Christmas with My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  On the bright side, she knew she looked wonderful. So many people had told her, had complimented her on her gown, which had cost so much even her mother had gone into shock. She had waved admirers away with a smile. Julie too was looking very nice, not as good as her, of course, but pretty nevertheless. She and Julie had a very special friendship.

  So far, the anticipated belle of the ball hadn’t arrived. Ashlee felt her cheeks grow hot as the many comments she had overheard flashed into her mind. Too bad most of the comments were wrong. She had to be seen by Scott’s ex-wife as seducing him in some way. Better the other way around, of course. She was actually holding out hope for some show of lust on Scott’s part. Alcohol was flowing freely. The drinking would go on for hours. Surely no virile man could ignore her? Especially if he couldn’t see her coming.

  Thirty minutes passed and still no sign of the ex-wife. Could she have been taken ill?

  No such luck.

  As if she were waiting for precisely the right moment, Darcey entered the Great Hall.

  “Shouldn’t there be a fanfare or something?” someone hissed into Ashlee’s ear. It was Julie, who had flown to her side.

  It was a question Ashlee didn’t think required an answer. The ex-wife moved among them smiling like royalty. Even Scott, who had been so betrayed, had been drawn to her side.

  “Not a one of us can compete,” Julie moaned. “What a fabulous ball gown! I’d like to tear it off her back. And the colour! I’ve always loved purple, but it makes me look washed out.”

  “Oh, do shut up.” Ashlee didn’t bite back her anger. “This is the bloody Outback, not New York. Can’t you see she’s overdone it? No wonder she’s late. It must have taken ages to attach those cabbage roses, peonies, whatever to her hair. An alternative to no jewellery?”

  “Actually, I think the roses look great! Especially against her elegant hairdo. She doesn’t need any jewellery.” Julie was plainly in awe of Darcey’s appearance. “She is wearing diamond earrings, don’t you see?”

  “She had to hand over everything Scott had given her,” Ashlee pointed out as though that had great meaning.

  “According to Sam, she handed everything over without being asked,” returned Julie. “Including that engagement ring. The MacArthurs aren’t ordinary people, are they? They’re so rich! Dad says Scott is a brilliant businessman. He’s hugely increased the family’s fortunes. Which is great in itself, but you know what the Bible says.”

  “What?” Ashlee asked explosively, her emotions in full flow.

  “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

  “Sometimes, Julie, you don’t seem normal to me.” Ashlee gave her friend a look of cold, hard appraisal.

  “Ditto. A curious one is this Darcey,” Julie remarked, undaunted.

  “We don’t need her around.” Ashlee felt just about ready to choke her friend. The days, the weeks, the years she had spent planning the best way to land Scott MacArthur could not go to waste. Willpower alone wouldn’t work. He had escaped her once. Twice was one time too many. This time it was nothing less than war.

  * * *

  Ex-wife or not, everyone seemed glad to see Darcey. If Scott’s impulse had been to claim the first dance, Linc got in first. After that, she had a long series of eager partners full of extravagant compliments, which Darcey accepted with a grain of salt. The Great Hall was air conditioned, but the desert sands cooled down dramatically at night, so the temperature was just right.

  At one point Darcey looked over at Samantha folded in Linc’s arms. Sam’s radiant head was thrown back. She was laughing, a bright clear bell of amusement. It had to be plain to all Sam and Linc were very interested in each other. Darcey had to wonder whether Linc’s father would drop his harsh stance and one day recognize his fine son. Any father would be lucky to have such a son. She was also aware something had been nagging at her all day. She couldn’t put her finger on it, yet it was like a persistent whisper in her ear. There was something she had omitted to do. Something she had to do.

  * * *

  The magnificent buffet offered astonishingly good food. All manner of seafood—lobsters, prawns, scallops, oysters in their beds of crushed ice. There were succulent hams, turkey, chicken, and crisp delicious salads to freshen the palate. Champagne continued to flow. Some couples had moved outside, to take a stroll beneath a billion stars. A star wasn’t simply born on its own. A star was born together with tens of thousands of siblings.

