Scarlet with effort, Olivia hauled on the reins, but to no avail, and to her horror the horse broke into an alarming gallop. She clung desperately to the saddle, coughing and spluttering at the dust and shouting furious curses at the horse. They had obviously been waiting for her, for the cattle had straggled to a halt with no cracking whips or chivvying horses to keep them going. Now they either grazed or blundered out of the way with big, incurious brown eyes.
Quite out of control now, the horse and its dishevelled rider galloped on towards the small group who were watching their progress with varying expressions of incredulity. Only one figure, sitting easy on his horse, came cantering through the dust to catch Olivia’s horse and bring it firmly to a stop.
It was Guy, and he was smiling.
Chapter Eight
They lit a fire, sheltering the first flickering flame with a hat, and boiled tea in the billy. Olivia cupped her hands around a battered enamel mug and hugged her happiness to her like a secret.
She didn’t care that she was hot and sweaty and sore. It didn’t matter that she had looked ridiculous, careering out of control, clutching ineffectually at the reins. It didn’t even matter that Robyn was there, handling her horse with consummate skill. All she cared about was Guy. He had smiled at her, the heart-shaking smile she had been waiting for, and had led her over to join the others as if he was proud of her.
‘Well done,’ he had said quietly as he reached her. ‘I never thought you’d really ride out on your own. What happened to the girl who was frightened of horses?’
‘She fell off!’ Olivia said, rubbing herself ruefully where she had hit the ground.
‘You did look funny!’ David giggled. ‘You were bouncing around all over the place. We thought you were going to come off, but you didn’t.’
‘Yeah, we’ll make a rider of her yet, eh?’ Ben teased. ‘We’ll have you bareback in no time, Mrs R.’
‘Perhaps we could put her into the rodeo tomorrow?’ suggested Darren, entering into the spirit of things. ‘What about the bucking bronco?’
‘I feel as if I’ve already done that!’ Olivia said with a meaningful look at her horse, who was standing placidly nearby, the picture of innocence.
‘I didn’t know that old horse could move that fast,’ said Corky, poking at the fire with a twig. ‘I’ve never seen it move at more than a trot before.’
‘The beastly thing is completely wild,’ Olivia declared, but for once she didn’t feel excluded by their laughter and grinned back.
It felt good to be out there with them, hunkered down beside the fire. The ringers bantered amongst themselves, and teased Olivia unmercifully about her riding ability, although she sensed that they admired her for having overcome her fear.
Robyn clearly couldn’t imagine why they were making so much fuss over her. ‘I’d no idea it was going to be quite such a performance for you, Olivia,’ she said condescendingly. ‘You should have let me bring the smoko as I suggested.’
‘The important thing is that she did it,’ Guy put in before Olivia could reply. ‘Now she knows she can ride if she has to.’ He glanced back at Olivia. She was sitting looking down at the fire as she cradled the mug in her hands. ‘You might even get to like it, Olivia.’
You might even find you get to like it. That phrase again, echoing with memories of the last time he had kissed her. Did he remember? The battered old hat he had given her shaded her face until she looked up and met his eyes across the fire, her own an intense blue.
‘I might,’ she said.
The thought of getting back into the saddle was unappealing, but they ignored her protests, pulling her stiffly to her feet and throwing her up on to the horse. David was delegated to ride back to the homestead with her, and Olivia was touched at the way he agreed, disappointment at missing the rest of the day warring with the manful way he shouldered responsibility for the poor, helpless woman. Looking up, she saw Guy watching them with evident amusement, and she smiled over David’s head as she caught his eye. Guy smiled slowly back, and giddy, dizzy exhilaration washed through her.
Olivia wafted home, bruised muscles forgotten. She responded absently to David’s chatter, dreaming of Guy’s smile. It was only a movement of facial muscles, merely a display of teeth. What was it about it that lit up the world, making even this sun-baked country brighter, clearer, as if everything had been thrown into sharper focus?
