Sweet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  Lydia pushed back a strand of hair that blew across her face. “Brig? One of the highwaymen was Brig? Nathan, you can’t know that.”

  She was right, of course. He couldn’t know it with complete certainty and now he regretted sharing his supposition with Lydia. She would never comprehend Brigham the way he did, never appreciate that it wasn’t intuition that guided him now, but a deep understanding of how Brigham worked when his back was to the wall and desperation made him reckless. Nathan felt his own choices dwindling. He was going to have to face Brig and settle what was between them. It was the only way he could protect Lydia.

  “You’re right,” he said, his expression shuttered. He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Go on back inside. You can tell me all their stories later. I have work to do.” He strode off without giving her a chance to question his easy capitulation.

  Lydia wandered back in the kitchen and stood at the periphery of the excited chatter. The coach driver moved aside to let her in the circle. She shook her head, smiling. “I’m fine where I am.”

  “I’m sorry about your letter, Mrs. Hunter,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we’ll find it later. Not likely that Kelly and his bunch wanted more than the money in the strongbox.”

  “Letter?” asked Lydia. “There was something for me on the coach?”

  The driver nodded. “I mentioned it to Mr. Hunter. Just happened to see there was something for you when they put the mail on at Sydney. Like I said, we’ll probably find it later. Ned was after the money, not much doubt about that. He won’t take what he has no use for.”

  “I’m certain you’re right,” she said, and then hesitated. “I don’t suppose you noticed where my letter came from? Did it originate in Sydney?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. That’s why I was upset that we lost it. I supposed this was something important for you. The stamp is what caught my eye in the first place. The letter came all the way from San Francisco.”

  The passengers were all gone by dinner and the wave of excitement had vanished with them. Irish and Lydia were eating alone in the dining room, neither of them having the inclination to wait for Nathan, especially when Molly put the hot food in front of them and ordered them to eat.

  Lydia heaped Irish’s plate with Molly’s special dish of rabbit with cherry sauce, potatoes, and green beans and onions. “I’ve noticed you’ve had a better appetite lately,” she said when he stared at the plate she laid in front of him. “It won’t hurt to indulge a little.”

  “Trying to fatten me up?”

  “Fill you out,” she countered. Her eyes darted over his face, noting the sallowness of his complexion, the hint of gauntness in his broad features. The robust man she had known a few short months ago was fading in front of her eyes. Conspiring with Molly to stimulate Irish’s appetite was hardly helping. His spirits were good, but pain was a thin white line around his mouth and permanently engraved at the corners of his eyes.

  He puffed his cheeks, got the laughing response he wanted from Lydia, and began to eat. “Nathan’s going to be sorry he missed this meal,” he said after a while.

  “I’ll have Molly put aside something for him. He can eat later this evening.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight. I heard Jack tell Tess that he’s gone up to Lion’s Ridge.”

  “What?” Lydia’s head snapped up and her fork hovered in midair. She forced herself to relax. “You must be mistaken. He told me last night that he was going to send Jack and Pooley up there. Jack must have meant he was going, not Nathan. Nathan’s still out repairing fences with Billy and Ed. I saw him leave with them earlier this afternoon.”

  “But he didn’t return with them. Billy and Ed are eating dinner with the other hands right now. Where are you going? Lydia? Come back—”

  “I’ll just be a moment,” she said without turning around. “I want to find Tess.”

  Lydia never returned to the dining room. When she found out from Tess that Irish hadn’t mistaken what he’d overheard, she went in search of Jack. After extracting his promise to escort her to Lion’s Ridge, Lydia went to her own room and began packing. Irish caught up with her again as she was hurrying down the main staircase. She had already changed into a split riding skirt and boots and was carrying a bedroll and saddlebag stuffed with a change of clothes, personal items, and a Remington revolver. She had thrown a jacket around her shoulders and her hair was pulled back and tied at her nape with a black velvet ribbon. The hat on her head was a shade too large for her head and the wide brim rested on the upper curve of her ears.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, blocking her way with his chair. She tried to sidestep him, but Irish wheeled around quickly and blocked her again. “I think I have a right to know where you’re going.”

