Christmas with My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  Get control. Her inner voice broke in. This isn’t the time to allow your emotions to run riot.

  Scott was making towards her, his long strides as sleek and powerful as a big cat’s. Scott was far more than just a handsome man. He radiated presence. Authority. This was a man who would come off well no matter how difficult the situation. The women in the area, true to form, were staring at him open mouthed. Some were whispering among themselves. Some were even gasping with vicarious excitement.

  He isn’t a visiting movie star. He’s my ex-husband.

  The magnitude of the man was enough to overwhelm any woman. Darcey was fearful now that she was here, she might not be able to cope. Emotional tears had sprung into her eyes. She put up a hand to snatch a teardrop away. How she had missed him! Once such an admission would have had to be dragged out of her, but in truth she had never gone beyond her heartbreaking memories. She had thought of him every single day. How many times—forty, fifty, sixty? Come night-time, she had been desperate for the weight of his body on hers, the shuddering ecstasy of their lovemaking. There had been no solace anywhere. Scott had set the benchmark against which all other men were judged. She had lived life without him, overcome by loss.

  But she still had her pride. Not that it had done her any good.

  He reached her in no time. Startlingly blue eyes swept over her, deliberately appraising. “Darcey, darling!”

  His voice had always had a great physical attraction for her. Deep, dark, resonant, cultured. The voice of a man born to wealth and privilege. There was no love, no tenderness in his blue-fire eyes. She heard the contempt in the “darling” if no one else did. People were smiling as if witnessing a rapturous lovers’ reunion.

  “How wonderful to see you. Two years? It could be a lifetime.”

  For a long moment he held her sea-grey eyes. Then matching decision to action, he reached for her, folding her in tight to his tall, lean body kissing her long and hard on the mouth.

  Hunger and Punishment.

  Both emotions seemed to mingle in a sensual exchange that had to be born out of sheer starvation. Love might have flown, but sexual attraction never died. She did not attempt to fight his inevitable dominion. She couldn’t. Their bodies fit exactly as they used to, in exactly the same places. Their bodies refused to play the game of pretence. She clung to him until he let her go, though he kept one steadying hand at her back. A habit unbroken by time.

  Her mouth was throbbing. Adrenalin was blasting like a tornado through her veins. It was too easy to remember. The force of him! His arms around her! Her utter belief that with Scott she was safe.

  This is what it means to belong to a man.

  “You’re well, surely? Tell me you’re fine?” he asked, drawing back to gaze down on her, mockery in his dazzling blue eyes.

  You’re not the wretched heartbroken young woman you once were, Darcey.

  “Peace to you too, Scott,” she answered, breathless. “How glad I am to see you’ve conquered the ghosts of the past.”

  “Ghosts? What ghosts?” He took her nerveless arm, shepherding her towards the luggage chute as if they didn’t have a moment to lose before they could be alone.

  “Seriously, I applaud your positive attitude.” Despite their long separation, she remained incredibly attuned to him.

  “But Darcey, darling, I was always positive. You must remember that?” He kept a smile on his face for the benefit of the seriously avid onlookers. “Why have you come?”

  She took a deep breath. “Sophie asked me.”

  “Even though you must know you’ve walked recklessly into my den?”

  “Isn’t there something medieval about that?” she asked. “You know, demons and dragons?”

  “Strong emotions remain the same down the ages, Darcey. But of course, you are egging me on. That’s what women do, isn’t it?”

  “You could have said no. I would have respected that,” she said endeavouring to lessen the tremendous build-up of emotion.

  “Really?” His cutting tone tossed her answer aside. “Please don’t talk to me about respect.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Is this to be the sum of it, Scott? I rather hoped we could get through this. I don’t want bad feeling between us.”

  His answer couldn’t have been more direct. “You expect me to share that sentiment?”

  “For Sophie’s sake.”

  “You’re suggesting neutral territory?”

  “If it’s at all possible?”

  “Less of an embarrassment that way,” he agreed. “I think this is my mother’s ill-conceived effort to bring us back together.”

  “I’m so sorry if you think that.” She dared glance up at him, the strong regular features.

