But in the few seconds he'd remained motionless, she'd scrambled into jeans and a windcheater straight over the top of her pyjamas. "You're nothing but a heartless pig! I hate you," she flung at him as she ran from the room holding back her tears until she'd raced from the house and into the bush heading down to the river.
"Roo! Come back!" she heard Michael call after her but she ran on, intent only on getting away as fast as she could.
Outside, she noticed the weather had taken an ominous turn. The sky, like her heart, was filled with heavy, black clouds, and already, at the horizon, she could see flashes of lightning and the unmistakable haze of rain. On and on she ran, trying to obliterate from her mind the memory of Michael's admission of his love for Rachel.
She'd thought there was little else Michael could do to hurt her. She'd cried for days after his sudden departure from her flat, and her heart had been leaden as she prayed desperately that he'd return to her. But now even the memory of what she'd thought of as their one beautiful and precious night together had been irreparably smashed by his admission that he'd only been using her to forget his own pain at losing Rachel.
As she trudged on, desperately trying to sort out the terrible mess inside her, the weather turned wilder still, the wind whipping against her, blowing her hair across her face, making walking increasingly difficult. The black clouds now swirled directly overhead and a sheet of rain was falling only kilometres away.
She began to hurry back to the farmhouse. She'd just spent three weeks trying to prove she understood life on the station, and she had no intention of spoiling that now by not having the sense to get inside out of the storm. She knew how ferocious these sudden thunderstorms could be, and she also knew that Michael, however he felt about her and the fact that she'd just told him she hated him, would never leave her out here alone but would come looking for her. She didn't want to expose him to danger as well.
Turning around, she began to hurry back towards the house. She'd followed the river so she had no trouble finding her way, but she was alarmed to see how quickly the waters were rising. There must have been a deluge further up the river, Jill realised, wondering how much further the river was going to rise and whether it would spill its banks.
Leaving the river, she made her way to where the edge of the paddock reached the bush leading to the water. An enormous crack of thunder sounded as a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the murky gloom. The storm was now directly above her and Jill resisted the impulse to go into the open where she could run faster back to the sanctuary of the house. Desperate as she was to be indoors, she knew how dangerous it would be out in the open paddock with the lightning about. Forcing herself to stay calm, she hurried as fast as she could, wrapping her jumper more tightly around her as heavy drops of rain began to fall and almost instantly became a deluge.
She was only a few hundred metres from the house when another bolt of lightning shot from the sky and earthed itself in an old dead tree. Jill watched in horror as the tree was rent in two and came crashing down falling flaming across the fence flattening it against the ground. The ear-splitting boom of thunder accompanying it sent the sheep in the paddock into an hysterical panic. Mindlessly they ran in the direction they were facing, straight for the fallen fence and the rapidly rising river beyond.
Forgetting her own danger, Jill ran at them to try and head them off, but realized at once that it was useless. She needed help, and running as fast as she could, she covered the last stretch back to the homestead.
"Michael!" she screamed above the howling wind and pelting rain. "Michael!" She was hoping against hope that he had not gone searching for her, and when there was no reply from the house she ran to the stables. He would bring the horses inside in this weather, she knew, it was just possible he might still be there.
"Michael," she called again as she hurried through the open door, and to her relief found him doing up the girth on Bushranger's saddle.
"Jill! Thank God you're alright. I was just coming to find you. Why the hell did you run off like that? Get into the house and wait for me. I'm going to tan your arse good and proper this time."
"Later." She dismissed his command with the one word that had come to symbolise their relationship. "A bolt of lightning just brought down a tree and it's taken the fence out. The sheep are all over the place and the river's rising."
"Stay here," he ordered her. "I'll go on Bushranger and take the dogs. You'll be useless on foot anyway and it's too dangerous out there."
But without listening, Jill disappeared into the tack room and returned with a saddle and bridle.
"I'm coming. Don't argue, there's no time," she said before Michael could speak. "Which one should I take?"
Wordlessly, Michael pointed to a stall and watched stunned as Jill expertly saddled and bridled the horse he'd indicated and then led it from the stall.
"Roo," he began, clearly not convinced this was a good idea.
"Don't worry. I can do it. I promise."
"Hang on then," Michael said, taking the reins from her hands. "Grab a sou-wester."
Jill slipped on a waterproof jacket, then took the reins back.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Have a little faith," she grinned. "Come on or we'll lose the sheep."
As she mounted, she again saw Michael's look of admiration as he noted her competence, and then they were off with nothing on their minds but the job before them.
As they passed the dogs' run, Michael quickly dismounted and unclipped their leashes. Then whistling for them to follow, he led the way through the rain to where the sheep were milling in a frightened bunch near the rapidly encroaching river.
"We'll put them in the home paddock for now," he yelled to Jill above the noise of the storm. "I'll go and open the gate. You get behind them and start pushing them slowly towards it. The dogs and I'll take care of the strays."
