The Cattle Baron's Bride

by Margaret Way

  "Daniel's not going away in a hurry," Ross said briskly, referring to Moondai's highly rated overseer, Daniel Carson, Kingston's former right hand man and not yet thirty. "He'll hold the fort until a good professional manager can be found. That's if Daniel doesn't want to stay on."

  Isabelle nodded agreement. "I remember Alexandra as a little girl," she said with warmth. "She was a great little rider, won quite a few prizes, something of a tomboy, her father adored her."

  The subject of the Kingstons was gradually dropped; another picked up. Ross launched into a story about the "man with the Midas touch," another rich Territory tycoon called Moreland. Samantha was reminded how the Outback seemed to breed men that were larger than life. Small wonder she thought. Such men were the descendants of the early pioneers and settlers; men who had overcome every obstacle the vast, dangerous, inspiring and heartbreaking Territory, the last frontier, could throw at them. Against all the odds they had not only survived but gone on to found dynasties.

  She rested her head back, conscious nostalgia mixed with a strange exhaustion was working its way through her veins like a drug. She knew Ross was deliberately maintaining a front, but that wondrous tangible connection that had been

  between them appeared to have been broken. David and Isabelle on the other hand radiated a togetherness that was quite striking. They didn't have to tell her they were in love. That was as plain to see as the moon that sailed above them. She couldn't really see how Isabelle had fallen deeply in love so soon after the death of her husband. Obviously it wasn't something Isabelle had wanted. As had happened in her own case both of them appeared to have surrendered to a kind of biological demand. Nevertheless she was very happy for Isabelle and her much loved brother. They seemed to have been made for each other. As for her and Ross? She had chosen a far stormier path.

  David's voice drew her out of her reverie.

  " ... well we can pursue the possibilities," she heard him say. "What do you think, Sam?"

  "I'm sorry." She had to clear her throat. "I must have drifted off. What was it you were saying?"

  "It doesn't matter, pet," David said kindly.

  She touched her hand to her temple. "I have a slight headache. It's the heat."

  "We're due for a storm," Isabelle predicted. Certainly it was on the air. Already clouds were ringing the moon.

  "If it's okay with you all, I think I'll have an early night." She was apologetic.

  Ross glanced over at her. "Why don't we go for a walk?" he suggested. "The night air might shift it. It's much too early to turn in." His glance cut sideways to David, certain David wanted desperately to be alone with Isabelle.

  "Okay," she answered gracefully, determined not to run away from him.

  Ross put out his hand. She let him take it. No way was she going to allow him to upset her. She had to speak to him. Draw him out into the open. Only then would she know what she had to do.

  No sooner were they on the path than he let go of her hand.

  "What's wrong between us, Ross?" She plunged right in. "Clearly something is."

  "Well if that doesn't take the prize," he groaned, his vibrant voice was strained. "Howarth bloody near raped you and I'm supposed not only to let him get away with it but forget about it?" Couldn't she understand how a man felt when his woman was attacked? It had torn the heart out of him and caused such a harsh reaction. But that was him. His love for her had drawn him in too deep.

  "I have to," Samantha protested. "So how is it my fault?"

  "I never said it was your fault," he answered curtly, his nostrils flaring. Inside he was lit up with an enormous rage, powerless and frustrated that he wasn't able to make Howarth pay for attempting a crime he could have got away with. He was angry with Samantha too for giving him the greatest fright of his life. She had only stayed with Howarth to pique him never dreaming Howarth would try to hurt her. He had to shut out that dreadful scene as he had imagined it, before it drove him mad.

  "Well you've retreated from me, haven't you?" Samantha was saying. "You've gone away. Do you do this often? Get a woman to fall headlong in love with you. Fall in love yourself but can't sustain it."

  "Stop talking nonsense," he said bluntly, feeling absolutely hellish.

  "I'm talking commitments, Ross," she retorted, flaring up. Both of them were incredibly on edge. "That's not nonsense. I thought what we had was real. Very serious."

  He stopped in the middle of the path, his lean muscular body in silhouette against the moonlight. "When the woman you love is attacked by another man it cuts into the deepest most primitive part of you. Surely you can understand that?"

  She stared up at him, aware of his tormented expression. "I do. I do, Ross. It was terrible what happened but it could have been so much worse."

  "Isn't that what I'm saying," he retorted bleakly and continued walking.. "You never have said just how far he got?"

  What had been hazy was now clear. "Ah, Ross, are you doubting my word?"

  He was wracked with powerful emotions. "I just don't think I could live with it."

  Hot tears sprang into her eyes. "Would I have lost my value?" Her tone spoke volumes. "I'm sullied. I'm spoiled? Is that it?"

  "You don't know what you're saying, or I'm not communicating what I feel," he gritted, feeling like he was shut in a cage and couldn't get out. "I can't come to terms with Howarth getting away with it. The punishment should match the crime. Or the attempted crime. He was on the brink of it when presumably you hit him?"

