AS JACY DROVE TOWARD IAN’S HOUSE SHE MARVELED TO herself at the chilling beauty of the land. It seemed surreal, in the sweep of her headlights and the glow of the moon, like the landscape of some strange, distant planet. Dust lay in drifts, not only on the ground but on the posts of the rail fence edging Jake’s empty paddock. In places the stuff rose in shifting mounds on the road itself, and she had to downshift and accelerate to get through it.
The Yarbro property was fairly close by, and Jacy reached it within ten minutes. Lantern lights glowed inside the large house—no doubt the storm had clogged up the generator, as it had done at Corroboree Springs—and the back door flew open the moment Jacy stepped out of the truck.
Chris stood on the porch, and his expression was one of frank disappointment.
Jacy laid her hands on the boy’s small, thin shoulders. “Your dad’s okay, Chris—he’s at Corroboree Springs right now, with Jake.”
Alice Wigget filled the doorway behind him, and Jacy saw tears of relief in the older woman’s eyes. Though she looked tough enough to wrestle a wild boar and win, Alice was a kindly sort—Jacy had figured that out long ago.
“Nothing would keep that hardheaded fool from going out into the storm—”
Chris’s eyes were solemn as he looked up at Jacy. “Why did Dad stay with Jake? Why didn’t you bring him with you?”
Jacy gave the boy a quick hug and ushered him into the spacious kitchen. The familiarity of the place gave her a pang, for she’d eaten many meals in that room, at that very table, with Ian and his father, Mike.
She sat down beside Chris on the bench and shook her head when Mrs. Wigget silently offered tea.
“Ian had a small accident,” Jacy said carefully. “Something struck him in the back of the head during the storm, and he was knocked out, as well as cut.” Seeing the rising alarm in Chris’s face, she hastened to go on. “Your dad will be all right, I promise. He just needs a little looking after, that’s all. I’ll bring him home in the morning.”
Chris looked only slightly mollified. “I could go back to Corroboree Springs with you and spend the night. Just in case Dad needs me for something.”
Jacy’s heart twisted, but the memory of Jake getting ready to stitch up Ian’s gash stopped her from agreeing to the plan. There would be considerable pain involved, and the whole process was bound to be upsetting to a child.
“Just this once,” she said gently, slipping one arm around Chris, “will you trust me to look after him?” She crossed her heart with her free hand and held it up in an oath. “I swear I’ll protect Ian for you.”
At last, and warily, Chris smiled. “All right,” he agreed. “But don’t forget to bring him home first thing.”
Jacy planted a light kiss on his forehead. “Word of honor,” she said. “And now I’d better be getting back. Sleep tight, Chris—there’ll be school tomorrow if the roads are passable, and you’ll need your rest.”
Chris looked up at Jacy with his beautiful hazel eyes, and in that very moment he took permanent possession of her heart. “Tell my dad I’m glad he didn’t die,” he said.
Jacy’s throat tightened, and she and Alice exchanged looks. The fact was, Ian could easily have been killed; many experienced bushmen before him had perished in such storms. “I’m glad, too,” she answered gently.
On the way over Jacy had been able to distract herself from thoughts of Ian by concentrating on the aftermath of the tempest, but on the trip back it was a different story. What if Ian had died, with all the bad feeling between them? If that had happened, she’d have been left with remorse to deal with, as well as grief.
She shifted the truck into a lower gear, since the dust was still deep on the road, and sighed. Suppose she did try to make peace with Ian? He might very well laugh in her face.
Just the prospect made her narrow her eyes and set her jaw. It would be just like that mule-headed son of a dingo to scorn her….
The pain was worse than anything Ian had suffered up to that point, and even the half bottle of rum he’d consumed didn’t help. The cleaning of the wound had been bad enough, but when Jake shoved the needle through his flesh for the first time he nearly bolted out of his chair.
“Here now, sit still,” Jake scolded. “Swear if you want to, but no more of that bouncing about.”
Ian swore roundly, but he sat still and endured his mate’s ministrations until the thread was tied off.
“We’ll have to keep an eye on that,” Jake said, frowning. “An infection might take hold.”
Ian took another long draught of rum. Liquor, like strong emotion, caused his speech to thicken into the broguelike meter typical of bushmen. “If you’re through torturin’ me, Jake Tiernan, I’ll be on me way.”
