Lonely Pride

by Tricia McGill

  * * *

  Sam’s heart constricted as she entered the shadowy barn, gazing up into the dusty rafters that had seen so many happy times, and witnessed the saddest of all. She inhaled the familiar smell of horseflesh, hay, and old leather.

  No, she would never think of that night again, ever.

  Swallows dipped and dived overhead as she patted the velvety nose of the nearest horse that stretched inquisitively over the half door of his stall.

  “Sam.” She jumped as Mr. Boswell came out of the office at the far end of the building. “Well, well, what a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?” He held out a welcoming hand and she shook it. “Suppose you’re after Mac, eh? He’s working on his house. He said to send you over when you turned up.”

  “He was expecting me?” she asked tentatively.

  He grinned. “Humph, actually he said if you turn up would I ask you to go out there.”

  “Oh.” She looked about. “Is there a horse I can ride?”

  “Take Pixie. The fat old thing could do with some exercise. She doesn’t get a lot of work these days. Are you back for good?”

  “Yes.” She nervously twisted the bracelet on her wrist.

  “Good. Perhaps now she’ll get the gallops she needs.”

  Sam wasn’t about to tell him she wouldn’t be galloping on any horse for a while. He went to the tack room and came back with a saddle and bridle.

  “Come on, I’ll carry the gear across to the yard,” he said. He strolled out and Sam followed him. The mare’s ears pricked and she whickered softly at the sound of her familiar voice. Sam stroked the soft neck.

  “I’ll saddle her,” she said, but Mr. Boswell did the task, cheerfully chatting about the other horses while he worked.

  “Come on, up you get.” He gave her a leg up and when the stirrups were adjusted, patted her thigh. “Glad you decided to come home to us,” he said, his eyes twinkling with sincerity.

  “And I’m glad I came. I’ve been a fool.”

  His head shook vigorously. “Get along with you.” He gave Pixie a slap on the rump and they ambled out of the yard.

  Pixie was attentive, her ears upright as they headed for the open paddocks. Sam was glad of the warm sweater she wore. The rain had gone and the sun peeked weakly through the clouds, but the wind had a chill to it. Following the river she knew just what route to take. Suddenly she felt breathless. The outline of a house stood out starkly against the grey of the sky. As she neared, she saw it sat on a summit of a rise a couple of hundred meters from the riverbank.

  The window frames were glassless but the roof appeared to be finished. Even in its incomplete state there was little doubt it would be a splendid construction. Handsomely built; with a gabled roof and a wide veranda around the entire lower floor. The huge window facing the river would give a commanding view of the surrounding countryside.

  Rasputin, Mac’s stallion, grazed near the front of the house. His proud head shot up and he called loudly to Pixie as they approached. Mac was nowhere to be seen. It was very quiet, so it didn’t sound as if he was working inside the house.

  As she dismounted, she asked softly, “Hello boy, where’s your master?”

  Tethering Pixie nearby, she called Mac’s name, but got no answer. Sam walked towards the river; to the old gum tree whose branches spread upwards and outwards as they had for years.

  Mac sat sprawled beneath the tree, his eyes closed. Hands clasped behind his head he seemed to be perfectly at ease. Silently she approached, but obviously not quietly enough, for as she hovered nearby, he drawled, “Hello, Kitten. What took you so long?”

  Was he asking what had taken her so long to come to her senses or was he meaning a long time to ride out here now?

  “I saw you coming through the far gate ages ago. I told you Pixie is fat and lazy, didn’t I? In the old days you would have galloped here in five minutes.”

  His eyes opened and he surveyed her lazily, taking in the blush she knew colored her cheeks, the hair disheveled from her ride. But this was Mac, who had seen her at her worst. Her toes curled inside her boots.

  When she found her voice, she said huskily, “I couldn’t go any faster.” Rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, she added, “I’m not certain I should be riding at all.”

  That brought him to attention. He sat up, alert. “And why is that?”

  Sam bit on the end of one finger as she said evasively, “Well, in my condition some people reckon it’s not recommended a woman rides.”

  “Condition?” He was on his feet in a heartbeat.

