The Australian (14 page)

After a while, she took off her shoes and waded across the cool creek to the other side. She wandered up the small rise through the eucalyptus trees and saw the Sterling Run Land Rover coming across the grassy paddock at a clip. Her heart leapt wildly when she recognized the driver.

Across the horizon were storm clouds, and even as John pulled up at the edge of the wooded area, rain started pelting down.

“Well, get in before you get wet,” he growled, throwing open the passenger door.

She dived in, shoes in hand, and closed the door, scrutinizing him warily. He looked savage. His blue eyes glimmered under his heavy dark brows, and his lips made a thin line as he glared at her. He hadn’t changed his clothing since she’d seen him at school, and he smelled of sheep and dust and the outdoors.

“Am I distasteful?” he asked curtly. “I’d forgotten how long it’s been since you’ve seen me straight from the shearing sheds.”

He wouldn’t be distasteful to her if he were covered in tar and feathers, but she didn’t say that. “You’ve been working hard, the boys said,” she observed.

“Have to,” he returned on a sigh as the rain came heavier, making the cab a private, cozy haven. “We’re still a long way from financial security at the station.”

“You’ll make it eventually,” she said confidently.

He took off his hat and tossed it into the back of the vehicle, which was littered with tools and rags and dusty equipment. His hair was sweaty and he looked as ragged as he probably felt.

“What’s going on between you and that pommy?” he inquired bluntly, pinning her with his eyes.

Her lips parted with an indrawn breath at the unexpected attack. She lifted a hand to her hair and mussed it. “Nothing,” she said.

“Don’t hand me that,” he growled. He threw a strong arm over the back of the seat, and she could see the muscles rippling under the darkly tanned skin. “He was making emphatic statements about being in love.”

“Yes, but not with me,” she burst out.

“There was no one else in the room, except the twins,” he reminded her, glaring at her mouth.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at his face with helpless longing. Her hands clenched in her lap, and she closed her eyes because she wanted so badly to kiss him. Outside the rain pelted the hood with a loud metallic sound.

“Oh, never mind,” he said irritably. “Come here.”

He held out one arm, and without really questioning her own docility, she went close to him, burrowing against his broad chest with a small contented sigh.

“I’ll probably get you filthy, but I’m beyond caring,” he murmured huskily as his arms contracted. “I’m starved for you, Priscilla.” He nuzzled his face against hers and searched for her mouth. “Too starved.”

She gave her mouth up to him, completely, letting him pierce the line of her lips with his tongue and penetrate to the soft darkness beyond. She didn’t even protest when he turned her so she lay across his lap, or when he jerked open his shirt.

“Let me feel you,” he whispered hungrily as his hand went to the buttons of her pink blouse. “All of you, against me, here...”

He had her mouth under his again, and her hands clung to his bare arms as he got the fabric out of the way and suddenly crushed her softness into the hard warm muscle and thick hair over his chest.

“Oh, God,” he groaned huskily, folding her even closer. “Oh, God, how sweet, how sweet...!” He began to move her body so her breasts dragged against his skin, intensifying the need they were both feeling to such a degree that she cried out.

He lifted his shaggy head and looked into her eyes. His own were gleaming and wild. “Did I hurt you?” he asked shakily.

“No,” she moaned. “Do it...do it again,” she whispered.

He obliged, but this time he watched her face, watched the pleasure she was feeling as it was betrayed by her parted lips, her wide misty eyes.

His gaze dropped down to where their bodies met, and he watched the hard nipples disappear into the thick hair over his muscular chest.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed reverently. “Watching you...this way...drives me wild.” He brought one hand from behind her and brushed his fingers lightly against the side of her breast. “Silk,” he whispered as his fingers found the exquisite contours and then eased between their bodies to mold the peak.

His eyes shot back up to hers, and she lay helpless against him, trapped by the sensuality of his hands, his gaze. She was completely at his mercy, and he had to know it.

