The Wedding Must Go On (10 page)

Obviously eager to touch base with Marla, Roxy hurried after him. ‘I’ll go too.’

His expression wry, Greg stopped before his friend. ‘All cooled off now?’

Nate removed his hat and pulled on his shirt. ‘You should’ve come in for a swim.’

‘Haven’t you heard? Three’s a crowd.’

‘You’re forgetting Marla.’

‘No. Marla’s forgotten me.’ Greg set the wood down and stayed crouched beside the fire, watching the flames. ‘When you and Roxy got involved, she headed off. I followed. We took the pickup back here. Hell, we even talked.’

‘Greg, that’s great!’

‘About an uncle of hers who owned a property. She explained at length how he’d castrate young bulls. Apparently they’ll break through any paddock to get to a cow in heat. She even described the tool used.’ Greg visibly shuddered. ‘By the time I turned off that rickety old engine, I felt nauseous.’

Nate winced but pointed out, ‘She’s testing you.’

‘Tell my testicles that.’

Nate flicked a look at the verandah. ‘She’ll be out soon and you’ll have another chance. Just follow my lead. Loosen up.’

Greg stopped poking a stick at the flames to peer up. ‘What is it with you two anyway? I thought you weren’t interested in seeing Roxy again.’ One thick brow arched. ‘I’m guessing you saw plenty of each other in that creek.’

After that engagement party where he and Roxy had obviously hit it off, Nate had only ever mentioned that he hadn’t wanted to see her again. That she seemed highly strung and didn’t want to see him again either. He guessed Roxy had told Marla a similar story to suit. No use bringing up kisses and curses. Greg would only laugh and harder than Roxy had. So now Nate told his friend the truth—or a good portion of it.

‘Me and Roxy together, here … well, it’s an act.’

‘An act for what?’

‘To show Marla that people deserve a second chance.’

‘What I saw happening in that creek between you two was no act.’

‘We were mucking around. Hell, I’m a man, she’s a woman—’

‘And if water hadn’t been involved, the flames would’ve been hotter than these.’ He tossed the stick into glowing ashes. ‘A crowbar couldn’t have pried you two apart.’

‘Which only goes to show. If Roxy and I can move forward, imagine how easy it’d be if you got close to Marla for a few minutes.’

Thinking that through, Greg scratched his temple and gradually found his feet. ‘Maybe, if I had the right mood, the right opportunity.’

‘Roxy and I can help with the first. Then it’s up to you.’ That screen door squeaked open, slapped shut. He sent Greg a private wink. ‘Follow my lead.’

Carrying a bowl of salad, Roxy headed down the stairs. Next came Mr Glenrowan with plates. His wife and Marla followed with napkins, condiments and cutlery.

Mr Glenrowan saw to the damper and laid the bread in the centre of a wobbly outdoor table. ‘Butter’s there if you want it.’

Nate pulled a piece off the incredibly fresh, steamy loaf and sank his teeth in. Lord, he was famished. But then he remembered Roxy, his manners and the plan. Setting down the bread, he dusted his hands and asked, ‘Can I cut you a slice?’

She nodded. ‘With a dollop of butter on the side.’

After Nate was finished, Greg came forward, sliced off two pieces and brought one to Marla.

‘No butter,’ he said. ‘Right?’

Marla’s eyes widened as if she were taken aback or alarmed by his civility, but then she accepted the plate, even offered a small smile.

Seeing to the second pot, Mr Glenrowan lifted the lid and stirred the contents until a hearty aroma drifted into Nate’s lungs and taste buds began to water.

‘On a guest’s first night,’ Mr Glenrowan said, slipping the pot’s handle off its rod with the help of a folded tea towel, ‘we always eat under the stars.’ He surveyed the sky, which had succumbed to a far-reaching dusk, then put the pot on the table. ‘Grab some stew and go pull up a log.’

He indicated three log-cum-benches positioned in a U around the fire. After filling their plates with beef and bean stew, Nate and Roxy took the log nearest the homestead. Greg sat on the second of three. Marla took the third.

Roxy set a spoonful of stew to her mouth then, wincing, pulled it quickly away. ‘It’s hot.’

‘Let some steam escape.’ Nate took her spoon and wound the utensil back and forth through the stew for a moment or two. Then he lifted a spoonful and asked, ‘Mind if I test it?’