Jill nodded and steered her horse in a wide berth around the terrified sheep so as not to panic them further, then quickly assessing which seemed to be the natural leaders she moved her horse closer until they began to move in the direction she wanted. Being very careful not to hurry them, she pressed relentlessly forward scarcely aware of Michael and the dogs rushing behind her, darting first this way and then that as they collected in the sheep who were breaking free from the main flock. She could see the gates of the home paddock just in front, now all she had to do was get the leaders through and the rest would follow.
"Come on," she urged them under her breath. "Keep going, just a little further. Come on!"
One of the leaders turned and for a moment the whole flock threatened to miss the gates altogether, but with a quick whirl of her horse she managed to bring them back and then with a thrill of exhilaration she watched them pour through. She kept driving them forward, both to make sure they were well away from the gate and there was no danger they would suddenly turn and escape, and also to ensure Michael and the dogs had a clear run to chase the stragglers through.
When at last she had them a sufficient distance through, she returned to the gates. Dismounting, she took hold of the gate ready to pull it shut when the last of them were in. Peering through the rain she watched Michael and his dogs at work, marvelling as always at how attuned to each other they were. With only the merest sign from Michael, and despite the noise of the storm and the poor visibility, the dogs still seemed to be able to pick up even his slightest order, and they really enjoyed it, she knew. Even in this weather, she doubted if there was anything they would rather be doing than chasing sheep. Now, she thought, her skin tingling from the wind and the rain, her pulses racing with the excitement and danger, and a flush of pride from her own contribution, for the first time, she truly understood how they felt.
It took some time to ensure they had all the sheep securely in the paddock, and Jill was soaked to the skin and beginning to shiver with cold by the time she finally pulled the gate shut and hooked it to the strainer post, making sure it couldn
't break loose, then mounted her horse again.
"That's it," Michael called through the rain, which now seemed to be easing off a bit. "Let's get back."
"Race you," Jill whooped, urging her horse into a gallop.
"Jill! Be careful!" Michael shouted at her, but ignoring him, she put her head down and pushed her horse even harder toward the stables. In a trice, they were overtaken by the huge black stallion as he thundered by, his feet barely touching the ground. By the time she arrived back, Michael was already putting Blue and Rebel back on their chains.
Cold and wet as she was, Jill had learnt that the needs of the horse must always come first, and she set about making sure that hers was warm and comfortable. After removing the saddle and bridle, she found a towel and was giving her mount a good, solid rub down when Michael and Bushranger appeared. After wordlessly taking in what she was doing, he took Bushranger into a stall and began removing his saddle and bridle.
Satisfied that her horse was as warm and dry as possible and in no danger of catching a chill, Jill went into the feed room and made up two hot bran mashes. She tipped one into the trough of the horse she'd ridden and was rewarded with a whicker of delight, then took the other bucket to Bushrangers stall.
"He ready?" she asked Michael, who'd just finished rubbing down the stallion.
"It certainly looks like it," Michael grinned as Bushranger, smelling the warm food, nudged against Jill as he tried to get his nose into the bucket. Jill laughed and playfully pushed away the big horse she'd so recently been terrified of. "Shove over," she told him as she tipped the bucket of feed into his trough. Then patting his shoulder as he bent his neck to reach his head into the bin, she slid past him and out of the stall, pulling the door shut behind her.
Suddenly, now that all was done, she realized how cold and tired she was, and how inviting was the thought of a steaming hot bath.
"Roo," Michael's voice pulled her up. "Why did you say you hate me?"
For an instant, Jill hesitated. How long ago now that seemed. In the excitement and urgency of rescuing the sheep, she'd for the time being, forgotten her early morning coffee with Michael, his admission that he'd used her, her avowal that she hated him, and finally her hurried flight. Suddenly her emotions released themselves as hysterical giggles as she also remembered that underneath her clothes she was still wearing her pyjamas.
"What?" Michael asked angrily, bewildered by her laughter. "Do you think it's funny that you had me sick with worry when the storm broke and you were out in it? Don't you know you could've been killed?"
"Well, I wasn't, was I?" Michael's anger and the fact that he'd grabbed her wrists brought her back to earth with a shock. "I knew it was dangerous, and I came back as fast as I could. I'm not a fool, you know, and I'm not a silly city girl either. Haven't I proved that to you yet? Now, please let me go. I just want to go inside and have a hot bath."
"Okay. You're soaking," Michael said. "Go inside and change. Quickly, before you catch cold. I'll deal with you later."
After soaking luxuriously in a hot tub, then dressing in warm, comfortable track pants and a woolly jumper, Jill realized it was getting on for lunchtime and she still hadn't eaten. She made tea and sandwiches for both of them, expecting that Michael would be in some time for lunch. In fact, her timing was perfect and he arrived not long after she had begun her own meal.
"I made some for you too," Jill said as he came through the door. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"
"No." He sat at the table opposite and accepted the proffered food. "Thanks."
"Did you go out again?" Jill asked as the silence between them became uncomfortably long.
"Yes, I just had a quick look around. Everything seems to be okay. I don't think the river's going to rise much further and all the sheep seem okay now. I think the worst is over. It was a good thing you were out there though, even though you shouldn't have been." On his last words, his eyes met and held Jill's, sending a knowing shiver down her spine. Reaching her bottom, it spread out and settled there. "Why didn't you tell me you could ride?" he continued before she had time to work out whether the implied threat was an idle one.