“I’ll teach you to trust me somehow,” he whispered, bending to her mouth. “Open your mouth, little virgin. All this...is only love-play. How could I take you in this damned dirty vehicle...?”

That relaxed her a little. She didn’t fight the possession of his mouth as he took her own again, a little more fervently this time.

“Honey, touch me,” he coaxed. “Stroke me.”

Her hands obeyed him. She liked the feel of his muscles, especially the ones just above his belt buckle. She touched him there, and he groaned, and the muscles clenched like coiled wire.

“Oh!” She stilled her fingers and looked up at him.

His lips were parted, swollen like her own, and he was having trouble breathing. His blond-streaked hair had fallen onto his brow, and he looked like a lover. Really like a lover.

“Do you feel adventurous?” he asked unsteadily. “Because if you do, I’ll teach you some shocking things about a man’s body.”

Part of her was caught in the trap and wanted desperately to be taught. The saner part knew where all this was leading, and it was to a dead end. He only wanted her.

She leaned her forehead against him and pressed her hand flat over his heart. “No,” she said in a defeated tone. “No, I can’t; I can’t go through it again,” she murmured weakly. “I can’t live through it twice. John, please, don’t do this to me!”

His hands went to her back, and he held her close, feeling her breasts like satin against him, loving the bareness of her back, the scent of her.

He kissed her closed eyes, her forehead, in a breathlessly tender way and then eased her away from him.

His eyes went helplessly to her nakedness. She was bigger now, fuller, firmer, and the sight of her was glorious. It made his heart soar.

He reached out and ran a gentle finger over the swollen-tipped contours. “You were made for children,” he breathed, thinking of how she’d look holding his.

Her whole body shook at the words, at the mental picture of a little blond baby suckling heartily at the place he was touching, and she stopped breathing as she met his level gaze.

It was like a moment out of time, when they were thinking the same thought, wanting the same thing. He bent his head and kissed her. And it was like no kiss they’d ever shared before. Tender, questioning. Full of wonder and shy exploration and aching softness.

He drew away and cupped her face in his hands to search her wide misty eyes. “Come and have supper at the Run tomorrow night,” he invited quietly. “I’ll cook.”

Her mouth gaped. “Supper?”

“Yes. Only that.” He reached down and pulled her clothing up, dressing her like a doll. “No more lovemaking for a while. I want to get to know you. What you feel. What you think. What you want from life.”

Her body tingled. “Those are deep thoughts.”

“Yes, aren’t they.” He fastened the top button of her blouse. “And in the meantime, it would help if you’d stop letting me undress you.”

“I tried,” she said with a faint smile.

He sighed. “Yes. I tried, too, but the feel of you does unexpected things to my brain. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It was so beautiful,” she said without meaning to.

“Oh, God, yes,” he ground out. He caught one of her hands and carried the palm reverently to his lips. “You’ve never done that sort of thing with anyone except me, have you?”

She shook her head. “I never wanted anyone else’s hands...” She bit her lip and lowered her eyes.

He tilted her face up to his. “Neither did I,” he said.

She searched that weathered face pensively, curiously.

His finger brushed the line of her lips. “I haven’t slept with a woman in five years.”

It was like a jolt of electricity going through her body. Her eyes dilated, and she gaped at him. “Five years?”

He nodded. “So you see, there’s been no one else for me, either, Priscilla.”

Tears bled from her eyes. She couldn’t help them. “But you’re a man,” she whispered.

“I didn’t feel like much of a man after the way I cut you up,” he confessed, handing her a clean handkerchief. “I had a mental block about sex. I even tried once.” He laughed mirthlessly. “She wasn’t an understanding woman, and that made it worse. She laughed.”

She went into his arms and held him, burying her face in his neck. “Who was she?” she ground out. “I’ll kill her!”

His arms contracted. “Jealous?”

“Furious. How could she do that to you?”

He drew in a slow breath. “You’re still very innocent in some ways,” he reminded her.

“I’d never do that,” she said fervently.

