Rose's Vintage (36 page)

‘She's really gone,' Mark reassured her later that day. ‘We've talked and agreed it's all over.'

Rose was still not convinced. ‘Are you sure? What does that mean for us, if anything?'

‘It means I'm free of her,' he said simply. ‘She's the kids' mother, I can never take that away from her, but that's it.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes, I'm sure Rose. Trust me when I say that it's you that I want to be with. That is, if you'll have a jaded old bugger like me.' he grinned wryly.

He looked so sincere – and she really wanted to believe him. She cast her doubts aside and let herself be pulled into his arms, any lingering resistance weakening as his lips touched hers.

CHAPTER 36

W
hen it finally happened, it was every bit as spectacular as she'd hoped it would be. The tension of the previous months had left Rose feeling like a dam waiting to burst. The evening after Isabella had gone, after dinner, and when the kids were safely in bed, Mark knocked softly on the door of the barn. Jake was away in Eumeralla with Angie, and they weren't likely to be disturbed.

No words were needed. Passion sparked in Rose from the moment Mark touched her, pulling her towards him and down onto the sofa. He tore at her clothes: buttons flew and her shirt fell in a heap on the floor. Reaching around to unhook her bra, Mark gasped as he took in the sight of her. Rose pulled his mouth back to hers, already missing the feel of his skin.

‘Don't fight me,' he groaned. Wrenching himself away once more, he gently trailed a line of kisses along her breasts, then down towards her taut stomach and continuing on down. He pulled aside the lace of her knickers and explored the very centre of her with his mouth. A white heat engulfed her. She was beyond coherent thought as waves of pleasure pulsed through her, right to the very ends of her toes and the tips of her fingers.

Rose dragged his shirt off, exposing the wide brown expanse of his broad back, and the fine pelt of hair across his chest. She pulled him back towards her and kissed him hungrily. He raised himself above her, waiting.

‘Are you sure?' Mark asked.

Are you freaking kidding me? What does this look like to you?

She didn't need to answer. She kissed him with all the pent-up longing of the past months, pressing every inch of herself into him. Reaching down, she grasped him, feeling him pulse beneath her hand and hearing his sharp intake of breath. She slowly moved her hand up and down, enjoying the solidness of him, the size of him, gently teasing him.

They rolled over so that she was above him and lowered herself onto him, riding him. They began to move rhythmically, slowly at first and then urgently, until the pleasure was almost too much to bear. Rose felt as if she were being drawn into a vortex, unable to escape the whorl of sensations that he was creating in her body, spinning almost out of control.

Rose was almost at the point of no return, when Mark stopped her and reached down for his jeans, fumbling for a pocket. He ripped open the square foil packet with his teeth and Rose helped him unroll it.

Slowly, gently, staring deeply into her eyes, Mark entered her again. Rose became oblivious to her surroundings as they rocked in an urgent rhythm, hip to hip, chest to chest. Waves of glorious pleasure began to wash over her and she was once again sucked into the vortex, spinning out of control. High on a precipice together, they came crashing down as the unrelenting force overtook them both. ‘Ohhh, God,' she cried, as she came.

‘Wow. That was pretty amazing,' said Mark as he got his breath back. ‘Better than winning the Jimmy Watson.'

Rose gave him a disbelieving look.

‘Well, it was up there with that, in any case,' he said with a bark of laughter.

‘It was certainly worth waiting for, no doubt about that,' sighed Rose, utterly sated.

She fell asleep in his arms.

After that, they spent every evening together. Their nights were passionate, sweet and loving, but Rose began to suffer from lack of sleep, often yawning her way through her morning chores. She didn't know how Mark kept up the pace he did, heading off to the winery at sunrise every morning.

She felt drunk with love. Her eyes lit up whenever she saw him come through the door at the end of the day, and he always greeted her with a kiss, even in front of the kids. He hadn't said anything to them officially, but even Leo seemed to have taken the situation completely in his stride.

Rose had never been happier. She'd also never been busier. Ferment had taken off, as word spread through the valley and beyond. She'd even had a visit recently from Betty and Merle and the other CWA ladies, who'd all exclaimed over her muffins and wouldn't leave until she'd given them the recipe. Henry was still in Spain, and had stopped demanding updates.

Life, at last, was good.

vintage

noun

the act of gathering ripe grapes from a particular annual harvest; an exceptionally fine wine from the crop of a good year

CHAPTER 37

T
he unrelenting summer heat continued, with the grapes growing round and fat, just as Astrid's belly did. The vines' shrouds of white netting were dropped on the ground like discarded undies.

‘When do you think you'll be ripe, Astrid?' said Leo one day as they were guzzling lemonade in the shade of the verandah.

‘Not for a while, I hope,' she replied, sitting down heavily and fanning herself. ‘Though I can't imagine getting any bigger, or any hotter.'

The grapes, however,
were
very close to being ripe, and Mark announced over dinner with Rose that vintage would start in a few days' time. ‘I don't think this weather will hold out much longer, and we can't risk any late-season heavy rains splitting the grapes,' he said. ‘I'm afraid you won't be seeing much of me for the next six weeks or so. Dan, Jake and I will be working round the clock during vintage. There'll also be a gang of pickers coming in from Eumeralla every day. And Rose,' he paused, ‘I'll need you to organise smoko and lunch for everyone. Mrs B can fill you in on what'll need to be done.'

Rose's heart sank at the thought of the extra work. She was already busy enough with Ferment. And she was in the strange position of being both Mark's lover and his employee. At times like this, it was awkward. ‘I don't remember this being part of the deal. It's going to cost you, Mark,' she said, making light of her pique.

‘Whatever you want, sweetheart, but we really need to keep these guys fed so we can get the grapes in on time, so your help will be much appreciated.'

‘Whatever I want, hey?' a cheeky smile played about Rose's face. ‘Let me have a think about that one … I might be able to think of a way for you to express that appreciation,' she teased.

‘Alright, but whatever it is will have to be after vintage.' Mark's tone turned serious. She knew this was a crucial time for him and the vineyard, and that there would be plenty of hard work and long hours in the weeks to come.

Rose had been welcoming visitors to the cellar door cafe every weekend in ever-growing numbers. It was with a shock that she realised one evening, while checking her diary, that she'd been at Kalkari for more than six months. She was alarmed at how fast the time was passing. She wasn't ready to leave the valley. In fact, if she was totally honest with herself, she didn't think she'd ever be ready to leave.