Ella

by Virginia Taylor

  “A noble sentiment.”

  “You may scoff, but you don’t have the same priorities I do.”

  He nodded, the subject evidently not important to him and rightly so. Turning, he glanced at Girl, who pattered along stoically. He gestured and, with bunched weariness, she leaped to the saddle in front of him, settling like a limp handshake. Within half an hour, she sat like queen of all she surveyed.

  And so was Ella, too, now her horses had been reclaimed. When the carriage pair sold and the wool money arrived, she could have not only a house but a small income as well. Another four or five days of shearing and Cal would be gone. Ella would have no further private moments with him. Her only chance to experience passion had passed.

  * * * *

  Legs comfortably crossed, Edward occupied a low, comfortable armchair by the fern-filled fireplace in Irene’s drawing room. “I want you to go to Noarlunga,” he said to Sam.

  “I ain’t spyin’ on him.” With mutiny on his face, Sam tightened his arms across his chest. “The lad don’t deserve it. Find someone else to do your dirty work.”

  “I don’t want my grandson spied on. I simply want to know where he is and why. You can have a room in the hotel, any room, any hotel in Noarlunga, and all you have to do is gossip with the local shopkeepers, which I know you will do anyway.”

  “Gossip about the lad? That’s spyin’.”

  “I don’t want you to gossip about him,” Edward said irritably. “Far from it. I want you to find out if there is any gossip about him and a young lady on that station. If he is planning nuptials, I want to know. If they want to stay there, I might consider giving them the place. Who knows?”

  “I knows. You want him back at Farvista. You wouldn’t be content to have him at a piddling little place like that when he can have the biggest in the colony.”

  “Who said he can?” Edward pushed his jaw forward pugnaciously.

  “We both know he can. You just want to work out how you can take back your words without having to take back your words. Not never will you apologize,” Sam said bitterly. “Might be he won’t come back until you do.”

  Edward swallowed. He leaned forward in his seat, fixing his eyes with Sam’s. “I want him back. Heaven knows. But not unwillingly. I want him to return of his own accord. If I know where he is,” he said, trying not to sound as if he were pleading, “maybe I can help him get what he wants, be it a woman or a business. And if I can help...”

  “You can still be in control,” Sam said with emphasis. “I’m not spyin’.”

  “Just go there. Please. See if you can learn anything. He might need me and think he can’t ask. There might be something you or I could do for him.”

  Sam’s lips tightened. He stared at the window, tapped his hands on his knees, and finally blew out a breath. “Got the same sky here as at home. Guess the sky in Noarlunga ain’t much different. I’ll go for a week, no more. But I’m not spyin’.”

  Edward rose to his feet, ready to order the carriage for Sam. He needed to know what Charlton meant to do, but not because he wanted to be in control. The time had come to make amends.

  * * * *

  By late afternoon, Ella wilted. She barely had the energy to guide her plodding horse. “Cal,” she called, trying to sound bright.

  He turned in his saddle, eyebrows raised.

  “You look tired,” she said in a sympathetic voice. “I think we should stop.”

  He smiled. She doubted that he often mistook her meaning.

  “Over there.” He pointed to a group of tall red gums. As usual, he led the way. As usual, she and the rest of his retinue followed.

  She slid off her horse. Her knees trembled. The inexhaustible Cal unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down while she unpacked the bedrolls, stretching her back to ease her cramped muscles.

  Cal unfurled his blanket. “I’ll make a cup of tea.”

  “We can have that ham now.” Ella reached over for the plates, finding her appetite in an instant.

  Cal stared at her for a moment but said nothing. He made up the fire and boiled the billy while she kept up inconsequential chatter designed to disguise her aches. When she’d served most of the food, she gave the ham bone to Girl, who trotted off with her treat into the scrub.

  Finishing her meal, Ella gazed at the pink-tinted clouds that stretched across the horizon. “We can’t be more than a couple of hours from home. Should we go on?”

  Cal gave her a shaded glance. “We’ve earned our rest.” He took off his boots and reclined on one elbow. “I think a dip in the water would refresh us.”

