“Grace,” Irene called authoritatively. A sandy-haired, slender young lady dressed in green turned from a group conversation. “Bring Daniel with you and meet my father-in-law.”
Grace, balancing a small, frosted cake on a plate and a cup of tea in one hand, scanned Edward. She had unusual green eyes that tilted at the outside corners. Turning to a young man with the same eyes but redder hair, she indicated with her other hand that she would take his arm. He obliged instantly.
Irene made the introductions. The McLarens discussed the superiority of the weather, the excellence of the entertainment, and the need of the colony to be governed firmly. Edward recognized that, although attractive, the brother and sister would only ever echo the sentiments they heard around them. Neither would say a word out of place but each would appear to be contributing original thoughts.
After Edward and Daniel had discussed the latter’s school days and his membership on the cricket team with Charlton, Miss McLaren asked, “Did you bring your grandson with you?” She discovered an interest in her glove buttons.
“Not this trip,” Edward answered.
“I suppose at this time of the year he would have too much to do at the farm.”
“The station,” Edward contradicted carefully. “A farm is a place of diversities, varied stock perhaps, or stock combined with grain growing. A station has but one main aim—the breeding of sheep or cattle.”
She glanced up at him and fluttered her eyelashes. Her rouged mouth curved. “I think that Charlton explained the same to me. I should remember these things. But Daniel says that ladies have too much to occupy their heads as it is—what with remembering which hat they wore the day before so that they don’t wear the same one two days in a row.” She poked her brother in the shoulder with the handle of her parasol.
“She’s not serious,” her brother said with an indulgent smile. “If I’d ever made such a fatuous comment I would have only been referring to her rather than to ladies in general. I don’t find ladies to be any more empty-headed than males as a rule.”
“But gentlemen don’t like ladies to have a head for business.” The shade of green Miss McLaren wore was similar to her catlike eyes, making her coloring more significant.
Her manner annoyed Edward. “Gentlemen like ladies who like them,” he answered. “But I’m sure most would like the lady of their choice to understand their business, too.”
“And I’m sure most ladies would try as long as the gentlemen didn’t expect them to share those same interests. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Lynton?”
“Henry and I shared common interests. Unfortunately, they weren’t his father’s.” Irene glanced sideways at Edward.
“In which case it was very generous of Mr. Lynton to let you go your own way,” Grace said with an odd flicker of boredom. “As I’m sure he would do with his grandson.”
Edward tensed. He certainly hadn’t allowed his grandson to go his own way, not if he meant to start a business. In the years they’d worked together, he’d seen no sign of flightiness but the lad had never been given his head, a mistake Edward now realized. Until Charlton knew some independence he couldn’t prove himself, and until he returned Edward couldn’t make reparation.
“As for ladies being interested in business,” Daniel said, taking the conversation back to the former subject. “All very well as long as they don’t expect to compete with men.”
Grace laid a hand on her brother’s arm. “And with progressive ideas like that, my dear, you’ll be a great success as soon as you find a job worthy of you.”
“Daniel has some skill in accounting,” Irene contributed almost absentmindedly. Edward wondered if she’d been mentally restocking the buffet plates in the gazebo. “Indeed, his first job out of school was to work in the Bank of Adelaide.”
“They passed me over for promotion.” Daniel raised his chin. “I had no choice but to leave. Since then...” He spread his hands.
“Our father allows us a small income. We manage.” Grace gave yet another pat to her brother’s arm. “If all else fails, I’ll contrive to marry a rich man—you can be sure of that.” She laughed to show she’d been jesting.
“Irene,” said a pleased voice. “It’s too kind of you to invite me here, too kind. And you must give me the recipe for your curried egg. It’s too, too delicious.” A short, round woman about Irene’s age, dressed in dark burgundy with a matching hat, stretched out a hand to Irene. “My, you look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful?” She included Edward and the McLarens with a gentle gesture.
Irene gave an amused smile. “You’re angling for a donation to Saint Matthew’s Orphanage, I suspect, Mildred. This is Edward, my father-in-law, and Grace and Daniel McLaren, whom I think you know. Mrs. Mildred Cameron.”
“Yes, yes, we all know each other,” Mrs. Cameron said, not quite turning her back on Daniel McLaren. “In town for the summer, are you? How too, too lovely. I believe it’s very hot in the country at this time or so my goddaughter Rose writes. And dusty.”
“Oh, and how is dear Rose?” asked Miss McLaren in the tone of someone who hoped for bad news.
“She’ll be back in Adelaide within the next month, I vow. She and her sisters plan to sell their property.”
“And then they will set up in a great mansion of their own.”
Mrs. Cameron’s smile fell. “I suspect they’ll choose something more modest. They’re not expecting to sell for more than a pittance, you know, what with the drought and sheep costing a bare shilling each.”
“A pittance?” Grace said in a surprised voice. “In that case, I have to say I think it’s a blessing she broke off—”
“Enough.” Daniel ran his fingers through his groomed hair, destroying its direction. Without taking leave, he turned and walked off.
Grace stared after him. Her smile retained none of its former glitter. “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“If you can think of a job for him, please do, Edward,” Irene said calmly. “Perhaps he might apply himself in the near future.”
