The Horse Thief

by Téa Cooper

  Stepping closer he returned her smile. Her eyes flickered and darkened. He all but saw the spark of desire jump from his taut body to hers. She shivered and then her shoulders dropped and she took his outstretched hand.

  His fingers tingled. The scent of spring flowers, honeysuckle perhaps, wafted in the gentle breeze. He ran the pad of his thumbs over her palm, delighting in her responsive tremor, then lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against the warm soft skin of her wrist.

  A blush rose, staining her throat and tinting her cheeks. He slid his arm around her waist and drew her to him. Without hesitation she rested against him. He lowered his head, their lips touched and she gave a tiny sigh. The warmth in her eyes answered his unspoken question. It was what she wanted.

  She pressed her body against him, breasts soft against his chest, her hands around his neck. Her mouth tasted of honey and sunshine, the touch of her lips sweet and so full of promise.

  With every movement his blood surged and pounded. He spread his hands down her back feeling the responsive play of her muscles. She gave a delightful shiver as he clasped her closer.

  A picture of her lying in the straw, her beautiful hair fanned out around her face sent a wave of anticipation streaking through him. When her hands reached for his shoulders and she pushed him back he snapped to his senses. How close he’d come to losing control! He gulped back his desire. ‘Forgive me,’ he murmured, tasting the scent of her as he fought for control.

  ‘Why?’ Her breath fanned his skin. ‘I came to apologise to you for Violet’s behaviour and now I have proved myself as wanton as I thought her.’ Her eyes laughed up at him. ‘I think perhaps I was jealous when I saw her in your arms.’

  ‘There’s no reason for you to be jealous, believe me.’ Loath to let her go he cradled her close to his chest. The truth of his words reverberated through him, his honesty startling him. What did the past matter? Without a shadow of doubt his future rested in his arms.

  Her satisfied sigh filled the sunlit stables and Jefferson whinnied in response.

  ‘I think perhaps Jefferson agrees with me.’ Taking her hand he led her to Jefferson’s stall and slid the bolt on the door. ‘Shall we ride?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  He reached for the bridle and slipped it over Jefferson’s ears, warmed by the knowledge she watched his every movement.

  ‘I’ll go and fetch Cirrus.’

  ‘That’s not my plan. Will you ride with me?’ More than anything else he wanted her body against his and this was the perfect way to achieve it.

  She darted a glance over her shoulder, then shrugged, a twinkle of laughter lighting her eyes. Taking her smile as agreement he led Jefferson outside and mounted, then reached down with his hand. As lithe and graceful as the trapeze artists he’d seen at the shows she swung up in front of him. He turned Jefferson to the gate.

  It was the most natural thing in the world to be astride the big bay stallion cradled in Jim’s arms. Jefferson carried them both with ease, his steady gait and flawless motion lulling her.

  They followed the path around the lagoon. The ibis foraging in the shallow waters turned beady eyes on their progress then unconcerned resumed their search for titbits. As they crossed into the bushland Jim pointed to a large goanna sunning itself on the hard-packed dirt. It turned its head and gazed with unblinking eyes, then gave a sideways dart and scuttled up the straight, tall trunk of a spotted gum.

  ‘Shall we go to the river?’ Jim’s warm breath tickled her neck. She turned her head and he brushed back the hair from her face. His fingers wandered light as a feather over her cheek and along her lips. Sighing in pleasure she rested against his chest, frightened that words would break the idyllic peace.

  In the distance the river wound its lazy way through the grassland. The fertile river flats provided more feed than Helligen’s dwindling herds required. As a child she had ridden this path with Papa much as she did today. Safe and secure astride a large bay stallion. The rhythm of the horse, the sun beating down on her cheeks, the warm breeze and the scent of eucalyptus were as familiar as the surrounding landscape.

  ‘Papa,’ she’d said, but he hadn’t replied. ‘Papa?’ His head had moved, leant closer, but not a flicker of attention. His eyes held a faraway look, his mouth pulled down, grim, and a tear tracked his tanned cheek. She’d been too young to recognise a man consumed by grief. ‘It’s too late. I’ve lost everything,’ he’d said.