Amused, Roxy shrugged. ‘Sure. Go ahead.’

Nate set the spoon to his upper lip, smiled and handed it over. ‘Should be fine now.’

He wouldn’t offer to cool just anyone’s dinner but in truth he was only repeating what he’d done many times for the younger kids growing up. Still, it occurred to him now that Greg was eyeing Marla’s plate, maybe wondering if her stew was too hot. But she wasn’t giving him a chance to help if it was. Dunking her damper, she sopped up stew juice before taking a big, ‘I’m fine without you’ bite.

Obviously feeling the ripple of unease, Roxy started a conversation. ‘Nate and I were talking about bunyips.’

Chuckling, Mr Glenrowan made himself comfortable on Greg’s log. ‘Noisy beasts.’

Marla swallowed and slanted her head. ‘You believe in monsters?’

‘Out here,’ Mrs Glenrowan said, sitting herself alongside Marla, ‘you get to believe in all kinds of things.’

Mr Glenrowan stirred his stew. ‘It’s actually owls that nest near creeks that make those terrible screeching noises—like a woman’s scream.’

Marla lowered her damper slice. ‘Are they nesting at the moment?’

‘You hear ‘em from time to time.’

When Greg crossed to the table to grab a napkin, Mr Glenrowan crooked his finger at his wife and she moved to sit alongside him. More than willing to play musical logs, Greg didn’t waste time. He sat down an arm’s length away from Marla.

Pleased with the progress, Nate kept the conversation going. ‘Bet there’s some good ghost stories around these parts.’

‘All manner of ‘em,’ Mr Glenrowan said.

‘What’s your favourite?’ Roxy asked at the same time Nate caught Greg’s eye and, in demonstration, sidled a little closer to her. At that moment, Marla dropped her spoon. Greg snatched it up mid-air and edged closer as he handed it back.

‘We could tell them about that woman fifty years ago,’ Mrs Glenrowan said, looking around the circle while the fire leapt and crackled. ‘The daughter of a general on holiday out here from America got hopelessly lost in the bush. The general and his wife spent days searching. They finally found her by a creek.’

‘
That
creek?’ Roxy asked.

‘Yes, but a ways upstream from here.’

Marla sat, riveted. ‘Was she … alive?’

‘She was breathing but wringing wet and stuck in a trancelike state. She kept saying the water spirit had saved her. She described a handsome man with skin dark as
ebony, transparent teeth and eyes like glowing coals set way back in his skull. Every night after that, the girl wandered down to the water to wait for his return.’

In the dancing firelight, Marla’s eyes grew wider. ‘A ghost.’

‘And her lover,’ Mrs Glenrowan said. ‘Nine months on, she had a baby. Same complexion as hers but the eyes.’ As Mrs Glenrowan leaned forward Marla shrank towards Greg. ‘The eyes were unusually bright. The same colour as the sun at midday when the sky is filled with wind and dust.’

When Marla shivered, Greg stepped in. ‘Can I get you a wrap?’

Marla blinked over and found a weak smile. ‘I love ghost stories but.’

‘They give you bad dreams,’ Greg finished for her a second before a screech echoed through the shadows and Marla jumped, landing even closer to Greg.

‘It’s an owl,’ Mr Glenrowan said, balancing his plate on his lap while he pulled damper apart and, a knowing smile on her lips, his wife kept eating.

Nate sat back. What an intriguing couple.

‘How did you two meet?’ he asked.

Mrs Glenrowan—’My sister dated his brother.’

Roxy—’Did you have a double wedding?’

Nate threw in, ‘Roxy designs wedding gowns,’ then spotted Marla’s gaze sliding Greg’s way. She was thinking about wearing that gown. Thinking about the man she loved being so close. Close enough to forgive.

Mrs Glenrowan lowered her plate. ‘Sadly those two didn’t marry. They had an argument. A misunderstanding, really. She went off in a huff.’

‘And they never made up.’ Nate exhaled. For this exercise’s sake, he’d hoped for a happy ending.

‘Ended up she got hitched to a widower with six kids,’ said Mr Glenrowan.

His wife added, ‘My sister couldn’t have children.’

‘So it turned out for the best?’ Marla asked.

