by Diana Fraser
His eyes narrowed. “Like all he has to do is smile that charming smile of his and you’ll go running to him.”
“And did he smile?”
Morgan grunted and looked away. “You know he did.”
She shrugged, looking innocent. “And did I go running?”
He looked back at her. There was a moment’s pause. “No, you didn’t.”
“And doesn’t that tell you anything?”
“That you’re too damn clever to get sucked in by the likes of him.”
With every word, every movement, every jealous instinct of his, he was telling her what she wanted to know, what he refused to tell her in words.
Every instinct in her screamed to go up to him, to touch his arm, to mold her palm to his muscles on which the sunlight from the open window played, causing shadows that only accentuated his strength. She’d shift her hand then, not to the rest of his body, as much as she’d like to, but to his face. To hold it between her hands and to stand on tip-toe, while at the same time she’d pull him down and kiss him. She wanted to do this so she could know him again, so she could feel his breath in her mouth and forget all the problems, all the hurdles that lay between them. Even if it was for a short time.
She wanted to do these things. But she didn’t. She was too unsure, too scared that she’d make a fool of herself, that Morgan didn’t want her as much as she wanted him.
“Would you like anything else to eat?” She walked briskly over to the table. “Gemma had the housekeeper bake some pies she thought you’d like.”
She turned and he stood immediately behind her. She was so close she could see the dark flare of desire in his eyes. He flexed his hands and shook his head.
“No, I want to be with Joe when he wakes up. I need to make sure he settles in okay.”
She nodded, her heart about to break. “Settle into New Zealand. But—”
“Not settle into Glencoe. That’s right. It’s not his home. I need to be nearer town, for Joe’s sake. I want to get him into school and stay put until he’s finished. It’s too remote for him out here.”
“But Gemma and Callum’s kids will be here,” remonstrated Rebecca.
“And they have the money to move around whenever, to wherever they like. I need to find a place where Joe can mix with kids and have a normal life. Where I can find someone who can look after Joe while I’m working. I need to put down roots.”
She frowned. “And you can’t put them down here? Lake Tekapo has a school. There’ll be people who can help. Me, for instance.”
“You work full time, sometimes shift work. And you’re not his mother.”
She bit her lip, trying to prevent the hurt and the words springing to her lips that she didn’t dare utter. “No,” she mumbled awkwardly, “I’m not.” She turned away.
“I mean… Just that he’s my responsibility, not yours.”
“Sure. I get what you mean.” She smiled what she hoped was a confident and reassuring smile but if it revealed a small part of how she felt, she knew she’d have failed.
“I can’t stay here.” He paced away, glanced up at the portrait. “It’s this place,” he looked around, as if in despair. “It’s not for me.”
“It’s just a place, Morgan.”
“It’s more than that. I can’t explain.”
“Try.”
He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again. “I can’t. It’s not right. You’ll have to take my word for it.”
A month ago and she’d have argued with him, would have tried to see the logic in his argument, tried to win him over with her own reasoning. But instead she nodded her head, as she tried to fight the urge. She felt more for Morgan than she’d ever felt for anyone and she knew that throwing words at this cowboy wasn’t the way to win him over. There was only one way to do that… and that was with actions. Just what she could do though, she had no idea.
The door opened and Gemma put her head around. “Joe’s awake and he wants you.” Gemma smiled uncertainly at Rebecca as she took a step forward too. “I think he might just want his dad, Rebecca.”
“Oh…” Rebecca stopped and looked at Morgan.
“Just for now,” Gemma added gently. “He’ll be more settled tomorrow.”
Rebecca went into the hall with Gemma and watched Morgan climb the grand staircase feeling the distance between them grow even more.
Gemma put an arm around her and gave her a brief hug. “It’ll be all right, Becks. Joe’s just unsettled and I don’t blame him. He’ll be fine in a few days. But for now, I think he’s best off with his dad.”
Rebecca watched Morgan disappear. Joe might be fine, but what about Morgan… what about her?
CHAPTER NINE
Morgan stood outside Rebecca’s door, his hand poised to knock. But he hesitated. Would she even want to see him after what he’d put her through? He took a deep breath of the cold night air. Callum had told him he had to grovel. Gemma had said the same thing. She’d insisted on looking after Joe so Morgan could go and do just that. So here he was, and for the first time in his life he felt unsure.
Suddenly the door swung open and Rebecca stood there, haloed by the Victorian pendant lamp that hung behind her.
“Morgan.”
He dropped his hand, feeling foolish. “I was going to knock.”
“Yes, I imagined that was what you were about to do. I was watching you from down the hall. But you took too long.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure whether you’d want to see me.”
“I can see why you’d think that. What with you telling me to trust you, right before I found out you were married—”
“Was married—”
“and have a child,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And that you’re also going to leave. Yeah, I can imagine you’d think I wouldn’t want to see you.”
“Do you want to see me?”
She shrugged and opened the door. “Not particularly. But as you’re here, you may as well come in. It’s too cold to stand outside with one hand raised all night.”