  “To Lion’s Ridge. I’m going to find Nathan.”

  “Bloody hell!”

  “Yes, bloody hell!” she shot back. “Jack’s agreed to show me the way. I’m not so foolish as to set off alone at night.”

  “I’ll order him to stay here.”

  “Then I will go off on my own, Irish. I want to be with Nathan.”

  Irish’s thick fingers gripped the arms of his chair as he took measure of Lydia’s threat. Finally he wheeled out of her way. “All right,” he said. “Go. Take Jack and Pooley with you.”

  Lydia released the breath she had been holding and came down the last step to the landing. “Thank you, Irish.” She bent then, and did something she had never done before: she kissed him. Her lips brushed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

  The hallway was empty by the time Irish found his voice. “By God, you do love him.” Rolling his chair into the study, Irish found his strongbox and opened it. He removed two wills, glanced at them both, then tore up one, hoping to God he had not left it for too late.

  The ride to Lion’s Ridge was as arduous as Jack had warned Lydia. Her escorts rode on either side of her when it was possible, but there were many times when the trails narrowed and single file was the only way to pass. The horses were sure-footed yet they grew restless and shied on some of the rocky sandstone ledges they were forced to negotiate. Jack led the way, carrying a lantern. The light was bright enough for him to see his breath misting in the cool evening air. He did not need another reminder of how cold it was going to get. Behind him he heard Lydia’s teeth chattering.

  Where there was forest it was thick with the evergreen gum trees. Starshine and moonlight were often obliterated by the spreading crowns of the eucalypts. The forest floor was littered with stiffened strings of bark the trees had shed the previous spring and summer. Beneath the horses’ hooves, the ground crackled and sometimes the brush would snap loudly as a kangaroo was startled by their approach and leaped to safety.

  They rode for several hours and Lydia stoically bore the silent censure of both her companions, not caring in the least whether or not they approved. Neither did she tell them anything that might have led them to a different conclusion about her journey. The business of Ballaburn that pitted Brig and Nathan against each other was a private matter, not meant for speculation by the stockmen. She didn’t want to think about them choosing sides behind the man they wanted to head Ballaburn in Irish’s place.

  Jack reined in his horse and pointed a small flickering light in the distance. “That’s probably Nath, Mrs. Hunter.”

  “Probably?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Who can tell? It’s Lion’s Ridge, that much I know. You can’t tell now, but in daylight it’s golden sandstone with a slope carved out like a lion’s mane. Your husband’s up there or it’s bushrangers. We’ll go quiet as we can from here. No need to make ourselves known until we’re certain.” Raising the lantern, he blew it out, and night surrounded them like a shroud.

  It took them another hour to reach the campsite, for the light on the ridge had been visible for miles. When they arrived there was no one around. All that remained of the beacon fi
re was a few embers and ash.

  “We’ll camp here,” Pooley said. “The site’s been cleared of scrub and we have the makings for a fire. There’s no sense going on tonight. We’ll have to wait until morning to track him.”

  The ridge was dotted with boulders and Pooley disappeared behind a grouping of them to gather some kindling. When he reappeared a few moments later, he wasn’t alone.

  Nathan was holding a gun. “I think an explanation is in order,” he said flatly. He was not looking at Pooley or Jack. His silver-gray predator eyes had centered on Lydia.

  She steadied herself not to flinch and answered as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “Of course I’ll explain, but I’d rather it be for your ears alone.”

  Nathan looked from Jack to Pooley. “Go on,” he said. “You can camp at the foot of the gully; that way you’ll be too far away to stop me from beating her.” Both men laughed but Nathan wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t serious. Lydia’s nervous laughter told him that she didn’t know what to think either. “Lydia and I will meet you in the morning and we’ll all go back to Ballaburn together. Jack. Pooley. Thanks. I’m assuming she would have come with or without you. Better with you.”

