WHILE Troy sat and talked to Courtney and Darcy, Casey quickly showered and shampooed her hair, greatly comforted by the realization Troy in his grief wanted to be with her. She dressed in a new blue tank top with an ornamental black zipper down the side. Black sandblast jeans. In the heat her towel-dried hair was a mass of long loose ringlets but she could brush them out. Afterwards she threw a few things into an overnight bag and went downstairs.
“All set?” Darcy looked up with a smile, putting down her cup of coffee.
“Yes.” Casey returned the smile, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “Glenn might ring tonight.” She said it apologetically.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.” Courtney nodded.
“I’ll bring Casey back tomorrow, the way I promised.” Troy stood to attention. “We should go. I’d like to be back on Vulcan before dusk.”
“Take care you two,” Darcy said gently, looking from one to the other.
Troy’s answering smile was a little bleak.
“I think he’s trying to find the strength to give her up,” Courtney later confided to her sister.
“If that’s what she wants,” Darcy answered. “I don’t think she does. Troy’s a really fine man. I don’t think Casey will find many like him. She keeps a lot to herself but it’s no secret to us anyway she’s in love with him.”
“I guess it all comes down to whether she wants to focus her entire attention on a career,” Courtney said. “It’s always like that. Women trying to juggle a career with home and kids. A lot can’t manage it. As for me, I was doing okay, but I could never bring myself to give up Adam. Not for anything. I love him.”
“Who would doubt it!” Darcy laughed. “Not only that he’ll be brought into the family in more ways than one. We need him. Murraree needs him. It couldn’t have turned out better. I’m just glad you’re allowing me as the eldest to marry first. I don’t think we need worry about Casey and Troy,” she added calmly. “Both of them are strong people. They’ll find a way.”
It was already dark by the time they let themselves in to the homestead, the brilliant violet of dusk vanishing like a puff of smoke.
It was the second time Casey had been inside Vulcan’s homestead. The first was after Clifford Connellan’s funeral when the house had been jam packed with mourners. Casey hated funerals. They always took her back to the terrible day they had buried her mother. Clifford Connellan’s hadn’t been so bad. The service wasn’t long but it had been uplifting. Everyone who had come from near and far appeared to have had genuine liking and respect for Troy’s late father.
Lady Curtis, Troy’s godmother, had been a tower of strength. And such a little woman! Casey really appreciated the way Lady Curtis, Troy’s “Mabs” had taken the time to catch up with her. Indeed they had had quite a long conversation. It was almost as though Lady Curtis was as protective of her as she obviously was of Troy and Leah. Of course she had been their mother’s dearest friend. But that didn’t explain why she was so very nice to me, Casey thought. Lady Curtis had as good as ranged herself alongside. Casey had been very grateful.
Once inside, Troy drew her into his arms with a deep sigh. He rested his cheek against hers, then let her go. “There’s plenty of food in the house. Let’s have a drink first. We can eat later.”
“Fine with me.” For a big man he was always so tender. “Mind if I wander about?”
He wanted to say my house is your house. All that kept him from saying it was his reluctance to put pressure on her. “Go right ahead,” he said. “The house was so crowded the other day. But you’d have seen the general layout. It’s not as grand as Murraree now that it’s been done up, but I love it. It’s home. It’s where my mother came as a bride.”
“You must have photographs of her,” Casey said, turning to face him. “I’d love to see them.”
Some of the stress on his strongly hewn face drained away. “I’ll go and get them. Dad put them away but Leah and I often pull them out.”
How awful! Casey thought, shoving precious photographs away in a cabinet. But then it was difficult to judge these things. Bereft people reacted in vastly different ways. Still Elizabeth Connellan’s children would have wanted mementos of their mother around. Probably they had photographs of her in their bedrooms. This business of Troy’s mother’s alleged infidelity had clearly affected him. And yet from what she could make out there was no proof. It could have been a jealous fantasy of his father’s. Whatever the answer they’d all suffered. A happy childhood was central to stability in later life. People who’d had that simply didn’t know how lucky they were, Casey thought.
My kids are going to have it, she decided, at that point childless.
She wandered into the huge drawing room, looking around her. These cattle barons had made their homes their castles. Vulcan homestead was single storey unlike Murraree but with the same wonderful spacious verandahs. What was home to Troy, was very grand to her. Like Murraree the homestead was huge. Probably five or six times the size of the average house. And average houses didn’t have wonderful paintings on the walls, magnificent chandeliers and splendid furnishings. Not that grand houses made anyone particularly happy. One could be perfectly happy in a cottage. It all came down to where love was.