  “You dip. I’ll rest.”

  His mouth curved enigmatically. His heavy-lidded gaze scanned her. He leaned over, straightened her legs, and began unlacing her boots.

  His touch on her ankle sent a tingle up her leg. Her insides stirred. She sat, hoping the moment would extend. He pulled off her boots and stockings and stood, offering one hand.

  “You don’t honestly believe I want to swim?”

  He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I believe you would like to bathe with me.”

  An unbidden warmth touched her cheeks. She smiled, breathless as he scooped her soap out of her pack. With his hand on her waist, he guided her to the river’s edge, where she stood uncertain, wary but energized as he pulled his shirt out of his waistband and over his head. “Undress.”

  Her body quivering with anticipation she dropped her blouse by his shirt, knowing her chemise covered her modesty. In that moment, he stepped out of his trousers. He stood naked before her. She stilled, not certain where to look. He made the decision for her when he began to untie her skirt and so she watched his hands, large and strong, square-fingered, warm, and brushing her belly. Her pulse pounded so hard she could hear the thud.

  Before a single doubt could enter her mind, she kicked off her skirt, leaving the fabric puddled beside her, and crossed her arms at the hem of her thigh-length chemise, scooping up the muslin. Finally, she stood naked with a naked man who looked so perfect that her thundering heart almost stopped.

  With a tender expression on his face, he reached over and pulled the pins from her hair. Using gentle fingers, he combed her locks into a crinkled fall across her shoulders. Then, smiling, he picked up her soap and, taking her hand, led her into the water. The flow tugged at her ankles. She pulled back. At its deepest, the river was waist high, but here in the shallowest part the water-slick rocks were a test of her balance. If she slipped...she didn’t want to go farther than her reach from the bank.

  He stopped and toed a few stones out of the way. “We’ll be safe here. We don’t need to go any deeper,” he said, clearing a section with his foot. His hand slid under her hair to the skin of her back, transferring his confidence to her. He sat, drawing her down with him.

  The water had warmed with the day. She found herself between his knees, her back to his chest. He lifted her hair, dropping a fall forward over her breasts. His body heat added to the luxurious experience of his bare skin against hers. Not yet able to relax she tensed with sensuous enjoyment. His lathered palms began to wash her rib cage, paying no particular attention to the undersides of her breasts, which somehow got in the way. The man meant to tease her, make her forget about being in the river. He stroked down her arms and across her neck and shoulders, but her every nerve ending knew that stimulation was his priority. Giving in to pleasure, she angled back, gasping as he traced the suds over her breasts.

  His fingers caressed her nipples until she couldn’t breathe while, achingly aroused, she slid her hands the length of his thighs and back again. Her head rested against the junction of his shoulder and neck. She turned slightly and, with sensual testing, ran her lips across his bristled jaw.

  His mouth met hers. He groaned, gripping her waist, turning her to face him, and lifting her across his thighs. His male hardness pressed against her buttocks. She curled her hands onto his shoulders, and he leaned ov
er her, leaving her hair to float in the current. Within an instant she panicked. The sound of water rushed in her ears. She stiffened, pushing her palms into his upper chest.

  He cupped her head, his lips gently persuading her to relax. Her arms relaxed a little as he lifted her head higher and began to lather her hair. His fingers were strong but gentle. None of her memories included her hair being washed by another. She kept her gaze on his face, nervous, pleased, and yet dreading her next immersion, less intimidating for he smiled. His confidence persuaded her to leave herself to his unknown mercies.

  Finally, he helped her sit again and, with an expression of concentration, wrung out her hair. This small gesture touched her to her depths. Needing to express her appreciation, she took the soap from him, smiling at his reluctance. She disciplined her mouth and made foam with her fingers. Then, using massaging strokes, she rubbed over his bunched biceps, his wide shoulders, and his muscular chest, lingering over his masculine form until she had changed her luxurious reciprocation into a sensual indulgence. The man had physical qualities that heated her past endurance. She loved his size and strength, and she loved the way he set the benchmark for the perfect male body.

