by Shirley Wine
Winsome took a frightened breath as one animal turned in the race and kicked furiously at the rail, narrowly missing Fly’s head. The nimble Border collie leaped backwards.
The next heifer charged the head bail, almost knocking Jared off his feet. He managed to trigger the locking mechanism but leaped backwards as the heifer tossed its head and bellowed, foaming at the mouth and lashing out with its hind feet.
“Are you sure these are dairy heifers?” Jared shouted above the racket.
“They’d be okay if that silly bitch wasn’t scarin’ them.” The owner let fly with a string of profanity that made her flinch.
Winsome inhaled an angry breath, heat scalding her cheeks. How dare that man speak to me like that?
Jared drew himself up to his full six foot one and squared his impressive shoulders as he impaled the short, balding man on a hard glare.
“That’s my wife you’re speaking to,” he said so quietly the other man should have been warned. “No one speaks to her like that. I’d like you to apologise.”
“Me? Apologise to a sheila? Ya’re outta ya tree mate.”
If there was one thing she hated, it was being called a sheila.
But derogatory as she found the slang, there was no way she was getting into an argument with this guttersnipe, so she gritted her teeth and turned away.
Without a word, Jared signalled to the truck driver watching the whole scene with a deadpan expression.
“Load these animals back on the truck—” Jared smiled at the truck driver—”and deliver them back to where they came from.”
“Ya can’t do that.” The short man was dancing with rage. “Ya’ve contracted to graze them.”
“My partner and I refuse to do business with you,” Jared replied evenly without raising his voice.
“Where’s ya bloody partner then, I’ll talk to ‘im.” He looked around.
“With pleasure.” Jared walked across to Winsome and put a hand under her elbow. “ My partner.” He looked up at the grinning truck driver. “Now we’ll load these stock.”
The disgruntled man stomped to his utility cursing loudly about uppity landowners who had sheilas for partners. As he roared away in a spray of gravel, Jared and the truck driver exchanged grins and loaded the cattle back on the truck.
“Good on ya mate.” The truck driver pushed his woollen hat to the back of his head. “It’s time someone took that little twerp down a peg. These are no more dairy heifers than I am. You’re well shot of them. They’d have given you a heap of trouble.”
“Swearing at Winsome was just the excuse.” Jared grinned. “These heifers have been raised on cows in the back country. He must think I came down in the last shower.”
As the truckload of cattle pulled away Jared gave Winsome a teasing smile. “Reckon me and my sheila have time for a second cup of coffee?”
“Don’t call me that.” She warned, advancing on him, a glint in her eye. “Unless you want to wear your coffee.”
“Pax,” he said laughing as he backed away, his hands held palm up, his devilish grin making her heart race. “It sure got your dander up.”
“I just hate that word,” she said with a rueful grin. “Which is ridiculous. It’s only slang and mild at that.”
“Australians use it as a form of endearment.”
“Which proves what? We’re more cultured this side of the ditch?”
That made Jared laugh harder and he nearly spilled the coffee he was pouring from the thermos flask. “No, just that trans-Tasman rivalry’s alive and well.”
The shared laughter filled her with warm contentment. They sat in the sun and savoured their coffee and were just finishing it when another truck turned in the gate.
“Let’s hope this lot doesn’t want to demolish the yards. Could you imagine what those heifers would be like to milk?” A deep rich chuckle escaped him. “They’d probably kick you into the middle of next week.”
Winsome shuddered at the thought of getting close to those wicked flying hooves. The truck backed into the race and unloaded its cargo, and she caught her breath as the dainty yellow Jersey yearlings picked their way down the loading race. With their wide shallow faces, velvety pansy eyes and black muzzles they were as different from the last lot of yearlings as it was possible to imagine.
“Aren’t they lovely?” she breathed looking up at Jared with shining eyes. “Now I wouldn’t mind milking these.”