  “Right you are, Nath,” Jack said. He tipped his hat to Nathan and took the reins of his mount and began leading him away. He stopped suddenly and turned around. “How long ago did you hear us approaching?”

  “Thirty minutes. As soon as you started climbing. The ridge is too full of loose stone to make a quiet ascent. That’s why I chose to camp here.”

  Jack shook his head, his smile admiring. “Nothin’ gets past you.”

  “There’s a fact,” Pooley added, grinning. He dropped the kindling in his hands on the cooling fire and followed his friend down the rocky incline.

  Their noisy descent gave Nathan opportunity to talk without fear of being overheard. He holstered his gun. “Tell me now what you’re doing here, Lydia, because I’m really of a mind to turn you over my knee.”

  Lydia bent close to the fire and began arranging the kindling so it would ignite. “You left me alone at Ballaburn,” she said simply. “I didn’t think you should have done that. I thought I was at Ballaburn so you could protect me, and suddenly you were here and I was there and I didn’t like being left alone.”

  “I left you there because you were safer there. You’re always safer at the house than you are in the bush. How dare you risk your life and the lives of two of the men by coming out here.”

  She waited for silence to settle. “And what about your life?” she asked calmly. “It was only this afternoon that you told me Brig might have done the coach robbery. Then you disappear. Do you think I don’t know what this is about, Nathan? If you want to confront Brigham, then wait for him to come to you. Let him come to the house where there’s protection for everyone, not up here where…where...” She waved her arm to indicate her surroundings as words to describe their situation failed her.

  “Where I have better position than I’d ever have at the house,” he said tightly. “Look around you, Lydia, and try to understand what it is you’re seeing. This ridge has its own natural protection. You couldn’t get close without me hearing you and neither can Brig. These boulders behind us offer cover. There is no higher ground in these parts. You probably saw my fire twelve miles off. So will Brig. It was built expressly for that purpose when I couldn’t find any sign of him in the area. I want him to approach me here, Lydia. It’s time Brig and I talked about Ballaburn, don’t you think?”

  “Talk?” she asked incredulously. “That’s why you’ve come out here?”

  “It’s what I plan to do first.” He didn’t have to say anything else. Letting the sentence hang there, Nathan made Lydia understand what he would do if forced.

  “Brig may not be out here at all,” she said.

  “You’re right. He may not be. And with you out here now, I hope he’s not. I hope he had nothing to do with the coach robbery or the random attacks on Ballaburn. That’s what I hope, Lydia, but not what I believe.” He kicked at a loose stone and sent it sailing over the ridge. “Tomorrow morning we’re going back to the house and you’ll stay there.”

  “But if you leave—”

  “You’ll stay there.” He waited for her response and thought he saw a slight nod of her head. “All right. Let’s get some sleep. Get your bedroll and whatever else you had sense enough to bring. I’ll get my things.” He disappeared behind the boulders for a few minutes, came back with his bedroll, and laid it out.

  Lydia took the straps off her bedroll and laid it a few feet from Nathan’s. He glanced at it and shook his head. “You’re going to be cold tonight,” he said. “You’d better move closer. Take advantage of my body heat.”

  “You were going to be out here alone,” she pointed out. “I’ll manage.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. My coat is heavier than yours, my bedroll’s thicker, and I’ve slept in the bush before. Even so, I don’t relish the thought of it tonight. If you won’t share warmth for your sake, then do it for mine.”

  “Oh, very well.” She dragged her blankets beside his. “There. Satisfied?”

  He answered her sarcasm in kind. “How gracious you are.” Nathan set some stones around the small fire to keep it from spreading and saw to their horses before he went over to their blankets. He looked down at Lydia, all bundled up in her bedding, and shook his head again.

