Daughter of the Murray

by Darry Fraser

  Her shoulders dropped. ‘I will think more about it,’ she said quietly and stood.

  He stood with her but didn’t reach for his cravat or scarf. Instead, he reached across and tucked a wayward tendril of dark hair back behind her ear.

  Her eyes did not meet his. If they had, she would have burned in bright flames.

  ‘Georgina, we have not been friends.’

  ‘I agree. We have not.’ Her voice dried in her throat and a pulse beat heavily at her temple. The room seemed to close in, and her hands clutched at the front of her gown.

  He took a step closer. ‘It would mean a great deal to me to court you, and—’

  She looked up, a sharp toss of her head. ‘To secure a business deal?’

  Dane laughed. ‘A cynic, as well. No. I would like very much to pursue what I know there is between us. You can’t deny there are very strong feelings.’

  She inclined her head. ‘Perhaps. But there is a proper way to deal with those feelings.’ She sighed then, and dropped her chin. ‘I just don’t know what it is.’

  ‘I do.’ He touched her hair again. ‘I have thought of this shimmering black silk often since the night by the river. I’ve thought of it, wrapped, just so, in my hands.’ His voice, husky, broke with a ragged breath. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  He pulled a pin from her hair, and as she stood not moving, not speaking, he pulled another pin and another, until the dark mass cascaded over her shoulders. He wound a lock of her hair around the fingers of one hand, and buried his other hand deep in the heavy length at the back of her head. At that moment he exhaled long and deeply.

  ‘Just so.’

  There is nothing in this room but Dane MacHenry … No breath of air, no light or dark, no sound, no scents, just him and everything he is. No right or wrong. Just Dane MacHenry.

  But there was mourning to serve. And she was alone with him in this room, unchaperoned. She might not resist, and her reputation—

  What were these thoughts? A jumble of immature anxieties or adult sensibilities? She’d tried to build a good life with a husband and a home and—

  Georgie’s breath left her in a rush. She grasped his wrists. ‘You must go. Should Manning—’

  ‘He won’t be back and you know it.’ He picked up a tress of her hair.

  ‘But Deborah—Mrs Dawson … ’ She dropped her hold on him and stepped away. The lock of hair drifted out of his fingers.

  ‘Neither will they, if they know their place.’ Dane came closer again, but made no move to touch her. ‘Don’t fight this.’

  ‘I should do nothing but that.’ She looked to the carpet at her feet. He was so close, the warm thrills of his pulse rushed to her belly. She held her hands out, low, for reason, for time. ‘I have tried to live as best I can … I am in mourning, I must abide by these rules of society, at least.’ He would hear her heart thudding. She would lose this game she knew nothing about.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed in a whisper and touched his forehead to hers. ‘You are a woman in mourning. A woman, nonetheless. And I am here, and I am alive. We are of the same pod, Georgie. We live our lives. People like us go beyond society’s norms.’

  His breath on her face, the scent of his body as it floated up to her from under his shirt, the way his hair fell against her face, and the rasp of his beard stubble against her cheek … She stilled, and every part of her being longed for him. Every part of him belonged to her.

  ‘It is too soon … ’

  ‘It is not soon enough.’

  She closed her eyes, tried to breathe slowly, waiting for her heartbeat to calm. ‘There must be a proper way.’

  ‘There is.’ He enclosed her within the circle of his arms, carefully, tenderly. ‘Come to me willingly, Georgie. That would be proper, for us.’ He kissed her forehead, a press of warm lips, firm and reassuring.

  ‘There will be unkind talk.’ She leaned in a little, his solid chest seductive, inviting under her hands; the soft thud of his heartbeat against her palms.

  ‘We are not unused to that, but there is no need to suffer it.’ His chin rested on her head.

  Longing curled in her belly. Then his lips pressed softly, softly on her face and on her throat and became languid as he tilted her chin. She caught her breath. His hand slid to cup her breast, unfettered in her linen shift.

  Give in to it …

  Her hand slipped inside his shirt and she felt the shivery fever of her effect on him. His skin was warm, and dark chest hair caressed her hand. Her heart turned over as the beat of his life thudded against her palm.

