Mistaken Mistress

by Margaret Way

  Silently they made their way through the entrance into the naturally created amphitheatre. Eden staring around her with wonder. Another Outback phenomenon! Lush havens in the middle of a rugged, extremely dry terrain. River she-oaks grew along the creek, many coloured bottlebrushes, and quite unexpectedly stands of flowering wild hibiscus, here pink, there yellow with other shrubs covered in red flowers much like frangipani. With the canyon shaded by its high walls for much of the day numerous delicate plants were able to thrive. Ferns, mosses, orchids, native violets, and beautiful little wildflowers with faces of great charm. Great boulders, too, littered the canyon floor, some of fantastic shape. Some standing vertically, as tall as Lang. It was very still as they picked their way around them, the temperature much cooler in the canyon than the heat of the savannah. Eden found the idea of splashing her face and hands in the clear fresh stream irresistible. It didn’t matter if in doing so she wet her trainers and the hem of her cotton jeans. They would soon dry off in the hot sun.

  “That was so refreshing!” She came back to Lang, turning up a joyous face to the sun. “This is a fantastic place,” she laughed, holding her damp shirt from her breasts. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” His voice mocked and indulged her. “However, here’s your hat.” He had been holding it now he handed it back to her with a snap.

  She shoved the akubra back on her head not caring that with her hair tied in a thick plait she looked little more than a schoolgirl. “With you around I never get to remove it.” It was said with the greatest good humour and the touching innocence of a girl.

  He didn’t much care for it now when he was spending his time coping with insistent sexual pressure. He watched her move ahead, with delicate grace, her footing light and sure. Here and there she touched a hand to some of the smooth boulders, turning to exclaim to him in surprise when she found the seemingly smooth surface surprisingly rough in texture.

  “The boulders contain feldspar, quartz, other minerals, that’s why,” he called in his role of Big Brother.

  When the rocky gaps became a little difficult to negotiate, she hesitated. “You’ll have to give me a hand, Lang. Or shouldn’t we take this route? Some of these boulders seem to be balanced rather precariously?” She looked up. They were, in fact, one on top of the other.

  “Just hang on there,” he warned her immediately, quickening his pace. He’d been deriving so much pleasure from just looking at her exploring he had deliberately hung back. It was another way of handling his ever-present urge to make love to her. That wasn’t going to happen until she was ripe for it. This visit, though miraculously harmonious in some ways had been very hard on him. He was a fiercely passionate man who couldn’t display it. Playing Big Brother to this particular young woman was excruciating. Once he had his hands on her; around her narrow waist, he couldn’t seem to take them away. It was harder than anything he had ever done though he knew by now he had never even approached this level of feeling.

  But she astonished him. Standing on the rock above him, she leaned over him, beautiful violet eyes fixed on his face, her hands slipping along his shoulders. “I don’t understand a damn thing about myself,” she confessed solemnly. “I’ve loved being here with you, yet in some ways it’s been a penance.”

  He could empathize with that right through to his bones. “Yes,” he answered harshly, before he completely lost it. “Don’t start anything you can’t stop. Aren’t you the girl who told me she wasn’t ready to join the grown-ups?”

  To Eden, after their remarkable affinity of the morning, it seemed like a total breath-taking rebuff. “All right, I understand.” She straightened up immediately, experiencing deep painful flickers of humiliations. “Has it got something to do with Lara’s turning up?”

  Desire surged then burned its way through him. He welcomed it even as it consumed him with an odd sexual hostility. “You don’t understand a damn thing.”

  For an instant more she stood motionless, incredibly still, then she said, very softly, “Go to hell!”

  Before he could stop her, she stepped straight off the boulder onto the next one, apparently in a great hurry to get away from him and wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

  “Eden!” his voice cracked out urgently, the sharpness of his tone echoing down the empty canyon. The scratches on her back from the sea eagle attack hadn’t even faded almost a fortnight later yet now she was risking possible injury to her ankle. God, she pressed him hard, inciting every known emotion in him.