  "I had no option, Ross," she said. "You got a few punches in, I believe." David had told her.

  "So I did. Do you blame me? The sick bastard had absolutely no remorse. It was as though he had a right to do what he did. I know a guy who suffers from bipolar disorder. A nice guy. A hard worker. No way would he act like that. Howarth is plain crazy."

  "So what did you want to do, kill him?" she asked raggedly, her emotions getting the better of her.

  His face hardened. He turned away from her. "Very much so, except I'd have to come down to the level of the beast. Sometimes it's hard fitting into the dictates of civilised society, Samantha."

  Her heart ached so much she felt like weeping. They were drifting so far apart. "I'm so sorry, Ross."

  He let out a frustrated breath. "Your being sorry makes no sense. You were the victim."

  A breeze loaded with ozone floated around their heated bodies, but it didn't damp down the fierce emotions. "He got no further than some awful slobbering kisses and he touched my breasts," she confessed, painfully, aware he was desperate to know the extent of the attack. "I had to act passive. I had to let him until I found some kind of weapon. Even though he was trying to do the unthinkable I didn't want to kill him. I wanted to disable him so I could get away."

  "You were very brave." She had earned his respect. But he was still angry with her as though she had failed some test. What was the matter with him, for Chrissake! She was the innocent victim. There were always men like Howarth. He was sickened and horrified even when he wanted to treat her so tenderly. He could see the glint of her tears.

  Love was terrible.

  He couldn't think of a life without her. Yet his anger was driving her away when he should have been embracing her. He had to be insane.

  "I wasn't brave." Samantha shook her head in denial. "I was charged with adrenaline. I don't like being the powerless female."

  "I think we can now all safely say you're not." He sighed deeply in the darkness. "You're telling me the truth about this? All of it?"

  She waited a moment to compose herself, a dismal melancholy well and truly descended upon her. "I'd be a truly remarkable woman had I been damaged further and was still able to function the way I have since. My whole heart goes out to rape victims. It's an unspeakable ordeal. The fallout goes way beyond a violated body right to a woman's soul."

  He groaned in empathy. "Which was precisely why I felt like killing Howarth. His lack of remorse was the most unforgivable part. I can't help won
dering if you should have pressed charges?"

  Warily she looked at him. "Would you have wanted that?"

  "I would have stood by your decision," he said firmly. "It's like I've said. These sort of crimesintended crimes in his case-shouldn't go unpunished."

  "Ross, I had to make the decision I thought in the best interests of us all. I wanted to avoid the notoriety." Her voice cracked. "Besides, the deciding factor was, I got away."

  He laughed angrily, frustration a knife in his guts. He knew it had been a bad, bad idea to leave her. "What a miracle that was. Not only did you get away from Howarth who in his manic state was hard enough for David and me to control. You found your way through the jungle. I mean you know nothing about the bush. Inexperienced stock men sometimes get lost."

  "My Grandad showed me the way," she said, praying he wouldn't reject such a notion scornfully. "Grandad was always there for me when my dad wasn't. Grandad was talking to me the whole time."

  "Samantha!"

  The sudden solicitude in his voice brought the tears to her eyes. He wasn't openly sceptical. He merely sounded ...indulgent. "He really did," she said. "Grandad reaffirmed what I believe. Death isn't the end for us. We move on to a different dimension. I wasn't hysterical. I realise you might think that. I was sick and shaken but I had my goal firmly in mind. I did what Grandad told me. I made it back to the boat."

  He let out a long suffering sigh. He had relived her flight through the jungle many times. Marvelled she had found her way out. It looked as though she had had help. "Well incredible as it may seem we have your Grandad to thank for that."

  "You don't believe it?"

  He gave the ghost of a smile. "Maybe. What's important is you do." He put out his hand in reconciliation but for some reason she couldn't begin to explain to herself Samantha went into retreat. She jerked back, too close to disintegrating. "The old servants' entrance is over there, Ross," she said, turning her head. "I really do have a headache. I'm going to bed."

  David and Isabelle lingered on the terrace, in their armchairs, each basking in the glow of happiness the other gave them. Isabelle for her part felt like she was emerging like a butterfly all velvety and new from her spent cocoon.

  "Ross is pretty upset," David remarked eventually. "The whole incident with Howarth shocked him to the core. Not that anyone could blame him. A man would do anything to protect and defend the women he loves."

  She fixed her eyes on the arching sprays of some flowering orchids. How beautiful they were. How serene. "Not all men are like that," she said. Don't panic. There's absolutely nothing to panic about. This is David.

  He wouldn't be judgmental.

  Her tone was so serious he seized on it. "You've known someone like that?" He turned his chair slightly, so he could face her directly.

  She was done with pretence. This was the man she loved. She had to be entirely honest with him. "I was married to one," she told him as quietly as if she were talking to herself.

