by Faye Hall
Chapter Two
“You scream and they’ll kill us both” the familiar masculine voice of Duncan whispered near her ear, his arms encircled and held her close against him.
Feeling herself being pulled along with this man, Phoebe tried to stifle her need to cry out for help. Finally feeling the scrub lessen under her feet, she felt her captor’s hold on her loosen, and his hand fall away from her mouth.
“We’ll wait them out here until they pass on through, then we’ll return to camp.”
Turning around suddenly, she looked at this man who had come to her rescue, her confusion evident.
“I told you,” he smiled at her slightly. “There are far worse dangers out here than me.”
* * * * *
Phoebe wasn’t sure how much time had passed as they waited for the men to give up their search, but it seemed like hours before she and her captor finally made the slow journey back to camp.
Sitting back on the broken tree near the fire, he looked up at her. “Would you like a warm drink? I’ve got some coffee in the saddlebags.”
She shook her head, amazed by this man’s apparent casualness after the events of the night.
“I’ll get the blankets from the horse. If you lay close to the fire it should keep the mosquitoes at bay. Should also keep you warm enough when the early morning temperatures drop.”
She stood watching while Duncan went about getting their bedding ready, and noticed the distance between their blankets.
“W-Will those men come back?” she asked, not trying to hide her fear.
Finishing their night preparations, he stood up and looked her straight in the eye. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Who were they?” Phoebe asked, a slight tremor in her tone.
Duncan eyed her carefully. “They are men who were sent after us...men who would be happy to see us both dead.”
Going to his blanket, he laid down for the night.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Sleeping. I thought that would be obvious.” Duncan answered.
“You expect me to sleep?” she shouted at him. “Knowing those bastards could come back!”
He shut his eyes. “I want to start again at first light. You’re going to need your rest.”
Annoyed at his dismissal of her, Phoebe stormed over to her blanket and laid down. Thinking of the events of the night, she began to realise just how lucky she was to still be unharmed. Glancing over to where her captor lay silently on his blanket, she knew this man had played a large part in ensuring her safety.
“Thank you for coming after me tonight, Mr MacAllester,” she uttered swallowing her pride. “If you hadn’t have those men would have undoubtedly found me.”
Silence surrounded them and she thought he had fallen asleep. Giving up on getting any response from him, she shut her eyes.
“You’re welcome, Miss Porter,” she heard him say as if from far away.
* * * * *
Duncan held his arm with his hand pressed tightly against the gun wound. He tried in vain to stop the bleeding.
His brother rushed at him, a knife raised to his throat.
“You lying son of bitch!” Gordon spat at him. “You honestly thought you could escape this all as if you were never at fault? You thought you could wipe your hands clean of the family...of me?”
Gathering all his courage, he spat into his brother’s face. “This isn’t a family!” he fought back against Gordon’s strong hold on him. “You are all lying, cheating whores that would trade in your own blood if it meant you would get a pay check!”
His brother reached desperately for him, stopping Duncan’s attempted escape. “And you are the worst of us all, dear brother!”
He swung at Gordon, punching him hard in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.
“Stop him!” his brother yelled as Duncan made a run for the only exit of the decaying old cottage.
Though Duncan tried to fight them off, the men sent after him managed to pull him to the ground, one man’s knee driving hard into his back.
“Now, Duncan,” Gordon said getting to his feet and brushing himself off. “You will stay and watch this beautiful woman of yours...Die!”
Duncan tried to struggle free, but it was useless.
“She’s not my woman!” Duncan tried desperately, knowing he needed to try anything to save her. “I never laid a hand on her!”
His brother ran up to him, kicking him hard across the side of the head.
“You liar!”
Gordon walked back over to the woman being held by the other men in the cottage. Lifting his hand up to her face, he squeezed her chin hard.
“Now, my lovely,” his brother said. “It seems it is your turn.”
“Leave her be!” Duncan yelled. “She’s innocent!”
But his words fell on deaf ears.
“Duncan!”
Duncan shot up from his blanket, his mind still a fog from the dream he had been having. His fingers instinctively went to the scar near his shoulder. Frantically he looked in the direction he had laid Phoebe’s blanket last night. He needed to reassure himself that she was safe.
She was gone.
He leapt to his feet and looked frantically around at the small campsite, the sun still struggling to rise in the east behind the tall native trees surrounding the camp. There was nothing out of place nor anything missing. Even his horse was still tethered to the tree.
All that was gone was Phoebe.
The darkness of the night was still only just fading into daylight, so Duncan figured she couldn’t have gone too far. Fear filled him as he thought that maybe she had run away again, though he hoped after what happened last night, she would have been smart enough to understand the dangers involved in such an act.
Trying to clear his still sleepy mind enough to gain some direction, he struggled to think in which direction she might have gone. He remembered having mentioned to her that they had stopped near Sandy Creek. Maybe she had gone looking for it to find some direction, so she could again make her escape. After all, she admitted to knowing this area herself, so it would only take a few landmarks and she would be miles away from him.
