by Tessa Bowen
It was the assignment for a true adventurer, for it seemed John Jackson had wandered off to a very desolate part of the world. He’d set up camp deep in the rugged peaks of the Brindabella Mountain Range where he was wrangling Brumbies, a breed of feral horse that ran wild in the south-eastern part of Australia. He was after one Brumby in particular—a rare silver horse that had been observed only from afar. It was said this horse ran like lightning. Some out-of-his-mind French billionaire thought it would be amusing to capture this animal and turn him into a race horse. If anyone could do it, John Jackson could. He hadn’t done it yet, it seemed—for two months had passed already.
“Come on Trev, you have to go with her,” Isabel needled. “You’re the only one who can take her that deep into the country. I love seeing you fly your plane. In fact, it really turns me on. I’ll go with you, of course. It will be an exciting field trip.”
She tugged at his sleeve and blinked her sooty lashes at him. She was sucking up nicely. He’d keep this going for as long as he could. She looked quite fetching in her yellow raincoat and rubber boots as they trudged through the maze together. He wondered what she was wearing underneath. One thing she was wearing for certain under there was his baby. The little bump that was her middle protruded like a small pumpkin against the fabric of her slicker.
“Abigail is quite capable of chartering a private plane. She doesn’t need us to go traipsing after her husband in the wilds of bloody New South Wales.”
“She does though. You can’t send a woman out there alone. I saw it on the map—it’s like nothingness and more nothingness. She’ll die of thirst out there.”
“It’s not exactly the Outback. It’s quite lush this time of year.”
The Duke leaned in and tried to steal a kiss from his wife but she stepped away with a little harrumph.
“You’re quite fired up about this, aren’t you? I think you want to make sure she gets her husband back so she doesn’t steal yours, is that it?” he teased.
Izzy pushed at her husband when he came for her again. “No, that’s not it. I really care about the Baroness. We’re friends now.”
“Yes,” the Duke purred. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.”
“You’re such a creep! Don’t you want love to conquer all?”
“She does love him, doesn’t she? I could see it in her eyes when she talked about him last night at dinner. She never loved me like that…”
“Well, don’t friggin’ cry about it.”
“The old girl is so changed,” the Duke went on softly. “She’s wearing her hair down. I’d forgotten how…voluminous it is. She had wild hair when we were children, but her mother saw to it that no one knew.”
“Yeah,” the young Duchess sighed glumly. “She’s never looked prettier.”
“Quite right—and the extra weight looks very nice on her. Well, it’s not really extra is it—it’s just the right amount.”
Izzy punched him in the arm. “Ok, that’s enough! Shut it or I’ll put a sock in your mouth, fancy pants.”
“I couldn’t believe it when she ate all her pudding and asked for more,” Trevor chuckled. “Her stint in America has done her good. She is a much healthier version of herself.”
“Their kid is sure adorable. Do you think our kid will be as cute?”
“Naturally, darling—is it just me, or does the baby sort of…well…cluck?”
“She quacks,” Izzy said simply. “That’s why they call her Ducky.”
The Duke wrinkled his nose. “Ducky isn’t a proper name for a young lady. I mean how will she be introduced at balls? Miss Ducky?”
“I don’t think they have balls in Montana.”
“And a good thing too.”
They turned around a bend in the tall hedgerow and the Duke hurried to catch up with his petite wife. Her little legs certainly moved at a good clip when she was after something.
“I’d like to give that husband of hers a piece of my mind.”
“Yeah, for leaving her in the lurch like that—pretty crappy.”
“You left me in the lurch once.”
“I was heartbroken,” she said. “You dumped me, remember?”
“I did not dump you. Anyway, we’re not talking about us.”
“I guess John Jackson has some jealousy issues.”
“Well, he better get used to it. Abigail is an extremely beautiful woman.”
Izzy whirled on him with fire in her dark eyes. “No duh. Oh, and by the way, John Jackson is like super-duper hot. All the girls think so.”
