by Diana Palmer
She heard from the twins that John was frightfully busy, and her daydreams about having him repeat his invitation to the muster went up in smoke. Obviously he hadn’t time for anything else except the station right now. And she couldn’t even feel angry about it, now that she knew what a difficult time he’d had the past five years.
On Thursday the twins broke their record streak of good behavior by putting a frog into a little girl’s dress. The ensuing pandemonium got Priscilla a stern lecture from the principal, and she had to keep the twins after class as punishment. They didn’t seem to mind and, secretly, neither did she. She had a feeling that John would come for them.
“Poor Uncle John’s been staggering tired,” Gerry told her that afternoon after the other children had gone home.
“Dad offered to come home, but Uncle John said no,” Bobby added. “He said that Mom and Dad needed...needed...” He frowned.
“A honeymoon,” Gerry provided.
Priss laughed. “Well, I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves. And I’m sure your uncle can cope.”
“I say—” Ronald George stuck his head in the door “—your dad said to tell you that he and your mom are going to drive over to see the Thompsons and that they won’t be home until about dark.”
“Thanks, Ronald,” she replied, grinning at him.
He seemed to take that as an invitation. He came into the room, shut the door, and perched his tall form on the edge of Priss’s desk. His eyes went over the picture she made in her pale pink blouse and gray skirt.
“You look cool today,” he remarked. “Like one of our English roses.”
“Beware of my thorns,” she teased mischievously.
“I’m not afraid of roses.” He pursed his lips. He folded his arms. “As a matter of fact, I’m not afraid of anything today. I have scored a point.”
She frowned and cast a quick look at the twins. But they were in the back of the room peering into the class’s aquarium, where two turtles lived.
“Scored?” she questioned.
He leaned toward her, so that his face was almost touching hers. “Remember Mandy? Well, she’s finally agreed to go out with me!”
She laughed softly. “Lucky old you!” she exclaimed. “Ronald, that’s just super!”
“I can hardly wait,” he continued, searching her twinkling eyes. “It must be love,” he added more audibly.
To the man standing frozen and furious in the doorway, it was an eye-opening little tableau. Ronald leaning over Priss, with his mouth just inches from hers, and her bright face turned up and laughing at him, while he made her declarations of love. John clenched his hands by his side, weary from his day’s work, his drill pants and bush shirt covered with dust and bits of wool and dirt, his face stern with anger.
Priss saw him first, and her heart turned over. “Oh. Hello, John,” she faltered.
Ronald George straightened up, grinning. “Hi, Mr. Sterling. Nice day. You look a bit bushed.”
“Down here, bushed means lost, and I’m not that,” John returned with cold formality. “Gerry, Bobby, let’s go.”
He opened the door and ushered them out. And then he followed them! Without a word to Priss, without a single word, he was gone.
She couldn’t help the sick, empty feeling in her stomach. She stared at the closed door with a sense of disaster. Surely he hadn’t been jealous? She laughed bitterly to herself even as she thought it. John, jealous of her—that was a good one.
“I say, are you all right?” Ronald asked.
She forced a smile. “Of course. It’s just been a long day. Well, I’d better pack up and go home. Thanks for the message. And good luck on your date!”
He stood up, smiling. “I’ll need it. Mentally she can cut me to pieces. But she’s a lovely lady, and I’m hopelessly smitten. Perhaps I can convince her I’m a good risk.”
“I’m sure you will.” Priss smiled at him. “See you tomorrow.”
“Have a nice evening,” he called as she went out the door with her belongings.
After she got home and changed, she walked down by the creek and sat there for a long time, puzzled over John’s utter rudeness. Was he angry at her, or the boys, or had it just been weariness? Oh, how she wished she knew!
After a while, she took off her shoes and waded across the cool creek to the other side. She wandered up the small rise through the eucalyptus trees and saw the Sterling Run Land Rover coming across the grassy paddock at a clip. Her heart leapt wildly when she recognized the driver.
Across the horizon were storm clouds, and even as John pulled up at the edge of the wooded area, rain started pelting down.
“Well, get in before you get wet,” he growled, throwing open the passenger door.
She dived in, shoes in hand, and closed the door, scrutinizing him warily. He looked savage. His blue eyes glimmered under his heavy dark brows, and his lips made a thin line as he glared at her. He hadn’t changed his clothing since she’d seen him at school, and he smelled of sheep and dust and the outdoors.
“Am I distasteful?” he asked curtly. “I’d forgotten how long it’s been since you’ve seen me straight from the shearing sheds.”
He wouldn’t be distasteful to her if he were covered in tar and feathers, but she didn’t say that. “You’ve been working hard, the boys said,” she observed.
“Have to,” he returned on a sigh as the rain came heavier, making the cab a private, cozy haven. “We’re still a long way from financial security at the station.”
“You’ll make it eventually,” she said confidently.
He took off his hat and tossed it into the back of the vehicle, which was littered with tools and rags and dusty equipment. His hair was sweaty and he looked as ragged as he probably felt.
“What’s going on between you and that pommy?” he inquired bluntly, pinning her with his eyes.