Pulling his dirt-stained shirt on as he made his way the short distance to the creek, he hoped upon hope that he would find her nearby before any of the local miners stumbled upon her and showed her just how uncouth these parts could be.
Nearing the creek, Duncan heard movement in the water ahead, like something or someone moving about in the water. Stopping behind the surrounding scrub that bordered the creek, he found himself studying the small stretch of water, looking for any signs of the woman that had again escaped him.
Standing in the middle of the cool-looking water was the image of a goddess. Her skin glistened with water as droplets ran down and across her erect nipples. He watched more droplets run down the small of her back and over the curve of her rear, her long wet hair following the same trail. The intense blackness of it stood out against the paleness of her skin.
She was an image to behold and he was quickly hypnotised by the beauty displayed before him. He had seen a woman in undress many times before, but never had he seen…
He shook his head needing to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t be thinking like this, especially not about this woman. She was a means to an end; a payment to give him back his life. Nothing more. Still...she was breathtaking in her beauty, and strong spirited to boot. Never before had Duncan been bested by a woman, especially not one the size of her. Most women he was sent to return cried the whole journey home. None were ever brave enough to try and escape. But this woman…
She had already escaped once. He had no doubt that she would try to do so again if given half the chance.
Telling himself that was his reason for lingering here, to keep watch over her, Duncan walked to the bank of the creek and sat down on the grass. His eyes never wavered from the wondrous display before him. A few years ago, he would have given near an
ything to have a woman such as her in his life, standing before him as she was now, offering herself to him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the words pierced through the lustful fog clouding his mind.
The feminine voice registered with him, and he looked at her. Her hands suddenly came up to cover her breasts. She sank into the water to avoid revealing any more of her nakedness to him.
“I said what the hell are you doing here?” she demanded yet again, her tone harsher and louder than before.
He kept his gaze on her. “I came to keep an eye on you, Miss Porter.”
“What the bloody hell for?” she asked, annoyance obvious in her tone. “I came down here to bathe!” she tried to explain. “I wasn’t trying to escape.”
“So you say.”
Duncan’s words were short, but he could think of nothing else to say. The mere presence of this woman taking any coherent thought away from him.
“Are you just going to sit there staring at me?” she asked. “If you were any sort of gentleman you would give me some privacy.”
He raised his brow, amused by her words.
“Who said I was a gentleman?” he asked with a slight smile.
“You son of a bitch!” she cursed at him.
Her frustration at his behaviour was plain to see, though Duncan wouldn’t apologize for it. He just stared at her and wondered exactly how soft her naked skin would be pressed against his own, with her legs wrapped around him in the throes of passion.
Hearing her slight huff of frustration, he watched as she walked out of the water, droplets of the obviously cooling liquid still covering her curvaceous body. He knew when he first laid eyes on her in that hotel in Ravenswood that Phoebe would be a beauty, but having her standing an arm’s reach away from him, the swell of her naked bosom tempting him, her erect nipple begging him to taste her, Duncan could feel his control slipping.
Turning around in front of him, she reached to the tree branch beside him to collect her petticoats and riding habit. He couldn’t help but let his gaze fall to the patch of soft curls covering her most intimate self. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her to him, and let his lips caress her skin. He wanted to taste the sweetness he was sure would be there. Pulling on the last of his fading control, Duncan reminded himself what happened the last time he fell into the arms of the wrong woman. He couldn’t risk that happening again.
This woman stood before him, her petticoats held behind her, with all her naked beauty displayed before him. As if unaware of what she had just put him through, she slowly pulled the petticoats around her, covering herself from his watchful eye, and began drying herself.
It was only when she went to walk past him and back in the direction of their camp, did he reach out to her, his roughened fingers grasping around her wrist.
“Bastard or not, you would do well to remember I am also a man, Phoebe.”
She turned to look at his hand on her wrist before turning her gaze back to his own.
“Why is that, Duncan?” she asked.
Slowly he rose to his feet, leaned into her, and kissed her full on the lips, hungry for the taste of her. Hesitantly, he pulled away from her, breaking their embrace, his eyes studying hers.
“Because no man can resist a beautiful woman standing naked before him, that’s why.”
Before she could question him, he let her go. Turning away from her, he walked quickly back to their camp. He knew if he didn’t, he would have taken this woman right then and there, to hell with the money he needed.
* * * * *
Phoebe stood there on the side of Sandy creek, her breath caught in her throat over the encounter she had just had with Duncan.
When she ventured down to the creek barely an hour ago, she had no thought that her captor would come looking for her. She certainly didn’t think he would sit on the side of the waterhole and watch her bathe. Or that his stare would hold on her as if she were his life’s breath. That he had, filled her with emotions she’d never felt before.
She had heard many stories about the emotions a man could create in a woman, emotions that would make her want to throw caution to the wind if it meant she could be held in his arms. Never had she known what such a thing felt like though...until this morning.
