Somehow it worked. Against the realistic expectations of both participants in the truce, Nathan and Lydia were holding their own. Without ever discussing how they would practice their loving deception on the rest of Ballaburn, they arrived at a plan that helped them avoid difficult explanations and tempting situations.
In spite of the fact that Brigham never arrived at Ballaburn, Nathan made it a point to work within sight of the house. He did not trust Brig not to announce himself suddenly and turn the entire station on its head. He wanted to be close to Lydia when that happened. Lydia had no objections to Nathan stationing himself near the house. She found herself wandering to the windows, searching him out to reassure herself half a dozen times during the day. It was a satisfactory arrangement now, while the sheep were still at pasture, but as spring approached they would have to be mustered for shearing and Nathan would start to travel farther afield. Lydia already knew she would be going out with Nathan on those occasions. If he thought she was afraid to stay at the house without him, he might agree to take her along.
Lydia tried not to dwell on Brigham or the reasons he had chosen not to come to Ballaburn. Her task was made easier by the demands Irish placed on her attention. He rarely asked for anything from her outright, but Lydia realized she was gradually assuming more and more responsibility for the things he wanted done. They worked daily on cataloguing the books in the library. He showed her how the accounts for the station were kept, how the revenue from the gold mines supported Ballaburn in lean years. She learned where the important papers were, had access to all of the station’s earnings and receipts, and was finally given the task of doing the payroll. Warming to Irish’s confidence in her abilities, Lydia was the only one surprised that she showed such aptitude. Over her bent head, as she worked on the accounts, Irish and Nathan exchanged glances that were at once pleased and amused.
“He’s grooming you to take control of Ballaburn,” Nathan told her one evening after Irish had gone to bed. He put down the book he was reading and crossed the study to where Lydia was working at the desk. Pushing one of the ledgers aside, Nathan rested his hip on the edge and casually leaned over her work.
Lydia’s brow creased as she concentrated on the lines of figures in front of her. Nathan’s shadow had fallen across the pages. “You’re blocking my light,” she said, waving him aside absently. “How can I know what I’m doing if I can’t—” The book was closed over her hand. “Nathan.”
“Nathan,” he mocked, using her tone precisely.
Lydia laughed and slipped her hand out from between the pages. She glanced at the cherry wood grandfather clock standing in one corner of the room. “My, it’s late. I hadn’t realized.”
“I know.”
It had been her practice each of the eight evenings since returning to Ballaburn to make her way to bed first. She would set out Nathan’s blankets and pillow, make certain there was fresh water in the basin for him, and turn back all the lamps but the one on his highboy dresser. He always gave her adequate time to prepare for bed herself before he came into the room. Lydia could have easily fallen asleep in that time, though she never did. Instead, she buried herself deep in the cool sheets and thick woolen blankets and pretended restfulness where none existed.
Lydia believed Nathan was probably aware she wasn’t sleeping, but he never mentioned it. Just as she never mentioned that although he said his sleeping accommodations were fine, she knew he tossed and turned on the hard floor. There were things better left unsaid, and privately they believed it was what made being together bearable. Or almost bearable. Neither of them thought for a moment that not talking about the tension between them made it nonexistent, but talking about it would have led to doing something, and that was the very thing they wanted to avoid.
“If you’re tired, I’ll go up now,” she said. She started to push away from the desk, but Nathan’s foot caught the seat of her chair and stayed her.
“If I’m tired, I can go up first. The sky won’t fall if we vary our routine a little.” His smile was faint. “As it happens, I’m not tired. I was going to go in the kitchen and make myself a cuppa. Would you like some?”
“Please. And if you can find any of Molly’s honey biscuits in there...”
“I’ll bring a feast,” he promised solemnly.
Nathan was as good as his word. Returning from the kitchen fifteen minutes later, he laid out a smorgasbord of treats in front of the fireplace and bid Lydia join him. She put her work away again and sat beside him on the edge of the woolen rug. Her dark blue skirt was spread around her as Lydia drew her legs to one side. She smoothed the folds and began to pick and choose among the cold meats, bread, and sweets that Nathan had brought.
“What did you mean by Irish grooming me to take control of Ballaburn?” she asked. “You weren’t serious, were you?”
“Very serious.” He poured himself a cup of tea. “Do you really doubt that’s what’s going on?”
“I’ve never thought about it. Ballaburn will be yours someday.”
“And yours through me. Irish doesn’t realize you intend to leave at the end of a year. He wants you to have a part in the success of the station. What he’s teaching you to do now could well give you complete control.”
“That’s absurd, Nathan.”
“Not so absurd when you realize that I don’t know the first thing about the accounting procedures. Irish has always kept that part of running the station to himself. I know everything about Ballaburn as far as its livestock and lands go. I can muster and shear and shoot and track, but what you’ve been doing most of this week I can’t do at all.” Turning his attention toward the fire, Nathan sipped his tea. “Someday I’ll have to hire someone who knows the things you know and hope like bloody hell they don’t cheat me.”
“I could teach you.” Or I could stay, she thought.
