by Sarah Lark
It was as though a spell had been cast on her when he finally let go.
“And a happy New Year to you, Gwyneira,” said James.
The guests’ reactions at the party, not least of all Gerald’s breakdown, confirmed Gwyneira’s decision to effect a pregnancy with or without Lucas’s assistance. It had nothing to do with James and their kiss at midnight, of course—that had been a mistake, and the next day Gwyneira didn’t even know herself what had come over her. Fortunately, James McKenzie behaved just as he always had.
She would see to the business of getting pregnant without interference from her emotions. It was just like breeding, after all. At this thought, she suppressed an absurd, hysterical giggle. Being absurd was not appropriate. The situation called for sober consideration of who would make a good candidate for the father of the child. This was in part a matter of discretion, but above all, one of inheritance. The Wardens, Gerald especially, could not be allowed to entertain any doubts that their heir was of their blood. As for Lucas, that was a bit more complicated, but if he was sensible, he would hold his peace. Gwyneira was not too worried. Her husband was overly cautious, stiff, and not very good under pressure, true, but he had never proved irrational. Besides, it was in his own best interest that the innuendo and teasing by others at his and her expense be stopped.
Gwyneira began to seriously consider what her and Lucas’s child might look like. Her mother and all her sisters were redheads, so that seemed to be hereditary. Lucas was towheaded, but James had brown hair…however, Gerald also had brown hair. And he had brown eyes. So if the child took after James, one could claim he looked like his grandfather.
Eye color: blue and gray…and brown if she took Gerald into account. Build…that worked. James and Lucas were roughly the same height, Gerald considerably shorter and stockier. She too was markedly shorter. But it just had to be a boy and he would no doubt take after his father. Now she just needed to convince James…but why James specifically? Gwyneira decided to put off the decision a bit longer. After all, maybe tomorrow her heart wouldn’t beat quite so quickly when she thought of James McKenzie.
The next day she came to the conclusion that there was no one other than James who could serve as the father of her child. But then again, maybe she should consider a stranger? She thought about the “lonesome cowboys” in the penny dreadfuls. They came and went and would never learn about the child if they were just passing through…maybe one of the shearers? No, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Besides, the sheep shearers came back every year. Not to mention what would happen if the man talked, gloating that he had slept with the lady of Kiward Station. No, that was out of the question. She needed a man she trusted, one who was understanding and discreet and, moreover, who only had good traits to pass on to the child.
Gwyneira reviewed all the candidates carefully in her mind. Feelings, she convinced herself, did not play a role in this.
She chose James.
10
“All right, to begin with…I’m not in love with you!”
Gwyneira wasn’t sure that that was the best way to broach the subject, but it burst out of her when she next found herself alone with James McKenzie. A week had passed since the party. The last guests had left the day before, and Gwyneira could finally get back on her horse. Lucas had begun work on a new painting. The brightly lit garden had inspired him, and he was working on a party scene. Gerald had done little other than drink all week and was now sleeping off his hangover. And McKenzie planned to return the sheep that had been used for the demonstration back into the highlands. The dogs had demonstrated their skills several times over the last week, and five guests had purchased a total of eight pups. Cleo’s puppies were not among them, however; they were to remain at Kiward Station as breeding stock and now accompanied their mother during sheep herding. Though they occasionally tripped over their own legs, their talent was unmistakable.
James had been pleased when Gwyneira joined him for the sheep herding. However, he had become wary as she rode next to him in silence. Finally, she took a deep breath to begin the conversation. He seemed to find her remark funny.
“Of course you’re not in love with me, miss. Where would I ever have gotten that idea?” he said, fighting a smile.
“Don’t mock me, Mr. McKenzie. I have something very serious to discuss with you.”
James looked at her, shocked. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to. I thought it was what you wanted too…the kiss, I mean. But if you want me to go…”
“Forget the kiss,” Gwyneira said. “This is regarding something very different, Mr. McKenzie…ahem, James. I…wanted to ask you for some help.”
James stopped his horse. “Whatever you want, miss. I would never deny you anything.”
He looked her straight in the eye, which made it difficult for her to continue.
“But it’s rather…it’s not proper.”
James smiled. “I’m not all that concerned with what’s proper. I’m not a gentleman, miss. I believe we’ve talked about that before.”
“That’s a shame, Mr. McKenzie, namely because…what I wanted to ask you…it requires the discretion of a gentleman.”
Gwyneira was turning red. What would become of her once she stated what she had in mind?
“Perhaps a man of honor’s enough,” ventured James. “Someone who keeps his word.”
Gwyneira considered that for a moment. She nodded.
“Then you must promise to tell no one whether you…we…go through with it or not.”
“Your wish is my command. I’ll do whatever you ask me to.” Once again James had that glint in his eye. Today, however, it was not playful, but more like a supplication.
“That’s not very wise,” Gwyneira chided him. “You don’t even know what I want. Imagine if I wanted you to murder someone.”
James had to laugh. “Now, out with it, Gwyn! What do you want? Shall I kill your husband? That’s worth a thought. Then afterward I’d have you all to myself.”
