Late in the afternoon, Madelaine watched as Fiona’s little car rattled and hummed down her steep driveway. She hadn’t been expecting her friend, but that didn’t matter. It was always great to see her, and, of course, Fiona’s Darcy.
By the time Madelaine got outside, Fiona had pulled up in the car park. She clambered out of the car and opened the back door.
As soon as Darcy saw Madelaine pulling faces at him, he squealed and gurgled and held his arms out to her.
Fiona hefted him out. “I swear he weighs three tonne. What am I feeding him?”
Madelaine laughed. “Here, let me.” She swung Darcy out of the car while Fiona, backside sticking out of the car, reached across to drag out his day bag.
“I’m thinking to put him on a diet, like only one boob per night instead of two.” She slid out of the car, huffing stray hairs out of her face.
“Yeww. Please.” Madelaine made a pop-eyed face at Darcy who gurgled again and grabbed her nose.
“Either that or I’ll run him behind the car when we come here.”
“Sure you will.” Madelaine bobbed Darcy on her hip some more. “He’d beat you here, your car’s that old.”
“Probably.” Fiona hoisted the bag. “You happy to carry him? I’ve got his kit, but I think I have the better deal—” She stopped a moment then looked up the hill at a white four wheel drive vehicle on the crest. “More company, but a bit late in the day.”
Madelaine followed Fiona’s gaze. “Wasn’t expecting anyone.” Darcy pulled handfuls of her hair and stuck his fingers into her ear.
“Tourists, probably,” Fiona said. “And typical, driving too fast down that hill.”
Madelaine squinted at the vehicle. “Oh no. Doesn’t anyone read the signs? Look, Fiona, take Darcy and—”
“Jesus crikey Moses.” Fiona dropped the baby bag. “They get any faster they’re gonna be airborne.” She grabbed Darcy from her friend and headed for the shelter of the garage.
Madelaine grabbed the bag and marched over to where Fiona stood with her baby, dumped the bag then marched back to the car park and waited, hands on hips.
“Not a good idea,” Fiona called.
“I have plenty of time,” Madelaine called back. “Jeez, déja-vu. How many times has this happened before?” The vehicle kept coming down the steep slope but at the bottom of the hill, its speed dropped away to a crawl. Clouds of dust followed for a few metres, then the air cleared.
By the time it had purred its way on to the flat landing of her car park, Madelaine recognized the driver, the unmistakable head of dark, sink-my-hands-in-it hair, the wonderful face under it, and the voice as he piped up out of the window.
“Thought I’d try this again, without the brake-fail and the wallaby poop. What do you think?”
He smiled, teeth gleaming, his eyes shaded by sunnies until he nudged them up on to his forehead. Those mocha chocolada eyes warmed every bit of her.
Madelaine’s heart clamoured. She blurted out a laugh. “Much better.”
“Thank the living lord,” Fiona yelled from the safety of the garage. “Thought we were about to be killed. Again. Was getting to be a habit.” She lugged Darcy back with her to Troy’s car. “So good to see you.”
Troy stepped out of the vehicle. He put his arms around Madelaine and gripped her in a hug. He scraped his cheek slowly along her neck. “I’ve missed you,” he said then let her go before she could respond. He turned and took the chuckling baby boy from Fiona. “And this little man … boy, have I missed him.” He held Darcy aloft and wriggled him. The baby squealed delightedly and reached down for Troy who lowered him to his chest. “Hey, chubby-chops.” Darcy snuggled in as Fiona stepped up for her hello kiss.
“But no beard scraping on my neck, thanks,” she said and turned an eye to see Madelaine reddening. Troy planted one on her cheek.
He still held on to Darcy whose interest in his chest hair was intense.
“Desperate for one of your coffees, Madds,” Troy said and winced only a little as Darcy grabbed a handful of hair.