“You’re goin’ nowhere,” Jake answered, surveying Ian’s dirt-covered frame. “Probably should have hosed you down before we did any sewin’. I’d offer you the use of the shower, but you’re wearin’ half the outback, and you’d no doubt clog up the drain. Go down and dip yourself in the springs, if you’ve got the strength to take yourself that far, and I’ll see about makin’ up a bed for you.”
Ian rose, pushing his chair back, glared at Jake for a moment, and then wove his way through the house to the front door. If he had the strength to take himself that far indeed, he thought as he crossed the seemingly interminable distance to the springs.
There, as everywhere, the dust coated the grass and even the leaves in the trees, but the force of the water had already carried away any grit that might have settled on the surface.
Slowly, painfully, Ian took off his clothes and walked into the pool just to one side of the springs. It was like a cool caress, and for a few moments he forgot everything but the pure sensual pleasure of the water against his wind-scoured flesh.
Washing the dirt from his hair proved a painful process, however, and he was cursing when he felt a sudden stillness inside. Usually the sensation was a warning of danger, but when Ian turned his head he saw Jacy standing on the bank.
“Brought you some of Jake’s clothes and a towel,” she said, holding up a bundle. Her words had been offered cautiously, as though she’d expected to be rebuffed, and a swift, piercing sensation of regret struck Ian at his center.
Ian’s response came out sounding as rough as the dirt that had ground itself into his skin. “Thanks,” he said. “Chris is all right, then?”
Jacy nodded, just standing there bathed in moonlight, holding the clothes against her chest. Ian wished she’d go away and, conversely, that she would strip off her jeans and blouse and wade in to join him.
For a time they just stared at each other, and the silence seemed as vast as the “wide brown country” itself.
Jacy finally broke it, setting the bundle carefully on the grass. “Good night,” she said, too brightly, as though there had never been fire between them, as though they hadn’t loved and hated each other, as though they hadn’t created whole new universes when they made love.
She turned, and Ian, his body stone weary, his head throbbing with pain, his gut writhing in protest against the rum he’d consumed, found that he couldn’t bear to see her walk away.
“Jacy,” he said, and she stopped without turning to face him. Even in the moonlight he saw her shoulders tense beneath the thin fabric of her blouse. “Don’t go—please.”
She hesitated; for a few treacherous moments he thought she would ignore him, or spin about, blue eyes flashing, and tell him to go straight to hell.
“You said it earlier,” Ian went on, quietly desperate. “‘Time out.’ Just for tonight let’s agree to a truce.”
At last she rounded to look him in the face, and the depth of Ian’s gratitude was ridiculous. Her manner was wary, but the suppressed anger that usually crackled in every muscle was gone. “Is this a joke?”
Ian looked away a moment, stricken to know that she suspected a verbal ambush. At the same time he had to admit she had every reason to expect just that. “I thought we could talk, that’s all. We’re going to be business partners after this, you know. We ought to learn to exchange a civil word, don’t you think?”
Jacy took a step forward, but she was still cautious, braced to do battle or to flee. She squinted, and the beginnings of a smile touched her mouth. Her soft, luscious, inviting mouth …
“Is that Ian Yarbro talking?” she teased.
He laughed for an answer and splashed a little water her way with one hand, and for a few golden seconds it seemed they were eighteen again, safe in their sweet, youthful love. He yearned to capture the magic, but he knew it was a fleeting thing, and all the more precious for the fact.
Jacy bent and sent a responding spray flying over him like liquid crystal. Then she crouched beside the pool and looked at him with sad curiosity. She wanted an explanation for the change in his attitude toward her, and it was only fair to give her one.
“I’ve been thinking over what Jake said—about our getting married, I mean.”
She went absolutely still, like a wild thing sensing peril.
Ian let out a ragged sigh. Obviously, the burden was on him. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”
Jacy put her hand over her heart and spread her fingers. Her mouth opened once, then closed again. Finally she spoke. “Not such a bad idea? Ian, you said not twenty-four hours ago that hell would freeze over first. Frankly, I have to wonder just how bad that head wound of yours really is.”
He felt the magic toppling, ready to fall and splinter at their feet, and he grasped it with all his strength of spirit. “I was wrong,” he said.
Jacy stared at him in bewilderment for a long time, plainly wondering what he was up to. “We’re not in love with each other,” she pointed out. “That would be a problem.”