Trevor made a prune face. “Hotter than me?”
Izzy smiled smugly. “Well, he’s ten years younger, isn’t he?”
“You rotten little minx.”
“You’re precious Baroness landed herself a nice young buck.”
“Nice young buck, is he?” Trevor fumed. “I could teach him a thing or two.”
“You’re just mad he wouldn’t sell you one of his precious horses.”
It was Isabel who had to hurry to keep up with her husband’s long gait now.
“I’ll get one of those bloody Mustangs for my stables if it’s the last thing I do.”
“You and your silly horse collection.”
“There is nothing silly about collecting horse flesh,” the Duke told his wife.
“Why don’t you acquiiiiiire a husband for your old girlfriend and then we can move on with our lives!”
The Duke stopped up short and turned on his furious wife. “You are still threatened by her, aren’t you?”
Isabel stared at the ground and nodded. “She’s so much prettier than me and so much…taller.”
Trevor gathered up his wife in his arms. “Nonsense, darling.”
“You don’t think so? Her legs go on forever and ever.”
The Duke scattered kisses all over his Duchess’s face. “They’re horrible spider legs. I love your fairy legs, my darling. And of course I’ll go get Abigail’s husband—I’ll leave tomorrow. I was only having you on so you’d beg in that cute way that I so adore.”
She was temporarily distracted by her husband’s warm mouth, but it didn’t take long for the words to sink in. She bunched the front of his coat in her fists. “Wait, you mean…you were planning on going all along.”
“Of course, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. The woman is in distress…”
“Gentlemanly!” she pushed away from him with all her might. “What’s gentlemanly about letting your pregnant wife come outside in the rain in nothing but this!”
She yanked her raincoat open like a good little flasher to reveal the prize hiding beneath. She wore the tiniest of schoolgirl skirts and a black lace bra. He noticed the neatly turned over kneesocks popping out of the top of her rubber boots.
Trevor felt his face and throat flame with a lustful fire, just as his trousers went all tight. “What the bloody hell are you wearing that outfit for, Isabel? You know what it does to me.”
“Yeah, I know—it makes you stroke out.”
Trevor studied his wife’s delicate form, now altered by her slightly swollen paunch and enticingly ripened breasts. “You want to kill me then?”
“No, I was trying to seduce you so that I could get my way in this.”
“Seduce away, Sweet Girl.”
When she wrapped herself back in the coat, the Duke made a childish sound of disappointment, like a boy who has just had his treat stolen from him.
“Well, now there’s no point, is there? You were going to go all along.”
“Yes, but can’t we just play like I’m resisting?” he asked petulantly.
“No!” she shouted at him. “And I’m going with you. There’s no way you’re leaving me home.”
“Isabel, you can’t go—you’re quite pregnant.”
“Yeah, and I probably look ridiculous in this get up—like I swallowed a friggin’ cantaloupe.”
“Not at all, you are quite ravishing in fact. Your breasts are delicious. And so is th
e rest of you. Give us another look.”
“Weirdo pervert!” she hollered and took off running.
The Duke went after her, knowing just what game they were playing at now. This was the one where he chased her through the maze, all the way to the swirly bit of shrubbery where there was a nice stone wall for her to prop herself against while he apologized on his knees (with his face buried between her legs of course).
Chapter Twenty-one
Brindabella Mountain Range, Australia
“I can’t bloody believe you two talked me into this fool’s errand,” the Duke griped as he piloted the rickety Cessna. “This tin can isn’t at all like my plane back home.”
“Come on, Trev,” Izzy nettled. “Pick up the pace.”
“My pace is just fine,” the Duke answered tightly. “Let me concentrate will you—this is the first time I’ve flown with an infant on board. And a pregnant woman at that. I must be insane,” he added under his breath.