Madelaine stood rooted to the spot. Here he was, her Troy, with her best friend’s baby in his arms as if it was a regular occurrence. Her heart bounced around as if it wasn’t anchored to anything and the heavy throb of a pulse crowded her breathing.
The wedding ring gleamed on his left hand. Her own wedding band, tucked into her bra on a silver chain, hummed against her skin.
“I’ll brew one up,” Fiona said and walked back towards the house. “Then I’ll be on my way.”
Madelaine dragged her gaze from man and boy, and followed Fiona. “You only just got here.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t staying. I’m going up to visit Cloudy. She hasn’t seen Darcy in ages.”
“Right.” Since when did Fiona visit Cloudy Bannon via her house? It was miles out of the way. Madelaine glanced over her shoulder to see Troy and Darcy jigging and dancing behind, on their way into the house.
He looked so good with that baby.
He just looked so good.
Fiona stalked around the house kitchen, setting up the plunger and the coffee grounds, boiling the kettle, grabbing the mugs—only two—setting the sugar and milk on the breakfast bench.
“Right. It’s all there, only need to fill with water and pour.” Fiona beamed at the pair of them, and sighed. “This is great.” She swung the baby bag over her shoulder and took Darcy from Troy. “Off we go.” Darcy giggled and gurgled on his mother’s hip all the way out the door, waving his arms at Troy.
A door slammed, an engine revved and the car was gone.
The kettle boiled. Madelaine poured water into the plunger. Thick and heady espresso filled the room.
Troy came around and took the kettle from her hand. “No weapons,” he said.
Madelaine laughed and pressed down the plunger instead. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Just a spur of the moment thing. Do you mind?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t mind.” She glanced at him. “You are a partner, after all. And you have stuff in a room here, and all that.”
“Not to mention that we’re married.”
Heat bloomed on her face. “Not to mention that.” She glanced again at the wedding band on his hand and brought a hand up to her neck, fiddled with the chain there. Then she took a deep breath and poured their coffee.
“I’d like to sit in the lounge, all right?”
“Sure,” she agreed. Madelaine handed him a cup and grabbed hers. She took a seat in a single armchair.
He sat on the settee, set his mug down on the table and sprawled on the lounge, lifted his arms behind his head and laced his hands. “I’ve decided travel can wait.”
“Oh. No pressing engagements, then?”
“Except one.” He remained relaxed. “I’ve decided that I am going to live here on Australis.”
Madelaine’s heart rate jumped and the pulse under her jaw throbbed. “Well, that’s all very—”
“With my wife. In this house.”
She sat on the edge of her seat. “Yes, but no-one—”
“I’ve decided that as I can’t get un-married for another couple of years, I can’t wait that long to take my wife out as if we weren’t married, and have her get to know me, and take things slowly, etcetera, so I’m just going to have to do it married to her. I figure if it was all right for the old boy, Petny, it’s all right for me.” He glanced across at her, then closed his eyes.
Madelaine stilled. He looked pretty comfortable with that big statement. “And what do you think Eva might have had to say about it all?”
He cocked open an eye. “I reckon she figured him out pretty early. And then they had fifty years. That’s a good go at it.”
Madelaine looked at her coffee, picked it up and sipped. She wanted to smile, but not yet. She wanted to laugh aloud, shout a laugh, in fact. But not yet. “Petny seems to have been an old bastard, by all accounts.”
“I’m not exactly an old bastard,” Troy said. “But I am hardy, I can turn my hand to most things, I cook—”
“Have fifty thousand billion dollars—”
“—I can provide a good couple of homes, servants, luxury carriages with plenty of horse-power, pigs and goats and chickens, and I can afford to give you gold coin for housekeeping.”
“Except for the feral stock lines, I’m tempted. Very attractive package.”
“The housekeeping, right?” Troy stayed on the lounge. He turned his head to gaze at her. “I can’t un-marry you, Madds, unless we divorce, but that can’t happen for nearly two years.” He sat upright then, clasping his hands at his knees. “But you know what? I don’t want that. I absolutely don’t.”