Or you could stay, he thought. “I’d like that,” he said. “It wouldn’t have to be everything. Just enough so no one makes a fool of me.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said.
Her quick defense of him made Nathan smile. He watched her eyes stray to his dimples and the heat he saw in their depths was warmer than the fire. He looked away quickly, his smile fading. “I think Brig’s doing just that,” he said. “I don’t kid myself that he’s not somewhere around here.”
“You mean here at Ballaburn? How can that be? No one’s said anything.”
Nathan shook his head, angry at himself for bringing up the subject. Confronted with the sultry heat in Lydia’s eyes, knowing she didn’t mean for him to see it, he had said the first thing that came to his mind. “I don’t know that anyone else suspects. Some of the stockmen are reporting damage that could be animals…or could be bushrangers. A mob of sheep were maneuvered onto a ridge just west of here and chased over the edge into the gully. Wild dogs would explain it. So would Brig. I thought I might go out to Lion’s Ridge tomorrow and see if Brig’s staked out his property. He’s entitled to the land from the ridge to Willaroo Valley. He may have decided to camp there.”
“Don’t go,” Lydia said quickly. Her appetite fled at the thought of Nathan going out to find Brigham. “That is…um…couldn’t you send someone else? Jack would go for you.”
“Of course Jack would go, but I…What is it, Lydia? Do you think Brig’s waiting for me to leave so he can come here?”
It had never occurred to her. “It’s possible, isn’t it?”
Certainly it was possible, he thought. Anything was possible with Brig. The thing that worried Nathan was that he didn’t understand what Brigham was doing. If he was guilty of the attacks on Ballaburn, what was the purpose? If he wasn’t responsible, then where was he? Why hadn’t he returned home?
“I won’t go,” he said. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll send Jack and Pooley out to look over the property.”
“Thank you. It does make me feel better.”
“You know, Lydia, I really don’t think Brig’s going to do anything here at the house. He’s not going to want to reveal his true colors to Irish.”
“Perhaps he already has,” Lydia said. “Irish rarely mentions Brigham. If he finds his absence from Ballaburn odd, he has yet to say so. Sometimes I wonder…I don’t know…it’s hard to make sense of it all.”
“You don’t make sense. What is it that you wonder?”
“Well, I’ve asked myself if we haven’t overestimated Irish’s esteem and affection for Brigham. Perhaps he really does believe that Brig’s capable of everything I told him.”
“Then why hasn’t he discarded the second will and ended the wager? Or are you saying Irish really wants Brig to have Ballaburn?”
“No!”
“Then what?”
Lydia studied her hands in her lap. Unconsciously she massaged the place where her wedding ring had been. Irish told her she hadn’t earned it back yet. “If he ended the wager there would be no reason for me to be here. You would be entitled to Ballaburn outright and I would be perfectly free to choose where I wanted to live. I know Irish hated it when I went to Sydney. I think he may have used events to his advantage. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“He has no reason to think you’re ever going to leave me,” Nathan said. “You’ve played your part of the loving wife to perfection these past eight days.”
“Perhaps neither of us is the actor we think we are,” she said quietly. “Irish may be seeing right through our charade.”
Nathan was silent, thoughtful. He added some tea to his cup and warmed his palms around it. “It’s something to think about, isn’t it,” he said at last.
“Yes.” Lydia began to organize things on the tray Nathan had brought in.
“Leave it,” he said. “I’ll take it all back to the kitchen. You go on up to bed.’
Lydia’s busy, fluttering hands stilled. She avoided looking at Nathan in the event he was looking at her. “All right.” Getting to her feet, Lydia smoothed her gown across her abdomen. “Will you be very long?” she asked.
“Long enough.”
Not certain she wanted to know what that meant, Lydia carried herself off to bed.
“Bail up, mates!”
The Cobb & Co. coach was already slowing down when the order to halt was given. Three men on horseback blocked the narrow road and a quick look over his shoulder assured the driver a fourth man was coming at the coach from behind. The driver dropped his reins and held up his hands as the order was repeated. The man riding shotgun put down his weapon without firing.
The bushrangers were a scrubby lot, heavily bearded, and four of them riding together gave rise to speculation among the Cobb & Co. passengers. The most famous highwaymen in Australia were the Kelly gang and four made up their number. They did whatever struck their fancy: looting, ravaging, drinking to excess, and dancing till dawn with an entire town they held captive. They were also murderers. As much as they were admired by the general population for their daring and defiance, no one particularly wanted to be on the wrong end of their pistols.
The Cobb & Co. riders were almost obsequious in their efforts to give the bushrangers what they wanted. The strongbox containing mail and money was handed over quickly. The passengers filed out of the coach and stood quietly in line while they were stripped of their valuables. In a few minutes they were herded back inside, a shot was fired, and the coach was on its way again, each rider formulating the tale that would be related again and again about the encounter with the infamous Kelly gang.
After the coach was out of sight Brig shot open the lock on the strongbox. “You blokes can have whatever you like when I’m done,” he said, rummaging through the contents.
“It was as easy as you said it would be, mate,” one of them said. “We were as game as Ned Kelly.”
