by Margaret Way
‘My entire childhood and adolescence lacked wholeness,’ she said, painfully aware that was so. ‘I think I’ll be content once I know who my real father is. I can watch him without his being aware of it.’
‘What if you’re not? What if you’re impelled to go up to him and tell him he’s your father? He’d have to remember your mother so he’d have to know who you are. You resemble her greatly.’
‘Clearly I resemble her physically, but not in other ways,’ Carrie said, carefully. ‘I can’t believe she’s lied to me all these years. Couldn’t she have concocted another story? Couldn’t she have married someone else but Bruce McNevin? He’s a mean man at heart. How could anyone disavow a baby, a little girl, a dutiful daughter?’
‘It’s no excuse, but I suppose he felt tremendously insecure about your mother,’ Clay suggested. ‘She’s obviously never loved him.’
‘Then why didn’t she divorce him?’ Carrie shot back.
‘I can’t find an acceptable answer, Caroline.’ He stared at her, his eyes full of compassion. ‘Who knows what goes on inside a marriage anyway? He must have been doing something right.’
‘Not by me! But he thought he was the perfect husband. I’ve even heard him say so.’ Carrie picked up her coffee mug again. ‘This is good.’
‘When did you last eat?’ he asked, his eyes moving over her inch by inch.
‘Breakfast.’ She shrugged. ‘I was coming in for lunch when my whole life was shattered. Soon as I heard their voices I knew something awful was going to happen. I think he’s actually relieved it’s all out in the open. He no longer has to pretend.’
‘Should I ring your mother and tell her you’re with me?’
‘No, Clay, no!’ She laid a restraining hand on his tanned arm.
‘Whatever she’s done or had to do she loves you, Caroline. She’ll be frantic.’
‘Don’t worry, she won’t kill herself,’ Carrie said, her voice as dry as ash. ‘She knows where I am anyway. I mightn’t have told her, but she’ll guess. Even my dear old ex-father, guessed I was heading here. That’s three ex’s in my life. Ex-mother, ex-father, ex-fiancé.’
‘Your mother’s always your mother, Caroline,’ he said. ‘Nothing’s going to change that.’
Carrie released the gold clasp at her nape so her hair fell heavily around her face. ‘Do you realise if all this miserable business with Scott hadn’t happened I probably would never have found out?’
‘It has occurred to me,’ Clay said, thinking however desperate she felt she looked absolutely beautiful. The purity and symmetry of her small features transcended mere prettiness.
‘We’ve all been living a lie,’ she said in a melancholy voice. ‘I could have married Scott in a few weeks’ time.’
‘I imagine Natasha would have had something to say about that,’ he said dryly.
‘Lord, you’d think the accident and all the stress would have triggered a miscarriage.’
‘You didn’t want that to happen?’
‘Oh, my God, no. Dear God, no,’ Carrie said. ‘Natasha’s tough and her baby’s tough. They’ll have to be. Do you mind my burdening you with all this?’
‘Mind, how? Haven’t you applied for the position of my wife? I have your application—which I will frame—in my pocket.’ There was tenderness on his face and a shadow of physical yearning kept under tight control.
‘Well, I don’t much care for anyone else,’ she said. ‘So what’s the answer? Or do you want to hear from more women?’ She didn’t realise it but she sounded incredibly anxious.
‘Yours was the winning application,’ he said.
‘The only application.’
‘I won’t hold it against you. Now as soon as we settle you in I’ll have to think about feeding you. By a stroke of good fortune I stocked up the last time I was in town.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry, thank you all the same, Clay.’
‘Well I am.’ He stood up. ‘I won’t feel happy eating alone. And now I think of it, you didn’t mention in your application if you could cook?’
‘And you didn’t ask.’ She smiled weakly. ‘I can cook. My mother taught me. I’ll never be as good as her. You know he didn’t want a housekeeper. We have Mrs. Finlay from town come in once a week to do the cleaning. He didn’t want anyone but Mum I can see that now. And Mum acted as though she owed him. What for? For his marrying her when she was pregnant? Is that what Natasha will have to settle for?’