The heifers walked across to the rail and sniffed curiously at her. She put out her hand and scratched the broad nose of the one in front. The heifer pulled back with a skittish snort, kicking up her heels like a playful deer, making Winsome laugh.
“Stone the crows,” said a surprised male voice. “Jared, you sly devil. How long have you had a lovely lady helping you on the farm? Don’t tell me you’ve given up your bachelor ways?”
“He gave them up a long time ago,” Winsome said cheerfully, liking this weather-beaten man on sight. “We’ve been married almost eight years.”
His face registered shock as he pushed his battered hat to the back of his greying head and looked from one to the other.
“This old reprobate is Jock Tanner from Whitehall. Jock meet my wife, Winsome.” Jared introduced her and Jock shook her hand. “We’ve been living apart for the past five years.”
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He shook Jared’s hand. “Sorry to hear about you losing your dad.”
“It was sudden.” Jared accepted his sympathy. “But he died doing what he loved and that’s all that any of us can ask. Winsome and I are now farming Totara Park in partnership. The rest of the family have moved away.”
Hearing Jared gloss over the reasons behind the family moving away took some of the glow from Winsome’s mood. She resented that he wasn’t upfront in acknowledging Harvey’s manipulation and Gaelen’s role in their break up.
“Pardon an old man his curiosity, but why have you been living apart?” Jock looked from one to the other.
Jared’s face settled in a grim cast. “We prefer not to discuss it.”
As they worked with the heifers, Winsome could see the cogs working behind the older man’s shrewd, twinkling eyes. When they finished and Jock had signed the weigh book, his penetrating look made her realise she wasn’t mistaken.
“I didn’t mean to distress you, lass,” he apologised quietly as Jared followed the heifers down the race to lock them in their paddock. “I’m a garrulous old man. I’ve remembered. You and Jared lost a son, drowned in a pond if I remember rightly.”
“Yes,” Winsome said on a long soft sigh. Turning towards the old man, she saw the warmth and compassion in his grey eyes, and admitted in a rush, “I couldn’t take living with Gaelen so I left and raised Lacey until we returned after Harvey’s funeral.”
Winsome winced as she heard her own words. And I was disappointed with Jared glossing over the truth?
“Gaelen’s a hard woman, and dangerous when crossed.” Jock looked grave and put a gnarled hand on her shoulder. “I knew her as a girl, before she married Harvey. She’d have made your life hell if she didn’t like you.”
There was something so comforting in this kind man’s genuine concern that Winsome found herself opening up as she’d never done in her life before.
“Tell me about it.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “She was furious when Harvey banished her and Paige from Totara Park.”
“Harvey banished them?” Jock lifted his cap and scratched his head. “How did he do that?”
“It’s a wonder you haven’t heard. Cambridge is abuzz with it. Harvey gave Gaelen and Paige thirty days to shift out after he died or lose everything. I’m not the most popular person around.”
Jock gave a surprised whistle and his eyes widened. “So what goes around comes around.”
Apprehension whispered through Winsome. “What do you mean?”
“Gaelen married Harvey for his position.” Jock gave a scornful laugh. “Lady of the Manor and all that
garbage. As Gaelen Grainger she certainly looked down her nose at those lesser connected mortals.”
Poor white trash. How often had Gaelen called her that?
“Jared said she brought wealth into the family.”
“She did at that.” Jock gave her another penetrating look. “And as all the stock and such has been sold here I guess Harvey only left Jared what he himself inherited.”
Startled by his insight, Winsome had never considered this. She remembered wondering if Harvey had been afraid of Gaelen. Considered in that light, his will made a strange sort of sense.
Had Harvey been out for revenge?
“You be careful, lass,” the old man said grimly. “Gaelen is a vengeful woman.”
The warning set goose bumps-tap dancing across Winsome’s skin.
It was dusk when they finished processing the last batch of heifers. Pleasantly tired, Winsome allowed Jared to shoo her out of the kitchen to have a bath and relax while he prepared dinner.
