Lillian's Light Horseman (25 page)

Dearest William,

When you read this, I will be gone and all I can say is that I’m sorry.

I have come to realize that this life on the land is not what I remembered. It is a hard, sometimes brutal existence and one I fear that I’m not suited for.

I have thought long and hard about my decision to leave and believe that it’s for the best. I will miss you and the children desperately, but I can only think that my position as governess was of a temporary nature and that perhaps it’s best to leave before the children become too attached to me.

“Goddamn!” William cursed and swallowed the rest of his whiskey. The children were already attached. Fuck knows how he was going to explain Lillian’s sudden absence to them.
And what about me? Couldn’t she see that I’m attached to her and have been for over ten fucking years!

He looked at the dreaded letter and continued to read.

Please tell them that I love them. Perhaps you can make up a suitable story to explain my departure, one that will make my leaving easier for them to understand.

Thank you, William, for taking me into your home and for your kindness. You’ve made a fortunate life for yourself and your family. You are held in much regard in the community and I know that you will find someone who will make you and the children happy. Please know, that is all I have ever wanted for you—your happiness.

Yours with affection,

Lillian

William chuckled coldly. Lillian hadn’t even been able to bring herself to sign off her letter ‘with love’—that should tell him everything he needed to know. What he couldn’t understand was her sudden aversion to the outback lifestyle. At no time since she’d arrived had she indicated that she hated it. In fact, it had been the exact opposite.

He leaned back in his chair and stared unseeingly into the fireplace. He wondered if he could catch her. He wasn’t going to allow her to waltz back into his life then simply waltz back out with no reasonable explanation—at least no explanation that he was prepared to accept. According to Mrs. Thompson, Lillian had slipped out, unnoticed, in the middle of the previous night. He’d spoken to some of the men and ascertained that the docile mare that Lillian had ridden to his rescue was missing from the stables. He didn’t care about the loss of the horse. If anything, he was relieved that she was not on foot and had a decent animal at her disposal. The fact that she was alone and in unfamiliar countryside riddled him with anxiety. Anything could happen to a woman traveling unaccompanied, particularly a woman as beautiful and alluring as Lillian.

Even through his hurt and fury, he was terrified for her safety. Where she planned to go, he had no idea. Insofar as he was aware, she had no connections in Australia beyond the ones that she’d made since her return. Then again, she could have met someone in her travels to whom she’d reached out for help—a man perhaps, willing to assist a damsel in distress.

He cursed again, shot up from his chair and started pacing his study. She was
his
, damn it, and the thought of another man taking her and touching her made his blood boil with rage. The only problem was she’d been straightforward in her explanation for leaving. She hadn’t allowed much room for conjecture.

Pain tightened his chest and he slumped his shoulders. Perhaps he shouldn’t go after her. He recognized that he was being self-serving in his need to reclaim her. Lillian had made her decision and obviously, her future plans didn’t include him. He’d set himself up for this moment, risked his heart, his soul and his very sanity just for the chance of having her in his life again—for the chance of
keeping
her!

He set his mouth into a grim line when he recalled the last words of her letter. She actually thought that someone else could make him happy and she
hoped
for it? How could she be so fucking cold-hearted? Did she not see that she was the
only
woman for him?

He leaned his elbows on the desk and grasped his hair in both hands, desperation gripping him with iron-like tenacity. Never could he remember feeling so impotent and out of control. The sensation terrified him.

Chapter Thirty

Lillian had been riding a long time, with a stop for three hours in the early morning to water her horse and attempt a fitful sleep. Not far into her swift departure she’d realized that she didn’t even know her horse’s name, so she’d taken to calling her Whinny, after the soft whinnying sounds the animal made.

Lillian stretched and twisted in the saddle. She was stiff and sore and knew that she would have to stop soon to rest again. She frowned and checked her watch. It was imperative that she put as much distance between herself and Mulga Creek as she could. She was worried that William would come after her and she had to avoid that at all costs. Common sense told her that William would have a very difficult time catching up with her, considering that she had at least a ten-hour head start on him and he had no idea in which direction she was traveling. The fear still nagged at her, however, and had her looking over her shoulder every five minutes.

Scanning the horizon, she checked her watch again and decided that she’d continue for another hour then rest. Whinny was walking sedately now. She hadn’t wanted to tire the mare too much so she’d slowed to a trot half an hour after they’d left the property and, taking into consideration the break they’d had in the early morning, she was confident that the horse was not overtaxed.

Her mind wandered to George Dawson’s shocking and life-changing revelation. She was still finding it difficult to believe that William could be so callous and indiscreet with his affections. And lying to her about it was the ultimate betrayal. She’d asked him not three nights ago about his relationship with Margaret Dawson and he’d sworn that they were just acquaintances. Tears blurred her vision and she swiped angrily at them. She’d cried far too much. She was surprised she had any tears left to spill. The pain and hurt were so raw and so deep that she doubted she would ever recover. It was a physical ache in her chest that sharpened and drilled deeper whenever she thought about William. Her only distraction was to focus on her immediate situation and find her way to a safe haven—wherever that may be.

