Daring Masquerade (12 page)

Bracken ferns covered the flats. Lyre birds mimicked other bird cries. So many colorful parrots fluttering around, the beauty of a rainbow paled into insignificance. She felt close to Gil on the mountainous spurs. Up near the roof of the sky, the solitude lessened her pain and loss. His spirit could wander free, unburdened by the grief and pain of war.

Snow gums stood guard over the secret places she discovered, and a shy kangaroo family listened to her weep for the tormented soul of her brother. The ground hugging ferns and alpine grasses were anointed with copious tears.

No one came near the place, exactly the way she liked it. Numerous frogs living in the reedy shallows of the creek serenaded each other at night. The mopokes, while spooky sounding in the Australian bush at night, did not frighten her. Even the eerie cry of a mountain dingo calling for its mate did not disturb her.

Chapter Seven

"I tell you, Ross, there's someone up at the outstation."

"Rubbish, Jack."

"Hughie saw smoke coming from there one day last week while he was rabbiting."

"His eyes aren't very good. He's suffering from imagination, most likely."

They had returned from the drive yesterday afternoon. He had received a good price for the cattle, and except for what happened to Gilbert and the shenanigans with Harry, it had been an uneventful trip. Why did he feel so restless?

"I miss young Harry," Jack mused, "and poor Gilbert. They were a rum pair, those two."

"I'm sorry about Gilbert, but I was glad to see the last of Harry. She was a danger to herself and anyone who came within a mile radius of her." Ross heard the lie falling from his mouth. He did miss her. It infuriated him to think she had stormed past the wall he erected around his emotions. Wild, spirited Harry. How would a maiden-aunt cope with such a firebrand?

"Jack." Ross stared into his uncle's eyes. "I have to go back."

"I know, boy."

"The war is going badly, the English are taking a terrible hammering, whole battalions virtually wiped out. My shoulder has healed up now. I'm duty bound to volunteer. A man would be a coward if he didn't."

"I've watched you wrestling with your conscience, son. My opinion is you've done your share. Your brother's dead and you've been wounded. The Calverts have given enough to the war effort."

"If the battalion take heavy casualties in France and lose field officers, the army will probably call me back anyway. I've never been officially boarded out. Indefinite convalescent leave, they said."

"You've done your share," the old man maintained stubbornly. "Wait and see what happens."

"I don't want to leave here, you know I don't." Ross clenched his fist. "But I'm duty bound to fight for the Empire."

"Stuff and nonsense," Jack shot back. "You're a fine man. I've known you since babyhood. I've seen you agonizing over the casualty lists, but if something happens to you the Calvert line will die out. And for what?"

"For God's sake. After what Virginia did, I could never trust another woman."

"I'd even welcome her into the family," Jack said. "On bended knee if necessary, if she'd give you an heir."

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Useless arguing with Jack once he got an idea fixed in his head. He could be as stubborn as a mule.

"Do you want me to go up and check on the smoke?" Jack asked.

He realized the old man wanted to stop their argument developing any further. "No, I'll go," he decided on the spur of the moment. "I don't know why, but I feel restless. A bit of mountain solitude is what I need to clear my head. I might even stay overnight."

If he went back to the army, Jack would keep things going as he did before.
I'll
get him to
move into the main homestead with Mrs. Bates.
Jack liked to be independent, but if he thought the old housekeeper needed him, he would agree.

He rode easily in the saddle and the majestic snow gums and mountain ash grew more profusely as he neared the high country. A plume of smoke drifted skywards from the outstation. Bloody swagmen. I don't mind them camping out up there if they'd only ask permission first.

An eagle soaring overhead. It dived and disappeared behind the mountain, obviously homing in on some prey.

By the time he arrived at the outstation, annoyance turned to rage. Some swagman actually had the gall to use his hut. Of all the damn cheek.

He dismounted. Tethering his horse under a tree, he strode into the hut. It looked clean and tidy, neater than he had left it. No personal belongings lay around, just a bed roll in the corner. Even using my bloody bed.