  “Yes, as in pregnant.” Her voice shook and her limbs grew quite useless this near to him.

  “Oh God.” Self-recrimination filled his eyes and he ran a hand through his hair. He clasped both her arms, just above her elbows. “I’m so sorry. I felt so guilty after you left. Then I remembered we hadn’t taken precautions. I was so desperate with wanting you after all those years of waiting I lost control. You set me on fire.” His words were muttered an inch away from her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  Sam pressed two fingers over his mouth, but he took her hand in his and his mouth covered hers—so warm, and oh so welcome. She melted into him as a large hand cupped her head, the other one pressing onto her back to bring her into the cradle of his body. They were so close she could feel his heart thudding, even through their thick sweaters.

  Curling his fingers into her hair, he deepened the kiss, his tongue dueling with hers. Sam moaned as his kiss touched her soul, transported her to a place she knew she would only ever share with him.

  When at last they drew apart, she traced a path over his beautiful mouth. “You do want our baby, don’t you?” she murmured. Sam searched his troubled eyes. Her heart beat frantically in her breast, more, she knew, with trepidation than the after-effects of his kiss. “I want it. So much. It’s yours and I’ve wanted your baby for as long as I can remember.” What would she do if he refused to accept this child as his?

  When a smile filled with tenderness replaced his frown she couldn’t hold back the tears. They streamed down her cheeks. With his thumbs he wiped them away, bending to place a soft kiss beneath each eye, softly licking at the moisture there. “You really want it, Sam? You’re sure?”

  “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything,” she whispered, kissing his fingertips when they lingered near her mouth. “Dearest Mac, I want it so desperately.”

  “Then I do, too.” He pressed a kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wings on her lips then breathed in deeply. “I think deep down it was my intention. I wouldn’t have been so careless with you. I wanted my seed to grow in my woman. It sounds perfect to me. After all, we waited ten long years since you first told me you wanted my baby.” He chuckled as he nuzzled her throat. It was the most wonderful sound she’d ever heard.

  “Since the first time you tried to draw my attention to your blossoming womanhood I’ve wanted to strip you and take those delectable breasts into my mouth.”

  “Is that so? I would never have known,” she said softly, teasingly.

  “I used to lie in my bed in a fever of desire and dream of you. Dreaming of what it would be like to kiss you all over. To taste your warm scented skin. Ah, what agony.” He swallowed, his head going back. “I often thought I’d go stark raving mad if I didn’t kiss you. And right now I’m going a bit crazy wanting to taste you again.”

  His mouth took hers, almost savagely, and her senses leapt. Grinding his lower body against hers, he left her with no doubts about his arousal. Erotically he moved, wrapping his arms about her in an embrace as sensuous as it was thrilling.

  “Are you sure, Mac?” She shivered when he drew back a fraction to kiss his way down her jaw to her neck, then collarbone.

  “Are you mad?” he asked hoarsely. “My life would be hell without you. Was an empty void when you were away. There’s a special bond between us that can never be severed. I’ve suffered agonies thinking I might have driven you away forever.”


  Nimbly pushing his sweater up, she undid the buttons of his shirt, reveling in the rise and fall of his chest as she touched the mat of dark hair on his chest. “And I nearly died when I thought you didn’t want me in your life.” He shuddered when she placed a kiss on the hard flesh she’d uncovered.

  “My life is nothing without you.” Gently he brought her fingertips to his lips, nibbling on the soft pads. Sam sighed with pleasure, and then gasped as he sucked each one into the hot cavern of his mouth. “I love you with every fiber of my being and can’t wait to marry you.”

  “You don’t have to marry me just because I’m carrying your child, you know,” she said, a whimsical doubt rising.

  “We’ll get married because I’m crazy in love with you. The baby’s a bonus. Wherever you are then I want to be with you. We’ll be just like we were when we were young, always together—the way we were meant to be.” His gaze searched her face.” As long as that’s what you want.”

  “It’s what I dream of.” Her lips trembled, as she looked into his eyes; so dark, so filled with his feelings. “I’m a little afraid.”

