by Diana Palmer
It was his tone that lifted her head. “What did he have to be sorry about?”
“For neglecting you all those years, blaming you for what your mother did to him.” His voice was quiet. “Sounds to me like he didn’t deserve your compassion.”
She laid her head down again and snuggled in closer. They listened to the rain beat loudly on the roof and the wind keen. Lucy felt she never wanted to move from here.
“You do realize—” Ethan put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to him “—being naughty, charming your way through life—it’s all just a cry for attention.”
She blinked at him. How did he see that so quickly? It had taken her some years to figure that out.
A tiny spurt of something broke inside her. It was so unexpected, so unfamiliar, it almost hurt. She’d have called it hope if she hadn’t crushed it down ruthlessly, as was her habit.
She’d long since given up hope of a kind word from her father, a kiss or cuddle like she’d had when she was small, before Belle had left. Long since given up hope of a fairy-tale love. It was best that way. She was living proof. The love word made people run—her faster than most.
She leaned close and kissed his chest. She would enjoy tonight. Tomorrow would come. For now, keep things nice and easy.
He lifted her chin toward him again. “Let’s make a plan.”
She grinned, shaking her head. “You and your plans.”
His index finger traced the shape of her lips. “You are very beautiful,” he murmured. “And you were not part of the plan.”
No, Lucy thought sadly. I never am. But her smile didn’t slip.
“Told you about Turtle Island, didn’t I? It’s going to be huge. It’s going to be the premier luxury resort in the world. It’s also going to take up most of my time over the next couple of years.”
Her heart sank even as hope burgeoned inside. And again, she quelled it. Don’t get your hopes up. He’s already talking about leaving, and that will be that.
“But the islands are only three or four hours away. You can come visit. We’ll drink kava in the sun.”
“That’s a nice idea,” Lucy told him brightly and, as was her way, pushed the maudlin thoughts aside.
“Get an assessment done, Lucy. Soon. I’ll get those business plans drawn up, we will sort out this mess with Tom, and you can start putting some of those ideas into effect. You do own fifty per cent of this operation.”
She sighed. “He won’t listen.”
“He damned well will. There’s more to you than he thinks. Let’s show him.”
Let’s. What a small, inconsequential word. She tried to picture it in her mind, the shape of it, the number of letters. From his mouth, it meant two. Two of them. Together. Us.
Hope and longing flared again. Get it out of your mind. She rubbed her cheek up under his chin. He could use a shave. She could use some sense.
She looked down his relaxed body. So long, so strong. Her hand smoothed the light sprinkling of hair on his broad chest. What a view.
A muscle in his upper thigh twitched. Lucy turned her head to lick at his nipple, see it respond. Her finger glided slowly lower, over his tawny belly. She raised her face again, and nibbled on the bristles along his jawline. They kissed, deep and lingering. His arms tightened and she felt his hands spread wide. Her heart stuttered.
Much later, the sounds of his ecstasy trickled from his lips after a torturously slow and gentle seduction. He smoothed her hair, still looking intently into her eyes. Something flowed between them—a sensation as lush and complex as a fine wine. He’d filled her with a million pinpricks of light and sweetness that swelled and burst and streamed through her with agonizing slowness.
It was the best—and the worst—she had ever felt. She tore her gaze away and pushed him and curled up hard into him. Whimpering with gratification, she hoped he did not notice the couple of baffling tears she shed.
They dressed haphazardly and wandered downstairs in search of food, barefoot and holding hands. The electrical storm had long passed but heavy rain and high winds still lashed the house. Lucy’s quiet and sultry chatter checked at the sound of distress in the kitchen. They opened the door to find Ellie, Summerhill’s housekeeper, calling into the radiotelephone, looking and sounding agitated.
Lucy moved to her side immediately. “What is it?”
Ellie stared at her. “What are you doing here?” She broke off to look at Ethan, a puzzled line appearing between her brows as she took in their disheveled appearance. “I thought you were in town. Your car…”
“It’s down at the stables. Ellie, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Lucy, it’s a terrible mess. There’s been an accident.”
