by Shirley Wine
Falling in love filled the vacuum of love-starved emptiness inside her.
Jared was passionate and gentle, but never demanded more than kisses.
When she confided the horror of growing up in a series of children’s homes, he was so understanding Winsome knew she’d found her soul mate.
She would, he assured her, love his mother.
Winsome, naïve and innocent, never doubted him.
The day after her eighteenth birthday, legally no longer a minor, she and Jared married at the Hamilton Registry Office, their witnesses, two secretaries. Afterwards they’d lunched at a hotel.
“Do your parents know we’re getting married?”
“I thought I’d surprise them.” Jared leaned across the table and brushed a dark curl away from her anxious face with a finger that trembled slightly. “I can’t believe that you actually agreed to marry me.”
Looking into his adoring eyes, Winsome was enchanted.
Jared had surprised her with his unexpected, old-fashioned streak, insisting they wait until they were wed for her complete surrender. For five blissful days they enjoyed a brief honeymoon. All her fears melted under his gentle tuition and guidance.
During this time, spent at a luxury hotel in Hamilton, they went shopping and chose the furniture they would need to turn his bachelor apartment at Totara Park into their private haven. Those five halcyon days shored up Winsome’s courage to face Jared’s family. Even as a part of her thought it was too good to last.
Her fears were well founded. Gaelen hated her on sight.
Winsome sighed softly, rubbing a tired hand across her forehead, eaten up by grief and guilt.
So what had changed? She was still naïve, she thought with wry understanding. She’d changed in the intervening years, so had Jared. And yet she’d expected him to be the same and when he wasn’t, she felt let down?
Why was she so surprised by his harshness, his bitterness? He was entitled, she conceded. He didn’t understand why she’d walked out on him.
Had she told Jared everything before they were married, she would not be in this situation now. At the time it had seemed like an innocent enough omission.
Now it threatened her whole life and she could see no way past it.
.oOo.
Jared paced outside the bathroom door, more worried than he cared to admit.
First Winsome had almost scared the socks off him when she’d fainted in his arms, then she’d stared at him as if he were the devil incarnate, out to steal her soul.
Okay so he knew he was unreasonable and often moody. Winsome’s return and the events surrounding it, the secrets she was still hiding, were driving him crazy.
She’d matured into a woman to be reckoned with, but her secretiveness made him suspicious. How could he not be suspicious knowing she’d conspired with his father.
Everything else he could probably forgive, even the secrets. He knew she had secrets because he’d asked Quentin outright. His answer? They’re Winsome’s secrets to tell, not mine.
Why had she fainted? Jared replayed their conversation.
You’ve proved to be extremely dishonest. That was it. So what did she think that he knew? That would cause such an extreme reaction?
When she came out of that bathroom he intended to find out. He glanced at his watch and was shocked to realise she’d been in that bath for over an hour.
Was she okay?
Suddenly another memory clouded his vision and his heart clenched in his chest. He would never survive another loved one drowning.
Loved one?
A cynical laugh escaped, but to his dismay he discovered love couldn’t be turned off like a tap. It didn’t matter that Winsome had walked away from him, lacerated his pride and self-respect– he still loved her.
Stop being a fool over that girl. His mother’s words echoed in his head.
That’s just what he was, he thought cynically, love’s fool. To heck with her notions of privacy, her safety was more important. He tapped on the door listening intently.
Silence.
He waited another agonising moment and then opened the door.
Winsome, drowsing languidly, opened her eyes.
“Jared?”
Her husky whisper powered through him leaving his skin hot and tight, blood pooling heavily in his groin.
Jared knew he should immediately leave, but that was beyond him. As if drawn by an invisible thread, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door and then slowly walked towards the bath and Winsome.
He knelt on the floor, devouring her with his eyes.
Her satin skin was flushed and the bubbles, long since dissipated, revealed the expanse of her lush breasts, roseate nipples playing peek-a-boo with the rippling surface of the water.
“I was thinking about you,” she whispered lifting a hand and laying it on his cheek. “And our first meeting.”
Jared caught her damp hand, pulled it away from his face, holding it tightly in his.
“I was worried about you,” he said, his husky voice harsh.
Winsome’s lethargy faded, she looked into his eyes and saw an unmistakeable anguish. “You thought I might drown?”
A spasm of agony flashed across his hard features.
“Oh, Jared,” she whispered rearing out of the bubbling water and throwing her arms around his neck, heedless of the water streaming onto his clothes.
How could she have forgotten that he too carried those hideous indelible memories? His face buried against the warm dampness of her neck, he held her tightly as a shudder wracked him.
Winsome pushed him away looking into his drawn face. “Why not join me?”
“You wanted to be alone.”
“We’ve been alone for too long. I think we need a little togetherness.”
For long sober moments they looked at each other.
Jared nodded, and with one lithe movement stood and divested himself of clothes before sliding into the hot scented water to lie beside her in the huge bath.
With a soft sigh, he pulled her close against his chest, their bodies resting intimately against each other, warm and close.