Gwyneira looked at him, horrified. “Don’t say such things! That’s terrible.”
“The thought of killing your husband or of belonging to me?”
“Neither…both…oh, now you’ve got me all mixed up!” Gwyneira was almost ready to give up.
James whistled for the dogs and got off his horse. Then he helped Gwyneira out of the saddle. She let him. It was exciting but also comforting to feel his arms on her.
“All right, Gwyn. Now let’s sit down here, and you can tell me nice and easy what’s on your mind. And then I can say yes or no. And I won’t laugh; I promise.”
McKenzie removed a blanket from his saddle, spread it out, and motioned for Gwyneira to sit.
“All right, good,” she said softly. “I need to have a baby.”
James smiled. “No one can force you to.”
“I want to have a baby,” Gwyneira corrected herself. “And I need a father for it.”
James frowned. “I don’t understand…you’re already married.”
Gwyneira felt his proximity and the warmth of the ground beneath her. It was so pleasant sitting here in the sun, and it was so good to finally get it off her chest. Yet she couldn’t help but burst into tears.
“Lucas…he can’t manage it. He is a…no, I can’t say it. Anyway…I’ve never bled and it’s never hurt.”
McKenzie smiled and took her gently into his arms. He kissed her lightly on the temple. “I can’t guarantee that it’ll hurt, Gwyn. I’d rather you enjoyed it.”
“The main thing is that you do it right, so that I have a baby,” Gwyneira whispered.
James kissed her again. “You can trust me.”
“So you’ve done it before?” Gwyneira asked seriously.
James choked back a laugh. “A time or two, Gwyn. Like I said, I’m not a gentleman.”
“Good. You see, it has to happen quickly. Otherwise, there’s too much of a risk that we’ll be found out. When should we do it? And where?”
&nbs
p; James stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, and tickled her upper lip with his tongue.
“It doesn’t have to happen quickly, Gwyneira. And you also can’t be sure that it takes the first time. Even if we do everything right.”
Gwyneira looked suspicious. “Why not?”
James sighed. “Look, Gwyn, you know about animals…what’s it like with mares and stallions?”
She nodded. “When the time is right, one go is enough.”
“When the time’s right. That’s just it.”
“The stallion senses it…does that mean that you don’t sense it?”
James didn’t know if he should laugh or feel insulted. “No, Gwyneira. People are different in that respect. We always want to make love, not just on the days when a woman can become pregnant. So it might be that we have to try it a few times.”
James looked around. Their location was quite good, pretty far in the highlands. There was no danger of anyone riding by. The flock had scattered to graze, the dogs were keeping an eye on them, and he had tied the horses to a tree that could offer them shade.
James stood up and offered Gwyneira his hand. As she got up, bewildered, he spread the blanket out in the semishade. He embraced Gwyneira, picked her up, and laid her down on the blanket. He carefully opened her blouse and kissed her. His kisses set her on fire, and when he touched her most intimate parts, he set off sensations like Gwyneira had never felt before, spiriting her away to a state of bliss. When he finally pushed into her, she felt a brief flash of pain that then dissolved in a delirium of sensation. It was as though she’d always been seeking someone and had now finally found him—as though they were indeed the “soul mates” he had recently teased her about. Afterward, they lay next to each other, half-naked and exhausted, but infinitely happy.
“So would you be against it if we had to do it several times?” James asked.
Gwyneira beamed at him. “I’d say,” she replied, striving for a properly serious tone, “we should do it just as much as necessary.”
They did it whenever they found an opportunity. Gwyneira especially lived in fear of being caught and preferred abstention to taking even the slightest risk. Finding credible excuses to disappear together were hard to come by, so it took several weeks before Gwyneira was pregnant. They were the happiest weeks of her life.
When it rained, James made love to her in the shearing warehouses that had been abandoned since the shearing was done. They held each other in their arms and listened to the raindrops on the roof, snuggling close and telling each other stories. James laughed at the Maori legend of rangi and papa and suggested that they make love again to comfort the gods.
When the sun shone, they made love in the silky golden tussocks of grass in the hills, to the accompaniment of the steady chewing of the horses who grazed nearby. They kissed in the shadows of the mighty stones on the plains, and Gwyneira talked about the enchanted soldiers while James maintained that the stone circles in Wales were part of a love spell.
“Do you know the story of Tristan and Isolde? They loved each other, but her husband couldn’t know about it, and so the elves made a circle of stone around their bed in the fields to remove them from the world’s gaze.”
They made love on the shores of ice-cold crystal clear mountain lakes, and one time James even convinced Gwyneira to take off all her clothes and get into the water with him. Gwyneira reddened all over. She couldn’t remember having been fully naked since childhood. Yet James told her she was so beautiful that rangi would become jealous if she continued standing on papa’s solid ground, and pulled her into the water, where she clamped onto him, screeching.
“Can’t you swim?” he inquired, disbelieving.
Gwyneira spat out water. “Where was I supposed to learn how? In the bathtub at Silkham Manor?”
“You traveled halfway around the world on a ship and couldn’t swim?” James shook his head but now held her tightly. “Weren’t you afraid?”
