Mystic Mountains

by Tricia McGill

  "Come now, Tiger, don't take me for a fool. You're not the kind of man to go without a woman in your bed for any length of time. There has to be someone else."

  "Does there?" He gently removed her hand, glancing at the bountiful breasts now heaving with suppressed anger, the smooth line of her ivory hips, the graceful curve of her waistline. "If there is, that is my business and mine alone, Selena." She had successfully put the final nail in the coffin.

  "I'll get even with you for this, Tiger Carstairs!" Her slim pale hands clenched into fists, and for a moment he thought she might throw caution to the winds and rake his cheek with the talons she'd used many times to excite him in bed.

  "Oh, Selena, darling." His sigh was exaggerated as he ran a finger down one of her flushed cheeks. "Don't get melodramatic, please. We've had some good times together. You're a woman of the world and knew the way of the game. Let's not spoil what we've shared."

  "I'll find out who it is, and make her pay." Her eyes narrowed with menace, and for a moment she looked more than her age, the lines about her eyes and mouth more pronounced.

  "Do that and you'll rue the day." With that steely summation he pointed a finger at her, opened the door and walked out.

  Tiger paused fractionally as she slammed it so hard behind him the walls seemed to vibrate. He went through the front door with his back rigid, then heard her yelling like a wharf-side doxie for her maid as he reached for Satan's reins.

  There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he rode home. Your trouble, Timothy Carstairs, he rebuked himself, is you're too soft in the centre. Never did like hurting a female. If it were any other woman he would likely have had little regret about ending the affair. But Selena, for all her sharp words, had been a fine mistress, meeting his every need with a fervor matching his own.

  Was he a fool? Perhaps. Too late now for going back. The matter had been drawing to a head for months now, ever since a certain red-haired shrew entered his life and turned it around. Closing his eyes he let Satan find his own way home.

  The little wench had felt so soft, so womanly in his arms that one time he'd held her. Her curves were not as luscious as Selena's, her legs not as long, and her face nowhere near as beautiful, so why did his every waking thought settle on her?

  Was it the way she stirred his protective instincts and brought out something essentially masculine in him? She was his property, after all. His to sample any time he chose. He laughed out loud at that bit of foolishness. What an assumption. She'd likely go for him with a carving knife if he tried to bed her. Mind you, the little chit wasn't immune to him; he'd proved that much. He sighed, still able to feel her pliant softness beneath his hands. Tiger groaned as desire rose up in him, strong and deep. Then he called himself all the fools. Thelma would kill him if he took liberties with the girl. And likely demand he wed her.

  The marriage trap was one he'd thought seriously about lately. Truth was, a man with his background had a very well defined path to tread here in the colony. His aim was to find a presentable female from the upper echelon. Looks meant little; it was the title and position he was after. Since his arrival, his burning ambition, after making a fortune, had been to walk the hallowed paths the nobs trod. And the only way for him to achieve that goal was by marrying into the gentry.

  So he'd do well to keep his lecherous leanings towards the red-haired witch under control.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Don't be daft, girl, of course you'll go." Thelma gave Isabella an arch look before bending to her sewing.

  Isabella scowled at Tiger's broad back. "I thought I had a choice in what I did. That's what I was told soon after I came here. As long as I did my work and didn't cause any trouble then I was free to do as I wish."

  Tiger stood at the dresser, his eyes on a book, apparently ignoring the conversation. But when he turned and she saw his scowl echoed her own, she knew he was aware of everything she'd said.

  "I'm still your owner, little tartar, and if I say you'll accompany me to the Governor's Christmas ball, then you will accompany me."

  "That's what you think."

  His golden brows shot up. "You must be a few brains short, woman. 'Tis well known the Governor takes pride in being a staunch believer in allowing the cons to rub shoulders with the free settlers. He's made many enemies by supporting the emancipists. Most of the convict women in Sydney would give their right arm to be allowed to go to a ball at Government House."

  "Well, I'm not them, am I?" Isabella got up and lifted the hem of her skirt a fraction to shake her misshapen foot at him. "They can give their right arm, an' they'd still be able to cavort with the fine ladies and gents, wouldn't they? But with my lame foot I'll only show you up."