Ellie spoke into the RT in her hand. “Summerhill to Tom, can you hear me, Tom?”
Another faint crackle, nothing intelligible. The older woman looked at Lucy’s worried face. “I got the first call about ten. His radio was wet and running out of power. There was a landslide. The hut they were in—Craiglea—was nearly wiped out. They decided to try to make it to the ford. Tom said it wasn’t too bad at that stage. But he was wrong. From what I can make out, one or both Jeeps were washed into the river in a flash flood.”
“Oh no,” Lucy whispered.
“Anyone hurt?” Ethan demanded.
“The signal was weak, but I don’t think so. I think he said they all ended up in the water and have lost everything, rifles, food, wet-weather gear, the lot. He saved just the one radio.”
Lucy and Ethan stared at each other. Guilt radiated between them. While they’d been enjoying themselves, they hadn’t given a thought to the hunting party. And now those people, people close to them, were in danger.
“Search and Rescue, Ellie, have you called them?”
Ellie nodded. “The local police are tied up. There’s flooding right along the river. They have sent for police from town to assess the situation.”
“Are there other huts?” Ethan asked tersely.
“Which side of the river, Ellie?”
“Mountain side. Fernlea would be the closest.”
Lucy looked at Ellie in consternation. “That’s miles. They’ll never make it in this weather on foot.”
Even as she said that, something niggled in her brain, some long-distant memory. She pushed it aside to listen to Ellie.
“Not easy to find either. It’s straight up into the hills. Stupid, stupid.” She tsked. “Why didn’t they stay put at Craiglea? Made the best of it? I talked to Tom at three, soon as I knew the storm was on the way. He wanted to show Mr. Anderson one more spot.”
“Any ideas, Ellie?”
The older woman inhaled, looking at each of them in turn. “We stay put and wait. It’s up to the police to decide if Search and Rescue can attempt a river crossing in the dark while the storm is still going on. We’ll just have to hope Tom and the others can find some shelter and keep warm.”
“How many of them?” Ethan asked, looking at Lucy.
“Tom, Stacey, Magnus and Mr. Endo, one of the other guests.”
“Oh, my,” Ellie suddenly exclaimed. “I suppose we should tell Mrs. Anderson and Mrs. Endo. I’ve talked to Marie, Stacey’s wife.”
“I’ll go to Juliette, you take Mrs. Endo. Ethan, put some coffee on. And keep an ear out for the radio.”
“Shouldn’t we go after them?” Ethan asked.
Ellie shook her head adamantly. “There’s enough fool folk in the bush for one night. The police should be here soon. Just pray this storm lets up.”
Chapter Ten
Ethan made a big pot of coffee and fiddled with the radio, to no avail. Soon Juliette and the Indonesian woman joined him and Lucy and Ellie in the kitchen. Juliette confessed to lying awake worrying about the storm. Ethan felt sorry for the Indonesian woman. Her English was poor and there was no way of knowing how much she understood.
While they waited for the police he and Lucy braved the rain to check on the horses. To their horror, the river, two
hundred meters away, was now within a meter of the stables. It took them nearly an hour to lead the half dozen animals back up to the barn where the Jeeps were kept, and to move their cars out of reach of the water.
A two-man team of police experienced in mountain search and rescue arrived, reporting widespread flooding for miles around. The weather was still atrocious. They spread maps all over the big kitchen table. Lucy stepped back, admitting that maps were beyond her, and Ellie showed them Tom’s last known location. The area was steep and densely forested. After an hour’s deliberation and calls to local search and rescue personnel, it was decided to wait until daybreak to attempt to send a team across the river.
Hour after hour they waited. At about four in the morning, Ethan left the cops in the kitchen and stretched out on one of the couches in the lounge. He scraped his hand along his jaw and thought he must look like hell.
