Whispers Through the Pines

by Lynne Wilding

  Jessica’s lips tilted into a cynical smile. ‘Marcus Hunter, MLA. That has a nice ring to it. What did you tell this Stan?’

  ‘I said I’d think about it. Actually, I wanted to discuss it with you first. It’s a big step, a very different kind of commitment, but it could be an agreeable challenge. And, of course, island politics isn’t as tough as in Australia or New Zealand. We’re more laidback. Basically, it’s like running a local council which looks after the concerns of a country town and its environs.’

  ‘But what about your teaching? You love to teach, don’t you?’ She watched him nod affirmatively. ‘Perhaps you could teach on a part-time basis at the high school, as well as be a representative of the legislative assembly.’

  ‘That’s possible, I suppose. Many people on the island have more than one job. If I decide to give it a go, that is.’

  Jessica picked up their empty cups and took them out to the kitchen. When she returned to the verandah, she said, ‘Do it, Marcus. You’d be so good at it, I know you would.’

  ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

  She laughed. ‘Of course not.’ She gave it some thought and then said, ‘It’d work out well. I’m considering starting a part-time legal practice here. There are about three practising legal people on Norfolk, so there may be room for one more. And I’ll paint the rest of the time. Which reminds me’—she put a hand in her jeans pocket and pulled out a narrow slip of paper—‘I sold another painting. The owner of the gallery brought the cheque around yesterday.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Jessica. Nan was right. You do have talent, and people are beginning to recognise it.’

  ‘Only time will tell on that score,’ she said modestly.

  ‘And what about your writing? Lisa said you’re going to write Sarah’s story.’

  Jessica’s expression mirrored her surprise that he knew. ‘I can’t start it until it comes to a conclusion. And writing about it, that’s a some-time-in-the-future project.’

  ‘Sounds as if you’ve got things all figured out, and plenty to do as well.’

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him come over to where she stood by the window, staring out at the approaching twilight. He slowly turned her towards him. His touch, so gentle, started her pulses racing. She lifted her head to gaze up into his face, saw the love reflected there, enhanced by her own feelings for him. For a good thirty seconds, they stared at each other, hungrily committing each other’s features to memory, glorying in the anticipation of almost touching, prolonging it to increase the excitement within them.

  God, as much as she loved her rellies, she was glad they’d gone home, even though she knew she would miss them. She and Marcus had scarcely had a moment to themselves since they’d admitted their feelings for each other. Her hands inched up his chest, and with each move, she relished the feel of hard muscles through his thin T-shirt, until her fingers met behind his neck. She curled her fingers into his hair and tugged until his head came forward to meet her upturned face. A throaty moan escaped as his lips claimed hers, and instant needles of heat darted through her senses as his arms encircled her waist to pull her against him, until their torsos touched from chest to knees. As their tongues danced with each other, frollicking, teasing, promising so much, Jessica knew with a sureness as old as time that she had at last found the love of her life, her soul mate.

  When they broke away, both were panting and flushed. His hand rose to stroke the smoothness of her cheek, then moved to finger-comb the hair off her forehead and run down to lightly graze her breasts. She leant back from him to give him easier access and moaned once more as he teased first one nipple, then the other, to aching peaks of awareness. Low in her stomach a pulsing began, beating in time to her heartbeat, and then faster and faster until she could hardly think straight, until she didn’t want to think at all. She could feel him, hard and throbbing against her lower stomach, his need as pressing as hers.

  Suddenly he broke away from her, his intention obvious. To leave.

  Smiling, she put her hand on his arm and slowly shook her head. The invitation, the naked need in her eyes was stronger than any words could be, or so she hoped. ‘Please…’

  She watched his eyes scan her face, dwelling for several seconds on each separate feature. And, waiting expectantly, she took pains to curtail the passion inside, which had every nerve end in her body screaming for release. It had been so long…Had he no idea what he was putting her through?

  ‘Jessica, will you marry me?’

  Jessica smiled with joy at the unexpected question, but then the smile slowly faded. She took her time with her answer, pursing her lips together as she studied him thoughtfully. ‘May I take a raincheck on the answer until I see how you are in bed? You know…’ His stunned expression made it difficult to keep the laughter out of her voice as she continued, ‘We may not be compatible sexually, and I don’t want to commit myself. After all, at my age, I can’t afford to make another mistake and marry the wrong man.’

