Authors: Margaret Tanner
“I know, it’s a wonderful opportunity.” Jo could see the possibilities already.
They sat up into the early hours of the morning making plans. Fiona and Lucy would go first to see whether they liked it. Luke's degrading payment of four pounds would cover the cost of their coach fares. This helped take away some of the bitterness, but the hurt would always remain. He had treated her like a common prostitute.
***
Next morning, Jo drove into the coach depot. She and Fiona clung together when it was time for their final goodbye. “Come with us. Don’t stay on the farm,” Fiona beseeched at the last minute.
Jo squashed down the cynical thought about Fiona being more worried about travelling on the coach with Lucy than how she would cope in an empty homestead on an isolated farm. But being alone held no fear for her, she would bolt the doors and windows at night and sleep with Ian's rifle under the bed.
***
Wednesday evening after Jo had fed Mark and put him down for the night, someone banged on the front door. “I'm coming, who is it?”
“Luke.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
His response caused anger to spiral all the way through her. “You're wasting your time, the door is bolted and it stays that way.”
“If you don't open up, I'll break it down.”
“It’s solid red gum? I don't think so, Luke.”
“We need to discuss the boy.” He banged on the door again.
“Why?”
“Let me in.”
“All right.” She slid the bolt back. “You can't stay long, Fiona is away. A woman alone has to protect her reputation.” Her voice dripped sarcasm.
“You don't have one.”
“No, thanks to you.”
He pushed the door open with such force it nearly slammed her against the wall. She held her hands in front of her, though small protection they would be.
“What do you want to discuss?”
“Later,” he growled.
He dragged her into his arms, and his mouth against hers was hot, urgent. “Why do I want you so badly?” he muttered as his hand sought and found her breast.
She lashed out at him for treating her like a common harlot. “Let me go.” Twisting and turning did no good. He merely tightened his hold.
“Don't fight me, you'll only get hurt.” He loosened the pressure a little.
“You tricked me, said you wanted to talk about Mark.”
“I do, but later.”
Already his nimble fingers worked on the buttons of her bodice. When her breasts were exposed, his mouth closed over one rosy nipple. “Mm, beautiful, I've dreamed of doing this again over the last four days.”
“You've got a wife, go to her.”
“I don't want her. It's you I crave. You're in my blood, damn you to hell for it.”
“Please, Luke.”
He took no notice. Within seconds, the top of her gown hung around her waist and his lips nibbled at the bare flesh of her shoulders. She fought the fires of desire that were even now coursing through her veins. Had he shown some gentleness or respect, it wouldn’t have been so degrading, but this was sheer lust, savage, primitive, all consuming.
No power on earth could stop him now. His sheer strength overpowered her as they came together on the couch in the parlor. She hated the way her body arched up to meet the thrusting urgent demand of his. How her quivering feminine canal welcomed him, drawing him in deeper and deeper until his manhood was buried up to its hilt. When he slaked his desire, he lifted her tears away with the tip of his tongue.
“We need each other. Can't you even admit that?” His soft voice caressed her. His fingers threaded themselves through her hair. “I want to take you away from here. Get you a place where it will be easier for us to spend time together.”
“Set me up as your mistress? A nice little cottage far enough away from the big house not to be an embarrassment?” she queried.
“It doesn't have to be like that.”
“How else can it be? You've got a wife; we can hardly live under the same roof.”
“I'll buy you clothes, jewels, a house. We could even take a trip to America later on. Name what you want and I’ll get it for you.”
“What do I have to do in return?”
“Be there when I want you.”
“You're disgusting. You don't care about me or anything else except your own lust. Leave.” She hit out at his face. “Get out and leave me alone.”
“You've got a beautiful body.” He stood up and his eyes roved over every inch of it. “Even having the child has made no difference.”
“You'll end up giving me another one,” she yelled.
“That wouldn't be so bad. A man in my position needs more than one son.”
His flat statement sent shock waves through her. Who the hell did he think he was?
“You're forgetting your wife.”
“I've forgotten nothing. When I mate a valuable stallion, I do it with a thoroughbred, there's no weakness in the line then. My seed planted in you, will produce the best.”
“You want to breed from me?” She couldn’t hide the revulsion in her voice. He had relegated her to the status of a brood mare.
His lips drew into a thin, tight line. “Get dressed so we can discuss the boy.”
“Mark. His name is Mark.”
“You should have named him after me.”
“Why?”
“Because I sired him,” he snarled. “A son should carry his father's name.”
“But he hasn't got a father. He's a bastard, remember?”
“I'll throttle you, so help me, one of these days you’ll push me too far.”
“It's true.” Tears burned in her eyes.
“Don't you think I regret that? We should have been married, would have been if you hadn't lied to me.”
“You didn't come over offering marriage.”
“All right.” He threw his hands in the air. “I didn't, well, not exactly. If you’d told me the truth, we would have been wed before he was born.”
“But only after I'd suffered a little more, is that it?”
“Damn you, Jo.”
Anger ricocheted from his body, and she was glad to have scored off him for once.
“Has he been baptized?”
“What?”
“Has the boy been baptized?”
“No.”
“I want him done.”
She stared at him. Had he gone mad? “I didn't know you were religious,” she spluttered.
“I'm not. It can be put in the church records that I'm his father. He might need documented proof later on. I'll be contacting my lawyer also.”
“I can't believe you're saying this, Luke.”
“If anything happens to me, he will be legally provided for, otherwise Cassandra and her shiftless brother will go through the lot. Kangaroo Gully will go to my son.”
