Mystic Mountains

by Tricia McGill

  Isabella was the type of woman who would expect love and devotion from the man she wed; a marriage of convenience would not suit her. Dougal was the one for her. The man worshipped her, could make her happy.

  With that thought in mind Tiger glanced down once more at the enticing woman on the bed amid the tousled sheets, picked up his boots and the rest of his clothing, and crept out, feeling a bit like a thief in the night. Which, when all was said and done, he was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Isabella stretched her arms above her head and pointed her toes to the end of the bed. Still in a delicious dreamy state she smiled, feeling warm and delightfully soft. Her hands came down and ran over her ribs, then her belly. With a small start of surprise her eyes shot open. She was naked.

  A blush crept up from her toes right to her scalp as she recalled the wanton way she'd behaved in Tiger's arms. Reaching out she slid her palm over the empty place by her side. It didn't shock her that he'd gone. It was just like Tiger to worry about her reputation. He wouldn't want Thelma, Gillie, or especially Dougal to know what had happened last night. Pressing her face into the pillow she breathed in, smiling like a kitten that'd just lapped up a saucer of cream. Tiger's scent still clung to the linen.

  She couldn't wait to see him; to find out if he was as happy as she was. Of course they would get married soon. He hadn't mentioned it, but Isabella knew he would ask her now. If he hadn't wanted to wed her he wouldn't have taken her to bed, now would he? That talk at the ball about taking a nob's daughter for a wife was just nonsense made up to tease his friends. Tiger wasn't the type of man who would marry for position.

  Sliding her feet to the floor she let her hands stray to her breasts. They felt swollen and achy, her whole body aware as never been before that she was a woman. Looking down she lifted her shoulders and smoothed a hand over her stomach then around her thighs.

  Sighing, she lifted her hands to push back the hair he'd tangled his fingers in. Oh, but it was surely a grand feeling to be female and fulfilled. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be so between a man and a woman. The horrific experience with the man who raped her had soured her thinking, but Tiger's lovemaking had been glorious. That was how it should be between lovers.

  To think he was now hers. They would have a lifetime of such shared times. She held the soft fabric of her ball gown to her cheek and pirouetted in the confined space. She could dance. She could really dance. Just wait 'til her Ma heard.

  Isabella wanted to sit down then and there to write a letter telling her Ma all about the ball and the excitement of meeting the Governor, and most of all how Tiger encouraged her to forget about her misshapen foot. How he'd made her feel she was just the same as the gentry.

  But she'd have to curb her impatience until Tiger confirmed a date for their wedding. Then she'd write, filling her letter with all her exciting news. Her Ma wouldn't believe her little Bella had found such happiness in the colony. Isabella couldn't hold back a laugh of absolute joy as she hugged herself.

  Quickly she bathed and dressed, impatient to see her lover. Humming one of the melodies she'd danced to she went out to the kitchen. It was empty.

  "Thelma," she called. There was no answer.

  Going outside she saw Thelma reaching to pick some gooseberries growing along the garden fence. "Thelma, why didn't you leave that for me," she scolded, limping over to Thelma's side.

  "You were sleeping so peacefully I didn't like to disturb you. Tiger said I was to let you lie abed as long as you wished this morning." Thelma gave her an oddly quizzical look.

  "He did?" Isabella smiled. How thoughtful of him. "Where is he? I would have thought after our late night he would have been wanting to spend a little extra time abed too." Isabella felt the hot color rising up her cheeks and turned swiftly away from Thelma's gaze. Did she look any different? Perhaps Thelma could read it in her eyes, see it in the movements of her changed body.

  "He was up with the dawn." Thelma waved a hand in the general direction of the fields. "Off with Gillie and Dougal to the far paddock. He said he mayn't be back this night. Something about having an urgent message to deliver for the Governor. Then he was returning the horse and rig he hired."

  "Oh." Why hadn't he told her? But of course they had been too engrossed in each other for him to think of such mundane things. But why hadn't he awakened her to say goodbye?