“I know. If I were totally impotent, I imagine you’d find some way to make me feel like a man again, wouldn’t you?”

She lifted her face and looked into his eyes. He understood the question there.

“No,” he responded softly. “I’m not impotent. Not with you.”

She smiled shyly and lowered her eyes to his chest.

“If you’d like me to prove it,” he offered, “I’d be only too glad to oblige.”

This was the old teasing John Sterling she remembered from her teens, the man she’d worshipped and grown to love. Not the distant stranger of past weeks and years. It must have been a barren life for him, if he’d had no one since Janie Weeks. Janie. Her eyes clouded. She wanted desperately to ask him about the divorcée, to ask if it had hurt when she deserted him. Did he still feel anything for Janie? But she was too unsure of him to ask such a personal question. Instead she forced her eyes up to his and smiled softly.

“What would you do if I said yes, go ahead?” she asked.

He chuckled softly. “I’d find some excuse to go home. I don’t want to take your virginity in the front seat of a Land Rover, if it’s all the same to you. I’m too old for impatient groping.”

Her eyes measured the size of the seat and the size of his body and she laughed softly. “No, I guess it would be impossible.”

“Sweet innocent,” he sighed, touching his mouth to hers, “we could do it sitting up, didn’t you know?”

She flushed from her hairline down to her breasts, and he looked at her and laughed so delightedly, she couldn’t even get angry.

“I’ll drive you home, darling,” he said gently. “I don’t want you catching cold.”

He moved her beside him but held her arm when she tried to go back to her own side of the vehicle.

“No,” he protested. “Stay close.”

She didn’t argue. She pressed herself against his side and closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his stained shirt with a soulful sigh.

His arm contracted as he started the vehicle and put it in gear with his free hand. “I’ve ruined your blouse,” he remarked as he pulled back onto the track.

“I don’t mind,” she answered.

“When we do this again, I’ll make sure I’ve cleaned up first. I went off half-cocked about your pommy friend and didn’t even consider how I looked,” he laughed.

“You were looking for me?” she asked.

He chuckled softly. “I thought I’d probably find you at the creek. You spend quite a lot of time brooding there, don’t you?”

“I like to watch the birds.”

He kissed her forehead lightly. “Yes, I know.”

It took only a few short minutes to get to her parents’ home, and she drew away from him with all-too-obvious reluctance.

“I meant what I said,” he repeated. “No more lovemaking for a while. We’re going to learn about each other in less physical ways.”

That was promising and rather exciting. She smiled at him with a little of her old spirit. “Afraid I might seduce you, John?” she teased gently.

He caught her hand and held it to his lips. “Yes,” he admitted, and he didn’t smile. “And deathly afraid I might seduce you. So we’ll cool it for a while. All right?”

“All right.” She glanced at him one last time and got out of the Land-Rover. He studied her warmly for a long minute.

“What was the pommy telling you?” he asked finally.

She grinned at him. “That he had a date with the girl he’s dying of love for, and how happy he was.”

He grimaced. “Well, as long as he’s not after you, I suppose he’s safe enough. I’ll pick you up about six tomorrow.”

“I could drive over—” she began.

“I’ll pick you up about six,” he returned firmly. “I don’t want you on the roads alone at night.”

He backed out of the driveway before she could make any remarks about being liberated and able to take care of herself. And as she went inside she couldn’t help thinking how nice it felt to be cared for, protected. But what was he after now? He’d said he didn’t want to seduce her. Did that mean that he was beginning to feel something for her after all? Her heart raced wildly. Her eyes closed. And if he was, did she dare take the risk a second time? That nagging thought weighed on her mind all night.

Chapter Eleven

It was an unexpected treat to find the twins, as well as John, dressed to the hilt when they all came to get Priscilla the next evening. She was wearing the same white gauzy creation she’d worn several nights before, and John admired it.

“I like that,” he complimented.

She grinned. “I haven’t gone shopping in quite a while, so it will just have to do.”

“Have fun, darling,” Renée said from the door.