  Within a few feet she lost her footing, just as he feared, slipping down a high boulder, feet scrabbling for purchase before she hit the sand. He felt the shuddering vibration as though it had hit his own spine. “Damn it, Eden!” He moved easily over the rocks from long experience, jumping the last few feet. “Don’t you know how to play it safe?”

  “I guess not.” She was careful not to get up. Not for a minute or two, though she was certain she had done no more than jar her body. Serve her right!

  He was almost tempted to slap her, fingers itching. Anything to make contact. Instead he crouched down, staring at her. “It’s a wonder you’ve got breath left in your body. How’s your back? There’s grit all over your shirt.” He brushed at it. “As if those scratches weren’t enough.”

  “Want to heal me?” The words burst from her mouth. Not provocatively but practically a plea.

  “I can take a look.” No matter how badly he wanted it, if he began to make love to her he knew he wouldn’t stop. He rolled her very gently, loosening her shirt from her jeans, hitching it up. He could smell the special fragrance that came off her skin, like a field of wildflowers mixed with the heat off her body. Clean, womanly, intensely attractive.

  She lay perfectly still, skin quivering, her breath ragged, heart drumming into the sand. He hadn’t touched her yet she thought she might pass out from an excess of sensation. And then he did, his touch exquisitely gentle, but leaving a trail of fire….

  The long scratches to one side of her back had healed quickly and well. Soon they would be invisible, yet the sight of them on her beautiful skin upset him. Her shirt had greatly diminished grazing but she winched slightly when he touched a reddened area.

  “Okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said stoically, knowing her fit of bravado could have ended in worse injury.

  “You can take a deep breath?”

  “Sure I can.”

  He pulled down her shirt, let it hang loose. “So all’s well that ends well!”

  She sat up, not looking at him. Her hat had come off during her wild slide. She didn’t know where it had landed. Didn’t care. One glance into his silver eyes and she’d be in over her head, much like the peaceful shallow creek that ran in front of her could turn into a torrent.

  He helped her regain her footing, though he noticed she was very careful not to cling to him, staring sightlessly at the glinting sand.

  Only he couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Come here.” He pulled her in to him, holding her tightly to his body. The knowledge that he could do no more than kiss her only deepened the painful ache of desire. “You know how much I want you?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  “We’re quite alone. No one will come. I could take you easily only I can’t let you down. I don’t want you waking up one morning to find yourself pregnant. I don’t want you experiencing any fears, Eden.” He felt her tremble, misinterpreted it. “I’m not going to seduce you.”

  It was her chance to say she desperately wanted him to; that it was an okay time for her, only some semblance of sense remained. Soon they would have to go back to the homestead. She knew if they made love she couldn’t possibly hide that fact from anyone. Everything about her would scream the message. Echoes to follow. Wave after wave of them.

  He let a kiss trail down over her face, his hard passion deliberately channelled towards tender and protective, until he reached
her mouth. It was pure ecstasy. With his hands he found her beautiful breasts, his fingers slipping buttons so he could caress them more intimately. She let him. Not staying him for a moment.

  I want to be inside her, he thought recklessly. I want to finish what I start. I want to adore her. She had to cling to him while he muttered, “Oh God, Oh God,” over and over into her ear. How did one define love? he thought in some torment. Seizing the moment no matter what? Or caring for what came after? He was hyper-aware of the effect her mother’s sad life had had on her. He used to have wonderful control. Surely to God it wasn’t shot to hell?

  “We can’t continue like this,” he warned her, even as his mouth burnished the skin of her neck. It was the truth. But how to act on it? It was difficult when she wasn’t helping him, responding to his every touch as though it lifted her to heaven.