He stood there, ruthless in his arrogance, diamond hard, with not one vestige of softness about him. Only his blazing eyes were mobile.
“I’ll see the parson and make all the arrangements,” he said.
“They mightn’t want to do it under the circumstances.”
“A big enough donation,” he sneered, “and the church will do anything I want.”
***
On Saturday, Glory sent the carriage over. Jo looked forward to meeting the girls again as she had missed their cheerful company. It was lonesome in the homestead without Fiona. There had been no further word from Luke. She hated herself afresh each time she thought of how he manipulated her, how she gave into the clamoring demands of her body. He was a practiced seducer. How many women must he have had over the years? “Don’t forget it Jo Saunders, when he comes to you again,” she said aloud. And that he would come she had no doubt whatsoever.
The spring sun shone from an almost cloudless sky. There had been little rain, so the outlook for summer appeared grim. Along the roadside, the purple flag flower grew in bright profusion. How sad, the flowers had already started to close and wither in the afternoon sun, but come tomorrow, they would be back again in all their glory. She laughed at the antics of the willy-wagtails chasing each other through the treetops.
In a gown of rose patterned muslin, she looked well. It gave her the confidence to sit straight and tall in the carriage as they drove down the main street. They passed a buggy and she returned the frantic waving of the blonde Carson twins.
Benny wielded his broom outside the police station, and she asked the driver to stop. “How are you, Benny?”
“Howdy, Jo.”
“How's the painting?”
He grinned. “Good, good, done lots.”
“Will you show them to me sometime?”
He nodded as her carriage moved on.
Glory waited on the verandah for them. As soon as they pulled up in the yard she scooped Mark up. “My, you are becoming a big fellow,” she crooned.
Jo stepped down. “It's little wonder as he still wakes up at least once during the night to be fed. How's business?”
“Oh well,” Glory chortled. “Up and down.”
Jo laughed at this crudity.
“Mary's had the kettle on ready for the last half hour or so.”
“You're too good to me, really you are. I feel like an honored guest rather than an employee.”
“I consider you a friend. Over the years, I've had very few of those.”
Jo kissed the heavily powdered cheek. “Thank you. I'm proud to have you as a friend, too.”
“We haven't seen Luke all week.” Glory gave a knowing wink.
“Oh?”
“He usually comes in at least one other day apart from Saturday. Francy's quite put out about it.”
“I saw him on Wednesday,” Jo admitted, overwhelmed with guilt.
“That explains it. A sure thing he'll turn up tonight then.”
“He wants Mark to be baptized, insisted on it, in fact.”
“What?” Glory waved one arm about, and the sun beams catching her bejeweled fingers, caused the gems to twinkle.
Briefly Jo explained what had happened.
“He's up to something. I'd stake my bloody life on it. Watch him.”
Mary greeted them enthusiastically, and put on a banquet for afternoon tea. The other girls acted pleased to see her.
“How are you, Jo?”
“Good, how are you, Katie.”
“You came back.” The Irish girl spoke through a mouthful of cake.
“Yes, did you think I wouldn't?”
Katie laughed. “Plenty wouldn't have.”
“Oh, it's you.” Francy glided in wearing a clinging silk dressing gown that left little to the imagination. Jo hated herself for wondering whether Luke ever saw her parading around dressed like this.
“I suppose we can expect Luke Campton tonight,” she sneered. “You won't hold him for long, no woman can, but he always comes back to me.”
“That’s nice for you.” She averted her face so Francy wouldn’t see the turmoil that would be smoldering in her eyes. She hated herself for caring where Luke went, what he did and with whom, but was powerless to stop the churning jealousy that whipped up a whirlpool of emotion.
Katie giggled behind one hand. A string of Italian abuse preceded a furious Rosa. Her voluptuous breasts heaved in her blood red gown, and her brown eyes had turned black with rage. She advanced threateningly towards Francy, who now reclined in an armchair.
“What's wrong, Rosa?” Glory interrupted the impassioned outpourings. That the Italian girl was upset as well as enraged was patently obvious.
She waved a gold hand mirror. “Inna her room I find.”
“Oh that, I borrowed it.” Francy's languid drawl inflamed the Italian even more.
“Thief, thief.” Rosa lunged and grabbed the blonde around the throat and it took Glory and Katie's combined strength to drag her away. Glory restored order by thrusting a glass of brandy into the volatile Italian’s hand.
“I've got a new girl starting tonight, her name's Vickie.”
“Oh.” Jo didn’t know what else to say.
“Anglo Indian. Father was an English officer stationed there during some uprising or other, never married the mother.” Glory shrugged. “You know how it is. Found begging in the streets of Calcutta by an acquaintance of mine. She became his mistress for a time, but this young fellow got himself an English bride, so Vickie became an embarrassment to him. He couldn’t take her to London with him, yet he didn't want to desert her entirely, so he sent her here. Go easy on her.” She stared straight at Francy. “Things will be strange for her at first.”
“I thought you only employed experienced girls here,” Yasmin snapped. “We do have a reputation to maintain.”
Jo stared in disbelief as Yasmin made a statement that at first seemed ridiculous, but this place was high class.
“I don't employ common whores.” Glory's voice rose. “Not out here. I value my clientele too much. In the outside bar, it’s different. My point is this: her command of English is limited, but I have it on good authority, yes, very good authority,” she chortled. “Vickie knows exactly how to please a man. You might even learn something from her. An exotic place, the Far East.”