Behind Brig’s heavy beard and mustache he sneered. “Don’t let it go to your head. They thought we were the Kelly gang. Why do you think I asked only three of you to help? And you there, Zach, with your black beard and brows, look as like a Kelly as Ned himself.” There was dead silence from his helpers as they considered the import of Brig’s observation. “Right,” Brig said, rising. He held up an envelope. “I’ve got what I want. The rest is yours. I think you know not to brag about this incident. Kelly may hear of it and wonder why he’s not a richer man for his exploits. G’day, gentlemen.” Mounting his horse, Brig cut a path into the bush and disappeared over the crest of a hill.
While the horses were being exchanged, the passengers talked excitedly in the large kitchen at Ballaburn, recounting their face-to-face experience with the Kelly gang. Lydia helped Tess and Molly serve refreshments and listened as avidly as they to the tales being shared. Irish wheeled in his chair from the hallway and Nathan came in the back door, the coach driver at his side. As the driver moved further into the room, Lydia went to stand beside her husband.
“He’s told you what happened?” she asked in hushed tones.
Nathan nodded. He put his arm around Lydia’s waist and drew her closer to his side. Above her head his expression was troubled. After a few minutes of listening to the passengers, Nathan bent his head and whispered against Lydia’s ear, “Come outside with me a moment.”
Lydia followed Nathan out of the house. The day was cloudy and breezy and she batted at her gown to keep it from billowing all around her. Nathan offered her his jacket, which she didn’t accept. “A moment, you said,” she reminded him. “What is so important that we need talk about it out here?”
“This isn’t Kelly country, Lydia. Ned’s gang raids towns farther south of here. If those passengers want to think they’ve been held up by Ned Kelly, then let them, but I don’t believe it.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that as long as I’ve known Brig he’s always had a fancy to play the highwayman. ‘We’ll have two pops and a galloper,’ he used to tell me.” At Lydia’s blank look he explained, “Two pistols and a horse.”
Lydia pushed back a strand of hair that blew across her face. “Brig? One of the highwaymen was Brig? Nathan, you can’t know that.”
She was right, of course. He couldn’t know it with complete certainty and now he regretted sharing his supposition with Lydia. She would never comprehend Brigham the way he did, never appreciate that it wasn’t intuition that guided him now, but a deep understanding of how Brigham worked when his back was to the wall and desperation made him reckless. Nathan felt his own choices dwindling. He was going to have to face Brig and settle what was between them. It was the only way he could protect Lydia.
“You’re right,” he said, his expression shuttered. He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Go on back inside. You can tell me all their stories later. I have work to do.” He strode off without giving her a chance to question his easy capitulation.
Lydia wandered back in the kitchen and stood at the periphery of the excited chatter. The coach driver moved aside to let her in the circle. She shook her head, smiling. “I’m fine where I am.”
“I’m sorry about your letter, Mrs. Hunter,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we’ll find it later. Not likely that Kelly and his bunch wanted more than the money in the strongbox.”
“Letter?” asked Lydia. “There was something for me on the coach?”
The driver nodded. “I mentioned it to Mr. Hunter. Just happened to see there was something for you when they put the mail on at Sydney. Like I said, we’ll probably find it later. Ned was after the money, not much doubt about that. He won’t take what he has no use for.”
“I’m certain you’re right,” she said, and then hesitated. “I don’t suppose you noticed where my letter came from? Did it originate in Sydney?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. That’s why I was upset that we lost it. I supposed this was something important for you. The stamp is what caught my eye in the first place. The letter came all the way from San Francisco.”
The passengers were all gone by dinner and the wave of excitement had vanished with them. Irish and Lydia were eating alone in the dining room, neither of them having the inclination to wait for Nathan, especially when Molly put the hot food in front of them and ordered them to eat.
Lydia heaped Irish’s plate with Molly’s special dish of rabbit with cherry sauce, potatoes, and green beans and onions. “I’ve noticed you’ve had a better appetite lately,” she said when he stared at the plate she laid in front of him. “It won’t hurt to indulge a little.”
“Trying to fatten me up?”
“Fill you out,” she countered. Her eyes darted over his face, noting the sallowness of his complexion, the hint of gauntness in his broad features. The robust man she had known a few short months ago was fading in front of her eyes. Conspiring with Molly to stimulate Irish’s appetite was hardly helping. His spirits were good, but pain was a thin white line around his mouth and permanently engraved at the corners of his eyes.
He puffed his cheeks, got the laughing response he wanted from Lydia, and began to eat. “Nathan’s going to be sorry he missed this meal,” he said after a while.
“I’ll have Molly put aside something for him. He can eat later this evening.”
“I don’t think he’ll be back tonight. I heard Jack tell Tess that he’s gone up to Lion’s Ridge.”
“What?” Lydia’s head snapped up and her fork hovered in midair. She forced herself to relax. “You must be mistaken. He told me last night that he was going to send Jack and Pooley up there. Jack must have meant he was going, not Nathan. Nathan’s still out repairing fences with Billy and Ed. I saw him leave with them earlier this afternoon.”