“We’ll have her home by midnight,” John promised as he helped her into the Ford.

“Dinkum, we will!” Gerry called out the window.

Priss looked over the back seat at the terrible twins. Gerry was wearing a blue suit, Bobby a brown one, and they did look elegant.

“I’d never have believed it,” she told them with pursed lips. “You’re both very handsome.”

“Uncle John is, too, isn’t he?” Gerry pressed her.

She surveyed John as he climbed in the front seat. He was dressed in a tan safari suit, his head was bare, and he looked as rugged as the country he lived in.

“Yes, he is,” Priss commented absently, studying him. “Very handsome, indeed.”

He lifted an eyebrow and smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Johnson,” he responded dryly. “I must say, you look lovely yourself.”

She smiled back and started to settle herself on the seat, when he laid his big arm over the back of it and stared at her.

“Come here, love,” he said in a voice that made her toes curl.

She eased closer without a single protest and felt the reassuring warmth and strength of his body with surging delight.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured as he started the Ford and eased it into gear. “Tell Priss what we’re having for supper, boys,” he called into the back seat.

“We’re having steak and salad!” Gerry said.

“And apple pie for afters,” Bobby added.

“And homemade rolls!” Gerry interrupted. “Uncle John did them all alone!”

“When I was a boy, the cook we hired on for the shearing gang used to go on benders at the damnedest times,” he explained as they drove toward the Run in the moonlit darkness. “I learned to pinch-hit in self-defense.” He looked down at her. “Men work harder when they’ve been fed.”

“Do they?” she questioned, smiling up at him.

His arm tightened, and she sighed. Minutes later he pulled up in front of the Colonial-style house and the boys piled out quickly, racing for the porch.

John helped Priss get out and then stiffened at the haunting doglike howl that echoed beyond the outbuildings.

“A dingo,” he growled.

“But doesn’t the dingo fence keep them out?” she asked, recalling the miles and miles of fence around the sheep-raising country in the state of Queensland, along the New South Wales border and into western Australia. It was something of an international legend.

“Not entirely,” he informed her. “We still have to hunt them down occasionally.”

She shivered as the sound came again.

“They rarely attack people,” he told her, drawing her close at his side. “Besides, love, I’d never let anything hurt you.”

“Yes, I know,” she murmured. She let her eyes half close as they walked. Those were the sweetest steps she’d taken in five long years.

In no time, they were seated at the long elegant dinner table Mrs. Sterling had imported from England, enjoying the succulent steak John had cooked.

“You’re very good at this,” Priss praised when they’d worked their way through to the apple pie.

“Necessity,” he explained with a smile. “I can think of things I’d rather do than cook.”

“How’s your mother?” Priss asked then.

“Doing very well. She tells me she’s dating a financier.” He glanced up. “I expect she may marry him.”

“Will you mind?”

He shook his head. “She’s entitled to some happiness.”

“Uncle John, can we be excused?” Gerry asked as he finished off his apple pie. “There’s this dinkum movie on about the outback...”

“Go ahead,” John told them. “Don’t put the volume up too loud, though,” he added.

“Sure!” Bobby agreed. “We’ll be quiet as mice,” he promised as they rushed off into the living room.

“They’ve changed a lot in the past week,” Priss noted.

“Yes, I’ve seen it. I think when Randy and Latrice work out their problems, things will be better all around.” He sat back with a glass of white wine he’d just poured, and sipped it casually. “Did you mean what you told me the other day—that you were planning to go back to Hawaii?”

She studied the tablecloth. “At the time, I did.”

“And now? After yesterday?”

She looked up into his serene, steady gaze and felt her heart do cartwheels in her chest. “I don’t know that I could leave now.”

He searched her eyes for a long moment. Then he put the wineglass down. “Do you feel you could live in Australia for the rest of your life, without regretting it?”

“I planned that from the day my family came here,” she said, curious about where the conversation was heading.

But he changed the subject abruptly. “How does your father like having you at the school with him?”

