The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (57 page)

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Authors: Emma Darcy

BOOK: The Collector's Edition Volume 1
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W
HERE did it begin, the soaring sense of true togetherness?
With the first kiss?
The restraint of it?
He cupped her face, a faint quiver in the long, warm fingers stroking the soft skin of her cheeks, his eyes dark whirlpools drawing her down the years to long ago, needing to reach back for the feeling that had once been theirs. He kissed her as though she was infinitely precious, with slow, exquisite tenderness, almost fearful that something fragile might be dislodged or bruised or tarnished if he didn’t take the greatest care, the first kiss of another life, knowing what had been lost. Lost—not devalued or wilfully tossed away or forgotten.
The grieving for it was in their mouths, the yearning for it, the hope for it, the tentative seeking for it. A boy and girl who’d created their own world, a mixture of reality and dreams of tomorrow that had always carried the certainty of sharing it, inconceivable for them not to, somehow, some way... Beth and Jamie.
Was tomorrow here at last for them? Could it be?
They hugged as they had once hugged in promising themselves to each other, her arms tightly around his waist, not wanting to let go, afraid of the unknown without him, her head on his shoulder, fighting the tears in her eyes because she had to be brave, his cheek rubbing against her hair, comforting, loving, and the memory of the words he’d spoken whispering through her mind.
“I’ll come to you, Beth. As soon as I can I’ll come to you. And one day there’ll be nothing to part us. Ever again.”
One day...
He was with her now, remembering, though this time he moved his mouth over her hair, trailing warm kisses, and his body was that of a man, fully grown and aroused with wanting the woman she had become, wanting the intimacy adults knew, the physical bonding that took them beyond the innocence of childhood and into the reality of meeting each other on this first night of their future.
So strange, the sense of a journey of discovery as they shed their clothes, like a slow peeling away of layers of protection, letting go the armour in more than a physical sense, keenly conscious of who they were to each other now and laying themselves bare to the vision of something more than either of them.
Immaterial that they had been naked together only two nights ago. This was a different experience. The revelation that there had been no betrayal from either of them injected a feeling of awe, of wonderment, a joy so deep it couldn’t be voiced lest it be somehow fractured. The feeling of vulnerability was strong, yet thrilling, too, because they were both risking all they were for what might be.
Such exquisite tension in the touching, gentle caresses heightening sensitivity, cherishing, loving, revelling in the flesh-and-blood warmth of a dream that hadn’t died, that could be resurrected if they cared enough, believed enough, wanted enough. The barrier of time was meaningless in this hour of knowing each other again.
A more needful kiss, simmering with barely leashed passion for the ultimate joining, their bodies straining to give and take, intensely aware there was something to be proved, the desire for it coursing through them, demanding fulfilment of the promise yet quivering on the edge of it, knowing the final plunge would mean so much—perhaps too much.
But it had to come.
Determination was in the hard, manly strength of the arms that lifted her and cradled her against the heaving muscles of his broad chest. A blaze of possession was in his eyes, the fierce intention to make her his woman. And she curled her arms around his neck, exulting in his resolution, wanting this man to be her man, the only one ever.
A soft Doona under her back, soft pillows under her head, her legs openly inviting him, her hands still linked behind his neck, their eyes locked, swimming in a tumultuous sea of feeling as he poised himself above her, and he whispered her name, like a soft call from his soul, a beat of his heart, a brand on his body.
Then it came, the full shaft of his manhood sliding inside her, slowly easing forward, feeling the throb of her welcome, her need of him, the sweet inner path of a woman who wanted all he could give, savouring the sensation of him moving deeper, deeper, filling the empty place that had been waiting, waiting it seemed for eternity, waiting for him to complete what had never been completed.
For a moment her heart suspended its beat, her body hung on a pinnacle of anticipation, her soul quivered with excitement, her eyes clung to his as her mind cried,
Let
be,
let it be
...And she heard, sensed, felt the silent scream from him,
Yes
, and there he was. Yes...the need in his mind meshing with hers, tunneling down, down, bursting into her soul as he touched her womb, the deep, magical touch of mating, the physical recognition of their lives melding in a union that was uniquely theirs, and a sigh of blissful contentment rippled through her at the rightness of it...yes.