  His laugh ended in a mock growl. His grip tightened about her, his hands running up and down the side of her body until she arched against him. ‘Jessica Pearce, you’re a tease, did you know that?’

  ‘I believe I have been told…’

  Her squeal of surprise was followed by a delighted chuckle as he picked her up in his arms and strode through the kitchen towards the bedroom. With his mouth nuzzling against her neck, his words were garbled, but she heard them well enough.

  ‘Then prepare to be shown what happens to a woman who teases her man beyond his self-control.’

  ‘Oh, yes, please do…’

  It was lonely in her bed that night, without Marcus, but he’d been adamant about going back to Hunter’s Glen, if only for appearances’ sake. She lay on her back, stretched and smiled at the shadows dancing on the ceiling in the darkened room. Marcus, wonderful, oh! so exciting Marcus, who’d made sure he’d extracted a very definite ‘yes’ to his proposal of marriage before he had left. Neither had any worries about sexual compatibility. He’d made sure of that: masterfully, dominantly and oh, so sweetly! Her stomach tightened with spasms of arousal just thinking how good they’d been together. And now she felt sensuously, deliciously exhausted…with good reason. Marcus was good. Better than good!

  God, her mouth twisted in a grimace. She felt hot and bothered all over. If she didn’t stop thinking about him, how on earth would she get any sleep?

  She tried to change the focus. Sarah…where are you…?

  She had become accustomed to Sarah O’Riley popping in and out of her waking and sleeping hours, and she was, yes, missing the contact. Or more accurately, she was consumed with curiosity to know what Sarah wanted her to do.

  But, eventually, one yawn followed another, and another. She blinked and then her eyes closed and stayed closed.

  Sarah stood by the window watching Jessica’s chest rise and fall as she drifted into a deep sleep. Her gaze and thoughts were admiring of the woman she had come to know, the woman who’d been through her own mental and emotional hell, as she had, and survived. Jessica now had the chance to lead a long, happy life with Sarah’s own kinsman, Marcus. She smiled benevolently. It was fitting.

  She glided to the side of the bed, leant over and placed a hand on Jessica’s temple.

  Time, Jessica, it is time for you ta know all…

  Bundled up as she was, with the discomfort of being gagged and carried like a bag of potatoes, Sarah could not think. She tried to concentrate on what was happening. She could hear the men’s footsteps, first crunching on the road as they crossed Quality Row, then making softer sounds as they moved onto grass and through shrubbery. Occasionally she heard a curse, a sniffle and a raspy cough, as well as grumbling from the man who carried her so roughly.

  ‘’Ere, give ’er to me,’ Dowd muttered.

  Without care or worry for her comfort, she was handed over to the shorter man, and was so winded in the process that a lump of bile lodged in her throat and almost cho
ked her. Then the procession continued. She lost track of time, of coherent thought, for fear temporarily triumphed and her body stiffened to rigidity as she became consumed by dire imaginings of what lay ahead.

  ‘She’s no lightweight, yer know. How much further?’ complained Dowd.

  ‘N-nearly there,’ came Timothy Cavanagh’s whisper.

  At last the man carrying her stopped, and his wheezing began to fade as he caught his breath.

  ‘By Christ, I thought ye’d weasled out on me, lads.’

  That voice! Sarah would have recognised it anywhere. Elijah. She went limp, sagging against her carrier’s body so that he stumbled and almost fell.

  ‘Put her down,’ Rupert suggested.

  Sarah was dropped unceremoniously to the earth, where she lay hardly daring to breathe, to move. Listening.

  ‘So, did it all go to plan?’

  ‘Oh, aye, Elijah,’ Dowd advised. ‘She had nary a suspicion of what was up till we snaffled her. Rupert had ter give ’er one ter keep ’er still.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Elijah glanced at Timothy, whose face was deathly white in the glow of the three-quarter moon. ‘Yer a good lad, yer did well.’ He eyed Rupert and Thomas. ‘None of the sentries challenged yer? Yer got away clean, did yer?’ When they nodded yes, he brought out a flask, took a deep swig from it and then passed it around. ‘Well done, lads. Well done.’