The smile stayed with her all day as she cleaned the kitchen and prepared a meal for when the men returned. It took her ages to sweep the veranda, as she kept drifting off into a dream world where Guy would smile at her again. He would take her in his arms, pull her towards him with his strong brown hands … here Olivia shivered with pure desire and blinked herself back to reality. She was clutching the broom ridiculously against her chest, and although there was no one to see, she flushed as she hurriedly resumed sweeping.
He had only smiled at her! It was hardly a declaration of love, she reminded herself, mindlessly scattering at least five times their normal amount of feed to the chickens, who clucked contentedly about her feet, unable to believe their good luck. It was silly to get so worked up about it.
But reason stood no chance against the fever pumping through her veins. She couldn’t think about anything but Guy, about the need to see him smile at her again, to feel him touch her once more.
Not until you ask.
The idea settled in her head, impossible to dislodge. Could she ask? Did she dare? What would he say if she did?
When he returned, she was still trying to decide, and she avoided his eyes as much as possible, fearful that she might suddenly blurt it out in front of everyone.
They must have talked over the meal, Olivia supposed, but she couldn’t recall any of it. She tried not to look at Guy, but it was hopeless. Her eyes kept crawling over him, as if she could touch him physically, while she twisted and squirmed with a desire so strong that it could be denied no longer.
If he wouldn’t touch her until she asked, she would ask. She would have to.
But it wasn’t that easy. At last everything was cleared away and goodnights said. At last the generator was switched off, leaving the homestead in uncanny silence. Guy was still talking to Robyn on the veranda as Olivia slipped the silk nightdress over her head and wondered how she would ever find the right words.
She lay between the sheets and practised alternatives. ‘Would you …?’ ‘Could you …?’ ‘I wondered if …?’ Perhaps ‘would you mind’ would be better? Too stilted. A simple ‘please’, as Guy had suggested? No, it sounded too abrupt by itself.
Olivia tossed and turned. Where was he? What was he talking to Robyn about all this time? Why didn’t he come?
It felt like hours before he came in, closing the door softly behind him. Immediately all Olivia’s carefully rehearsed phrases fell away and she lay dumbly as he undressed and slid in beside her.
Now. Go on, say it! But her tongue felt thick and unwieldy in her mouth and she could only stare helplessly into the darkness, trapped in a strait-jacket of shyness.
Later, when the deep, even breathing beside her told her Guy was asleep, she slipped noiselessly out of bed and went to stand at the window. The night air was cool and soothing against her hot skin, and she turned her face up to the moonlight. Why hadn’t she said anything? Surely they weren’t such hard words to say? Would she ever have the courage to try again?
‘Can’t you sleep?’
Olivia started at the sound of Guy’s voice. He was propped up on one elbow, watching the patterns of moonlight and shadow on her face.
‘No, I … was too hot.’ Her mouth felt dry, her voice unlike her own. ‘Did I wake you?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ There was a pause. ‘You must be stiff after your ride,’ he said as the silence lengthened into tension.
‘A bit.’
He hoisted himself into a sitting position and patted the side of the bed. ‘Come here.’
Slowly, very slowly, Olivia w
ent.
‘Sit down,’ he said quietly.
She sat, face averted, unable to look directly at him. Her heart was thudding in a slow, uneven rhythm.
He put his hands on her shoulders and began to massage the knots of tension there. ‘You are stiff,’ he said, pushing the silky hair away from the nape of her neck. His fingers moved rhythmically along her shoulders, kneading and probing, and gradually Olivia gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of uncoiling muscles and the touch of his hands, strong and sure against her skin. She was sure she could feel every whorl on his fingertips.
Her head drooped and her hair swung forward, hiding her face. He had pushed the straps of her nightdress down so that his hands could move further down her spine, and her shoulders flexed with instinctive pleasure.