  The band took the opportunity to segue into the great love themes, the ones that had stood the test of time. Couples began to move around the dance floor dreamily now, with arms wrapped around each other. Darcey felt she needed a moment’s pause, shaking her head at an approaching admirer, only to see across the hall her most persistent partner heading towards her.

  “May I?”

  Thank God!

  Darcey turned into Scott’s arms. A singing started up in her blood. She felt totally reborn. “I didn’t think you were ever going to get around to asking me,” she confessed.

  “Maybe I’ve been too dazzled,” he said, holding her body close to him. “Now I can see why you needed a whole suitcase for the skirt of your gown,” he said, with a twist of humour. “The top would fit into your wallet. You look very beautiful, Darcey.” His eyes were moving over the heart-shaped bodice of her gown, lingering on the creamy upper curves of her breasts, the mauve shadowed V that dipped between them. His eyes had never been far from her all evening. He had in fact studied her endlessly in her ravishing gown, from the top of her raven head to her silver evening shoes. Darcey. His Darcey. He was tired of watching her dancing with other men, friends of his or not. “One sight of you is never enough,” he said, staring down at her.

  She had to wait a moment before she could speak. There was an answering melancholy in her smile. “I remember the first time you said that to me.”

  “It was the first time I met you. I fell in love on the spot.”

  “You knew me.” The wonder of it took her straight back in time.

  “I thought I did. I allowed you to escape me. I won’t do it again.”

  “How?” She stared up into his bluer than blue eyes. “Lock me up?”

  “I expect I won’t have to,” he said, with his mocking white smile. “You elected to make this journey, Darcey.”

  She moaned softly. “I’ve missed you all so much.” She felt she didn’t have to explain further. Her body had to be doing the talking for her. Her body always had had a singular way of letting him know how much she wanted him. Nothing had changed. Nothing had altered.

  “You missed me,” he corrected her. “Can’t you say it? You can’t deceive me anyway. I’ve been inside your body, Darcey. I’ve tasted your skin all over. I can taste it now. Neither of us can erase our memories. I didn’t fail you. You were my wife.”

  She tried to keep the emotional tears at bay, but a single teardrop rolled slowly down her cheek. “I failed you,” she said. “I was caught in a nightmare just like I said. I adored you too, Scott. Everyone knew it.”

  “Hush!” He gathered her closer, protectively into his arms, shielding her from the sight of the other dancers. “Darcey, don’t cry. I just might lose it entirely.”

  “Sorry.”

  “We’re going in circles again,” he muttered against the flawless skin of her cheek. “It can’t happen. I want you. You know that.”

  “You want me. You have me,” she said. She lifted her dark head, three beautiful full-blown roses, richly purple, tucked behind her left ear. It was a colour that accentuated the flawless white of her skin. She stared intently into the eyes of the man she loved—would always love. “Didn’t I give myself to you, body and soul, long ago?”

  It was well after two before the band put their instruments down and everyone, including them, made their way to their appointed sleeping quarters if only for a few hours. Breakfast would be served from eight o’clock on
wards. Lots of piping-hot black coffee to kick start the day. The MacArthurs had delivered yet again. The ball, like the afternoon’s polo match, was voted a resounding success.

  * * *

  Darcey moved on winged feet, altering a few things in her room. It had been decided Scott would come to her. She was as much in urgent need of him as he was of her. She took her mother’s diamond pendant earrings off, then popped them back in her handbag, zipping the smallest inner pocket. They would be safe there. It was then she decided to remove the half dozen cards inside. She really should have opened them up before this. The handwriting on the top one looked familiar. Not a good hand. A bit of a scrawl. London postmark.

  “Aaah!” Recognition hit hard.

  She put the other cards down on the dressing table, debating whether to open Rebecca’s letter.

  Read it. Rebecca has a secret.

  Only she didn’t want to read it. She wasn’t afraid of what Becky had to say. She knew now Becky had lied. She just didn’t want to be sullied by any more lies. Not now. Not tonight. The letter could well contain a plea for another handout. Becky probably would never get herself together.

