Mr. Andrus leaned her back against the bed and stretched out beside her. Evidence of his desire pressed against her leg, but she wasn’t afraid. He grabbed a handful of skirt, pulling it up, baring her thighs. Gentle fingers traced an invisible line over her knee to the top of her stocking-clad thigh. Liquid fire coursed through her limbs. If his fingers moved up a few inches more, he might soothe the ache growing between her legs.
Mr. Andrus stroked the side of her face. “I want you, Bridgit.”
She melted against him. His sensuous mouth hovered above hers. Parting her lips, she moaned when his tongue slid along hers, hot and seeking.
With a sudden jerk, his head snapped up and he stared at her as if he couldn’t comprehend what they were doing.
“Dammit. We shouldn’t get involved like this. You’re here to care for Olivia, not see to my needs.” He sprang from the bed. Deep shame replaced her desire. Her face burned with embarrassment and she was grateful for the darkness. Tugging her skirt into place, Bridgit sat up. She professed to be a lady, but a few randy touches and some kisses were almost her undoing. Could she claim to be any better than the women at the Factory who threw themselves at men?
When she raised her eyes again, his back was turned and long fingers swept through his dark hair.
“I’m going to bed now. Good night.” The words were short and his tone clipped. Heavy steps and a few quick strides took him out of the room.
Mr. Andrus was as flustered as her, though she couldn’t imagine why. A man like him must have dozens of women at his beck and call when he visited town. Why did he feel guilty for something she’d willingly participated in?
She pressed her fingers to her mouth, committing the taste of him to memory. As long as she lived, she’d never forget this night. She didn’t know how she’d face him tomorrow, not after admitting she’d let him have his way with her.
Far away, thunder rumbled. The storm was nearly over, but something else was beginning.
8
Jonah hadn’t expected her to look so vulnerable. It was one thing to comfort her fears, help her get past them. It was another to savor her the way he would a sweet wine.
He’d made mistakes concerning their brief relationship. He couldn’t have let the stranger on the road know she was a single convict woman. Protecting her had been the right thing, but laying with her hadn’t. Attending her injury was right, but dreaming about her body wasn’t. And spying on her at the Paynes’ was the biggest mistake he’d made yet.
Without a shadow of a doubt he knew the matron’s plan: Send the pitiful young woman with a virile grazier. Bridgit was beautiful; she possessed manners and a soft-spoken way about her. She’d handled the scene in the kitchen without panic and she knew how to take care of children. What more could a man want in a wife when women were scarce?
Not him. It had crossed his mind to marry, although he balked at the idea. His thirtieth birthday loomed, but why did it mean he needed to produce an heir right away? Nothing wrong with waiting a few more years.
For now, he planned to stick it out as a bachelor. He wouldn’t return to Bridgit’s bedroom. He’d forget her silken skin, the way she yielded to his touch, and her moans of pleasure. It didn’t matter after he left her room, he’d lain awake half the night imagining those things.
He worried she might seek out one of his hired hands to ease her needs. Would she heed his warnings about taking a lover? He wouldn’t stand for any of his men pursuing her. She was too delicate, too sensitive for them. They’d use her and throw her back to the slums of Parramatta before they did the honorable thing. The notion galled him.
“Boss, Lucy threw a shoe last night. Should we let her rest today?”
Jonah turned his head to acknowledge the speaker. Phillip Banner, one of the permanent jackaroos, held a chestnut mare’s lead shank.
“Aye. Be sure you tell Rupe to put a new shoe on her and check the others.”
Phil nodded. “Sure thing. How’s your new girl workin’ out?”
The question sounded innocent enough. Jonah searched it for clues anyway. Phil was single, a few years Jonah’s senior, but young enough to find a missus and get started on a pack of brats.
“She’ll do.”
“Rupe said she’s pretty,” Phil continued, clearly fishing for information.
“Did he?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Yes.” Phil swallowed. “Will it be a problem if I introduced myself to her? I’m sure she was tired last night. I didn’t aim to be a bother.”
Jonah bristled at the idea. “She’s off limits, if you must know. She isn’t here for rough bushmen to paw at.”
