by Faye Hall
“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at him as he lifted her struggling from the saddle. “Where the hell are we?”
“We’re out near Sandy Creek and hopefully far enough away from any trouble you might have caused back in Ravenswood tonight. I honestly doubt any of those drunken fools are going to brave the North Queensland scrub all for a reluctant bit of skirt, though. Still, you can never be too careful.”
Navigating through the quickly dimming evening light, he made his way to the nearest gum tree, and threw the horses reins over the lowest branch.
“We’ll set up camp here for the night. It’s not safe to travel through these parts in the dark. We’ll make a fresh start early in the morning.”
She started to back away from him. “You can’t expect me to actually spend the night out here with you?”
“You will if you want to stay safe, Miss” Duncan rebutted, unsaddling the horse, and carrying the bag closer to where he thought to set up the fire for the night. “Men in these parts don’t see women like you often. I dare not think what would’ve happened to you should I have not arrived at the hotel when I did.”
He stepped cautiously toward her. “Now, Miss Porter, if you would just come here so I can get us set up for the night. It’s already late and we have an early start in the morning.”
She continued stepping away from him, keeping the distance between them. “You stay away from me, you bastard!” she spat at him, making her way slowly back in the direction of the horse. “I’m returning to Ravenswood, sir, and you can tell my family and my fiancé you never found me.”
Just as she was struggling to mount the horse with her still-bound wrists, Duncan reached for her, pulling her kicking and screaming back toward him. Reaching for another length of rope from the pocket of his jeans, he tied it around her waist. Dragging her over to another gum tree, he tied the other end around it.
“You can’t expect me to sleep like this!” she shouted at him, struggling against her restraints and kicking at the dusty ground.
“I need to build a fire,” he uttered, unamused by her continued fighting of him. Bending down, he reached for the twigs and kindling near where her leather riding boots finally settled in the loose dirt.
Straightening again, he looked her square in the eye. “The sun is already setting, Miss Porter and without a fire we’re a sitting target for any unfriendly natives and the mosquitoes.”
Turning away from her then, Duncan walked back toward where he had dropped his saddlebag and began building a fire from the twigs he’d gathered and the kindling he kept with him. Try as he did to busy himself arranging the makings for the fire, he couldn’t ignore the struggles and cries for help he could hear coming from behind him. He wished he could explain things to her, maybe make her understand he had little more choice than she to be here this night, but he doubted it would make any difference.
Things still were what they were.
If Duncan didn’t return Miss Porter to her family as ordered and collect the money promised to him, the men he owed money to, the men who had taken over his cattle station and taken up residence in his station house, would come looking for him. He had some idea what would happen to him should they get a hold of him too. He dreaded to think what would happen to this woman though should these men come looking for him before he had safely returned this woman to her home on Inkerman Downs Station.
Glancing over his shoulder to where she stood, still fighting against her restraints, Duncan admitted that other than her starched stiff clothing, this woman wasn’t at all what he’d expected to find. Usually the women he was sent to retrieve were wilting flowers who took one moment of bravery to leave an unwelcomed betrothal but they always dutifully returned with him to go through with their honour to Queen and country and marry their intended, their joined family fortunes returning to finance business back in the motherland, England.
Turning back away from this woman, his attention going to the kindling he was trying to light, he doubted anything about Miss Porter was wilting or dutiful. She seemed much stronger in spirit than any other woman he’d crossed paths with here in Australia; strong enough maybe to even forego her duty of her betrothal. Duncan couldn’t stop himself being curious about this woman and her need to escape her family. He understood she may not want to go through with an arranged marriage. Still the lengths she had gone to in her escape were above and beyond any he had ever seen before.
This woman sure was a mystery, and he found himself struggling against his urge to uncover the layers of this woman to find the secrets and unbound softness he was sure would be found underneath. He knew he couldn’t afford to be thinking such things about her, a woman who would no doubt fight him every step of the way should he even lay an affectionate hand on her or even offer a kind word to. She was beautiful, though...far more so than any woman he had ever laid eyes on before. Had he have met her under different circumstances...had he have been a different man...
Duncan shook his head at his own foolishness. He knew better than anyone that he wasn’t a different man though. He was little better than a bounty hunter sent to bring this girl back to a life she obviously didn’t want. The bit he knew of her fiancé, Duncan knew also that a woman as beautiful as Miss Porter didn’t deserve the life waiting for her back in Inkerman.
But he had no choice. His hands were tied and he had to return her or suffer the consequences.
Smoke rising from the kindling he held in his hand, his attention was drawn back to the task before him and he quickly buried the kindling under the pile of larger wood he had collected, watching as the flames quickly took over. Rising to his feet and dusting the loose dirt from his jeans, he turned back around to the woman tied to the tree, his steps measured as he approached her.
“Now, Miss Porter, are you going to behave yourself if I untie you?”
She nodded, a look of slight fear on her face.
Stopping before her, Duncan reached forward and began untying both ropes that held her.