  "Isabelle!" He reached out and took her hands. "What are you saying?"

  She gave a sad smile, staring down at their locked hands. "Nothing thousands, maybe millions of women couldn't say. I was in an abusive marriage, David. That's why I went to pieces when I saw what Howarth had done to Sam."

  "My God!" His expression turned stony. No wonder Ross had been boiling with rage. All set to pummel Howarth into the ground when he had urged some restraint. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

  "I have to."

  "Come here to me." He saw the stricken look on her face. He stood; gathered her up like a defenceless small girl and carried her back to the huge bucket chair where he could cradle her.

  She placed her head in the hollow of his chest, drawing heavily on the comfort he gave her. "I've never been able to tell anyone else-not my dear father nor my brother. I was too ashamed. Too worried what they might do. You see how Ross has reacted to Samantha's trauma. He's traumatised himself. I trust you, David."

  "You're right to," he said, kissing her hair. He was enormously grateful she had decided to liberate herself from her dark secret. And with him.

  "In a way you've healed me." She curled into him like a long lost rescued child. "I know I don't look like a woman who would tolerate physical and mental abuse but I'm ashamed to say I was. At least for some time. It didn't start until six or seven months into our marriage then everything started to go wrong. No one could have been more jealous or possessive than Blair. We were out practically every night of the week. He acted like he adored me, but I couldn't do a thing right. The abuse started the moment we set foot inside our door. The first time he hit me I was shocked out of my mind. I couldn't believe it. I was married to a batterer. Who could believe it? He'd been so charming, so loving and considerate throughout our courtship. He didn't look like a man who could abuse his wife. Most people thought I was extremely lucky to have married him."

  "My God!" David had heard all those stories. Had even given them credence.

  "Afterwards-after these episodes-he appeared to be genuinely sick with shame. He showered me with presents. Promised he'd never do it again. Of course he did. Gradually I began to hit back. It was all so degrading."

  "My poor Isabelle!" he groaned, feeling shame for his own sex. Men were the aggressors. It was a miracle she hadn't wound up dead. And to think Hartmann had fooled everyone with the Mr. Nice Guy persona. There was a parallel with Matt. Some men really did lead double lives.

  Isabelle lay against David's powerful muscular chest, hearing the rhythmic thud of his heart. "He told me if I tried to leave him he would kill me."

  "What miserable cowards these men are!" He released a long breath. "Isabelle, you really should have told someone. Your father or after he was gone, Ross."

  "I'm never going to tell Ross," she shuddered. "He wouldn't believe I couldn't turn to him for help. Think how upset he is about Sam. I was too proud, David. Too unwilling to admit I'd made a terrible mistake. Another thing, I'm not going to burden Ross with what happened to me. I love him too much. But I can't pretend with you." Her voice trembled with emotion.

  "Because I'm going to be your lover, your husband?" he said with a sense of the inevitability of it all. This woman was infinitely precious.

  "Do you want to be?" She couldn't look at him. She had to feel his response.

  "Want to be?" he echoed, the longing he felt for her welling up. "I've waited this long. Not a second more. Kiss me, Isabelle," he said, masterfully. He lowered his head, his blood glittering there was so much passion, unerringly finding her lovely upturned mouth.

  Desire took his breath away. Desire mixed with a kind of agony. How much horror had she endured, this exquisite creature? The reason why she had dissolved into heart breaking sobs on the boat was fully explained.

  Nothing remotely like this had ever happened to Isabelle before. The boldness, the sweetness, the flavour of real passion. She had grown used to Blair calling her frigid. Kissing had never been like this with Blair, even at the best of times before they were married. Even the early on sex didn't come near it. This was sensual bliss, for the moment all-consuming.

  They held each other as if drowning in a sea of rapture, each unable to get enough of the other. Kisses without pause. Sublime kisses when two lovers passed into a brand new world of their own.

  "Will you?" David's strong hand trembled over the curve of her breast. "Will you marry me? I know it's not long since... since." He found himself unable to speak Hartmann's name he felt such repugnance. "You deserve happiness, Isabelle. No waiting. No fake mourning period. You escaped. You deserve the right man to love you. I swear I'll spend my whole life making it up to you. I love you, Isabelle. Something momentous happened to me the moment I laid eyes on you."

  "And me." She placed her hand along his cheek, close to weeping with joy.

  "You'll come to Indonesia with me?" he urged, looking into her beautiful eyes.

  "I'll come to the ends of the world with you," she said simply.

&n
bsp; "My love," he answered, profoundly moved. "Stay with me tonight," she begged, taking a few shallow breaths just to calm herself.

  "Is it what you truly want? You're not saying it to please me?"

  "To please me." She gave a broken laugh and spread her fingers lovingly along his strong jawline. Her David. Her lion. "I love you, David," she said, speaking with her whole heart.