Children of Destiny Books 4-6 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 10)

by Ann Major

  Our battle. Hell! She was so strong, so certain. But she knew nothing of what she was getting herself into.

  He felt strange, unsure, not himself at all. He was possessive, jealous, protective, sick at the thought of something happening to her. He hadn't wanted another woman in his life, ever again. Especially not one like her. He was fiercely independent. He didn't want her meddling in his life, but now that he’d had her again, he didn't want her out of it, either.

  They were at an impasse. Each eyed the other warily, and while they did they lapsed into an uneasy silence.

  A long time later she said, "I know it's probably hard for you to trust...a woman...after your marriage to Deirdre. Especially to trust me. But don't you see, trusting you is not so easy for me, either. You ruined my life, too. Only I'm not the sort to cling to a grudge the way you do."

  As always it galled him the way she saw herself in a superior light to him. "I ruined your life?" His eyes darkened to midnight blue. "That's a joke."

  "When we were all in college, you used me to get Deirdre."

  "How?"

  "You wanted to make her jealous so she'd marry you."

  He laughed harshly in disbelief. Gently, roughly, he gathered Jess into his arms. "I never used you. And I never lied. It was the other way around."

  "No!"

  "Then explain why you went to bed with me, pretending you were Deirdre."

  "Jackson, you knew who I was all the time."

  "No I didn't. Not until after I married Deirdre."

  "She told me that you did... after..."

  "I don't give a damn what she told you!" He was silent, his face dark and tense.

  Jess wrenched herself free and escaped to the farthest edge of the bed. "I remember that night like it was yesterday. I loved you. But I thought you loved her."

  "That sounds about normal for our relationship."

  "Don't be sarcastic, Jackson."

  He nodded grimly for her to go on.

  "Well, that night I was in a microbiology lab studying. Deirdre stormed in, sobbing out some nonsense about you having broken up with her because you loved me. I was stunned. You and I always quarreled. You had never even hinted you loved me in any way. I decided it was just some trick of yours to make Deirdre jealous. I swore it wasn't true. Then I went looking for you, to have it out with you for using me in one of your lovers' quarrels. I didn't realize until later that I had accidentally picked up her sweater instead of mine."

  "It was dark," he muttered. "So when I ran into you outside your dorm in her sweater, I assumed you were her. The way I did that first day on the tennis court. Why the hell didn't you tell me who you were?"

  "I don't know. I always acted crazy when I got around you. Maybe because I thought I could get to the bottom of what was wrong between Deirdre and you better if you thought I was her. Maybe because I was mad. I just asked you if you really meant it when you said you were in love with Jess."

  "And I said I did."

  "That made me even madder. I thought you were trying to make her jealous. I started to cry and begged you to stop tormenting me. You took me in your arms. You thought you were comforting Deirdre. Things got pretty hot between us very quickly."

  "They always do. I don't know why that didn't tip me off."

  "We made love," she whispered.

  "And all the time I could hardly believe it was the same Deirdre I'd jilted. Always before, she'd turned to ice when I touched her. Apparently the Jackson name and money were the only things about me that ever turned her on," he said bitterly.

  "Yes, but you see, I didn't know that then. Just as I was about to tell you who I was, you stopped me, and said, 'Marry me, Deirdre. I only said those things about Jess to make you jealous.' Jackson, in that instant my heart froze. It was like death."

  "All I knew was I had to have the woman who set me on fire. I really did think you were Deirdre."

  "Don't lie to me!" Jess cried.

  "I'm not." His hand clamped savagely around her wrist. "I didn't know till the honeymoon that I'd married the wrong twin. And then I hated you because I thought you'd slept with me to trick me into marrying her."

  "Dear God. Oh, Jackson. I loved you so much. After you asked me to marry you, thinking I was Deirdre, I was so hurt. You loved her, wanted to marry her, but I'd slept with you. That's why I ran away.