Morgan grunted, nodded his head and followed Rebecca inside, closing the door on the chill night. He went into the kitchen where she was filling the kettle. “Tea?”
He hated tea. “Great, thanks.”
“Take a seat, it won’t be long.”
He sat on the small chintz-covered sofa and looked around and felt the ache in his heart tighten a little. The house was so like Rebecca. Pretty and sweet. But there was something more than that. It was homey. She’d created the home she’d always wanted. The home that meant so much to her. The home he could never ask her to leave.
“How’s Joe?” She slid a mug of coffee over to him. “I know you don’t like tea.”
He nodded and took a sip. “He’s good. Gemma’s with him.”
“She told you to come here?”
He nodded. There didn’t seem to be any point in doing anything else.
“Hm. Thought she might. So what else did she tell you to do?”
“Grovel.”
“Good advice. So go on then.” She sat back and folded her arms expectantly.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I should have told you sooner.”
“Damn right.”
She still had her arms folded and her head was cocked to one side as if waiting for him to say something further. Christ, what else did he have to say to make things right? He cleared his throat. “It’s just that I never talk to anyone about my personal life.”
“Not even people in your personal life?”
“It’s not happened before. Not like this.”
She still looked unmoved. “Go on.”
He licked his lips that suddenly felt dry. He hated talking about anything, let alone feelings. But he had to say the right thing now or else he might never have another chance. “You’re not like other girls, you’re different—” He stopped as soon as he’d said the word because he could see from her face that it was the wrong word.
&n
bsp; “Different,” she enunciated clearly. “How so? Strange—because I’m a scientist? Gauche—because I say what I think, even if those thoughts are a little... how would you say it, different?”
“You’re twisting my words. I’m just trying to say that you’re not like all the other girls”—he held up his hand when he saw her open her mouth to speak—“in a good way. I couldn’t take my eyes off you from the first moment I saw you. And every time I saw you, I noticed something more about you.” For the first time he could see her defenses drop and a warm light spark in her eyes. He was on the right track. “It was like, like…” He panicked for a moment as words failed him and then he had a brain wave. “It was like Gemma’s painting of you. I watched her sketch in the lines first. And it was these lines that first drew me to you. And then she began painting in the different parts of you. How you held yourself, the tilt of your chin.” Her arms unfolded and her lips curled into a soft smile. He sighed. “And your eyes, Rebecca.” He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and swept her cheek in a brief caress. She leaned into it and he kept his hand there. “Your eyes were the last part of you to be painted and they completed the picture. And then I knew.”
“What?” she whispered.
“That I felt more for you than I’d ever done for anyone else. That I wanted you to be mine but that I could never ask you. Never. You were too good for me.”
She turned her face into his hand and kissed the palm. He felt her touch all over his body. Then her lovely mouth turned up into a smile. “That, Morgan West, was a good grovel.”
He grinned back. “It was harder than I thought.”
Then her smile faded and she sat back in her chair and refolded her arms. His heart sank. “And what are your plans? Do you still intend to leave as soon as you can?”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“No. Because that would mean leaving behind something too important to me.”
She bit her lip. “Your job?”
“No.” He rose and went over to her, extending his hand to hers. She took it and he pulled her to standing. He thrust his fingers through her hair and held her head steady, tilting it so it was closer to his. The time for groveling was over. It was time to take control again. “No,” he repeated. “You.” He dipped his head down to hers and kissed her.
By the time the kiss ended, Rebecca was trembling in his arms, her body pressed against his with a desire that matched his. Breathlessly she stepped away. For a moment he thought she’d regretted the kiss. But then a slow smile settled on her lips and she reached out and slipped a finger through a loop of his jeans.
“I want you, cowboy.” Her eyes dropped and then raised to his with a smug look. “And I can see it’s reciprocated. So what are we waiting for?”
All he could do was to shake his head, grab her hand and pull her into the bedroom. Once inside, she unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. He was ready for her all right. He sucked in a harsh breath as her small warm hands wrapped around his hard cock that throbbed for her.
He pushed his hands up her dress and thrust them inside her tights and panties. Feeling how wet she was for him, he yanked them both down with one tug. She fell back on the bed. But instead of coming to her immediately he stood back, watching her intently as he pulled a condom from his pocket, tore the packet open and rolled it on. Then he was upon her. With his jeans around his knees he thrust straight inside her with a grunt. Her wet enveloping heat seared through him, making him tremble with need. He arched away so he could see her better. Her top open, exposing one breast, clothes crumpled, her mouth wide, panting, her eyes half-closed. Her glorious hair spread all around the white covers. With each thrust, her fingers dug deeper into his shoulders. And when her mouth found his neck and he felt the edge of her teeth against his flesh, for one brief moment he wondered if she were trying to hurt him. Then the thought fled, overwhelmed by the sensory explosion of making love to her.
She nipped his neck with her teeth, dug her fingers into his shoulders and writhed in his arms, but he didn’t flinch. She almost wanted to hurt him for his secret past, for what he’d done to her. She knew it wasn’t logical but he’d opened up that part of her which made no sense. And she couldn’t turn back the clock to become “cool analytical Rebecca” now. It was too late for that.