Phil didn’t blink at the tone. “You puttin’ some kind of claim on her, mate?”
“No, but I’m sending her back straightaway. What’s the sense of getting involved with her?”
It was true enough. Let Phil challenge it. Friend or not, Jonah wasn’t afraid to fire him. The nerve of the man, asking a question like that. Everyone was presumptuous when it came to bringing a new woman to Laurie Lark. Exactly the reason he’d wanted an older female.
“Oh. Well, I reckoned she could do with a friend while she’s here. Must be hard comin’ to a place like this all by your lonesome.”
“She doesn’t need friends. She’s a prisoner, she’s not here for a tea party.” He jerked the girth tight, causing the gelding to shift uneasily.
“That’s cold, Jonah. Everybody needs someone to talk to. I can’t see her wantin’ to be mates with Martha, either. That old bird is meaner than a mob of brumbies.”
“It’s none of your affair, Phil.” He glared at the jackaroo. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Phil’s brows shot up. He turned to leave, muttering, “Touchy, ain’t we?” and sauntered off without another word.
Jonah stared after him. Let any one of the men ride to the Factory, or any gaol for that matter, and get a bride if they were so fired up about having a woman. Bridgit was his. Help. She was his help. He shook his head.
His sister should’ve been there, taking care of her own daughter. If Jonah ever got his hands on Langnecker, he’d have hell to pay for ruining Charlotte.
He took the gelding’s reins. There were chores to see about. Work that would help him bury these feelings. He’d already spent too much time on them. Staying around the house would make things worse.
* * * *
Embarrassed didn’t begin to describe how Bridgit felt. Shame kept her awake most of the night and didn’t let go during the day. Faced with the choice, she’d let Mr. Andrus kiss and touch her again.
Relief surged through her when she discovered he’d gone out early. She had a hard time meeting Martha’s eyes over breakfast. If they looked at each other too long, would Martha suspect what happened?
At least the housecleaning was going well. A warm, waxy scent filled the parlor. She’d spent the entire morning wiping down shelves, bookcases and furniture. There was something satisfying about removing the gray dust and revealing the true colors of the objects beneath. Such pretty things, and the house was beginning to look lived in again.
Over the hearth, a large oil portrait of a couple dominated the wall. Mr. Andrus bore a striking resemblance to the man, clearly a likeness of his parents. They looked proud, and a little haughty. The painter had captured the woman’s smiling eyes. Bridgit recognized the same warmth in Mr. Andrus’s gaze when he smiled. She’d like to meet them, but he’d never said whether they were alive or not, just that the station was named for his mother.
A heavy marble bust of an ugly man with a hawkish nose and a wreath of laurels on his head commanded her attention. He looked ghostly under the dust. She wiped the top of his curly head, the leaves and the oversized nose. Next to the statue, a set of medals was displayed in a dark frame. War medals for valor and bravery. The dates indicated they were Mr. Andrus’s grandfather’s. Something to be proud of, something that made the Andrus family different from most people.
Rapid pounding
at the front door startled her. Grabbing the mantelpiece, she steadied herself.
A visitor?
Bridgit hastened off the chair as the knock came again. Martha appeared in the doorway.
“Should I get that?” Bridgit asked.
A scowl adorned Martha’s lined face. “It’s part of your job. I’m the cook. I don’t answer doors.” She whirled and returned to the kitchen.
Bridgit brushed her hands off and left the room. The knock sounded again, so fast it seemed urgent. Smiling timidly, she opened the door.
“May I help you?”
A tall, dirty man stood there. His eyes registered surprise when he looked at her. He held a battered hat and he tousled his sun-bleached hair with his free hand. The state of his dust-covered clothes and face suggested he’d come a long way. A straight nose and square jaw made his eyes stand out despite the grime on his face. She had the strangest feeling she’d seen the blue of his eyes somewhere before.
“Hello miss, I was expecting old Martha. I always knew if Jonah had any sense he’d give her walking papers.”
Bridgit glanced over her shoulder before she answered. “I’m afraid Mrs. Jackson is still with us. I’m the housekeeper.”
He cracked a grin. “Ah. Well, if you don’t mind, I’ve come to see Miss Charlotte.”