“We need to find you something more suitable to wear, Miss. Woollen riding habits have no place in this North Queensland heat. “You’d be more—”
His words were cut short as he felt a hard knee connect with his manhood. Hunched over in sheer pain, he noticed her shaking off the ropes that he’d loosed around her wrists, swinging her right fist at his face, narrowly missing his jaw. In pure confusion and crippling pain, Duncan fell to the dusty ground hoping to avoid being struck again.
“Are you crazy?” he yelled at her, his words strained. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You bastard!” she yelled at him, kicking him in the ribs. “You can go to hell...along with my family and my fiancé!”
She went to run away from him then but Duncan caught her ankle in his hand, pulling her to the dusty ground beside him. Reaching for one of the ropes that had fallen to the ground in the onslaught of her abuse, he again tied her wrists together. Fighting against her continued struggles, he manoeuvred the longest piece of rope to around her waist. Pulling her back to stand on her feet, he tied the other end to his belt.
“Seems you’ll be sleeping with me tonight, Phoebe.”
* * * * *
Phoebe sat beside this brute of a man who had been sent to find her, poking at the few bits of meat and bread on her plate.
“You need to eat,” Duncan uttered. “We’ve got a long journey ahead of us and you’re going to need your strength. You best eat now because there mightn’t be many places we can stop along the way.”
She threw her plate down on the ground. “Bollocks. My family has travelled from Inkerman to Ravenswood delivering goods for years. It’s a very straight through track that takes barely more than a couple of days.”
“We aren’t taking the main track, Phoebe,” he rebutted, finishing his meal and placing his plate on the ground beside hers.
“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling even more uncertain.
“There are people I’d ra
ther not find us before I get you home, so we’ll be travelling just south of the main track.” Duncan explained. “It’s going to be a bit tough going through the uncleared scrub and may take a day or two more to get you back home. Rest assured though that I will get you back to your family safe and sound.”
“I don’t want to go back there!” she yelled at him.
Reaching for the rope tied to his belt, the man untied it, retying it to the fallen tree they had been sitting on.
“Still that’s where I will take you.”
Bending down, he gathered their used dishes up in his hand. “I need to go clean these up before we settle in for the night. I’ll only be an earshot away so don’t bother trying to escape.”
Phoebe watched as this man called Duncan walked away from her into the surrounding shrub, her anger at her own foolishness growing. She had been on the run from her family for several weeks now and not once had she been foolish enough to ever come close to being caught. That she had been now...she shook her head.
She hadn’t lied to him. She didn’t want to go back to her family, nor did she want to go back to the fiancé waiting for her, and she would do near anything to ensure neither person saw her again. She would even rather brave the dangers of the North Queensland outback than return to the life she’d left.
Losing sight of the man’s tall and blonde haired image through the scrub, with only the sounds of nature surrounding her, she began pulling at the ropes that held her. She needed to escape. Now.
She pulled hard at the knots in the ropes, and finally began to feel them loosen. Frantically she pulled at the rope around her waist, needing it to slacken just enough that she could squeeze herself through. Finally freeing herself, she hooked the rope binding her wrists around the spike from a broken branch and pulled and sawed at the fibre as if her life depended on it. Hearing the crackle of the breaking rope, hope began to fill her. She pushed the now-broken rope from her wrists and to the dusty ground beneath her feet. She turned instantly, readying to flee into the scrub around her and to her freedom. She was surprised to find her captor standing barely a few feet away from her, having not heard his approach.
“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Duncan asked, his tone harsh, his hands coming up and grabbing her hard around her wrists.
Phoebe struggled against the strength of the man. She kicked at him hoping to injure him enough that he would have no choice but to let her go.
He kept his body a safe distance away from her assaulting feet; his strong hands holding her firm.
“Only an insane woman would want to risk travelling out here at this hour and by herself!” He shook her slightly as if trying to shake some sense into her. “Darkness breeds dangers, Miss Porter.”
His words fell on deaf ears as she continued fighting him.
“Anywhere would be safer than being here with you!” she yelled at him.
Spinning her around, his arms engulfed her. He held her back against him tightly, with her rear nestled into his hips trying to stop her struggle.
“There are far worse dangers out here than me!” his tone was firm yet soft against her ear. “If you think you are brave enough to face them, though, be my guest.”
With that, he let her go, pushing her away from him.
Phoebe spun around to look at him, her gaze met the stern green of his own. She knew her confusion over his actions was obvious. “You’re letting me go?”
Duncan just stared at her. “If you think you can survive the dangers out there in that darkness on your own then yes, I’ll let you go free.”
Turning away from him then, she ran for her life, fleeing into the surrounding scrub.
Phoebe didn’t turn back. She ran as fast as she could with no direction in mind. Tree branches scratched at her face and clothing, and the dry leaves crackled beneath her leather riding boots. Ignoring the slight stinging from the light cuts on her hands, she kept running, knowing she needed to get as far away from this man as possible. If she didn’t, then she was surely a dead woman, be it by his hand or that of her family’s.