Checking the men's quarters and the kitchen proved fruitless. Nothing to be seen there. He wandered around but found no one. Finally, he headed towards the creek. It was a hot day. Maybe the cheeky bugger had decided to have a swim.

He spied a blanket laid out on the sand with a towel dropped carelessly in the middle and heard someone splashing about in the water.

I'll scare the hell out of him. He hid behind a bush. Impossible to see the culprit in the water from here, but the moment he set foot on the blanket he would know. Finally, he saw scattered showers of yellow sand being kicked up into the air, and got ready to pounce.

"This is private property," he snarled.
 
The next lot of words jammed in his throat.

Harry! Stark naked! Her creamy breasts, glistening with water, were peaked with rose-tipped nipples, and a triangle of damp curls nestled between her thighs. There was a split second of silence.

"Ross!"

"Here." He picked up the towel and threw it at her. "Cover yourself, for God's sake."

She snatched it up and with trembling fingers wrapped it around her body.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He attacked straight away, to hide the effects such an exquisite little body had on his libido.

"I didn't go to Auntie Bertha's. I came straight here."

"That's obvious."

He clenched his fists in his pockets. Did she know how she affected him?

"I wanted to come here for a while so I could grieve for Gil on my own."

"You were supposed to go to your aunt. I put you on the bloody train."

"Please, don't be angry with me." Her lips trembled.

Angry? His whole body vibrated with rage. "Get dressed. You're going to Benalla whether you like it or not."

"I won't."

"By God you will." He reached out and gripped her shoulder. "You will." He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. "You hear me?"

He shoved her away. She tripped, and as he made a grab to save her, the towel slithered to the ground.

Harry watched Ross' eyes smolder with desire, his nostrils flared and his teeth gnawed his bottom lip.

Now or never. She threw caution to the winds. If she could make Ross desire her, he wouldn't send her away. She mustered every ounce of courage. "You don't find me pleasing?" Standing mere inches away from him, she made no move to retrieve the towel. The hot sun warmed her naked skin, but inwardly, flames engulfed her body.

Her gaze remained fixed on him. His eyes darkened to black. His whole body trembled.

"Oh, God," he groaned. "You'd try the patience of a saint."

He dragged her into his arms and crushed her body to him, capturing her mouth in a desperate, wanting kiss. His tongue forced her lips apart, staking a claim on the moistness within, thrusting, probing, tasting and still wanting more.

His knee moved between her thighs. His hand went to cup her breast and she gasped with shocked delight as his fingers massaged her nipple. When his mouth followed, heated excitement swirled through her. The stubble of his beard grazed her soft skin but she didn't care, just buried her hands in his thick, luxurious hair and arched into his body.

She had never been kissed with passion by a man before, but wasn't afraid of Ross. He lowered her onto the blanket and without lifting his mouth from her breast, suckled the damp, aroused flesh.

"God, Harry. I should be flogged for this."

He sighed, a soft, drawn out sound of wanting that made her forget her inhibitions. She frantically worked at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his hot skin rasping against hers. She put her lips to the puckered redness of the ugly, deep scar gouged into his shoulder. Never had she known anything like the hot, exquisite pain of her ripening womanhood as he worked her with his fingers, touching, caressing, drawing back then caressing her again until she became a trembling mass of need.

Her fingers went to his waistband. They trembled so much he impatiently brushed her hand away and wriggled out of his pants. He was naked now, hard, throbbing and fully aroused. She noticed all this in the split second before he slipped between her thighs.

She was hot, moist and convulsing in the depth of her feminine recess. Her need for him so great now she barely felt the pain as he stormed through the barrier protecting her virginity.

He cried out her name as his lovemaking reached its final, earth shattering crescendo.

"I love you, Ross." Firecrackers exploded inside her head, and she closed her eyes as the explosion threatened to blind her.

"My God, what have I done?"

He rolled away, jackknifed to his feet and reached for his pants while she still lay on the blanket unable to move. He dressed in quick, jerky movements.

