Miranda Lee - Marriage At A Price

by Marriage At A Price(Lit)

  That night it had been her in the far shed with him, not that stable girl. Her being shown how to do what she'd seen, and more. Much more. Larry liked assertive women, as it had turned out. He liked them being on top. He liked being made love to by the female.

  Courtney had liked it too. Because she'd been in control. There'd been no question of male domination. Or of losing her head. The next time she'd met a man she fancied, she'd known exactly what to do. Not that there'd been all that many. Three or four over five years. Hardly a harem.

  'You must have fancied this Larry one hell of a lot,' Jack persisted, 'if he got past all your obvious defences. Either that or he was the best seducer since Casanova. Which was it?'

  Courtney suddenly realised Jack's questions had become very intimate indeed.

  Time to terminate this conversation! 'I fancied him one hell of a lot,' she said. 'Watch this next corner. This is where I ran off the road.'

  Jack's car took the corner as if it was on rails, and in a way it was, the deep, rainworn ruts keeping all four wheels securely within their walls. But when the low-slung bottom of the car scraped the top off the hump of dirt in the middle, Jack groaned.

  'I can see why people have four wheel drives out here,' he grumbled.

  'It'll be better once the council brings in the grader. They do that a couple of times a year.'

  'You should get on their backs to do more. Put some road base down or something. This is appalling.'

  'This is the country, Jack, not the city.'

  'Still...'

  Always sensitive to male criticism, Courtney was now on the alert for more, their arrival at the official entrance

  into Crosswinds making her smother a groan as she suddenly saw it through Jack's eyes.'

  The once proud iron archway, which had the word 'Crosswinds' emblazoned across it, was rusty, as was the cut-out drum sitting on a fence post, which served as their mailbox. Not an auspicious entrance for a property looking for an investor.

  Courtney waited for Jack to make a detrimental comment but he didn't. He just drove through the open gateway without saying a word.

  At least the driveway up to the house was gravel, she thought, and not rutted or potholed. The tall poplars on either side looked impressive, too, though the trees hadn't sprouted their leaves yet. Which was a pity. Their greenery would have distracted from the fences behind, whose greying paint seemed to have disintegrated further in the short time she'd been away.

  Still, the land beyond the peeling fences did look good, the lushly grassed paddocks and green hills beyond presenting a panoramic picture of surface prosperity. Peaceful mares grazed in yards on the left, whilst healthy-looking yearlings frolicked on the right. The various barns and buildings in the distance didn't look as shabby as they would up close.

  Hopefully, Jack's first impressions overall would be good. After all, she'd warned him about the recent lack of money to attend to what were really superficial things. He was the one who'd said it was the quality of the land and stock that mattered.

  Jack continued up the winding driveway at a sedate pace, his head swivelling left and right, his intelligent eyes drinking it all in.

  When his head stopped swivelling and his eyes stared straight ahead, Courtney's own gaze followed.

  Satisfaction filled her soul at the sight that had transfixed him. Her home, perched on the hill at the far end of the driveway, looking magnificent.

  'What a fantastic old house,' Jack said warmly.

  'I'm so glad you think so.'

  She smiled as her eyes moved lovingly over the house's stately grandeur, shown to advantage under the golden rays of the setting sun. The grey iron roof shone, and the white iron-lace balustrades which ran round the upstairs veranda sparkled. Any lack of recent painting certainly didn't show in the flattering afternoon light.

  'My great great-grandfather built it back in 1852, when he first bought the land and started up the stud. He was a merchant from Scotland and quite wealthy. The walls are made out of a local sandstone and all the woodwork is Australian cedar. The lead light panels in the doors and windows were made in Melbourne and transported up by bullock wagons. The marble tiles in the front hallway were shipped out from Devon and the brass light fittings were manufactured somewhere in the north of England.' I can't remember where exactly. He filled the whole house with wonderful European furniture, but unfortunately we only have a few pieces left.'

  "That's a shame.'

  'You can say that again. I wouldn't have come begging to Sydney if I'd still had them. I'd have just auctioned off the damned lot and paid off my debts. But Mum beat me to it. Over the years, every time she wanted to buy a brood mare she couldn't afford, she sold off a piece of furniture and replaced it with a cheap reproduction. As it is, all we have left is an ancient four-poster bed which stayed because it couldn't be moved out of the room without being totally taken apart.'

  'We?' Jack probed. 'I thought you were an only child.'

  'I was. I'm talking about me and Agnes.'

  'The housekeeper?'

  'I shouldn't have called her that. She's much more than a housekeeper. She's another reason why I'll do everything in my power to keep Crosswinds a going concern. She'd be lost if she ever had to move out and find somewhere else to live. The house is her life. And me too, I guess. We have a bit of a love-hate relationship at times, me and Agnes.'

  'How old is she?'

  'I have no idea. She's strangely coy about her age, but she looks about sixty. Sixty-five, maybe. She's one of those thin, wiry.women who's always on the go. Indefatigable, my mother used to call her.'

  'She sounds a character.'