Was it then the soaring began? The celebration of that ecstatic moment repeated and repeated in the rhythm of togetherness?
It was so beautiful, like a cup being filled and filled with the best this life had to offer, until it overflowed in an exquisite explosion of sensation that lifted them beyond physical things, into a stream of communion that obliterated every level of separation, and they were one in spirit again.
Or so it felt.
The huge emotional swell could not be contained. Tears gushed into Beth’s eyes. She was gently wrapped in his arms, carried with him to lie with her head over the soothing drum of his heart, and he held her tightly to him, stroking her hair as she sobbed out the relief of this coming together and the grief of having been parted for so long.
Eventually she quietened, the strong assurance of his possessive embrace and the tender caring in his continual caressing seeping through her, promising it wasn’t over and it wasn’t a dream. It was real and true and it wasn’t going to stop here.
The tears had washed away the pain of the past.
This was a new beginning.
The future was theirs to make of it what they would.
And she wanted it to go on like this... forever.
Let it be
, she silently prayed.
Let it be
.
S
AM’S excited barking and prancing were the first signals. Beth smiled, her heart lifting with happiness as she pressed the save button on the keyboard and rose from the chair in front of her computer. No sooner had she opened the door onto the veranda than the labrador pup shot out to perform his eager welcome routine. She could hear it now, too, the distinctive sound of the Porsche burning up the valley road to the farm.
“Jim’s here, Aunty Em,” she called into the house.
“I’m just icing the cake. Tell him it’s his favourite, chocolate sponge made with eggwhites.”
Beth grinned. Jim was always a good excuse to produce a masterpiece. Aunty Em had strongly advised against replacing the old Aga cooker in the kitchen for something more modern. For cake-making, nothing could beat it, and since she was spending more time at the farm with her brother than at her granny flat in Ryde, nobody was about to argue over what she wanted in the kitchen. Aunty Em was definitely in her element with good, old-fashioned equipment.
The Porsche dropped its revs to turn into the property. Sam was tearing towards the gateway. He was supposedly Beth’s dog, Jim having presented him to her the first week after she and her father had arrived here, but the eight-week-old puppy had already decided that the man who’d bought him was his real master. Or, as Aunty Em said, Jim and dogs had a natural affinity.
Beth started down the front steps, thinking how much had been achieved over the past two and a half months. Even the garden was in techni-colour bloom for Christmas, only ten days away. She glanced at the pile of timber waiting for Jim’s arrival. He was going to help her father put up the picket fence this weekend. Once that was done and painted, the place would really look like home again.
Her father was anxious to have everything right for Christmas. Chris and Patrick were coming. And last night, a phone call from Kate to say she was flying home, too. Tess couldn’t be here. She would be with her husband’s family in Perth. But for the most part, it would be like old times again. With her father very much his former self, and Jim sharing it with them, the happy memories would flow.
Dog and car made a race of it to the house. Jim alighted, laughing as Sam leapt on him, ready to lick every available part of the man he loved. Beth’s love for him welled up as she watched them together, pleasure written so openly on Jim’s face. He didn’t mind coming here at all. He enjoyed discussing plans with her father, acting on them. And in his eyes, whenever he looked at her, no holding back the wanting for everything to be right between them.
It was there now as he watched her coming to greet him, such a warm blaze of feeling enveloping her, tugging her to him. He didn’t move to meet her. She felt him drinking in the sight of her. Then she was in his arms, and he was drinking in the taste of her, the feel of her. And the magic of being together flowed again.
“I brought something back to you,” he said, releasing her to duck into the car and pick up a book from the passenger seat. “I thought you’d like to have it again now.”
Her heart turned over as he passed it to her, the book she’d given him fifteen years ago, with her address in Melbourne written on the flyleaf.
“I know it was your favourite,” he added softly.
