Christmas with My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  “With a tiny touch of menace. Julie didn’t take to me any more than Ashlee did.”

  Samantha covered her brilliant eyes with her hands. “Oh, for God’s sake!” Her tone was dismayed.

  “When you think about it, Sam, it’s easy to destroy lives with lies. The victim of the lies sees nothing at the time. Liars are actually believed. Why is that? I think it must go deep into the psyche of the person who is lied to. The truth is more difficult to accept. We self-destruct when we listen to liars. It could well have happened to me.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Samantha answered, with grim determination. “The two of us could take a trip. Your aunt won’t talk, but we might be able to track down Rebecca.”

  “I think I know the answer already, Sam,” said Darcey.

  * * *

  The day was spent with treks to and fro to the house and conservatory to add more glamour to the decoration of the Great Hall. It took time and manpower up and down ladders. Scott saw to many of the treks, but the real power was laid on in the form of two young, very fit station jackeroos.

  “It’s marvellous what you can achieve,” said Sophie, greatly admiring of Darcey’s decorating skills. “I know this weekend is going to be a great success!”

  * * *

  Despite a full day on the go, she was wide awake long after midnight. Her mood was curiously glittery. On the one hand she was excited, keyed up. On the other she was assailed by a sense of hopelessness. The damage she had done, not only to the husband she had professed to adore but to his family and extended family and friends, was too extensive. She had been deported. Deposed. Lovely, warmhearted Sophie had clearly forgiven her. Even Samantha’s hostility was lessening. But Scott was toying with her. He knew her by heart.

  Tomorrow she would come in contact with another woman who loved him. Ashlee. A woman she had never had a hope of being friends with. She could just imagine how Ashlee would be seething at her return. To everyone it would look like Darcey was trying to get Scott back.

  Well, aren’t you?

  She suspected a great many women regretted their divorce, no matter how long the marriage was. As she drifted aimlessly around her bedroom in her blue negligee and robe, her eyes fell on the small pile of presents she had bought on a shopping spree for the family. She had included one for Clarry, who she knew would never leave the MacArthur family’s service. She had intended to hide them away in the pile Sophie and Samantha had already placed around the tree. Why not now, when no one was about? The family had retired hours ago. It seemed the right time to head downstairs. She placed the four beautifully wrapped presents back in the carry bag, taking hold of the plaited string handle. She needed to do this in private.

  When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she found the silvery moon making glorious rectangles of light through the tall windows. All that light made it easy for her to make her way to the tree with its sparkling ornaments and jewelled glints. She had just placed the carry bag gently on the floor—there were bottles of beautiful expensive French perfume inside—when she heard a sound, soft, unidentifiable, maybe a faint scrape. She looked around. She saw nothing. Nothing was moving in the dimness beyond.

  Maybe it was Santa arriving early?

  The fanciful thought eased her slight panic. There was no one here to hurt her. Swiftly she brushed back her long fall of hair, allowing it to tumble over her shoulders. In her working life she always pulled her hair back. It made her feel more professional, more in charge. She couldn’t help knowing people found her beautiful as her mother had been beautiful, but she concentrated on being the ultimate working woman.

  She took a few more steps towards the tree when a powerful arm suddenly came out of nowhere. It snaked around her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet. She kicked and struggled when she already knew who it was. Frozen stiff in a snowdrift, she would still be able to recognise his touch.

  “That’s enough now,” he whispered, his sensuous mouth pressed against her ear.

  “You frightened me!” All the nerves of her body were jumping at once. Her heart palpitated, a fevered by-product.

  “Darcey darling, I wouldn’t hurt you for all the world.” He sounded amused.

  “Are you going to let me go?”

  The pity of it all is that he did.

  “As long as you promise you won’t scream for help,” he said, breathing in the subtle fragrance of her. Not some created perfume, but her. He had never forgotten. Darcey exerted a gravitational pull like the moon with the tides, he thought, entrapped yet again.