  'She is. And a sweetie underneath her brusque exterior. Tell her you like her cooking and she'll be your slave for life. Ah, there she is, waiting for us on the front veranda. I rang her this morning after you called, to let her know we'd be home in time for dinner.'

  'She looks closer to seventy to me,' Jack said as he swung the car round to the base of the front steps.

  Courtney's eyes narrowed on the slump in Agnes's shoulders and the curve in her back she hadn't noticed before. Jack was right. Agnes was older than she'd thought, and looking it.

  Courtney's heart squeezed tight. Poor old thing. The death of her best friend had really knocked her for six; that and worrying about Crosswinds' debts. Courtney had told her the truth before she'd left to go to Sydney. No one else, however. Just Agnes.

  It had been great to give good news this morning.

  Courtney was out of the car in a flash and up the sandstone steps. 'Hi, there, Aggie!' she said, planting a peck on Agnes's gaunt cheek. No hug. Hugging had never been allowed around Crosswinds. 'You can stop worrying now. I'm back safe and sound.'

  Agnes squared her shoulders, her faded eyes showing a mixture of reluctant fondness and annoyance. 'I gave up worrying about you almost twenty years ago, girlie. Now, why don't you have some decent manners for a change and introduce me to our guest?'

  Courtney turned to find Jack right behind her, carrying her small duffel bag and his much larger suitcase. He was smiling a devilishly charming smile. Damn, but he was almost irresistible when he smiled like that!

  'If we waited for Courtney to find her manners,' he said teasingly, 'we'd be here all night. I'm Jack Falconer, investment broker to the rescue.' He dropped the cases at his feet and stretched out his right'hand. 'And you must be Agnes, the heart and backbone of Crosswinds. Courtney has told me so many wonderful things about you.'

  Agnes beamed whilst Courtney rolled her eyes.

  'Well, isn't it nice to meet a true gentleman for once?' Agnes said. 'But, my, you're a big fellow, aren't you? I think we'll have to put you in the front room with the four-poster.'

  Courtney opened her mouth to protest, because that big old bed had been the focus of her wilder sexual fantasies over the past few years and she didn't want to push her luck. It was going to be hard enough resisting Jack without thinking of him lying naked and spread-eagled
on top of that burgundy velvet bedspread, feet and hands bound to those four perfectly positioned bedposts.

  But she could hardly say that, could she? And she couldn't think of any other reason why Agnes shouldn't put Jack in that particular guest room.

  When her mouth snapped shut again, Jack gave her a small, strangely triumphant smile, as though he knew what was going on in her head.

  To add insult to injury, Biggs chose that moment to wake and jump down from the swing seat he'd been snoozing in, sauntering over to sniff Jack's hand, totally ignoring Courtney. Jack gave him a scratch behind the ears, whereby the traitorous animal practically drooled.

  'Nice dog,' Jack said.

  'Getting old now,' Agnes said. 'Like we all are.'

  'Not you, Agnes. You're just a spring chicken.'

  It was a corny line but Agnes loved it, brightening up no end. 'I've a good twenty years in me yet, young man,' she told him.

  'What's that delicious smell?' Jack asked, sniffing the air. Biggs sniffed with him.

  'I'm cooking a leg of pork. I hope you like baked dinners.'

  Jack groaned the groan of a true baked dinner devotee. 'Do I like baked dinners? I'd kill for one, but I haven't found anyone who could cook them like my mother. My darling mum's been passed away for a good few years now. But if my memory serves me correctly, her baked pork dinner smelt just like that. What's the secret, Agnes?'

  'It's the sage and onion you cook with it,' Agnes revealed smugly. 'Some people like apple with their pork, but apple's not a patch on sage and onion.'

  'I couldn't agree more. I can't wait to eat it.'

  'Dinner's at six on the dot. But you must be thirsty from your trip. Would you fancy a nice glass of sherry? I always have one around this time of day.'

  Jack grinned at her. 'Agnes, you wicked corrupter, you! Just let me drop these bags in the right rooms and I'll join you in that sherry.'

  'Courtney, you take Jack upstairs and show him where everything is. Oh, and get him some fresh towels out of the linen press. Those big blue bathsheets Hilary bought last Christmas would be best. Jack's going to need something large, by the look of him. I'll go check the dinner and we'll meet up in the front living room in ten minutes or so.'

  'Great,' Jack agreed.

  Agnes bustled off, leaving Jack to face Courtney's droll expression. 'I know who's the wicked corrupter around here,' she said drily.

  'And I'm glad to see your guard dog is on such good form,' Jack countered, still stroking Biggs behind the ears. When the dog suddenly dropped down and rolled over onto his back, offering his stomach to be rubbed, Jack obliged.

  Courtney scowled at her pet, but Biggs was too deep in doggie heaven to notice, or care.

  'Oh, for pity's sake,' she snapped, sweeping the cases up from where Jack had dropped them. 'Do stop spoiling that infernal dog and come along.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  BIGGS trotted into the house with them, slavishly staying by Jack's side and looking up at him with doleful eyes as they mounted the stairs. Jack resumed petting him behind the ears.