Edward frowned. He had neither the inclination nor the time to aid a young gentleman he barely knew. His own grandson, using none of his connections and no money but that he earned, was managing without handouts.
“And where does your goddaughter have this property?” he asked Mrs. Cameron, who stared in the direction young Daniel had taken with her eyebrows drawn together.
“Rose is just outside Noarlunga. The Beaufort Station. You might have passed it on your journey to Adelaide.”
Edward was even now considering buying the property where he’d seen Girl rushing about. “And she lived in Adelaide for some time?”
“Oh, yes, for the past two years. Perhaps you heard Irene speak of her?”
“The day you arrived, Edward, remember?”
Edward scratched his neck beneath his starched collar. “The young beauty?”
Irene nodded.
So, they were speaking of the female Irene meant to pair with Charlton. The eager young buck had discovered the lady on his own. However, the young beauty was practically penniless. She would like a rich husband every bit as much Miss McLaren would, every bit as much as any female on the marriage market would. Charlton was, no doubt, often sought for his inheritance. Edward rubbed his chin.
The lad wouldn’t tolerate such cupidity. That his grandfather knew. The lad would accept a love match and nothing less. Edward could speculate but he didn’t know Charlton’s feelings about Miss Rose Beaufort. He preferred not to think that Charlton, as a punishment, had decided to stay away from a fuddled old man who loved him.
If the lad wanted the lady, Edward would make sure he got her.
Chapter 13
Ella led her horse through the thick bushland. The animal balked and stalled whenever possible. Ella’s arms ached. She longed to rest but, although uncomfortably sweaty and bone weary, she knew she had to go on. Cal couldn’t afford to waste any shear
ing days and it was late Monday already.
Ahead of her, the strong, tireless Cal strode past a flock of rainbow lorikeets, which barely shifted to let him pass. Wondering what so occupied the birds, Ella dropped her horse’s reins and investigated a scrawny shrub with prickly, arching canes and saw native raspberries. She picked one and popped the small fruit into her mouth. The taste was every bit as delicious as a cultured raspberry.
Glancing ahead at Cal, who appeared to have no interest in resting, she unpacked the billy and emptied her depleted dry goods, which she tucked back into her bedroll. With quick fingers, she raided the raspberry plant, almost filling the container while Girl sniffed at the birds’ leavings. The lorikeets jiggled anxiously. Any other bird would fly off in a panic if a human invaded their territory, but lorikeets, as she’d noticed when they stole her orchard fruit, seemed to realize that if they hopped out of reach they could remain safe from a woman even if she ran at them with murderous intent.
Finishing, she gathered her horse’s reins and hurried to catch up to Cal, who waited for her not far ahead. Girl slumped on the grass.
“We should probably water the horses,” Cal said as she moved abreast. “I can see the river through there. We appear to have walked down the side of a hill.”
“Good. I’ll wash these raspberries and we can eat them. Could we make a small fire for a cup of tea?”
“I don’t want to waste the time. We’ve done well today. The tracks we’re following look fresh.” He pointed to a pile of moist manure. “We can stop tonight for a proper meal if we’ve made up time.” He led the way to the river.
She handed him her horse’s reins and stooped to swish the fruit in the water. Girl found a lizard, which she munched with relish. While the horses drank, Cal filled the water bags. He tethered the horses to a tree and leaned against the sturdy trunk, waiting for her with his ankles crossed.
“Here, have some.” Smiling, she scooped out a handful of dripping fruit. “They’re gorgeous. They taste like real raspberries.”
“They are real raspberries.” Instead of taking the fruit from her, he lowered his head and ate out of her hand. “They’re good.” He stared straight into her eyes and without warning grabbed her into his arms. “And I can’t be, any longer. I’ve thought of nothing but this all day.” His lips took hers in an urgent kiss.
Desperate to hold him closer she circled her arms around his back, sloshing the water from the billy over his shirt. He straightened, ending the kiss, deliberately placing the can onto the ground. “Where were we?” His eyes darkened with desire as her scooped her into his arms again.
He kissed her with a hunger she reciprocated. Her body arched into his. She clung to him, pressing her lips to his, opening her mouth for his hot, demanding tongue. He lifted her, turning her in a half circle so that her back flattened against the tree trunk. Without taking his mouth from hers, he slid a hand into the opening of her blouse, found her breast, and cupped and stroked. His thumb brushed over her nipple, urging a peak, which he teased under his palm until her entire body throbbed.
She had no control over her actions or her sounds. Noises of encouragement and pleasure came from her chest and throat. Her body stretched to fit with his. She rocked her pelvis, wanting the hardness between his legs to fit between hers. The sensation excited her beyond thinking. He dug his fingers into her buttocks, firmly holding her in the position that gave her no relief—only more burning frustration.
Her hands worked his shirt out of his trousers and her palms pressed against the taut, moist skin of his chest and his back. She loved the flex of his muscles as he moved, so strong, so utterly masculine. The tang of eucalyptus, released by the heat of the day, added to the heady atmosphere. Two large magpies flew overhead, their wings loudly scything the air. She so badly wanted Cal that her mind tangled with lust and confusion.