  "And how did you enjoy your first ball then, my girl?" Thelma asked, and Isabella forgot her misgivings as she regaled Thelma with every detail of the magical evening.

  "I didn't hear you come in. Must have been mighty late," Thelma said, and Isabella couldn't make out the strange look on her face. It was almost as if she was waiting for Isabella to divulge something.

  "Aye. I never wanted the evening to come to an end, Thelma." She sighed. "It was the most exciting night of my life. If I live to be a hundred I'll never have one to better it."

  Thelma handed her the bowl of fruit then put an arm about her shoulders as they walked back to the house. "That's grand, girl. Every woman should have one day or night out of a lifetime that is so special it stays lodged in a place in her heart, so's she can bring it out on bad days and dream about it to make everything seem better."

  "I don't think I'll ever have another bad day as long as I live Thelma. Life is going to be so good from now on, you wait and see." Isabella lifted her face to the sun, unable to stop her mouth from curving into a smile.

  Thelma didn't say any more as they went inside, but her eyes wore such a look of sadness momentarily Isabella wondered if she sensed some tragedy about to befall them. She shrugged off the odd feeling. Today was not the time to dwell on life's misfortunes.

  Isabella swept through her mundane chores in a trance. She couldn't wait for the day to end, for the next day to pass. Why oh why did Tiger chose to go off overnight? She would have to give him a strong talking to when he showed up. That was comical. Doubtless she would be meek and submissive from now on, if that was how he expected a good wife to behave. Whatever he wanted of her she would be willing to give.

  * * *

  Isabella's heart began to beat like a drum as soon as she heard the thundering of Satan's hooves on the hard ground.

  Thelma dried her hands on her apron, and went to peer through the window. "Well, Bella, the master's returned," she said mildly. "He'll be starving for a taste of my food and a swig of ale. 'Tis hot as an oven out there with the brickfielder a’ blowing."

  Isabella swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight and dry. Today had been one of the longest in her life, the hours dragging as she waited for Tiger to come home. Her impatience must have been clear to Thelma. She dropped the spoon she'd been drying. Wiping her hands she turned abruptly for the door, saying, "I'll go and see if he needs any help with his horse, seeing as Dougal isn't here."

  She heard Thelma's grunt of disbelief as she raced out the door.

  Tiger was throwing Satan's saddle over the side of his stall as she entered the stable. His shirt was grubby, clinging to his back and damp with sweat beneath his armpits. His boots were covered with dust. As he turned she saw that his face was also streaked with dirt.

  "Hello," she whispered, the word of welcome coming out on a husky note.

  "Bella." He sounded surprised to see her there. "What are you doing out here? Doesn't Thelma need you inside?"

  His eyes watched a space somewhere over her head and a panicky wave of fear shimmered through her.

  "I missed you. I wanted to be here for you when you came home. Why didn't you tell me you weren't coming back last night?" She smiled sweetly, letting him know her soft rebuke was meant in fun.

  "I don't have to tell you a thing," he said.

  Isabella gasped, and a brief look of something like shame passed over his face.

  "I know that, Tiger." Isabella moved closer, watching as he picked up a brush and began to smooth it over Satan's flanks. "Tiger, what is it? Have I done something wrong? The night of the ball. . ."<
br />
  "You've done nothing wrong, Bella." He straightened, and for the first time looked her in the eye. "We need to talk about what happened. Between us. After the ball." His words came out jerkily, as if he had trouble finding them.

  "Talk?" She felt foolish.

  "Yes, Bella. I had no right to touch you. Had no right to take you to bed. I think it best if we try and forget it ever happened."

  "Forget it? How can I forget something that altered my whole life?"

  "Bella." At last he came close enough to touch her. Clasping her upper arms he stared down at her for so long without speaking she began to feel as if she teetered on the very edge of a high cliff, about to fall forward into space.

  Where had her passionate lover gone? A man who seemed like a stranger replaced him. Was it supposed to be like this? Did all lovers feel so strange when confronting each other after the first time they'd lain together? Confusion filled her. Insecurity attacked her, making her more frightened than she'd felt on the ship, dreading what the future held.

