Fiery Possession (21 page)

“You have beautiful roses.” She plucked a bloom and stroked the soft petals with one finger.

“My mother set this garden up” he said softly. “Roses were her favorite flower because they bloomed almost continuously for eight or so months of the year.”

“Do you remember her?”

“Vaguely, I was only small when she died.”

It sounded like genuine regret in his voice. “It must be sad growing up without a mother's love.”

“I can buy all the loving I need.” The tone of his voice changed, becoming flat, emotionless.

“Money can't buy everything.”

“It buys me everything I want. It bought me you, didn't it?”

“Yes.” Bitterness spewed out in the one word. “You've bought and paid for my body, but the rest of me will never belong to you.”

“Your body is the only thing I'm interested in. Yes, I'm very interested in it.” 

His arms snaked out and he dragged her against his hard maleness. Kissing her ruthlessly, he forced her lips apart so his tongue could taste her mouth. He held her head with a steely grip under the chin. When he ground his hips against hers, she felt the hard thrust of his burgeoning manhood. By the time he eventually released her, they both breathed heavily.

“Time to go inside, I think,” he said huskily.

“I'm not ready to go in yet.”

“I am. Unless you want me to take you right here and now, you'll do as I say. No telling who might happen upon us out here.”

She fled inside with his mocking laughter ringing in her ears.

***

Jo had just finished lunch when Luke arrived to take her down to the shearing shed, as he had promised on the previous day. After last night, she knew she looked so pale and big-eyed it would have aroused pity in any other man.

She had tried to fight him, but the moment he started to caress her intimately, her treacherous body betrayed her. How could one hate a man, yet respond so passionately to him? This, as much as his seemingly insatiable appetite, had kept her awake most of the night.

“Have you lunched?”  She surprised herself as much as him by asking the question.

“Yes, I've eaten, thank you. If you're ready, we'll go.”

He waited, rubbing one fist against the other until she came up to him.

“Am I dressed to your satisfaction?”  She gave an exaggerated curtsy, wondering why she deliberately tried to antagonize him.

His eyes skimmed briefly over the pale blue gown he had chosen. Pride for when she came under the shearers’ scrutiny had made her obey his instructions, instead of defying him.

Most of the workers on the station would know her position here, so it was unlikely for word not to have spread to the shearing shed about her being Luke’s mistress.

The sun scorched like a furnace from a cloudless blue sky. The shearing shed, well away from the house, was made of pit-sawn logs weathered silver grey by the elements. The holding pens held noisy, moving sheep.

She watched with interest as the shearers worked skillfully with their blades. Two men brought the sheep into the shed then dragged the shorn ones back to the pens.

A boy carried the fleeces up to the sorter for removal of stains and inferior parts, before it got rolled up. She could have performed a job like that if someone had been prepared to give her a chance.

Three men worked at the press, she noticed above the noise of bleating sheep, oaths and shouted orders. She could not tolerate the intense heat for long. The insolent stares cast her way by some of the men made her cringe, yet she gave no outward show, carried her head proudly, and by sheer willpower forced her lips not to tremble.

The news of her position at the station had obviously circulated through the shed, but if Luke sensed this he gave no sign, just strode on ahead. She could do nothing else but follow him.

“I've seen enough, thank you.”  She passed a trembling hand across her damp forehead. “It's too hot in here for me.”

“Please yourself.  You'll have to make your own way back to the house. I have things that need doing here.”

Deliberately, he turned his back and engaged a young, ruddy-faced man in conversation. Such an obvious dismissal caused her to fume. It took all the courage she possessed to saunter back down the length of the shed on her own.

“The boss only wants you in his bed, eh?”

She glared at the beefy young man who worked, stripped to the waist.  This was a taste of things to come when Luke cast her aside.

“When the boss kicks you out of his bed, come and share mine.”

She ignored his very existence. On reaching the fresh air outside, she almost slumped against the shed, but couldn’t afford the luxury; instead she headed straight into the scrub. Sitting on a fallen creeper clad log, she cried tears of humiliation and despair.

***

During the next few weeks, Jo only ventured off the property to visit Fiona and Lucy. Even they did not seem to need her any more, as the man who came over from Kangaroo Gully proved to be a strong, capable worker. There was no shortage of food either, as they put everything they bought at the general store on to Luke's account.

Fiona did what Jo suggested, buying a little extra of the essentials to store away for when Luke sent her packing and they were thrown back to their own devices.

They even owned a few head of scrub cattle now. The man had driven the animals into one of their fenced paddocks after discovering them half-wild in the bush. Down near the creek, he planted vegetables, which were watered by means of a channel being dug along each row. Why hadn’t Ian been capable of such enterprise? It might have saved her from being in this terrible position.

She struck up a friendship with the housekeeper and got on well with the household staff, how humiliating to know even those of the lowliest order pitied her. Only the brazen Effie envied her, the beautiful gowns Luke provided. Couldn't she see the price Jo paid was too high?

On several occasions, Luke had ordered her to accompany him into town. She refused point blank. Against all his promises to buy her pretty things, and when that didn't work, threats and intimidation, save literally dragging her into town with him, there was little he could do about it.

Later, in the big four-poster bed they shared each night she paid for this stubbornness. Anger inflamed his desire. While she kept reminding herself how loathsome he was, her traitorous body always responded. An unconscionable rake like him knew exactly how to arouse a woman to fever pitch.