‘Don’t upset yourself,’ Clay said. ‘Harper and Natasha will have to solve their own problems.’
Carrie’s heart stuttered.
She sat straight up in bed, saying shakily, ‘Who’s there?’
She looked about her in a dazed panic. Where was she?
She waited for full consciousness to kick in. Thank God! She was at Jimboorie with Clay. He had given up his bed for her, a brand-new king-sized ensemble, electing to spend the night in the massive four poster—too big to ever be shifted—in the bedroom just across the hall. They had shared a bottle of red wine over a dinner of tender beef fillet, tiny new potatoes and asparagus—all cooked to perfection by him—and the alcohol had soothed her sending her off to sleep.
The effects had evaporated. She didn’t know what time it was but something had awoken her. She willed her memory back to an image.
A slow opening door? A shape of a woman? She was sure it was a woman. Jimboorie House was haunted. Clay’s mother had seemed to think so.
Calm down, fool that you are.
Hold down panic. Control the mind. It was only a dream.
She lifted a glass of water from the bedside table; sipped at it, panning her eyes around the huge room, listening intently for the slightest sound. Outside in the night, a full moon was riding high in the indigo sky, its rays washing the room with a silvery light. But it was impossibly dark in the far corners. A strangeness seemed to be in her and at that moment a supreme wakefulness. She didn’t quite know how to handle it. Or herself. One thing she did know with absolute certainty was, she couldn’t lie in the semidarkness anymore. She couldn’t bear to be alone, either. She wanted love. Plenty of it.
She rose from the bed in that unquiet night, catching the scent of gardenia that wafted from her nightgown She always used gardenia sachets amid her under garments and nightgowns. Her Thai silk robe bought in Bangkok was at the end of the bed, the white background scattered with bright red poppies, the edges bound with ebony. She slipped it on, tying the sash loosely. Her heart was aching afresh as the events of the day flooded back to her mind.
At long last she knew what her inner being had always suspected—the man whose name she bore wasn’t her father. All he was, was her mother’s husband. Twenty-three years of lying. Could she ever forgive her mother for that? Slowly she made her way across the room, heart fluttering, keeping to the band of moonlight.
What was her excuse for going to him? What would she say when he woke to find her standing beside his bed, staring down at him?
Love me, Clay. I desperately need to be loved.
Need had overtaken her entirely. She felt no embarrassment. just the driving need for comfort that only he seemed able to give.
His door was open. Carrie could hear his gentle, even breathing. She glided as silently as a shadow across the floor towards that massive bed. His naked back was turned to her, one shoulder raised high. She loved the shape of him, the shape of his broad shoulders, the way his strong arms could enfold her. She loved everything about him. And she wanted to learn more. Fate had carried her here to this moment, to this beautiful man. Her life had slipped out of focus. He had the power to put it back in place.
She held her flowing hair back with her hand. ‘Clay!’
She thought he might take moments to stir but he was instantly alert.
‘God, Caroline!’ Fast breathing now. He sat up, thrusting a hand through his hair. ‘I was dreaming about you.’
‘Isn’t it better I’m here?’ She let her voice fall to a
whisper.
‘Did something frighten you?’ he asked, with concern. ‘I could have sworn you’d sleep through the night.’
‘Isabelle’s ghost,’ she said and even laughed. ‘She must walk around the house at full moon. May I get into bed with you?’
‘Caroline.’ Instantly he was aroused, every nerve throbbing. He dared not think what would happen if she did. ‘You know what that means?’ he managed to say. ‘I couldn’t possibly resist you. I just couldn’t. I’m not strong enough.’
‘But I don’t want you to resist me,’ she said. ‘I want you to touch me. I want to touch you.’ She reached out and moved her fingers, gently, slowly, over his broad chest letting them tangle in the fine mat of hair.
Clay felt his blood come to a rolling boil. ‘Caroline!’ he said, taking hold of her wrists. ‘What are you trying to do to me?’
