“You can help me pick, if you want. Miss Charlotte loved the gardens. Canning was one of her favorite times of year. Best get a hat though. Your pretty skin ain’t made for this kind of sun. And bring the baby out. Fresh air is good for her.”
Picking up her skirt, she re-entered the house. Noise from the kitchen suggested Millicent was tossing the pots and pans around the room instead of putting them away.
“May the saints give me the patience not to strangle her,” Bridgit whispered. “With people like her around me, I’ll never get a pardon.”
She had no hat of her own. Using Charlotte’s sewing box was one thing, but wearing her hats was another. There were several, including riding hats, bonnets, and a wide-brimmed straw hat she’d surely used for gardening.
The armoire, stuffed with colorful gowns, needed heavy persuasion to shut again before she got the latch locked. Heaven help her if Millicent caught her sorting through Charlotte’s things.
Straw hat shadowing her face, she gathered a drowsy Olivia and located Farjana among the peas. She arranged Olivia’s basket beneath a shady acacia, then spread her skirt between the rows.
The hot work allowed her thoughts to wander. The scratchy material of her dress was made worse by the moisture gathered around her collar and waist. Pulling the collar didn’t help because the material stuck to her skin straightaway when she let go.
“Why do you wear those dresses?” Farjana asked.
Once she’d longed for satin and silk, but now she’d trade a week’s worth of food for simple cotton. “They’re all I have.”
“Mr. Jonah might take more notice if you wore something else. You should use some of Miss Charlotte’s and put some pretty stitching on them like you do for Miss Olivia.”
Bridgit pretended to be shocked. “Why would I want Jonah to notice me?”
Farjana gave her a sly smile. “’Cause you don’t want to go back to Parramatta. Not the gaol, but maybe to get married.”
Bridgit dumped a handful of peas in the basket. “I don’t know about that.”
“You gonna tell me you couldn’t be happy here? Watching Miss Olivia grow up? Having Mr. Jonah’s babies?”
Bridgit turned her face away, but she shrugged. “He doesn’t want me.”
“Then learn how to make him want you.”
Surprised, she stared at Farjana. “How would I do that?”
“You start by touching him. On the shoulder, or brushing back his hair. Sway your hips. Why else have you got hips? Talk to him soft and sweet. Lick your lips when he’s watching. He’ll notice.”
She couldn’t imagine flirting openly. “Farjana, it sounds silly.”
“Then when he notices you, talk to the other jackaroos. You do the same thing ’round them and he’ll go crazy, wanting you. He won’t like it if you show them attention.”
She gaped. “I should think not. He doesn’t want me around the other jackaroos.”
“He don’t want them to steal you away. Trust me. Men ain’t hard to learn.”
Bridgit bit her lower lip. A few light touches and some smiles wouldn’t go amiss. They were lovers, after all, but she wanted no part of flirting with the jackaroos. Not even Phillip, the handsome man who’d helped her. Handsome, yes, but attracting his attention would bring trouble sure as the sun rose and set. She’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime.
“You need something pretty to wear next week,” Farjana continued as if the conversation hadn’t turned to men.
Curiosity made her look up. “Why is that?”
“We’re having company. A big party. Dinners and horse racing and dancing. It’s lots of fun. Lots of work too, but worth the trouble.”
Uncertainty replaced the curiosity. “No one said anything about a party before.”
“Laurie Lark's best tradition. When Mr. Arthur and Mrs. Laura got married there was a big party and every year after. Even after she died, no one wanted to stop because she had such fun bringing the neighbors together. With Miss Charlotte gone, it’s up to us and Martha to handle feeding everyone.”
Bridgit snapped a bean pod off the vine. “I’m sure Martha will welcome any ideas we have with a warm embrace.”
Farjana waved away the concern. “You worry too much. Martha will be busy cooking. She won’t have time to oversee other details. You didn’t know Miss Charlotte, but she loved her flowers, and that’s why I tend the garden. We’re gonna make it look like she ain’t gone. And you’re gonna have the best time you’ve had since you got here.”
