by Diana Fraser
She looked briefly over at Martin, not particularly wanting to join him but feeling a certain duty. After all he was here with her. But she could see he was enjoying himself, talking with a group of farm hands out on the veranda. She briefly wondered what on earth they could be talking about that he was finding so enjoyable. And then wondered what James had been about to say. She dismissed both ideas. For some reason she wasn’t in the mood to contemplate her wish list, or her future. Instead she wandered back to the window and looked out. She glanced around her and stepped outside. The gardens were empty now that the short daylight of winter was waning.
She pulled her cardigan around her and shivered but continued along the old veranda around to where she could see the outline of the mountains, the red of the sunset still caught in their snow-capped tops. It was stunning but something was missing. She wished Morgan was here. But he wasn’t and there wasn’t any point in standing outside, shivering in the cold, she told herself sternly.
She turned quickly to enter the front door and slapped straight into Morgan—his shirt ripped and grimy. She made a strangled sound of surprise and would have been knocked off balance if it hadn’t been for Morgan, instinctively reaching for her and gripping her arms. She could feel herself respond, like it or not. She almost melted against him and for one brief moment their heads came together, their mouths so close it wouldn’t have taken much for them to touch, for them to kiss, for them to explore each other, just as they’d done only a few short weeks ago.
If Rebecca had been hoping she’d forget how he’d made her feel, she was sorely disappointed. There was nothing she’d forgotten. It all came flooding back.
“Morgan,” she breathed, aware her voice had lowered huskily. She cleared her throat, annoyed. “Are you okay?”
“What?” For a brief moment he looked confused.
She had to get a grip on herself. She stepped looked down at his hand, wrapped in a piece of his shirt, stained with blood. “What have you done to your hand?”
His hands dropped to his sides and he pulled back. “It’s nothing. Had a bit of trouble getting some sheep out of a gully.”
Just at that moment Callum came around the corner. He lifted his brows with his characteristic understatement.
“I found them.”
Callum glanced down at Morgan’s hand. “And it looks like they found your hand.”
“Yeah. One of the stragglers was a bit hard to handle and slammed my hand against a rock. It’s fine. Nothing broken.” Morgan turned away and narrowed his eyes as if focusing on the distant hills.
For the first time, Rebecca was struck not just by Callum and Morgan’s physical similarity but by their personalities. Both preferred brevity in conversation and both were down-to-earth people who totally understood each other.
“Better get it cleaned up,” said Callum.
“I’ll do it,” said Rebecca, picking up Morgan’s hand and gingerly unwrapping the makeshift bandage.
“There’s a First Aid kit in the downstairs bathroom,” said Callum. “I’ll go and let Gemma know. She may have something else you can use.”
Callum went back inside and Rebecca pulled Morgan toward the door but he resisted.
He shrugged. “I can’t go inside looking like this.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Lady Mackenzie won’t like it.”
“She’ll have to lump it.”
She turned back and took him by the wrist and pulled him inside. Immediately conversation stalled and all eyes turned to them. Rebecca was grateful when Martin made a beeline for them. “We’ve not met,” he said extending his hand to Morgan who looked at it and then turned away.
The awkward moment was interrupted by Gemma who burst through the people who’d gathered to stare. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a scratch.”
“It’s not a scratch. Look at his hand, Gemma.” Rebecca grabbed the bloodied bandaged hand and held it up for all to see. There was a collective gasp from around the room.
“Come on, I’ll take you the bathroom. We can clean it up there.”
Morgan followed Gemma, and Rebecca brought up the rear, watching the reaction of the other invited guests with interest. Particularly Lady Mackenzie whose look of severe distaste would have been sufficient to make Rebecca hate her. But then she spoke.
“What is he doing here? I thought Callum had arranged a barbecue for the hired hands.”
“Looks like the barbecue got out of hand,” snickered one of the guests. “Some kind of fight probably.”
“Really. Grown men should know better than to fight. That’s no way to behave in civilized company.”
That was too much for Rebecca and she went up to Lady Mackenzie. “Morgan wasn’t fighting. He was risking his life bringing in some sheep stuck in a gully, while you’ve all”—she shot a deadly look at the people Lady Mackenzie had gathered around her—“been here drinking champagne.” Rebecca suddenly wanted to say a whole lot more. Lady Mackenzie had given Gemma a really hard time over the past year and Gemma had bitten her tongue time and time again. But, she didn’t want to make things more difficult for Gemma than they already were, so she turned away to follow an astounded looking Morgan and Gemma who’d paused by the door.
“She’s a friend of Gemma’s,” Lady Mackenzie said by way of explanation to the group of establishment figures she surrounded herself with. “A little odd.” Outraged, Rebecca stopped and slowly turned, her anger filling her.
“Rebecca,” said Morgan softly, reaching out with his damaged hand to her.
She looked up immediately and took his hand and the anger passed. She exhaled roughly, all other thoughts dismissed under the power of her connection with this man.
At that moment, James walked by, flashed a brief grin at Rebecca and walked up to Lady Mackenzie and took her by the arm. “Mother, I have someone I’d like to introduce you to. Lord Caernarvon from Wales is here looking at our merinos.”