‘My brother never married. Still pines for her to this day.’ Mr Glenrowan held his wife’s hand, brought her fingers to his lips and murmured, ‘I’ve always been the lucky one.’

‘Not that we haven’t had disagreements,’ Mrs G pointed out.

‘But you always forgive me.’

The older pair peered into each other’s eyes for a long moment before Mrs Glenrowan brought herself back and let slip a coy laugh. ‘Suppose I ought to see to the dishes.’

Marla stood. ‘I’ll do that.’

Greg stood too. ‘I’ll help.’

While Marla seemed to hold her breath, Nate also pushed to his feet. ‘Roxy and I’ll tidy up out here.’

Marla’s focus went to Mrs Glenrowan, who was dabbing her napkin against a corner of her husband’s mouth before lightly kissing the spot. Marla’s lips swung to one side, her brow creased, then she finally nodded. She took Greg’s plate first, then, collecting everyone else’s in turn, moved inside.

Greg collected the damper and said to Nate, ‘See you all later.’

Nate crossed mental fingers.

Hopefully much later.

The Glenrowans went for a long walk, leaving just Roxy and Nate to talk in hushed tones about the progress Greg and Marla seemed to have made this evening. For the first time since agreeing to this plot, Roxy felt truly optimistic. Maybe Nate’s plan would work after all.

When the fire died and it became obvious their friends wouldn’t be rejoining them, Roxy let Nate take her hand to lead her inside. As they moved up those worn wooden steps a clutch of nerves jumped in Roxy’s stomach. She still glowed after their mind-blowing romp in the creek. She couldn’t deny she looked forward to enjoying something similar behind closed doors tonight.

But with Greg and Marla’s relationship so damaged, she also felt guilty. Hopefully those two had stuck it out during kitchen duties and were on their way to working something longer-term out. So why not enjoy a little more of what Nate had to offer? Roxy thought as they entered the house, which smelled of old wool and fresh billy tea. It wasn’t as if this tryst would go on indefinitely, for more reasons than one. Although she did wonder how, and when, it would fold. Not until after that anniversary party …
if
she accepted his invitation. And, frankly, she was curious. Their Glenrowan hosts seemed completely devoted to one another. How would Nate’s besotted parents compare?

How would his family welcome her? Careful to be quiet and not disturb, they padded down a long high-ceilinged hallway walled in faded blue tongue-and-groove. At the hallway’s end, they turned left and found their luggage waiting outside two separate bedroom doorways. Nate stuck his nose in one room, the other, then collected both cases and entered the first.

‘This room looks like ours.’

Secretly liking the way he took charge, Roxy flicked on the light and crossed to the centre of the room. The bed was big and covered in clean comforters and pillows. An old-fashioned cedar dresser sat bumped up against the far wall. Flimsy curtains floated on the opened window’s refreshing evening breeze.

She inhaled and sighed. ‘It smells like rose petals in here.’

Nate flicked on a lamp, thumbed off the main light then joined her. As his hot palms curved over her hips she tipped closer, enough for their lips to almost touch. But when his head angled and his grip tightened, she wove her mouth away from his.

‘You’re being presumptuous.’

A knuckle on her chin turned her gaze back to his. ‘Given all that talk about ghosts, I thought you could use some company tonight.’

‘I’m not the nail-biting type, remember?’

Irresistibly close, his lazy grin spread. ‘Then maybe you should humour me.’

Helpless to resist, she fanned her palms up beneath his shirt, over his flat stomach and relished the way his glittering blue eyes drifted shut. ‘What would this humouring involve?’

‘I should think lots of petting.’

Petting. ‘That’s an interesting term.’

‘Interspersed with plenty of kissing.’

Holding his jaw with both hands, she brought her mouth to his and kissed him slow and deep and long. Finally she drew away.

‘Like that?’ she asked.

He growled and pulled her back. ‘
Just
like that.’

He kissed her even more thoroughly, ironing his palms over her hips, pressing her against him so there could be no misunderstanding about how much he wanted her. Running her fingers up his front, she began unbuttoning his shirt, but not nearly fast enough. He flicked open one button but she held his hand to stop him.

‘Hey, cowboy, this is my job.’

His voice was a husky rasp. ‘Just thought I’d help.’

She pretended to think it over.

