The Virgin Bride (The Australians)

by Miranda Lee

  Her eyes flew to Jason’s, pained and reproachful. Groaning, he did his best to adopt an aggrieved expression, but he had a feeling he just looked furious.

  ‘I didn’t tell you this earlier, Emma,’ Ratchitt was saying, ‘but after you went away on your honeymoon I went to Sydney to check up on this man you married. I was worried about you. What did you know of him, really? I found this colleague of his, who turned out to be his old girlfriend, and what she told me about him made my hair curl. The man’s a cold-blooded, mercenary monster. Money is his god, Emma. He’d do anything for it. Say anything. Marry anyone. On top of that he’s violent, as you can see. I still love you, Emma, despite everything. But he doesn’t. He’ll hurt you, Emma. Let me move in here to protect you from him. Let me look after you and love you as you deserve to be loved.’

  ‘No!’ Jason cried.

  ‘It’s not up to you, Steel,’ Ratchitt snapped.

  Jason looked straight at Emma with an imploring gaze. ‘Please, Emma, I beg of you. You don’t have to come back to me yet, if you don’t want to, but don’t let him into your life, not for a moment.’

  ‘How…how did you know about the trust fund?’ she choked out.

  Jason grimaced. ‘I didn’t. Not till Ratchitt told me tonight.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Dean sneered. ‘As if I’d do that if I did know.’

  ‘You knew all right,’ Jason said with sudden inspiration. ‘Your friend Sheryl told you. She works for your aunt’s solicitor, Emma, and lives next door. Doc told me she and Dean were lovers once. She’s still crazy about him and would tell him anything he wanted to know. She must have told him you were here, and not up at my house. Why else did he come here tonight, instead of the surgery? Someone had to tell him. I certainly didn’t. Did you?’

  ‘N…no.’

  ‘Then ask him. Ask him why he came here.’

  ‘Dean?’

  ‘He’s grabbing at straws, Emma. Sheryl didn’t tell me anything of the kind. He did. That’s why he came looking for me out at the farm. Because you’d left him and he was worried stiff you’d find out he never loved you.’

  ‘Jason never promised to love me,’ she said in a puzzled voice.

  ‘And neither will he,’ Ratchitt insisted. ‘Ever!’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Jason denied with an anguished groan. ‘Not true,’ he repeated, his shoulders sagging as his heart began to despair. ‘I do love you, Emma. I love you with all my heart. I didn’t marry you for any money. I knew nothing of any trust fund till I heard about it from Ratchitt tonight. He thinks all men are tarred with the same brush. He couldn’t seem to imagine my actually loving you. Yet I cannot imagine not loving you. I certainly can’t imagine my life without you.’

  Jason knew he wasn’t being very impressive with his declaration of love. His voice sounded tired and defeated, probably because of the look on her face. The shock and the patent disbelief. He was wasting his breath. Totally wasting his breath.

  ‘I can’t make you love me back,’ he continued, driven on by desperation, not any real hope. ‘I can’t make you come home with me. I can’t make you stay away from this…creature. All I can do is appeal to your common sense. I know you have heaps. Think, Emma. Think and judge. A man is known by his actions, not his words. Would I have acted as I have acted this past few weeks if I hadn’t been sick with a very real jealousy? And would Ratchitt have acted as he has acted this past year if he really loved you?’

  She didn’t say a word, just kept staring at him.

  He sighed. ‘That’s all I have to say. That’s all there is to say. I’m going home now. I’ll wait for you till morning. If you don’t come, I won’t be staying in Tindley. I couldn’t bear it. You can have a divorce. You can have him, if he’s what you really want. I won’t stand in your way. But God have pity on your soul if that’s the way you choose, Emma, because he’ll destroy you.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Emma. He’s the one who’ll destroy you. He’s evil. And clever. Far cleverer than me. I don’t have his power with words. Or his fancy education. I only have what’s in my heart. Feel this heart, Emma,’ Dean Ratchitt said, taking her hand and placing it on his chest. ‘It’s beating for you. I know I hurt you a year ago. I was wrong. All I can say is that I was lonely for you, and that girl threw herself at me. But that wasn’t love, Emma. That was just sex. Surely you can see what I mean now. You’ve been to bed with this man. You’ve had sex with him. But that’s not making love. That doesn’t come from the heart. When we’re finally together, that will be making love. It’ll be incredible, princess. I promise you…’