She wasn’t foolish though. She knew what would be thought of her actions when she left the cool water of the creek. Never before would she have dreamed of being so brazen in the company of any man, let alone a man she barely knew anything about. But for some reason, he was different, or at the least he made her feel different.
Despite having stated his reasons for having tracked her down, Phoebe doubted they were his only ones. His shared last name with her fiancé hadn’t been lost on her, still she doubted this MacAllester meant her any real harm. After all, back in the Inkerman district, MacAllester was nearly as common a surname as her own. Besides, Duncan shared no similarities with any of her fiancé’s family, not so far as she had seen anyway. He had a softness about him when he spoke to her, as if he was merely doing this out of duty and with no malice intended. Despite her reluctance to show this man any surrender, she found herself wanting to know about him, wanting to understand the man that he was.
She wasn’t a promiscuous girl by any means. She had gone to great lengths to ensure her purity was still intact. Never before had she allowed any man to see her in even the most modest forms of undress. This man, though, was different somehow. Phoebe wanted him to look upon her, to maybe even find her attractive...attractive enough that she might be able to change his mind and persuade him to let her go free.
Dressing herself, she wondered what this man must be thinking of her, having bared herself so physically to him only moments before. Reminding herself that he had done little more than turn away from her and return to their camp, she began to doubt he even noticed her state of undress. A man such as he, as handsome as he was, was no doubt accustomed to desperate women throwing themselves at him, paying him with their carnal affections. Maybe that was why he was still in this line of work. After all, what man would give up a job where women threw themselves at him constantly, their beds never going empty?
After she finished fastening her skirt, her high necked white blouse tucked in tightly, Phoebe hung her woollen coat over her forearm and began her slow, hesitant journey back toward the camp. She was slightly embarrassed by Duncan’s almost instant dismissal of her before. She needed to get away from this man, and soon, before he persuaded her that going back to her family would actually be a better idea than staying in his company.
She reached the clearing through the scrub, and her eyes settled on his figure standing near the horse fastening the saddlebags. He was a very solid build of a man, something she was sure had been obtained from his rather rough choice of lifestyle. He was a fair bit taller than her too, almost a full foot she would assume. He glanced over his shoulder at her, obviously sensing someone was behind him.
“We’ll be heading off shortly, Miss Porter,” he addressed her. “I suggest you get yourself ready because we shan’t be stopping for a while.”
Walking up behind him, she stopped only a few feet away. She wanted to reach out to him, to beg him not to return her, but she doubted he would hear her genuine cries for pity. If she was going to escape she would have to be smart about it.
“Please call me Phoebe,” she finally said, her tone so soft, her words barely able to be heard.
Duncan’s hands fell from the saddlebag he’d been fastening, and he turned to face her.
“It’s hardly appropriate for me to address you by your first name, Miss.”
She nodded. “I know, but I doubt there will be anyone out here who’s in earshot to give a damn.”
He laughed slightly at her rebuttal.
“We have to go,” he instructed, walking over to the fire and throwing a billy full of water on the smouldering wood.
* * * * *
Duncan pulled the horse to a stop several hours afte
r they left Sandy Creek.
“The horse needs a rest from this sweltering heat and some water,” he explained. “I’d hazard a guess that so would you in that outfit.”
Nodding her gratitude, Phoebe dismounted from the animal. Walking over to a fallen tree she took her coat off and threw it down, her hands on her back as she stretched.
“We’ll rest here for about an hour then we’ll keep moving,” he reassured her as he went to tend to the horse.
Turning back away from Duncan, she placed her boot covered foot on the fallen tree and unclipped her garter. She rolled down her black stockings, and revelled in the sudden coolness she felt from the removal of the thick fabric. Carefully she rolled down her other stocking until it rested on the rim of her boot. Finally she grabbed for the hem of her woollen skirts and began tucking them into the waistband.
“W-What are you doing?” he asked suddenly, not far behind her.
Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at him.
“I thought that would be quite obvious.”
When all she was greeted with was his silence, she turned to face him.
“It appears ladies’ English riding attire isn’t designed for these types of adventures, Duncan.” Noting the confusion on his face, Phoebe smiled. “Women’s riding attire is made from heavy woollen fabric, and I don’t think English dressmakers had Northern Australian climate in mind when they made them.”
She began unbuttoning her high shirt collar. “This heat appears far worse than I’ve grown accustomed to is all.”
He stared at her for a few minutes before turning away and heading back toward the saddlebags resting on the ground where the horse was tethered. After a few minutes he returned to her, and handed her a wrapped bundle of clothes.
“What’s this?” Phoebe asked confused as she took what he was offering her.
“You might find it more appropriate both for the adventure as you call it, and this infernal heat and humidity.”
Curious about what she had been handed, she unravelled the bundle to reveal a pair of men’s trousers and a thin cotton shirt.