‘You want me, don’t you?’
I want you to be mine forever! ‘It’s for your protection,’ he said, valiantly holding her off, at the same time desperately trying to exert the full force of his will. ‘I would let you stay with me. I want nothing more in the world than have you stay with me, but I’m worried. I’m worried about you. What might happen.’
‘Stop worrying,’ she said, pulling away from him gently, to slide off her robe. Then she clambered onto the high bed. ‘Can’t you understand, Clay. I need loving.’
Why tell him that when he was wild for her! The very enormity of having her there in the bed beside him, inhaling her fragrance, all but robbed him of his precious self-control.
‘So you’re going to allow me to take your virginity?’ He was already utterly aroused and unable to do a damn thing about it.
‘Isn’t that your wish?’
‘I want you to give it to me. I don’t want to steal it from you. I care about you too much.’
‘Well, I can’t wait,’ she said. ‘I thought I wanted to wait. I could have waited easily with Scott. But not with you. It’s not all about sex, Clay,’ she said reaching out to stroke his face. ‘I want you. I need you. It’s as simple as that.’
‘And it has to be this very night, my little runaway Caroline?’ he asked with immense tenderness, staring down at her.
‘Only you can save me from the pain.’
The blood rushed to his head. She thought herself safe with him. She was. But he had to be so gentle when the adrenaline was roaring through his body. He tried to slow himself down by kissing first the side of her neck, then the exquisite little hollow in her throat, moving back to her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, then her lovely mouth. He kissed her again and again, until they were both light-headed, his hands moving irresistibly to her breasts, creamy like roses, their pink tips flaring at his touch. While she moaned softly he let his hand slide down over the smooth tautness of her stomach, downward yet to her secret sex.
Her mouth formed words. She exhaled them.
‘My true love,’ she said.
It was an utterance that reached right through to Clay’s soul.
And he was gentle with her, his fingers feathering over her, his mouth following…
‘Do you like that?’ He wasn’t going to do a thing that didn’t give her pleasure.
‘Perfect!’ she moaned, her back arching off the bed.
‘You are so beautiful!’ He turned her over, making long strokes over her satiny back, cupping her buttocks so smooth and round, pressing his lips to them…
She was yearning for him to move into her, her body was demanding release, but he continued to work his magic on her, inch by inch.
She kept her eyes closed tight.
When he gently worked her clitoris, she made a wild strange sound, like a bird keening. The sensuality was profound. Wonderful and unbearable at the same time. She was panting and gasping with excitement, reaching for him frantically, guiding him to the entrance of her sex.
‘Yes!’ she cried, overcome by the extraordinary piercing sensations that were running riot in her body. She couldn’t control them. They were controlling her.
Clay drew back, laying his palms flat on the bed to either side of her. ‘I’ll be as gentle as I can,’ he vowed.
‘You’re a magician,’ she whispered back.
‘Am I?’
‘Yes!’ She was desperate for him to push into her. To fill her.
There was a twinge of pain. No more. Then a spreading rapture like life giving rain spreading over the flood plains.
‘You’re okay?’ he whispered urgently against her cheek, striving to keep his own driving needs reined in.
‘I adore you!’ she cried.
Was there ever an answer that could please a man more? He threw his head back with sheer joy and she arched up to kiss his throat. ‘Adore you. Adore you. Adore you!’
He couldn’t hold back a moment longer. Not after that. Their bodies radiated heat and an incredible energy. The whole room was filled with it. It crackled like live wires.
He plunged into her in an ecstasy of passion and she met that plunge, spreading her silken thighs for him. It thrilled him to the core. She was spreading herself wide-open to him, her soul as naked as her beautiful body. His heart swelled with pride, exultation, and an enormous gratitude. He felt free. Unburdened of the griefs that had long plagued him.
Neither of them held back. They gave of each other unstintingly. At long last they had discovered something they had never known before.