  She was staring up into those penetrating black eyes of his as though hypnotised, seemingly unable to break away from the sexual spell his words and his presence were casting over her body. Jason could not bear to watch it any more. His heart was breaking.

  He turned and walked through the back door, stumbling a little on the steps. Somehow, he made it back up the street and into the surgery.

  Doc had left, thank God. He would not have wanted another man to see the tears streaming down his face. He made it into the living room, where he slumped into the big armchair to the right of the empty hearth. He didn’t turn on the reading lamp next to it, just sat there in the semi-darkness staring into nothingness, the tears slowly drying on his face as the minutes ticked away. For a while his ear strained to catch the sound of Emma’s steps on the front porch, his heart aching with one last, final, futile hope.

  How could she not see the truth? How could she be taken in by that creep?

  Easily, Jason finally accepted. As easily as he had been taken in by Adele all those years. Both of them had outer physical attractions which could mask the ugly person inside. Both were clever and cunning. Both dared to do what decent people would not even dream of doing. They conned and corrupted. They seduced and schemed.

  Jason’s thoughts finally turned to Emma, and he knew he shouldn’t sit by and let Ratchitt taint such a beautiful person. But what could he do, short of killing the bloke?

  Nothing, really. In days gone by he could have kidnapped her and carried her off to some faraway land, but not nowadays. Nowadays, that would land him in jail. But wouldn’t jail be preferable to this agony of doing nothing to save her from a fate worse than death?

  He was still sitting there, mentally tossing up between murder and kidnapping, when he heard the sound of the front door opening.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JASON’S hands balled into fists on the armrests of the chair. He dared not get his hopes up. What if he was wrong? What if she’d just come home to get some clothes? What if it wasn’t Emma at all?

  He sat there like a block of stone, petrified.

  ‘Jason?’ Emma called softly. ‘Where are you?’

  He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

  He listened to her walk up the stairs and call out to him there listened as she walked slowly back down. ‘Jason, where are you?’ she cried again at the bottom of the stairs, sounding almost despairing.

  ‘I’m in here,’ he said at last, but his voice sounded odd. Empty and hollow.

  She switched on the light, then just stood there in the doorway, looking over at him. He didn’t know what he looked like, but it must have been pretty terrible by the expression on her face.

  ‘Oh, Jason,’ she groaned, and ran over to squat down by the chair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she cried, her green eyes filling while his remained strangely dry and distant. ‘So very sorry…’

  Jason’s chest was aching. She was sorry. Sorry about what? Sorry she was leaving him?

  That had to be it. She’d taken too long to come home for the outcome to be otherwise. It was agony thinking of what she and Ratchitt had been doing during that time.

  ‘Just get whatever it is you’ve come for,’ he said flatly. ‘And go.’ He no longer had any stomach for his earlier violent solutions. If she was fool enough to want Ratchitt, then let her be destroyed. Why not? He was.

  ‘But I
’ve come home, Jason,’ she said. ‘I chose you.’ And, reaching out, she touched him on the arm, right where the dog had bitten him.

  He wrenched his arm away, his moan a mixture of emotional and physical pain.

  ‘What is it?’ she said, her eyes instantly stricken. ‘What’s wrong with your arm? Show me!’ Already she was undoing his cuff and gently peeling back the sleeve. Her gasp was horrified. Jason looked down at it closely for the first time himself.

  It did look pretty nasty, despite Doc’s expert handiwork. Much worse than Ratchitt’s face. He would carry scars for the rest of his life.

  ‘Oh, Jason…’

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ he said sharply.