“I would have been more afraid if I’d had to swim. Now stop talking and teach me how! It can’t be that hard; even Cleo can do it.”
Gwyneira learned in no time how to keep herself above water, then lay exhausted and frozen on the lakeshore while James caught fish, then grilled them over an open fire. Gwyneira always loved it when he found something edible in the wild and served it to her then and there. She called it their “wilderness survival” game, and James knew how to play superbly. The wild seemed to be a cafeteria for him. He shot birds and rabbits, caught fish, and collected roots and strange fruits. In that sense, he mirrored the pioneer of Gwyneira’s dreams. Sometimes she thought about what it would be like to be married to him and run a small farm like Helen and Howard. James wouldn’t leave her alone all day; they would instead share all the work together. She dreamed of plowing with a horse, of working side by side in the garden, and of watching James teaching a young red-haired boy how to fish.
She had woefully neglected Helen during this time, but Helen did not even mention it when Gwyneira appeared at her place with a happy demeanor but a grass-stained dress, after James had ridden on into the highlands. “I have to ride to Haldon, but help me brush off my dress first, please. It’s somehow gotten dirty.”
Gwyneira was supposedly riding to Haldon three to four times a week. She claimed to have joined a housewives club. Gerald was ecstatic about it, and Gwyneira did indeed return home every week with new recipes that she had had Mrs. Candler dash off for her. Lucas seemed to find it rather strange, but he didn’t have any objections either; he was happiest when people left him alone.
Gwyneira gave a sewing circle as an excuse, James missing sheep. They thought up names for their favorite meeting places in the wild, and awaited one another there, making love against the backdrop of the mountains on clear days or under a provisional tent consisting of James’s waxed coat when the fog rolled in. Gwyneira once pretended to quake with shame under the curious gaze of a couple of keas who arrived to pilfer the remains of their picnic, and James took off half-naked after two kiwis that tried to make off with the belt he had dropped in the dirt.
“Thieving as magpies!” he called out, laughing. “No wonder people named the immigrants after them.”
Gwyneira looked at him, confused. “Most of the immigrants I know are very respectable people,” she objected.
James nodded grimly. “Toward other immigrants. But look how they behave toward the Maori. Do you believe the land for Kiward Station was bought at a fair price?”
“Since the treaty of Waitangi, doesn’t all land belong to the Crown?” Gwyneira inquired. “The queen certainly wouldn’t let herself be fleeced.”
James laughed. “That would be unlikely. According to what I’ve heard, she’s got a good head for business. But for that reason the land still belongs to the Maori. The Crown only has the right of preemption. Which naturally guarantees people a certain baseline price. But for one thing, that’s not how the world works, and for another, even now not all of the chiefs have signed the treaty. The Kai Tahu, for example, haven’t as far as I know.”
“The Kai Tahu are our people?” Gwyneira asked.
“You’ve got it,” James replied. “Of course they’re not really ‘our people.’ They merely carelessly sold the land on which their village rests to Mr. Warden because they let themselves be tricked. That in itself shows how unfairly the Maori have been treated.”
“But they seem perfectly happy,” Gwyneira objected. “They’re always very nice to me. And they’re often not even there.” Whole Maori tribes occasionally took long treks to other hunting grounds and fishing areas.
“They still haven’t figured out how much money they’ve been swindled out of,” James said. “But the whole thing is a powder keg. If the Maori ever have a chief who learns to read and write, there will be trouble. But forget all that for now, my sweet. Shall we try again?”
Gwyneira laughed at his words. It was the same way Lucas prefaced their efforts in the marriage bed. But what a diff
erence between Lucas and James!
Gwyneira increasingly enjoyed the physical act of love the more time she spent with James. At first he was tender and gentle, but when he recognized the passion that was awakening within Gwyneira, he loved to play with the tigress within her. Gwyneira had always liked wild games and she loved it when James moved inside her quickly, bringing their intimate dance to a passionate crescendo. With every new tryst, she cast more of her reservations about propriety aside.
“Does it work if I lie on top of you instead of the other way around?” she asked at one point. “You’re kind of heavy, you know.”
“You were born to ride,” James said, laughing. “I always knew that. Try it sitting down, then you’ll have more freedom to move.”
“Now how do you know all that?” Gwyneira asked suspiciously, when, intoxicated with happiness, she later snuggled her head onto his shoulder, the commotion inside her slowly ebbing away.
“You don’t want to know that,” he dodged.
“I do. Have you already loved a girl? I mean, properly, from your heart…so much that you would have died for her, like in books?” Gwyneira sighed.
“No, not until now. Though one rarely learns these things with the love of one’s life. Rather, it’s an education you have to pay for.”
“Men can be instructed in this sort of thing?” Gwyneira asked, astonished. Those must have been the only lessons that Lucas ever skipped. “And girls just get thrown into the deep end? Seriously, James, no one tells us what to expect.”
James laughed. “Oh, Gwyn, you’re so innocent, but you’ve got an instinct for the most important things. I can imagine those teaching positions would be highly sought after.” Over the next quarter of an hour, he imparted a lesson on how love could be bought. Gwyn vacillated between disgust and fascination.