An Outback Affair/Runaway Wife/Outback Bridegroom/Outback Surrender/Home To Eden

by Margaret Way

  “I have memories of your father’s study,” she said as they moved out of the garden room.

  “My study now.”

  “Have you kept all the trophies? Those wonderful paintings of horses, the huge mahogany partners desk?”

  “I have. I’ve hardly changed a thing.”

  “And the smoking room with all the artifacts and curios? The fascinating things your family gathered. I especially loved the huge Indian paintings on cotton.”

  “They’re still there. Most of the guns have gone, except the antiques which are under lock and key. No smoking allowed anymore. Callista has done quite a bit to the main rooms of the house. It keeps her happy shifting things round, constantly refurbishing.”

  “That happens with people who love houses,” she murmured. “Why do we love houses so much?”

  “Because they’re our castles. We want to keep them intact for our children.”

  They moved into the formal drawing room with its series of double-hung windows and four sets of French doors, allowing light to flood in. Whatever Callista’s failings, she had mastered the art of decorating, Nicole thought. Hanging above the fireplace was a magnificent painting, a landscape-skyscape she’d never seen before.

  “That’s amazing!” She was irresistibly drawn to it.

  “I bought it in Melbourne. It spoke to me across two rooms. A new artist, Nick Osbourne.”

  “He’ll be going places.” With her trained eye she was impressed.

  “He already is. His prices have jumped accordingly. There’s a lovely portrait of a young woman in the dining room, I’d like you to see. I found it on one of my trips. It keeps my male guests at the table.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  As they entered the spacious dining room, which had in the old days hosted many a party, Drake switched on the overhead chandelier for additional light. A huge antique mirror over the long sideboard reflected the painting on the opposite wall. “Why, she’s a redhead.” Nicole spun around, thoroughly intrigued. It was an oil-on-canvas portrait of a beautiful young woman in a satin evening gown that showed off her lustrous skin and the upper curves of her breasts. She was half sitting, half reclining on a deep wingback chair upholstered in a rich ruby silk brocade, slender arms extended, one lovely hand adorned with a huge diamond-set emerald.

  “That’s another Blanche,” she said, referring to the turn-of-the-century French artist.

  “It is. He certainly knew how to paint women.”

  “She looks a little bit like me.” Nicole moved in for a closer inspection.

  “She’s a lot like you,” he answered dryly. “I wasn’t immune to the fact when I bought it.”

  “Surely it’s not why you bought the painting. That’s unreal.”

  “You’re a bit unreal yourself.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Drake. Callista can’t like the painting much.”

  “Well, I love it. Wherever you go, her eyes follow you, and look at those beautiful hands.”

  “Hands are very difficult to paint. She’s a sexy little wench. I’m awfully flattered, but surely I’m not that seductive-looking?”

  He glanced at her. “You have your moments.”

  “I don’t see myself that way,” she said, faintly surprised by his words.

  “I know you don’t. That’s what makes the appeal more potent.”

  “Well I’ve no wish to be a femme fatale,” she said tightly, and turned away.

  “I guess you have no say in the matter.”

  THE LIBRARY like Eden’s library, was a grand room at the heart of the homestead. Nicole knew the magnificently carved bookcases that rose almost to the high ceiling were the work of the gifted cabinetmaker George Wingate. Wingate had been transported to Botany Bay as a convict for what today would be a misdemeanor. Once there, however, his career didn’t suffer. He found plenty of work in the homesteads of the rich “squattocracy.” As well as the huge collection of beautifully bound books in all their jewel colors, the shelves held curios and dozens of small sculptures of horses. The McClellands, like the Cavanaghs and other Outback dynasties, had always been horse crazy.

  In Drake’s study she discovered he’d added another large painting of a splendid palomino, its coat a rich dark gold, its flowing mane and tail platinum white.

  “I love this!” She gazed into the large liquid-brown eye the palomino presented in profile.