When Lacey shepherded her into the lounge and she saw the festive table setting she was so surprised. The new drapes were pulled and the fire burning brightly added to the cosy atmosphere. The coffee table was set with candles and crystal goblets. A bottle of sparkling wine rested in an ice bucket.
“What are we celebrating?” she asked bemused.
“The official start of our farming partnership.” Jared opened the wine, releasing the cork with a subdued pop to fill their glasses. She took hers and he raised his in a salute. “To the arrival of our first stock.”
Winsome clinked her glass with his echoing the unorthodox toast. Jared was certainly mellowing if he could toast their partnership. Or had she proved her worth today?
She sat on a floor cushion while he served the meal, and as she tasted the shrimp teriyaki on a bed of fluffy white rice, her eyes widened in appreciation. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
He gave a husky laugh. “I took cookery lessons.”
“Gaelen let you loose in her kitchen?” Winsome shook her head in disbelief. When she’d lived here Gaelen had refused to allow her to make a cup of tea unsupervised.
“Mother didn’t have the only kitchen in Cambridge.”
The casual words sent jealousy swirling through Winsome. Had Jared had another woman in the years she’d been away? Caroline?
The glance he gave her sliced to the heart. “I was quite safe with other women. You saw to that very effectively.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned, perplexed by his cryptic words.
“Later. This isn’t a fit subject for our very attentive audience.”
Winsome glanced at Lacey who was absorbing everything. Jared rose to his feet and cleared the table, sending Lacey off to get into her pyjamas.
“You stay there. I’ll settle our little pumpkin tonight.”
Sitting in the candlelit room, Winsome worried his words more than a little nervous. Was this a precursor to renewed hostilities?
“Is she asleep?” Winsome asked as he returned with a coffee tray.
“Out for the count. She had a busy day at Levelly Lodge.” He poured them coffee, the planes of his face etched deeply in the flickering light.
She felt uneasy at his expression as he sat on the floor near her. Without speaking he drew her closer until she was resting against him.
“What did you mean?” She resumed their earlier conversation as if there’s been no break.
“How many lovers did you have?” He held her face so he could see into her eyes.
“None.” She gave a tiny sigh. “Oh, I tried, but I couldn’t go through with it, he wasn’t you.”
His grip tightened convulsively before it loosened and he pulled her head onto his shoulder soothing a gentle hand over her forehead.
“And you?” she demanded.
“I dated enough women but I didn’t have any lovers,” he said with a brutal softness that made her flinch. “When you walked through that door you left me bereaved, bereft and impotent.”
It took several stunned moments before the impact of his words sank in. She turned in his arms, looking up at him. Whatever else she had expected, it wasn’t this.
“You’re joking?” she begged softly. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“Do you think I would joke about something like that?” he growled, his deep voice husky with distress.
Winsome searched his face and the evidence was there in the deep grooves scored down each side of his mouth and the suffering reflected in his eyes. No wonder he had been so bitter and hostile. To a man as virile and proud as Jared, impotency would be devastating.
Was that why he had never come to see her?
Acting on blind feminine instinct she turned to him and with the fire at her back covered his mouth with hers in slow yearning kisses as she pushed him backwards onto the rug all the time reassuring him with her actions that she found him desirable and had no doubts about his masculinity.
He lifted his hand to her breast and she caught it and laid it back down, moving her lips down to the taut column of his throat. He lay with his eyes closed as she slipped the buttons of his shirt undone and slipped it off his shoulders.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” he growled huskily.
“There’s no trying about it. I am seducing you.” Her husky laugh set his heart thundering under her fingertips. “You’ve seduced me many times. I’m just returning the pleasure.”
“Forward hussy,” he murmured, almost purring as her hands sought out tense muscles and sensitive pleasure spots.
He was fairly groaning before she raised herself over him and took him deep inside. He caught her hips with strong hands as they strove together for release. When it came, she collapsed on top of him, his heart beating a thunderous tattoo under her ear.