Troy returned, carrying two leather-bound photo-albums and on top of them a large silver framed studio portrait. He handed it to her.
“My mother.” His golden eyes were brilliant. “Elizabeth meet Casey.” He made a little ceremony of passing the framed photograph across.
Casey took a deep breath, looking down at the smiling face. “Troy, she’s lovely. Absolutely lovely.” Sincerity vibrated in her voice. The photograph was black and white but there was no mistaking the luminous eyes, the distinctive arching brows, the thick curling hair, the shapely mouth and that tantalizing smile. “You resemble her greatly,” she said softly, rubbing the glass gently with her fingers. “The male version.”
“There are a lot more photographs here,” Troy said, taking the photo from her and placing it on a marble topped console. “I don’t want to bore you stiff. I know it happens. It’s happened to me.”
“No, I want to see them. I want to know what you were all like.”
“All right, you asked for it.” He smiled wryly. “Yell out when you’ve had enough. I think you’ll find I was a beautiful child.” He managed a mocking grin.
“No happy little shots with you lying naked on your tummy?”
“I hope not. I wouldn’t mind seeing one of you, though.”
“None of me, Connellan. We didn’t own a camera and there were no happy snaps in The Home.”
“Why do I always think you capitalize that place?” He led her to a couch and sat down beside her.
“Because I do.”
“Why did I bring the bloody place up,” Troy chided himself, catching the shadows that chased across her face. “Take a look at this!” He sought to divert her. “It’s me on my first pony. I might have been three or four. Are you going to tell me that isn’t a beautiful child?”
“I’d like a child like that,” Casey said simply.
Heat and adrenaline coursed through his veins. “Then I’m afraid we’d have to get into a steady relationship.”
“No affair?” she asked, eyes sparkling, voice bland.
“No way!” He shook his bronze head. “Affairs burn themselves out. I’m talking commitment.”
“So am I thank you very much,” she said snappily. “You all look so happy.” She stared down at the family snap, the fabled Outback floral gardens she had yet to see, as a backdrop. Mother, father, two adorable children. All beaming at the camera. What had ruptured that?
“We were happy. Then.” Troy’s deep voice was full of regret.
“Your dad could have got it all wrong,” she said, turning her head so she could look into his grieving eyes.
His mouth curved down. “Mabs said he did.”
“Listen to her if you won’t listen to me.”
“Who said I don’t listen to you?” he retorted. “Hell, McGuire, I live for your every word. Look at this one. Dad and I on a camel. That’s me under the too big pith helmet. We’ve got hundreds of thousands of camels running around the Outback courtesy the Afghans who brought a handful here 150 years ago. Our camels are the healthiest in the world. It’s the clean desert environment. They thrive here which isn’t real good for our native animals. They’re feral. They compete with our native animals for food and shelter. Plus on heat and it’s the male that comes on heat, they can be dangerous critters.”
“Can you ride one?” she asked, turning pages slowly.
He made a disgusted sound. “Of course I can. Win races as well. You’ll find proof in there.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Camels mightn’t look it but they’re very intelligent animals.”
“They make me laugh, that’s all. Not that I’ve actually seen one in the flesh.”
“You will,” he promised matter-of-factly. “There must be a thousand or more on Vulcan. Feral goats are a problem. They eat almost anything and Outback conditions suit them. Feral cats are worse. They’re so destructive. When I’m out on my bore run I couldn’t count the number of beautiful birds that have been attacked by feral cats. All they leave is a pile of brilliant feathers. I hate them. All of us on the land do.”
“I can understand that. You care about the native animals and the environment. What about the dingoes? I’ve seen them on Murraree. They breed up in the hills. They’re handsome animals.”
“They are.” He nodded. “Dingo pups are especially beautiful. Bundles of gold. As long as their numbers are controlled we don’t have a problem with our native dog. They can’t bark, you know. They howl.”
She gave a little shiver. “I know. I’ve heard them. It’s so mournful.”
“They’re only locating their mates or their pups.” He pointed to a magnificent shot of two horsemen chasing brumbies. “I’m the first rider. The other one was our foreman. A great bloke. He was killed by a feral pig. If you ever see one get right out of the way. They’re one of the dangerous critters.