  Then he bent to her, holding her hands there against him, and kissed her mouth, lips gliding over hers. The prickle of his stubble left a trail of tingles.

  She would take him as hers. She would take him to her room, she would not deny this any longer. She would lay with him, grasp his body to her, lay his head on her breast, take his hand and …

  Georgie smiled a little, leaned into his kiss and then broke away. ‘Not here.’

  He scowled. ‘Then to your room, or it will be here, servants or no. I’m not made of stone.’ His voice grew jagged in his throat, but his gaze on hers never wavered.

  ‘I know. I’ll not make us wait.’ She smiled again and lifted his hands, brought them to her face and kissed his fingertips, took his forefinger to linger on her mouth. ‘It is this way,’ she said softly. ‘Up the stairs.’

  She leaned against him, braced by his arm around her as they climbed the stairs. He wouldn’t let her go, afraid she would change her mind. He held her fast under his arm, against his chest, murmured to her that she would be his, that he would look after her.

  At the top of the landing, she eased away and pointed to a door some small distance to the right. ‘Would you like to use that room first?’

  ‘And what room is that?’

  She lifted a shoulder. ‘A gentleman’s room.’

  He shook his head. ‘The only room I want is yours. Why would I need to use another?’

  She pointed to the first door on the left and glanced back at him.

  He gathered her to him again, his cheek in her hair. ‘Then, my beautiful Georgina, please invite me in.’

  She clasped and unclasped her hands. ‘I have brought you up the stairs, I know,’ she began. ‘And I know my intent, I do, but … ’

  ‘Good, because whispering all night in the hallway is not my intent.’

  He looked so fierce she gave a little laugh, fell against him and slid her hands down his arms to his wrists. Her fingers entwined his. ‘Then we must get out of the hallway.’

  The door was opened and she entered ahead of him, then Dane closed the door firmly behind him.

  Georgina faced the bed for a few seconds, then turned to him.

  He pulled at his shirt, removed it from his trousers and threw it over a wooden chest at the foot of the bed. He took her by the shoulders and kissed her again, slowly. He kissed her neck, found a curious little spot that, when brushed by his prickly chin, sent shivers down her body.

  He bent to kiss her again, his fingers undoing the buttons on her flimsy nightdress. Georgina wrapped her arms around his neck, but he refused to be drawn from his task. He pulled the shift over her head and she wriggled out of it.

  Off came his boots.

  As her cool hands moved over his chest, he scooped her up and laid her on the bed. His breeches came off, her chemise slid away at his touch and he pressed his body closer, aware his arousal was great and he would not be much of a lover tonight.

  She tensed and he looked at her face. ‘What is it?’ His rigid penis was pressed to her thigh and it was there her gaze travelled, and back to his face. ‘What?’ he asked again and kissed her neck.

  ‘Nothing,’ she whispered back. ‘But I am a little afraid, that’s all.’

  ‘You, afraid?’ He kissed her slowly then touched her lips with his tongue. She sighed and pushed up to him. He bent his head, his mouth taking a nipple and tugging gently, insistently, until she cried out.<
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  He lifted her off the bed to sit in his lap, and she gasped, trying to cover herself. He laughed and kissed her nose, lowered her and pulled her towards him. His hands caressed her full breasts and the hard, thrusting nipples. Then he lapped with his tongue, and she arched. Still she resisted, trying to draw back.

  A little game of tease, he thought, and as he firmly drew her closer, he slipped himself just inside her. She made a noise in her throat and he struggled to hold on, to hold back.

  He kissed her face and neck, suckled her breast and when he thrust again, found resistance.

  ‘What—what is this?’ His voice sounded hoarse to his ears. She shook her head. He couldn’t wait, explanations would have to come later—now, he just had to—

  He pushed tentatively and the tight warmth of her body took his breath away. She gave a little cry and pushed down. He suckled at the heavy breasts rising and falling, encouraged her to move against him and when he could no longer resist, pushed further into her, holding her hips, driving into her.