“But he didn’t return with them. Billy and Ed are eating dinner with the other hands right now. Where are you going? Lydia? Come back—”
“I’ll just be a moment,” she said without turning around. “I want to find Tess.”
Lydia never returned to the dining room. When she found out from Tess that Irish hadn’t mistaken what he’d overheard, she went in search of Jack. After extracting his promise to escort her to Lion’s Ridge, Lydia went to her own room and began packing. Irish caught up with her again as she was hurrying down the main staircase. She had already changed into a split riding skirt and boots and was carrying a bedroll and saddlebag stuffed with a change of clothes, personal items, and a Remington revolver. She had thrown a jacket around her shoulders and her hair was pulled back and tied at her nape with a black velvet ribbon. The hat on her head was a shade too large for her head and the wide brim rested on the upper curve of her ears.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, blocking her way with his chair. She tried to sidestep him, but Irish wheeled around quickly and blocked her again. “I think I have a right to know where you’re going.”
“To Lion’s Ridge. I’m going to find Nathan.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Yes, bloody hell!” she shot back. “Jack’s agreed to show me the way. I’m not so foolish as to set off alone at night.”
“I’ll order him to stay here.”
“Then I will go off on my own, Irish. I want to be with Nathan.”
Irish’s thick fingers gripped the arms of his chair as he took measure of Lydia’s threat. Finally he wheeled out of her way. “All right,” he said. “Go. Take Jack and Pooley with you.”
Lydia released the breath she had been holding and came down the last step to the landing. “Thank you, Irish.” She bent then, and did something she had never done before: she kissed him. Her lips brushed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll explain everything when I get back.”
The hallway was empty by the time Irish found his voice. “By God, you do love him.” Rolling his chair into the study, Irish found his strongbox and opened it. He removed two wills, glanced at them both, then tore up one, hoping to God he had not left it for too late.
The ride to Lion’s Ridge was as arduous as Jack had warned Lydia. Her escorts rode on either side of her when it was possible, but there were many times when the trails narrowed and single file was the only way to pass. The horses were sure-footed yet they grew restless and shied on some of the rocky sandstone ledges they were forced to negotiate. Jack led the way, carrying a lantern. The light was bright enough for him to see his breath misting in the cool evening air. He did not need another reminder of how cold it was going to get. Behind him he heard Lydia’s teeth chattering.
Where there was forest it was thick with the evergreen gum trees. Starshine and moonlight were often obliterated by the spreading crowns of the eucalypts. The forest floor was littered with stiffened strings of bark the trees had shed the previous spring and summer. Beneath the horses’ hooves, the ground crackled and sometimes the brush would snap loudly as a kangaroo was startled by their approach and leaped to safety.
They rode for several hours and Lydia stoically bore the silent censure of both her companions, not caring in the least whether or not they approved. Neither did she tell them anything that might have led them to a different conclusion about her journey. The business of Ballaburn that pitted Brig and Nathan against each other was a private matter, not meant for speculation by the stockmen. She didn’t want to think about them choosing sides behind the man they wanted to head Ballaburn in Irish’s place.
Jack reined in his horse and pointed a small flickering light in the distance. “That’s probably Nath, Mrs. Hunter.”
“Probably?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Who can tell? It’s Lion’s Ridge, that much I know. You can’t tell now, but in daylight it’s golden sandstone with a slope carved out like a lion’s mane. Your husband’s up there or it’s bushrangers. We’ll go quiet as we can from here. No need to make ourselves known until we’re certain.” Raising the lantern, he blew it out, and night surrounded them like a shroud.
It took them another hour to reach the campsite, for the light on the ridge had been visible for miles. When they arrived there was no one around. All that remained of the beacon fire was a few embers and ash.
“We’ll camp here,” Pooley said. “The site’s been cleared of scrub and we have the makings for a fire. There’s no sense going on tonight. We’ll have to wait until morning to track him.”
The ridge was dotted with boulders and Pooley disappeared behind a grouping of them to gather some kindling. When he reappeared a few moments later, he wasn’t alone.
Nathan was holding a gun. “I think an explanation is in order,” he said flatly. He was not looking at Pooley or Jack. His silver-gray predator eyes had centered on Lydia.
She steadied herself not to flinch and answered as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “Of course I’ll explain, but I’d rather it be for your ears alone.”
Nathan looked from Jack to Pooley. “Go on,” he said. “You can camp at the foot of the gully; that way you’ll be too far away to stop me from beating her.” Both men laughed but Nathan wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t serious. Lydia’s nervous laughter told him that she didn’t know what to think either. “Lydia and I will meet you in the morning and we’ll all go back to Ballaburn together. Jack. Pooley. Thanks. I’m assuming she would have come with or without you. Better with you.”
“Right you are, Nath,” Jack said. He tipped his hat to Nathan and took the reins of his mount and began leading him away. He stopped suddenly and turned around. “How long ago did you hear us approaching?”
“Thirty minutes. As soon as you started climbing. The ridge is too full of loose stone to make a quiet ascent. That’s why I chose to camp here.”