  Tiger dropped his gaze to the wiggling foot, then brought it up to her flushed face. "Aha, so 'tis only that that's stopping you, is it, eh?"

  "Not only that. I can't dance. And I'd look pretty silly wouldn't I, standing about like a dummy while all the others are prancing about." With a stubborn tilt to her head, she plunked down on the chair.

  There was another reason she wouldn't go. He'd only thought of her because he wasn't taking his mistress. Though why he couldn't take his fancy paramour she didn't know. From what she'd seen of Selena Drake the woman was fit to mingle in any company. She was beautiful, and obviously able to deck out in all the finery, for the gown she'd worn on the occasion Isabella saw her was enough to make a person's mouth water. Isabella pestered Thelma for her identity in church one Sunday after she'd noticed the nobs' wives and daughters giving the woman a wide berth. Could that be the reason Tiger wasn't taking her to the ball this year? Although if it was, it was a rare thing for him to worry about what others thought.

  "I'll teach you to dance. 'Tis the most simple thing in the world." He came to stand over her, his arrogant stance intimidating.

  "I don't wish to." Isabella bit her lip, lowering her head to hide the yearning filling her. She knew she sounded like an ungracious trollop, but couldn't help herself.

  "Must I keep repeating myself? You have no say in it."

  Isabella felt sure she heard him grind his teeth.

  Tiger heard Thelma's intake of breath and caught her look of condemnation. He winked and gave her a sly smile.

  He wondered briefly why he was bothering. The Irish termagant didn't deserve the time of day. So why was he pursuing it? Because he was a stubborn, stupid half-wit, that's why.

  Selena put great store in going to the Governor's ball. She'd been his only bed companion for two years. At thirty-five she was still able to draw the eyes of most men in the colony, but Tiger had no regrets about ending their liaison.

  "I'll teach you to dance." Now why had he repeated that? The sun must have got to him. He shook his head, grimacing when Thelma gave him an approving nod.

  "Even if I could dance, I've got nothing to wear." Isabella pressed her fingers over her knees, straightening the skirt of her plain calico dress.

  Tiger gave a long-suffering sigh. "What do you take me for, woman? If I'm taking you to the ball it goes without saying I'll make sure you don't show me up or yourself. All right?"

  "Why are you doing this? Thelma, why is he doing this—he knows he'd sooner take…" She bit her lip.

  "Who I take is my affair and nobody else's." Tiger cursed under his breath. Running a hand through his hair he glared at everyone in the kitchen. "I'm going. I'll not ask again." With a snort of impatience he strode out.

  "You ought to go with him, Bella," Dougal said. Isabella saw his mouth turn down at the corners and knew the last thing he wanted was for her to go anywhere with Tiger, let alone to a ball at Government House. His knuckles were white where he'd clenched his fingers.

  "Why, just because he's the lord and master? He doesn't own me, Dougal."

  "He does, Bella," Dougal reminded her.

  Isabella pressed her lips together defiantly.

  "Dougal's right, Bella—you shouldn't miss such an opportunity," Thelma agreed, and Gillie nod
ded, waving his pipe up and down along with his head.

  "But I don't know how to move, talk or act among gentry, Thelma. I'll make an idiot of myself. He'll wish to goodness he hadn't asked me." Isabella stared at her hands. Perhaps that's what she should do, go and show him up. Why had he asked her? The question nagged at her.

  "He offered to teach you to dance. Don't throw his offer back down his throat. And as for them being gentry, that's rubbish. The Governor has a habit of asking ex convicts to his house. He likes to rub the noses of the free settlers in it. They think they're too good to mix with the likes of us. If you let this opportunity pass you'll live to regret it." Thelma pushed herself out of the chair and slowly stood up. "Anyway, I'm off to bed." Folding her sewing she put it in the basket on the dresser. "'Night all."

  "I'll come with you, love." Gillie also rose. "Put out the lamps, Dougal, will you. Just leave one on for Tiger. Goodnight." He followed Thelma out.

