The Ultimate Choice

by Emma Darcy

  'You will risk your life with me, Kelly?' Justin asked, wanting to hear the words.

  She laughed in sheer happiness. 'Just try and get away from me, Justin St John. I'd fight you every step of the way.'

  He laughed too, a deep rumble of pleasure. 'That I can believe. I shall try not to engage you in battle. You always win anyway.'

  'Mmm…' Her eyes wickedly teased him. 'I think I can be seduced. You're a terribly distracting man. You've got no idea how hard it was to concentrate on giving you physiotherapy.'

  He grinned, and Kelly decided in that instant that he was the most handsome man in the whole world… handsome and beautiful and wonderful, and all of him miraculously hers!

  'No idea?' he scoffed laughingly. 'I doubt that your concentration was as difficult to maintain as mine. Every time you touched me, I had to block out the urge to make love to you there and then, and to hell with the consequences.'

  His hands ran down her body with savouring possessiveness. 'And every time I watched you ride, I wanted to drag you off the horse and kiss you until you were senseless with wanting me and nothing else.'

  Kelly sobered as she remembered the torment she had given him. 'I won't go show-jumping again, Justin.'

  'Yes, you will,' he retorted determinedly. 'You loved taking those jumps on Rasputin this afternoon. And I won't make a prison of our marriage, Kelly. Your pleasure will be mine. And if ever we get my leg right again, I'll go riding with you. Be damned if I'll let fear dictate our lives. We'll do everything together.'

  She smiled her delight up at him. 'Well, I'm certainly going to keep working on that leg… in between the times when you simply must make love to me. But as for the rest, I'm going to be very busy having babies, Justin. I always planned on having lots of children once I got married.'

  He raised a slightly sceptical eyebrow. 'You did, did you?'

  'Yes. And if I have to fight you for them, I will.'

  His eyes sparkled with anticipation. 'I think I can be seduced. I rather fancy a lot of children myself.'

  Kelly glowed with her love for him. 'We'll have polo players and show-jumpers and sheep breeders, and…' An idea struck her. 'You know what, Justin? I think Rasputin would make as great a sire as Octavian Augustus the Fourth. If I mate him with Rapunzel…'

  Justin laughed, and Kelly thought what a wonderful, free, rippling sound it was. She had not heard him really laugh until tonight. She vowed to make him laugh more often.

  He hugged her close. 'I love you more than I'll ever be able to tell you,' he said on a deep sigh of contentment.

  She hugged him even tighter. 'I'll remember this moment all the days of my life,' she breathed happily. 'I didn't know what bound me to you, but now I do. It was the promise of what love could be. I'll always love you, Justin.'

  And once more they kissed, losing themselves in each other, celebrating the joy of becoming one in mind and heart and spirit.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  They were married a month later.

  Despite Justin's misgivings, Kelly blithely withdrew from pursuing her chances as a competitor in the World Cup. She was far too busy to want to go show-jumping. There were preparations for the wedding, a honeymoon to be planned, clothes to buy and Justin's family to meet. And, as much as she loved riding Rasputin, that love came a very poor second to spending every available moment with the man who had only to look at her to send her heart soaring with happiness.

  The St John family was delighted that Justin had finally found a woman he wanted to marry, and if any one of them held some reservation about the age difference between the prospective bride and groom, a few minutes' observation of their radiant delight in each other was enough to dispel any doubt about the wisdom of their marriage.

  The wedding was held on the terraced lawns at Marian Park. The magnificent gardens were in summer bloom. The day scintillated with sunshine and benevolence from all who gathered to witness the nuptial celebrations. Justin's guests were mightily complemented by every man, woman and child who had any claim to belonging to the Crooked Creek community. It was the most festive occasion that anyone in the district could remember.

  Judge Moffat performed the ceremony.

  He had rehearsed every line of the marriage service with his wife, perfecting the proper resonance of every phrase, sharpening every nuance of the words to give each its full measure of meaning and importance. Everyone from Crooked Creek thought he gave a grand rendition of the traditional lines that joined Kelly Hanrahan and Justin St John as man and wife in the eyes of God and all His creation.

  It was the very popular opinion that Kelly had done them all proud, marrying the new owner of Marian Park. She was one of them. And she would make Justin St John one of them. It would be like Henry Lloyd's time all over again.

  Their congratulations to the bride and groom resounded with sincerity.

  Kelly looked heart-wrenchingly beautiful in her bridal gown and veil. And Justin St John was not a bad-looking man either, even though he was a good few years older than her. The general opinion was that he scrubbed up very well. A fine fellow. And no doubt about him thinking the world shone out of Kelly. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.