  Help came like something out of a storybook. At first he couldn’t believe it. As he stood with Eden’s dark curly head tucked beneath his chin he sensed rather than saw movement at the canyon’s entrance. His eyes narrowed, body tensing. There were dingoes in the area. He had seen giant goannas before today. Before long he saw what had caused it, amazed at how fanciful it seemed. The greatest, most extravagantly beautiful surprise. Like an omen. He spoke barely above a whisper so as not to startle Eden or the graceful intruder that moved into his line of vision. “Don’t move. Look towards the entrance.”

  Eden lifted her head slowly, arrested by a note approaching awe in Lang’s vibrant voice. Even alerted, she couldn’t control her gasp of absolute delight. Knife-keen pleasure shot through her. An exceptionally beautiful, pure white horse was wandering down the canyon, most probably seeking water. Mane and tail turned to platinum as the sunlight poured down on it. Eden had seen nothing like this before. She drank in the sight as though this vision like some mythical unicorn had been sent especially to help her through an enormously fraught time. The horse, which was light and smallish, put her in mind of the Spanish-bred Andalusian. It turned right on, ears pricking. Not nervous, excited though, it had scented them already. There was little breeze in the canyon to carry their scent away from it. Yet the horse seemed to accept their presence. It walked on to the water, bowing its delicate head to the stream.

  They stood perfectly still while it drank. Eden, her face radiant, now leaning back against Lang, his arms enfolding her. “This is the loveliest thing I’ve seen in my life.” Eden’s violet eyes glowed. “Where did it come from?”

  “I’d be fascinated to know,” Lang murmured into her hair. “Brad hasn’t mentioned it. It’s a brumby. Dished head, Arab blood, but the prettiest little brumby I’ve ever seen.”

  “And pure white.” Eden was enormously surprised. “All it needs is a single straight horn with a spiral twist.”

  “And eyes as blue as yours.”

  “How I’d love to ride it!” The lift-off! For all she knew it might sprout wings.

  “How I’d love to see you on it. But it might just be a mirage.” He laughed a little at the thought. The white horse, having drunk its fill, was already making its way out of the canyon, picking its way delicately, without hurry. Finally it disappeared through the natural arch.

  “Is it me or did time stand still?” Eden asked with shining eyes.

  He could feel the life force in her body.

  “Have you ever thought passion is a kind of miracle?” He bent over her, exultant as she lifted her face for his kiss.

  “I know I’m going to remember this all my life,” Eden responded with fervour.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN Robbie heard the story of the mysterious white horse—for no one on Marella station had yet sighted it—he was captivated. This in turn led to a spiralling enthusiasm to have a pony of his own. “More than anything I want to learn to ride,” he told Eden with a shining look in his eyes. Christmas was less than a week away; the ideal time to receive a wonderful present. He was six, going on seven. Eden had told him all about her early adventures on horseback. A pony was the best thing in the world! Now nothing would suit but she should see to it right away. He made Eden promise she would speak to their father about it first thing in the morning.

  “He’ll listen to you,” said Robbie, remarkably shrewd for his age.

  These days Delma was rarely at home, caught up by a non-stop flurry of pre-Christmas functions, but when she was there, she began a campaign of conveying to Eden by way of smiling remarks Eden might want to start thinking of a place of her own. Preferably in the New Year. As if Eden hadn’t thought of just that many times herself. In this house, huge by any standards, Delma made Eden feel two adult women couldn’t possibly reside under the one roof. Certainly not Cassandra’s daughter. The remarks were always timed for when Owen and the highly perceptive Robbie weren’t around, which came as no surprise. As Eden had expected, Delma knew all about Lara’s visit to Marella and Lang’s “surprisingly cavalier treatment of her.”

  “Really it was like a slap in the face, Lara told me. It upset her dreadfully. I know Lang can be very unco-operative from time to time, but he and Lara are so close. You didn’t have a word with him, did you?” Delma’s expression conveyed the reason might well have been selfish, pea-brained behaviour on Eden’s part.

  Christmas week, but where was the goodwill?

  They were finishing brunch on that Saturday morning when Eden brought up the subject of a pony for Robbie. Robbie had been nudging her surreptitiously right through the leisurely meal but she had waited until the optimum moment.