She laughed. “He likes it a lot. He says now he has someone to sit with at lunch. I love my parents,” she related quietly. “They’ve been everything to me.”

“I’m rather fond of them myself,” he concurred.

“John, what was your father like?” she asked as she sipped her own wine.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. All I have is my mother’s memory of him. And she worshipped the ground he walked on.” He stared blankly at his wineglass. “I was only a toddler when he died. Randy was newborn. Neither of us ever knew him. He was killed by a brumby.”

“That’s a wild horse, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He put the glass down. “I’ve often wondered how things might have gone if he’d lived. Randy and I were never close, until this crisis came up. Mother...” He laughed. “You know Mother. She likes her independence. I grew up not liking ties. It’s been hard for me to change. To get used to the idea of answering to another human being.”

She supposed he meant to Randy, since his brother had taken over the station. She put down her wineglass and dabbed at her full lips with the napkin.

“I suppose it was the other way with me,” she replied. “I was loved and indulged and protected. Oh, my parents disciplined me along the way, but I was never allowed to learn things by experience.”

“Except with me,” he mused, watching her.

She smiled slowly. “Except with you.” She looked up into his broad tanned face wonderingly. “Why did you put up with me?”

“You were a beautiful girl,” he said simply. “Like sunshine to be around. Full of life and joy and delightful warmth. I enjoyed being with you, even before I discovered what it was like to want you in any physical way.”

“Did you want me before that afternoon I left for college?” she queried, but she couldn’t manage to meet his eyes as she asked the question.

“Remember the morning you came running across the paddock barefoot?” he asked, smiling at the memory. “To show me the scholarship you’d won?”

“Yes,” she said.

“That was the first time. I looked at you and had a sudden, and rather frightening, reaction to you.” He stroked his wineglass as if it were a woman’s body, but he was looking across the table at Priss. “I was trying to decide what to do about it when you started avoiding me.” His eyes fell to the table. “I didn’t quite know how to handle that. It disturbed me greatly.”

She felt her nerves tingle with pleasure as she studied his broad chest. He looked up then, his eyes mysterious and vividly blue in his craggy face as he viewed her.

“Then I came out to the house to ask why, to say good-bye. And I kissed you.” His eyebrows lifted, and he smiled wickedly. “It was meant to be just a kiss, for good-bye. But once I started, you see, I found that I couldn’t stop. You never knew that it was touch and go with me, did you, Priss?” he added meaningfully. “All that saved you was the fear that I might make you pregnant.”

“Terrifying thought!” she murmured, trying to make light of it.

“Not at all,” he countered quietly. “I found myself considering children. And ties. And settling down. And that was when I decided to go to Hawaii and ask you to marry me.” He pushed his chair back. “And then the bottom fell out.”

She didn’t like thinking about that. She heard him come around the table to pull her chair out.

“Let’s go sit in my study,” he suggested. “I could use a brandy, and the boys won’t disturb us in there.”

She got up, her eyes involuntarily going to his face.

“No,” he breathed, looking back with equal urgency. “We can’t. Sure as hell they’d walk in on us, and I don’t want them asking embarrassing questions.”

She flushed. “I wasn’t—” she protested.

“I want it, too,” he ground out. He was standing close enough that the warmth of his body warmed hers, too. He smelled of spicy cologne and soap.

She drew in a steadying breath. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on.” He caught her hand in his and locked his fingers into hers. Big warm fingers, very strong, very capable. She felt lighter than air as he led her along with him. “I missed you,” he confided. “For five years, I didn’t spend a night without thinking about where you were, what you were doing. Who you were with.”

She’d done that, too, but she wasn’t going to admit it. Her pride had taken a hell of a blow already.

“It must have been very hard for you, at first,” she prodded. “Losing the station, I mean.”