Ian shrugged and held out one arm, and Jacy tossed the towel to him. “Why? It wouldn’t be the first time a couple married for practical reasons, especially out here.”
“What’s in this for you?” she asked suspiciously, watching as he came toward the bank. He took his time wrapping the towel around his middle.
“There’s the land, for one thing. Our two properties joined together would be on a par with Merimbula.” He sat down on the grass beside her, moving slowly partly because he was lightheaded from the day’s ordeal and partly because he didn’t want to scare her away. Finally, wearing nothing but the towel, he found the courage to look her directly in the face. “I won’t deny that I want you, Jacy Tiernan. I kept waiting for it to stop—the wanting, I mean—but it never did.”
Jacy was quiet. He saw her throat move as she swallowed, and he wanted to kiss her there, at the pulse point. Among other places.
“Do I have to do all the talking, Tiernan?” he finally demanded with a half grin. “Or are you going to help me out a little here?”
She wet her lips, and Ian felt another grinding clench far down inside him. “It’s just that you caught me off guard, that’s all. I don’t really know what to say.”
Ian couldn’t resist any longer. He bent his head and brushed her mouth lightly with his, then paused, a breath away, giving her time to draw back if she wanted.
Jubilation coursed through him when she slipped her arms around his neck instead and pulled him toward her.
The kiss was deep and wet and completely mutual, and the old desire flared within Ian, then blazed across his soul like a bushfire devouring dry grass. He knew he couldn’t take her—not there, with Jake so close by—but at the same time he wondered if he’d be able to stop, because she was offering herself.
With a groan Ian pressed her back onto the ground, kissing her throat, and her hands moved on his bare shoulder blades, his spine, the small of his back. He raised his head with a gasp. “Oh, God, Jacy—we’ve got to stop this now—”
She was opening the buttons of her blouse, spreading the fabric apart. Only sheer silk and lace hid her breasts from him, and he saw her nipples plainly, tightening for him. Asking.
He groaned again, rasped a second plea. “Jacy—”
She undid the front catch of her bra, and then she was bared to him, and Ian was lost. He fell to her with a low cry, greedy for her, and she arched slightly to accommodate him. With one hand she stroked his hair, careful to avoid the wound, and that was as electrifying anything she could have done.
Her breaths were quick and shallow, and Ian opened the front of her jeans with one hand while he enjoyed her breasts, each in turn. He slid his fingers between her skin and her clothes, and when he found the soft, hidden nubbin of her femininity, she cried out softly and raised herself to him.
As badly as Ian wanted this woman, writhing warm and willing beneath him, he knew he couldn’t take her—not then, not there, just a stone’s throw from her father’s door. But he could please her, and make her yearn for his bed, and he set his mind to those things.
He knew how to touch her, and where—it all came back.
“Ian,” she whispered, pleading.
“Shhh,” he said gently, wanting to soothe her even as he inflamed her. “There now, it’s all right, love—I’ll see to your pleasure, I promise—”
Jacy made a soft, strangled sound, one of desperation and surrender.
It was music to Ian’s soul. He slipped downward and kissed her soft, trembling belly even as he smoothed her jeans over her hips and thighs. She whimpered when he teased her, stroking the silken tangle lightly with his fingers, and she gave herself up completely when he took her with his mouth.
Jacy writhed in the dusty grass, her breasts bared to the night sky, her jeans and underpants gone and forgotten. All she knew in those wild, fevered moments was Ian—Ian’s hands, Ian’s mouth, Ian’s tongue.
He satisfied her in stages, just as he had always done, bringing her to a shattering climax only to carry her higher after that, to another plain of pleasure. And while he consumed her he raised his hands to her breasts, fondling them, alternately stroking and lightly pinching the nipples.
She came with a long, low cry, rising high, and before she touched the ground she was climbing again, toward another pinnacle.
Ian might have kept her going from one response to the next throughout the night if she hadn’t finally broken down and begged him to let her rest.
She expected him to mount her, wanted him to do that, but instead he withdrew, avoiding her gaze, and started wrenching on his clothes.
Jacy stared at him in disbelief; it was plain enough that he wanted her, and just as plain that he meant to turn away.
“Ian?” She found her jeans, put them on, and started to button her blouse. “What is it?”
He glanced toward the house. “Jake is the best friend I’ve ever had,” he said, fastening his pants with some difficulty. “I don’t know what I was thinking, making love to the man’s daughter in his front yard.”
