by Lyn Denison
“Kate.” Ashley Maclean’s sunny voice said the name experimentally and Kate’s young heart seemed to flip over in her chest. “Kate,” Ashley repeated. “I really like that.” Her blue eyes skimmed Kate’s pale face, her nondescript light brown hair, her unremarkable gray eyes. “It suits you.”
“It does?” Kate murmured before she could prevent herself, feeling herself blush crimson.
“Yes. It does.” Ashley laughed and sat down, cross-legged, on the platform.
“Oh. Do you think so?” Kate asked uncertainly. “I’ve always thought Kate was sort of old-fashioned.” She surprised herself by confiding.
“Why? Were you named after your mother or what?”
Kate shook her head and sat down on the box again. “No. I guess my parents must have just liked the name.”
“At least it’s not a sissy name like mine.” Ashley wrinkled her small nose as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, chin resting in her hands.
The tree house was suddenly far too small, and Kate moved her box seat backward a fraction.
“Mum was reading Gone with the Wind when I was born,” Ashley continued easily, “so I was going to be Ashley if I was a boy or a girl.”
“I think its a nice name,” Kate said politely.
“Thanks.” Ashley grimaced and changed position, resting back on her hands, bare feet out in front of her.
To Kate’s consternation that brought the other girl closer to her, her legs almost touching Kate’s. Kate moved surreptitiously to balance on the edge of the crate to put some space between them.
“No, don’t move. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” Ashley grinned. “Although if were going to share this spot we’ll have to find another box, and we’d better renovate, add a board or two.”
Kate glanced at the wooden boards as if she’d never seen them before, and Ashley laughed at her expression.
“My father’s a builder, and I’ve been helping him and the boys for years. I’m almost an expert,” she added jauntily. “So, what are you reading?” She reached across and took the book Kate still held in her hand. She turned the book over and glanced at the title before handing it back to Kate. “Not bad, is it?
“You’ve read it?”
Ashley nodded. “At the beginning of the holidays. I borrowed it from the library. Mum says if I’m not careful they’ll have to operate to remove a book from my hand. I read a lot.’’
“I do too.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“I’m reading one of Mum’s at the moment, and its full of sex.”
Kate stiffened and felt herself flush again. “Does your mother let you read her books?’’
“Are you kidding? She’d have ten kittens if she knew. Belinda’s read it, so I don’t see why I can’t.”
“Who’s Belinda?”
Ashley grimaced. “My older sister. She’s nearly seventeen and really up herself.” She wrinkled her nose again. “She’s a pain in the neck. Always bossing me round. It’s a relief to come in here. If it’s not Mum or Belinda on my back, it’s those rotten boys.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Two. Baden’s Belinda’s twin, and then there’s Timothy. He’s nearly fourteen. They’re all adolescents.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “That’s why you’re lucky being an only child. It must be so peaceful,” she finished with feeling.
Kate couldn’t actually say. But she just couldn’t imagine having brothers and sisters.
“So how long are you staying with Miss Ballantyne?”
A wave of the now familiar panic clutched at Kate and she swallowed. “I don’t know. For, well, for a few years anyway.” Until she was old enough to live on her own, she could have added, but didn’t.
“A few years?” Ashley’s dark brows rose in surprise. “I thought you might have just been here for the school holidays. Where are your parents then?”
Kate blinked, and Ashley raised her fine eyebrows again. “They’re dead,” Kate said at last, and the words seemed to hover over her, reverberate inside her, and it was all suddenly so painfully final. She swallowed but couldn’t hold back the tears that filled her eyes and began to tumble down her cheeks. It had been eight long weeks since the funeral, and Kate hadn’t cried. Until now.
“Gee, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ashley was saying, and then her warm arms were around Kate, burying Kate’s face in the curve of Ashley’s neck. Ashley smelled of sunshine and sweetness. Ashley’s hand gently rubbed Kate’s back, and Kate wept some more.
To this day she couldn’t explain the reason for her raw sorrow. It wasn’t as though she had been very close to her parents. Not like she later discovered Ashley was to her mother and father.