  'A fine wedding!' Judge Moffat proclaimed afterwards to the grandfather of the bride, his voice honed to a rich roll by the demands of the day, his face more florid than usual from an accumulated consumption of the best French champagne.

  'And he's a fine man,' his old friend asserted, nodding solemnly towards Justin St John. 'It's got me thinking… maybe we shouldn't have done it, Judge.'

  'Now, Michael…' The judge eyed him gravely. 'We can't be mixing principles up with personalities. We did the right thing. All of Crooked Creek was agreed on it. And what's done is done. Anyway, the Russians will still get better than they'll ever produce naturally. Lambs that will grow the best wool the Russians have ever seen. No doubt about it. And we saved the best bloodline for our own country.'

  'That's true, Judge. Guess I'm going soft in my old age.' A reminiscent grin spread over his face. 'We did plan it well, didn't we? Taking Octavian Augustus the Fourth to distract attention from the real operation. No one even thought of checking the cryogenic unit to see if the artificial insemination straws had been replaced.'

  A smug chuckle issued from the judge's throat. 'Well, it was handy that Uncle Tom's, nephew is the local vet.'

  'Tom Kennedy sure was a slippery one in his day.'

  'Heart's in the right place, though. Look after your own first. Can't go wrong doing that, Michael,' the judge said with wisdom.

  'Yes, you can!' Michael O'Reilly protested heatedly. 'Kelly and that husband of hers won't leave me alone. Insisted I live up here at Marian Park. Treating me like an old man who can't look after himself. That's wrong!'

  'Well, Michael, you might as well face up to it. I reckon Kelly's got you beaten there.'

  'It's a sad thing… a sad thing when a man has to leave his home of seventy years. But you're right. She's got me beaten.'

  The judge searched for a way to cheer up his old friend. Inspiration came with a burst of triumph. 'Think of next spring, Michael! We'll be wearing smiles with every Iamb born around Crooked Creek. Nothing beaten about that! We won. We may never be able to brag about it… except to ourselves… but we won!'

  And that glorious thought brought broad smiles to their faces and they toasted each other with the best French champagne.

  The months rolled by: summer into autumn, autumn into winter, winter into spring… and with the spring a child was born to Kelly and Justin St John. A son, whom they named Henry Lloyd. He had black hair, a dimple in his chin, and green eyes, and he promptly enslaved both parents for life.

  It was not the only birth celebrated that spring.

  On every sheep farm around Crooked Creek there was a fall of lambs that were remarkable for the fine quality of their wool. Lots of people wore very broad smiles. Octavian Augustus the Fourth was toasted as the prince of sires.

  In th
e stables at Marian Park, Rapunzel gave birth to a black foal, who seemed to think that ordinary walking was a waste of time. He pranced and jumped and put Rasputin's nose out of joint with his competitive antics.

  The seasons rolled into years that moved inexorably on to other years. Marian Park prospered… sheep stud… horse stud… and five children were born-Henry, Noni, Suzanne, Michael, and Christine-all fired with the desire to carry on the traditions that had grown up around their family home.

  They gathered in the drawing-room each night after dinner to ask questions and be together. Even the baby of the family was included in this hour, although she invariably fell asleep on her greatgrandfather's chest. He often fell asleep too, but Pa was very old, so nobody minded that. Everyone knew he was reserving his energy to outlive Judge Moffat.

  'Daddy, who is the lady in the picture above the fireplace?' Michael asked one night.

  'That's Noni Lloyd,' Justin answered quietly. 'Someone your mother and I loved very much,' he added, flicking a smile at his wife.

  'She taught me how to ride,' Kelly put in.

  'Why don't we have a picture of Mummy up there?' Michael said critically.

  'Because no artist could paint a picture of your mother that was perfect, and we wouldn't be satisfied with less, would we?' Justin reasoned. 'We'd sit here and say, it doesn't show how her face lights up when she smiles, or the way her eyes grow warm when she gives you a cuddle, or all the things we see when we look at her.'

  They all looked at her with such judgemental faces that Kelly laughed.

  'You're right, Dad,' Henry declared. 'An artist wouldn't have a hope.'

  'Tell us a story, Daddy,' Suzanne urged as she climbed on to his knee. 'The one when Mummy took Rasputin…'

  'And you tried to stop her,' Michael crowed delightedly.

  'And she jumped Rasputin bareback, right over the gate where you were standing,' Noni pressed eagerly.