"It just didn't come up, I guess. I've been riding since Christmas."
"You're pretty good, but not good enough to race in the rain. That was dangerous."
Dangerous. The tingling started afresh and with much greater intensity. But, no. Not this time, Jill thought with an aching heart. He'd told her straight this time that he'd tried to use her to forget Rachel and had failed. She wasn't going to be used again. From the look in his eye, though, he had quite a different idea. What the hell? Jill sighed inwardly. Jack and Elizabeth would be back next week and then she'd leave River Gums and the torment would be over. She just had to make it through one last week, and if this was the price she had to pay, there was no point fighting it.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes." The sigh of resignation was audible this time, and she refused to look at him as she stood and took the hand he was holding out to her. This would be the last time, she kept telling herself over and over. The last time. Just close your eyes, grit your teeth and get it over with.
Michael stopped by the couch in the living room.
"Do you know what's going to happen now?" he asked, tilting Jill's chin up so she had to look at him.
"Yes," she whispered, her heart lurching familiarly as their eyes met, despite the fact that she hated him, had even told him that she hated him.
"What?"
"Don't, Michael," she asked wearily. "You're going to spank me. For running off this morning and riding in the rain, or whatever. I don't want you to, but I haven't got the energy to fight. So if you're going to do it, let's just get it over with without making a song and dance about it."
For the first time she could remember, her words caused him to falter almost imperceptibly, and she saw something in his eyes she'd not seen before—uncertainty, sadness, resignation?
He sat himself on the couch. "Take your pants down, Roo," he ordered quietly. "No matter what's gone between us, I swore to do this and I will do it properly."
Again that muted surprise tinged with uncertainty as Jill, without speaking, pushed her track pants to her knees.
"And your panties."
This time, Jill was sure there was reluctance. Was he pushing her to try to get her to fight the way she usually did? Well, she wasn't playing his games anymore. Still wordlessly despite her thumping heart, she pushed her panties down as well and went over his knee without a murmur when he tugged gently on her hand.
This wasn't the first time she'd thought she was about to get her last spanking, but this must certainly be it. She could avoid it for the next week, and then Michael would be out of her life forever. She didn't mind that he was going to spank her. It no longer mattered. He could spank her as hard and as long as he liked, but the pain he created in her bottom would never come close to the pain he'd created in her heart when he'd told her he'd made love to her only in a futile attempt to forget Rachel. She closed her eyes and waited in surrender.
"You know why I'm going to spank you, don't you, Roo?" Still that uncertainty, that reluctance as though he no longer wanted to go through with the punishment but was doing it out of duty.
Her heart tightened into a hard defensive knot of bitterness. To add insult to the upcoming injury her bottom was about to suffer, she now realised he was not going to enjoy spanking her. He was finding it distasteful.
"Yes, Michael. I shouldn't have gone out in the storm, and I shouldn't have raced back to the stables. It was dangerous and you always spank me if I do anything dangerous." Her voice was flat as she intoned her litany. "I'm ready," she added, wondering how long she could bear the humiliation of being a burden to him. "Please, Michael. Get it over with."
She could feel his tension, feel him steeling himself, feel how difficult it was for him. "I'm sorry," she thought she heard him whisper but it could just have been his shirt sleeve rustling as he r
aised his hand and brought it down in a hard slap. A tiny pause, and then again his hand fell. Another pause. Another slap.
Why was he bothering if it was so difficult for him? Jill asked herself, resentment rising like bile in her throat. She gripped the cushion of the lounge with her fingers, forcing herself to stay perfectly still. She would let him spank her because she knew she couldn't stop him, but she refused to participate at all. The tiny cry each spank elicited from her broken heart was silent.
Another pause. Another smack. Another pause. The waiting, the tension, the expectancy was becoming unbearable.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, you prick!" she cried angrily, unable to take it any longer. "Just get on with it if you're going to, or let me up!"
Her words had the desired effect. His hand came down hard and fast, over and over, alternating between cheeks, causing her to grunt under her breath with the pain, but her body was still.
"I thought I warned you before about swearing at me," Michael scolded as his hand rose and fell, but she could still feel the tension in him. This was new. Something was different for both of them. Her emotional pain and anger acted as a buffer against the physical pain of the spanking, leaving her cold and surrendered. And he was less sure of himself, less in charge somehow, but she didn't know why. Didn't care.
"Why am I a prick, Roo? For spanking you?"
"I… don't care… whether… you spank me… or not," Jill managed to spit out between the blows falling on her now tender bottom. "I hate you."
The spanking stopped immediately. Before she realized what was happening, Jill was hauled upright, but before Michael could pull her onto his lap, she'd broken free and hitching up her pants, ran for the stairs. Michael caught her as she was about to dive into her bedroom and slam the door in his face.
"Why did you run away this morning and why did you say you hate me?" he growled and if he'd been anyone other than Michael, Jill might have felt afraid.
"Just go away and leave me alone," she yelled, trying to pull away from him, but his hand closed about her arm like a vice.
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