  The grip of her body on his, the throb inside her and the warm, wet pulsing as she rose and sank on him, her scent, the smattering of freckles on her face, her grip on his arms … holding on, encouraging him …

  He’d waited long enough. He thrust up once, hard. She cried out and sent him crashing recklessly into a powerful climax, crushing her to him as he came inside her.

  Spent, he pulled her down on the bed with him and they lay entangled until he was able to slip from her. He brushed the hair from her face and looked into the lovely liquid eyes as they widened in wonder.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, suddenly tired beyond measure.

  Georgina shook her head and hesitantly touched her body where they had joined only a moment ago.

  He propped up on one elbow over her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He frowned. ‘Forgive me, but—’

  ‘Please don’t say anything. I am—I am very … ’

  He kissed her again. ‘Your life was not as it seemed, Georgie.’ He brushed her face with fingertips.

  She shook her head, not speaking.

  His heart burst. No other man had been where—he wondered at the strange physical relationship this woman had had with her husband.

  She looked up at him as if trying to read his thoughts. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Yes—no. But I would have been more—’

  ‘Don’t,’ she cried. ‘I don’t understand these things.’ She went to climb off the bed, embarrassed, but he snaked an arm around her and drew her to him.

  He buried his face in her hair, and nestled his chin where her neck met her shoulder. ‘Georgie, I should have taken you for my own before you had a chance to run off and be married to him. Here,’ he said and pulled the covers back. ‘In you get. It’s warmer.’ She snuggled under and looked at him, laughed when he suddenly growled and jumped under the covers with her.

  He was quick to recover, her nearness irresistible. He was uneasy about his treatment of her virginity but then she guided his hand shyly to her most private part. When her pleasure drew to its height, he lost all thought and moved himself inside her. She seized him with a powerful fervour, and he was swept away.

  They lay back, Georgie’s body tucked alongside his.

  He knew he’d found what he’d been looking for all his life.

  Twenty-Eight

  Georgie woke with a start.

  ‘Is there a fire?’ His eyes were still closed, his voice drowsy. His hand draped possessively over her hip as she lay with her back to him.

  ‘It must be nearly dawn.’ She made to get out of bed.

  ‘Don’t be in such a hurry, Georgie. Plenty of time.’ He held her wrist tightly.

  ‘I’m not playing. Please, Dane, it’s nearly morning. You must go before the sun comes up.’ She had sat up despite his hold on her.

  The thrust of her bosom in the early morning light, the nipples puckering as cool air hit them, tempted him too much. His other hand reached around to caress her.

  ‘No,’ she cried. ‘You must go.’

  He dropped her wrist and swung his legs off the bed. ‘The coming of daylight will not stop the tongues wagging.’ He stood over the bed and saw she averted her eyes from him. ‘Is that what you mean?’

  ‘Manning—and the two women. The whole street will soon be talking.’

  He came to her side of the bed. ‘It doesn’t end here with your telling me to go home. I thought you’d have realised that.’ Then he cupped her face gently and sat beside her on the bed. ‘This is the real beginning for you and me. It won’t stop now.’

  ‘I cannot see you here again.’

  He laughed. ‘I think you will. And soon. Not the time for girlish vapours, now, Georgie. You’re mine, and we both know it.’

  ‘It is the same as before, and with nothing more between us but—’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ He stood and pulled on his breeches. ‘I will be back. Besides, there’s still business to discuss.’

  She clutched the bedclothes to her as much for modesty as for warmth, puzzled at his mention of business. ‘No, no business. What was between us last night doesn’t change anything.’

  He looked surprised. ‘I’m disappointed you think that. It changes everything. We will marry.’

  Her mind raced. Marry? ‘Don’t be ridiculous. How can I marry? I am in still in mourning.’

  ‘Georgie, Georgie. Our little tryst is hardly a secret. And I am an honourable man. Of course I will marry you. I want to marry you.’ He leaned over and touched her nose with a finger. ‘Mourning be damned. I didn’t see a mourning widow last night.’