“Had enough?” he asked, watching her. The temptation to pull her into his arms was almost overwhelming. But he’d decided he was going to do nothing to hurry her in any way.
“No.” She started on the second album. All these family photographs brought him closer to her. In the second album there were fewer photos of Leah as she no doubt moved away to city life. His mother no longer featured, either. There were photographs of polo meets. In several Troy, Curt Berenger and another handsome guy she didn’t know had their arms thrown around one another’s necks, grinning widely. She saw his eyes close in pain at the shots of the family Cessna with he and his father and sometimes Leah standing alongside.
“You know Dad had been flying well over thirty years without incident,” he confided in a hollow voice. “I keep dwelling on what his last moments must have been like.”
She reached out, curled her fingers around his. “Maybe it was as they say. Your whole life runs on fast forward before your eyes. He would have been thinking of you and Leah. He would have been thinking of his wife.”
“I don’t think he ever stopped loving her.” Strong emotion was hidden under harshness. “Though he often used to say loving weakens a man.”
“That’s because he couldn’t bear his loss. I don’t know if you believe in an afterlife, but I do. It’s the only way I could accept the brutal loss of my mother. I would see her again. If you try a little, Troy, I think you’ll be able to picture your mother and father together. If there’s a Heaven that’s where love pours down like sunshine.”
“That’s beautiful, McGuire,” he said, picking up her hand and kissing it.
They ate in the cool of the rear terrace with the stars blossoming huge as diamond daisies in a dark purple sky.
Casey decided his face looked a little more relaxed now. Obviously he’d been giving himself hell. She guessed he had been struggling under a tremendous weight of guilt as well as grief since he had intended having a showdown with his father when he returned. Except it didn’t turn out that way. Clifford Connellan had not survived the flight.
She’d made the simple meal and served it. Peppered steaks and a green salad. From the way he bent his head to it Casey decided either it looked very good or he hadn’t had the stomach to eat up to date. At any rate, he polished it off so she served another course of tinned peaches and vanilla ice cream. She was no Courtney in the kitchen but neither of them had any trouble disposing of the meal.
Troy made the coffee. Good coffee. They took it back outdoors. A cooling breeze was blowing in from the desert, ruffling her hair. She loved the sweet and the spicy aromatic scents that gusted towards them, released by the night air.
“That was good. I enjoyed it,” Troy complimented her, allowing his eyes to drink her in. The soft exterior lights bathed her, turning her hair into a glory. There was every hue of rich gold, red-gold and copper. Her eyes were like jewels. Her full lips under the small straight nose were curved in a teasing smile.
“That’s because you’re hungry. I’m a lousy cook.”
He shook his head. “I can’t accept that, McGuire. The steak was cooked to perfection and the salad had a bite.”
“Thai dressing,” she said.
“When we clear up here, there’s another thing you have to do for me.” A corner of his mouth turned up at the change in her expression. “I haven’t finished yet.”
“I assure you sex wasn’t on my mind,” she said and coloured.
“For as long as I’ve known you it’s never been off mine. But that wasn’t what I was going to say. I want you to sing for me. Would you? Please.”
Casey caught the ripple of emotion in his luminous eyes. “You really want me to?”
The need for comfort only she could bring was a driving force. “Why should that surprise you? I love your voice. Your speaking voice and the way you sing. It reaches me. Right in here.” He struck a spot on his broad chest.
“You need soothing,” she said.
My God, didn’t he! The last few days had been terrible. Now it seemed like a miracle they were alone together.
They had cleared the table, done the dishes, Troy had fetched Leah’s abandoned guitar, now they were back in the drawing room. Troy was lounging on a sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Casey was seated on a brocade covered bench tuning the guitar. A very good one, though as it turned out Leah had lacked the talent or the commitment or both to give it much use.
“Ready yourself for a new song,” she said softly, her sapphire gaze full of pure emotion. It lingered on his marvellous face, lost itself in his golden eyes. Her gaze still on him she plucked out the introduction—then began to croon, using a free rhythm.