Madelaine’s breath disappeared.
“What I want,” he continued, “is for you to want the same as me. This marriage, this home and partnership, this life together. I want to be with you. I love you, I want to make love to you. I want to wake up with you every morning.”
Madelaine had to breathe but it seemed very difficult right at the moment.
He took up his coffee again. “I want to plant more garden here. I want to make more tour menus, bring more people here to our place and create an outdoor venue. I want to visit my cousins and have them visit us here. I want to see Fiona, and Darcy and anyone else you want. I want to be part of your life here. I want us to have a life here.”
Her breath came in small puffs. Her heartbeat was erratic, her coffee cup seemed to slip in her hands. She set it down on the table.
“And then next thing I want is for you to join me here,” he said, slapping the seat beside him. He shifted to allow her space on the settee. “But what do you want?”
“Well,” she said after a moment. “I wouldn’t mind joining you on the settee.”
He waited for her. Held his arm out for her to slide in against him. “I know you wear the wedding ring on a chain around your neck.”
“I didn’t want to be without it.” She drew the chain out from under her shirt and gazed at the heavy band dangling from it. “It would’ve been better to find out if we really liked each other before we got married.”
Troy took a lock of hair and wound it around a finger. “I certainly knew I really liked you.” He gathered more hair in his hand, mussed it softly. “Petny and Eva had to make the best of it, but we have different choices. And I’d still like to give it a go. I’d like us to do what they did, and make it work. Give the old folks a run for their money. So to speak.”
Madelaine rolled the wedding band in her fingers. “I’m worried.”
Troy dropped her hair and lifted the necklace over her head. He slipped the clasp and slid the ring from the chain. “Here.” He pushed it on to her wedding finger. “Looks good.”
It gleamed, and somehow she felt a warm glow all over.
“We can do the whole ceremony again, if you want. And I want to say this if we do… ‘in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, forsaking all others, till death us do part’.” His solemn gaze settled on her face.
“Oh.” Tears pricked her eyes. Madelaine leaned in to him some more, afraid he would see. “There’s so much we don’t know about each other.”
“Part of the journey.”
“If it doesn’t work…?”
“We won’t die wondering.”
Madelaine tucked her legs up under her. Troy gathered her closer still. “Your stuff is still in my bathroom,” she said, her heart thudding.
“Just as it should be.” He rested his head on hers. “And I’m looking forward to a long, hot shower.”
Her pulse pounded a happy dance. “After dinner?”
“I should be able to wait that long.”
He seemed happy to sit with her, but Madelaine felt her own steam rating edge up a few notches. “I don’t know I can wait that long.”
He let her go a little and looked at her. “You remember the elevator in the hotel before I found out you were going to be my dearly betrothed?”
She laughed at that. “Yes, I remember.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the mouth. Then he said, “I’m kinda feeling like that.” He kissed her again. “Or after we got married and we sat here on the settee? I’m kinda feeling like that.”
She held his wrists, kissed him back, long and slow and inviting. “Me, too,” she murmured in between kisses. “I think that means we’re going to jump each other’s bones this time.”
“Yep. But I want more of this first.” He dragged her on to his lap and slipped his hands under her top, brushed her breasts with his fingers. “More of how you feel in my hands. How I’m going to get you out of your clothes and carry you over my shoulder to the shower.” He pulled the top off over her head, reached around and snapped open her bra.
Fingertips played with her nipples, his mouth sank over one, then the other. Her belly squeezed, and warmth rushed through her, tingling and zinging. When she came up for air, she said, “Think we might be done here in the lounge…time for the bathroom.” She reached around for her top to hold in front of her.
“Think you’re right.” He slid her to her feet, took her hand and headed for their bedroom. “One thing, though,” he began, looking back at her.
She tottered along behind him, her legs not really moving properly. “What’s that?”
He flashed his big, warm grin at her. “You don’t sing in the shower, do you?”