Fiery Possession (34 page)

“My baby, my baby.  She's got my baby,” Jo screamed, struggling to get up, but strong hands held her down.

“Stop it.”  The harsh sound of Luke's voice stilled her desperate struggles for a moment. “Where's the boy?  Where is he?”

“She took Mark.”

“For God's sake, who took him?”

Pain caused her to moan in agony.

“She took him.”  Her eyes started closing. “Someone stole Mark.”  A sharp slap on her cheek brought Jo to full consciousness again.

“Who?”

“Cassandra.”

Cassandra kidnapped Mark and she had to save him. She fought to sit up, but the hard hands held her down.

“I'll take her to the house first.” Luke issued his orders. “You stay with the herd. I'll send word if I need any of you.”

Once mounted, one of the men handed Jo up to him. He supported her in the circle of his arms.

She looked white as death. Her tangled hair was encrusted with blood, yet still managed to spill over his shirt like molten gold. The wound appeared severe, an inch or two lower, and it would have proved fatal. He shuddered. What the hell had happened at the Saunders homestead?  Cassandra was unstable, but surely not capable of murder.

He urged the horse on. Faster and faster they galloped until the house came into view. His yells even before he dismounted brought Mrs. Osborne and one of the maids rushing out.

“Mr. Campton, what happened?”

He didn't answer until he had carried Jo inside and laid her on the couch.

“Have you seen my wife?” he demanded.

“No, well, what I mean is,” Mrs. Osborne blustered. “Mrs. Campton took a buggy out, said she wanted to visit a friend.”

“And you let her go?”

“I'm not her jailer, Sir.”

“See to Jo, will you please?  Send one of the men into town for the police and a doctor. I have to find Cassandra. Check with the other servants, try to find out if they know where she might go.”

“But, Mr. Campton...”

“Do it,” he snarled. “She's taken the baby, shot Jo, and God knows what else she's capable of.”

He watched the color fade from the housekeeper's face, but had no mercy. Rage surged through him. His son and heir in the hands of someone as emotional and unstable as Cassandra, he shuddered thinking about the consequences.

His men conducted a through search of the house and grounds. The stable hand reported that the buggy hadn’t been returned. Where the hell would she go?  He had no idea what she did during the day or night either, for that matter. She could never fire his desire as Jo did, but she was his wife, damn it all.

“If the boy's harmed, I'll kill her,” he raged, each time someone reported in. It soon became obvious they would have to search further afield. If they weren't found by nightfall he hated to dwell on the … How long could a baby survive without being fed?

  In desperation, he sent down to the aboriginal encampment for a black tracker. While he waited for the man to arrive he went in to see Jo. Her pale skin looked almost transparent, emphasizing the nasty scratches on her cheeks. Her eyes, though closed, showed bruising beneath the lids, and her hair, that glorious hair, splayed out over his pillow. He reached out to brush a curling tendril from her face and hooked it behind her ear.

She was young and healthy, so she would not die. But if something happened to their child?  He clenched his fist.  Why in the hell didn't they hurry up?

Jo looked vulnerable lying there in the bed where they had shared such a fiery passion. Sitting down, he picked up one of her hands and ran his thumb across her palm. He had a sudden overwhelming desire to wake her, to apologize for humiliating and degrading her.

He dropped her hand and stood up. He groaned as memories of what they had shared here in this room flooded his mind. Even he could not go against convention and have her living under the same roof as his wife. Why hadn't she let him get them another place?  Money would have been no object. He would have lavished everything on his wild, beautiful Jo.

At the thought of Cassandra, he ground his teeth. He didn't care what she did to herself, but the boy!  He had big plans for him. Every man wanted an heir and he was no different, especially now with Tim gone. No one would dare call the son of Luke Campton a bastard once he installed the boy here.

Jo moaned. Running one finger along her cheek, he was surprised to find it damp. He kissed her soft sweet lips, shocked at the sudden surge of desire this simple act aroused in him. Mrs. Osborne had bandaged her shoulder and administered some laudanum, as it would be hours before the doctor arrived. He paced the floor with mounting anxiety. Where the hell were they?

When the men returned with the black tracker, Luke mounted his horse and the aboriginal loped along in front of him. They tracked the buggy to the Saunders place, then followed the wheel marks on the ground. Cassandra headed towards the hill country.

“White misuses come this way,” the black youth explained in a singsong voice.

She had many hours start on them and could be miles away by now. Where the hell would she go?

After a couple of hours they spied the buggy in a clearing. When he suggested they send back for more men, the aboriginal became agitated.

“Too many white fella trample the signs.”

Luke nodded, respecting the man’s knowledge.

The country became rougher. In parts the bush grew in an impenetrable wall and he cursed furiously. He noticed they had been going around in circles, even before the black tracker pointed it out. They were on the roughest part of Kangaroo Gully, so hilly and boulder strewn he had never bothered to clear it.

“White missus know she be followed.”

He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“No can trick Billy. See, she come this way plenty times before.” He pointed to a barely discernable track.

Where the hell would she go?  The hills around here were riddled with caves. Even a whole army could disappear and never be found.

They met up with one of the stock hands and two mounted police.

“I couldn't get the doctor for Miss Saunders, boss, he's out of town,” the man reported.

On a drinking binge, more likely, Luke thought savagely.

“Mrs. Osborne said to tell you Mrs. Campton told one of the maids about a place in the hills where the fairies play.” 

The police troopers snickered.

He recalled there was a waterfall not far away and he strode toward it. Ten minutes later they came to the river, swirling and racing along, fed by water from further up in the mountains.