  “You wouldn’t be an Outback woman if you didn’t,” he said.

  “Such beautiful creatures! Remember our journeys on horseback over desert sand, tangled scrub and all those rocky creek beds? When Joel rode along, he did a lot of complaining—I never did know why. I’ve missed a fast gallop, I can tell you.”

  “I bet.” He smiled. “You’re a natural in the saddle. Straight from the crib onto a pony’s back. Sir Giles saw to that. You never had the least fear.”

  “You’re right. I must have started before I knew fear. I had so much faith in Granddad. He would never have allowed anything to hurt me. Besides, horses have always known what I’m saying to them.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  She moved to a wall covered in photographs that chronicled moments in McClelland family life. Friends, too, and the many celebrities who’d visited the station over the years. There were numerous photographs of Drake, an unqualified photographer’s dream especially when he smiled—as a boy, as a young man, action shots playing polo, others beside the twin-engine Beech Baron, many shots with his father. Invariably his father’s arm was slung proudly around his shoulders. There were other shots of Drake’s father with various VIPs, photographs of extended family at celebrations; the young Callista in evening dress looking not unlike the elfin actress Winona Ryder. She was smiling brilliantly, a study in happiness and excitement. Sitting on a couch beside her was her brother, David, young and remarkably handsome in black tie. There were more photos of David farther up the wall. Full of life, smiling. It was difficult to look at them without feeling a great sadness for the loss of life, the loss of a future.

  “It must be hard looking at these,” she said, a knot in her throat.

  “They came down for a long while,” he answered quietly. “Callista especially couldn’t bear to look at them. Now I think she’s desperate to find his image anywhere.”

  An idol to be worshiped! “Poor Callista!” Nicole, a woman of sensibility, recognized the extremes of love. “The loss of love embittered her.”

  Drake stared at the photograph fixedly. “That happens to a lot of people.”

  “Hopefully not beyond repair.”

  “They were great pals, you know. You see her there. What was she? Twenty? So happy, dazzling in her unusual way. Princess for the night. Joy is written all over her. They were at a ball.”

  “This must have been before David succumbed to my mother.”

  “And Callista lost her role. The world was her oyster before Corrinne came on the scene. David shifted his attention entirely to Corrinne. That must have hurt Cally. She’s always been extravagant with her joys and her sorrows.”

  “Do you suppose she could have gone off the deep end?” Nicole looked away from the photograph and met his eyes.

  “We can all go off the deep end, given the right circumstances. What are you saying, Nic?” A vertical line appeared between his black eyebrows.

  “The unacceptable, apparently.” Nevertheless, Nicole forged on. “Maybe it was an abortive attempt to break up the lovers—my mother and her brother. Maybe something went drastically wrong. A horrific accident just waiting to happen. You said yourself you’re familiar with Callista’s big mood shifts. She can work herself into a rage over a dropped tray.”

  Drake turned away from her, overcome by his own complex thoughts. “Callista is excitable, not flagrantly mad. What about Joel? Let’s turn the tables on you. Isn’t he overly demanding of your time and attention? Your mother had concerns about him. Maybe she threatened to send him away from you. Callista isn’t the onl
y one with a capacity for self-dramatization. He couldn’t imagine life without you. How’s that for an alternative scenario?”

  The green of her eyes was intensified by strong emotion, he’d always noticed. “That’s coming from a skewed viewpoint,” she said calmly.

  He shrugged. “Well, I’m supposed to allow yours.” How easy she found it to rouse him. He didn’t enjoy the sensation. “Would you even recognize the truth when you heard it, do you think?”

  “God knows.” She sighed, baffled, confused. “I’m sorry, Drake. Talking about the past only seems to tear us apart.”

  “Because we’re chasing phantoms. Chasing secrets. What you need is a strong dose of reality. Get your father to give a DNA sample. Living with doubt is disturbing your mind. I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate it. I really don’t want you as a cousin.”