  She threw the soap to the bank, and he grabbed her into his embrace, kissing her with passion.

  His time for deliberation seemed to have passed.

  Chapter 15

  Ella had never been so sure about anything in her life. The water streamed off Cal’s wide shoulders as he carried her to the shore. He deposited her on her feet, smiling softly as he wrapped her in her towel. His eyes stayed on her while he wiped himself down with his shirt. “Why not drop that?” He indicated her towel. “And let me see all of you.”

  She let her towel drop as for the first time she scanned his big, beautiful body. The sight of his arousal set her heart thudding. She couldn’t fit him inside her...but she had, before. Her body heated and tingled, and she trembled. He took her into his arms and walked her backward to his blanket, sinking to his knees and carefully placing her on her back.

  He kissed her and then rested his gorgeous weight on top of her.

  She parted her legs, aching with need. His skin was steamy hot. She clung to him. His muscles tightened. His tongue tipped hers and entered into the heat and wetness of her mouth. His male part entered her and withdrew with tantalizing slowness. The painful anticipation built. She moved with him. She could concentrate on nothing but sensation. He thrust deeper and harder and she wanted him to continue forever. The expectation of each thrust was as pleasurable as the stretch inside her. Her hands gripped and clenched his buttocks, encouraging his rhythmical entry. And then he withdrew.

  “No.”

  “Shh.” He breathed out hard and slid down her body, taking her with his mouth.

  At first, his tongue seemed too soothing, as if he wanted to lull her storm. But within seconds, she appreciated the delicacy of his touch and understood that he stimulated her where her nerve endings met. She jolted spontaneously and, without knowing how or why, she went into a spasm of sensation. She clutched at his hair, panting and apologizing.

  With barely a pause, and certainly ignoring her confused entreaties, he moved to his previous position, dropping his mouth across hers. His enjoyment of what she decided could not possibly be wickedness, for she reveled in the taste of herself on his lips, added to hers.

  Soon he entered her again and they moved together in a pattern so compelling that her insides exploded with pleasure. One contraction followed another while he stilled and lifted onto his palms, then he slowly withdrew. His strong face tensed and he groaned, moving downward and out of the bracket of her legs. She stared at him, glorying in his maleness.

  She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you” seemed inadequate. She reached out and ran her palms over his shoulders. He turned his head and kissed one of her hands. For no reason she could imagine, she wanted to cry. Instead, she smiled. “You’ll have to ask me to marry you now.”

  She wished she’d bitten her tongue when she saw the expression on his face. She’d meant her words as a joke, but he hadn’t heard them as such.

  “I’m afraid so.” He rolled off her, his expression unreadable. “Will you marry me, Miss Beaufort?”

  “I don’t accept proposals made under duress.”

  He sat up and leaned over his bent knees. One hand lifted to knead his forehead. “You might have no choice. I didn’t give you my seed, I hope, but despite my best intentions...” He glanced at her from under his thick lashes. “If anything eventuates from this, please remember that I’m prepared to take responsibility for my...dashed...idiocy just then.”

  “Idiocy?” She breathed in. “I had the impression that my charms overwhelmed you.”

  “Let’s hope they didn’t overwhelm us into becoming parents.”

  Her throat dried. “Should I be left with your child, I’ll seek you out with a shotgun.”

  “You’ll send me word.”

  “Oh, dear life. A woman never gets pregnant the first time,” she said, managing to inject a tone of frivolity.

  She pulled her damp hair onto one shoulder and began to twist the length into a semblance of order. Not so her mind, which she couldn’t untangle. From the first he’d been clear that he wasn’t a marrying man. If she trapped him he would hate her. “Aside from that...” She took a deep breath. “I couldn’t take my money to a husband. My sisters’ security would be at risk. I can see a way ahead for us now and I can’t give up.”

  “However, if I had some money you wouldn’t have a problem.”