He held complete mastery over her now. She could be wild but he’d contain it, holding her in his arms, making sure she was safe. And she felt safe. He’d told her about his past and he was going to stay.
She cried out as they both orgasmed and the nips turned to kisses and the scratches turned to caresses.
There was a long pause and slowly they moved apart. Rebecca lay looking at the ceiling as her heart rate returned to normal. After a few seconds, Morgan got up and pulled on his trousers. He looked at her awkwardly as he did up his belt. “I have to go.”
She looked up at him, at his glorious body, so strong and hard which hid such a warm and loving heart. A heart that was leaving her. But only for now.
A huge lump appeared from nowhere and lodged in her throat. For the first time ever she didn’t trust herself to speak. They’d made love before and she knew, without a doubt, they’d make love again. But something had changed between them, deepened, become more intimate. Except the lovemaking had been too brief. Instinctively she knew they both needed more time.
“Can’t you stay a little longer?”
He shook his head. “I can’t, Rebecca. You know I can’t.”
And she did. She pressed her lips together and rose, pulling on her dressing gown. “Yes, of course. I don’t know why I asked.” She flashed him a brief smile and walked over to the dressing table, picked up a hair tie and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. Behind her she could hear Morgan moving about the room, gathering his things. For a big man he moved quietly. She took a deep breath and turned to him. She’d hoped she’d collected herself sufficiently so he wouldn’t be able to see how much she wanted him to stay. She never felt insecure, but now she did. She’d hoped her feelings of insecurity wouldn’t be betrayed by the awkwardness of her movements. But she’d hoped in vain. Morgan stood silently watching her.
With one long stride he had her in his arms. “Look at me, Rebecca.” He tilted her chin so she had no choice. “I want you in my life and we’ll make time to be together. Here, at Glencoe, or in Tekapo, or wherever. But I have to make sure Joe is okay. He’s been through a lot.”
“Of course. Joe must be your priority. I’ll fit in around him. There’s no problem.” She smiled reassuringly as she touched his cheek. “I don’t want to pull you in different ways. I want what’s best for Joe too. He’s your son and so I... love him.”
She bit her lip. She’d practically told Morgan that she loved him. It was the truth but she didn’t think it was a truth he’d be ready to hear. She held her breath waiting to see what Morgan’s response was. It wasn’t what she’d hoped. He stepped away from her, as if in shock. “Right. Look, I have to go now. Thanks... for everything.”
She grunted. “You don’t have to thank me for sex.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. Thank you for understanding.” He sighed. “Thank you for not making me grovel too hard.” He grinned.
“I was going to but you’re obviously not very good at it. I thought I’d better help you out.”
“I’m grateful.” He pulled her into his arms, their bodies hard against each other’s and she wanted him all over again.
“Um, and so am I...” she whispered. “Now go, before I drag you into bed again.”
Rebecca followed Morgan into the hall, watched him walk out the door, down the small paved pathway, through the picket fence and into his ute. She stayed in the open doorway as the tail lights of his ute disappear down the street. She closed the door and leaned against it. He’d meant it when he’d apologized. He’d meant every word of it. He’d made love to her as if she truly were a princess—adoring every part of her. So why did she still
feel uneasy?
“Joe worries me.” Morgan accepted the beer from Callum and nodded to where Joe was playing with Dallas’s older daughter, Lily, in the snow. “He hardly speaks to adults and if there’s any sudden movement he looks terrified. And his nightmares…”
Callum walked up beside him and watched as Lily marched by followed by a distant-looking Joe. “Looks like he’s having fun with Lily, though.”
“I reckon Lily’s the only person he ever talks to. I thought he’d be more settled by now.”
“It’s only been a few weeks. Give him time.” Callum laughed. “Geez, look at Lily.” Morgan followed his gaze to where Lily stood, bright eyed, having just sent a snowball flying at Joe. Hands on hips, she was taunting Joe over something. “That little girl of Dallas’s is a monkey.” He opened the window so they could hear what was being said.
“Boys don’t throw things at girls,” Joe replied to the unknown taunt. And he turned around and stomped off, leaving an indignant Lily running after him, tugging on his arm.
“Come on up to the tree-house and play,” she urged.
Callum leaned out the window. “Not the tree-house, Lily, it’s dangerous. Too icy.”
“Okay!” she replied brightly at Callum, before running after Joe who’d stomped off to the cow barn.
“He loves his animals.”
“He’ll make a good farmer one day.”
“Maybe.” Morgan couldn’t imagine that far ahead. With every day that passed since they’d arrived back in New Zealand, he’d come to realize that Leah had been right. Something was troubling Joe deeply and Morgan hadn’t a clue what the problem was. The boy was too withdrawn, particularly with adults. Despite the incident with the snowball, Lily seemed to be the only person Joe really connected with.
He hated the feelings of frustration that swamped him when he couldn’t fix a problem with a combination of number 8 wire and brute force. He looked out at the frozen lake which was framed with white, snow-laden trees out of one of which, a tree-house jutted darkly.
“The lake’s frozen over just in time.”