by Lucy Walker
Ann was secure in Lang’s arm, and he danced beautifully. He held her gently, yet held her. The tip of her nose touched his shoulder. His head seemed way up there in celestial places.
The lights had dimmed because ‒ Aunt Cassie had explained to the management ‒ it was a lovers’ night. There was at least one official engagement being celebrated ‒ one probable one, and another possible. She did not choose to say who the latter couples might be but the management understood perfectly what the situation was. Accordingly, at the exact and appropriate moment, the bright lights were shaded and there came only soft mist-like blue lights from amongst the palms in the corner and by the french windows.
There was something about the music, the lights, the waiting night all around.
Lang wasn’t holding her gently any more. She was wrapped in his arms and he held her against him, as if she belonged to him. She felt the warm power of his body, the touch of his dinner-jacket against her cheek. His head rested on her head. He held her to him, cradled yet possessed. She was his, and his will was the only one that mattered.
He wasn’t taking no for an answer ever again.
All the stars in the sky were in Ann’s surrender. Was it a dream? There was no one else in all the world ‒ only two of them, dancing to the sedate but haunting air of a classical waltz.
Slowly the dying cadences faded to their end.
As if parting from a dream, Ann eased herself away from Lang’s arms.
He stood in the middle of the floor and looked down at the glossy head, the sweet, gentle face and the blue eyes now filled with an expression that gave away a heart yet begged for reprieve.
That smile stole into his eyes.
‘Ann,’ he said gently. ‘Come home to Franklin’s. We need you. Come home to me!’
Something had happened to Ann’s throat and she was wordless.
He bent his head and kissed her, holding her as if they might begin the waltz again and he intended never to let her go. She had no say in the matter at all.
‘Good gracious me!’ Mrs. Boyd said, looking at the couple through her lorgnette. ‘What impudence! I shall have to speak to Ann severely.’
Mrs. Franklin was watching the grand old lady with a smile that was part wan, part amused. ‘As if, my dear Mrs. Boyd,’ she said quietly, ‘you did not arrange it all.’
Aunt Cassie turned her lorgnette on Mrs. Franklin. ‘I trust you approve?’ she asked.
Mrs. Franklin nodded her head. ‘With all my heart. But I don’t understand why Lang has to kiss her there ‒ in public!’
‘Herr Weber arranged that one too,’ Aunt Cassie said succinctly. ‘A long time ago. Eighteen-nineteen did you say, Mr. Condon?’
As Mrs. Franklin had not heard of the great musician she did not comment on this remark.
Aunt Cassie had turned back to the still figures of Ann and Lang in the middle of the floor.
‘They really look beautiful, don’t they?’ she asked, no longer askance but full of joy for her dear Ann. Anyone looking at her would have seen the moisture in her own blue eyes. ‘Good gracious! Where on earth is he taking her now?’
‘Out into the garden. Where else?’ Mrs. Franklin said briefly. ‘And he’s not taking her, he is literally carrying her. Well, really!’
Only Luie laughed aloud. ‘Isn’t Lang a sweetie-pie?’ she said gaily. ‘Look, everybody! He’s kidnapping Ann and he doesn’t care a damn who’s looking.’
Lang put Ann down. His arms went round her and he crushed her to his breast. His head rested on her head and Ann’s cheek was a crumpled rose against him.
‘Ann ‒ I love you. Very much.’
Ann lifted her head, freeing herself a little from his tight hold. She tilted up her face to look at him. The night was all dark mystery around them except where the stars, no longer in heaven, were silver dust in the silent river.
‘Lang, did you think I cheated? Did you think I came in Claire’s place?’
‘I thought you had the prettiest hat in the world. It was blue and made of flowers. I thought it was my aunt who was cheating ‒ or just perhaps forgetful. But I didn’t care. I liked the blue hat. Are you going to say Yes this time, Ann?’
She rested her forehead against his coat.
‘Yes.’ It was so soft he barely heard it.
The night, the stars prinking the shining stillness of the river were here ‒ all around her. The scent of the bushland, the silence of the sky, and the horizons that are never reached in this vast land, said all he felt for her.
Ann leaned against him, weightless, enfolded in his arms.
‘I love you too,’ she said. He barely heard that either. It didn’t matter. Explanations didn’t matter. Not tonight.
Time enough later.
Books by Lucy Walker
from Wyndham Books
The Call of the Pines
Reaching for the Stars
Also coming in 2019
Girl Alone
The One Who Kisses
The River is Down
Heaven is Here
and more
Wyndham Books is reissuing
Lucy Walker’s novels in new ebook editions.
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www.wyndhambooks.com/lucy-walker