‘Well, okay.’

He grabbed the front tails and tore the shirt off over his head. ‘There. Done.’

The shorts came off, her dress. Then he threw her over his shoulder and strode to the bed with her yelp of surprise echoing through the room. When he dropped her on the airy mattress and, one knee on the bed, hovered above her, Roxy’s every cell flashed hot. With his bright eyes unusually dark, he lowered down. His arm curled possessively around her head then, as a distant curlew cried through the night, he kissed her with more hunger and need than she’d ever dreamed could be possible.

A
MASCULINE
groan rumbling from beneath the daisy-print covers dragged Roxy from her dreams.

Blinking open her eyes, she smiled at the morning sunshine filling the large room, then smiled all the more as memories of that incredible ‘night before’ tumbled through her mind. Turning her head, she assessed the rounded shape that spanned the length of the cosy double bed, the handsome face cradled deep in the feather-down pillow. She had to bite her lip to contain the sigh. She’d actually done it … got over her angst and had sex with Nate Sparks, and in several highly orgasmic ways.

The time spent at that creek yesterday afternoon was something for the textbook. Her blood smouldered to even think of the way Nate had used his hands, his voice. His tongue. And then, last night, when they’d made love again, the fireworks had exploded higher. Brighter. She couldn’t believe that two people coming together could feel so much like …
magic
.

Although, when she’d curled up into his strong heat in this bed to finally fall asleep, Roxy had had a disturbing thought. If this got any better, she definitely wouldn’t be able to see him again. Already he was addictive. She didn’t want to get hooked, and neither would he.

She was enjoying the toasty tickly feeling in her tummy
that came from merely being with him when his hawkish nose wrinkled and one long impossibly toned arm stretched high. When that limb dropped over her waist, the impact whooshed air from her lungs. Still asleep, he hauled her near. Naked beneath the covers, Roxy got her breath and slid up against his hard heat. The days might get hot out here in the Outback, but early mornings were perfectly mild.

For a long satisfying time, she studied the planes and angles of his face at the same time her fingers itched to riffle through the crisp hair on his chest then filter over the slow-pulsing hollow at the base of his tanned throat. Pressed up close, Roxy indulged her memories—and fantasies—until she was aching for him to wake so they could make love again.

Maybe a friendly nudge.

Lightly she laid a bent knee over his thigh. When he muttered something, but then drifted off again, she pressed into him more and pinpricks of warmth and desire erupted all over her.

He was hard. So thick and rigid that fighting the temptation to kiss and stroke him awake had become a real challenge. Then he rolled towards her more and his erection poked her belly. He might not know it, but he was begging for her attentions.

With a feathery touch, she trailed a hand down over his hip, across the breadth of that steely thigh then gently—but deftly—she coiled her fingers around him and squeezed just enough.

His engorged length jerked, and again. Leaning in, she dropped a soft teasing kiss on his chest. The wiry black hair tickled her nose at the same time his musky scent drifted deep into her lungs, through her stimulated system. Still, his eyes stayed shut.

She frowned. What would it take to wake him? Maybe she should nibble his ear or trace the tip of her tongue over the seam of his lips or—

A wicked grin curved her mouth.

Or maybe I should really give him something to dream about
.

With infinite care, she shifted and began to slow kiss her way down over his chest, the steely ruts of his abdomen. Her tongue wound leisurely around his navel before travelling further south until her lips grazed the hot rounded tip of his erection.

In semi-darkness beneath the covers, she took him inside her mouth and instantly her insides began to pulse. Her grip tightened a fraction as she traced her way further down, while her hold on him dragged slowly up. Her breasts rubbing against his legs, she gave herself over to the heat humming through her veins, and the kindling sparking between her own thighs.

Soon he was moving too—with her, against her. Roxy would have grinned if she’d been able. He was awake, or as awake as he needed to be.

When his movements grew to a pace and thrust she couldn’t accommodate, reluctantly she released him and slid up his front, leaving a trail of burning kisses along the way. And as her face met his, she was greeted by the world’s sleepiest, sexiest lopsided smile. Easing out a happy growl, he ran a palm over her crown.

‘Well, this
is
a good morning.’

‘I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.’

‘Who said I wasn’t awake?’

‘You were playing possum? That’s not fair.’