Lucy sat across from him, talking to Juliette. Lucy looked utterly adorable. Her hair had been saturated and dried so many times today—not to mention enduring a sexathon—that it spiked out in all directions. She looked like a trendy hairdresser with a sticky-product fetish. Except that she wore a blue check shirt and jeans and woolly socks—the perfect farm girl.
The women talked quietly and his eyelids drifted shut. Nothing to be done till the morning. He might as well sleep.
He heard Juliette tell Lucy she couldn’t bear having to bury another husband. She talked of her first husband and the night that had changed her life, pitching her into a living hell for two years. Lucy did not let on that she already knew about it.
“I’ve paid my dues. I just want to be with Magnus for as long as we have and be pampered and pamper him back. Is that so wrong?”
“No, of course not. Doesn’t he know…?”
“I’ll tell him, as soon as he…” Juliette’s voice hitched. “I was foolish to think I could hide it.
“I know people think I’m a gold digger.” The sadness in her voice was evident.
Ethan would not have done anything differently. The newspaper clippings needed to be checked out. But he was glad things had turned out both for Juliette and his friend.
She continued sadly. “Truth is, I love him to bits and I’m proud to be his wife. I would never cheat on him. Growing up dirt-poor, I know I have a lot to be grateful for, and I am.”
“It’s obvious how close you are,” Lucy murmured.
“It’s not a one-way street. He gets his masculinity fed. He’s proud to have me on his arm. And he was so lonely when I met him. Now he laughs all the time. I make him laugh.”
Ethan had to agree with that.
“He also loves giving things. He’s generous. And he has someone to fuss over him now, make sure he takes his pills.
“But all some people see is he’ll be dead in a few short years, and I will still be young, and rich.”
“Not the ones that know you both, surely,” Lucy protested.
Ethan heard a mirthless chuckle. “People get jealous, I’m living a dream life.”
There was a pause, and drowsiness pressed down on his mind.
“You must see a lot of rich old men through here, honey. Tell me you never thought about it—snagging one and being obscenely rich.”
Ethan inhaled sharply through his nostrils, held it. Time stood still for a moment, or seemed to in his mind. He opened his eyes, somewhat reluctantly.
Lucy was grinning. “Oh, yeah. All the time.”
She’s joking, he told himself.
“Sadly, most of them bring their wives.”
She must be…
“Their trophy wives,” Juliette sighed.
“Ethan said that,” Lucy said cheerily. She turned her head and looked at him. On seeing his eyes open, she smiled an intimate little smile. “Oh. You’re awake.”
Ethan relaxed. She had a hell of a smile. He drank it in and smiled back.
Juliette stood and stretched. “I need some aspirin.”
Lucy rose also. “I’ll get you some.”
Juliette said she had plenty in her room and excused herself. Lucy came over to Ethan’s couch and perched on the edge. She expressed grave fears for the farm animals on the grazing land close to the river. They agreed that as soon as the search and rescue team was dispatched, they would go check on the stock. From what they had seen by the stables, the river had burst its banks in a big way. There could be substantial losses.
At five-thirty, the rest of the search and rescue team arrived. It was dark and still raining heavily, but the wind had dropped.
The team discussed their options over coffee and Ellie’s warm date scones. Lucy stood behind the seated men, chewing on her bottom lip worriedly, but she suddenly snapped her fingers. “Ellie, did you say Tom tried to cross at the ford?”
She had remembered something: an old Department of Conservation hut. “Tom would know of it. It’s not used anymore. They might have headed there for shelter.”
“Are you sure it’s in this area?” the team leader asked.
“I stayed there once, camping out, when I was a kid. All I know is, it’s only about half an hour’s ride on the other side of the ford, in a big stand of pine.”
“May not even be still standing,” Ellie said dubiously.
“It’s worth a shot,” one of the men said. “How deep is the ford usually?”
“Usually only one, one and a half feet, but…” Lucy shrugged again.
Ethan guessed the whole landscape would have changed in this storm. The radio news said it was the worst flood in the area for fifty years.