“I’ll be an unwed pregnant woman if you don’t land this thing soon because I’ll divorce you—got it? Put this friggin’ bird on the ground already. I’m seriously going to hurl.”
“Stop heckling me, you infuriating baggage!”
“You’re doing just fine, Trevor,” The Baroness assured him. “Ducky enjoys being airborne.”
The Baroness worried her lip, wondering if she would have been better off hiring a local pilot from Canberra. She was distracted from her worries when she spotted the expansive mountain ridge looming in the distance. It stretched on and on—a never-ending sweep of blue under an even bluer sky. The plane dipped low, heading into a large valley that opened up between the cliffs.
“Wow, Australia is pretty,” Isabel breathed. “See the river running through the valley—and the wildflowers growing alongside it.”
“Yes, the landscape is breathtaking,” Abigail agreed. “It’s not unlike Montana—no wonder he came here.”
“I believe that flower is the Mountain Shaggy Pea,” Trevor remarked, adjusting a few dials on the control panel. “Blooms in summer.”
The Baroness clutched Ducky tight. Her heart skipped a beat as she sensed they were getting nearer and nearer to her husband. Her eyes scanned the wide open meadow, obviously Trevor planned on landing there. No sign of her husband just yet, but she did make out a crude dwelling and a large fenced-in area up ahead.
“Holy crap, you guys—look out there!”
A mob of wild horses came racing over the face of the cliff. The man driving them appeared as a mounted god and rode like lightning itself astride a silver horse. He cracked a whip over his head and the herd headed straight toward the open grassland in an awe-inspiring display of speed and strength.
“It’s him!” the Baroness cried out, squeezing Daphne so hard that she let out an exclaimed quack!
The pack of brumbies spread wide as they galloped into the valley, John Jackson cut a path between them, bending low over his steed.
The two women pressed their noses to the glass.
“He’s so masterful,” the Baroness sighed.
“It’s like a scene in a movie,” Izzy sighed back.
The Duke gave a sniff. “Yes, well—he’s a very accomplished horseman, even if he is remiss in his parenting.”
The plane hovered low enough now that John noticed them. He slowed his horse and tipped his head to the sky. His striking blue eyes scorched through the metal of the plane, delving straight to the very center of Abigail’s being. She craned her neck to watch him direct the band of Brumbies into the paddock. With another crack of his whip, they funneled neatly into the enclosure and he closed the gate behind them, turning in his saddle to watch the plane make its descent and landing.
The next few moments were a blur. Abigail hardly felt her legs as she allowed Trevor to hand her out of the plane. She saw John Jackson up ahead, still sitting on his horse as they made their way toward him. He looked thinner, his hair longer and decidedly windblown. His handsome face was covered in a week’s growth of beard. He didn’t look surprised or angry by their presence—just annoyed.
Trevor was the first one to break the ice. He wrinkled his nose at the dilapidated cabin. “Love what you’ve done with the place—aren’t you going to invite us in? We could all use a good cup of tea.”
John’s features formed into a dangerous scowl. He stared Trevor down from that tall silver horse. Bringing the Duke as her escort was definitely tweaking the tiger’s tail, but it was too late to turn back now.
If Trevor makes one more snippy remark, there will be hell to pay.
She’d employ Daphne to butter him up. After all, what were babies good for, if not for pacifying their angry papas? She propped up the infant. With a little assistance, Ducky raised her head and pointed at her father, spreading her gummy mouth wide in greeting. She cheeped in recognition and John was off his horse in two seconds. He plucked the baby from the Baroness’s arms and held her high in the air, smiling up at her.
Abigail’s heart sang with hope at the tender scene. “She holds her head up now and rolls over like a champion,” she told him proudly.
John lifted the little girl’s eyelet frock and blew noisy bubbles on her belly, sending Ducky into a fit of gurgling hysterics. Father and daughter gazed at each other soulfully for a long moment then he brought her close again, this time for a kiss. Ducky hiccupped and wrinkled her face up, apparently tickled by the roughness of his whiskers.