“Yes. It cut my pride to ribbons. And Randy had a bit of a superiority complex at the outset. That didn’t help, either.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “I was devastated at first. I all but gave up. There was so little left to lose that I stopped giving a damn.” He led her into the study, leaving the door open, and left her at the couch while he poured brandy into two snifters. “Then Randy got in over his head and came to me for advice. A first,” he added with a faint grin. “I got caught up in the challenge, and we’ve been working well together ever since.”

She stared down at her folded hands. “So everything worked out for the best, anyway.”

“Not quite.” He handed her a snifter and dropped down beside her with his in hand. “I lost you.”

“Was that so bad? You didn’t seem to think so at the time.”

“Someday, at a better time, I’ll tell you all about it. But not tonight.” He slid an arm around her. “Come close, love. Tell me about Hawaii.”

She kicked off her shoes and curled up in the curve of his arm, loving the warm contact. Her head rested on his shoulder and she nuzzled against him.

“There isn’t a lot to tell. I studied hard. I had friends. I went on weekend trips to the other islands, and once I flew to California for summer vacation. I had a marvelous time, but I missed Australia.”

“You never came home, did you?” he probed.

She smiled sadly. “I was afraid I might see you.”

He shifted restlessly. “But the pommy was always around, wasn’t he?”

“Ronald was my best friend,” she confirmed. “I’m very fond of him. He was there when I needed someone to cry on. But it was only friendship.”

“I thought you loved him,” he said.

She shook her head, feeling the hard muscle of his arm behind her nape. “No. Not even at first.”

“Did you miss me?” he quizzed after a minute. “Or were you too bitter?”

“I was bitter at first. But I got over it,” she lied. “Then I tried not to think about you.”

“Successfully?”

She bit her lower lip. “Sometimes.”

His fingers curved under her chin and nudged it up so he could search her wide, sad green eyes. He caressed the side of her throat with a light pressure that made her pulse go crazy.

“I’d think of you at night sometimes,” he said. “And it would get so bad, I’d climb into my clothes and saddle a horse and ride for hours. And when I got back, tired to the bone and half dead from lack of sleep, I’d lie awake and remember how it felt to cherish your mouth under mine.”

Her lower lip trembled, because it had been that way with her, too.

“I missed you so badly,” he whispered gruffly, bending. “It was like losing part of me.”

His mouth pressed down against hers, cool and moist and tasting of brandy. He kissed her tenderly, lovingly, breaking the taut line of her lips with a lazy coaxing pressure that soon became slow and deep and urgent.

She made a tiny sound in her throat and turned to get closer to him,

“Wait a minute,” he whispered. He stopped long enough to get the brandy snifters out of the way, and then she was in his arms, held close, crushed against his shirt. He kissed her so deeply, that she felt her heart turn over in her breast.

He groaned deeply, forcing her head into the curve of his elbow with the urgency of his need.

She touched his cheek, ran her fingers into his hair. She moaned softly as one big hand moved under her arm and began to lightly stroke the soft flesh there.

“Yes,” she murmured eagerly, moving her body to tempt his fingers onto it.

“No,” he ground out, lifting his head. He was breathing roughly, and his eyes devoured her, but he put her away from him. “No more. I can’t handle this.”

He got to his feet, running his fingers through his blond-streaked hair, breathing heavily. His back was to her as he stared out the darkened window and stretched to ease the tension in his body.

She sat up, gnawing her lip, wondering at his self-control.

“You always could do that,” she commented on a nervous laugh.

He turned, frowning. “Do what?”

“Pull away. Stop before things got out of control.” Her eyes fell. “I was never able to draw back.”

“You were an innocent. I wasn’t.” He laughed softly. “And I had plenty of practice controlling my urges when I was with you. All I had to do was hum Brahms’s lullaby to myself.”

“I might not have gotten pregnant,” she argued.

“I’d have bet the station on it,” he returned shortly. His eyes searched hers, and he smiled. “Did you expect that I’d have stopped with one time?”

Her lips parted on a surprised breath. “Wouldn’t you?” she asked in a whisper.

He shook his head from side to side. “Three or four times by morning, darling,” he said quietly. “At least.”