Jack shook his head, his smile admiring. “Nothin’ gets past you.”
“There’s a fact,” Pooley added, grinning. He dropped the kindling in his hands on the cooling fire and followed his friend down the rocky incline.
Their noisy descent gave Nathan opportunity to talk without fear of being overheard. He holstered his gun. “Tell me now what you’re doing here, Lydia, because I’m really of a mind to turn you over my knee.”
Lydia bent close to the fire and began arranging the kindling so it would ignite. “You left me alone at Ballaburn,” she said simply. “I didn’t think you should have done that. I thought I was at Ballaburn so you could protect me, and suddenly you were here and I was there and I didn’t like being left alone.”
“I left you there because you were safer there. You’re always safer at the house than you are in the bush. How dare you risk your life and the lives of two of the men by coming out here.”
She waited for silence to settle. “And what about your life?” she asked calmly. “It was only this afternoon that you told me Brig might have done the coach robbery. Then you disappear. Do you think I don’t know what this is about, Nathan? If you want to confront Brigham, then wait for him to come to you. Let him come to the house where there’s protection for everyone, not up here where…where...” She waved her arm to indicate her surroundings as words to describe their situation failed her.
“Where I have better position than I’d ever have at the house,” he said tightly. “Look around you, Lydia, and try to understand what it is you’re seeing. This ridge has its own natural protection. You couldn’t get close without me hearing you and neither can Brig. These boulders behind us offer cover. There is no higher ground in these parts. You probably saw my fire twelve miles off. So will Brig. It was built expressly for that purpose when I couldn’t find any sign of him in the area. I want him to approach me here, Lydia. It’s time Brig and I talked about Ballaburn, don’t you think?”
“Talk?” she asked incredulously. “That’s why you’ve come out here?”
“It’s what I plan to do first.” He didn’t have to say anything else. Letting the sentence hang there, Nathan made Lydia understand what he would do if forced.
“Brig may not be out here at all,” she said.
“You’re right. He may not be. And with you out here now, I hope he’s not. I hope he had nothing to do with the coach robbery or the random attacks on Ballaburn. That’s what I hope, Lydia, but not what I believe.” He kicked at a loose stone and sent it sailing over the ridge. “Tomorrow morning we’re going back to the house and you’ll stay there.”
“But if you leave—”
“You’ll stay there.” He waited for her response and thought he saw a slight nod of her head. “All right. Let’s get some sleep. Get your bedroll and whatever else you had sense enough to bring. I’ll get my things.” He disappeared behind the boulders for a few minutes, came back with his bedroll, and laid it out.
Lydia took the straps off her bedroll and laid it a few feet from Nathan’s. He glanced at it and shook his head. “You’re going to be cold tonight,” he said. “You’d better move closer. Take advantage of my body heat.”
“You were going to be out here alone,” she pointed out. “I’ll manage.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. My coat is heavier than yours, my bedroll’s thicker, and I’ve slept in the bush before. Even so, I don’t relish the thought of it tonight. If you won’t share warmth for your sake, then do it for mine.”
“Oh, very well.” She dragged her blankets beside his. “There. Satisfied?”
He answered her sarcasm in kind. “How gracious you are.” Nathan set some stones around the small fire to keep it from spreading and saw to their horses before he went over to their blankets. He looked down at Lydia, all bundled up in her bedding, and shook his head again.
“What is it now?” she asked wearily.
“The idea is to share the blankets and share our heat under them.” He hunkered down, yanked hard on one corner of Lydia’s blankets, and rolled her out of it.
“Nathan! What do you think you’re—”
“Don’t press me, Lydia,” he said tersely, a rough edge to his tone. “I’m still not happy that you’re here, but since you are, you’ll do things my way. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good. Now get off the ground before you catch your death. I’ll fix our bed the way I want it.” He snapped open two blankets, laid them out smoothly, and told Lydia to lie down. Stripping off his jacket, he gave it to her. “Cover yourself with this.”
“I have a coat, Nathan. What will you—”
“Do it,” he fairly growled. “That’s better.” Getting their saddles, Nathan put them down to rest their heads on. He lay down beside her, fitting his body to the stiff contours of hers, spoon-fashion, and pulled two heavier blankets over them. He tucked them around Lydia and himself as best he could. “I can still feel you shivering,” he said.
Lydia felt him move closer, something she didn’t think was possible. The trembling she knew he felt was not entirely due to the cold. His arm was heavy across her waist and his breath was warm against her hair. She tried to stay as still as possible until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Nathan?”
His sigh was long on suffering. His voice was short on patience. “What is it?”
“There’s a stone digging into my hip.”
“Move it.”
Lydia shifted, and her buttocks pressed directly against Nathan’s groin. Even through her skirt and his jeans she felt his arousal.
“I meant, move the stone,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Not move your backside.”
“Oh.” She shifted again, heard him groan and swear softly. “Sorry. I’ll get it in just a moment. Almost. There.” She pulled it out, a little disappointed to feel how small it was in the palm of her hand. She would have sworn she was lying on Gibraltar. Lydia pitched it away and it rattled the scrub brush.