Her lips parted with an indrawn breath at the unexpected attack. She lifted a hand to her hair and mussed it. “Nothing,” she said.
“Don’t hand me that,” he growled. He threw a strong arm over the back of the seat, and she could see the muscles rippling under the darkly tanned skin. “He was making emphatic statements about being in love.”
“Yes, but not with me,” she burst out.
“There was no one else in the room, except the twins,” he reminded her, glaring at her mouth.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at his face with helpless longing. Her hands clenched in her lap, and she closed her eyes because she wanted so badly to kiss him. Outside the rain pelted the hood with a loud metallic sound.
“Oh, never mind,” he said irritably. “Come here.”
He held out one arm, and without really questioning her own docility, she went close to him, burrowing against his broad chest with a small contented sigh.
“I’ll probably get you filthy, but I’m beyond caring,” he murmured huskily as his arms contracted. “I’m starved for you, Priscilla.” He nuzzled his face against hers and searched for her mouth. “Too starved.”
She gave her mouth up to him, completely, letting him pierce the line of her lips with his tongue and penetrate to the soft darkness beyond. She didn’t even protest when he turned her so she lay across his lap, or when he jerked open his shirt.
“Let me feel you,” he whispered hungrily as his hand went to the buttons of her pink blouse. “All of you, against me, here...”
He had her mouth under his again, and her hands clung to his bare arms as he got the fabric out of the way and suddenly crushed her softness into the hard warm muscle and thick hair over his chest.
“Oh, God,” he groaned huskily, folding her even closer. “Oh, God, how sweet, how sweet...!” He began to move her body so her breasts dragged against his skin, intensifying the need they were both feelin
g to such a degree that she cried out.
He lifted his shaggy head and looked into her eyes. His own were gleaming and wild. “Did I hurt you?” he asked shakily.
“No,” she moaned. “Do it...do it again,” she whispered.
He obliged, but this time he watched her face, watched the pleasure she was feeling as it was betrayed by her parted lips, her wide misty eyes.
His gaze dropped down to where their bodies met, and he watched the hard nipples disappear into the thick hair over his muscular chest.
“You are so beautiful,” he breathed reverently. “Watching you...this way...drives me wild.” He brought one hand from behind her and brushed his fingers lightly against the side of her breast. “Silk,” he whispered as his fingers found the exquisite contours and then eased between their bodies to mold the peak.
His eyes shot back up to hers, and she lay helpless against him, trapped by the sensuality of his hands, his gaze. She was completely at his mercy, and he had to know it.
“I’ll teach you to trust me somehow,” he whispered, bending to her mouth. “Open your mouth, little virgin. All this...is only love-play. How could I take you in this damned dirty vehicle...?”
That relaxed her a little. She didn’t fight the possession of his mouth as he took her own again, a little more fervently this time.
“Honey, touch me,” he coaxed. “Stroke me.”
Her hands obeyed him. She liked the feel of his muscles, especially the ones just above his belt buckle. She touched him there, and he groaned, and the muscles clenched like coiled wire.
“Oh!” She stilled her fingers and looked up at him.
His lips were parted, swollen like her own, and he was having trouble breathing. His blond-streaked hair had fallen onto his brow, and he looked like a lover. Really like a lover.
“Do you feel adventurous?” he asked unsteadily. “Because if you do, I’ll teach you some shocking things about a man’s body.”
Part of her was caught in the trap and wanted desperately to be taught. The saner part knew where all this was leading, and it was to a dead end. He only wanted her.
She leaned her forehead against him and pressed her hand flat over his heart. “No,” she said in a defeated tone. “No, I can’t; I can’t go through it again,” she murmured weakly. “I can’t live through it twice. John, please, don’t do this to me!”
His hands went to her back, and he held her close, feeling her breasts like satin against him, loving the bareness of her back, the scent of her.
He kissed her closed eyes, her forehead, in a breathlessly tender way and then eased her away from him.
His eyes went helplessly to her nakedness. She was bigger now, fuller, firmer, and the sight of her was glorious. It made his heart soar.
He reached out and ran a gentle finger over the swollen-tipped contours. “You were made for children,” he breathed, thinking of how she’d look holding his.
Her whole body shook at the words, at the mental picture of a little blond baby suckling heartily at the place he was touching, and she stopped breathing as she met his level gaze.
It was like a moment out of time, when they were thinking the same thought, wanting the same thing. He bent his head and kissed her. And it was like no kiss they’d ever shared before. Tender, questioning. Full of wonder and shy exploration and aching softness.
He drew away and cupped her face in his hands to search her wide misty eyes. “Come and have supper at the Run tomorrow night,” he invited quietly. “I’ll cook.”
Her mouth gaped. “Supper?”
“Yes. Only that.” He reached down and pulled her clothing up, dressing her like a doll. “No more lovemaking for a while. I want to get to know you. What you feel. What you think. What you want from life.”
Her body tingled. “Those are deep thoughts.”
“Yes, aren’t they.” He fastened the top button of her blouse. “And in the meantime, it would help if you’d stop letting me undress you.”