‘Way I see it, it’s you who took complete advantage of me. And don’t let me stop you.’ Offering himself, he lay flat on his back, hands cradling his head. ‘Be gentle.’

She was certain her eyes laughed even as her lips pursed to contain the smile. ‘And if I’m not in the mood for gentle?’

Without warning, he flung back the covers, scooped her up and swung her over so that she straddled his lap. After a yelp of surprise, her laughter spilled out.

Grinding her hips down while he ground up, he pretended to scold her. ‘
Shh
. You’ll wake up the house.’

‘I’m not sure we didn’t keep them awake last night.’

His palm fanned over one breast, the ridges of his fingers teasing and rubbing a beaded nipple. And as he moved beneath her and Roxy listened to the visceral tune playing deep inside her she found her eyes drifting shut and the pleasure begin to climb.

With a firm hold on her hips, he manoeuvred his loins and slowly entered her. A hypnotic veil fell and, without conscious thought, she began to move as time wound down to a sweet syrupy slow. Her body was everywhere, exquisite sensations her everything, and as the room grew warmer and his controlled thrusts drove deeper, almost too soon, she found herself balanced on the edge of that wonderful sparkling precipice.

For a pulse-pounding moment, she stilled, arching her spine more, needing to concentrate to maintain the sizzling status quo; this fine line between infinite understanding and heaven was just too good to let go. But as she swayed and clutched his sides her core squeezed more and the world dropped further away.

On a different plane, she recognized a comforting warmth cup her cheek and, buzzing all over, she opened heavy-lidded eyes. The sexiest, most considerate lover ever born was gazing up at her with an expression so focused and pure, it took even more of her breath away.

Perhaps it was that look alone that set the fire free and
ripping through her, or a heady combination of surreal, physical and maybe even spiritual pleasures. All she knew categorically was the power of that blinding-white moment of release when her eyes screwed shut, her head jerked back and a groan was torn from the heart of her.

Moments later, when the rolling waves grew fainter and further apart, finally she withered and lay, spent, on top of him.

She was drifting in some other perfect place when Nate gently eased her over and guided her onto her back. Then he was inside her again, working towards a second crescendo. Kneeling between her thighs, he reached behind, brought her knees up either side of him and continued to love her, hitting a spot that released a brilliant blue flame that tore through and engulfed her again.

She ought to have been mindless. Unable to think. And yet all the while one word swam through her mind. Not
scorching
or
orgasmic
. She couldn’t shake it.

This was—
he
was—
magic
.

With Roxy lying worn out beneath him, Nate buried his face in her silken spread of hair, contemplating any likely way they could spend the entire morning wrapped around each other and enjoy more of this, when an odd sound drifted in through the screen covering the open window.

Laughter.

Easy.

Familiar.

A heartbeat after his eyes flew open, he drew up on his elbows, listened harder. At the same time Roxy stiffened then her head whipped towards the sound.

‘Am I hearing right?’ she asked.

That laughter came again and Nate smiled down into suddenly alert bright green eyes.

‘Greg and Marla, chuckling.’

‘Talking.’ He sprang up, threw his legs over the side of the bed and, elated, smacked the pile of rumpled sheet at his side. ‘They’re back together.’

‘Maybe.’

Frowning, he watched Roxy as she bunched the sheet up under her arms and joined him, sitting on the side of the mattress. ‘People who are angry at each other don’t laugh like that.’

‘A ceasefire doesn’t equate to resuming an engagement.’

He nudged her playfully. ‘Pessimist.’

‘Oh, I forgot. Of course you’d assume that true love conquers all.’

He looked at her sideways and got to his feet. ‘No one can deny love is a powerful force.’

‘You’re the expert.’

She was grinning, that little dimple winking. But she was serious and he wouldn’t rise to the bait. He grinned back.

‘Well, y’know, maybe I
am
an expert.’

A bath towel, which had been placed at the foot of the bed, had fallen to the floor. He swooped and wrapped it around his hips before heading to the window for a look. Marla and Greg were strolling towards a dilapidated old sheep shed situated a short distance beyond the yard. He couldn’t make out their words, but he read the body language. They were walking side by side,
close
, and glancing across at each other for long moments as they talked. Neither looked stressed. In fact, the pair seemed decidedly relaxed.

