Authors: Margaret Tanner
“She's dead.” She sobbed. “Dead.”
“Give it to me.” Adam snatched the baby from her arms. Holding it by the feet he slapped it on the bottom. Nothing happened. “Cry, damn you.” He gave it another three sharp slaps. A spluttering, coughing sound was followed by an angry scream, and loud crying filled the room.
“You did it.” Tears sprung to Tommy’s eyes. “Thank God you were here.”
“See to Mrs. Cavendish.” He thrust the screaming infant at her.
She took the child from him. “Oh, thank you, she would have died except for you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. She didn’t imagine it. He really did catch his breath.
Returning to the bedroom, she found that Mary had already delivered the placenta.
Tommy showed a tired but now radiant mother her new daughter. After she cleaned up the mess and made Mary comfortable, Tommy washed the baby and dressed it in the tiny garments Mary so lovingly crafted. When the room was tidy, she left mother and daughter together and went out to the kitchen.
“She'll want a cup of tea now.” Adam smiled. Tommy caught her breath, and for an instant her heart shuddered to a stop before taking up a pounding rhythm. What a handsome man. “I've poured it out, black and sweet.”
“Pardon?” She stared at him without comprehension for a moment.
“The tea is like you—sweet.”
“Oh, yes, thank you.” With trembling hands she took the cup from him and rushed back to Mary. “Here’s a cup of tea made by Mr. Adam Munro himself.” She gave a relieved laugh now that the danger had passed. Later when Mary got stronger she would tell her just how much she did owe him. “What are you going to call her?”
“Elizabeth Mary.”
“Nice, I like it.” Tommy picked the baby up and her heart overflowed with love for this dear little mite. “I'll go and show her to Adam now.”
“All right, thank you. I'll never forget what you both did for me today. You thought the baby was dead, didn't you?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I've got nine brothers and sisters. She didn't cry.”
“Here, let me take her.” Mary let out an exhausted sigh and relinquished the baby. With the infant cradled in her arms, Tommy went into the kitchen and stood by the table waiting for Adam who came in from outside, his arms filled with neatly cut logs.
“Adam.” She spoke his name softly. This special occasion would never come again. “I brought Elizabeth Mary out to see you. She's a little more presentable now, don't you think?” She glanced at the baby, then at him.
“Let me get rid of these.” He dropped the logs onto the hearth, and came towards her. Tommy held the baby out to him. “No, you hold her,” he lowered his voice. “Motherhood would suit you.” The words flowed over her like an intimate caress. “Welcome to the world, my pretty one.” He stroked the baby's cheek with a long tanned finger. His face had softened, and Tommy could have sworn she glimpsed the shimmer of tears in his eyes.
He shook his head as if to clear it of unsettling thoughts. “You better return her to Mrs. Cavendish.” He became brusque once more.
Back in the bedroom, Tommy checked Mary who now slept peacefully, then laid the baby in her basket. She returned to the kitchen to find Adam pouring out fresh tea.
“I couldn't find anything for you to eat.”
“There's some cake in a tin on the mantel. Do you want some?”
He shook his head.
She didn't feel like eating either, but took the tea gratefully. All of a sudden she felt bone-weary and her hand shook as she raised the cup to her lips. Some of the liquid slopped over onto her gown and she burst into tears. Sitting at the table with her head resting on her arms, she sobbed from sheer exhaustion.
He came around and pulled her into his arms. “Brave, beautiful, Tommy.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Don’t cry,” he soothed. “It's all over now.”
He didn’t speak again but his breath lifted the strands of hair at the nape of her neck. She felt somehow safe and secure in his strong embrace. Time passed, she didn’t know how long she stayed cosseted in his arms. Finally, he pushed her away so he could make more tea.
“I sent Jamie for David, what happened?” She suddenly remembered. “I forgot about him in all the panic.”
“David wasn't home so he came to find me. I’d been checking out some dingo tracks near your place.”
For the first time she noticed he wore dusty, sweat-stained work clothes. “Dingoes?”
“Native dogs in Australia are called dingoes.” He gnawed his lower lip. He couldn’t remember when he last apologized to anyone, and it didn’t come easy. Nothing was easy when it came to Tommy Lindsay. “I think I might owe Touser an apology. I found a large dog, half dingo at a guess, leading a marauding pack of killers.”
“I knew it wouldn’t be Touser killing those sheep, but I accept your apology on his behalf.”
“The wanton slaughter upset me and I lost my temper. Tell Jamie I’m sorry, but keep the wretched mutt tied up. I don’t want him anywhere near my place, when the livestock are in such a weakened state.”
“All right. The drought is terrible. I didn't realize it affected the likes of you.”
“We might have more land but we have more stock, so our losses are greater.”
“I thought you sent your sheep away.”
“I did, they've been on the move for weeks. I own a smaller property in Gippsland, so they'll end up there.”
“Your cattle?”
“I left them here. A case of choosing between moving the cattle or the sheep. I chose sheep rightly or wrongly. It’s taken me years of careful breeding to build up my flock. I have some of the finest merino sheep in the country.”