More often than not, Kate’s parents were away and she was at boarding school. She barely saw them for a few weeks a year. And since she’d arrived to live with her aunt, her aunt hadn’t even mentioned Kate’s parents. Ten-year-old Ashley Maclean had been the first person to offer her the physical comfort of her young arms.
And at the time Kate knew she’d never forget the first time Ashley put her arms around her, the sensation of that closeness to Ashley, those few moments of suspended time when she was filled with the other girl’s compassion, with the feel of her body, the heady scent of her skin.
Kate had drawn back and then the whole story had come tumbling out, about her parents’ accident when they were combining a short holiday with her father’s lecture tour. The bus in which they had been traveling in Mexico had slid over an embankment, and Richard and Margaret Ballantyne had been two of the twenty-five people killed. Kate had been at boarding school, and the headmistress had summoned her to tell her the news.
Sitting alone in her office eighteen years later, Kate rubbed at her aching eyes with her hand. With hindsight she knew she couldn’t blame her teachers or the maiden aunt who had had a ten-year-old niece thrust upon her, for Kate knew she had been a solitary, self-possessed child. At least she’d appeared that way. Sent away to school as soon as she was old enough, it was a shell Kate had grown as some protection. But she’d never been like that with Ashley.
That moment on the platform of the tree house they later renovated together had been the beginning of their friendship, a friendship that had ended so agonizingly eight years later.
And Kate hadn’t seen or heard from Ashley since that dreadful time. Not that she had expected to, not after the first long weeks of numbed disbelief. Many times Kate had started a letter only to tear it up before she could find the nerve to post it.
Now Ashley Maclean was coming home to the Towers. No, not Ashley Maclean. Ashley Andrews. And she was coming home with her husband.
CHAPTER TWO
Just at dusk Kate drew her car to a halt in the driveway of Rosemary’s house and switched off the engine. Because she’d sat brooding over the Maclean family reunion, Kate was late leaving work so she’d had to race home to take a quick shower and change into comfortable jeans and a T-shirt.
She sighed, wishing now that she’d phoned Rosemary and cried off their Thursday night dinner. She felt tired and disoriented and wanted to be alone to think about the newspaper article and its ramifications.
Yet part of her acknowledged that spending the evening in her empty house wasn’t such a good idea just at the moment. Being alone would only invite other memories she’d rather not dwell on tonight.
The porch light shone welcomingly in the fading light, and the door opened. Rosemary peered out, and Kate made herself climb from her Ford Laser.
“Thought I heard your car,” Rosemary said lightly as Kate walked up the short flight of steps.
Kate managed a smile. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”
“No worries.” Rosemary closed the door behind Kate and reached out, pulling Kate into her arms. “This is always worth waiting for.” She kissed Kate eagerly and ran her hands down Kate’s back, cupping her buttocks, moving Kate closer until they were breast to breast, stomach to
stomach, thigh to thigh.
Kate made herself relax into the other woman’s body, responding despite herself to Rosemary’s lingering kiss.
Rosemary murmured as she drew her mouth from Kate’s. “You feel wonderful, but I guess we’d better save this for dessert, otherwise our dinner will be ruined.”
“Can’t have that,” Kate agreed easily.
“Not after I’ve slaved over a hot stove for, oh, ages and ages.” Rosemary reluctantly released Kate and led the way along the short hallway. “Feel like some wine?” she asked over her shoulder.
Kate nodded. “That’d be great.” She followed Rosemary into the small, graciously decorated dining-cum-living room, her eyes moving over the other woman’s slim contours.
Rosemary Greig was a slender redhead, and she moved with an efficiency that seemed to carry over into every facet of her life. She was an attractive woman on the right side of forty, and she’d moved to Charters Towers a couple of years ago to take up the position of personal secretary to the city’s lord mayor.
“So. What’s for dinner?” Kate forced herself to make an effort. She knew her blue mood had nothing to do with Rosemary “It smells delicious.”
Rosemary passed Kate a glass of wine. “Thai this week.”