  "All I could think of was Deirdre. How was I going to face her with what I'd done? I couldn't at first, so I just sat in a cafe drinking one coffee after another. Finally I realized there was nothing I could say. I just had to face her. But when I got back to our room, Deirdre was gone."

  Jess's voice became desolate. "She'd left me a note, thanking me for fixing everything. The note said that you'd just said you loved me to make her jealous. That I'd seduced you, and you'd known all along who I was."

  "Damn her." He slammed his fist against a bedpost.

  "I felt so cheap, so used. She told me she and you had run away to get married. She and you...together... I—I didn't know what to do. For days I was filled with the bitterest despair. After that, nothing mattered anymore. I tried to tell myself that you were a sexist, caveman-cowboy, the worst kind of man for me, that we were both better off. Eventually I married Jonathan, who was liberal and shared my view of the world. But, it's never any good—fooling yourself. My marriage didn't work out. I began my career, had a child. You know the rest. Deirdre finally told me most of the truth last year in Calcutta."

  "Deirdre..." Tad's features twisted with bitterness. The memory of her filled him with black emotion. "All the time I blamed you for ruining my life, when it was her. I should have known."

  "The past is behind us," Jess whispered, but her voice was haunted. "You really loved me?"

  Her pale, distraught face touched Tad, and the layer of icy distrust in his heart began to melt.

  "Yes, I loved you. Only you," he whispered. "Always. Only you. Even when I was married to her. That’s why I tried to convince myself I hated you."

  Her face remained bloodless.

  He took her cold hand in his. "We were both such fools. But it's over," he said gently. He brought her fingers to his warm lips. "All that matters now is our future."

  "Yes," she said, "our future."

  "You will leave Australia, take Lizzie, and I will follow after I've sold out and wrapped up things here."

  Her hand tensed, and although it was small and delicate in his larger one, he felt her strength. Her warm, resolute gaze moved over him lovingly.

  "You still don't get it, do you? I mean how it's going to be with us?" she asked quietly. "I stay. Beside you. Always. I could never feel safe anywhere if I were afraid for you."

  He felt vaguely alarmed. "You talk like a man," he muttered uneasily.

  "No, you're just clinging to the dark ages." She lifted her arms high above her head and stretched languorously. "You're a man, but that doesn't make you my superior or my boss. And thinking that you aren't doesn't make me any less of a woman." The brilliant morning rays shining through the shutters bathed her body in a soft, golden, iridescent glow. "Or haven't you noticed?"

  His eyes ran boldly over her. He kept watching her. She moved, smiling knowingly up at him, and the morning sun gilded her soft, lush curves, warmed creamy, pale flesh.

  "I love you," she said, "and that makes us one."

  Did it? Could he accept her on her terms? Had they, in reality, always been his terms, too? Did she know him better than he knew himself? Deirdre had never had his back. What would it be like to have a strong, capable woman at his side?

  All his life he'd been alone. Until now. With her.

  But could he risk her safety?

  He could feel the danger, all-enveloping, a menacing presence even in the bedroom. She might think she was tough, but the bastards would kill her in a second, if he gave them the chance.

  He was about to argue, but she melted against him, nestling her body between his thighs. As always she was a perfect fit.

&nbs
p; When she caressed his powerful, muscular chest with light fingertips, he couldn't think.

  "So, are we one?" she said. "Partners?"

  "But..."

  She began to stroke him. His body turned to flame.

  "Partners for life?" she said. "In everything?"

  She lowered her hand and touched that one part of him that electrified every cell in his body.

  "It won't work," he growled weakly.

  She bent her face to his cheek. "Wanta make a bet?"

  He felt that moist, feminine tongue, seeking and searching near the sensitive spot beneath his earlobe, turning his blood to rivers of fire.

  Even as he was protesting, he rolled her beneath him.

  Sun-darkened skin covered her paler, silkier flesh.

  "No." He whispered. "No."

  But his body said yes.

  Eleven

  A mist rose from the damp earth of the rain forest, and under the flame of a new sun, the trees wore a mantle of glowing wet.