  “You? Afraid of what?” A small frown creased his brow as he pressed a kiss on her forehead,

  “Scared of wanting you too much, of loving you so desperately,” she admitted with a tremulous sigh.

  He laughed; a sound of pure happiness. “There’s no such thing as too much love. We’ll forever be contesting to see who loves the other the more, you wait and see. I’ll always give you everything that’s within my power.”

  “Oh, Mac.” Sam sighed blissfully.

  “Now,” he said with a grin. “Would you like to see over your house?”

  “My house, eh?”

  “Yes, from the first draft of the plans to the final layout, it was always planned with you in mind.” He put an arm about her waist and held her close to his side as they headed up the slope. Although twilight had descended there was just enough light to see their way.

  Sam circled his strong body with her arms, loving the scent of him surrounding her.

  “You know, of course, that Clare lost her baby,” he said quietly.

  She nodded, her cheek rubbing on the soft wool of his sweater. “She came to see me. I guess Mum told you. Clare told me all I wanted to know.” She stopped him with a palm on his chest. “I feel so awful for doubting you. How can you ever forgive me?”

  He kissed her senseless. “I’d forgive you anything, you should know that.” They began to walk again. “Let’s never mention Clare again, huh? I’ve always loved you and I’m never letting you out of my sight from now on.”

  Another deep kiss detained them as they reached the porch. “I love you so,” she whispered as she traced his lips with a trembling finger.

  Mac lifted her easily, and carried her into the house. As he lowered her to the wooden floorboards she would have fallen if he hadn’t held her securely. Her limbs had melted, until she felt as soft and molten as honey.

  Kissing her with that blend of sensitivity and passion that was his alone he took her to paradise. “Let me show you around,” he murmured when he released her lips.

  He picked up a torch and linked their fingers together. A cheerful fire crackled in the open fireplace dominating the main room, and he bent to put a log on it from a stack at the side of the grate. Sparks flew up the chimney and in the brief light his eyes glowed.

  When they went to what he said was to be the main bedroom, he said, “We’ll have a panoramic view from our bed.” He pulled her over to the window she’d seen from outside. “Not that we’ll be looking at the scenery—at least until we grow bored with each other, which in my case will be in about eighty years.” He grinned.

  A cool breeze blew through the bare window frame, and he swung her into his arms again to carry her back to the main room.

  An owl hooted nearby and the shadows of swaying trees cast flickering images on the walls as he lowered her slowly before the fire. By the time they were pressed together, skin to skin, she was burning.

  He left her for a moment to spread a blanket on the floorboards. As she lay back, she was barely aware of the hardness beneath her back. He stood poised above her for a moment and she realized she was holding her breath. He was perfect. Tall and athletic, slim of hips, long in the leg, every muscle and sinew testament to his vitality and strength.

  “Sam, my love,” he whispered as he came down beside her, half covering her with his body. Arching her back, she made a yearning sound in her throat when his mouth returned to its previous adulation of her body.

  Sam drifted, falling into a bottomless pit of desire. Her world became light and color, sensation, erotic pleasure, as her muted cries mingled with his masculine groans of satisfaction.

  The desire flaring between them was ecstasy, and a kind of sweet agony. “Love me, Mac,” she pleaded in a voice that seemed to come from afar.

  “I will, I do,” he vowed, moving between her welcoming legs.

  She met his rhythm, melded her mouth to his, so their cries of wonder mingled as their breath did. The smooth rhythms of their bodies drove them to the pinnacle of fulfilment.

  When they were able to breathe again, he supported himself on his elbows. The firelight played across his sweat-dampened skin as he stroked her hair back tenderly, then pressed a series of kisses over her face.

  Hesitatingly she stroked back the lock of hair clinging damply to his forehead. “I would never have got engaged to Peter, you know. I didn’t even like him much, let alone had any intention of marrying the wimp.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that. Now,” he said huskily, moving inside her so that everything else was forgotten, but Mac and the ecstasy he could bring her. “We’ll have no more talk of anything but you and I...and this.”

  She moaned as he took them once again to the place where they were, for a fragment of time, as one.