  "What I'm trying to say, Bella, is I should never have made love to you. Call it the magic of the night, the impulse of the moment. It won't happen again." He shrugged and she stared at his shoulders as they lifted then settled. The sweat soaked shirt clung to his chest where the gold hairs peeped out of the opening. A picture of that chest, naked and glistening as he'd reared above her, wavered before her eyes.

  Anger, like a great tide, seeped up from the depths of her soul. She hit out at him, catching him by surprise. He stumbled back, then righted himself as he fell against Satan's side, one hand on the stallion's wither. The horse let out a soft snort.

  "So, I'm not to be your wife," she spat, her fist still raised.

  The look of chagrin that crossed his face would have been laughable if the whole thing hadn't been so sickening.

  "Wife? Bella, you know my intentions on that subject."

  The statement was issued in a flat, quiet way that maddened her even more. How dare he stand there and issue his caution as if discussing the weather and not something that would affect the rest of her life.

  "Of course. How daft of me." She tapped her forehead a couple of times. "And I wouldn't be good enough to be the wife of the great Tiger Carstairs. No, he's got the pick of all the nobs. He's got hisself a wealthy virgin all picked out. Why would he choose his lowly scullery maid, a convict who attacked one of the nobs he reveres so much?"

  She felt like screaming, stamping her feet, and tearing her hair out by the roots. Pain sliced through her and she wondered briefly why she wasn't dying of it. Like knives twisting in her innards the pain cut through her heart. She fought to hold back the tears. This man would never see her shed a single one.

  "Bella." He stepped towards her, but pulled up short when she glared at him, her hands clenched at her sides. "There's nothing lacking in you. You're a very desirable and beautiful woman. It's just I have these dreams that eat away at me. An' the only way as far as I can see to attain my goals is to wed a woman who will open doors for me. Surely you can see we'd be no good together, you and I . . ."

  "Yes, I see." Her head went up and down a few times. "I would just hold you back. Isabella O'Shea, a simple Irish convict, is good enough for a tumble, but isn't good enough to share your life, your dreams." She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, scared the pain would force its way out in a cry of agony.

  "Don't belittle what we shared, Bella. It was remarkable. You're a very passionate woman." Tiger held up a hand as if to touch her, but she looked at it as if it was a snake and he dropped it to his side.

  "An' you took advantage of me—you raped me," she yelled, thumping his chest as tears she could no longer hold back cascaded down her cheeks.

  Tiger grabbed her flailing hands. "Rape? Oh no, don't ever accuse me of that. You were with me all the way. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. I would never have made love to you if you weren't willing. I can be accused of many things, but violating unwilling females has never been a crime anyone could blame on me."

  "You seduced me. How can you stand there and say I allowed you to take me? You're a man who's known many women. You're what I always thought you were, Tiger Carstairs, a rutting English beast! You used your strength and your power to get what you wanted without a thought for my feelings.

  "I'll hate you for the rest of my days. D'you hear me, I'll die hating you." Lashing out with hands and feet she thrashed him about the body, shins, head, and neck; anywhere she could reach. "Jesus, I wish I had a knife in me hand right now, I'd kill you, yes I would!" she screamed, tears running into her mouth.

  "Hate me all you will," he grunted, fielding her blows. "But thank me you will, Bella. When you come to your senses you'll see it's only sensible we don't repeat what we did."

  Managing to grasp her wrists he pulled her into his arms, where she stilled, sobs racking through her. Isabella struggled again, and he tightened his hold. She heard him groan as she battled him. Then she felt his burgeoning arousal and increased her struggles, finally managing to free herself, stepping back so swiftly she nearly fell.

  "You bloody swine," she yelled. "Don't you touch me. If I ain't fit to wed you then I ain't fit to be treated no better than a whore!" In her anger she lapsed into the cockney speech picked up on the ship.

  Her cheeks flamed and her hair streamed wildly about her head. Tiger's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared before he turned his back on her and went back to tend his horse.