Black Beauty
. A gift from her mother on her tenth birthday. She had loved the story, treasured the book, lent it to Jamie so he could read it and share her pleasure in it. When they had to part, there had been nothing more precious to give him as a keepsake:
Her eyes blurred with tears as she stared at this link with the past, to the time before Jim had lost faith in her feeling for him. The cover was slightly tattered and spotted, the marks of having travelled far and been in many places, taken with him wherever he went. She swallowed hard to ease the lump in her throat and raised her eyes to his.
“Why did you hold onto it?”
He lifted his hand to her cheek, gently brushing the trickle of moisture at the corner of her eye. “I couldn’t let go of the memory. The dream was shattered, Beth, but not the memory of you as you were to me then. That was always precious.”
“Yes. Always precious,” she echoed huskily. “Thank you for giving it back to me.”
He smiled. “I have no need of it any more.”
His eyes said she was all he needed now.
Beth hugged that thought all day.
The weather was mild, sunny without being too hot for working. Jim and her father had all the fence posts in by lunchtime. Aunty Em served a hearty meal of roast beef. Putting the railings up took most of the afternoon. Her father then declared they’d done enough, and tomorrow was soon enough to start on the picket palings. They retired to sit on the veranda and relax over a few beers before cleaning up for dinner.
It said a lot for Jim’s sensitivity that he was prepared to work alongside her father rather than calling in a team of fencing contractors to do the labouring for him. That wouldn’t have sat well with Tom Delaney. This way the partnership felt right to him. They were building something together.
They shared an easygoing rapport with respect on both sides, mutually satisfying in lots of ways. Jim had never had a father, and his relationship with Beth made him almost like a son to her dad. It wasn’t likely her brothers would return to the land, not in any lifestyle sense. Jim provided a sense of continuity.
Filling needs.
Was that what love was all about?
She had worried about meeting Jim’s expectations, but he didn’t seem to have any of her. He seemed perfectly content to simply have her with him. Twice she’d spent a week in Sydney, staying in his penthouse. He’d taken her to the Moscow Circus and to the theatre to see musicals and plays—whatever took her fancy. Wonderful nights together, sharing pleasure.
During the days she could use his personal computer in his study to work as she pleased while he attended to his business. There was no friction between them about anything. He enjoyed listening to her talk about what she was writing. He said It was a great escape from his high-pressure world.
Perhaps the farm was, too. For a man who’d lived a very solitary life, the family atmosphere had to be attractive. And Aunty’s Em’s home cooking was always a treat. She produced a wonderful steak and kidney pie for dinner, and Jim polished off his helping with much vocal appreciation. Her aunt beamed with pleasure. She was only too happy to usher him and Beth out for an evening walk, insisting she and Tom would do the dishes.
Sam accompanied them, eager for adventure. They followed the creek until they came to the track that cut through the back of the valley to old Jorgen’s farm. Jim steered her onto it, holding her hand firmly in his. Beth glanced apprehensively at him, concerned about the memories such a walk would stir.
“Are you sure you want to go this way, Jim?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Time to lay ghosts to rest, Beth.”
“If you say so,” she murmured uncertainly. She knew Jorgen had died many years ago. The farmhouse had burnt down, and he’d burnt with it. A fitting end, she’d thought, for a man who’d dished out hell to Jamie. But that still didn’t make it a good place to visit.
“He didn’t make a will,” Jim said dryly. “Some time after his death, I was notified that I was the only living heir. Apparently my mother had died of a drug overdose, so the property came to me. Ironic, isn’t it?”
Sad, she thought. “Did you ever try to find your mother?”
“No. She knew what she was leaving me to. It was what she’d run away from.”
Beth shook her head. “I don’t know how she could have done it.”
“Out of spite. She’d lived with Jorgen saying she should have been a son. So she gave him one.” He shrugged. “If she was taking drugs she probably wasn’t in her right mind.”
“I guess not.” All the same, abandoning her child to a bitter old tyrant was unforgivable to Beth. Though if it hadn’t been done, she and Jamie might never have met. She heaved a rueful sigh and asked, “Have you sold the property?”
“No. I didn’t want to touch it. I wanted it to rot into nothing.”