* * * *
Millicent lingered far longer than Martha did, talking with Jonah. Bridgit sat in the parlor, sewing and waiting for the second she could breathe again without fear of Millicent’s wrath. When the buggy rolled out of the yard, she expected Jonah to come reprimand her for speaking sharply to his cook’s daughter.
His heavy footfalls approached the parlor and his form filled the doorway.
She put the sewing aside.
“Mind if I join you?” A soft smile played on his lips.
“Of course not. It’s your parlor.”
He sat, crossing one ankle over his knee. Dark eyes roved over her. He’d dressed for dinner, replacing his dusty work clothes with a clean white shirt and tan moleskin breeches that hugged his legs. No one would guess he’d spent the day chasing cattle.
His smile remained fixed. She feared she’d blush under his scrutiny, so she busied herself undoing a crooked stitch.
“Did you and Millicent get along?”
Bridgit grimaced. “She believes I’m going to steal her birthright.”
“Which is?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.
“You.”
She considered telling him Millicent’s plans to sell Laurie Lark and toss Olivia out. But if the other woman hadn’t brought up the miserable conversation between them, there was no reason she should reveal it.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” He pushed his hand through his hair, a clear indication he was unhappy. The dark locks stood at odd angles. She imagined smoothing the soft strands.
He sighed. “I suppose I’ve got to tell them I don’t plan to marry her.”
Bridgit retrieved the scissors and hid a smile. “Martha will poison your supper.”
“She’s always been loyal. When my parents were married, she took the job as cook even though she was younger than my mother. They came here together. My mother, who was titled and bound to inherit an English estate, and her maid, little Martha.”
His gaze settled on the portrait above the hearth.
In her serge dress and scuffed boots with the worn soles, Bridgit didn’t compare to a well-bred lady from England. The slight smile his mother wore looked condescending instead of gracious.
She returned to her sewing. “They were a handsome couple.”
“You’d never know it was an arranged marriage. Not by looking at them. They truly loved each other. Father was devastated when she died. He removed the painting because he couldn’t bear the sight of it. Charlotte hung it again after he passed on.”
“That’s what this party is about, isn’t it? Celebrating the time of year your parents married.”
His gaze shifted from the painting. “I suppose. We’ve been hosting for years. I never think much about it.”
“You’re fortunate to have others who are. Farjana said she’ll take care of decorating. Of course, I’m available to care for the less pleasant details. I expect Martha will have me washing dishes until the end of the month.” She tied off the thread on the stitching.
“Clean-up is the least of my worries. I’ll be glad when it’s over.” His eyes were on Olivia’s basket.
She slept, unaware of her uncle’s distress.
Bridgit’s heart fluttered with pity. “You can’t hide her forever.”
“She’ll grow up with people talking about her. How will she ever find a decent husband? I’ve already heard ugly rumors about her mother. Even with the influence my name can give her, it’s going to be diff
icult.”
The concern on his face was heart-wrenching. “I don’t think she has anything to worry about. You won’t let her be hurt.”
Deep lines formed on his forehead. “Somehow I let her mother get hurt. I know about cattle, not babies who’ll grow into headstrong women.”
“If you think it’ll help matters, I’ll keep her out of sight as much as possible.”
His relief was visible. The tension went out of his shoulders and creases in his forehead disappeared. “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means that you see past the mistakes her parents made.”
Oh, Jonah. She’s not a mistake. Not anymore than my desire for you. “She deserves the same chance at happiness everyone else does.”
“Are you happy?”
“Aye.” It wasn’t a lie, although she was sad for what he believed Olivia’s future held. Living at Laurie Lark was a wonderful opportunity. For a short time, she could forget she had nowhere to go. For a few hours, she could pretend this was her home, her family, and the broken dreams she’d pushed aside were whole again.