  'And eventually won the World Championship,' Henry added with filial pride.

  'Go on, Dad,' they all urged.

  Kelly rolled her eyes. Justin laughed. He had told the story so many times, the children knew it by heart, but somehow it never lost its magic for them.

  'Well, you must remember that Rasputin was a real rogue in those days,' he started, frowning with worry as he was supposed to at this point. 'Not the placid old fellow we put out to graze now. No one could handle him…'

  'Except Mum,' Henry put in with a wide grin. He was very much her son, and they shared a special rapport.

  'That big black stallion was a mighty strong horse, with a will of its own,' Justin continued. 'And there was your mother, telling me he was a dream to ride. She was fighting mad that night, I can tell you…'

  All the children grinned at that. Many a time they'd seen their mother fighting mad when they hadn't done what she'd told them. They could picture the scene perfectly.

  The story went on, embellished by the children if Justin left out the slightest detail. Kelly watched her husband as he related it all again-tailoring it into the kind of story that legends are made of- yet there was so much more to it than he ever told…the emotions that had churned through them that night… the misunderstandings… their first kiss, which had been meant to frighten her but had turned into something completely different.

  Their first kiss…

  Her eyes softened with the love that had grown richer with every year. Her gaze swept slowly around their children-each one special in his or her own right-the future she had planned with Justin so long ago. And it had been all she had wished for and more. She sighed happily as she thought of the years still ahead of them.

  Justin heard her sigh and glanced at her. Their eyes caught and locked, and for one heart-leaping moment there were only the two of them… together… discovering the bond again… and knowing the promise was true for all eternity.

  And much later that night, Justin held her in his arms, caressing her body with featherlight fingertips. Kelly shivered with pleasure and hugged him closer. Justin kissed her hair.

  'Kelly, I should have asked you…' he murmured. 'Would you like your portrait painted?'

  She nestled her head contentedly over his heart. 'I liked your answer to the children better.'

  'It's true, you know. Every time I look at you, there's more about you that I love. I don't want a portrait of you, Kelly. I want you.'

  'I know,' she said. 'And the portrait of Noni belongs there, Justin. It's part of us, part of Marian Park…'

  'Yes. Tonight I was remembering the first time I kissed you.'

  'So was I.' Kelly smiled.

  'At the time I thought… just this once.'

  'Did you really?'

  'Mmm. Very foolish thought.'

  And he rolled her on to her back and set about kissing her again. Very thoroughly. And Kelly felt a great surge of love for this man who cherished her so much. So it would always be, she thought blissfully.

  She remembered having once said that all life was a risk. And in a way it was true. But not this part.

  Not her love for Justin, or his for her. That was rock-solid until the end of time.

  Emma Darcy

  Wendy was born on November 28 in Australia. She obtained an Honours degree in Latin. Her ambition to be an actress was partly satisfied by playing in amateur theater productions. Initially a teacher of French and English, she changed her career to computer programming before her marriage with Frank Brennan and her motherhood settled her into a community life. Her creative urges were channeled into oil painting, pottery, designing and overseeing the construction and decorating of two homes, all in the midst of keeping up with three lively sons and the very busy social life of her businessman husband.

  Voracious readers, the step to writing their own books seemed a natural progression and the challenge of creating wonderful stories was soon highly addictive. With their strong interest in people and relationships, the marriage found the world of romance fiction a happy one. In 1983, they published their first novel as Emma Darcy, and now average six new books per year.

  In 1993, in the Emma Darcy's 10th anniversary, Wendy and Frank Brennan created the "Emma Darcy Award Contest" to encourage authors to finish their manuscripts. It had a prize of $2,000 and a guarantee that the manuscript would be seen by an acquiring editor.

  Wendy Brennan's life journey has taken as many twists and turns as those of the characters in her stories, whose popularity worldwide has resulted in 60 million books in print. Since 1995, when Frank Brennan died, Wendy writes the novels on her own. Her conviction that we must make all we can out of the life we are given keeps her striving to know more, be more, give more, and this is reflected in all her books. Currently, she has broadened her horizons and begun to write mainstream women's fiction. Other new directions include her most recent adventures of blissfully breezing around the Gulf of Mexico from Florida to Louisiana in a red Ford Mustang convertible, and risking the perils of the tortuous road along the magnificent Amalfi Coast in Italy.

  Wendy Brennan is currently living on a beautiful country property in New South Wales, she has moved from country to city to towns and back to country, sporadically indulging her love of tropical islands with numerous vacations.

  ***

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