Dust to dust, she thought.
“I finally realised this week I was still hanging onto it instead of letting it go. So I gave it away.”
That startled her. “To whom?”
His grin flashed with intense satisfaction. “An organisation that helps kids who’ve been kicked in the guts by life. It gets them on their feet again.”
“What a great idea!” She warmly approved.
It was not only letting the bad memories go, but completely turning around what the place had meant to him.
“I got rid of the Brett Whitely painting, too. Gave it to Claud to sell for me.”
“Why?” She was utterly astonished, but glad. It was not a painting she would ever have chosen to live with.
“You didn’t like it.”
“It pulsed with pain,” she said quietly, unable to deny her dislike.
“It used to suit my more savage moods.” He grinned at her. “Having you soothes the beast in me.”
She laughed, her eyes twinkling teasingly. “I don’t mind a bit of savage sometimes.”
Desire instantly kindled. “If Sam wasn’t with us, I’d be severely tempted to take you up on that.”
Hearing his name, the dog frolicked around them, barking for attention. Sam would definitely try to get in on the act of lovemaking, trying to nudge between them and lick their faces. Much better to wait until they were alone and could concentrate completely on each other. Tonight was soon enough.
This walk was good, Beth decided, shedding the baggage of the past. Nevertheless, she was conscious of a growing tension in Jim as they approached the boundary fence of what had been the prison of his childhood and adolescence. Resolutions were great in principle. Facing painful memories was not so easy.
They reached the sliprails where they used to say goodbye to each other. Beth had not been welcome on Jorgen’s farm. No one was. Jim released her hand. She hesitated, not knowing if he wanted her to go on with him.
But he didn’t climb through the fence. He leaned his arms on the top railing and slowly surveyed the scene of his former misery. Beth stepped beside him, keeping a silent vigil as he looked his fill.
In the gathering twilight, the property had an abandoned, decaying air. The remnants of a blackened brick chimney stood where the house had been. The dairy and barn were only fit for demolition, their roofs half gone, their walls with large sections either rotted away or fallen askew. The fields were full of thistles, occasionally broken by piles of rocks Jim had humped out of the way so the ground could be ploughed. Old machinery had been left to rust, half-buried in weeds.
“After you’d gone to Melbourne, I used to come and stand here at night, when Jorgen had gone to bed,” he said quietly. “It made me feel close to you.”
So lonely, bereft of any love. She moved to stand behind him, sliding her arms around his waist, hugging him, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get my letters,” she murmured.
“In a way, it was better not getting them, Beth. I didn’t want to know about your life away from me. I used to stand here and relive what we’d shared, dream about a future when we’d be together again. That way you were still mine. You didn’t belong anywhere else.”
Still mine
. Until he’d seen her with Kevin. “When you left here, did you think of writing to me?” she asked softly, wanting to know more of those years that were dark to her.
“No. I had nothing good to tell you. Nothing I could even promise you with any real confidence.”
Pride. The need for a sense of self-worth before reaching out for her.
“I stuck it out here until I had my school certificate. It gave me something to start with. To build on. I took whatever jobs I could get in Sydney and enrolled at college part time. It was all work, lectures, study, living as cheaply as possible.”
He turned to face her, leaning against the fence, drawing her between his legs to hold her close. His eyes sought her understanding. “You know what that course is like, Beth. You did it, too, in between looking after your family.”
“No time for play,” she said, sympathetically aware of the struggle to make it through.
“I aimed for a scholarship at the business college. I knew that would lead me into the financial world with the proper qualifications.” His eyes flashed an appeal. “When you’ve had nothing, the idea of making a lot of money is... quite compelling.”
She knew what the lack of money was like. Her father had lost the farm because of it, and they’d lived hand to mouth during those early years in Melbourne, barely making do.
“I worked all hours and saved all I could in case I didn’t get the scholarship,” he went on, intensity creeping into his voice. “I had to get those qualifications one way or another. But the scholarship came through a week before the first term was to start.”
“That must have been a marvellous moment,” she said, smiling with pride in him.

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