  “Ah, the sweetness of your voice, Darcey!” he mocked. “Before we shove the matter aside, can you tell me one thing? Have you ever once thought you should have believed me?”

  “I’ve come close,” was all she was prepared to say.

  “Manipulation by charm. You’re so damned good at it. I’m surprised you haven’t remarried.” He glanced down at her lovely face with its Madonna-like serenity. Even in the searing heat she looked as cool as a lily. Her skin always did have the lustre of a pearl. He had a sharp memory of dipping his head into the skin of her face, her throat, her breasts . . . “Or can’t you let go?”

  “I’m fine. I have my work.”

  “And awards too, I hear. My congratulations. I remember the time when you wanted to make changes to the homestead.”

  “I don’t deny it, but that was in due course. I recall you were considering it.”

  “I would have given you the sun, moon, and stars,” he said with acid self-deprecation.

  “How’s Ashlee?” she asked, to change the subject.

  “The same as ever.” He spoke dismissively.

  “Then she’s still in love with you.”

  “Along with others.” That delivered with black humour.

  Only it wasn’t a joke. Scott had to be one of the most eligible men in the country.

  “I’m not going to marry Ashlee, Darcey, if that’s what you’re asking. I never was going to marry Ashlee.”

  “Does she know?”

  Only then did she remember how much Ashlee Hunter had disliked her, though dislike was too tame a word. She would have her work cut out for her getting a hello out of Ashlee.

  “I pray she does,” he said shortly.

  “Hope springs eternal.”

  “That’s the vanity of women. Why don’t we forget Ashlee. She’ll find the right man. I loved you more than I can say, Darcey. Ashlee was on the scene then, remember? We married. Marriage means getting through the highs and the lows. Or it does to me. It means commitment. Only you were just a little lost girl, not the woman I thought you were. It takes time getting over betrayal. I can’t understand what possessed you to come.”

  “Forgiveness, Scott,” she said, low-voiced.

  He shrugged, unmoved. “Not yet. Not ever!” He gave her a glance that told her she was quite mad to think otherwise.

  “Forgiveness on both sides,” she suggested, her breath quaking. “You might give a thought to your own behaviour.”

  “Your accusations surpassed all understanding. Anyway, it’s all history now.” He gave an ironic shrug. “My mother wants you here. She’s extraordinarily fond of you, God knows why. Why else do you think I’ve come for you? I love my mother though she will interfere.”

  “She wants what’s best for you, Scott.”

  He gave a brief laugh. “Then one has to question her decision to invite you. I realize she wants me to find happiness again. Only, my dear Darcey, that woman certainly isn’t going to be you.”

  His words would have crushed her, only her heart was already crushed. “I accept that, Scott,” she said, bowing her glossy raven head. “Sophie did say you’d missed me.”

  “Not true,” he snapped. “My mother specializes in cases of emotional drama. I’m not good at forgiv
eness, Darcey. Not in your case anyway. Our marriage was as substantial as a desert mirage. I expect why you’ve really come is to assuage your guilt.”

  “Like it or not, Scott. I’m here. I promise I won’t bother you in any way.”

  “Thank you,” he said suavely, “though I doubt you could. I’ve always—” He broke off as a boy old enough to know better came careening at them with a laden luggage trolley. It seemed inevitable to Darcey it would hit her. She even made a little sound of alarm, but Scott moved swiftly. He threw a strong arm around her and pulled her out of harm’s way.

  “You okay?” he asked with what had to be sharp, temporary concern.

  “I’m fine.” When she was on the fine edge of despair?

  “Wait here.” He strode away before she could say another word. He went after the boy, easily catching up with him. He was talking so quietly his resonant voice didn’t reach her, but the boy was looking at him, his ears red, his expression over-awed and thoroughly repentant.

  Darcey turned away. There were always lessons in life to be learned. Mercifully the passenger luggage had arrived. It was already rolling down the chute.

  Scott, on his way back, made directly for the chute. He gave her a wry backwards glance when he pulled her two heavy pieces off the chute and set them down on the ground.