Bridgit arched an eyebrow. “Might I inquire your name, sir?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked past her, like he expected Charlotte to round the corner at any moment. “Robert Langnecker. You can call me Rob, if you like.”
The man Farjana and Rupert had mentioned. Curious and unnerving. He fit the image of a bushranger. “Wait here, sir.”
His smile faded. “She’s going to refuse to see me again, isn’t she?”
Nervous, Bridgit tried to smile, but failed. “Please, just a moment.”
She shut the door with force and lifted her skirt. She all but ran for the kitchen, nearly colliding with Martha.
“Who is it?”
She didn’t see how she could send him away. Perhaps Martha would do it instead. “A Mr. Robert Langnecker, ma’am. He wants–”
“To see Charlotte. Tell him he can’t. She isn’t receiving visitors, especially the likes of him,” Martha snapped.
“Has no one told him that she passed?” She couldn’t imagine why not.
“It’s none of his concern. Tell him she’s ill, you fool.” Martha rolled her eyes. “Praise the lord that you didn’t let him in. He’s like a stray dog–feed him once and he’ll never leave.”
“But, ma’am, it isn’t right to withhold information. He’ll only come back,” Bridgit said, worried Mr. Langnecker would see through her lie.
Without warning, Martha raised her hand and slapped Bridgit across the face. Shocked, Bridgit lifted her hand to the stinging skin.
Martha pointed at the doorway. “Go. Do not question me.”
Tears of pain burned Bridgit’s eyes. What had she done wrong? No one had said she’d need to lie to strangers. Gritting her teeth, she stomped out of Martha’s kitchen. She wouldn’t set foot inside it again until the woman left. At least until Olivia’s stomach demanded feeding.
“Old biddy,” she muttered as she opened the door once more.
Mr. Langnecker and Rupert argued in the yard, waving their hands and talking over one another. Farjana watched from a short distance away. Worry flashed in her dark eyes.
“There, she’ll tell you. Isn’t Charlotte waiting for me, miss?” With a look both hopeful and worried, he settled his gaze on her.
Bridgit shook her head. “I’m afraid that she is not receiving visitors. She’s rather ill.”
Concern filled his eyes. “Has someone sent for the doctor, at least?”
“Yes, sir. And Mrs. Payne has been helping. She may be recovering, but she’s still not well enough to see anyone.” She lowered her gaze to the smooth wood of the porch.
“Come on, mate. Jonah will have a fit if he sees you hangin’ ’round here. You’re not his best chum, you know.” Rupert settled a firm hand on Langnecker’s shoulder.
Bridgit shut the door and leaned against the wall. What was going on at Laurie Lark?
The door opened and Farjana slipped through it. She pressed her fingers against Bridgit’s cheek. She frowned, shaking her head. “That old woman is a menace. Why did she hit you?”
Bridgit brushed off the concern. “It doesn’t matter. Thank you for caring, but I can take a licking as well as anyone.” The spot was only a little tender. She supposed it was an angry red against her light skin, but it would fade before Mr. Andrus saw it. If she even had the courage to look at him.
“I’ll tell him what she did. He’ll speak to her and she won’t lay a hand on you again,” Farjana promised.
“Heavens, no. All I need is more trouble.”
“There’s plenty of it today, Miss Bridgit. Rupert didn’t see Langnecker, or he’d have turned him away before he made it to the door. I don’t know why we can’t tell him the truth. He’s been sniffing ’round here for months trying to get a look at Miss Charlotte. Mr. Jonah thought he would go away sooner.”
“Why is he asking about Charlotte?”
Farjana glanced to make sure Martha wasn’t within listening distance. She pulled Bridgit aside. “He was a convict and he spent the last of his sentence working for Mr. Jonah. The droving time came and Rupert went along to care for the horses. Langnecker was left here to mind the place. He and Miss Charlotte became close. Some of the jackaroos say he’s Olivia’s father.”
Bridgit’s jaw dropped. “Shouldn’t Mr. Andrus confront him? Why would he keep Olivia’s birth a secret?”