  “I don’t want you that way, either,” she retorted. “But we can’t count out the possibility yet.”

  “The devil we can’t!” he said emphatically. “This is the age of great scientific advances. The way you persist with this, Nic, you’re flaying us both. I’m just frustrated enough to try something. A little experiment.”

  “What?”

  Something she saw in his eyes made her inwardly quake. Her heart knocked a loud warning. She knew if she showed the slightest vulnerability, he could exploit it. “Not a good idea, Drake.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m unsettled enough.” Indeed, she felt curiously fragile, acutely conscious of being a woman.

  “So you’re going to stop me?”

  “Knowing you, I probably can’t. You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

  “My successes have been determined by nerve. It seems you’ve lost yours.” He reached for her slowly, drawing her into his arms.

  “I won’t let you do it.”

  “I think you will. This is it, Nic. An experiment or only folly? Either way, it’s been a long time coming.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE CLOSED her eyes as his mouth covered hers. You have no power over me, she thought dazedly. Determined to keep a cool head, she was immediately lost.

  Sensation after sensation unfolded. She had anticipated an element of vengeance; instead the feelings were so voluptuous she felt herself go limp against him, almost desperate to lie down. A strange weakness was in her legs, yet she had never felt more sensually alive.

  This is something I can’t fight.

  She felt his arm encircle her body, near the hip, taking her weight. She might have been a woman abandoned in the desert only to stumble upon a crystalline pool overflowing with sweetness. She could feel the contractions start up in her body, the tight pull of her breasts, the vibrations deep in her womb. Sexual excitement took control.

  With her eyes tightly shut in an attempt to hold all sensation in, she gave him her open mouth, allowed his tongue entry. The kiss was unbearably pleasurable, inexpressible. It was a tremendous effort to contain her rising excitement. Soon the last shreds of pretense would be torn away.

  Passion was a glory or a curse. She had never experienced such delirious want, and never from a kiss. This shivery, shuddering excitement, her whole body curiously heavy and languid with desire.

  As if from a distance, she heard him murmur her name. Her senses were reeling. She should stop now, she thought, while she could…

  Then he released her, and she almost cried out, grasping the front of his shirt, her fingers unconsciously clawing his chest.

  “Lord God!” he breathed, exhaling a long breath. “It’s not often reality exceeds imagining.” He looked down at her, unaware that his voice, strangely harsh, projected his inner turbulence. He wanted to peel that pretty little top from her, put his mouth to her breasts, catch the budded nipples; feel them like succulent berries between his teeth.

  She stared up at him as though hypnotized. “I’m sorry. I have to sit down or fall down.”

  He quickly moved, assisting her to the sofa where she lay back, legs outstretched.

  “Is it hot in here?” she asked vaguely. Her body felt damp with sweat.

  “No. It’s the heat inside you. But you have lost color.”

  “That’s because of what you’ve done to me.”

  “What have I done?” He smiled, but he, too, had taken long moments to collect himself.

  “Kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before. I’m twenty-four. No innocent, but…” She felt robbed of words.

  He lowered himself into a leather armchair, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Nic?”

  “I’ve known you all my life, but that’s the first time you’ve ever kissed me.”

  “It isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he said sardonically. “Only you’ve been too ready to slice me up with your scalpel tongue.”

  “I wanted to hurt you,” she admitted almost sadly. “I don’t understand why. If I did, I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t believe we’d ever kiss?” he asked in a highly skeptical voice.

  “Maybe I did. Women should be warned about men like you.”

  “Now you know what to expect. You’re getting your color back. That’s good.”

  She realized her right hand was clenched. Slowly she unbent her fingers, still waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. “Odd how sexual excitement makes one lose color.”

  He moved to the couch to sit beside her. “So you admit to feeling pleasure?”

  She made more room for him. “Some kind of pleasure. Hard to describe it.” Her hand fumbled with the dense masses of her hair. “You don’t play fair. I didn’t expect what just happened. Or maybe I did.”