“Do you want me to turn the heat up?”
“Nah,” he said with wry humour. “Any hotter and I’ll burst out of my skin.”
Winsome giggled, suddenly feeling more light-hearted than she’d been at any moment since she’d returned to Totara Park.
“You promised to let me alone,” she whispered batting her eyelids.
“Yeah.” He chuckled softly.
His arousal, hard and infinitely male, nudged against her thigh and Winsome’s heart rate galloped sending blood powering through her body in a siren call as old as time.
“Do you want me?”
“Do birds have wings?” he countered drolly, rolling his eyes. “I’m trying to relax here.”
That provoked her into a full-fledged laugh. Jared didn’t feel anywhere near relaxed if his aroused state was anything to judge by.
He looked at her, his expression deadpan. “Just ignore it, I intend to.”
Apprehension shivered through Winsome. Something in his expression warned her that to Jared, this was no laughing matter, nor would he discuss it. She leaned back and let the bubbles of water massage her body.
“Why?” Her curiosity was as aroused as he was, unable to let the subject slide.
“You never could abide me keeping secrets, could you?” he teased with a return of the playfulness she’d almost forgotten. “You know what they say about curiosity and cats?”
“Yeah, satisfaction brings it back.”
“Not this time.” He depressed the tip of her nose with a forefinger.
Winsome reluctantly let the subject slide, but she couldn’t still the curiosity or the warm feeling of being cherished that his restraint evoked. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sybaritic bliss of being cradled close to Jared’s hard manliness and the swirling massage of the warm scented water. Did life have anyth
ing better to offer?
“I’ll turn into a prune,” she whispered, but such was her torpor that she was disinclined to make the effort getting out of the bath required.
In one smooth movement Jared rose and stepped out, stooped, gathered her in his arms and lifted her from the water to stand on her feet. Before she could move, he picked up a warm bath sheet from the heated towel rail and began blotting her flushed skin dry.
“I can dry myself,” she said in a feeble whisper.
“Shhh.” He laid a gentle finger over her lips. “Allow me the pleasure.”
Dried and dusted with body powder, Jared carried her to bed. She shivered slightly when her body came in contact with the cool percale of the sheets. Jared kissed her forehead and tucked the bedclothes around her.
Later, as they lay in bed, he stroked a gentle hand over her hair, down her shoulder and across the small of her back, but made no advances or demands. Just as she slipped across the edge of sleep she heard him murmur in a husky whisper, “Being aroused is being reprieved from the damned.”
Chapter Eight
The next morning they were up early to get everything ready for the first two hundred dairy heifers due to arrive that day.
While Jared set up the yards and paddocks to receive the expected stock, Winsome prepared a picnic lunch before taking Lacey to Catherine’s. She arrived back at the same time the stock and station agent arrived with the dairy orders she needed to fill out for grazing payment.
“I didn’t realise Jared was married,” he said, as he helped her with the paper work.
“We’ve been married almost eight years, but have been apart for several of them.” Winsome knew prevarication was pointless but the man’s open curiosity made her very uncomfortable. When Jared strode into the kitchen where they were working, she was relieved.
“Morning,” he greeted the agent briskly, before turning to her. “How’s it going? The first load of stock is on its way. Are you nearly finished?”
“I’m on the last one now.”
She continued copying the figures without haste, methodically attaching the finished form to the paperwork for that batch of cattle. The two men stood talking while they waited. She collected her papers and a couple of spare pens.
“Can you carry the picnic basket, Jared?” Winsome turned her back on the agent.
“She’s the right sort of wife, Jared. Looks after you well does she?” The agent asked. “A good woman is just what any man needs.”
The jocular, condescending tone made her cringe. Was that cretin about to ask Jared what she was like in bed?
“Winsome owns half of Totara Park, and shares in all facets of our operation,” Jared said coldly giving the agent a steely look.
Winsome hastily smothered a laugh at the agent’s comical shock. Jared intercepted her glance and winked.
“I didn’t realise you were an owner of Totara Park, Mrs Grainger,” the agent almost tripped over his tongue trying to correct his erroneous assumptions.
Winsome felt little sympathy for the man. There was no excuse for such blatant rudeness.
After he’d gone, they set off for the cattle yards.
“You’ll probably come up against some prejudice. It doesn’t hurt to let agents and travelling reps know you’re as much in command as I am. Catherine didn’t mind having Lacey for the day?”
“No. She was disappearing down to the stables with Quentin when I left.” She shot a mischievous glance at Jared. “Hasn’t Women Power reached the farms yet?”
“Most travelling reps aren’t condescending, but there’s the odd one who tries it on. That man won’t offend again.”
Winsome sent him a swift, shrewd glance.
The rural reps may have made an effort to treat rural women fairly, but remembering how assiduously Jared and his father had excluded her from the smallest involvement with the affairs of Totara Park, Winsome knew there was a long way to go before rural women received full equality in management.
His resentment and outrage at Harvey willing her a half-share in the farm he considered his moral and legal due was eloquent testimony.