  From inside the sacking, which clung to her face and rubbed roughly against her skin, Sarah strove to remain calm. She wasn’t a’feared of the other men: Dowd, McLean and the snivelling Cavanagh, but Elijah. That man was evil through to the core of his being. He had obviously planned her abduction with military precision, sure as only he in his arrogance could be that he would get away with it. And, the question suddenly popped into her head: how did he happen to be in Kingston, anyway? Captain Stewart had said he’d keep him at the timber camp up in the hills until a ship arrived to transport him back to Sydney Town.

  So much for promises…not worth the breath with which they were spoken.

  Sarah O’Riley, you’re in a fine pickle now. Elijah hated her because she had brought his fine ambitions back in Sydney Town undone. Because of her he’d been sent to the hellhole mining camp at Newcastle, and demoted to a lowly private. Not that he hadn’t deserved all he’d received but, of course, Elijah wouldn’t see things that way. With his distorted way of looking at matters, he would find it more comfortable to blame her than his own corrupt ways.

  A boot prodded the side of her body. Sarah didn’t react.

  ‘Do yer think she’s fainted?’

  ‘Playin’ possum, more like, I reckon.’

  ‘Take the sack off her, lads. Let’s see how the high an’ mighty Mrs O’Riley is, now that she ain’t got no one, no Captain Stewart, no bloody police constables, around ter jump to her tune.’ Elijah took off his jacket and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. ‘I bin waitin’ a long time fer this, lads, ter humble the bitch.’

  Dowd and McLean bent to do Elijah’s bidding. They sat her upright and stripped the sack off Sarah, but left the gag and bindings in place. Dowd leapt back when he saw the glaring hatred in her eyes. After that, she refused to look at any of them. Instead she glanced about her and saw that they were somewhere in the forest. Tall pines threw moonlit shadows onto the grass and mounds of lichen-covered rocks and, as she tilted her head, she heard the distant wash of the sea pound against the shore. This place was a little familiar to her, she realised. Hadn’t she and Meggie searched for pine cones here, not long ago? Also, the dismal thought came to her, it was a goodly distance from the village of Kingston. She twisted her head again to peer through the bushes, but could see no trace of lamplights anywhere.

  ‘Shit, she be givin’ me the evil eye,’ Dowd muttered. He shielded his hand across his eyes and stepped back from her.

  ‘Evil eye!’ McLean scoffed, hands on his lean hips. ‘What kind of an idiot are you, Thomas, to believe in such things?’

  ‘Don’t be underestimatin’ her, lads. Our Sarah’s capable of many things, but not, I think, witchcraft.’ Elijah prodded her stomach with the toe of his boot. ‘Ain’t you, Sarah?’

  She didn’t respond, so he kicked her none too gently in the solar plexus, which made her cough and gag. ‘Now, Sarah, you’d best be learnin’ who’s the boss.’ He nodded to his cohorts and grinned ‘It ain’t you. When I asks yer a question, I wants an answer. So…?’ He pulled his foot back and kicked her again. It felt good to vent some of his spleen, the months of frustration out on her.

  She nodded affirmatively then, and the glare in her eyes lessened as tears of pain engulfed her. Winded, she coughed and gasped for breath, her nostrils dilating as she dragged in a lungful of air. To be sure, a cowardly bastard was Elijah Waugh!

  ‘Take the gag off,’ Elijah ordered. ‘No one will hear her if she yells, we’re too far away.’

  McLean was the one who bent to comply with Elijah’s command. Dowd was still wary of her stare, and Cavanagh hovered behind all of them, seemingly unhappy to be there, but lacking the courage to walk away. Elijah strutted about like a bantam cock, his pale eyes glittering as he saw her ginger tresses fall loose across her shoulders.

  She was as beautiful as he remembered. All those months at Newcastle, until he’d transgressed and the lieutenant had decided to ‘discipline him’ by sending him to Norfolk, Sarah had been all he could think of. Often he had imagined his hands in her hair, around her throat, squeezing until she could barely breathe, and then taking her until he’d had his fill of her. As he looked at her, his body began to harden, the red-hot lust inside him beginning to boil and bubble. God, he’d never wanted a woman so much!