  “Is this your entire wardrobe here? Just how long is it you plan to stay?” he asked sardonically, when he joined her.

  Colour lit the delicate slant of her cheekbones. “It’s the evening dress,” she explained. “It took up most of one case.”

  For a split second Scott’s mask slipped. There was strong emotion there. Emotion of a man who felt himself threatened by his own needs? “I daresay you’ll be belle of the ball again. Just like old times. Times we both know are forever closed to us.”

  That painful knowledge made her wince.

  Don’t cry.

  Dammit, I won’t!

  * * *

  She hadn’t expected Scott would have come for her in the Beech Baron for such a short flight. He had flown in one of the station’s blue and silver choppers with the station’s insignia, a stylized PD. Planet Downs was one of the very first cattle stations to be established in the mid 1880s in the Australian Outback. Indeed, the Channel Country was known to the nation as the home of the cattle kings.

  Tears were trapped behind her eyes. Nothing seemed changed, she thought, her heart swelling as she looked down. How mighty was the land! So full of mystique and countless aboriginal legends.

  They were across the station’s south-eastern border now, in sight of the homestead, surrounded by its numerous satellite buildings. It truly was a kingdom in the middle of the wilds. A kingdom almost devoid of human habitation. The sight couldn’t have appeared more dramatic to Darcey, the exile.

  Planet Downs had been given its name because in the nineteenth century when it was founded, the furnace red soil was thought to be akin to the burning red soil of Planet Mars. It wasn’t all that long ago NASA had revealed Planet Mars wasn’t red at all, but a disappointing brown.

  The vast landscape beneath them, however, was a fiery red in stark contrast to the thousands and thousands of golden spinifex mounds that covered the expanse like fields of wheat. Looking down, it was easy to see some of the numerous water channels that criss-crossed the region and gave it its name appeared to be running near dry. This would be of great concern, although Planet Downs was blessed with several billabongs and creeks that held permanent water.

  The entire Outback was praying for rain. She, Darcey Gilmore, once Darcey MacArthur, had been praying as well. At the end of December they were into the monsoon season of the tropical north. Fire and flood were the real tragedies of the land. But rain! Rain turned the parched region into a wonderland of wild flowers. Every lake, water channel, billabong and lignum swamp on Planet Downs overflowed, bringing in legions of nomadic birds to nest.

  Once Scott had led her down a near-inaccessible wild lignum swamp to where the pelicans had come to build their nests. She remembered that adventure with intensity. Scott didn’t make that offer to everyone any more than to show them the aboriginal rock paintings in the Hill Country. These were privileges.

  Chapter Three

  They were greeted by a tall, trim station hand the moment they touched down. It came as a relief to Darcey that she didn’t know the man. He tipped his Akubra respectfully. She smiled back.

  “Put the luggage in the back of the jeep, Tom,” Scott called to him. “I’ll take it up to the house.”

  “Yep, Boss.”

  “Tell Linc I’ll meet him at the holding yard.”

  “Righty-O.”

  Neither of them spoke a word on the trip to the house. They sat side by side like Easter Island statues. Scott circled the home driveway, pulling up at the base of the short flight of steps leading up to the homestead’s broad porch. The huge building of beautiful honey-coloured sandstone, the same Helidon stone used in the construction of the Queensland University, shimmered in the strong sunlight. It was just as she remembered it, a Georgian manor house that belonged in the British countryside, never in the Australian Outback.

  Memories of Home, it was called. An attempt to recreate some semblance of the homeland they had left. The original central section was flanked by two large wings. The homestead was universally regarded as a very impressive building. The wings had been added at a later date. In Darcey’s view, they didn’t respect the history, the spirit, or the style of the main dwelling. She knew exactly how she could change that. Once Scott had been prepared to let her. That chance was forever gone.

  The luxuriant dry climate gardens she remembered looked parched. All that appeared to be thriving were the evergreen flame trees in gorgeous Christmas colour and the towering date palms that lined the long drive and gave it great drama.