“Miss Charlotte never admitted it to anyone else. No one knows for certain. Langnecker went on an expedition to the west. It’s opening up and he thought they might grant him land out there. He was gone well before Mr. Jonah returned from Port Jackson. Well before Miss Charlotte started showing.” Farjana glanced toward the door as if she expected someone to burst through it. “Langnecker doesn’t know about Olivia.”
“It isn’t right. Someone should tell him that poor Charlotte has passed on, at the very least,” Bridgit said.
Farjana shook her head. “Mr. Jonah believes Langnecker will go back to Western Australia. He has not, but becomes more and more persistent. Rupert keeps an eye out for him.”
It explained why Mr. Andrus looked grim upon the news of the ex-convict’s visit. She could hardly wait for Martha’s rendition of the goings-on. The old woman would tell it as Bridgit cordially inviting Langnecker to tea, and conspiring with him to rob Mr. Andrus blind.
* * * *
Olivia stubbornly refused to burp. Bridgit patted the baby’s back, bouncing her while she walked. Footsteps thudded on the porch, announcing Mr. Andrus’s return. Either he was in a hurry, or he’d caught wind of Mr. Langnecker’s visit. If she gambled, she would have put money on the latter.
“Martha! Bridgit!” The windows rattled with his call. Bridgit, baby on her shoulder, went to greet him. It was no time to worry over the previous night’s occurrences.
“What did he want?” Mr. Andrus demanded. His eyes blazed and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
She thought he’d have an apoplexy if he didn’t calm down. Clearly their stolen moments were far from his mind.
“He asked to see your sister.” Bridgit bounced Olivia again. “I know you don’t want him in the house, so I turned him away.”
“He didn’t try to force his way in?” The question carried a measure of suspicion.
Bridgit shook her head. “He was polite enough, but seemed relieved it wasn’t Martha at the door.”
His hand mussed a path through his hair. “He’s tangled with Martha before. Damn his hide. Don’t answer the door if he’s at it anymore.”
“No, sir.”
Olivia burped and followed with a coo.
Mr. Andrus frowned, his brows drawn together as though he thought the noises were unnecessary.
Bridgit
smiled and rubbed Olivia’s back. “We’ve waited on that for more than a few minutes.”
Martha burst out of the kitchen, waving a flour-covered finger at Bridgit. “Jonah! Thank the lord. That rascal Langnecker was back today. He nearly got in because of her.”
Mr. Andrus’s gaze didn’t waver. “Farjana tells me you’ve been rough with Bridgit. I thought we discussed that already.”
Martha looked contrite as a schoolgirl. “Now, Jonah. She was being smart. She didn’t get anything more than she deserved. You did say it’s my duty to see she remembers her place.”
“Bridgit, you’re dismissed. Martha and I need to have a few more words on the subject.” His voice left no room for argument.
Farjana was right about trouble in the air. She hadn’t reached the stairs yet when she heard Martha protesting.
“I don’t like her. I don’t like having her in the house. I know she’s thinking of all the things she can steal. Looking over every item, moving them around. Why, have you seen the parlor? Everything is out of place.”
“You know things have to be moved in order to clean them.” Mr. Andrus used a pacifying tone.
“If she changes everything, how will we keep track? Mark my words, things will start disappearing. Your sister’s jewelry, the good silverware, your grandfather’s medals. Who knows what she’ll purloin. If you give her liberties, she’ll walk all over you.”
The old woman sounded outraged. Bridgit wondered if sitting in the kitchen all day with her hands tucked under her would appease the cook. Angry and disgusted, she stomped up the stairs, hoping Martha heard every step. She wished Farjana hadn’t mentioned the slap. It didn’t hurt anymore and hadn’t left a mark. Bringing it up was only going to make things more unpleasant between them.
Putting up with Martha was not as bad as living at the Factory, but walking on eggshells around the old woman was not what she’d hoped for. It was clear where Mr. Andrus’s loyalties lay. He’d do everything to keep Martha happy. That was fine, just fine. She wasn’t as fussy as the old woman. Let him pat her hand and tell her the miserable excuse for a nursemaid would be gone soon.
The Convict and the Cattleman Page 6