  “What is it now?” she asked wearily.

  “The idea is to share the blankets and share our heat under them.” He hunkered down, yanked hard on one corner of Lydia’s blankets, and rolled her out of it.

  “Nathan! What do you think you’re—”

  “Don’t press me, Lydia,” he said tersely, a rough edge to his tone. “I’m still not happy that you’re here, but since you are, you’ll do things my way. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Good. Now get off the ground before you catch your death. I’ll fix our bed the way I want it.” He snapped open two blankets, laid them out smoothly, and told Lydia to lie down. Stripping off his jacket, he gave it to her. “Cover yourself with this.”

  “I have a coat, Nathan. What will you—”

  “Do it,” he fairly growled. “That’s better.” Getting their saddles, Nathan put them down to rest their heads on. He lay down beside her, fitting his body to the stiff contours of hers, spoon-fashion, and pulled two heavier blankets over them. He tucked them around Lydia and himself as best he could. “I can still feel you shivering,” he said.

  Lydia felt him move closer, something she didn’t think was possible. The trembling she knew he felt was not entirely due to the cold. His arm was heavy across her waist and his breath was warm against her hair. She tried to stay as still as possible until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Nathan?”

  His sigh was long on suffering. His voice was short on patience. “What is it?”

  “There’s a stone digging into my hip.”

  “Move it.”

  Lydia shifted, and her buttocks pressed directly against Nathan’s groin. Even through her skirt and his jeans she felt his arousal.

  “I meant, move the stone,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Not move your backside.”

  “Oh.” She shifted again, heard him groan and swear softly. “Sorry. I’ll get it in just a moment. Almost. There.” She pulled it out, a little disappointed to feel how small it was in the palm of her hand. She would have sworn she was lying on Gibraltar. Lydia pitched it away and it rattled the scrub brush.

  “What was that?” Nathan reached for his gun.

  “I tossed the stone.”

  He relaxed slowly. “God, I may have to beat you before the night’s over.”

  “Please don’t be angry.”

  “Angry? Angry hardly describes what I’m feeling right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this. So…so frustrating.”

  “You didn’t know? Lyd
ia, how can you say that? I’ve been sleeping on the floor of our bedroom for the better part of two weeks because we know what happens when we’re this close.”

  Lydia turned over and faced him. “Show me what happens.”

  Nathan sucked in his breath. “Don’t tease me.”

  “I’m not. Please, Nathan, if you don’t kiss me, I’ll...”

  “What?”

  “I’ll kiss you.” She closed the distance between their lips. Her mouth was warm and hard and hungry. Lydia’s hands touched his lean cheeks, keeping him still while her lips tasted his. Her tongue flicked at his upper lip, traced the line of it. She moved over him, kissing his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. Her breath was moist and sweet. She kissed his neck, nipping his flesh with her teeth. The soft, excited groan she heard was encouragement enough. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, spread the material, and delved beneath it. Lowering her head, she placed tiny, tempting kisses on his chest. His heart was racing and his breathing was harsh and uneven, catching as he anticipated the touch of her mouth and the caress of her fingers.

  “Lydia?” Nathan stilled the restless and eager exploration of her hands. “Are you certain? Do you know what—”

  “Yes,” she said, kissing him on the mouth. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” She punctuated each affirmation with another kiss. “Let me, Nathan. Please let me love you.”

  Nathan turned her on her back. His lips hovered above hers. “You’re going to freeze,” he whispered.

  She smiled. “Cover me.”

  His mouth slanted across hers, hard and searching. He kissed her over and over—her neck, her cheeks, the sensitive spot just below her ear. His tongue ravaged her mouth, wanting, then wanting more. She helped him loosen the buttons on her blouse and together they tugged the material free of her skirt. He kissed her breasts through her chemise, laving her nipples with the rough edge of his tongue. They were raised hard against the material, and when he worried them with his lips and teeth she arched in his embrace.