“I tried,” she said with a faint smile.
He sighed. “Yes. I tried, too, but the feel of you does unexpected things to my brain. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“It was so beautiful,” she said without meaning to.
“Oh, God, yes,” he ground out. He caught one of her hands and carried the palm reverently to his lips. “You’ve never done that sort of thing with anyone except me, have you?”
She shook her head. “I never wanted anyone else’s hands...” She bit her lip and lowered her eyes.
He tilted her face up to his. “Neither did I,” he said.
She searched that weathered face pensively, curiously.
His finger brushed the line of her lips. “I haven’t slept with a woman in five years.”
It was like a jolt of electricity going through her body. Her eyes dilated, and she gaped at him. “Five years?”
He nodded. “So you see, there’s been no one else for me, either, Priscilla.”
Tears bled from her eyes. She couldn’t help them. “But you’re a man,” she whispered.
“I didn’t feel like much of a man after the way I cut you up,” he confessed, handing her a clean handkerchief. “I had a mental block about sex. I even tried once.” He laughed mirthlessly. “She wasn’t an understanding woman, and that made it worse. She laughed.”
She went into his arms and held him, burying her face in his neck. “Who was she?” she ground out. “I’ll kill her!”
His arms contracted. “Jealous?”
“Furious. How could she do that to you?”
He drew in a slow breath. “You’re still very innocent in some ways,” he reminded her.
“I’d never do that,” she said fervently.
“I know. If I were totally impotent, I imagine you’d find some way to make me feel like a man again, wouldn’t you?”
She lifted her face and looked into his eyes. He understood the question there.
“No,” he responded softly. “I’m not impotent. Not with you.”
She smiled shyly and lowered her eyes to his chest.
“If you’d like me to prove it,” he offered, “I’d be only too glad to oblige.”
This was the old teasing John Sterling she remembered from her teens, the man she’d worshipped and grown to love. Not the distant stranger of past weeks and years. It must have been a barren life for him, if he’d had no one since Janie Weeks. Janie. Her eyes clouded. She wanted desperately to ask him about the divorcée, to ask if it had hurt when she deserted him. Did he still feel anything for Janie? But she was too unsure of him to ask such a personal question. Instead she forced her eyes up to his and smiled softly.
“What would you do if I said yes, go ahead?” she asked.
He chuckled softly. “I’d find some excuse to go home. I don’t want to take your virginity in the front seat of a Land Rover, if it’s all the same to you. I’m too old for impatient groping.”
Her eyes measured the size of the seat and the size of his body and she laughed softly. “No, I guess it would be impossible.”
“Sweet innocent,” he sighed, touching his mouth to hers, “we could do it sitting up, didn’t you know?”
She flushed from her hairline down to her breasts, and he looked at her and laughed so delightedly, she couldn’t even get angry.
“I’ll drive you home, darling,” he said gently. “I don’t want you catching cold.”
He moved her beside him but held her arm when she tried to go back to her own side of the vehicle.
“No,” he protested. “Stay close.”
She didn’t argue. She pressed herself against his side and closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his stained shirt with a soulful sigh.
His arm contracted as he started the vehicle
and put it in gear with his free hand. “I’ve ruined your blouse,” he remarked as he pulled back onto the track.
“I don’t mind,” she answered.
“When we do this again, I’ll make sure I’ve cleaned up first. I went off half-cocked about your pommy friend and didn’t even consider how I looked,” he laughed.
“You were looking for me?” she asked.
He chuckled softly. “I thought I’d probably find you at the creek. You spend quite a lot of time brooding there, don’t you?”
“I like to watch the birds.”
He kissed her forehead lightly. “Yes, I know.”
It took only a few short minutes to get to her parents’ home, and she drew away from him with all-too-obvious reluctance.
“I meant what I said,” he repeated. “No more lovemaking for a while. We’re going to learn about each other in less physical ways.”
That was promising and rather exciting. She smiled at him with a little of her old spirit. “Afraid I might seduce you, John?” she teased gently.
He caught her hand and held it to his lips. “Yes,” he admitted, and he didn’t smile. “And deathly afraid I might seduce you. So we’ll cool it for a while. All right?”
“All right.” She glanced at him one last time and got out of the Land-Rover. He studied her warmly for a long minute.
“What was the pommy telling you?” he asked finally.
She grinned at him. “That he had a date with the girl he’s dying of love for, and how happy he was.”
He grimaced. “Well, as long as he’s not after you, I suppose he’s safe enough. I’ll pick you up about six tomorrow.”
“I could drive over—” she began.
“I’ll pick you up about six,” he returned firmly. “I don’t want you on the roads alone at night.”
He backed out of the driveway before she could make any remarks about being liberated and able to take care of herself. And as she went inside she couldn’t help thinking how nice it felt to be cared for, protected. But what was he after now? He’d said he didn’t want to seduce her. Did that mean that he was beginning to feel something for her after all? Her heart raced wildly. Her eyes closed. And if he was, did she dare take the risk a second time? That nagging thought weighed on her mind all night.