“What was that?” Nathan reached for his gun.
“I tossed the stone.”
He relaxed slowly. “God, I may have to beat you before the night’s over.”
“Please don’t be angry.”
“Angry? Angry hardly describes what I’m feeling right now.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this. So…so frustrating.”
“You didn’t know? Lydia, how can you say that? I’ve been sleeping on the floor of our bedroom for the better part of two weeks because we know what happens when we’re this close.”
Lydia turned over and faced him. “Show me what happens.”
Nathan sucked in his breath. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. Please, Nathan, if you don’t kiss me, I’ll...”
“What?”
“I’ll kiss you.” She closed the distance between their lips. Her mouth was warm and hard and hungry. Lydia’s hands touched his lean cheeks, keeping him still while her lips tasted his. Her tongue flicked at his upper lip, traced the line of it. She moved over him, kissing his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. Her breath was moist and sweet. She kissed his neck, nipping his flesh with her teeth. The soft, excited groan she heard was encouragement enough. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, spread the material, and delved beneath it. Lowering her head, she placed tiny, tempting kisses on his chest. His heart was racing and his breathing was harsh and uneven, catching as he anticipated the touch of her mouth and the caress of her fingers.
“Lydia?” Nathan stilled the restless and eager exploration of her hands. “Are you certain? Do you know what—”
“Yes,” she said, kissing him on the mouth. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” She punctuated each affirmation with another kiss. “Let me, Nathan. Please let me love you.”
Nathan turned her on her back. His lips hovered above hers. “You’re going to freeze,” he whispered.
She smiled. “Cover me.”
His mouth slanted across hers, hard and searching. He kissed her over and over—her neck, her cheeks, the sensitive spot just below her ear. His tongue ravaged her mouth, wanting, then wanting more. She helped him loosen the buttons on her blouse and together they tugged the material free of her skirt. He kissed her breasts through her chemise, laving her nipples with the rough edge of his tongue. They were raised hard against the material, and when he worried them with his lips and teeth she arched in his embrace.
She pulled at his belt and began to unfasten the buttons on his fly. She pushed at his jeans, working them over his hips while he struggled to come to terms with her split riding skirt. “What the hell do you have on?” he demanded tautly. “And how do I get it off?”
“Not that way,” she said, pushing at his hands when he tried to raise the hem of the skirt. “It’s like a pair of pants. You can’t just toss it up.”
“Don’t ever wear it again.”
“I won’t.”
He found the buttons in the waistband, undid them, and with Lydia’s help, got her out of the skirt and undergarments. He lay between her open thighs and felt her adjust to his weight and position by hooking her heels around him. Her hand came between their bodies and she reached for him, arching as she found his hard arousal and guided him inside her. His thrust was hard and sure, driving her back. She lifted, pushing against him, and he came hard at her again. His breath was warm on her face. He whispered things against her ear she only partly understood, but everything he said, everything he did, excited her to a point past bearing.
Her mouth was open under his. Their lips played, tongues sought entry, and their kisses were like the joining of their bodies, powerful and erotic and filled with desire.
It was a fire that engulfed them, shooting flames that seared and licked at their sweat-slick bodies. The heat was intense and burned rapidly and they surrendered to the hot and aching pleasure of it. Nathan’s entire body tensed. His head was thrown back, his neck arched, and he felt Lydia tightly around him, urging him toward release with just the slightest of movements against him. In his last moment of control he thrust again, breathing her name as his body pressured hers with shuddering passion.
Lydia’s fingers dug into his shoulders and she held on, tasting the cold night air at the back of her throat as she sucked in her breath. Her body curved to his. She stretched and cried out and brought his mouth down on hers as every tight spring in her body uncoiled.
Their breathing seemed loud in the stillness of the night. He was warm and heavy on her, but Lydia didn’t mind except for—“Nathan? There’s a stone under my hip.”
His laughter was soft, washing over her. “Move it.”
Lydia’s hand left his shoulder and reached under the blankets to find the stone.
Nathan shook his head. The tip of his nose brushed hers. “Move your backside,” he said. “Not the stone.”
Heat rushed to Lydia’s face, but she moved her pelvis against him. “Like that?”
“Exactly like that,” he groaned. He kissed Lydia and shifted his weight off her before he came completely out of his skin. “God, but you’re sweet.”
Lydia got rid of the stone, found her pantalets, and settled her backside against the blankets. Her skirt lay somewhere out of her reach and she didn’t care. Nathan’s denim-clad leg was thrown over hers and he tucked the blankets warmly around her. They shared his sheepskin-lined jacket like two caterpillars in the same cocoon. She could make out his features, the straight slope of his nose, the lightly colored eyes that studied her face, the shape of his mouth. His expression was grave now, intent, so completely at odds with Lydia’s giddy smile that she wondered if she had mistaken his feelings again. Her smile gradually faded.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Stop smiling. I love to look at you when you’re smiling. I don’t think you can know how good it feels to be touched by it.” His forefinger traced the line of her mouth. The corners lifted and she kissed his fingertip.