  Tad sprinted soundlessly down the narrow trail. It was still and hot. Muggy. His cotton shirt was glued to his body from his long run. But he didn't care. The weather forecast was perfect for flying.

  He was leaving Jess! There would be hell to pay!

  Tad remembered all her fierce arguments about her determination to help him fight his battles. He felt like a heel, running away from her, pretending he was going fishing with Wally when in reality he was flying back to Jackson Downs. But late yesterday afternoon, he'd gotten a message through Wally from Kirk that things were heating up on Jackson Downs. The Martin [JO17]homestead had been attacked, and Noelle and Granger Martin[JO18] were on guard against the threat of another. Tad had called Ian McBain, and Ian was flying to Jackson Downs to assist in the signing of all the legal documents in regard to the sale of the station.

  Tad was determined to keep Jess from meddling in his dangerous affairs. It was time she learned she could only push him so far.

  Tad didn't trust the Martins, his [JO19]neighbors, even though they were the prospective buyers for Jackson Downs. It was odd that Granger was buying him out. Granger had always had a weak stomach for violence. Odd how his determination had never wavered despite all the trouble. Odder still, when not so long ago it had been Granger selling out to him. And yet, if Granger were behind it all, why would he attack his own homestead?

  Tad heard his Cessna even before he saw it. That was the first inkling that something was wrong.

  His heart raced with panic as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and began to run even faster down the narrow path through the rain forest. He broke through the trees and saw his white, orange-trimmed plane.

  The propeller was like a big fan, its blades blurring and turning, thinner and faster as the engine sound grew stronger and deeper.

  Who the hell had dared...

  Tad remembered the man in the bulldozer. Was he back, sabotaging the Cessna?

  Then Tad saw her.

  He should have known.

  Jess waved jauntily to him from the cockpit. A pale-faced Meeta and an excited Lizzie were bundled into the seats behind her.

  Rage filled him. He should have realized getting away from her had been too easy.

  How sleepily she'd lain against the pillow this morning. The smell of orange blossoms had been dulled by the warm, male scent of him still clinging to her skin. How docilely she had allowed him to kiss her goodbye before he'd left, jogging the long way to the resort as a safety precaution, and thereby giving her enough time to dress and beat him to the plane. He had planned to leave her on the island in Wally's care because Wally had assured him there wouldn't be a boat or plane to or from the island for three days. Somehow she'd gotten around Wally.

  Jess opened the cockpit door and smiled down at him brightly. And her smile made him volcanic.

  Bancroft was in his plane, deliberately defying him[JO20], having done God alone knew what to a delicate piece of machinery he'd babied for years. She stuck a denim-clad leg out of the door and he grabbed her by the thigh and pulled her, kicking all the way down, to the ground.

  Using her special skills, she threw him off balance, toppling him and sending him sprawling so that he lay flat on his back beside the chock. Then she fell on top of him, straddling him. He had a fleeting sensation of her softness fitting his tight, straining male muscles. He seized her wrists and held them fast so that she couldn't escape.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he yelled over the roar of the engine.

  "Going with you, you low-down sneak," she yelled back.

  "I told you yesterday, you were to take Lizzie to Calcutta while I went back to the station."

  His jeans were skintight. He could feel the warmth of her seeping inside him.

  "But I never agreed," she began.

  "That's why I was leaving without—"

  "I'm not letting you sell out. What will that settle?"

  "Everything! I've been losing money for three years. People are getting killed."

  "No."

  "What do you mean, no? We're talking about my property! My family’s property! There are other, better investments than the station!"

  "I mean we're not leaving till we know what's going on!"

  "I'm tired of fighting everybody in this country all alone." A muscle ticked in his hard jawline.

  Her expression softened. "Why can’t you understand that you're not alone—not anymore?"

  His eyes moved slowly over her with insulting deliberation. His hard mouth thinned as he regarded her usually sleek hair tumbling about her shoulders. His gaze fell to her heaving breasts beneath her tight cotton shirt. He thought of the dirty bastards getting to her in some way, touching her, hurting her. Damnation! For all her courage and heart, she was only a woman.