  “Few women have problems with monied men. They can live where they like and choose their lifestyle. Mine has been predetermined until Vianna is at least eighteen.”

  “I thought the same about my life until I changed it.”

  “Men! You have those opportunities. We women are stuck with what you leave us and we have to make the best of the worst. I’m darned if I want to be forced into making the best of another losing situation. I’ll take a rich man or I’ll take the risk of my future into my own hands.” She stood and marched over to her bedroll, where she found her comb and distracted herself by roughly untangling her hair.

  He stared at her face, then he nodded. “I understand. You’ve made that clear.”

  Her mind awhirl, she dragged at her hair until, mainly dry, the sections were ready to braid. She would have liked him to argue with her and tell her that he could use her portion of the money in a way that would assure her family’s livelihood if she cared to be with him. However he sat, staring into the dying fire until darkness began to hide the landscape. With nothing more to be said, and with him apparently disinterested in her charms now that he’d taken the edge off his idiocy, she slid into her chemise and set her bedroll at a distance from his.

  The waxing moon cast silver highlights onto his naked chest. She wished he would dress. Her attraction to him hadn’t lessened, probably would never lessen while his beauty of body and strength of character only served to emphasize the contradiction of her need for autonomy and her wish to have her future assured.

  When he held out his hand to her and said, “Come here,” she rose and went to him. If nothing more, she could enjoy his momentary comfort.

  He enfolded her in his arms and lay back with her while she gazed at a million shimmering stars. Surrounded by his calm she slept.

  Sometime in the night, she felt his mouth meld with hers. He gave her body a respite she hadn’t realized she needed until his thrusts built her to an intense release. Again, he spilt his seed into his own hand and again she slept. And again, he woke her, this time during the pale light of dawn, making slow and expert love to her until she wondered if he or she would ever slake the desire they had for each other. Her body seemed to belong to another person, one who had no responsibility other than for pleasure.

  She dressed when he did and left the camp with few words and the painful thought that this secretive episode would on
e day be only a memory in a life empty of all but duty.

  * * * *

  Cal rode toward the woolshed, leading the herd of horses with Ella bringing up the rear. Within moments, Frank’s grinning face appeared in the shed doorway.

  “It’s them,” he yelled loudly enough to shake the rafters. He and the other shearers whooped and raced outside over to the stable paddock gate.

  “Took your time,” Alf said, breathless.

  “Jed turned up this morning,” Ned said from a position beside Cal’s stirrup as Frank swung open the gate. “He brought back the chestnuts and the stock horses and disappeared after saying you and Missy would turn up later. You’re earlier than we expected.”

  Cal dismounted while the shearers ushered the horses through the gate. One of the Clydesdales whickered a greeting to the horses as they entered. “I thought Alf said we had dallied.”

  “You know Alf. He don’t like to pay anyone a compliment.” Ned began to unsaddle Cal’s horse.

  Cal helped Ella dismount. Although she didn’t need help he wanted to hold her one last time. She didn’t linger in his arms, a deed he regretted and applauded at the same time.

  “Thank you. My, but it’s nice to be home.” She smiled brightly at Ned. “Are we in time for lunch, or have you eaten already? I’m afraid I’m not as good at telling the time by the sun as I ought to be.”

  “We’ve eaten.” Benji unsaddled her horse. “Here’s Miss Rose. Reckon she’ll find something for you in a trice.”

  With an expression of concern, Rose took both Ella’s hands in hers. “You’re as brown as a berry. I suspect you haven’t been wearing your hat. We’ll need to get some lotion on your face.”

  Cal scowled at her. “Your sister has been doing three men’s jobs for the past four days, and now she is tired and hungry.”

  Rose lifted her cool face to Cal. “And so I shall feed her and you, and then she shall rest. We missed you, Ella. You must come inside and tell us about your adventure.”

  At that moment, Vianna came flying from the homestead. The back door banged behind her. “Miffy, Miffy,” she yelled. “Oh, she’s back, the darling, darling thing.” She pelted into the stable paddock, where her pony had already nudged between the Clydesdales at the water trough.