  “What use would a scream be?” she asked. “I only wanted to put a few presents under the tree.”

  “It couldn’t wait until morning?” he queried with heavy sarcasm.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Besides, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”

  “That’s a joke, right? Darcey, you were born to draw attention to yourself.”

  She might as well have been naked, so acutely did she feel his touch on the flesh of her body. “Hardly my doing. Are you going to let me go?”

  He laughed quietly. “If you know anything at all, you know I love holding you. But don’t worry. That’s the extent of it. A man can become starved for the feel of a woman in his arms.”

  Tremors were passing through her limbs. Tremors he had to be aware of since he was holding her so tightly. “As if you couldn’t find such intimacy tomorrow. You could have your pick of any number of women.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “What is the difference between women? Beautiful women a man can admire or women that can fill a man with a pain-filled desperate longing? I’ve been shocked to find I don’t hanker for any woman at all.”

  “I’m glad!” She couldn’t help her little outburst. She couldn’t bear any other woman to take her place.

  “You would be,” he said, caustically. “As I recall, you wanted me damned.”

  She leaned her upper body forward over his locked arms, to ease the pressure on her heart. “I didn’t. How can you say that?”

  “You said it,” he replied with a voice full of sharp accusation.

  “I didn’t mean to say it. I was half out of my mind.”

  “Indeed you were,” he said, handing down his harsh judgement.

  “You’ll have to find the right woman sooner or later,” she said, bringing herself upright again. “You need an heir. You need a woman for that.”

  “That much is very clear, Darcey darling, only a lot seems to have gone wrong for me. Your fault, of course. I’m not really sure why you came downstairs at this time of night? You must remember I do a lot of prowling about.”

  Her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her own ears. “I promise you, Scott, I never thought for a moment I would meet up with you.”

  “I think you did. Somewhere some part of you did.” Very slowly his hands moved up from her waist to her breasts. She was utterly ensnared. “I think I deserve a little something from you, Darcey.”

  She let him do it. Caress her, her breath coming shorter and shorter. The roughened tips of his long, elegant fingers teased her sensitive nipples, calling up wave after wave of sensation that rolled in like surf. Deliriously erotic.

  He laughed softly, turning her in his arms. “I can almost forget what it was like without you,” he muttered. “It’s perfectly possible to want a woman one no longer loves.”

  She knew there was truth in what he said. “So the plan is to punish me?”

  “You used me, Darcey.” He looked down on her lovely face, her skin spangled by multicoloured lights. “I thought you were the last person on earth to betray me.”

  “It was the last thing I wanted,” she protested in a soft, heartbroken voice.

  “Yet you allowed all the accusations and lies to get a stranglehold on you.”

  It was something she could never deny.

  “What is it you want of me, Scott?”

  “I don’t know yet.” His hands came up to cup her face. She was as beautiful as a
ny woman had ever been or would ever be to him. He lowered his head, pulling her to him with a frustrated oath.

  She swayed violently at the first touch of his mouth on hers while he moved into kissing her as passionately as any woman could hope and pray for.

  Over and over. Just like before, when they had belonged together.

  Her whole body was in a state of surrender, reacting to the barely containable excitement. She remembered all the times she had climaxed with a high-pitched sound he had always muffled gently with kisses. The high keening had been her signal she needed no more to achieve ecstasy. She had already reached the stars.

  The delirium abruptly stopped.

  It was Scott who appeared desperate to break free; Scott who wanted to break the spell.

  “God, what’s the matter with me?” he asked of no one. Roughly he put her from him but continued to hold her by her slender arms. “A few kisses, a few caresses, do they actually mean anything to you, Darcey, beyond a moment’s release?”

  She was shaking like a leaf, unable to speak.

  “You’re a witch,” he pronounced. “Witches can bring everything to life again.”

  Out of nowhere a sense of righteousness came over her. “I’ve suffered too, Scott. Look gently on me. I’m not a witch or a bad woman. I’m just . . . me.”