Jacy was frustrated, but she was relieved, too. She’d feared on some level that Ian was rejecting her, and that would have been unbearable just then. “You’ve changed,” she teased. “It never bothered you to make love to me in the loft of Jake’s hay shed, if I remember correctly.”
“I was a kid then,” Ian said, irritable. He came over, extended his hand, and pulled Jacy to her feet. She tumbled, by accident or design, against his chest, and his grin flashed white in the darkness. “I’d ask if I pleased you,” he said, “but the way you carried on answered all my questions.”
Jacy was amazed to realize that she could have melted into him, could have and surely would have responded yet again if he’d laid her down on the ground and entered her. It was disturbing to think that a man had that much power over her, especially one who didn’t love her.
She looked up into his eyes, hoping the night would camouflage the hot blush that had surged into her face. “You’re no gentleman, Ian Yarbro.”
He curved one hand around her breast and bent to kiss her lightly on the mouth. However fleeting, it was a prophecy of other seductions, of long, delicious hours of total surrender. “You wouldn’t want a gentleman in your bed, at least not all the time,” he answered at long last as her nipple pressed eagerly against his palm, “any more than I’d want a lady.”
It was only too true. She liked the commanding way Ian made love to her, and when she was intimate with him, she was anything but a lady.
She touched the front of his pants, where his rod still pressed against the rough cloth, powerful and hard. “You owe me,” she warned in a sultry voice, “and I’m going to make sure you pay up.”
Ian groaned and let his head fall back, surrendering to her stroking fingers. “Oh, I’ll pay, all right,” he breathed as he clasped her wrist and pulled her hand away. “Believe me.”
When they entered the house there was a single lamp burning, and the couch was made up with blankets and a pillow. Jake had obviously gone to bed.
Leaving Ian to go and lie down in her own bed was one of the hardest things Jacy had ever done. Her body still pulsed and throbbed in places, alive with the aftershocks of the merciless pleasure Ian had shown her. She felt hypersensitive, as though even the merest touch would be too much, and when she had taken off her clothes she lay down naked on the bed and closed her eyes.
An instant later she was asleep.
It was hard facing him the next morning at breakfast. Jake had gone down to the springs, Ian told Jacy, to meditate. They both knew the truth—Jake wanted them to be alone together.
Jacy went to the percolator, her color high as she recalled the events of the night before, and poured coffee with a shaky hand.
She drew in her breath when she felt Ian behind her. He laid his hands on her hips possessively and kissed the side of her neck.
“We’re not going to pretend last night didn’t happen, love,” he warned gently. “It was magic, and I’ve never wanted a woman the way I wanted you.”
Jacy turned and looked up into his eyes, searching desperately for a lie, for any indication that he was about to hurt her again. Her blush heightened, but she blurted out her question all the same. “So when are we going to do something about that, Mr. Yarbro?”
He grinned, amused by her embarrassment, and though the light in his eyes was kindly, she saw an elemental passion blazing behind that. “As soon as possible,” he said. “I’ll get in touch with Collie and have him fly in a magistrate. As soon as you’re my wife we’ll have Alice take Chris home for the night, and you and I will complete our transaction.” He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. “We’ll need the house to ourselves that first time, because you’re going to make a whole lot of noise.”
Jacy smiled, leaning closer. “You might have to holler a couple of times yourself,” she predicted. She tilted her head back then, and Ian kissed her, and neither of them heard Jake come into the house.
He was in the kitchen with them before they noticed him, and that was only because he cleared his throat loudly.
Ian looked at his friend and frowned, and when Jacy turned to face her father she felt a flash of sudden, piercing fear. It was almost a premonition, and she pushed it away immediately.
Jake grinned; the ghost of the old mischief appeared briefly in his eyes. “Well? Is there something either of you would like to tell me?”
Jacy lowered her eyes, afraid even after all Ian’s reassurances to say the words aloud. It might jinx things, or maybe she would find herself back in bed, alone, waking up from a dream.
“I asked Jacy to marry me last night,” Ian said. He smiled down into her eyes, his hands resting on either side of her waist. “If she says no, I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
“I won’t say no,” she said.
And so it was settled.
Jacy drove Ian home in the truck, and Chris came hurtling out the back door the moment she’d brought the vehicle to a stop. Before opening the door to greet his son Ian reached over and passed his fingers ever so lightly across the top of Jacy’s thigh.