“No go there.”  Billy's eyes rounded in fear. “Bad place.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” He cursed as the youth disappeared into the scrub.

A fallen tree lay halfway across the river and Luke’s blood ran cold. For the first time in his life he knew the sickening, gut-wrenching sensation of real fear.

Barefooted, hugging the crying baby against her breast, Cassandra pirouetted on the log.

“Cassandra,” he yelled above the roaring turbulence of the water.

She did not even glance at him, just kept up the frenzied dancing. He started pulling off his boots.

“What are you doing, Mr. Campton?” one of the police asked.

“I'm going down there to get them, even if I have to swim. I’ve lost my brother, I don’t intend losing my son.”

“You'll drown if you fall in.”

“I'm a strong swimmer.”

He slid down the bank. When his feet touched the fallen trunk Cassandra screamed. “Go away!  Go away.”

“Give me the baby.”

“No. He's my baby. I won't let you have him. I'll jump if you come any closer.”

What should he do now?  “Come on, let's go home. I've brought you some nice presents from town, a pretty gown and a new bonnet with flowers and ribbons on it.”

“Did not.”

“Give me the baby.”

Her feet slipped on the mossy log. He lunged to grab her. She teetered. Dropped the child into the turbulent water. “Oh God. No!” He dived into the raging torrent.

The current dragged him out toward the middle where the water swirled for a few yards, before cascading twenty feet on to rocks below. In two strokes he grabbed hold of the baby's nightgown as it billowed out, and he pulled him against his chest. Treading water for a moment, he watched the child giving choking spluttering cries. Still alive, thank heaven.

Holding Mark out of the water, he swam sideways towards the bank. He heard an ear-splitting scream above the roar of the water. Cassandra was washed towards him. As she swept past, he grabbed hold of her skirt, but she fought him. In that split second he knew there were only two choices. He could try to save both of them, which meant they would probably all three drown, or he could sacrifice his wife so his son would live. Even now the freezing water numbed his limbs.

He cast a desperate glance at the watchers on the bank, no chance of getting help from them. Tom could not swim, and the police apparently were not prepared to risk their lives.

He loosened his grip on Cassandra's skirt. Without glancing back, he headed towards the shallow water, propelling himself along with one hand, holding the baby in the other.

In the shallow water, Tom waded out to meet him. He took the baby and Luke turned to go back for Cassandra.

“It's no good, boss,” Tom said. “She's gone over the falls.”

One of the troopers helped them out. Luke stood shivering while someone retrieved his shirt.

“You did all you could, Mr. Campton,” the policeman said. “It's a wonder you were even able to save the child.”

“Take the baby back to the house, Tom, the police can help me retrieve my wife's body. Seeing as they didn't have the guts to come in and help me,” he added savagely.

***

Jo tossed and turned in a nightmare world. Luke hated her, that's why he’d taken Mark. No, Cassandra stole him. The dreams came and went. Sometimes she felt herself drifting away, but always someone called her back. She was so tired, if only she could rest, but the voice never let up. Sometimes it sounded angry, other times pleading. She wanted to tell it to go away and leave her in peace, but the words would not come out.

She opened her eyes and for the first time the room did not swim or tilt.

“You're awake now, Miss Jo?”

She blinked. “Mrs. Osborne, what am I doing here?”  They were in the room she had shared with Luke all those months ago. Her eyes filled with tears, he didn't even care enough to see whether she lived or died.

“Mark! Mark!”  She tried to raise herself on the pillow, and her whole body burned.

“He's doing well. I'll tell Mr. Campton you're awake.”

“He doesn't care about me.” Luke’s desertion hurt more than the bullet wound. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly to stop them escaping.

“Miss Jo, he's hardly slept in five days, been by your bed most of the time.”

“Five days?”  She tried moving her arm and moaned in pain. “Cassandra?”

“You're not to worry, everything is all right now.” She soothed before moving away. “I have to tell Mr. Campton you're awake.”

Jo closed her eyes for a moment. They felt heavy as lead and if she kept them closed it might blot out the horror of the dreams, the voices.

“Mrs. Osborne said you’d woken up.”

She opened her eyes and Luke's face hovered close by. He was pale beneath his usual tan, deep grooves ran along the sides of his mouth, and his scar stood out vividly. He looked gaunt and haggard.

“Is Mark all right?”

“Yes.” He sat down on the bed.

“Can I see him?” Jo blinked back tears.

“Later, when you're stronger.”

“I want to see him now.”

“He's all right. Can't you take my word for it?”

“Mrs. Osborne said I've been here five days. Who’s been feeding him?” she asked frantically.

“The wife of one of my stockmen, so calm down.”

“I have to see him, to make sure.” She struggled into a sitting position.

“For God's sake, do you want your wound to open up?  I'm telling you he's all right. The woman has a child about the same age so she's been suckling the two of them.”

“How can anyone feed two babies?” She flopped down against the pillows. She didn’t have the strength to sit up.

“How the hell should I know? I give you my word he's all right.”

“You don't have to yell at me.”  Tears filled her eyes.

“All right, all right, I'm sorry.”  He squatted down next to the bed, picked up one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “I've always wanted you, Jo, right from the very beginning. I kept telling myself it was only lust. I treated you harshly because I suppose I feared the emotions you aroused in me. I blamed you for Tim’s death, but deep down I always knew his uncontrollable behavior would end in tragedy.”

Her tears fell faster now. As he wiped them away with his thumb, more followed.

“I've really hated you sometimes, Luke.”