  “Ah, the truth at last. You don’t do a bad job of kissing.”

  “What’s kissing—pressing lips?”

  “A lot more than that, don’t you think?”

  She sank her head into a cushion. “It could be the beginning of a chain of something. Strategy. I don’t altogether trust you, Drake.”

  “I don’t trust you, either.” His eyes traveled the slender length of her, while he wrestled with the idea of pulling her back into his arms. “Would you like me to massage your hands?”

  “No, thank you. The kiss was quite enough.”

  “Not for me. I couldn’t function exclusively on your kisses.” He didn’t add that already an unbearable ache had begun because of the kiss.

  “One thing I have to get perfectly straight. You’re not in love with Karen?”

  “I’ve already told you.” He met her eyes.

  “Tell me again.”

  “Unlike your kisses, once is enough. Is there anyone in your life you want to go back to? Some man?”

  She looked away. “Half a dozen. Intelligent, good-looking, well connected.”

  “Who of course know nothing about your trauma because you haven’t told them.”

  She turned her face back to him. “How did you guess?”

  “I don’t talk about mine, either.”

  “I bet you don’t suffer horribly from nightmares.”

  He stared into her eyes. Crystal clear, blue-green like the sea.

  “You need someone to sleep with you,” he said, aware that with the one kiss they had redefined their relationship. “Someone who can dominate your dreams.”

  “You?”

  He shrugged. “It’s going to happen.”

  “Is it now!” She made a determined effort to sit up. “You’re too sure of yourself, Drake. I don’t like that. Weren’t we arguing about our relationship only ten minutes ago?”

  “Don’t bring that up again,” he warned. “I thought we’d settled it. You’ve only used it for self-protection, anyway.”

  “I’ve never thought about our relationship that way.” She grasped his elbow, offering him her white brow. “I think I must have a fever. Feel.”

  He slid his fingers back and forth across her forehead. It was warm, but not feverish. “What about a swim to cool off?” he suggested in a mocking voice.


  “Have your fun. Are you going to let me up?”

  “I don’t know. I rather like having you in my power.”

  Maybe you’ve always had me in your power, she thought. Happy memories began to surface, and she found herself leaning against him. “Remember when Granddad used to have those big weekend gatherings? Everyone used to come from near and far. When the adults were talking, a group of us used to find the best lagoon to swim. I was just at the stage when I thought you were wonderful, and didn’t Joel hate it.”

  “That hasn’t changed. As for you, we’ll make allowances for your age.” He was loath to disturb her mood, the near-affectionate attitude that was a relic of the days they’d both been young and carefree.

  “We’re carved into one another’s lives, Drake.”

  “It seems like it.”

  She brought her head up abruptly, as some thought struck her. “As I recall, you were very much interested in the Minareechi even then.”

  “Nothing remarkable about that. The Minareechi is the finest deep-water, permanent stream in a vast area.”

  She maneuvered herself gracefully to a sitting position beside him. “Just think, you could have it if you have me.”

  His tone was sardonic. “It has occurred to me. Are you offering yourself?”

  Her heart fluttered like a bird caught in the hand. “If I were, wouldn’t it be too good an opportunity for you to pass up?”

  “Not if you’re more trouble than any other woman in the world.”

  “I wouldn’t be a problem to a man like you.” She gave him a sidelong smile.

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  “So the idea’s crossed your mind. Why wouldn’t it? You’re great at making arrangements. That’s what’s bothering Callista, who has her hopes set on Karen. The Stirlings have a very nice property, but they’re relative newcomers and they couldn’t compete with Eden.” She waved the obvious taunt like a flag.

  He looked directly into her eyes. “You’re safe enough. Unless you’d rather you weren’t?”

  She stood up. “What happened today was a mistake. Think again if you think I’m going to bed with you.” Despite her strong words, she saw herself poised at the brink of a chasm.