  “You are indeed,” he agreed, staring down into her delicate finely wrought face. “Now,” his tone sharpened, “time for bed, wouldn’t you say?”

  She was shocked. “I want nothing transient, Scott. I need your respect.”

  “I mean bed alone,” he reproved her coolly, allowing that to sink in. “Come along, Darcey darling. I don’t think you could make it up the staircase on your own.”

  “I’m going to try.” She tightened her robe that had long since swung apart.

  “Remember when I used to carry you up the stairs?” he asked. “Your head resting on my shoulder. It was pretty well madness.”

  “Isn’t that one of the conditions of being passionately in love?”

  “You have the gall to remind me?” he asked angrily.

  Suddenly she was seized by a fierce exhilaration. She took flight, only he went after her, as she hoped he would, catching her up into his arms in unforgettable fashion, making for the grand staircase.

  When they reached the gallery he caught his breath. It wasn’t from exertion, she knew. It was one of those moments in life when things were set to explode. It was all or nothing for Scott. In anyone else it would have been a sigh of regret. Not Scott. He lowered her to the floor, putting a gap between them. “Fools rush in and so on and so forth,” he declaimed in a maddeningly theatrical voice. “Goodnight, Darcey. I’m sorry I can’t tuck you into bed, but sleep well.”

  They were staring at each other like duellists. Certainly not the loving man and wife they had once been.

  “Goodnight, Scott.” She found she was able to match his tone.

  One did what one had to do, she reasoned. Not what one wanted to do.

  Chapter Four

  Scott in his everyday working gear—open necked shirt, jeans, and high boots—was striding briskly towards the front door as Darcey came down the staircase. She had risen early. She needed a head start. There were a few things that remained to be done that morning.

  Scott turned as if he recognized her very footsteps. “Darcey!” he exclaimed, laying a mocking hand to his heart.

  “Bonjour to you too.”

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “Lots to do.”

  “Ah yes! No one better than you at pulling everything together.”

  “Part of my training,” she said, lamenting what once had been and would never be again.

  “Sophie always did give you a free hand.” He touched a finger to his temple as if to remind himself of something. “Since I’m first on the scene I’ll tell you. You’ll be presenting the Melville Cup to the captain of the winning team this afternoon.”

  She couldn’t conceal her agitation. “You can’t be serious?”

  “Guess what? I am. No one but you has ever accused me of not being serious.”

  “But I don’t understand. Surely Sophie or Sam?”

  “No need to fuss. They know all about it. They even approve. It’s to reassure people, Darcey. Don’t you see that? It’s to help make the day a success. No hard feelings and all that. We’ve turned our backs on the past—”

  “This is ridiculous and you know it,” she cut him off sharply. “We’ll convince no one.”

  “No way you can get out of it. It’s all arranged. But lighten up. It could very well be Duncan.”

  “Far more likely it will be you,” she retorted. “I’m not at all comfortable with this, Scott.”

  “Come along now,” he urged. “You’ll be fine. You know the protocol. It’s not as if you haven’t done it before.”

  All of a sudden she was furious. She flew at him, astounding him by hitting him on the chest. “That’s it!” she cried. “I won’t have you using that quiet, patient tone like I’m some dimwit.”

  He caught her hands, circling her narrow wrists. “For God’s sake, Darcey, what on earth are you talking about?” He appeared genuinely puzzled.

  “That was the way you spoke to me, remember? As if I were a dimwit,” she accused him. Her beautiful eyes flashed lightning. Her colour was up.

  “What the hell!” He drew in his breath, aware of the electric buzz that surged and sparked between them. He wanted to pick her up. Carry her away where no one could get to them. Make passionate love to her until she gave herself willingly up to him as she had always done.

  “Poor little Darcey!” she self-mocked. “Poor girl, missing her mother. Never grew up. Not a woman at all. Not much more than a none-too-bright schoolgirl.”