  “So here we are again,” Scott said laconically. “Let’s get straight to business.” He hopped out of the jeep to unload her suitcases, carrying them up onto the porch while Darcey stood looking at him. Sophie had given her the opportunity to come, to set things right. Where was Sophie? She felt like some delicate plant hopelessly out of its habitat.

  Barely a moment more and Sophie’s small, slender figure came running out of the open front door, holding up her arms, just like the old days before all the grief and anger had set in.

  “Darcey!”

  Suddenly Darcey was crying. She didn’t deserve this.

  “Darcey, love!” Sophie reached her, gathering her into a hug, her body trembling with genuine delight. Her eyes too were glittering with tears.

  Scott stood back viewing them both sardonically. “It’s not the Prodigal’s return Mother.”

  “Oh, I’m so happy, happy. You’re going to stay for a bite to eat, darling?” she asked her son.

  Scott walked swiftly and very purposefully down the steps. “I’ve work to do, ladies. I expect you’ve got plenty to talk about.” His blue eyes held a brilliant satiric gleam.

  “Oh, we have!” Sophie cried cheerfully. “Ask Linc back to dinner.”

  Scott turned on his heel. “Shouldn’t you check with Sam first? Sorry. You don’t check. How could I forget!”

  “Ask him, please, dear,” Sophie repeated, putting her arm around Darcey’s waist and leading her into the cool of the large entrance hall where the Christmas tree in all its glory reigned.

  “How beautiful it is!” Darcey exclaimed. “Quite magical.” Once upon a time she had helped Sophie and Samantha decorate the Christmas tree. What joy they’d had! The carefree laughter!

  Both of them were looking rather tearfully in the direction of the tree when Samantha, dressed casually in a sleeveless cotton top and short skirt that showed off her great legs, walked down the stairs. Her body language was unmistakeable.

  “So you’re back with us, Darcey?” she said.

  “Hello, Sam,” Darcey responded with her lovely gentle smile. “It was very good of Sophie to ask me.” She moved towards her onc
e bridesmaid and sister-in-law, holding out her hand. “How are you?”

  “I’m well thank you, Darcey,” Samantha responded. “You look as beautiful as ever. I’m sure you know inviting you wasn’t exactly what Scott wanted,” she added, proving her good manners by accepting Darcey’s hand.

  “I realise that, Sam,” Darcey said, feeling cut off from the warm friendship she and Samantha had shared. “I’ve promised Scott I’m not going to bother him in any way.”

  “But you don’t always keep your promises, do you, Darcey?” Samantha pointed out with just the faintest suggestion of hostility.

  Sophie gave her daughter a smile that was decidedly on the frosty side. “We’ve discussed all this, Samantha. There will be peace at Christmas. Darcey is our guest.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry,” Samantha responded calmly, though there was a certain lack of Christian forgiveness in her expression.

  Darcey wasn’t surprised by Samantha’s attitude. Samantha was a spirited young woman with the redhead’s hot temper. She idolized her brother, the “finest of the finest,” which meant she had an unshakable belief in his word. In Samantha’s eyes, her brother could do no wrong. The wrong would always remain Darcey’s.

  While they stood there, a degree of tension between them, a good-natured-looking woman in her late fifties with short blunt cut orange hair, obviously dyed, an apron around her ample middle, bustled into the entrance hall, a beaming smile of her face.

  “Mrs. Darcey!” she cried, clearly elated. “I heard your voice!”

  Ah, the voice of angels! So much for the divorce then, Samantha thought watching on with some irony while the two came together. It was like a scene out of some tearjerker movie. The renewal of communication. Darcey threw an arm around their housekeeper, giving Clarry an affectionate hug which was warmly returned. Clarry always had thought the world of Darcey. A beautiful soul in a beautiful body. Or so everyone had thought.

  Even now Samantha didn’t believe Darcey had been deliberately treacherous—it wasn’t in her nature—more she had been a pawn in the hands of her aunt, who surprisingly had been taken in as well by a lying young tart called Becky. Probably Darcey’s so-called friend had been insanely jealous of her and wanted to wreck her marriage. Why else would she have lied? She must have been extremely convincing to convince the likes of Darcey’s formidable aunt.