She began to work at his belt, tugging, pulling, not certain if she tightened the buckle or loosened the clasp. His hand covered hers, leaving her breast tingling. He opened his buckle. He lifted her blouse and chemise. They stood, wet mouth to wet mouth, bare chest to bare chest, breathing hard.
Her heart pounded so desperately that she thought she shook the earth with the same rhythm. Again, his hand moved between them as he undid the buttons of his trousers. Her breaths came in gasps. Her coordination left. Mindless urgency overcame her and she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
His lips moved to her hair. “Shh.” He soothed the nape of her neck with his confident touch. His mouth caressed her ear and lipped her lobe. His hand took hers inside his trousers.
Heat. Hardness. A momentary relief as her fingers closed around the part of him that she’d wanted to touch, bare. Her head lifted. She stared into his eyes as her palm pressed against the oiled steel of him. If anyone could look tense, desirous, and resigned at the same time, that was how he looked. And handsome with his disheveled hair falling into his eyes, a slight growth of stubble on his jaw, and his intense gaze fixed with hers.
She wanted to speak but her throat closed. He read her mind. With no difficulty at all, he lifted her skirts and bunched the fabric at her waist. His hands cupped her behind and he tilted her forward. He bent his knees slightly and wedged his part between her legs. She made a sound of surprise.
Although she wanted this, she hadn’t realized how right he would feel. Involuntarily her head arched back. She adjusted him against her and pressed down on him. He left her to do as she wished but in no time she realized that losing her virginity would be more difficult than she imagined.
“I don’t think we are doing this right,” she said in a strangely husky voice. “I think you need to lift me.”
He shook his head. His eyes closed briefly. “If I do, it will all be over in a second. I told you before. I won’t take you, not without marriage.”
“You can’t leave us like this. I’ll die.”
“We’ll give each other pleasure. You remember? I gave you pleasure before, in the woolshed.”
“You gave me frustration and a need to have you.”
He kissed her with tender control. She leaned into him, her hands on his shoulders. His male part stayed excitingly between her legs, caressing her, sliding back and forth. Never in her life had she felt anything as wondrous.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, please, please.”
He scooped her up, resting her knees on his hips. Very gently, very slowly, he let his wonderful hardness part her. She moaned. She couldn’t control this or guide his glide. Only he could. She wanted him deep. He gave no more than a hint of how the married act might feel, a testing barely inside her. So lost was she in the sensation that she didn’t notice for some seconds that the muscles in his shoulders quivered and that he had tensed harder than the tree trunk her spine scraped against.
She wanted him to give in and take her. She’d never wanted anything more in her life. The right word or the right movement might force him, but instead she splayed her hands across his jaw and kissed him. She didn’t want to force him into anything. She wanted him to want her so much that he couldn’t help himself.
He straightened. His responding kiss seemed to show ownership. He kissed her as if he knew the very shape of her lips and how she would move them. She relaxed, concentrating more on how she felt about him than what she wanted. Her chest expanded with love for him. As she expressed her emotion with her mouth, his male part pushed deep inside her.
Pain shot through her pelvis. Her knees dug into his hips, she tensed, and an involuntary sound of hurt burst through her throat. Carefully he withdrew. His eyes had closed. He opened them. His hands shook as he set her back on her feet. He didn’t speak. She could see reproach and a tinge of disgust on his face. Not one minute did she assume he was disgusted with her. He was annoyed with himself.
“It was my fault,” she said, eyes downcast, letting her skirts drop. “Don’t be cross with yourself.”
“Damnation!�
� He turned his back.
“No harm done.”
“Don’t fool yourself. We did exactly the harm I didn’t mean to do. But then again, maybe I did, maybe I did.” He smoothed her hair back from her face and gazed into her eyes. “You shouldn’t be out here with me for exactly this reason. And you know this as well as I do.” He stared at her long enough to read her innermost thoughts, which unfortunately happened to be far from pure. She still hurt a little, but passion blazed within her, for him, only him.
Finally he buttoned his pants and shirt and flicked his hair back from his face. He collected his horse and led the way again. She didn’t feel disdained or discarded. Perhaps she couldn’t state her terms or decide on the time and place, but he would teach her something far more important than how to mend a fence.
He would teach her about his body and hers.
* * * *
Glancing to the left, Cal saw the next of Jed’s signs, a twisted branch pointing ahead. For some time, he’d not needed Jed’s help. The tracks he followed couldn’t be more than two hours old. The last patch of horse droppings had still been warm. He kept going until the daylight left a mere gray gleam through the trees. He wanted the horses back tonight. He planned to take them and leave in the dark with Ella and without confrontation. Her safety should not be risked.
He’d felt the ache of hunger until dusk. Not for food. For Ella. He couldn’t credit he’d broken through her hymen. Walking couldn’t wear down his need. Thinking of their next meal couldn’t wear down his need. Only she could.
However, if he had her, he wouldn’t be satisfied. He would want her again and again. He wouldn’t be able to go on his way—earning enough money to staff and outfit the warehouse, which must be done even more urgently now that he meant to wed this woman who could only marry a man with money.
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