Pure Desire. Pure Love.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLAY and Carrie were coming back from a long ramble down to the creek, when they saw Alicia’s Land Rover make a sweep around the circular driveway and park, bonnet in, to the shade of the trees. There had been a fantastic, wonderfully welcome downpour of rain around dawn, which had awakened them to more glorious lovemaking, and now the whole world was washed clean.
‘It’s Mamma,’ Carrie said, unnecessarily, holding Clay’s hand tight.
‘I’m sure she’s only come to see if you’re all right,’ Clay said, calming her. ‘Take it easy, Caroline. Your mother must be under a lot of stress.’
Alicia was waiting quietly on the terrace.
‘Why have you come, Mamma?’ Carrie started in at once, though her heart smote her at the unhappiness in Alicia’s face.
‘I had to come,’ Alicia said.
‘Please sit down, Mrs McNevin.’ Clay held a chair for her. ‘How are things at home?’
‘Not good, Clay,’ Alicia said, releasing a long sigh. ‘And please call me Alicia.’
‘I’d be happy to,’ Clay said quietly. ‘Let’s all take a seat.’ He put his hand gently on Carrie’s shoulder, exerting the slightest pressure. ‘Would you two like to talk while I make coffee?’
‘I’d be grateful for that, Clay,’ Alicia said.
‘No problem.’ He strode away into the house.
‘What a very considerate young man!’ Alicia said, sighing as though she’d never had the good fortune to meet one in her life. ‘I’m leaving Bruce,’ she told Carrie.
‘Isn’t it about time?’ Carrie asked. ‘You don’t love him, Mum. You’ve never loved him, have you?’
‘Look,’ said Alicia, ‘give him some credit. When I knew I was pregnant with you I was absolutely desperate—’
‘You couldn’t tell Nona?’ Carrie broke in, not understanding her nona was another person to her mother.
‘I didn’t think I could,’ Alicia confessed. ‘Your grandmother had—still has—very definite ideas about how a well-bred young lady should conduct herself. She would have been shocked and bitterly disappointed in me. The scandal would have been enormous. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d been able to marry the father of my child, but I couldn’t.’
‘Then why have an affair with him?’ Carrie asked, sounding stern about it.
‘You’re in love with Clay, aren’t you?’ Alicia made a plea for understanding. ‘You’re in love at last?’
Colour flooded Carrie’s cheeks. ‘Oh please…Clay’s not married.’
‘Which is a damn sight more than I do,’ Carrie interrupted.
‘He noticed me from across the room.’ All these years later Alicia’s beautiful eyes went dreamy.
‘He would. Any man would,’ Carrie said, still in that critical voice.
‘I’d noticed him back. That’s how it started.’
‘Easy as that, eh?’ Carrie’s voice was unwillingly sympathetic. ‘When did you start sleeping together?’
‘When did you start sleeping with Clay?’ Alicia retorted.
‘Last night,’ Carrie admitted freely. ‘And at dawn this morning. It was wonderful! Clay has restored my faith in humanity.’
‘I hope you used protection?’ Alicia went from penitent to concerned mother.
‘I’m not going into details,’ Carrie said. ‘Why have you come, Mamma? Your husband hasn’t threatened you in any way?’ The very thought frightened her.
‘He’s beside himself,’ Alicia said.
‘I’m quite sure he’s blaming me for all this?’ Carrie said.
Alicia passed on the answer. ‘I want you to come with me to Melbourne, darling,’ she said as though it were something both of them simply had to do.
‘Melbourne? What for?’ Carrie started to picture where her mother would go. To friends? To a hotel?
‘For one thing you can’t stay here with Clay,’ Alicia pointed out quietly.
‘Why not?’ Carrie turned squarely on her mother. ‘I’m going to marry him.’
‘And he’ll be a wonderful husband, I know.’ Alicia took the news very calmly. ‘But you want to do it right.’
‘Unlike you!’ Carrie was near tears. But her mother did have a point—Clay was now the owner of Jimboorie Station. He intended to work it. He intended to restore the homestead. He was a Cunningham. If nothing else she had to uphold his reputation. ‘What’s in Melbourne?’ she asked finally.