“You’ll have to let me cook for you,” Kate began, feeling guilty that Rosemary always made their meal.
“When my cookery course is finished. I told you I appreciate having someone to try out my newfound skills on.” She set out warmed plates and began serving. “It’s so much better when you have someone to cook for besides yourself.”
Kate sipped her wine, savoring the cool liquid on her tongue. “You’re enjoying this cookery course, aren’t you?”
Rosemary nodded. “Very much.” She walked around the breakfast bar with their meal. “Please to sit down, madame,” she said with a flourish.
They sat companionably eating by candlelight, and Kate felt some of her tension leave her. Sitting at home brooding, she knew, would only have made her feel worse. And if Rosemary noticed Kate was a little quieter tonight than she usually was, she made no comment.
Now, pleasantly relaxed, she was even glad she’d come. Rosemary was an entertaining companion, and she regaled Kate with pithy stories of the other students in her cookery class. By now Kate felt she knew them all, and she found herself laughing easily at Rosemary’s anecdotes.
After the meal Kate helped with the dishes, and then they moved back into the lounge, sitting side-by-side on the sofa.
“Want to watch TV?” Rosemary asked and then raised her eyebrows and twirled an imaginary mustache. Or are you ready for dessert?”
“Oh, such subtlety.” Kate laughed. “What a technique. Let’s relax a little first.” She rubbed her tummy. “The meal was delicious, and I think I’ve overindulged.”
“You have no staying power,” Rosemary teased as she curled up against Kate and linked her hand with Kate’s. “You look tired and seem a bit preoccupied. Had a hard day at work?”
Kate sighed. “Just the usual. Oh, and we had a verification fax from the agent of that new author, Leigh Mossman. It’s all set that Leigh Mossman will be here in a couple of weeks, so I must try to read her book before she arrives. I don’t usually read historic novels, but Ryan says this one’s fantastic.”
“Gold Fever? It’s not bad.”
“You’ve read it?” Kate asked in surprise.
“Mmm.” Rosemary nodded. “Just finished it. I bought it after you told me she was coming to the library. I know having it set in the Towers makes it all the more interesting, but apart from that it’s a really good read. Do you know yet who this Leigh Mossman is? I mean, I presume she’s an ex-local.”
“No one seems to have heard of her.”
Rosemary grinned. “Ah, a mystery woman. But it is pretty well written for a first book. I can see why it’s doing so well.”
“Everyone who’s borrowed it from the library has enjoyed it, so we should have a good turnout on the afternoon. I hope we do anyway, if only to silence Phillip.” Kate pulled a face. “He suggested it might be a waste of money when I mentioned catering for the afternoon, just tea, coffee, and finger food.”
Rosemary groaned. “What? Quibbling over a few sandwiches and some fancy cakes? Isn’t he the end?”
Kate grinned. “We’re going to make the sandwiches ourselves, and Ryan’s mother’s making some of her famous cakes and cookies. It’s a labor of love by the sounds of it. The whole Marshall family loved the book.”
“My sister said she saw Leigh Mossman on the Midday Show in Sydney a month or so ago. She said she was really nice. Of course, the fact that she’s quite young, blond, and beautiful won’t do anything to hinder her career.”
“Oh dear. So cynical.” Kate laughed, and Rosemary smiled too.
“You sound better than you did when you arrived,” she said lightly. Kate shrugged.
“Guess I’ve simply had an off day.”
“Phillip hasn’t been trying to further his case by asking you out again, has he?”
“No. Thank heavens.” Kate grinned. “But if he does, at least this time I’ll be prepared. I certainly didn’t even suspect he was interested in a social life so soon, let alone that he wanted me to share it with him. I mean, I don’t even think his divorce is final yet.”
“Pity he’s so—” Rosemary paused, searching for a relevant adjective.
“Insipid?” Kate finished, and Rosemary nodded.
“That’ll do.” She glanced at Kate. “Didn’t you say you’ve known him since schooldays? Was he always such a bore?”
“Pretty much so.”
“So, has he been carrying a torch for you all these years.”