  “That wouldn’t sit well with your IQ, would it?” he countered, continuing to hold her hands.

  “Don’t try humouring me, Scott. That’s over!” she cried explosively, seeing how easy it was for him to subdue her. “You have no idea what you were like. Master of your universe. I wasn’t your bloody subject. I was your wife. I was afraid of you.”

  Shocked, he went pale beneath his dark tan. “You’re talking absolute rubbish.”

  “Men! I hate you.” Darcey was locked into her violent jumble of emotions. “I hate your height and your strength. Your physical superiority.”

  It was far beyond what he ever expected. “Darcey, I would die before I ever laid a finger on you.”

  “I know that!” She momentarily closed her eyes so she could get a grip on herself. “It was my mind. My mind! Do you understand? Why did you have to get so angry with me? Why did you have to talk down to me?”

  Scott’s disbelief was visible in his brilliant blue eyes. His emotions were coalescing into anger and shock. “Darcey, you were accusing me of betraying you with your stupid, bloody, treacherous friend. Did you really expect me to sit still and take it?”

  “Yes!” she replied, knowing how unreasonable that sounded. “Everything we both said was just wrong. We were so upset. The distance between us I found unbearable.”

  “You created it,” he pointed out bluntly. “How could you possibly believe my supposed infidelity was true? Yet you did. You showed you had no respect for me, your husband. I wasn’t the only one to raise my voice, you might remember. I distinctly recall your shouting the place down. Like now. You weren’t the downtrodden little wife you’re trying to make out you were. You gave as good as you got.”

  “Ah, the benefit of hindsight!” she said sadly. “Conclusions based on the facts. Okay, I was my own worst enemy,” she admitted, the air sucked out of her. “I thought you should have been there for me no matter what. You felt the same. I’m sorry, Scott. There, does that please you? I apologize for my shamefully immature behaviour. I broke your heart? You broke mine. A lot of people have to live with broken hearts.”

  “Only we didn’t have to, did we?” he flashed back. “That’s the thing, Darcey. I didn’t break
your heart. You did that all by yourself with the help of your aunt. A woman as dangerous as a taipan. You chose her word over mine. I think I had every right to be appalled.”

  Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might fly like a bird out of her ribcage.

  “I said I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I just felt like a misfit.”

  “Misfit, when we all loved you?” he challenged hotly, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Memory is a very faulty revival system, Darcey. You’ve embroidered what you remembered. The things you actually heard and the things you chose to re-hear in your own mind. Becky—whatever her name was—was and probably still is an out-and-out liar. Where the hell did she get to anyway?”

  “God knows!” Darcey said, feeling utterly exposed. “It couldn’t have been easy to trick Aunt Rachael.”

  “Aunt Rachael!” There was a world of hostility in Scott’s tone. “The sooner you free yourself of that woman, the better. She is not what you think she is. She’s a woman who would have no trouble disseminating false information if it suited her purpose. You think she loved you? You think she loved your mother? You’d better think again.”

  “You honestly think she would destroy my life? You think she wanted to hurt me?” She couldn’t accept it.

  “Too bloody right!” Scott answered, forcefully. “She never wanted us to get married in the first place. Don’t you remember? She couldn’t wait to break us up. And you let her!”

  * * *

  Sophie, looking over the gallery, was astounded to see her son and Darcey facing each other, locked into some furious confrontation. Scott was holding on to Darcey’s hands as though preventing her from lashing out at him. Gentle Darcey?

  “Children, children, is anything wrong?” she called, feeling a sudden moment of panic. She was the one who had brought Darcey here. She was the one who had done everything in her power to engineer a reconciliation.

  Immediately, they both looked up at her. Both wore strained expressions. “Darcey is a bit put out we’ve asked her to present the cup,” Scott said by way of explanation.

  It didn’t stack up. Talk was one thing. Body language was another. Watch and one would learn the truth Sophie had found. “But surely, Darcey, it’s an honour, dear.” Sophie began to move down the stairs.