He handed the baby back to Abigail. All softness and light fled his features, replaced by the hard mask she’d seen that last day at the ranch.
My, but the man has as many faces as he does moods.
“Using the kid was a nasty trick,” he said low.
“I…didn’t do it to be nasty.”
“I can’t believe you flew in that piece of shit with her.”
“I didn’t want to leave her.”
He chucked his chin at Isabel. “And you’re in a family way—what were you thinking?” Then he turned his wrath on Trevor. “What the hell is the matter with you, Barrington—how could you fly them in that plane?”
“There wasn’t a better one available,” the Duke defended. “And I am an excellent pilot. Besides, I was forced into it by these two harridans.”
“You need to get a better handle on your women.”
“If you have any tips, please do let me in on them,” Trevor shot back snidely. “You seem to be an expert with women. I’m sure that’s why we’re here in the first place.”
“Be nice, Trev,” Izzy scolded.
The Duke began again, holding up his hands. He tried to keep his voice free of sarcasm. “Don’t take offense—we are here for the good of your family.”
A muscle flexed in John’s lean jaw as he addressed his estranged wife. “You really thought bringing him here was a good idea?”
“I needed a chaperone, he was the best candidate for the job—the only candidate.”
“A chaperone—that’s what you’re calling him these days, huh?”
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to anger you further.”
Just then the Brumby reared up and whinnied. The horse was threatening enough, but raised up on two legs, it was downright terrifying. The Duke snatched his wife and pushed her behind him.
“Get back, Abigail,” the two men said in unison.
The rumble John let loose was more fear-provoking than the hostile puffs of the agitated animal. He thumbed his own chest. “I tell her to get back, not you.”
“Not this again, old boy—I mean really.”
“This isn’t a joke, you closet queen.”
“It certainly isn’t—you left your wife and daughter and ran off to play cowboy. No one is laughing here.”
John lunged forward and smacked the Duke on his cheek with an open palm.
Trevor covered his stinging face with his own palm. “Did you just…slap me, sir?”
“You’re not man enough to punch,” John snarled.
Abigail bit
down hard on her lip, fearing there was worse to come, while Izzy cracked a joke. “Poor Trev, I already slapped him once today because he got fresh.”
The Baroness was relieved to see the murderous expression on her husband’s face give way to simple male arrogance.
“Oh, that’s right—aren’t you the Fruitcake Fisticuffs Champion? I better watch myself.”
“Do your bloody duty to your wife and child!”
John turned from the irate aristocrat and snatched the horse’s reins, calming the animal with a firm tug and a few whispered words. “Why don’t you pack up your little tea party and get the hell out of here.” He mounted the horse and looked down at Isabel. “How can you run with that idiot?”
The Duchess gave a smile and a shrug. “I fell in love with an English fruitcake. I think we have that in common, don’t we? Although the Baroness isn’t really a fruitcake, she’s like one of those meringue thingeeze.”
Abigail’s face burned bright red. His gaze was inscrutable. Ducky started to churn in her arms, wanting to be closer to her daddy. The horse sidestepped and let out an ominous grunt.
“Look, I’m at work here. You people ever heard of it? This horse has to run—he’s champing at the bit.”
“The Silver Brumby,” Trevor uttered in fascination as the sun glinted off the horse’s rare pale coat.
“He is a magnificent beast,” the Baroness chimed in.
“Did you really come all the way out here to talk about horses?”
“No, I came to talk about…us.”
The horse rose up on its hind legs again and they all took a step back.
“I can’t deal with you now—I’ve got to exorcise the demon from this beast.”
“You can’t just keep leaving.” the Baroness objected.
John was off in a flash, galloping away from them in a clap of thunder.
She finally lost her temper and hollered after him. “What about your bloody demon!”
“Well, there’s no catching up with him now,” Trevor commented. “We’ll just have to stay here and wait for his return.”