“It wasn’t true, was it?” she whispered, not really believing him.
“It was true,” he affirmed softly, touching her hair with tender fingers. “I never had any stirrings in my loins until I saw you at Dad’s funeral. Even though you were so cold and so distant, all I wanted to do was seduce you on the spot.”
Winsome remembered that intense moment but she’d thought he was the cold and distant one. “Is that why you never came to us?”
“It was a good part of it. I thought you wouldn’t want the man I’d become.” He buried his face in her hair, and she felt him trembling. “That first night, I was desperate and so afraid I’d not be able to make love to you. It was torture.”
This admission brought tears to her eyes. Jared had to trust her to admit to something so personal, something that left him so vulnerable.
“I didn’t know and I’d never have guessed,” Winsome said gently.
“After we’d made love and you cried so bitterly, I thought I’d hurt you,” he said in a low, tormented voice, leaning up and smoothing an ebony curl off her forehead. “Having you back is like being reprieved from damnation.”
“That’s what you said last night,” she said looking up at him.
Later, cuddled under the warmth of the duvet after they’d moved from the lounge to the bedroom, insulated against the cold night, Jared made love to her again. Gentle, caressing love that lifted her to the realms of enchantment.
As he slept, she lay awake a long time. Jared had to care deeply to make love like that, but it brought Winsome very small comfort. Guilt and apprehension mingled together in a heavy burden. How could she inflict further crushing agony when Jared had already suffered so cruelly?
Chapter Nine
It was another cold, crisp night when Quentin and Catherine came to dinner. The sky had faded to the luminous, eggshell blue that precedes a hoar-frost. The stark silhouettes of the trees formed leafless sentinels against the darkening sky.
“It’s as cold as a witch’s tit out there tonight,” Quentin said testily, blowing on his hands and rubbing them to restore the circulation. “There’s already frost on the ground.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve just thawed
out.” Winsome groaned. “We’ve spent the whole day outside, setting up electric fences and feeding out hay. We have another four hundred heifers due tomorrow and Jared wanted the paddocks ready for them.”
She threw another log on the fire, watching as the sparks scurried and fluttered and then flew up the chimney.
“What’s a witch’s tit, Uncle Quentin?” Lacey asked with wide-eyed curiosity.
“Oh Lord,” he muttered ruefully, a flush darkening his cheeks. “You’d best not use that expression, Lacey. Or your mum will get after me with her broom stick.”
Winsome struggled not to smile. Catherine stepped forward and saved the moment, glancing around their sitting room, eyes dancing at Quentin’s embarrassment.
“You’ve made this room warm and cosy.”
“Yes. Jared put the table in here. He thought it would be more comfortable than eating in the kitchen.”
“Speaking of whom, where is he?”
“Cooking dinner.” Winsome laughed at his ludicrous expression.
“Since when has Jared done any cooking? This I have to see.”
“Would you like a beer?” When he nodded she gave him two cans. “Take one out to the cook before he goes on strike.”
Winsome poured Catherine a glass of sherry and Lacey a glass of lemonade.
“I must confess to being as surprised as Quentin,” Winsome admitted, pulling a rueful face as they sat down. “Jared’s a fabulous cook. I’m suitably impressed.”
They both laughed. The serving hatch opened and Jared leered through the space. “Are you mocking my expertise?”
“Never. We were laughing at Quentin’s reaction,” Catherine soothed his ruffled pride. “It certainly smells delicious.”
Lacey took her new library book to Catherine, and clambering on her knee, listened to the entrancing tale of Willie Wombat. As Catherine finished the story, the serving hatch opened and dinner slid through. Winsome transferred the steaming dishes to the table then the hot plates Jared passed her. He served as Quentin opened the bottle of wine he’d brought.
“Cheers.” Jared lifted his glass and they clinked glasses echoing the toast.