  "I never treated you like a whore, Bella. And have no fear, I'll not touch you again."

  When Tiger turned he was alone in the stable with Satan. The horse whickered, nuzzling his ear. Tiger picked up the mobcap Isabella dropped in her frenzy of anger. Crushing it in a palm he slumped onto a bag of grain, his head bent.

  Ye gods! What had he done? In all honesty he had to admit he deserved her contempt.

  * * *

  "What in God's name have you done to that girl?"

  Thelma gave Tiger a sour look as she placed a plate of food on the table before him. "I'm blessed if she wasn't the happiest lass in this colony when she got up this morning and her chirpiness was fit to drive me mad all day. It all changed as soon as you turned up."

  "Leave it, Thelma," Tiger snapped, his mouth set as he picked up his knife and fork. "'Tis strictly between Bella and me."

  "Oh, Tiger!" Thelma glared at him. "I pray you haven't done something that's going to spoil the girl's life. She was in such doldrums when she arrived here, and I've watched her blossom."

  Tiger scowled a warning, but she persisted, "She enjoyed the ball so much, she was like a little girl with her first present, and it was all thanks to you. And something tells me this unhappiness is all down to you too."

  "Forget it, Thelma," Tiger warned.

  He felt bad enough without Thelma rubbing salt into the wounds. He'd hurt the chit, now she would doubtless hate him. God! He deserved to rot in purgatory. He was no better than Malloy. Worse, for the Irishman was a simple lecher whereas he'd used seduction to slake his lust. He deserved her scorn; what he hadn't expected was the pain that gnawed at his innards.

  Tiger saw Thelma's eyes narrow thoughtfully and he knew she suspected what he'd done.

  "No, Tiger." She put her palms on the table and made a sound of disgust in her throat. "I would never have believed it of you. How could you do that to the girl? After all she's been through. I don't believe it."

  "Like I said, Thelma, keep out of it. 'Tis not your business."

  "No, you're right." Thelma drew in a ragged breath as she folded her arms and rocked back on her heels. "But I'm the one who will have to pick up the pieces of her broken heart."

  "She won't have a broken heart, Thelma. She's too tough. Believe me, she's already back to calling me names. She's a survivor, she'll get by."

  "She's no tougher than . . . why, than that wee bird out there." She fluttered a hand toward the garden where a lone bird filled the air with its sweet song. "An' just when she was b
eginning to find some happiness in life."

  Tiger felt like slamming his fist into something. "Hell! What do you expect me to do? Marry the wench?"

  "An' what's so bad about that idea? What is she? Too far beneath you, Tiger? Have you got so far above yourself you see the girl as only fit to warm your bed and not fit to share your life?" Stomping over to the dresser she began clattering dishes.

  "That's more or less what she said." Tiger pushed his plate away, the food forgotten. "Where is she now?" He looked about, rubbing his nape wearily.

  "Off licking her wounds, I don't doubt."

  Tiger put his head in his hands and groaned.

  She turned to glare at him, her chest heaving. "Men," she muttered. "Christ, us women have to place our lives in your hands an' there's not one of you that has the brains to know how our minds work."

  The chair toppled as Tiger scraped it back.

  "Enough!" he roared.

  Furious with her and himself he strode from the room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Isabella put her ear to the door. She heard Thelma and Gillie bid the other two goodnight, then Dougal and Tiger speaking softly.

  Poor Dougal had been so confused these past few days, knowing something was dreadfully wrong but unable to get up the courage to broach the subject. She knew he'd sensed her despair, but had been unable to fathom out the animosity between her and Tiger. Or perhaps he'd known yet preferred to keep his own counsel.

  At last she heard Dougal going out, then the floorboards creaked as Tiger paced backwards and forwards. He stopped by her door, and she could hear his breathing as he stood there for immeasurable minutes. Then he tapped lightly on the wood and called her name.

  Isabella held her breath. There was no lock on the door. He could just push it open and enter. What did he think she was? Did he really expect to come crawling to her bed and she would just let him in? But he did nothing more than call her name again, and when she didn't answer he went away.