“It’s a little hard gettin’ used to this idea of loving,
I mean I found precious little lovin’ in my life
It’s a little hard getting used to tenderness and attention, tenderness and attention are things I’ve never had
Then along came you
Not part of my world
Yet you found that still quiet place inside me not touched since long ago
You made me love you
You know you did
You understood all about me
I’m not alone now in my own skin
You made me love you
You’re part of all that I am
You made me love you
You know you did
I carry you around every single minute of ever single hour of every
single day
You’re part of me, part of the woman I’ve become
Love can make or break us
But life has changed direction
Just when I thought my ties to happiness were all but cut away.
The circle of your arms around me is just like coming home.
For you are what I long for
What I long have sought
For you, for you, are the meaning to my life.
She half spoke the last few words, then gently set down the guitar. “What do you think? I can polish it. It was more or less ad lib.” Her eyes scanned his face.
He was so unbearably moved he had to take a moment to answer. Who the hell had laid down in stone a strong man shouldn’t cry? “What do I think?” Starkly he realised the extent of her talent. “Casey, come here to me.” He spread his large hands, gathered her into him, while she settled her head on his shoulder. “I love it. The lyrics and the haunting melody. It was beautiful. I can’t think it needs polishing at all.” He kissed her warm silky head beneath his chin. “I had the feeling it was about me. About us. Is that right?” His tone of voice begged for it to be true.
“Would it trouble you if I loved you?” She sat perfectly still.
“Trouble me!” His voice was rough with invading emotions. “I’m so shook up I can’t adequately express my emotions. They’re like an avalanche.”
“Yet you’re troubled it mightn’t work? You and me?” She tipped her head to stare into his face, loving the fact it was so close she could see the fine grain of his skin.
“You could leave me when you’ve had enough.” His heart dropped like a stone. “God knows I can’t cage you, or your talent. That would be wrong. Gifts like yours are meant to be used.”
He waited for her to answer. She said nothing
“Whatever happens, Casey, it’s been worth everything!”
It was an admission that came from the heart. Yet something flashed across her face. A hint of rebellion. “You could have me yet you seem to be offering me a way out?” she challenged, feeling like a door was opening only to be shut in her face.
His laugh was abrupt. “For God’s sake, that’s the last thing I want. How can you doubt it? I want to keep you close to me always. I have dreams, too, Casey.”
“But you question my ability to be part of them?” She let her flash of anger show. She who had suffered so much rejection.
“Hey, settle down.” His arm travelled back and forth across her back, gentling her like she was a temperamental filly. “I’ll never be able to forget you’re a redhead, will I? What I’m saying is, I’m scared as all hell what I can offer you mightn’t be enough. I couldn’t bear it if we married and you left me some time in the future. Divorced me. It happens.”
“You’re afraid of hurt?”
“Not hurt. Desolation,” he said quietly. “Aren’t you?”
Her expression changed as her spirit opened wider. She let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Troy. I know we have to talk this out, but I’m getting ruled by my emotions. You’ve touched me like nobody else can. You’re worried my career will become more important to me as time goes by?”
“It scares me,” he said succinctly. “Your music is so much a part of you.”
“It is. But what you seem to be talking about is performances. Going away on tour?”
“Heck yes!” He nodded his head sharply. “I’m absolutely certain that’s what Gardiner has in mind. I hear on all sides you’ve got a big future. I firmly believe it. What hope would I have, Casey, girl, keeping you down on the farm?”
“You could keep me pregnant,” she suggested, not bothering to rein in her emotion. “I’d like four kids.”
“Casey, honey, be serious,” he begged, grasping a thick knot of her hair and holding her beautiful face up to him.
“You don’t want kids?” She pressed her lips together.
He gave in to his helpless desire to kiss her, taking his time about it. “We could start tonight seeing you’re in such a hurry,” he muttered, desperate to leave his imprint on her. “I want kids nearly as much as I want you!”
“Well I want kids so much it hurts,” she moaned. “I’ve already planned on your being the father. Of course if you reckon a strong woman is too much to handle—”
He gave a harsh guffaw. “I’d be happy to tame you, McGuire.”
“That’s good!” she sighed voluptuously, her breasts swelling, “because I’m desperate to be made love to.”
Sensual heat was in his hands. “I can help you with that, too.” Isn’t that what love was? he thought. Laying himself open to everything, including pain?
She brushed a tear from her lashes. “Your father’s dead, yet we go on with life.”
“We have to,” he said, his heart jolted with fresh pain.
“Your dad didn’t like me much,” she said in a melancholy voice.
“So how come he described you as a glorious creature?”