  She’d had no idea what he’d lost or how, but knew she wanted to help him find it. Before she had the opportunity to respond he’d tightened his arms around her and Goodfellow had flown down this very track to the river.

  ‘Jefferson could be Goodfellow,’ she murmured.

  Jim tightened his arms around her. ‘What about Jefferson?’

  ‘He could be Goodfellow, Papa’s horse. The one in the painting in the library.’

  His body tensed behind her. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘They are so alike. Not just to look at, their gait and conformation are the same.’

  ‘Many stallions have the same characteristics.’ The clipped words made her turn her head. His lips formed a thin line and his gaze darted from her.

  ‘Not when you really know a horse. I rode with Papa, as we are doing now, almost before I could walk. It broke my heart when Goodfellow was shot.’ She swallowed the catch in her breath. Such a long time ago and still it caused her pain. The lump of granite between the fig trees was all that remained of the wonderful horse that symbolised all Papa’s dreams for their future.

  Against her back Jim’s heart thudded, no longer in time with Jefferson’s stride but faster than before. Heat radiated from him making her shirt stick to her back. She arched her back to let the breeze cool the space between them. ‘Shall we walk for a while?’

  Jim pulled on the reins and Jefferson halted.

  The river drew her gaze, the afternoon sun making her thirsty and hot. She remembered paddling her feet in the cool water, chasing the dragonflies as they danced and skimmed across the tranquil surface.

  She slid down and searched the river. ‘There’s an old jetty just down there.’ She pointed out the crumbled timber remains where Papa taught her to fish. ‘We can sit and cool our feet in the water, and I’d like a drink.’

  ‘I expect Jefferson would as well,’ Jim said.

  The lush grass swayed around them as they ambled down to the sleeping river. The warm sun beating down on her back lent an air of indolence and languor to her movements. The crooked jetty reached out into the river and a gentle breeze stirred the surface of the water. Jim dismounted and released Jefferson. He clasped her hand as they strolled through tussocky grass to the riverbank.

  He dropped down off the bank onto the small half-moon patch of sand then stretched up his arms to her. ‘Jump.’ Flecks of sunshine sparkled in his eyes.

  Throwing aside her inhibitions she launched into the air. For a moment she flew, a glorious sense of abandonment. Then his strong hands encircled her waist and he caught her. He spun her once before lowering her to the jetty.

  ‘I’ll pull your boots off.’

  ‘I can do it.’

  ‘I know you can. I want to.’ He settled the sole of her boot against his chest.

  Her gauchos slid up revealing her knee and she clasped the worn felt against her leg. Staring deep into her eyes he ran his hands slowly up the soft leather of her boot until they rested on her bare knee. ‘Stay still.’ His hands ran back down her calf making her muscles tighten. He tugged at her heel until the boot slipped off and he tossed it on the sand.

  The quirk of his lips set her pulse racing and then he offered his hand and asked for her other foot. She held it up and the second boot followed the first, only this time he didn’t release her leg. His hand remained warm and firm around her calf then trailed slowly down to her ankle and cupped her bare foot.

  The jolt to her senses made her gasp and she moistened her lips then wriggled as a flush
of heat blossomed on her cheeks. With a grin he released her foot, tugged his own boots free and pulled his moleskins up above his knees. ‘Come on. You wanted to cool down.’

  She toppled into his outstretched hands and he lowered her into the shallow water. The delicious coolness eased the heat coursing through her body. She bent down, cupped her hands and splashed water all over her face.

  Jefferson found his own way to the river. On the other side of the jetty he snuffled and snorted, sucking up the water.

  ‘He’s always liked water.’ Jim split his attention between the antics of his horse and her burning face.

  ‘I do, too, especially on a day like this.’ A day she would be more than happy to repeat again and again. Jim’s easy company both soothed and excited her. It made the afternoon stretch and instilled a peace and serenity she hadn’t known she craved.

  As if reading her thoughts he slipped his arm across her shoulder and pulled her into the security of his body. She tipped her head back and stared up at him.