"I'm sorry." He squatted down beside her, running his fingers along her cheek. "Hell." He rummaged his fingers through his hair. "I ought to be horsewhipped." He gave her a neatly folded handkerchief. When she gave it back to him, stained with the blood of her lost virginity, his face turned a sickly gray color and a pulse convulsed in his jaw.

"Get dressed."

He reached down and handed over her clothes, turning his back as she struggled into them.

"I need to have my bloody head read," he growled.

She loved him, she knew beyond doubt now. He didn't love her, probably didn't even like her. Misery washed over her. What she had thought the most wonderful thing to ever happen to her, obviously meant little more to him than assuaging his male need. A decent, upright man like him would be consumed with guilt, but she needed more from him. Much more. Oh, Gil, forgive me for thinking of myself right now.

Ross cursed to himself as he stood staring straight ahead. He had completely lost control. Harry goaded him beyond endurance, flaunting her exquisite little body right under his nose, and he succumbed to the temptation. Her brother was recently dead. He felt absolutely despicable. Poor little Harry, demented with grief and he had behaved like a rutting stallion.

Shame overwhelmed him for the cavalier way in which he took her virginity, like a schoolboy having his first sexual encounter with a woman. Worst of all, he felt little for her except sheer, craven lust. She had cried out her love for him. Tried to show how much she cared by letting him use her body. In her innocence thinking this would erase the bitterness from his heart. It hadn't. It still laid there, a poison chalice spilling out just a little at a time, all the more corrosive because of how long it had dwelled within him.

The decent thing to do was offer marriage. In fact, he couldn't do anything else under the circumstances, but make the arrangements as soon as possible. Harry did not know it, but she was being short-changed. She would get a husband to care for her. Materially she'd want for nothing, but there would be no love. He was incapable of giving it to her because of Virginia. Inwardly he wept because she deserved more than this. Brave, reckless Harry had gambled and lost.

"Are you decent?" he asked finally.

"Yes."

He turned around to face her.

"Don't blame yourself." She clutched at his hand. "It was my fault. I thought if you, well…"

"I know what you thought." Bitterness filled his soul. Remorse overwhelmed him for what he had done. "It didn't work, though. Physically I enjoyed what we shared. Emotionally, I think I'm dead."

"Oh, Ross," she whispered.

He gazed into her troubled eyes. Pain constricted his heart because he couldn't give her what she needed.

"As soon as I can make the arrangements, we'll get married, but Harry, don't expect too much from me. It will only make things harder for you."

"You don't have to offer marriage," she said in a hurt little voice as she walked beside him. "If you'd rather not."

"For God's sake. I might have given you a child."

"A baby?" She patted her stomach. "Do you think so?"

"It's possible."

"We could wait and see, if you like."

"There's no time. We'll get married. I owe you that much at least. It won't be an easy life with me, though."

Her eyes widened, her lips trembled.

"I don't mean I'll beat you up, but I'm hot tempered. I get into black moods and need to be alone. God, Harry, you deserve better than what I can offer."

"I'll take my chances, as long as you don't betray me with another woman. I couldn't forgive that."

"I wouldn't expect you to, but it won't happen. If I see you with another man, I'll kill him, so help me."

"There's only two men I'll ever love," she said fiercely. "One of them is dead."

He felt the warmth drain from his face at her impassioned words. He reached out and stroked her cheek with a slim, work-roughened finger.

"Hopefully, I'll be able to give you a child to love. If we have a son, you can name him Gilbert."

A flare of hope ignited her eyes. She refused to believe the truth, but he couldn't feel anything for her.

"Now, let's get back to the hut and have mug of tea." He forced normality to his tone.

After their tea, Ross went to catch some rabbits. She squatted near the fire and started preparing a damper. She would cook potatoes in their jackets once the coals burned down.

He returned half an hour later, carrying a pair of rabbits already skinned and gutted. They sat under a tree without speaking for a time.

"We'll need to see your aunt," he said.

"What for?"

"You're under twenty-one. We need her consent. You don't think she'd withhold it?"