“Where's Jamie?”
“My place. I had a couple of the men with me so they took him home.”
“I sent Jamie to find David. Do you know where he went?”
His mouth tightened. “Even if the little fellow could have made it back here, which I doubt, he would have got in the way. He's much better off at my place.” His fingers drummed on the table. “I happened to pass David on the track earlier today heading towards the Great Divide. I told him not to waste his time, there's no hay left there now. He shouldn’t have taken those mares.”
She sprang to her brother’s defense. “They were free; it was a chance to build up our stock.” Where would David get the money to buy hay from, even if he found some?
“With little water and no feed, he'll end up losing everything. This isn't England, you know.” He got up and wandered over to the stove. The fire had died down to a bed of glowing embers.
Tommy went to stand in the open doorway hoping to catch an evening breeze. With the fire still burning, the little kitchen felt like a furnace.
Adam joined her after a short time. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “I unsaddled your horse earlier. No one will come here until morning now, so try to rest while the other two are asleep. You'll have little chance later on.”
They stood together for a time without speaking. She felt acutely aware of the tall dark man beside her. Why did he have such an unsettling effect on her? She stifled a yawn. It had been a long, trying day.
“Would you like some more tea? I might try to get some sleep after I've had a drink.”
“No, thank you. I've drunk enough tea over the last couple of hours to last me a lifetime. A glass of whisky, now that would be different.” He gave a sudden grin.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked.
“Out here on the verandah.”
“Goodnight.” She turned towards the house.
“Good night, Tommy.” His hands shot out and grasped her shoulders and he swung her around to face him. He relaxed his stance, lowered his head and his mouth closed over hers in a gentle, tentative caress, light as thistledown. When her trembling lips parted, he increased the pressure and excitement, like captured butterflies, fluttered around in the pit of her stomach.
Her arms wound themselves around his neck, her fingers somehow becoming entangled in the springy hair at his nape. She felt his tongue darting inside her mouth, exploring, plundering and it felt so good she never wanted it to end. Pressed tightly to him, her breasts were crushed against his hard chest wall and she could feel the thumping of his heart as it raced out of control. The musky scent of his skin became so overpowering it drove all coherent thought out of her mind.
She moved her arms, locked them around his waist and let her head fall back to give him deeper access to her mouth. Emboldened by his passion she started exploring his mouth with her tongue, and a shudder shook all the way through him.
Their tongues danced together, twisting and gyrating in a maddened frenzy. Seeking, finding, taking, but still wanting more. A whooshing, roaring sound filled her ears. Excited spasms gripped the deepest most secret parts of her body.
He pushed her away. “Go to bed,” he ordered, “while I still have the strength to let you go.”
She fled inside, taking deep gulps of air to get her emotions under control once more. After checking on Mary and the baby, who both slept, she took an eiderdown and laid it on the floor in the bedroom, removed her gown and settled down to sleep. How could she have let Adam kiss her with so much passion, worse still, return his caresses in such a wanton manner?
Because she loved him. How, when, why? She didn’t know, but somehow it had happened. She had been waiting for something like this, the grand passion, all consuming, overwhelming, and she had found it. With the wrong man. Adam felt lust for her, nothing else. He was hell-bent on marrying Sophia who had thousands of acres of land as a dowry.
****
Adam paced the verandah with his hands sunk deep into his pockets. Thank God circumstances prevented him from formally asking for Sophia's hand. She was quite attractive. This had appealed to him, combined with her being sole heir to her father's twenty-thousand-acre cattle station. The extra land would have been useful.
Had the Lindsays not taken over old Henry’s place, he would have married her. Now his plans had changed. He always assumed women were fond of children, and Sophia would be no different. It surprised and disappointed him to realize she had no nurturing instincts whatsoever.
Her treatment of Jamie annoyed him. Such a fine little fellow should have appealed to any woman. It was quite obvious to him now that she would never be the kind of mother he envisaged for his sons. He could live without love, had done so for most of his life, but he wanted more for his children.
His own lonely childhood, once his mother died, stood out in his memory. He would never forget her gentleness and affection. After his birth she had been unable to carry a child full term. One miscarriage followed another. He gave a shuddering sigh. If only his father had given her time to regain her strength things might have been different, but he made her with child again almost straight away. That damned obsession of his. Having more than one son, to replace the father and two brothers, who perished trying to tame this savage frontier.
Around the time of his seventh birthday, his gentle, delicate mother died in childbirth. A string of nursemaids and governesses brought him up. His father always chose hardened old maids, devoid of any maternal instinct. He thrashed any tenderness out of Adam, and brought him up to be tough, uncompromising. To take what he wanted, and hold on to it, once he got it.
Tommy Lindsay annoyed him, more than that, she drove him crazy; but he liked her gutsy, fighting spirit. She was one of only a handful of people who had the courage to defy him. No other woman would have dared wear men's clothing and ride in that race. She won it; and she escaped and rescued the aboriginal girl from those feral mountain people. Watching those big blue eyes gazing with such tenderness at the Cavendish baby clinched it. She would be the mother of his sons.