely she registered that the dog was barking. She’d been so engrossed in her dreaming it hadn’t impinged on her reminiscences.
“Scrag!” Mac’s yell made her jump, and a hundred birds flew up in panic. A gunshot echoed across the paddocks and the horse whinnied loudly as it moved about restlessly.
Lonely Pride Page 20