  She stared at him as he stood dressing himself in front of her. Of course he would say he’d marry me—that’s why he mentioned business. ‘Honourable. You think if you marry me you’ll get not only the Carriers, but Jacaranda as well. You have not mentioned that since. Then you can think again. I know the law.’

  ‘Shush. Those very gossipy servants are probably well awake and fully aware I’m in your room. My scarf and cravat are still in the parlour.’ He pulled on his boots. ‘I won’t be marrying you to get anything you own, but we will be talking about Jacaranda.’ He stood up, shrugged into his shirt and tucked it in. ‘You’ll marry me sooner or later, it’s just a matter of nature taking its course.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said I was honourable.’ He kissed her mouth tenderly before she tried to pull away. ‘I will be back.’ He tapped her nose with his forefinger again and was gone.

  She lay under the covers, angry with herself, then strangely pleased. Which is it, she demanded of herself, angry or pleased? But as she closed her eyes to think of his body in hers and the smell of him, and the look of him, all she remembered was the intense and utter pleasure she experienced with him beside her.

  She drifted back to an uneasy sleep, conflicting thoughts and fears swirling inside her head. There would be a solution. She would find it, she was sure. But as her dreams claimed her, she knew deep down there was really only one way.

  ‘Georgina. Georgina.’ Kate Forrestor had her by the shoulder, shaking gently.

  ‘What—what’s happened?’ Georgie tried to sit up in her bed, still groggy from a deep sleep. The covers had slipped to reveal a bare shoulder, and she automatically drew them up over her body. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s so late, my dear. When we called in, Deborah said she was worried about you.’

  Georgie knew well why Deborah hadn’t come up herself. ‘Well, I did have a good long sleep, then.’ She laughed breathlessly. ‘As you can see, I’m quite safe.’

  ‘Whatever are we to do with you?’ Kate asked, and tsked gently.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mindful of her nudity and the delicious warmth that spread through her body as she recalled the night’s events, the covers came up even further. She knew it was a waste of time trying to fool Kate. ‘I feel bad enough, I don’t need you to—’

  ‘Bad enough? Oh yes. I know those
widow’s weeds are supposed to say it all, but I doubted right from the very beginning that your Mr MacHenry would let you hide behind them.’

  ‘He’s not my Mr MacHenry.’

  ‘Bosh,’ Kate said. ‘When a man comes calling in the middle of the night and stays until the small hours, I’d say he was definitely yours.’

  ‘Deborah.’ Georgie looked up, defiant, but the smile on Kate’s face meant she wasn’t being rebuked.

  ‘Manning, actually.’

  Georgie huffed. ‘It was hardly the middle of the night and I don’t know what you—I don’t know what I—’

  ‘Conor saw that passionate spirit, that’s why he married you.’ Kate patted her hand. ‘And I’m no hypocrite either.’

  Tears pricked her eyes. ‘I don’t know what I felt for Conor, Katie. He’s your brother, I know, but he was not what he seemed. He was a very—’

  Kate held up her hands. ‘All I know is you were a good and faithful wife, I’m quite sure of that. Yet all the while I knew your heart lay with another. Don’t deny it. Anyhow,’ she continued, crossing the room to Georgie’s wardrobe. She pulled out a fresh dressing gown. ‘Your meeting with him seems to have cleared up a few problems.’ She returned and held it out to Georgie.

  Georgie struggled into the gown, and threw off the bed covers. ‘Cleared up what problems?’

  ‘Now with a wedding on its way—leaving the correct amount of time, of course—you won’t have to worry about the business.’

  ‘I would not think of marrying so soon after—’

  ‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before you allowed Mr MacHenry into that bed last night.’ Kate indicated the rumpled bedclothes. ‘Regardless of the mourning period, you need to be married again, and as soon as convention sanctions. A scandal would do your standing in society no good at all. Not to mention the damage to the Foley name.’

  A furious rush of blood burned Georgie’s face. ‘Scandal?’

  ‘Come now, Georgie. Better to stop the tongues wagging before they start. Besides which, I have known Dane MacHenry was your man ever since the night of your wedding reception—and most probably before that.’