  Their eyes met, but he still could not quite believe what she’d said. ‘You meant it?’ he rasped. ‘About coming home? About choosing me?’

  She nodded, and two big tears trickled down her face.

  ‘What about Ratchitt?’

  ‘I sent him away.’

  ‘You sent him away,’ he repeated dazedly.

  ‘I don’t love him any more, Jason. I don’t even want him any more.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘No. I’m sure of that, Jason. Quite sure.’

  He couldn’t say anything to that, his heart too awash with emotion.

  ‘You…didn’t just say that about loving me, did you?’ she asked. ‘You did mean it, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ That was all he could manage. Just yes. His relief was too intense, his exhaustion total.

  She nodded. ‘I didn’t think you would lie about something like that. Not you.’ And, taking the hand of his good arm, she began tugging him to his feet.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he choked out.

  ‘I’m taking my husband upstairs to bed. He looks tired.’

  ‘Tired’ did not begin to describe the state he was in.

  He let her lead him upstairs, let her sit him down on the side of the bed while she knelt down at his feet and began taking off his shoes and socks.

  He wanted to ask her what had happened with Ratchitt after he left. He wanted to ask her about the trust fund. But he didn’t have the energy. Or the will. Instead, he watched her tend to him with a sweet gentleness which threatened to embarrass him for ever in front of her. Only with the greatest force of will did he keep his own tears at bay.

  At last he was naked, and being tipped back under cool sheets. ‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked. ‘A glass of water? Some painkillers?’

  ‘Painkillers would be good. There are some extra strong ones lying on my desk in the surgery. Just bring me the packet.’

  He closed his eyes after she left the room and began counting to ten. If he got to ten without crying, he thought, everything would be all right.

  He didn’t cry. But he didn’t get to ten, either. Something very strange happened to him around eight. He fell asleep.

  Jason woke to the feel of Emma’s arm sliding around his waist, plus the tips of her breasts pressing into his back. For a moment, everything inside him leapt, till her deep even breathing told him she was actually asleep. Understandable, he accepted, after a quick glance at the bedside clock.

  It was five past two.

  For a long while, he lay there in the dark, mulling over everything that had happened the night before, still stunned by the outcome. Emma had chosen him, not Ratchitt. She didn’t love Ratchitt any more.

  It was almost too good to be true. What had changed her mind about Ratchitt? What had happened after he’d left them alone together?

  Her apology when she’d first come home took on a sinister meaning. What had she been saying sorry for? Had she let Ratchitt make love to her, only to find out her fantasies about him had been just that—fantasies?

  Something must have happened during the time which had elapsed. He couldn’t see Ratchitt wasting time just talking to Emma. That was not his style.

  But being unfaithful wasn’t Emma’s style, either. He knew that, down deep in his heart. No, something else had happened to make her see the light.

  And the light was what? He was a better bet for the future than Ratchitt? Jason dared not hope she’d suddenly discovered she loved him. That was the hope of fools. More likely she’d chosen the lesser of two evils.

  He still felt terrible about the way he’d acted since they’d arrived home in Tindley. He could not blame her for leaving him. He’d treated her without consideration and without respect. Without love.

  Emma stirred against his back, snuggling in closer, murmuring his name in her sleep. When she lifted her leg to hook it over his, Jason was taken aback to discover she was totally naked. She hadn’t come to bed like that since their honeymoon, he recalled.

  Back then, he’d rolled over many times during the night to make love to her. And it had been so wonderful. At least in bed he could make her happy.

  He went to roll over right then and there…till the pain in his arm momentarily stopped him.

  But only momentarily. It seemed an aching arm was no deterrent to the waves of desire which began flooding through him. Jason suspected his arm could be falling off and nothing would stop him wanting to make love to her.

  Slowly, carefully, he rolled over. Instinctively, she rolled too. Yet she was still asleep. Jason curved himself around her, keeping his damaged arm out of harm’s way. He slid his other arm under her, tipping her slightly backwards against his chest, bringing her breasts within easy reach.