  Freed of the gag, Sarah spat out the sourness and a mouthful of threads, and worked the stiffness out of the muscles around her mouth. All the while she watched Elijah warily, for he was the leader. The others, weak-minded fools that they were, would clearly do whatever he commanded.

  ‘Well, Sarah O’Riley, have yer nothin’ ter say? No sassy-mouthed remarks fer any of us?’

  ‘I’ll not be talkin’ ta you, Waugh. We have naught ta say ta each other,’ she said and lifted her chin defiantly towards him.

  ‘By God, ye’ve got spunk, I’ll give yer that.’

  ‘’Tis a pity you do not, Elijah Waugh. Brave Elijah. Hah!’ She studied each of them and said with a curl to her lip, ‘Ye be cowards, all of you. My Will had more courage in his little finger than you have in the lot of you. What kind of men kidnap a woman, and a mother at that? Cowardly scum, that’s what you all be.’

  The scar on Elijah’s cheek reddened and he touched it briefly, his jaw tightening as he contained his anger. ‘Brave words, Sarah, considerin’ the situation yer in. Tell me—an’ I expect an answer now—do yer remember what I said to yer when the constables carted me off in Sydney Town? Do yer?’

  ‘Aye, I remember.’ The way he’d glared, with pure venom in his eyes, and his promise of retribution had both been burned into her brain.

  ‘Well?’ And he lifted his booted foot to kick her again.

  She winced visibly and edged back. ‘You said, “It’s not over yet, Sarah. There’ll be a reckoning between us one day”.’

  ‘Very good. Yer do remember,’ Elijah’s tone was soft, menacing. She’s a smart one, he reminded himself. Best not to forget that either. ‘I bin waitin’ a long time, Sarah. I wear stripes on me back ’cause of yer. And yer ruined any chance for me gettin’ promoted. Then they posted me to that stinkin’ coal minin’ place. Because of yer. And even here, on Norfolk, yer managed to get me sent to one of the worst places on the island. Ye’ve a lot to answer for, Sarah O’Riley, and guess what?’ He paused and waited for her to look at him.

  With trepidation she finally asked the question he expected of her. ‘What?’

  ‘Yer day of reckonin’s come.’

  ‘You got what you roundly deserved, Waugh, as well you know.’

  Elijah took off his shirt to reveal a hairy, muscl
ed chest. He twisted so she could see the scars on his back and smiled as she looked away in discomfort. ‘Aye, Sarah, it’s not a pretty sight, is it? Thanks to yer.’ He grabbed his crotch and arched suggestively at her. ‘And guess what? I intend ter finish what I begun the night o’ Will’s funeral. Yer goin’ to get what yer roundly deserve. Fer yer rudeness ter Dowd an’ McLean too.’ He looked at the others. ‘Isn’t she, lads?’

  He stared at her then, his intention written in his eyes for her to see. Sarah blanched, the lightening of her skin clearly visible in the moonlight, as the full import struck her. Oh, dear God in Heaven. No! A trembling began deep within her and spread to her limbs, even though she knew they couldn’t see it because she was so securely bound. She remembered all too well what he’d started before, knew his strength, knew the evil within him. She panicked, the blood in her veins coursing with fearful dread. Oh God, what was she to do?

  ‘You be mad, all of you,’ she uttered, but with a bravery she did not sincerely feel. ‘I demand that you take me back ta the Captain’s home at once. Do so and I promise I’ll not mention any of this…nonsense…ta him.’

  Dowd gave a nasty laugh as he leered at her, his gaze glued to the rise and fall of her breasts. ‘An’ what makes yer think we’d believe ye’d keep yer word?’

  ‘It’s too late for such promises, my dear. We’re here for a bit of fun and, by God, we’re going to have it,’ muttered McLean. He grinned wickedly at her and then nodded to Elijah.

  ‘Untie her, lads, let’s see what she looks like beneath all that clothing.’

  Though Sarah struggled and tried to kick out at them, there were too many hands and soon she was untrussed and flat on her back, with the four of them towering over her. Her eyes glazed with fear as she saw Elijah lean towards her and take hold of the top of her gown with both hands. He tugged until the material ripped down to her waist while the others muttered approval and encouragement.