With the sheet draped around her, Roxy appeared beside him. She studied the scene for a thoughtful moment and finally grunted.

‘Just as I thought.’

Squinting at the sunshine bouncing off the shed’s tin roof, he asked, ‘What do you think?’

‘She hasn’t forgiven him yet. Or not completely.’

‘How could you know that?’

‘They’re not holding hands.’

His head coming forward, he looked harder and exhaled.

Damn. She was right.

‘They were the kind of couple who were always touching,’ she said. ‘His arm slung around her shoulders if they were sitting at home. Her leg sliding up his under the table when they went out to dinner. Always holding hands when they walked.’

‘Be that as it may, they’ve made remarkable progress. By early afternoon, they’ll be planning how to let everyone know the wedding is back on.’

Attention still on the couple disappearing around that shed, Roxy brought the sheet up higher under her chin.

‘Maybe.’ Her gaze dropped. ‘I don’t think you understand how hurtful a picture can be. It sticks in your brain even when you wish it wouldn’t.’

He studied her profile and wondered. ‘We’re not talking about Greg’s pictures from his buck’s night, are we?’

She seemed to hold her breath before meeting his gaze again. ‘The week after that engagement party, I happened upon a magazine shot of you. You were with a woman. A brunette. Some might consider her attractive. To my mind she looked like a bit of a tart.’

His mind wound back and in a few seconds he had the answer. ‘That was no tart. Roxy, that was my sister.’

The sheet clutched higher around her throat but she shook her head. ‘No. That’s not right. You were
with
her.’

‘I assure you, not in that way. Naomi’s husband was interstate. I escorted her to an art gallery opening she didn’t
want to miss. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t dated a woman since that engagement party.’

Her eyes glistened and nose twitched as if she were battling a sudden rush of emotion. ‘You haven’t?’

‘One of my other sisters, Ivy, thinks I’m a boring businessman with no social life.’

A smile lit her eyes. ‘She does?’

He laughed, then wrapped his arms around her waist, brought her close and murmured against the warm shell of her ear.

‘What say we do our bit to help the environment and save water by sharing a shower?’

In case she had any ideas about declining, he dropped his mouth over hers and moments later she was as pliant as warm putty.

‘Just remember,’ she purred, when he broke the kiss, ‘making love for thirty minutes under a shower nozzle doesn’t equate to conserving water.’

‘I’ll remember that if you promise not to work me into a lather.’

‘I’ll promise if you promise.’

Taking her hand, he led her to the attached bath and assured her.

He wouldn’t promise anything.

Despite wanting to stay with her under the jets, Nate only kept Roxy in the shower for ten minutes, enough to froth her up and wash her down. And as he reluctantly turned off the water, in his mind he confirmed that these few days away were the best idea he’d ever hatched. He’d lost count of the times he and Roxy had made love and yet he still couldn’t get enough.

Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course. This was physical. Fun. He was a long way from falling down on one
knee and pledging his heart. Especially now that Marla and Greg were back on track.

After he and Roxy dressed in jeans and tees, they stuck their heads out of the door and smelled breakfast, something salty and greasy, along with eggs and more scrumptious damper.

They ate in a huge old-fashioned kitchen, complete with yellowed vintage oven, scarred hardwood table and the cheerful company of Mr and Mrs Glenrowan. But there was no sign of Marla or Greg, although Mrs G let them know that it seemed some mice had raided the pantry and perhaps the other young couple had preferred a picnic for breakfast rather than sharing their company around the table this morning.

Over a warm cup of tea, Mr Glenrowan suggested a horse ride, so, after the dishes were cleared and Nate and Roxy fitted on suitable footwear, they made their way out front to see about galloping off down a wide-open plain. When they stepped into the sunshine, Mr Glenrowan had four horses saddled and ready. Greg and Marla were there too, chatting to each other while they waited.

Greg spotted them first and he put up a hand in greeting. ‘You’re joining us for a ride?’

Marla’s smile was buoyant and a little contrite. ‘Oh. Hi.’ She threw a glance around. ‘Great day, huh?’

‘A beautiful day,’ Roxy replied in an overly bright tone.

Mr Glenrowan was checking a gelding’s girth strap. ‘Who wants this one? He’s good ‘n’ tame.’