As was his desire that she have another child.
He wanted a son, an heir, to ensure the continuance of the Totara Park dynasty.
Lacey, a mere female would not inherit any of this farmland. She would be cared for, much as Harvey had provided for Paige. Winsome understood this without the need for it to be put into words. But the land would go from father to son as it had done over the preceding generations. Rural New Zealand was as feudal as the Europe the early settlers had emigrated to escape from. The attitudes were now entrenched, and the abolition of death duties by politicians with vested interests had solidified these emerging rural dynasties.
Although she had to admit Jared was trying to change. He was more comfortable with her involvement although there was a long way to go yet.
Winsome had always sensed that, despite Harvey’s support, she’d never quite measured up to the honour of taking the Grainger name. And perhaps that was paranoia.
Angry at his manipulation, was she looking for shadows that didn’t exist? Winsome didn’t know, but the longer she pondered it the more suspicious she became.
Jared looked towards the road. “Here’s the first load of our grazers. Can you cope?”
“You’re not the only one on their mettle today, partner. Let me at ‘em.”
Jared laughed at her saucy grin and Winsome joined in, light-hearted, keen to get to work and determined she wouldn’t be found wanting.
He wanted an active partner, well; she’d do her best or die in the trying.
Last night something had shifted within their stormy relationship. When afraid for her safety, Jared had let down the barriers of his hostility confounding her with his gentle caring.
Waking this morning, Winsome felt like a different woman. Renewed and refreshed, she decided to take each moment as it came and do her best to salvage her marriage.
Jared was once again the dry, humorous man she’d fallen in love with and had married without a backward glance.
With a few telling words he’d stopped that man’s disrespect and elevated her position at Totara Park.
She didn’t doubt the news that she was now joint owner of the Grainger Estate would spread like wildfire.
At the yards, he was patient as he explained what he wanted.
The dairy heifers being unloaded were so quiet and used to being handled that Winsome never felt threatened. Quickly they established a routine.
The owner read each heifer’s identifying number from the small brass ear tag. Winsome recorded it in the Totara Park grazing book. Jared then tagged each heifer with a big, easy-to-read, colour-coded, plastic tag while she recorded the large tag number and colour beside the corresponding brass tag number.
Then each heifer was weighed on the cattle scales, its girth measured under the forelegs, and the animal was treated with a pour-on treatment for parasites.
Winsome recorded each weight and measurement and dosage of parasite treatment alongside the heifer’s identifying number.
When the load had been weighed, identified and tagged, the owner double-checked the figures Winsome had recorded, signed the book and the dairy order. She then stapled the tuberculosis movement certificate for each batch of heifers, in the Totara Park record book as verification of the heifers’ tuberculosis free herd status with Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries.
“How are you coping?” Jared looked over her shoulder at the record book.
“How does this look?” She held the book for him to inspect.
“It appears I’ve found an A-grade book keeper.” He gave her a slow, lazy smile that set her heart racing. “Did I tell you I hate book keeping?”
“You’re a fraud, Jared Grainger.” Winsome flushed and laughed. “You’ve manipulated me.”
Jared’s eyes went dark with emotion but they were kept too busy for any personal conversation until they’d fin
ished the fifth lot of cattle.
Winsome sat on a makeshift seat, sipped her coffee and devoured a filled roll from the picnic basket. Working in the cold air made her ravenous.
Jared watched her eating, relaxed and smiling. “You look about sixteen with chutney all around your mouth. Were you hungry?”
“Starving.” She cheerfully stuffed another huge bite in her mouth, knowing if they didn’t make the most of this lull between truckloads it could well be late afternoon before they had another chance to eat.
“You’re really enjoying the outside work aren’t you?” He was impressed with how swiftly she grasped instructions and her willingness to attempt whatever he asked of her.
And knew he’d seriously misjudged her in the past.
“It’s interesting.” Winsome frowned, mulling over the morning’s work. “There’s quite a difference in the size and weight of the different mobs of heifers isn’t there?”
“That’s the idea of weighing them on arrival and having the owner countersign the weigh book. Next year, when it’s time for these heifers to return to their home farms, there can be no arguments about their weights on arrival.” He sipped his coffee and gave her a considering look. “You’re not scared?”
“Not at all.” She wrinkled her nose. “They’re so much quieter than beef cattle.”
“They’re hand raised and accustomed to being handled.” He looked up as another truck pulled into the driveway and began its slow crawl down the farm access road to the loading race. “It’s back to it, Winsome. Coffee break is over.”
Quickly gathering their used cups, she tidied them away and shifted the basket to a safe place. She picked up her record books, assuming her position near the race scales. The first heifers bolted off the truck and down the loading race and leaped at the yard rails.
Winsome gave a startled yelp and jumped backwards.
“Stand well back,” Jared yelled. “This mob is crazy.”
Winsome didn’t need the warning. Unnerved she put even more distance between herself and the frenzied beasts as Jared and the owner tried to run them down the race.