13
Sundays were the quietest days at Laurie Lark. The jackaroos played horseshoes or cards at the bunkhouse. Jonah typically spent the day reading or working on his ledgers. Martha spent Sundays with her family. The jackaroos relied on their hunting skills when the cook didn’t come. It wasn’t uncommon for them to roast a wallaby, or on rare occasions, a rooster from Farjana’s coop. Jonah’s stomach rumbled, but he ignored it.
At midday, he bent low over a ledger until Bridgit cleared her throat. A smile tugged at his lips.
“Are you busy?” she asked.
Olivia clutched the rumpled collar of Bridgit’s dress, bonnet askew, one fist in her mouth and blue eyes wide. Curious, like her mother.
“It can wait a few minutes.” He laid his pen aside and stretched his arms overhead.
She gave him a shy smile, bouncing the baby. “I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s just that I’ve been here a fortnight and I wondered if you might have time to show off your station. You seem busy during the week.”
Bridgit and Olivia looked comfortable with each other. If he didn’t know the truth, he might guess they were mother and daughter. The smile reaching Bridgit’s eyes let him know she had planned this for some time. No doubt an attempt to get him to spend time with his niece.
“You can’t ride with Olivia.”
“I don’t ride, I’m afraid.” She looked at him expectantly.
“You should learn. It might be useful one day.”
“If you’ll teach me. I don’t trust anyone else.” She fluttered her eyelashes like a young girl.
He looked out the window. A light breeze fluttered the leaves of a shady gum tree. The clank of horseshoes hitting the ground behind the bunkhouse reminded him it was no day for work.
Given the choice between an afternoon filled with numbers or the company of his lover, the decision seemed easy. “If your heart is set on seeing Laurie Lark today, I suppose I’ll get the gig out. Shouldn’t take long to ready it. While you wait, prepare a picnic. I haven’t eaten since early this morning.”
She smiled, eyes full of mischief. “I already did. I thought you’d like some fresh air as much as us.”
He stood and approached the pair. Olivia’s fist left her mouth and stretched toward him. Sticky fingers brushed his shirtfront. For a second, he considered taking her, but instead he straightened her bonnet.
“Don’t forget your own hat,” he reminded Bridgit.
The wind bent tall grass and daisies, giving the fields the appearance of a rolling tide. A creek cut through the grass below the hill where they set out a blanket beneath a gum tree. Jonah never tired of the view.
Far off, a cow bawled to call her calf back or locate her herd. Olivia lay on her stomach, reaching for a daisy Bridgit teased her with. An endearing scene if there ever was one.
“Do you miss it?” Jonah asked.
“Ireland?” She let Olivia take the daisy. “Aye. It’s so very different here, but it’s not the place I miss as much as those I left behind.”
“Tell me about them,” he urged. “If it’s not too painful.”
Bridgit smiled and shook her head. “Collin is seventeen. The same age Da was when he asked my mum to marry him. I don’t think Collin’s mind is on any certain woman. Or, it wasn’t anyway. He’s a handsome lad, tall as you, I’d guess. Auburn hair, but he thinks auburn is a girl’s color. He swears it’s brown. Donovan is called after my mum’s da. He’ll turn eleven the week before Christmas. His hair is brown and he’s got the biggest smile you ever saw. Not as rowdy as Collin. Very serious and determined. Like Da.”
“And Bonnie?” he asked.
Bridgit swallowed. “Blond like me. Nine years old and still missing her front teeth. Too shy to smile at strangers. She used to carry an old rag doll around, the same one I had as a lass. I wonder if she still…”
She shook her head again, causing a few curls to come free from her braid. “I’m afraid Collin will get caught stealing and end up as a convict too. I worry about the little ones because the farm might fail and the hat shop could go out of business. They’ll be on the streets same as before. Mrs. McMann promised to send word. There hasn’t been any. Collin is no great shakes at writing, though he said he’d try.”
Her devastation made him frown. “I’ll have my solicitor check for you. See if anything has come with your name on it. They haven’t forgotten you. They couldn’t.”