“You don’t have regrets then?” she asked.
Nathan did not answer immediately. He searched her face for some sign that she was prepared to hear what he wanted to say. The glow from the fire washed her features in a yellow-orange light and tinted strands of her sable hair auburn. He cupped the side of her face gently. “One regret,” he said.
Lydia’s eyes closed briefly under the terrible pressure she suddenly felt. Her stomach twisted and there was an agonized groan that came to her lips that she could not hold back. Giving sound to her pain embarrassed her. She tried to turn away quickly and draw her knees fetally to her chest. Nathan’s hand on her shoulder stopped her and kept her on her back.
“Look at me, Lydia.”
She might have refused if it had been a rough command, but the manner in which Nathan said those words it might well have been a plea. She found herself staring into his eyes.
“I regret that in all the times I’ve made love to you, you’ve never known you were loved.”
Lydia’s lips parted fractionally and a tiny sound that was not pain, but surprise, rushed out.
“I’ve loved you for a very long time, Lydia.” And because he was absolutely terrorized by the thought of her rejection, Nathan added carelessly, “For what it’s worth.”
It was Lydia who caught him this time as he made to move away from her. “It’s worth everything to me,” she said.
“Do you mean it?” he asked softly.
“Oh, Nathan, of course I do.” Lydia lightly touched his cheek with the back of her hand. “You can’t know how desperately I’ve wanted to hear you say those words.”
“Perhaps I can,” he said.
At first she didn’t understand what he was saying. There was a hint of expectancy in his voice, but the cause of it eluded her. Her eyes widened as realization was brought home to her. “But you know,” she said. “You must know the way I feel, the way I’ve felt all along.”
“Must I?” he asked. “You ran away from me on the occasion of our very first meeting.”
“I was frightened…and fascinated. Of course I ran.”
“When I saw you later that evening you made certain I knew you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I was embarrassed and worried you’d tell my parents where I had been.”
“You hated that I won the wager in your father’s poker game.”
“I thought you did it just to torment me.”
“You wanted Brig then.”
“I was stupid.”
Nathan was caught off guard by her admission. He smiled slowly and his chuckle sent a delicious frisson of warmth through Lydia. “Yes,” he said. “You were stupid.”
Not at all offended, Lydia nodded happily.
“You also found out enough about the wager between Brig and me to set the both of us up.”
“I was stupid only to a certain point.”
“We deserved everything you did to us,” he said, clearly remembering the jump from her bedroom window.
“Even the fertilizer in the flower bed?” she asked.
“Especially the fertilizer.”
“It could have been deeper,” she said.
Nathan kissed her smug smile and finally began to believe that she really did love him. There was no bitterness in her tone as she recalled the trick that had been played her, no resentment or ill will. In spite of how he had wronged her, she had come to love him. “I would have never wished for you losing your memory,” he told her, “but there was a part of me that was grateful when it happened. I was being given a second chance with you, or perhaps it was my first real one, only I didn’t know quite what to do with it. You accepted me so easily then, so trustingly, that I was afraid for you. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt and yet I was the one who was doing it to you.”
“You loved me then.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.
“I…yes, I suppose I did.”
She smiled because he sounded surprised. “I loved you then, too.”
Nathan shook his head. “You only thought you did.”
“What I felt for you then was quite real, Nathan. Don’t belittle my feelings because I couldn’t remember the past. While we were on the Avonlei I was in love with you. I never understood how much in love until we arrived at Ballaburn and I discovered I couldn’t hate you as I wanted to. I left because I had so little control where you were concerned. I was afraid of surrendering my very soul if I stayed.”
“Instead you took mine when you left.”
Her eyes darted over his face. He meant it, she thought wonderingly. He really meant it. “I didn’t know,” she said softly.
“That’s because you married a coward. I was afraid to tell you.” He sighed and his smile was rueful. “God, Lydia, I think I’ve been afraid of you from the very beginning. I’ve never wanted anything the way I’ve wanted you.”
Lydia chided gently, “Ballaburn.”
“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I’ve wanted you,” he repeated. “Ballaburn be damned.”
She placed a finger over his lips. “No, don’t say that. I’ve come to love Ballaburn, too. I know it was wanting the land that brought you to me.”
Nathan hesitated. “It was partly that,” he said after a moment. “It was partly something else. You suspected it a while back, I think.”
“Brigham.”
He nodded. “I didn’t want to let Brigham out of my sight. If Irish’s child had been a boy, Brig would have killed him. He wouldn’t have settled for a third of Ballaburn. When I arrived in Frisco and discovered Irish had a daughter, I was only a little less worried. I know how Brig appeals to women and I didn’t think Irish’s daughter would be immune.”
“I wasn’t,” she said honestly, and felt Nathan’s wince. “But that’s when I was stupid.”
He brushed her mouth with his. “You know I don’t really think you were that.”
“I know. But I was painfully eager to accept Brig’s attentions. He appeared to be wealthy, immune to my mother’s attraction, and interested in my work with the orphanage. He was pleasant, attentive, kind, and—”
“All the things I wasn’t.”