  She woke slowly, voluptuously, arching her back into his hands, showing him with her body language that she liked what he was doing. More than liked it. Her arms lifted above her head to find and wind around his neck, leaving both her breasts, and the entire front of her body, unhindered for his pleasure. Her right knee lifted up onto his right thigh, opening and offering herself for whatever he might want.

  Her attitude of total sexual surrender sent his desire for her off the Richter scale. Not to mention his love. Even if she didn’t love him back, she’d chosen him. And she wanted him, wanted him more than a man she’d claimed she would always love and never forget. Surely that must mean it was only a matter of time before she was his, totally. His heart swelled with passionate determination. He would make love to her with every ounce of skill he had, showing her that, despite his own runaway passion, her pleasure would be his first priority from now on. He wanted to wipe away the memory of the past couple of weeks when he’d been so abominable to her.

  Carefully, he eased himself inside her, his hands splaying across her stomach to keep her still against him. But her insides weren’t still, and for a panic-stricken moment he feared disaster. Hell, he was drowning in her heat, being seduced by her pulsating muscles. The pleasure was dizzying, and potentially destructive.

  No way could he last.

  But he was going to, no matter what!

  ‘Emma, be still,’ he warned her sharply, when she began squeezing and releasing him between frantic little wriggles of her bottom.

  ‘I can’t,’ she gasped, and came with an intensity which threatened his resolve to give her the experience of a lifetime. It took every ounce of his will not to let everything come to a swift and premature end right then and there.

  Gradually, her spasms died away, and he set to making love to her seriously, with a steady rhythm, using his hands to re-arouse her. Her second climax was gentler on him, but no less difficult to ignore. He ploughed on, taking her on to the highest of pleasure zones, where her whole body was so sensitised that the slightest touch of his knowing fingertip had her quivering with delight. Only when he knew he could not last another moment did he take her with him to a third full-blown orgasm.

  ‘Oh, Jason,’ she cried afterwards as he cradled her to him, her body still trembling. ‘Jason…’

  ‘Hush, my darling,’ he murmured as he rocked her gently to and fro. ‘Relax… Go to sleep…’

  ‘I can’t. I… I…’

  ‘Shh. Don’t talk. Just take deep breaths, then let go all your muscles.’r />
  She did as he suggested, scooping in then letting out several huge, shuddering sighs. Her arms and legs finally went very limp.

  ‘Sleepy,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, stroking her hair.

  Once she was unconscious, Jason eased himself from her. Rolling over, he reached for the painkillers she’d left on the bedside chest and which he hadn’t taken earlier. He took three. Hell, he needed them. His arm felt as if a mad dog had mauled it, and the rest of him wasn’t much better.

  But he was content. More content than he’d ever been in all his life. She might not love him yet, but she would…in time. Ratchitt was history.

  Carefully, he rolled back over onto his side and curved his aching arm around the sleeping form beside him.

  She didn’t stir an inch. Thank God.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JASON woke to the dawn…and more pain. His arm felt as if it had been put through a shredder. His head was aching, as was his whole body.

  A sidewards glance showed a curled up Emma, sleeping like a baby.

  ‘It’s all your fault,’ he muttered under his breath, but with a wry smile forming. ‘You’ve totally wrecked me.’

  The wreck struggled out from under the covers and staggered downstairs to the surgery, where he dressed the wound, gave himself another shot of antibiotics and swallowed some bigger pain-killing bombs. Only his nudity prevented Jason from wandering out onto the front porch and watching the sun rise. He didn’t want to scandalise the people of Tindley any more than he’d already scandalised them. No doubt the news of the night before would be doing the rounds of the town with a speed and inaccuracy which would rival Peyton Place.

  Oh, well. At least everything had come out all right. In a fashion. Emma was back home in his bed and Ratchitt was…gone, he hoped. Permanently.

  Jason levered himself back upstairs, where he literally ran into Emma, hurrying through their bedroom door in her birthday suit.