  "And that terrifies me more than anything," he said, not ungently. "Don't you see, I can't stand it if they use you. If you and Lizzie are there, I won't be able to think."

  "We're in this together."

  "No."

  "Deirdre was my sister. She was probably killed because of what was going on at Jackson Downs."

  "And I don't want you to die the way she did."

  "If you think I'm the kind of woman you can safely jettison like an unwanted bundle of cargo behind the lines of battle, you're crazy."

  "If you give a damn about me or Lizzie, for once you'll do what you're told."

  "I'm not a coward—even if you are."

  "What?"

  "Who's the brave boy that's selling everything he and his family owns and clearing out with his tail between his legs, cowboy?"

  "It isn't like that."

  "Oh, it isn't? Then tell me how it is."

  "It's none of your damned business."

  "You can't shut me out, the way you always shut Deirdre out. I'm making it my business. I love Lizzie like she is my own."

  "Sweet Jesus. I won't have you meddling in my life when I know what’s best."

  "You and Lizzie are my life, so it's my life, too."

  "If we're ever to have a future together..."

  "Don't threaten me with that, you low-down, cowardly bully."

  "You're not coming to Jackson Downs, and that's final. I won't have a woman running my show.”

  “What are you saying exactly?”

  “You heard me! What I'm saying is that if you do come to Jackson Downs, we're finished. Do you understand me? Finished!"

  *

  A string of violently muttered curses burst forth from the pilot, who had to be the most stubborn man who ever lived. This fresh outburst made Jess's heart grip with pain.

  Tilting her head to one side, she caught a sideways glance of the irascible Jackson, who sat stiffly beside her at the controls, wearing a look of sour gloom. Being a typical man, he was a sore loser and was doing everything he could to inflict his dark mood on her and make the journey as abominable for her as possible.

  His scowl was so awful, she almost believed he really did hate her and w
ould be finished with her. She turned away before he could see how nervous her forced smile really was.

  The four of them were in the plane, high over the flat red parched endlessness of Queensland's center, having left the dazzling aqua waters and all greenery behind hours ago.

  In the back Lizzie and Meeta were as quiet as mice. Poor Meeta was probably terrified after the fireworks and bullying she’d witnessed. She was too kind and too obedient. Inconvenient character traits when it came to dealing with a man of Jackson's stubborn, irascible temperament.

  There were times when a woman had to assert herself. Jess had done the only sensible thing. There was a crisis at the station. Jackson had been too caught up in his chauvinistic views of caveman gallantry to be reasonable. Clearly someone needed to take charge; clearly she was the one to do it.

  He would have to forgive her eventually. But every time she looked at him and saw his smoldering expression, she paled as she considered the faint possibility that he would not.

  Jess had to fight to maintain a triumphant attitude, a pretended eagerness for every detail of the monotonous scenery. She and Jackson had flown in tense silence most of the way. Like all men, Jackson was able to sulk ferociously when he didn't get his way. Well, that was just fine—even if his sulking was a constant oppressive force. Even if his doing so was ruining what might have been her first exhilarating view of Australia. Even if it took all of her considerable willpower to act like his childishness was having no effect on her.

  His black mood and her determined cheerfulness were each weapons in a fierce battle between two stubborn wills as they flew over sparsely covered ridges of stringy-bark tress.

  "Down there!" Tad pointed grimly, breaking the silence. "That's where Martin[JO21] Reach ends and Jackson Downs begins."

  She nodded, glad that he'd decided to speak to her at last.

  "At the turn of the century, that used to be lush home paddock," he said. "Now it's desert. The sheet erosion has stripped the topsoil from the underlying clay and degraded the rich pastures of Mitchell and Kangaroo grass."

  The landscape beneath them was indeed forlorn: five thousand acres of bare pans dusted with salt and ringed by yellow samphire. The illusion of limitless space in the small, manmade desert was at once fascinating and daunting.