  “I’d be happy to give him lessons,” she concluded, “if that helps.”

  Robbie beamed at her. Big sister, Eden, solving all his problems.

  Delma, however, had concerns. “That’s a kind offer, Eden, but Roberto is only six years old.”

  “Nearly seven.” Robbie gulped. He hated it when his mother flatly opposed his plans. “Eden could ride a horse before she could walk,” he said.

  Delma laughed. “Clever thing! But we couldn’t keep a horse here. It would be a waste of money.”

  “Now when did that ever bother you?” Owen, who had been enjoying the beautiful morning with his family, suddenly threw down his linen napkin. “Think you could hold off until your birthday, Robbie?” he addressed his son.

  Robbie didn’t hesitate. “Of course. You’re serious, Dad?” His dark eyes grew huge.

  “Probably I should have thought of it myself,” Owen considered. “It seems extraordinary but it had to be forcibly brought home to me I’m a dad.”

  “Well thanks for that!” Delma burst out. “Robbie is your only son. Your heir. Not Eden. You chose to ignore her for over twenty years.”

  Owen looked down the table at his wife. He knew he had been putting off this particular piece of information too long. Now it was time to get it out. “Actually, my dear, I’m glad we’re all together. We can get this thing straightened out. I’ve had Blake Howard draw up a new will.”

  Delma sat back shocked, staring at her husband, alarm in her eyes.

  “Naturally there are changes,” Owen said. “If you settle down, Delma, you might hear.”

  Instantly the atmosphere in the luxurious informal dining room degenerated like a bad weather report coming up.

  Here it comes, Eden thought with a sinking heart. She understood Delma’s banked-up fury. She’d told her father clearly it would be better if he left her out of his will entirely. Her mother had left her an annual income by way of a trust. Not a great amount of money but it would take care of all the extra. There were also the proceeds from the sale of the house in Brisbane. The important thing was she was a trained lawyer. Her job in the firm her great-grandfather had founded was there for her when she wanted it.

  Owen was speaking but Eden barely heard him. Robbie, who always liked to sit beside her, had even stopped feeding the family cat, Baba, under the table. He took hold of Eden’s hand, eyeing off his taut-faced mother uncertainly.

  “You can’t mean this, Owen,” Delma protested
bleakly.

  “I do mean it, Delma.” Owen clenched his determined jaw.

  “I won’t accept it.” Delma stabbed at her hair.

  “Tough. It’s done. Though why you’re looking so utterly deprived I’ll never know.”

  Delma glared at him. “Roberto is your heir. Boys are important. Eden will marry within a year or so. She’s trying hard enough to land Lang!” The words hung in the air like black clouds.

  Robbie raised his head to his sister, baffled. “What’s land Lang mean?” he whispered, thinking it might have something to do with fishing.

  Eden inched closer, lowering her voice. “I don’t always follow the way your mother talks, either, Robbie.”

  Robbie nodded, as though that made good sense.

  “You know very well what I mean.” Delma heaved herself to her feet, a glamorous figure, with her hair, make-up and dress, perfect even at ten o’clock on a lazy Saturday morning. “I have it on good authority that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  It couldn’t have been Lara. Shock. Horror.

  “Sit down, Delma,” Owen ordered wearily. “I hate to say this but you’re getting very tiresome. No doubt your girlfriend, Lara, is helping you out. No way is Eden trying to land Lang as you so sweetly put it. I’m wondering if they didn’t fall madly in love with each other on sight. None of which concerns you. If anything happens to me you’ll be left a rich woman. Robbie will have a tidy fortune to set him up. I have my charities to look after. Certain bequests. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to leave Robbie so rich he’ll start thinking he doesn’t have to do much with his life. I’m convinced too much money too early can ruin a young man.”

  Delma sat down again, breathing so heavily she might have been in a marathon. “But you’re going to leave it all to Eden?” she challenged.

  “Dad…” Eden tried to intervene, but he waved her down.