  'You're not doing him any favours, you know,' Courtney remarked tartly as they reached the top landing. 'He'll start howling when Agnes puts him out tonight'

  'I thought you said he slept on your bed.'

  'I lied.'

  His blue eyes gleamed. 'You're afraid of me.'

  Courtney glared at him. 'Too right I am. You know I fancy you and, being a typical male, you're not above using that fact to your advantage.'

  'Like Larry did?'

  'No, not like Larry did,' she snapped. 'For your information, I propositioned Larry, not the other way around.'

  "That's pretty daring behaviour, for a virgin.'

  Her chin lifted. 'I'm a pretty daring sort of girl.'

  'I know. I'm depending on it.'

  'See? You're doing it already. What's next? Are you going to dare me into going to bed with you? Or will you grab me and kiss me once we're alone, thinking I'll melt. Well, I won't melt, buster,' she warned. 'I'll knee you in your pride and joy so hard you won't be any good to any woman for quite some time.'

  He grimaced. 'I'll keep that in mind if I ever feel like grabbing you and kissing you.'

  'Do that!' She stalked off along the upstairs hallway, dropping her bag by her door before carrying his case into the front room and dumping it at the foot of the dreaded bed. One glance at the velvet spread had her swivelling round to leave straight away. Unfortunately, Jack was at that moment sauntering through the door, his devoted dog-slave at his heels.

  'Now, that's some bed,' he said as he walked towards her.

  Courtney stiffened and backed into one of the bedposts, her hands flying up ready to fight him off. 'Don't start, Jack,' she warned.

  'I won't. I just wanted you to know that my offer's still open, in case you change your mind later tonight.' He stopped at a short arm's distance, reaching out to pick up a stray curl and loop it behind her ear. The feel of his fingers brushing against her ear broke the surface of her skin out in goose-bumps.

  'I won't use any dirty tactics,' he went on, his eyes never leaving hers. 'Or pressure. Or passes. Though I suspect if I did you just might melt, and you know it. But that's not what I want from you.'

  'And what is it that you want from me, Jack?' she asked, her voice strange. It wasn't like her to sound like that, all soft and husky.

  'Everything,' he returned, and there was nothing soft in his voice. It was hard and determined and oh, so sexy.

  The temptation was acute. To say Yes, yes, you can have everything. Do everything. It's what I want, what I need, what I crave.

  Suddenly, it wasn't Jack tied naked to that bed in her mind but herself, helpless and mindless, writhing under his mouth, his hands, his body, moaning and groaning, crying out, begging.

  The begging bit saved her.

  God, the very thought of it. Begging some man. Begging Jack. No, no, no, that was not on!

  'I'll just get you those towels,' she said, pleased to hear her voice had returned to normal. 'And, Biggs, you get yourself back downstairs. If Agnes catches you up here in the bedrooms, you'll be exiled to the stables.'

  Biggs, who was terrified of the stable moggie, did a bolt for the stairs.

  'And you,' she added,.swinging back to Jack. 'You can get your mind back on the reason you came here;'

  Jack smiled. 'If you insist.'

  'I insist. Now...that brand' spanking new door over there leads into your en suite, a recent addition for privileged and usually married guests. I'll be back with the towels in less than a jiffy, then we'd best get downstairs too. I don't want Agnes thinking things.'

  'Would she?'

  "There's nothing Agnes doesn't think me capable of, Jack. Having a quickie with a handsome hunk like you would probably come low on her list of my many sins.'

  "Then why worry?'

  'Because I care what the old dear thinks of me, especially now, with Mum gone and her future in my hands.'

  Jack frowned. 'Ah, yes. Agnes's future...'

  'If I ever had to sell Crosswinds, it would kill Agnes.'

  'And you, Courtney? Would it kill you?'

  'Probably. But not before I killed every single person who made it happen!'

  "That was simply wonderful, Agnes,' Jack complimented as he sipped the last of his afterdinner cup of tea. 'I haven't had a meal like that in years.'

  You'd be right there, Courtney thought tartly. Not too many fancy Sydney restaurants serve up baked pork and crackling, with pavlova for afters. And I can't imagine darling Katrina specialised in home cooking. Her talents would have lain elsewhere, with the emphasis on lain.

  Irritated by her sarcastic thoughts, Courtney stood lip abruptly, scraping back her chair on the polished wooden floor. 'If you'll excuse me, I have to go see. if any foals are due tonight. No, don't get up, Jack. You stay here. It's pitch-black and pretty cold outside. Far better you tour the place with the benefit of daylight and sunshine. I shouldn't be too long. But
, if I am, don't worry. IFoals don't always do as they're told.'

  'Fine.' Jack shrugged those broad shoulders of his. Til give Agnes a hand while you're gone, loading up the dishwasher."

  'We don't have a dishwasher,' Agnes informed him.

  The surprised look on Jack's face annoyed Courtney.

  Actually, everything about Jack tonight was annoying her. His charm. His kindness to Agnes.. But most of all the way he could make her feel, without any effort on his part. He only had to be in the same room now, to set her heart pounding and her mind racing in erode directions.