A hot shiver went through her, and despite her effort to hide it, Ian was completely aware of her response. In fact, it was almost as though he were inside her skin with her, sharing her breath and her heartbeat and every sensation that played in her nerve endings.
“Don’t worry, sheila,” he teased as Chris drew nearer. “I’ll take proper care of you, and soon.”
Jacy was trembling, glad she didn’t have to get out of the truck because she wasn’t sure her knees would hold her. She smiled as Chris flung himself into Ian’s arms.
“Remember,” she called to Chris in what she prayed was an ordinary voice, “school today.”
Chris made a face, and Ian ruffled the boy’s hair with a tenderness that touched a soft place in Jacy’s heart. Ian’s gaze, when he raised it to her face, was a man’s gaze, full of scandalous promises.
“I’ll bring him into town myself,” he told her. “I’ve some business with Collie, and with any luck he’ll be found in the Dog and Goose.”
She swallowed once and then nodded stupidly, not knowing what to say. Everything had happened so fast, and she couldn’t help fearing that Ian would suddenly change his mind and treat her with cold disdain again.
It would be too terrible, too humiliating to lose Ian again now, after the way she’d responded to him the night before. He’d heated her blood, and the underlying need of him was a warm, persistent ache, a desire only he could satisfy.
Jacy taught school that day, and the next, and the one after that. Every moment of that time Ian was in her mind, taking her over, preparing her for his conquering.
It was the following Saturday when Collie flew in with a magistrate in tow. The wedding itself was quiet, held in the living room of Ian’s homestead, with only Jake and Collie and Alice and Chris present, but it was understood that there would have to be a party soon. The community would expect to share in the celebration at some point, and disappointing so many old and loyal friends was unthinkable.
As it was, it seemed to Jacy that the festivities stretched interminably. In truth, the words were said, and they all had some of the cake Alice Wigget had made for the occasion, along with punch and a round or two of cold beer, and then Collie and the magistrate were ready to go.
“I’ll catch a lift with you, if you don’t mind,” Jake said to his old friend, the crazy bush pilot. “Just give me a moment to kiss the bride and shake the groom’s hand.”
His blue eyes shone as Jake looked deep in Jacy’s soul and smiled at whatever he saw there. “Behave yourself,” he said. He didn’t need to say he loved her; the emotion was almost palpable between them. He kissed her forehead and turned to shake Ian’s hand. “Be good to her, or so help me, I’ll set the devil himself on your trail and pay him overtime for his trouble.”
A light rain had started up, tapping gently at the windows and the porch roof. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Jacy thought she saw a deep sorrow in her new husband’s eyes as he said good-bye to Jake.
Mrs. Wigget and Chris were the next to leave. Chris was one big smile, and he’d already asked Jacy if he could call her Mum—except at school, of course. She’d hugged him close and kissed him soundly on top of the head and told him she’d always wanted somebody just about his size to call her Mum. Wasn’t it convenient that he’d offered?
“Come along now, Chris,” Alice nagged in her blustery but benign way. “We’ve got to stay ahead of this rain, and my cats will be expecting us back.” With that, they were gone, and the house was empty except for the bride and groom.
For one paralyzing moment Jacy wondered what she’d gotten herself into. She didn’t love this man, however much he stirred her senses, and yet she’d married him. And she was committed to Chris now, too; a little boy was counting on her to be there for him.
Ian came to stand facing her, in the shadowy living room draped with sagging crepe paper streamers, and curved a finger under her chin. “No doubts, my love,” he ordered gruffly. “This is a night for believing in miracles.”
He touched his lips to hers then, not with passion but with a devastating tenderness, and Jacy believed, because that kiss was a miracle in and of itself.
“And now,” he said, when at last he drew back, “you have a promise or two to keep.” He lifted her easily into his arms and started toward the stairs, and Jacy thought the anticipation alone would be the end of her. “Or do you plan to go back on your word?”
Jacy gave her groom a saucy smile. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing we’re alone, Mr. Yarbro, because in about five minutes I’ll be the one doing the loving, and you’ll be the one making all the noise.”
He grinned wickedly. “We’ll see,” he said.
Ian carried her the length of the hallway and into his room, where the rain played lively, welcome music on the roof, and Jacy was determined to make good on her promise.