Kate stiffened slightly. The conversation was getting a little too close to a truth Kate didn’t want to explore just at the moment. It was all too raw even now, after ten long years. “Carrying a torch? I wouldn’t say that,” Kate said carefully.
“Well, I can understand it if he was,” Rosemary said huskily and took Kate’s chin in her fingers. “You’re very attractive. You have poise. You’re intelligent—”
“I have my own teeth,” Kate put in dryly, and Rosemary laughed delightedly.
“Absolutely essential in a town clerk’s wife.”
“Oh, please.” Kate groaned. “Don’t even think along those lines.”
“Well, you can’t blame the guy. He’s dull but not a fool. He knows every good man needs a good woman, and by all accounts his last one left a little to be desired. But you’d be ideal. You’re well-known in the town. You don’t have any ex-husbands or children in tow. And, as you so charmingly said, you have your own teeth. Perfect.”
Kate laughed. “Except for one small point. I’m not interested.”
“Well, two small points,” Rosemary reminded. “One, you’re not interested. Two, you prefer women. For which I’m most grateful.”
Kate smiled and then sobered. “It all gets so complicated, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does. Especially in a place like this where everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
“It’s the double standard that has always irritated me. Have you noticed they just about expect a bit of heterosexual bed hopping and a dabble into adultery, but when it comes to homosexuality they purse their collective lips and turn all conservative and pious?”
“Absolutely.” Rosemary grimaced. And pity help a gay guy in this man’s town. Ah, the patriarchy is alive and well in these parts and won’t be taking kindly to a hint of lesbianism in any of its women either.”
“You mean there are lesbians in town?” Kate asked with mock horror. Rosemary chuckled.
“So I’ve heard. Never seen any, mind. At least not doing it in the street and frightening the horses.”
Kate joined in Rosemary’s laughter and then sighed. “It’s not easy, is it?”
“No, it’s not. Which is why I find the suggestion that it’s a choice to be gay so incredible. Who in their right mind w
ould want to live their life in the proverbial closet if they had a choice?” Rosemary shook her head. “Anyway, let’s get off that depressing subject. I can think of better ways to spend my time with you.”
She slid her lips along Kate’s jawline, and her teeth teased Kate’s earlobe, her mouth settling in the curve of Kate’s neck. “Mmm. You smell delicious.”
“Sure that’s not the leftover aroma of your delicious dinner?” Kate asked ironically.
Rosemary groaned. “Such a romantic!” She skidded soft kisses on Kate’s tender skin.
A romantic, Kate’s mind repeated. She had been in the beginning, when her love for Ashley had all but consumed her every waking minute. Kate forced her attention back to the here and now, and when Rosemary’s lips nibbled on Kate’s earlobe Kate turned her head, her own lips finding Rosemary’s in a kiss that desperately sought to claim the present and blot out the past.
‘’Well,” Rosemary laughed softly. “That response bodes well for what I have in mind.” Her fingers slipped beneath Kate’s T-shirt, her hands closing over the firmness of Kate’s small breasts. Kate’s breath expelled on a half moan as Rosemary grazed her thumbs over Kate’s hardening nipples.
“Oh, yes,” Rosemary murmured appreciatively, but when Kate went to unbutton Rosemary’s blouse Rosemary stopped her. “No. Not yet,” she said. “I want to concentrate on you first,” she added huskily and lifted Kate’s shirt up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor.
She unclasped Kate’s bra and leaned forward, taking one hard nipple into her mouth, tormenting with the tip of her tongue, gently teasing with her teeth.
Kate arched in response, her hands clutching at the soft cushions of the lounge chair.
Rosemary tenderly pushed Kate sideways, laying her on the couch. She unzipped Kate’s jeans, peeled them off, and slowly slid her fingers under the edge of Kate’s underpants. Her fingers touched lightly, pulled back, touched again, and Kate’s hips rose as her nerve endings tensed in anticipation. Rosemary slowly slid Kate’s underpants downward, and Kate murmured appreciatively as the other woman’s hands slid back up the length of Kate’s leg.