He was hot tempered, moody and brooding as if something important was nagging at him. Only at night did they find common ground. Neither of them could hide their desire to savor each other's flesh. It seared both of them with a scorching flame, impossible to extinguish until their passion reached a fiery crescendo. They would crash back to earth, their bodies slicked with perspiration, their hearts madly pounding, in a state of post-coital inebriation. She hated herself and him for this weakness and instinct told her he too despised his continuing desperate need.

“We'll be entertaining a few guests next Saturday evening.”

This sudden announcement caused her to start out of her daydream. “Guests?” What scheme lurked in his brain now?

“Yes. I want you to wear your prettiest gown. I ordered a special one from Melbourne some time ago and it should be here in a day or so.”

“I won't do it.”

“You will. I want to show you off.” 

He smiled, really smiled. What a devilishly handsome man he was when the usually severe planes of his face softened. Her heart rose up in her breast momentarily, before plummeting when she realized what he planned. “You want to show me off as your mistress. I won't do it.”

“No.” The soft reply was in stark contrast to the cruel, fleeting smirk she thought she saw. “I want to show you off as Jo Saunders, my beautiful houseguest. Will you help me entertain my friends?”

Shock rendered her speechless for a moment. “All right, if you want me to.” She wanted to take his comments at face value, but could she trust him?

***

Over the next few days, Luke behaved erratically, as if he had been stewing over some problem for which he had now found a solution. On several occasions when she watched him while he was unaware of it, his mouth would be set into cruel, almost savage lines, then, as if sensing her appraisal, a smile would mask the previous expression.

One day he took her out shooting. Although a fine shot, she soon realized she would never outshoot him. He was the type of man who excelled at everything he did. They shared a picnic lunch on the banks of a fast flowing river fed by icy mountain streams. He showed her a little waterfall tinkling over smooth rocks. In a nearby field, bluebells and yellow buttercups grew alongside the white everlastings.

“Mm beautiful.”  She wiped the crumbs away from her mouth on a snowy white napkin that matched the cloth they had laid their picnic lunch on.

“Tell me about yourself, Jo.”

She chewed on a blade of grass and wondered what he was up to now. “I had a happy childhood in California even though my father spent a lot of time away from us.  There was only Ian and myself and we were close, it never mattered about him only being my half-brother. I got him into some frightful scrapes.”  She laughed. “Father wanted him to go to West Point like he did, but once we were out in Australia he couldn’t raise the fare back to America. He never made the lucky strike all gold prospectors dream of. I became a teacher. What about you, Luke?”

“There’s nothing much to tell.”

“Did you have a happy childhood?”

“Not particularly. I felt lonely as a child. I always had plenty of nursemaids, governesses and the like, but no other children. I was a loner, still am. I don't need people.”

“Have you ever really loved anyone?” She tensed, waiting to see if he would answer.

A bitter mask settled over his face, yet when he spoke his tones held no emotion.

“At seventeen, I fell in love with a beautiful girl. She had hair like black velvet, magnolia white skin. She would have been an artist's delight. Bloody young fool, I thought she was perfect, was mad for her.”

The lines gouged around his mouth deepened. “I would have done anything she wanted, given her everything I owned. She taunted me, let me kiss her, touch her breasts sometimes, but I wanted more. I got so desperate, I used to beg and plead. All to no avail. She wanted marriage, but my father withheld his consent.”

“What happened?” She couldn’t hide her curiosity.

“She finally gave my father what she wouldn't give to me and he got her with child.”  He gave a cruel, mirthless laugh. “When he dumped her for Lucille, she came back to me, begging for help and I told her to go to hell. You know something, she did. A week later they found her dead, threw herself in the river because she couldn't face the disgrace.”

“How terrible for you.” His shocking revelation chilled her to the bone.

“She was a conniving slut like Lucille.”

“Lucille?”

“My step mama. You've probably heard rumors my father caught me in bed with her.” 

Jo neither confirmed nor denied this.

“In a way it was true. She wasn't married to my father then, just his mistress. Lucille was little better than a harlot, only more expensive. Yes, I shared her bed.”

He wasn't boasting, in fact his voice sounded so flat and cold Jo shivered.

“My father bedded the girl I wanted, so I did the same to him. She was already pregnant with Tim when he married her. And no, Tim wasn’t mine.”

So, the rumors hadn’t been true. Why did she feel glad about that? “You brought Tim up?”

He shrugged. “I did the best I could with him. The boy came here after Lucille died.”

“Why didn’t they live here on your father’s property?”

“Kangaroo Gully is mine,” he interrupted harshly, bunching his hands into fists. “I bought my father out because he squandered a fortune on her.”

As if he regretted speaking of his past, he stood. “Time we were getting back.”

He drove the buggy slowly without speaking, and a glance at his profile showed it to be set into grim lines. His hands on the reins were clenched so tightly, Jo instinctively knew he fought some inward battle with himself. As they turned a bend in the road, the homestead came into view, surrounded by lush, majestic gardens.

“I think I like this view of your place best, it looks so, well, serene.”

He didn’t speak, just tapped the horse on the backside with the whip to increase its speed.

She alighted from the buggy at the front door, he headed towards the stables.

Later, as they ate their meal, his silence continued. The air of remoteness surrounding him became almost tangible.

Following their usual practice, they adjourned to the sitting room, still without speaking. To hell with him, she wouldn’t speak unless he did.

Finally she could stand it no longer. With a brief goodnight, she left the room.