George Dawson had been oddly well prepared and had planned for Lillian’s departure with care. It had been a relief, yet also disturbing, knowing that the man had been scheming to have Lillian removed in order to make way for his pregnant daughter. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed. His priority would obviously be Margaret and ensuring that she was not disrespected or dishonored any further, but it was still unsettling. When Lillian had asked George Dawson how far along Margaret was in her pregnancy, he had proclaimed that it was unimportant—either unable or unwilling to tell her. It
was
important to Lillian, however, for it would tell her
exactly
when William had been intimate with the other woman. There was, of course, the possibility that George Dawson had been lying to her, but she couldn’t believe that a father would risk the reputation of his daughter and for what gain? Lillian had racked her brains and couldn’t come up with any reason as to why the man would lie about something so serious. And her own observations of William and Margaret Dawson and William’s own admission regarding his relationship with Mary Simpson did nothing but lend credence to the situation. William was obviously very…liberal with his favors and she and Margaret Dawson were just two in what was quite probably a very long list. She just prayed to God that she herself had not fallen pregnant.
That
possibility was too terrifying to consider and she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

William would have returned and found her letter by now. She had worded the missive carefully, not wanting to give anything away as to the true reason for her leaving. She’d hoped to give the impression that she was leaving because she wanted to, with the underlying message that she didn’t love him, for she’d not been sure that William would have accepted anything less. Lillian would not be the reason that Margaret Dawson became an unwed mother and besides, she knew that William would act honorably. Lillian just wanted to make the situation easier for him by eliminating herself from the equation and thereby limiting William’s assured guilt. She had no doubt that when he was told about the baby, William would marry Margaret immediately. Even after discovering, as she had, his indiscretion, she knew deep down that he was a good man who would do the right thing.

She checked her watch, scanned her surroundings and decided that she would stop to rest. She dismounted and collected her belongings from the saddlebags. She’d packed food and water for herself and her horse. The rest of her possessions were meager. She’d only taken what she could pack into her carpetbag, which was a change of clothing, some warmer articles for the cool nights and her personal items. She’d put her money into a purse, which was hidden in a pocket of her skirt. She dearly wished that she had trousers to wear. It would make horse riding so much more comfortable. As it was, she’d chosen a loose skirt with enough fabric to allow freedom for movement.

She organized a food bag for Whinny and stood for a moment stroking the mare’s nose and taking comfort from her soft snuffling. She’d initially balked when George Dawson had suggested that she take a horse. She definitely hadn’t wanted to steal from William, but George had been insistent. He had wanted to ensure that she made enough headway before William discovered her departure and George had promised to have the horse returned. It hadn’t taken her long to agree. She understood that it would be dangerous and stupid to attempt to leave on foot and taking a horse was her only other option.

As part of Dawson’s plan, she was due to meet John Steele in one hour, at three o’clock. Hopefully he’d be waiting for her at the fork in the road, as George Dawson had informed her. The whole scheme had seemed ludicrous at first, but she’d seen no other option and she’d been particularly concerned about traveling with a relatively unfamiliar gentleman. However, Dawson had quite rightly pointed out, it was preferable than her traveling unaccompanied. After so many hours of riding alone and in unfamiliar territory, she was immensely relieved that she had agreed. At least John Steele was not a complete stranger and she felt that she knew him, if only a little. She had wondered at George’s decision to involve him, but she assumed they were friends and hadn’t questioned it. She was relieved to have assistance from any source.

She took George Dawson’s hand-drawn map out of her pocket and the accompanying compass then checked her bearings. She was confident that she was heading in the correct direction and she gauged that her timing was on track, give or take some minutes either side of three o’clock. Their ultimate destination was Byrock, which was some distance from her current location. George had worried that William would seek her out at Coolabah train station and possibly intercept her. Whereas he wouldn’t expect that she would travel all the way to Byrock, particularly unaccompanied, as he assumed her to be.

She repacked the saddlebags and mounted Whinny, wincing when her sore muscles settled into the curve of the horse’s back. She checked her compass once again, turned Whinny’s head in a northeasterly direction and kicked her into a trot.

Chapter Thirty-One

William was convinced that he was slowly going insane. He was pacing his study relentlessly, not allowing anyone in, speaking to no one, as powerful emotions erupted and warred within him. He vacillated between feelings of hatred, love, betrayal and despair, until he was left feeling dazed and disoriented. He’d tried, but he couldn’t reconcile Lillian’s actions with what he was sure were her true feelings. He was convinced that she still loved him. He’d recalled every moment that they’d spent together since her return. Every word spoken and every gesture made. He’d tortured himself with visions of her underneath him, moaning and crying out in ecstasy while he’d thrust into her or pleasured her with his fingers and tongue. He remembered vividly when she’d taken his cock into her mouth, how she’d opened her lips and sucked him in, hesitant with her tongue as she had tasted him for the first time. Her innocence and sweetness had been disarming, as had her willingness and enthusiasm to please him. And when she’d told him that she wanted to taste him, to swallow his essence, it had been his undoing.

He propped both hands on the mantelpiece and stared into the dying embers of the fire, thinking furiously.
What happened between when I left three days ago and now?
Did something occur to prompt Lillian to leave, other than what she states in her letter?
He just couldn’t fathom her one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn around. Perhaps Mrs. Thompson could tell him something. He’d only spoken to her briefly, had just barked a couple of questions regarding what she knew about Lillian leaving and had scarcely given the woman time to tell him anything else.

He had to find Mrs. Thompson and question her further. He raced to the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges in his haste to open it.

He found his housekeeper sitting at the kitchen table, her head cradled in her hands. Guilt assailed him. He hadn’t considered how much she cared for Lillian and how she would also feel her loss. He entered quietly and placed a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. She startled and looked up at him with watery eyes.

“William.” She struggled to stand but he stayed her, keeping his hand on her shoulder and pressing her gently back into her chair. He took a seat opposite and tried to control his impatience.

“Millie,” he spoke softly. “Can you think of anything that happened to Lillian while I was away mustering? Anything that would precipitate her leaving?”

She sighed heavily and wiped her eyes. “I can’t understand it. She seemed so happy here and she loved the children. She enjoyed gardening. Did you know that?”