  Read it.

  So prompted, but with grim resignation, Darcey shook out the single closely written page. Becky had always been on the mercenary side, but strangely enough she had liked her. She had been kind to Becky, perhaps more than she should have.

  Dear Darcey . . . .

  There was no “dear” about it. Odd how even the coldest letters began with “Dear Someone or Other.” What she had in her hand was a document that testified to Becky’s guilt. And that of one other. Co-conspirators who were ready to hurt her badly. If possible, destroy her marriage.

  At long last Rebecca had released the heartbreaking truth.

  She had to show the letter to Scott. She had to beg his forgiveness all over again. She had questions that demanded answers. She vowed she would get them.

  She’s a sociopath.

  Her inner voice delivered its judgement. The aunt she had shown such respect, the aunt she had believed unquestionably loved her, was in fact a traitor. A far bigger traitor than Becky, her pawn. Becky had suffered a long travail as a consequence of her actions and her desperate need to be more financially secure. But Becky had arrived at the point when she desperately wanted to confess. She had visited her parish priest. He had told her to clear her conscience, and to gain forgiveness she had to let the truth be known.

  Darcey moved swiftly down the long gallery to the right wing where Scott had his rooms: bedroom, study, sitting room. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears but she would not permit herself to cry, even given the gravity of her aunt’s crime. When and why had her aunt hatched such a cruel plot? Had she so deeply resented her turning to Scott? Was it all some bizarre form of jealousy? Or had her aunt a forbidding darkness in her soul? Her aunt had lost the one man she had loved. Why shouldn’t his daughter suffer the same fate? That had to be the motive—to separate her from Scott.

  Well, Aunt Rachael had succeeded for far too long.

  She tapped on the heavy mahogany door, before pushing it open. This had been their bedroom. Their sanctuary. Their love nest.

  Only Scott wasn’t alone.

  Ashlee was there too. She was standing directly in front of him, her blue eyes glowing, her skin turned alabaster white. The strapless bodice of her gown had slipped so low it was barely covering her breasts. She seemed equally triumphant and equally unnerved.

  A woman in the grip of a grand passion. Darcey drew her conclusions on the spot. “Hello there, Ashlee,” she said with as much composure as if they had just met up in the gallery. “I want to speak to Scott, so could you please leave? Pull up your top while you’re at it. I suspect you became overexcited. Is that it? Time for a change in your frame of mind. Scott doesn’t love you, Ashlee. He never did.”

  Ashlee looked back at Darcey with loathing. She offered a disbelieving laugh. This wasn’t what she wanted. She had expected Darcey to cry out, seared to the soul, hopefully creating a great scene. Scott, for his part, wasn’t moving. He didn’t speak either. He just stood there like an observer, with his dazzling white dress shirt hanging open, showing his strongly muscled tanned chest.

  “Why don’t you go away,” Ashlee cried, trying to conceal her amazement at Darcey’s calm demeanour. “You know all about Scott and me.”

  “I know about you, Ashlee,” Darcey countered gently. “And I pity you. No doubt you thought you could carry off a seduction scene. It was a pathetic attempt. You’ve lived so long with your hopes you’ve wasted years of your life. I know it must be extremely painful loving someone who doesn’t love you, but tonight is nothing more than a crude attempt to make trouble. Please go. This will never be spoken of. You have my word.”

  “And mine,” Scott moved at last. He went to the door, holding it wide open. “Put it all behind you, Ashlee,” he said, crisply. “Tell your mother to do the same. Now go. I did regard you as a friend. Now you’re nothing to me.”

  Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!

  Ashlee fled along the silent gallery, the word pealing deafeningly in her ears.

  Clear-headed, Darcey put Becky’s written confession into Scott’s hands. Neither mentioned Ashlee, as though she had never been there.

  Scott muttered aloud even as he read it, the expression on his handsome face grim.

  Finally he raised his head, a hard sparkle in his eyes. “My God, I wasn’t mistaken in claiming your aunt had a hand in breaking us up.”