“Wales, you say.” Lady Mackenzie’s mood changed in an instant as her handsome youngest, and favorite son worked his charm on her. “Such a strange little country.”
“Maybe,” he whispered, “but I’m sure you’ll like him. He’s related to the royal family.”
“Really?” Lady Mackenzie was clearly impressed.
Gemma grinned at Rebecca who shook her head and all three of them walked down the hallway.
“Go, Rebecca! That was quite a scene!” Gemma grinned.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. But… the way she’s treated you these past months, Gemma, and then that comment about”—she glanced up at Morgan who hadn’t taken his eyes from her—“you,” she said more softly.
“Oh, I don’t mind. I was cheering you on. She’s a total witch. Luckily she’s not often here. She’s usually in Christchurch or annoying Cassandra in Wellington.”
Once in the palatial bathroom, Gemma opened the First Aid kit while Rebecca inspected his hand. “At least the bleeding seems to have stopped now.”
“Here”—Rebecca glanced warmly to Morgan—“I’ll wash your hand.”
Gemma rummaged through the kit and selected some ointment. “This should do it.” She walked over to Morgan and Gemma, who was trying to wash Morgan’s hand under a stream of cold water.
“I can wash my own hands!”
Gemma grinned. “Yeah, but why would you want to, when Rebecca seems to want to do it for you?”
“Good point,” Morgan murmured.
Rebecca ignored them both and gently twisted his hand under the running water, angling it to flush away the dirt. “It’s not too deep.” She took some mild soap from Gemma and cleaned it thoroughly. After she was sure the wound was clean, she wrapped his hand in a towel and patted it dry.
“I can do that,” he said pulling the towel toward him.
She tugged it back and continued to dry the wound before carefully wrapping it in gauze.
Gemma looked from one to the other of them.
“I’ll leave you guys to it. If you want anything you know where I’ll be. With my baby, avoiding my scary mother-in-law.”
It was just as well she wasn’t expecting a reply because Morgan and Rebecca only had eyes for each other.
Rebecca waited until the bathroom door clicked shut.
“Morgan, I’m so sorry.”
He flexed his hands. “It wasn’t your fault I hurt my hand.”
“No!” She suddenly felt embarrassed and looked down as she unwrapped a bandage. “About the other night,” she mumbled.
She wrapped the bandage inexpertly around his hand and tied a rough knot, waiting for him to speak. But, instead, his injured fingers curled and moved against hers in a sweeping caress. She looked up abruptly.
“It’s okay. You regret it. Stuff like that happens sometimes.”
“No! Not to me it doesn’t. I’ve never slept with someone—”
She stopped abruptly.
“Someone like me,” he added quietly. “I know I’m not in your league, Rebecca.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a league,” she emphasized the word, remembering the snobbishness of Lady Mackenzie. “I was going to say, I’ve never slept with someone who’s made me feel so much, who made me forget myself. Oh my God, Morgan, you bloody well scared the life out of me.”
“Scared you? Why? I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I know that. And it’s not that.”
“Then tell me what it is. Tell me and I’ll deal with it.”
She smiled, admiring Morgan’s confidence that he could demolish any obstacle in his path by sheer strength alone. “You can’t. I’m frightened of the woman I am when I’m with you. It’s that simple.”
“You’re frightened of losing control.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. Morgan had an uncanny way of getting straight to the heart of things.
“Well, yes.”
“You can trust me, you know. If you lose control. I’m not going to take more than you want to give. I’m not going to broadcast what we do together. I’m not going to hurt you by throwing that lack of control in your face.”
Rebecca opened her mouth to speak. But the tables had turned. It was Morgan who was talking and it was she who was speechless.
His bandaged hand swept up around her waist and he pulled her against him. He kissed the top of her head. “Christ, Rebecca. I thought you hated me. I thought you were ashamed you’d made love with someone like me.”
She pressed her cheek against his chest. “I don’t know why you keep saying things like that. You’re you. You’re not a class of people. You’re simply you. And that’s more than enough for anybody.”
He exhaled roughly against her head. “You’re unique. You’re one of a kind.”
She smiled and looked up at him. But he wasn’t smiling. “I’ve heard that one before. But I’m not sure it’s ever been meant in a nice way.”
“I mean it in a nice way.” And she could see by the serious expression and sudden tenderness in his eyes, that he did. And then he dipped his head and kissed her gently. Immediately the surge of need swept through her and she knew, just knew, that any more and he could have had her there and then on the bathroom floor, where anybody could have walked in, and she wouldn’t have cared less.
She pulled, away, breathless, backing away. “No! I can’t do this, Morgan. I told you. I’m scared.”
“And I told you, you can trust me.”
“It’s not about trusting you! Don’t you understand? It’s about trusting me.”
“No, I don’t understand. Help me to.”
She walked away, turned to the mirror and swept her fingers under her eyes, determined to blot out the emerging tears that had smudged her mascara. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright and her breathing was ragged. She shook her head and looked up at his reflection in the mirror.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s humiliating. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“So, let me get this right. You don’t object to me. What stops you from getting close to me is how you feel about your own passion.”