“Some of the things you weren’t,” she corrected. “Don’t forget, the circumstances of our first meeting were quite different.”
Nathan laughed shortly. “Our first meeting wouldn’t have happened without Brig. That altercation in the alleyway was his doing. Those thugs were his hirelings. He set the whole thing up to have the opportunity to rescue you. You don’t know how often I wished I had never overheard his plans. Instead of being grateful for my interference you were resentful.”
“I told you I was embarrassed,” she said. “Not resentful. Why did you intervene at all?”
“Because I thought Brig had gone too far. You could have been hurt.”
Lydia snuggled closer. “I was grateful,” she whispered. “For that and other things.”
“Other things?”
“For your help with Charlotte and her baby. No, don’t say that you weren’t helpful. You were. I know that it didn’t end as we might have wished, but you gave Charlotte a chance that she didn’t have with me or Dr. Franklin.”
“I saw you at the cemetery. You bought a headstone for her and Ginny Flynt, didn’t you?”
“You were there?” She remembered standing in the cemetery, George Campbell close at hand while she said a prayer by the graves. There had been someone on horseback higher up the hill and later a carriage had disturbed the silence. “You were following me?”
“Not exactly. I was following Brig. Sometimes it was the same as following you.”
“I suppose it was,” she said. One of Lydia’s hands slipped inside his shirt. His flesh was warm, his heartbeat steady. “I know what you did for Kit, setting him up at Saint Benedict’s and all. I realize you didn’t do it for me, but I’m grateful just the same. Grateful, I think, that I’ve fallen in love with such a good man.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She smiled. “That’s all right. You can pretend you don’t know. I even find your modesty becoming.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lydia kissed him. “It’s enough that I know.”
He held her close, his embrace the secure circle of his arms. “Suppose you tell me something,” he said. “What made you decide to come out here tonight?”
“I told you that already. I didn’t want to be left at the house alone.”
“I thought perhaps you’d tell me the truth this time.”
“That is...” She stopped. Didn’t she owe him something more than another lie? There had to be trust between them. “...not the truth,” she said, sighing. “I came out here to protect you.”
“I see,” he said softly. “Where did you get the idea that I needed protection?”
“It’s more puzzling to me why you think you don’t. We both know how much Brig wants Ballaburn. To his credit he tried manipulation first. He wanted me to divorce you and marry him.”
“Is that why you asked me for an annulment?”
“I wanted to hold out some hope to Brig, but I never would have married him. I’d have left the country and you would have been safe. Not being married to either one of you, Irish would have had to rethink what he wanted to do with Ballaburn. I suspect he’d have settled on a fifty-fifty split and you and Brig would come to some kind of agreement on how the place should be managed.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “So you’ve given this matter a great deal of thought.”
“I had, but you wouldn’t grant me the annulment. That changed everything. Nathan, if Brig makes me a widow, then I’m free to marry him. He’ll try to get Ballaburn that way. I left Sydney with you so I could protect you, not the other way around.”
“I was afraid it might be something like that,” he said. “You’re Mad Irish’s daughter, you know that, don’t you?”
“Let’s say I’m beginning to understand what people mean when they say that to me.”
Nathan chuckled. “It’s not entirely a compliment.”
“I’m learning that, too.”
“So how were you going to protect me out here?” he asked.
Lydia did not mistake his tone for anything but patronizing. “I have one of Irish’s guns in my saddlebag,” she said. “No derringer this time. It’s a Remington and I know just enough about using it to make Brig think twice about hurting you.”
Nathan released her immediately. He sat up, looking around for her saddlebag. He found it and the gun inside. Swearing softly and succinctly he put them both down out of her reach.
“Nathan! Put that gun over here!” She started to sit up. The cold and the force of his arm drove her back down again.
“God, Lydia, that you could be so naïve. You’re not to do anything to Brigham, do you hear me? I’ll handle him. I’ve known all along that he might use you to get to me, and if he succeeds, Lydia, he’ll still use you. He’ll make you his wife, take Ballaburn, and at the end of a year you’ll have a very tragic suicide, your wrists slashed, the blood drained out of you. He might rape you first, your hands tied tightly to the headrails of your bed, and it won’t matter if you struggle because I suspect that Brig would like that.”
Lydia’s hands were covering her ears. “Stop it, Nathan! You’re not—”
He took her hands away and held her as closely and tightly as he could. “I love you, Liddy,” he whispered against her ear, then her mouth. “I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, do you understand?” He felt her nod and drew her head against his shoulder. His hand nestled in her hair. “I can’t protect you if I’m dead and that’s what I’ll be if you get between Brig and me. That you’re willing to risk so much means everything to me, but I don’t need proof that you love me. God only knows why you do, but I know you’re telling me the truth.”
“Yes,” she said. There were tears pressing against her tightly closed eyes. “Hold me, Nathan. Please, just hold me.
Nathan did. In the stillness of the night, with Lydia’s gentle breathing reminding him of the passage of time, he came to know the profound nature of love.