Phoebe objected to the marriage her parents had arranged for her when she was first told of it several months back. She objected more so when she discovered, weeks after the announcement, the price her parents had demanded for the hand of their only daughter in marriage…murder.
In recent months, she had inherited a great sum of money and property from a spinster aunt; money her parents would do anything for to have in their possession. Upon arranging their daughter’s betrothal to Gordon MacAllester, Charles and Mary Porter made it very clear to him that she was to befall a fatal accident as soon as humanly possible, leaving them the only family left to take possession of her inheritance.
Phoebe listened in from her hiding place as Gordon had argued the point with his future in-laws, demanding that he, too, was entitled to a share of the money if he had to go through with not only the marriage but also the arranging of the fatal accident too. After much arguing and threats, her parent’s agreed and together they began to plot her untimely death.
She knew she was never meant to find out though, but having suspected something else might have been afoot with the arranged marriage so close to her inheritance, she learnt to keep a close eye on their behaviours, and an even closer ear on the many whisperings between them all.
When she overheard the conversation between her parents and her fiancé plotting her death, she did the only thing she knew she could.
She ran.
She had no direction at first, only thinking that she wanted to get as far away from her family as possible. She certainly hadn’t thought to run straight into the arms of this man who had sought her out.
Never before had she seen a man like Duncan. He dressed so simply in jeans and a buttoned cotton shirt, a wide brimmed hat hiding his short blonde hair. He looked to have a few days growth on his face, and little tolerance for the other grooming men from the towns usually partook in.
Phoebe had no doubt that he made a regular living out of finding women such as herself who had fled the restrictions of their family and an unwanted husband. Still she found herself wondering just how far he would go to get the money no doubt waiting for him back at Inkerman Downs Station.
She found herself wondering if he had ever hurt a woman in anger, for she was certain by just looking at him that he would never have had to force one to share his bed. Still she wondered if he had ever raised his gun in anger, or worse still, shot a man…or a woman.
Part of her wondered too if Duncan made a habit of bedding the women he sought out, or had ever fallen in love with one of them. Phoebe didn’t know if these things had happened, but nor could she afford to find out. All she knew was she didn’t want this to happen to her; she couldn’t afford it to. She had never lain with a man before, and she certainly didn’t plan on jumping into this man’s bed in the vain hope that it may stop him from returning her to her family.
For all she knew, this man could be dangerous...even more dangerous than her fiancé.
He could be a murderer on the run from the police. He could even work for her fiancé.
Remembering the slight carefulness he had shown upon handling her though, Phoebe doubted Duncan was any comparison to her fiancé. He was a bounty hunter, nothing more. He was right about something though. There were far worse dangers out there than him, but she would be damned if he would return her to them. She doubted this man would understand should she explain her reasons for fleeing her family and betrothed in the first place. She doubted more so that her captor would sympathise with her blight. She was a means to an end for him. Circumventing was her only choice.
Yet again she was on the run for her life.
Pushing through the thick scrub around her, Phoebe knew she would have to stop soon and try to get her bearings. She needed to find the main road and hopefully some transport back to Ravenswood. From there, she could get transport in a public carriage to as far away as she could
afford to pay.
So intent was she on looking for direction, she didn’t see the fig tree root arching up out of the ground until it was too late. Falling to the ground she tried to stifle her scream, not wanting to draw attention to her position. Stumbling to her feet, she brushed her woollen habit off of dried leaves and dirt. Scanning her surroundings, she was desperate to find some direction.
Hearing footsteps crunching on the dried leaves of the scrub around her, fear began to fill her as she thought of what could have found her. Stepping slowly away from the sound, she tried to tell herself that it was just some nocturnal animal foraging for food in the night. Hearing another set of footsteps, she knew this was no animal that had found her. Hearing male voices calling to each other, she began to fear what was to befall her. She had heard stories of the savagery of men in these parts, be they of native or civilized background, and she had no intentions of becoming yet another of their victims.
Hearing the voices nearing her, their footsteps drawing closer, she covered her mouth with her hands, fighting the urge to scream and cry out for help. Her breathing quickened, her whole body trembling as fear consumed her. So intent was she on keeping an eye on those that were threatening her, she stepped and slowly backed away from the approaching noises. She didn’t think to look behind her or to the trunk of the Corkwood Tree she was backing into.
Feeling the rough tree trunk hit her sharply in the back, she jumped in fear, her hands falling away from her mouth, her breathing coming in desperate fear filled gasps. Turning around and away from what she had run into, Phoebe heard the fabric of her coat near her shoulder rip slightly. No longer sure if it was a tree she had run into or one of those hunting her, she could contain her fear no more. But before she could let forth the scream that had been building in her throat, a masculine hand reached out for her and covered her mouth as he pulled her into the darkness of the densest part of the scrub.