  A wind had sprung up earlier. The door and windows were open wide to let as much cool air in as possible, and a gust sent leaves swirling across the floor. Aimlessly Isabella fetched the broom to sweep them out.

  "Who would have thought nine months ago you'd be getting an invite to the Governor's ball, eh, Bella?" Dougal sat twisting a piece of twine in his fingers. "I wish I could take you. I wish I could do all the things Tiger does."

  "Tush, Tiger, Tiger!" Isabella thumped the broom against the wall. "What's so grand about the things he does, eh? He tells a load of stories and pretends he's something he's not. And why do you want to do what he does? You want to get a fancy mistress and set her up in a fine house with a parlor, eh? Well, go ahead, what's to stop you? You're a free man, go off on your own and make a fortune same as he has. Perhaps he'll teach you how to gamble." Isabella limped over to the door. "I'm going out to the privy. I can't stand to listen to all the praises you heap on him." She pushed her dress away from her neck and sighed, wiping perspiration from her face on her apron hem.

  "I should have thought by now you'd realize how well off we are here. I couldn't make my way as he's done, and you know it. Some of us were made to work for someone all our lives. I don't have what it needs to strike out on my own. I still shudder sometimes when I think of what life might have been like if Tiger hadn't stepped in and spoken for us. You could have ended up with Malloy. And I could have ended up working with the sheep, alone somewhere with only the animals to talk to, until I went mad like some of the shepherds do out there alone for weeks on end." He did shudder then, as he went to snuff out the candles in two of the lamps.

  Isabella sighed. "You're right, Dougal." No good arguing against his logic. She knew how well off she was. "Goodnight." With her hand on the door-frame she smiled at him.

  Dougal walked over to stand in front of her. By the light of the one candle she saw the glimmer in his eyes and knew it for what it was. He put a hand on her arm and his head bent to hers.

  Isabella drew back sharply, seeing the disappointment clear in his eyes. How she wished she could return his feelings, but she just couldn't.

  "Bella?" There was a wealth of yearning in the one word.

  "Oh, Dougal, let's not change things, eh?" Isabella gave a shuddery sigh. "You're a dear friend to me, an' I'll always be grateful to you. But ..."

  In a rare show of temper he pushed her away. "Grateful? It's not your gratitude I'm after, Bella, an' you know it. I see the way the land lies. An' you're barking up the wrong tree, same as me. He's got his eyes set firmly on marrying one of the nobs' daughters. If you think he's ever going to look at you as anything more than an Irish biddy who works for him, you're sadly mistaken."

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Dougal. What a load of rubbish. What would I have feelings for that Englishman for? You know as well as me that I wouldn't give him the time of day."

  "Bella, Bella." He drew in a long sad breath then let it out slowly, touching her cheek with a finger. She backed away and he swore under his breath. "I've got eyes in my head. I've seen the way your eyes follow him around. Seen the way you wait for him to throw you a kind word or a fleeting look. I'm surprised you didn't jump at the offer to go with him to the ball; you've been begging him to look your way."

  "You're mad." Cheeks glowing, she pushed at him with both hands. "I don't know where you get your ideas. Just because I can't have deeper feelings for you, you think I hanker after him."

  "I'm no madder than you. An' let me tell you this, Bella, don't expect me to be here to pick up the pieces when you fall apart."

  Rarely had she seen him show anger. The veins in his temples stood out and his thick neck was taut. Isabella pushed past him and fled to the privy. What had come over Dougal? Her dear friend was turning against her.

  In her room she pulled on her nightgown, then restlessly prowled about. Perhaps what annoyed her most about Dougal's outburst was the grain of truth in his words. She hadn't wanted to upset Dougal. Why did he have to be so possessive? He would always hold a special place in her heart, but she could never see him as a lover, could never see herself spending the rest of her life sharing heartaches and precious moments with him. No, when her mind recklessly allowed itself to wander down forbidden paths, the shadowy figure who always shared her most intimate thoughts, yearnings and hopes had a mane of gold and flashing eyes the color of the same precious metal.