‘Is that better?’ he asked, his voice very deep and low, and she nodded, blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
His fingers had stopped kneading; now only one hand slid over her back in rhythmic circles, and she lifted her head to lean back into its insistent pressure.
Her eyes were open and she stared fixedly at the band of slanting moonlight on the floor. ‘Guy?’
‘Yes?’ His hand circled, circled, tracing deep patterns of desire on her skin.
‘You remember you said … before …’ She took a deep breath. ‘You said you wouldn’t touch me … unless I asked.’
She could feel his hand tense against her. ‘I remember,’ he said softly. ‘There hasn’t been a night since we married that I haven’t remembered!’
Olivia swallowed. ‘What would you say … if … if … I asked you now?’ She barely breathed the words, but once they were out they seemed to bounce and reverberate around the room, and still she didn’t dare look at him.
‘I think …’ Guy’s voice was quiet, almost reflective as his hand drifted to the nape of her neck. ‘I think I’d ask you why it’s taken you so long,’ he said eventually. He let the soft hair slide between his fingers as if to capture the moonshine spangled in the golden strands.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d want me,’ Olivia said, but the light, tantalising brush of his fingers against her neck was making it difficult to talk.
There was a sharp intake of breath behind her, and Guy’s hands tightened against her. ‘Not want you?’ he echoed incredulously. Bending his head, he pressed a kiss on the pure line of her shoulder, and she tilted her head back in instinctive response.
‘Not want you?’ he said again, letting his lips travel with long, lingering kisses from the curve of her shoulder to the arching line of her throat, the light stubble on his chin male-rough against her softness. ‘Do you know how beautiful you are, Olivia? Do you know what it’s been like for me, lying next to you every night with only that damned nightdress between us?’ His mouth drifted up her throat, explored the soft, sensitive area beneath her earlobe until she shivered with pure pleasure.
‘Why did you buy it for me?’ she asked, her voice half-gasp, half-whisper. Her mind was adrift, her body abandoned to the sheer delight of Guy’s warm kisses against her skin. His arms encircled her, pulling her back against the hard strength of his chest.
‘Why did I buy it?’ She felt him smile into her neck and his hands slid possessively over the silk. ‘I just wanted to see what you looked like in it!’
Olivia tipped her head back further, turning her face to meet his as his kisses drifted on along her jaw line. She could feel his heart thudding like hers as she leant back against his chest, her eyes huge and shining in the reflected light.
His lips had reached the corner of her mouth when he paused. Lifting his head to look down into her eyes, he slid his hand up her arm and gently brushed the hair back from her face.
‘Are you sure you want this, Olivia?’ he murmured, even as he tangled his fingers in her hair and began to drop teasing, tantalising kisses over her face.
‘Yes … yes,’ she whispered, twisting against him so that she could hold his face in her hands. ‘I’m sure.’
When his lips met hers at last, it was with a dizzying explosion of relief that the hours, days, weeks of tense awareness were over. The touch and the taste and the scent of him, which had lingered so disturbingly in her mind, no longer needed to be hoarded like guilty secrets. His mouth was warm, insistent, his hands sliding in luxurious exploration over her body.
Together they sank back on to the mattress as their kisses deepened. With increasing urgency, Guy moved his hands up and down the length of Olivia’s thighs, rucking up the nightdress, his murmurs of pleasure hoarse against the sleek perfection of her body. She was free at last to touch him the way she had wanted to touch him for so long. Her fingers drifted wantonly over the lean planes of his body, glorying in the gasping excitement of skin on skin, every inch explored a new delight, revelling in the discovery that Guy responded to her own touch just as she did to his.
With a muffled gasp, he rolled her beneath him again and smiled as he bent his head to kiss her lips, a long, deep kiss that left her aching with the need to feel him closer still. The silk of the nightdress whispered as he slipped it over her head, leaving her slender and quivering with exquisite anticipation beneath his gaze.