She stared up at him, her eyebrows rising in disbelief. “I’m amazed to hear that.” Clifford Connellan could not have said it the way he’d looked at her.
“It’s true all the same.” Troy laughed strangely. “That was Dad. He couldn’t seem to say anything good to your face.” He stood, bringing her with him. “I’ve waited for you forever! You’re like the light at the end of a long dark tunnel.”
“I like that!” she sighed. “It’s true for me, too. I’m here now, Troy,” she soothed him, revelling in the love he communicated just holding her in his arms. “And I won’t be gone in the morning, either. We’re going to wake up together. It’ll be wonderful! You said you loved my song. Think what I was saying. It was about us. Not just another song for an album. I love you, Troy. I want to share my life with you. That’s my ambition.”
Elation fell on him like gold dust. He drew back a moment to rest his hands on her shoulders. “The world lost for love, Casey?” His eyes touched her lovely mouth. “As long as you’re very, very sure?”
“You are my fulfilment, Connellan,” she said huskily. “None of it matters but you.”
His body, which had been knotted with tension, relaxed. “Truly?”
“You bet!” She shaped the words fiercely lest he doubt her. “Though I’m disappointed you couldn’t trust me a little. As for my career! I don’t long for success in that way. Besides.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing stopping me from continuing to write songs.”
He smiled crookedly. “I’d thought that myself.” How many times had he thought it? He’d even tried to steer her towards it. But would it be enough?
Her heart melted at the hope in his eyes. “Have you forgotten I’ll have other things occupying my time? I’ve thought about this, Troy, just the way you have. No matter what Glenn has in mind I never intended to jump on the merry-go-round. I’ve made a lot of useful contacts. I know people in the business. There’s no reason why I can’t get my songs out there without making a career the entire focus of my life. It’s not a big deal cutting albums, either. Maybe a personal appearance now and again. I’m sure it could be worked out and if it can’t? I’ll still be okay. I’ll have you!”
“You sure will.” His arms closed around her. “I’m your man. But you can’t just drop everything, can you?” Troy was desperate to make this work. “You signed a contract.”
“Yes and Adam vetted it. He made sure he looked after my interests. I haven’t signed my life away. Be sure of that.”
Troy clung to that. He had been offered this one chance at heaven. He wasn’t about to let it slip out of reach. “Then the sooner I get a ring on your finger the better,” he said.
If it pleased her he would love her to wear his mother’s ring. Sapphire for the colour of her eyes. Diamonds for the sparkle. The earrings. The necklace. Surely his father must have known?
Ring! For some incredibly strange reason Casey hadn’t reckoned on rings. Her mother didn’t have any engagement ring. Wedding ring, either. Destiny had robbed her of that.
Almost in a trance Casey allowed him to lead her into his bedroom where he suddenly swooped her up into his arms like a doll and laid her on the bed. The look on his face, the passion and the vibrancy almost knocked her out.
Never had she been more aware of herself as a woman. A woman loved. Every nerve in her body had electricity running through it. Tears pricked in her eyes, gathered. Transforming tears that came from the deepest depths of her being. No wonder he was filled with fear she might leave him. Her only wish now was never to leave his side. She was quite clear in her mind what her goal was. He was bigger, better, more generous, more compassionate than any man she had ever known. And he was hers! This wasn’t some impossible dream. It was a living experience and it was happening now.
Troy! A lion among men with his unblinking golden gaze.
It was trained on her, so desirous, so tender, devout! How beautiful, how humbling. In utter silence he undressed her, unravelling and peeling her like a peach, running his hands lingeringly up and down the trembling length of her body, hands vibrating over her breasts, her stomach, her mound, his callused fingertips so erotic. Pleasure and excitement rippled across her face. Her eyelids were fluttering. She strained upward towards him and he swooped, kissing her.
Then swiftly he turned away shucking his clothes to reveal his own superb body, his skin many many shades deeper than hers. Bronze velvet, white satin.
She called to him in an excited whisper and he went to her, all his senses ablaze, his throat crowded with words of love but too dry to say them. The two of them melted into each other like wax melts in flames. It was a meeting not just of the physical, but the emotional and the spiritual. It was a declaration of love that was to prove as constant as a rock.
They were alone. Perfectly alone, each striving to hold on to the solemnity of this night. Something that could be forever recalled. Casey had no other name for her rapture than perfection.
How to hold on to it?
She knew how.
Grasp it with both hands.