  "Idiot!" She pulled the pins from her hair and began to brush it. With a sensuous movement she lifted it from her shoulders and let it slide through her fingers. Funny how the length of one's hair had such a remarkable effect on how you felt. For the first few months here she'd felt no different from the boy she knew she resembled with her cropped hair and bony figure. Now she imagined herself to be almost voluptuous, with her rounded shape and her longer tresses. Her hair shone as it never had. Taking a clump she touched it to her lips, loving the silky slide of it over them.

  With an impatient shrug she tossed the brush on the bed and threw her hair back. Dragging in a long breath she went to stare into the speckled mirror on the small bedside chest. Plain, was what she was. Why fool herself, she would probably end up with Dougal, for he was the only man who would ever spare her the time of day, apart from those who only had lustful thoughts and would try to take any female they could. Tiger Carstairs was heading for the top of the social ladder. Likely she would do the same in his shoes.

  The others were right, she was ungrateful. Any girl in her right mind would take Dougal and thank their stars they had a good man who worshipped them and was willing to do anything for them. But deep down she knew if she gave Dougal what he wanted, the day would come when he would hate her.

  It was stifling in here, the ceiling and walls closing in on her. She'd never felt less like sleep in her life. Some strange emotion ate at her, making her restless and dissatisfied.

  Easing the door open she went into the dim kitchen. It would be nice to go outside, to walk in the darkness alone, but Dougal would see her, and she had no desire to meet him again this night. And even after nine months in this new land she still had a fear of the many odd creatures roaming here. Only last week Tiger killed a snake that found its way into the kitchen, petrifying her and Thelma.

  Standing near the window she stared out at the big white oval of a moon. It sent eerie shadows slanting over the yard, turning the familiar garden into a place of mystery.

  Sighing, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, then went to sit in the chair Tiger had made his own. Smoothing her palms over the armrests Isabella pulled her feet beneath her and rested her head back. She yawned, then closed her eyes. Beneath her dropped lids she imagined his strong body beneath hers, could almost feel his muscled arms about her as he cradled her close to his hard chest.

  Isabella jerked her eyes open, wondering what had woken her. Tilting her head, she heard one of the dogs softly whining outside the door. Better get to her room. The last thing she wanted was Tiger coming in to find her in his chair.

  She had one foot to the fl
oor when the door opened and the man who'd been occupying her thoughts entered. He reared back in surprise when he caught sight of her halfway out of his chair.

  "Well, well, did you wait up for me?" he drawled, his voice as smooth and soft as honey.

  "I couldn't sleep."

  Tiger watched in amusement as her chin went up. What on earth was the chit doing out here at this time of night, in her night shift too? And a pretty sight she made in it. He'd obviously awakened her, for her eyes still had a drowsy look he found immensely provocative.

  "Do you make a habit of wandering about in the middle of the night?" He took his hat off and set it on the peg behind the door.

  "I'm not wandering about. I'm sitting," she said with a toss of the head that sent her silken hair swirling.

  Tiger swallowed. The red tresses were always half hidden beneath her cap. He'd rarely seen her hair uncovered, and certainly not loose, since the night he'd rescued her. The shiny locks had grown so much. His fingers itched to touch it, to see if the strands felt as smooth and silky as they looked. He clasped his hands behind his back.

  She was standing now, quite wide awake and preparing to scamper back to her hole like a frightened animal. Tiger sauntered across the room, putting himself in line with her bedroom door. She would have to pass him to reach her sanctuary. "Perhaps you waited up for your dancing lessons, hmm?" Suppressing a grin he eyed her up and down, knowing she cringed beneath his scrutiny.

  "I don't want any lessons. I won't be needing them."

  Her defiance annoyed him. He lifted his brows and gave her the look Selena had often told him shouted insolence.

  Tiger moved closer, stalking her as she sidled along the side of the table. He felt rather like a tiger hunting a fawn, for that was what she looked like with her shadowed eyes and furrowed brow.

  "I wish to take you to the ball, miss. You will dance with me if I have to tie you to my body." He rushed forward when she made to dart past him.