A rescue helicopter from town was already on alert. As soon as it was light, it would be flown to the top of the gorge. One team would climb from there down into the stand of pine it was hoped the hunters were holed up in. Another team would drive to the ford—if that were possible—and attempt a river crossing, then up through the bush to the vicinity of the hut.
The condition of the hunters and the safety of the river crossing or the climb would determine how the party would be brought out.
As soon as it was light, the team set off, promising to keep in touch by radiotelephone. Ethan and Lucy stood on the veranda and stared in shock at the unfamiliar look of the terrain in front of the house. The normally benign Rakaia had spread into a huge lake that encroached up past the stables. It wasn’t so deep, but the area it covered was impressive.
“Lucky you thought to move the horses,” Ethan murmured.
“We’d better feed them. Then I’ll call the neighbor. Apparently he looks after a lot of our stock, and I hope he’ll know where they are.”
According to the news, many of the lower-lying farms in the district had been flooded, and not just pasture. Summerhill was lucky because the house was on a rise. There were several properties with a couple of feet of water flowing through. They also still had phone access and power, unlike some of the more remote properties.
Lucy called their nearest neighbor and discovered he had been up for hours and had already seen to most of the animals on his and Summerhill’s land. “There’s just one group of ours he’s a bit worried about—down in the south pasture. He thinks there’s around fifty head there. But the land does rise at one end. He hopes the animals have made their way to the top.
“He offered to go check,” she continued. “But I’m tired of sitting around the house worrying. I’ll go.”
Ellie fixed them a big breakfast and shortly after eight, Lucy saddled up Monty and the mare Tilley for Ethan. They were well wrapped up in oilskins, boots and gloves and Lucy made Ellie promise to call her on her cell phone the moment any news came in from the rescue team.
“Lead on, cowgirl.” Ethan grinned, saluting her.
They set off into the dim morning, heavy rain making conversation difficult. Lucy was in awe at the massive lake the river had made of her land. It was sluggish and not deep but they had to take care in the dips and valleys. Luckily she had a good memory and guided them confidently to the pasture they were se
eking, about an hour’s ride from the house.
Three hours later, they had nearly all of the cattle herded into the gardens around the lodge, to Ellie’s dismay. They saw only two dead cattle in the floodwaters, and one trembling beast had to be roped and hauled up out of a water-filled hole. Then they rode over to check on the neighbor.
Ellie rang while they were still there to say the hunting party were all alive and well and had made it safely across the river. Tom was the only one with an injury—a suspected broken wrist. They had indeed sheltered in the old DOC hut. Lucy’s recollection had saved hours of searching.
“Hell of a memory you got there.” Ethan gave her a high five and she pushed her hood back and grinned with relief.
They set off for home midafternoon. Weary as he was, his muscles protesting at the unaccustomed hours in the saddle, Ethan looked around in wonder at the damage Mother Nature could inflict. He had previously experienced the other end of the spectrum, where she refused to provide any water, the greatest necessity of life.
Lucy seemed to be ambling along at half his pace. He reined in and waited, struck by her desolate expression. She was looking around, not at the flooding but the gorge and the mountains. She looked at it as if she’d never see it again.
“Great country, Lucy.”
“Even like this,” she agreed. “You know, I loved traveling, but wherever in the world I was, however hard I looked, Summerhill has always been the most exotic place for me.” She looked at him curiously. “Do you have an exotic place? Somewhere you keep locked away inside?”
Wherever you are, he thought promptly, and clamped his mouth shut before he made a complete ass of himself. He shook his head.
They moved off.
“I guess I’m dreading seeing Magnus.”
Ethan tried to suppress a smile. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”
They continued on in silence for a minute, the horses stirring up squelching mud in the waterlogged pasture.
“If he takes us off the Global List, Tom wants to sell,” she told him suddenly.
He pulled to a stop. “Sell the lodge?” he asked in surprise.