  “What was her motive, for God’s sake?”

  “You already know, Darcey. She wanted you to suffer. It wasn’t about me. It could have been any man. It was you she wanted to punish. She’s a very strange woman.”

  “Strange indeed. Two different women,” Darcey mused. “One did love me. The other saw me as my mother. We know now Aunt Rachael was in love with my father. Perhaps the only love of her life. My mother unwittingly took him from her. It was love at first sight. My father wasn’t aware of the depth of Aunt Rachael’s feelings. She’s a woman whose feelings would go deep. When she looked at me, she couldn’t help seeing my mother. She was witness to my happiness. She knew how much I loved you. It all got too much for her.”

  “So she hit on the brilliant idea of breaking us up,” Scott said, deeply contemptuous. “She paid poor unprincipled Becky to lie. She wouldn’t have had much difficulty. A hundred thousand dollars would have seemed like a great deal of money to Becky.”

  “It is a great deal of money, Scott, especially to someone who doesn’t have any.”

  “So instead of being one of the have-nots, Becky would join the haves. The idea would have been irresistible. All she had to do was leave the country. Head for her relatives in Ireland. She’s given no return address?”

  “No. The envelope was stamped London.”

  “I can have her tracked,” Scott said.

  “I’m inclined to let her go. It’s Aunt Rachael who’s in the firing line. But I’m guilty too. I believed her. It would never have occurred to me in a million years she could sink so low.”

  “I don’t want to talk about her,” Scott said crisply.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “You and me. I love you, Darcey. I’ve never stopped loving you even when I came close to hating you.”

  “I was lost, Scott,” she said quietly. “Now I’m found.”

  “Thank God it has happened.”

  “God and Sophie working as a team. Would you mind helping me out of this elaborate gown?”

  There could have been no more compelling task. “It’s gorgeous! Almost a pity I have to take it off. I’ll lock the door first in case Ashlee comes back.”

  “Poor Ashlee!”

  “I can’t find an excuse for her.” Scott went to the door, turning the lock. “So we stay here?” He turned back with the question. She stood in front of the Regency mahogany dressing table he had bought her with its giltwood overmantel mirror. Even at
the worst of times, he had never thought to shift it out of the bedroom. Her image was reflected in the mirror, so he had two of her. She looked so impossibly beautiful he had to stand still, watching her removing the big violet roses that clung to her head. Once undone, her hair, black and glossy, tumbled down her back.

  “Why not?” she answered over her shoulder. “This is our marriage bed, after all.”

  As if he needed a reminder. He went to her. Swung her around to face him. “Stay with me, Darcey,” he said, his breath rasping in his throat. “Never leave me again.”

  She put a hand to his cheek. “Never!”

  “Love me?”

  “Let me show you.”

  “First we’ll have to get you out of this dress.”

  Now his strong elegant hand worked the long zip of her gown. It fell away from her upper body, exposing her delicate white breasts. He held her while she stepped out of the billowing skirt.

  “There’s only one thing more beautiful than you in that dress.”

  “Oh?” She had to breathe out, the rising excitement was so fierce. There was nothing but the thought of having him inside her. Swiftly he arranged her ball gown over a high-backed armchair. The rich material glowed.

  “That’s you naked,” Scott said.

  He pulled her to him. He kissed her mouth, her throat, her eyes. The kisses continued moving down over her body. Her little moans were the trigger. He lifted her high in his arms, laid her on the huge four-poster bed. The rich brocade bedspread was still in place.

  Darcey, wearing only her lacy briefs, rolled over. “We’d better take the quilt off.”

  He shot her a smile. “No problem.”

  The bed linen beneath had been freshly laundered and pressed. It smelled just as it used to of the native boronia. The sheets were sinfully smooth. She ran her hands over them.

  “Is this one of the wonders of Christmas, Scott?” she asked, her heart in her eyes.

  “It is to me.” He lifted the last scrap of lace off her. “How different this Christmas will be! Perfect, to my mind.” His eyes burned over her like blue flame. “I have you back in my life. Back in our bed.”