The dark desire in his eyes matched her own. Olivia was fiercely glad that his need was as obvious as her own, and she arched in frank invitation, curling her fingers in his hair in mute entreaty as he ran his hands over her golden curves, following their burning trail with his lips.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he mumbled against her breast, his hands tightening against her. ‘So perfect …’
‘Guy …’ Olivia moaned his name, beyond coherent thought. She could feel herself unravelling, as if every touch unwound a further layer of her protective camouflage. Sophistication, antagonism, uncertainty, jealousy, resentment … all fell away at the insistence of his lips and his hands, discovering every secret curve and dip, disentangling her from herself until she was only fire and desire in his arms.
At last, when they could bear the exquisite agony no longer, she wrapped her legs around him and cried out in release as he thrust into her, pushing her further and further, on and up in an irresistible spiral of passion until they climbed together in a final shuddering explosion of ecstasy that left them gasping, limbs entangled in wordless fulfilment.
When Olivia could open her eyes, it was with a jolt of surprise to see that the room was just the same. She felt that it should at least have been glowing in the reflected heat of their passion, but it was only very cool and very still in the white moonlight.
Guy rolled on to his back and lay without speaking, but one finger stroked the soft skin on the inside of her arm, and Olivia fell asleep, content, listening to the sound of his breathing.
The Barclinty Rodeo was one of the social occasions of the year. Everyone from two hundred miles around had come to drink beer, watch the rodeo, and, it seemed, meet Guy Richardson’s new English wife.
Although assured by everyone that the rodeo was a social occasion, Olivia had hesitated over what to wear. She didn’t want to be accused of being overdressed, but she simply didn’t possess anything suitable. In the end she chose a vivid jade green silk dress with a very simple drop-waisted design. She had worn it to Ascot once, she remembered ruefully as she turned back the brim at the front of her straw hat. It was as close as she had ever been to a rodeo.
As soon as she arrived, she could see that her efforts to dress appropriately had backfired. True, most of the women were in dresses, but the simple elegance of her outfit stood out unmistakably, and she was certain that everyone disapproved of such an eye-catching outfit. It was so hot that she couldn’t even take her hat off, so she stood feeling conspicuous and wishing she had had a career which involved wearing only dull, sensible clothes.
‘It’s good to know there’s a woman at Willagong Creek again.’
‘Yes, they sure needed a woman at Willagong Creek.’
‘High time Guy Richardson fo
und himself a woman.’
Olivia shook hands and smiled mechanically. She knew that everyone was being kind, but she couldn’t help feeling a pinch of resentment. All those years of independence, of struggling to succeed, were irrelevant to these people. Was that really all she was now, just a woman?
Was that all she had been to Guy last night?
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him leaning on the rail, talking to an older man and watching Darren’s attempt to stay on a savagely bucking horse. He looked just as he normally did, cool, quiet, self-contained. There was nothing to suggest that this was the same man who last night had made love to her with such breathtaking passion, whose body had taken hers to the heart-stopping limits of rapture.
How could he stand there, looking just the same?
In the rush to leave for the rodeo that morning, last night had not been referred to. Guy had been fully dressed when he had shaken her awake, and he had disappeared immediately to rouse the others. By the time they had breakfasted and organised transport for everyone, it was time to go, and once out in the bright morning glare the tender intimacy of the night seemed impossibly remote. Besides, there was David, hanging over the bench seat, bemoaning the fact that he was too young to take part in the rodeo. She could hardly say anything in front of him.
Guy had introduced Olivia to his parents when they arrived. His mother, Janet, was small and vivacious, in direct contrast to her husband, who was an older, more relaxed image of Guy. They hadn’t had the chance to do more than exchange greetings and a few pleasantries earlier, but now Janet’s touch on her arm brought Olivia back to the present, and she turned to see her with a very good-looking man, whose pale skin and elegant clothes proclaimed someone who didn’t belong here any more than she did. Instinctively, she gave him a smile of understanding.
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