  His hazel eyes widened and he lifted his hand. One fingertip traced her mouth. Her lips parted in a gasp. More than anything in the world she wanted him to kiss her again. Digging her toes into the sand she pressed onto tiptoes and dropped a kiss on his lips. The hard muscles under his shirt bunched, holding her firm, drawing her even closer.

  His hand swept around her cheek, trailing tentatively down her neck beneath the collar of her blouse, lower and lower. She clenched her fists tight, squeezing the soft chambray of his shirt against the unaccustomed frisson of pleasure that rose in her.

  His lips moved against hers until her mouth opened and his tongue plunged deep, dancing, tempting and teasing, promising delights she could only imagine.

  When his hands threaded through the tangled mess of her hair and pushed it back from her face a groan escaped her mouth and she arched against him.

  ‘Come with me.’ He covered her fist with his large hand, spreading her fingers wide. With their hands interlocked he led her from the water back to the dry sandy beach.

  Still clasping her hand he pulled her down beside him then raised her fingers to his mouth. His tongue traced a path across the lifeline on her open palm. ‘I wish we had a whole lifetime ahead of us,’ he murmured, raising his head.

  Deep within her, muscles clenched and released, setting up a pulse as ancient as the land, thrumming and throbbing beneath her skin. No stranger to the mating rituals of the farm she knew they’d reached the moment where she must make a decision. Did she want to let it pass? A lifetime of regret yawned in front of her and in a heartbeat she made her decision.

  Placing her hands on his shoulders she eased him from her. His hands fell and a shadow crossed his face, replaced in a second by acceptance. Pinning his gaze she tugged her shirt from her waistband and slid her fingers to the buttons, undoing the first, then the second. His eyes darkened and his tongue snaked across his lips as he sat wide-eyed, stiller than the sandstone rocks lining the riverbank.

  As her fingers slipped from the last button she shrugged her shoulders free, smiling as a low groan escaped Jim’s lips. Her nipples peaked and tingled in response. He stared, admiring her nakedness, then leant across to kiss the skin at the base of her neck. He ran his finger down her cleavage and cupped one upturned breast. Her loud gasp filled the space between them as he bent his head and pressed his warm lips to her nipple.

  Clasping the back of his head she pulled him closer, wriggling in anticipation, wanting more, wanting him.

  He lifted his head; his eyes were closed, his breathing ragged.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered.

  ‘I must.’ Threading his fingers through her hair he pulled her face closer to his and dropped a lingering kiss on her lips. ‘Now. Because if I do not I will ravish you within an inch of your life.’

  A giggle worked its way between her lips. ‘I think I might like that.’

  An apologetic smile broke across his face. ‘And so would I, more than you can imagine, but now isn’t the time or the place.’ He slipped her arms back into the sleeves of her shirt and buttoned it with as much tenderness as he would for a child.

  He laid her down again and stroked her hair back from her face, fanning it out around her head until it mingled with the grass beneath them. ‘I’ve imagined this,’ he whispered, trailing his finger across her flushed cheek. His hazel eyes were clear, his expression sombre. Her heart raced and she ached in places she’d never imagined would crave a man’s touch.

  She raised her hand to his face, wanting his lips on hers again, his warm hands on her skin. She slid her fingers into his thick hair, feeling the contours of his head. Her thumbs circled at the base of his neck and ran up until they met the ridge of a scar. ‘What’s this?’

  He shrugged and trapped her hands, lifting them from his head and clasping them in his.

  ‘Tell me how your family came to be here.’ He released her hands.

  India leant back on her arms, pushing back her desire, disconcerted by his mercurial mood change. ‘Papa and Mama always dreamt of owning a property, somewhere they could call home and put down roots. They acquired Helligen just after I was born.’ Little more than a babe in arms they’d brought her here, to the home Papa had found to nurture and build his family, his empire.

  Jim rolled over onto his back and pillowed his head on his arms. ‘Who did they buy it from?’