Did she lie awake at night beside him, worrying about her siblings? Did every meal remind her of the food they weren’t getting? He’d always taken for granted the prosperity he enjoyed. Times were tough everywhere, but no one would know it based on his ledgers. This time next week, he’d host a party honoring his parents’ anniversary and no one would complain for want of anything. How easy to forget others suffered.
“I’ve gone and ruined the mood. I meant it to be lighthearted today because you work hard,” she said.
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “My mood is fine. Couldn’t ask for better company. When you need to talk about them, I’ll listen.”
Bridgit frowned, then threw her arms around his neck. The tight hug she gave him spoke volumes. After a long minute, she drew back.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
He grinned. “Borrow a leg of wallaby, did you?”
She looked ill. “I turned it down when Phil offered. I brought bread and cheese and salted meat. And half the pie Martha left yesterday.”
He took the basket and raised the lid. The salty scent of ham greeted his nose, followed by the tangy smell of strawberry and rhubarb pie. Pushing aside the staples, he brought out the flatware and pie plate. The cloth covering it slipped off, revealing a fat strawberry lying apart from the crust. He speared it with the fork and lifted it to her mouth.
“For you, my lady,” he offered.
A blush, much lighter than the ruby fruit, stained her face. “Dessert is saved for last.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
She nibbled at the berry, lowering her lashes when she saw him watching. A small gesture to help her forget the sorrow of what she’d lost. The future was uncertain for her, but he wanted her to consider today and enjoy the moment.
Jonah laid back and dropped his hat over his face. A light dinner filled his stomach and made him sleepy. He couldn’t remember feeling so relaxed since childhood. No more talk of hardship or misery followed their meal.
“We’re safe out here, aren’t we?” Bridgit asked.
“As babes in the cradle,” he answered, voice muffled by the hat.
A solid weight landed on his stomach. Lifting the brim, he peered at Olivia. She smiled, toothless as an old fishwife. Dimples framed her grin. She plucked at a button on his shirt and cooed before raising her eyes again.
His heart skipped a beat. The hat toppled off his head as he propped himself on his elbows to get a better look at her.
> “She’s happy.”
Bridgit laughed. “Of course she is. When she’s fed and changed. I keep telling you what a joy she is. I see where she gets her stubborn streak.”
“Not stubborn. Determined,” he corrected.
He reached to straighten Olivia’s bonnet again, but she grasped his finger, tugging with strength that surprised him. She blinked and pulled his hand to her mouth, gumming his fingers. A lump grew in his throat. He understood why Bridgit said she loved Olivia.
“That can’t taste good, poppet.”
Bridgit stretched out beside him on her side, one elbow pillowing her head, and placed her other hand on his arm. Through the thin material of his shirt, her touch heated his flesh. A rush of lust rolled through him and he lifted Olivia off his chest. The blanket-lined basket was the best place for her. Not a peep left her rosebud mouth when he settled her inside.
The golden-haired convict rolled on her back and watched him with hooded eyes. Her expression was a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. She looked so desirable and confident that he hardened instantly.
“You think you’re quite clever, I’m sure.” On his hands and knees, he braced himself over her. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.
She reached up and cupped his face. “What gives you that idea?”
“Drawing me away from work, enticing me with smiles and food. And teaching my niece to charm men the same way.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Who taught you about distracting men?” He pressed soft kisses to her skin. She tilted her head back, allowing him access. Her eyes slid shut. A thin ribbon held her plait together. He slipped it off and loosened her tresses.
“Farjana. She thinks you and I are a good match.”
“She’s too keen for her own good,” he murmured, working at the buttons on the front of her dress.
“You can’t mean to have me here,” she protested, covering her exposed flesh with her hand.
“Why not?” He glanced over his shoulder at Olivia. “She’s dead asleep. Who’s going to see? Perhaps those birds over there?”
The Convict and the Cattleman Page 10