She nodded, pursing her lips, scared of what she might say.
He shrugged. “I…” He hesitated as if choosing his word carefully. “Care for you, Rebecca.”
“And I care for you, Morgan. I don’t want to not see you. These last few weeks have been, well…”
“Difficult?” he offered.
She nodded mutely.
“Then how about we see each other, get to know each other, without touching, without kissing, without fear.” He paused. “I don’t want to see you afraid. I don’t ever want to see you afraid. Especially if I’m the cause of it.”
“It’s not you, not really. It’s me. It’s difficult, I don’t want—”
He pressed his finger lightly against her lips. “I don’t want to know if you don’t want to tell me. We have time to get to know each other’s secrets.”
Carefully he withdrew his hand and stepped away, tightening his bandage and putting a tube of salve into his pocket. She waited for him to speak. He pushed his bandaged hand through his wind-blown hair. “Christ, I’m a mess.”
“No. You look…” she hesitated, before she could say “gorgeous”. Telling him he was “gorgeous” wouldn’t get her anywhere. “You look fine. Really.” She sighed, releasing the tension. “Well, you will after you have a shower.”
He nodded. “You like horses, yes?”
“Yes, love them.”
“Then I’ll show you around the estate. Next weekend. I’ll take you riding.”
“I’d like that.” That must have been the understatement of the year. “Very much,” she couldn’t help adding, particularly when his eyes crinkled into that warm smile that was somehow contained only in his eyes. “And then on your next day off, I’ll show you my world. Show you the stars.”
“And I’d like that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“I thought you said you loved horses!” Morgan cupped his hands once more for Rebecca to put her foot in so she could mount the small gray mare he’d chosen for her.
“I do.” She put her boot-clad foot into his hands and fell hard against the mare’s flank, with a soft oophing noise as she winded herself. “But,” she gasped, “I didn’t say I knew anything about them.”
Throwing discretion to the wind, Morgan placed his other hand under her bottom and pushed her up. Christ, just the feel of her bottom under his hands made him want her. Instinctively he swept his thumb around her curves, sweeping her inner thigh. He pulled back abruptly. What the hell was he doing? He stepped away. Playing with fire, was what he was doing. Thank God she hadn’t noticed. She was too busy trying to figure out how to move from her current position where she was lying across the horse. “Swing your other leg around.”
Suddenly she was there, sitting on top of the mare, looking very proud of herself. “There, see, I knew I could do it.”
“Do what? Get on a horse? What about ride one?”
“Well, I haven’t done that before. But how hard can it be?”
He had to smile, despite his frustration at having to change his plan of where he was going to take her. It was just Rebecca being Rebecca. He was no good at analyzing people, but Rebecca was easy to work out. He knew, instinctively, that she’d never see an obstacle until she’d run into it, fallen over it or jumped clear over it. He wondered which she’d do this time.
“Well, she’s a gentle mare. She’ll look after you. We’ll see how you go.”
He jumped up onto his horse and looked over at her. There was a faint look of alarm in her eyes. “You’ll be okay. Hold the reins like this, and grip with your thighs. Not your heels,” he added as Rebecca’s horse started to trot out of the yard. Rebecca bounced on the mare’s back and Morgan shook his head and followed her.
“You okay?” He nudged up his hat and glanced at her.
She
bounced stoically, gripping onto the saddle and the reins for dear life. She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it.
“Go a bit faster and then you can sink into a canter. It’s easier.”
“Faster?” She managed to squeak. “No way.”
“Trust me, you’ll find it more comfortable. Just gently squeeze your heels into her flanks.”
She shook her head determinedly.
“Okay, bring her back to a walk. Pull on your reins a little and she’ll ease back. Not too much. She’s a soft mouth.”
The mare immediately returned to walking pace. Morgan glanced at Rebecca but she made no comment. He had to admire her for that. She’d try her hand at anything and wasn’t about to moan and whinge if it proved difficult. She was a brave wee thing.
“So, where are we headed?” She even managed a brief worried smile.
He pointed to the foothills. “Thought I’d show you the view from the ridge.”
“Oh, that’s quite a long way really isn’t it?” She glanced uneasily down at her horse.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On whether you get your mare going above a walk.”
“For the moment, she’s fine. We’re just getting used to each other.”
He grunted. Putting off the evil moment when she’d have to learn how to hang on to a moving horse, more like. Still, it was up to her. “Okay.”
Despite the brisk wind, the sun was bright and warm for midwinter. At least Rebecca was dressed for the conditions in her thick coat, boots and hat, even if she hadn’t the first idea how to ride. Although she was beginning to look more comfortable with each step.
Morgan sank into the easy silence that was his usual response to the massive emptiness of the Mackenzie basin. He squinted into the distance under the bright golden light and marveled again at how at home he felt here.
“You look like you belong here.”
Startled, Morgan turned to Rebecca. He could read her like a book. Seemed like she could do the same with him. He just hoped she couldn’t read all his thoughts. “What?”
“Belong. You look like you’re a part of this place. How long have you been here?”