  ‘I don’t know. The man who owned it had to sell to cover the debts he’d incurred during the depression in the forties. Papa bought it lock, stock and barrel. Most of the workers stayed on. He’d never owned a property and he needed their expertise. Over the years the property prospered, Violet was born and then my brother, Oliver …’ India stalled; she didn’t want to spoil the pleasure of the afternoon with her sorry family secrets. Letting out a huge sigh she shook her head. ‘It’s a sad tale no-one wants to hear.’ So many hopes, all broken. Shattered dreams, such a series of misadventures. ‘That’s why I am so determined to restore the property. In some way perhaps I can bring back the happiness my parents dreamt of.’

  Jim sat up and dropped his arm across her shoulder, squeezing gently, encouraging her.

  ‘Soon after my brother was born my mother went out riding, against Papa’s wishes. They’d waited for a son for so long. Mama wasn’t young and she’d had a difficult confinement. Goodfellow was Papa’s horse. He was headstrong and skittish. Mama had ridden him a hundred times, but she was weak after months abed. Our stud master saddled him for her. When they found her she’d cracked her head, lost her senses. She has no memory of the accident.’

  ‘The lady in white.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The lady in white. I saw her on my arrival. She was searching for someone. What happened to your brother?’

  Goosebumps flecked India’s arms and she rubbed at them. Mama’s words now made sense. Why hadn’t she realised before? Mama hadn’t seen Goodfellow. She’d seen Jefferson. ‘My brother died.’ Tears scuffed behind her eyes; she couldn’t say more. To talk about Oliver and how he’d died was too painful, too difficult. ‘When my mother recovered her senses her baby had gone. It broke her heart and caused her such melancholy she never recovered.’ Try as she might India couldn’t stop the tears pouring down her face. How she wished she hadn’t left Oliver alone, had picked him up, not tucked him tight and left him. No matter how many times she remembered those awful months, relived the events, the raw pain never diminished. In one fell swoop everything had gone and they’d lived in the shadow of that day ever since.

  India’s agony was palpable. There was no way he could alleviate her pain as much as he wished otherwise; however, the story he’d heard, told by his father, wasn’t the same. His father hadn’t saddled Goodfellow, hadn’t even been in the stables the night Mrs Kilhampton had gone out riding. He’d been asleep by the fire in the cottage. When Kilhampton challenged him there was nothing he could say to convince him of the truth. In his grief Kilhampton had ordered his f
ather and the family off the property and, according to his father, allowed him to take the injured Goodfellow in lieu of his wages. The two stories simply didn’t make sense. Didn’t tally.

  Completely at a loss Jim stared out across the river. He was a fool. In coming to Helligen under false pretences he perpetuated the lies that had destroyed his father. It was time to rectify the situation and discover the truth. ‘Let’s get you home. Today has been a difficult day. Tomorrow we’ll start afresh and restore Helligen.’

  India’s wan smile twisted his heart. ‘I’d like that. If I could make the property prosper, breed a champion, maybe Papa would come home and we would all be happy again.’

  He helped India to her feet and they retraced their steps, Jefferson nudging his back as if prompting him to speak, to tell the truth. Ask the questions. How could he do that without causing India more grief?

  Fifteen

  Peggy’s feather duster flicked across the surfaces in the library like a dragonfly over water. Dust motes danced in a shaft of sunlight, bathing her in a shower of gold so she resembled a fairy godmother bestowing magic.

  ‘There you go, my big boy.’ She flicked an imaginary speck from the portrait over the fireplace. ‘You were one mighty fine horse. Shame, shame.’

  ‘When did you start working here?’ India asked. It was difficult to imagine the place without Peggy as she was the focal point of Helligen; even Violet went to her with her troubles. She filled so many roles: cook, cleaner, nursemaid—even mother. She’d been more of a mother to both her and Violet than poor misguided Mama.

  ‘After the accident, when the Cobb family left. Mrs Cobb was the cook and Mr Cobb ran the horses. Your father was in a right mess when they left and Mrs Bagnell from the village sent me up here and told me to offer my services. Best thing I ever did. Mind you, that was in my younger days. I was a tad more energetic then.’

  ‘But you never married?’

  ‘No, I never married. I had a beau there for a while but he took off to the goldfields full of high hopes and blarney. Said he’d be back when he made his fortune. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since.’