Daring Masquerade (23 page)

"Yeah, well." Ross grinned. "She's pregnant."

"Already? I mean..." Jack's face turned red with embarrassment.

"Lucky we got married when we did, eh?"

"So it seems. Congratulations." Jack helped himself to a cup of tea. "We should be drinking champagne."

"Plenty of time for that. I'm afraid this will be an added burden for you."

"This won't be a burden. This is a pleasure. I've been waiting to hear news like this for years."

"Listen, Jack. No matter what Mrs. Bates says, she's too old to be delivering babies. You ensure Harry has a doctor. She's stubborn and pig-headed, but she'll listen to you."

"Don't worry, you can rely on me, but let's get going. There have been strangers poking around," the old man went on. "Surveying the crown land for that bloody mill I suspect."

"They're not getting access through here and that's final."

"We mightn't have any say in it, son, if the government wants timber for the war effort."

"What the hell do they need timber for? We don't fire wooden bullets, for God's sake."

"I know. The war is only an excuse for them. Money has passed hands, big money, if I'm any judge. They're having a meeting in town next week about it."

"I'll probably be on my way to France by then."

"Don't worry, my boy, I'll be going to the meeting. They're trying to drum up support from the townsfolk."

"I'll bet they are. So much damage for short term profit." Ross slammed his fist on the table. "It's obscene."

* * *

When Harry woke up the sun beamed from high in the sky. She could not remember when she last slept in so late, but a lot had happened over the last few days. Mrs. Bates was already in the kitchen, making bread, when she finally wandered down.

"Good morning, Miss Harry."

"Good morning. I've slept in. Sorry. I meant to come down early and put the copper on."

"It's already done, dear. There's a fresh pot of tea on the table. What would you like for breakfast?"

Harry sat down. "Nothing much thanks. Some toast will do."

"You need something more substantial. Bacon and eggs?"

"No thanks, I couldn't." The thought nauseated her. "I have to be careful what I eat now, otherwise I feel sick. I'm going to have a baby."

"Oh, Miss Harry." Tears sprang to the old housekeeper's eyes. "Does Mr. Ross know?"

"Yes, I told him last night. He's probably told Jack by now."

When the washing in the copper was done, Harry used an old broom handle to transfer the linen into the concrete trough to soak.

By the time she returned to the kitchen. Mrs. Bates was preparing the ironing. Harry nearly asked her why she did not wait until the rest of the washing was dry. She sat at the table rolling the clothes up after Mrs. Bates dampened them down with water from a sauce bottle that had holes punched into the lid. One end of the table was covered with a blanket and an old sheet, while two flat irons heated on the stove.

"Would you like a hand with the ironing?"

"No dear. Never did mind ironing. I sit down when I do it now as my varicose veins have been playing up."

Harry wandered outside, automatically heading towards Eric's little pine plantation. In the cool shade the pine needles had formed a thick carpet. In some places they had built up into quite large drifts and she could easily imagine a child hiding here. She inhaled the spicy fresh perfume as she sat down and supported her back against the trunk of a fallen tree, pulled her legs up and rested her head on her knees. Closing her eyes she let her mind drift away to another time, when she roamed the countryside near their home with Gil.

"We'll be rich one day," he used to say. "We'll buy a sheep station."

"Sheep stink," she always said.

"All right, a cattle station."

Strange how the hand of fate dealt out the cards. She was rich, well Ross was, but Gil wasn't here to enjoy it with her. Tears pricked at her tightly closed eyes but she dared not let them fall.

"Fly free, Gil," she whispered, knowing she would not wish him back to suffer again.

Hearing a cooing sound, she glanced up. Two white doves sat on a branch, and she imagined them to be the spirits of two young soldiers wandering free on Devil's Ridge. Please God, she prayed desperately, don't make it three.

"Well, if I haven't found myself a little wood nymph, hiding in the pine trees." Ross stood in front of her, a wide smile emphasizing dimples on either side of his mouth.

"How long have you been here?"

"A few seconds."

Harry sensed it was longer than that.

"I wanted to take you up on your offer," he said, squatting beside her.

"What offer?" She deliberately teased him.

"To spend the night on the mountain."

"Could we?" She flung her arms around his neck. "It's my favorite place in the whole world."

"Come on, we'll have a quick lunch first. Jack's going to saddle up and get the gear ready for us."

She bounded to her feet and smoothed her skirt down.

"Can I wear pants?" she asked, knowing she would anyway.

"Yes, it's easier for riding. I want to remember my little Harry the way I first saw her."

"I love you so much." She pressed her lips to his scar, barely visible now, except for a slight puckering of the skin.

He crushed her to him, his mouth swooped on hers, staking his claim. Harry sensed his sudden desperation and returned his kisses with fervor, straining herself closer to him.

"Oh, God," he groaned, dragging his lips away, but still holding her close. "We'll never get to the mountain if we keep this up." He nuzzled into the warm, soft flesh of her throat.

"You want to make love to me here?" She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, feeling absolutely wanton.

"Not here," he said frantically, obviously fighting his rising tide of desire. "Someone might come over here and catch us. But tonight we'll make love under the Southern Cross. Our bed will be the soft mountain grasses and wild flowers. The walls of our love nest will be the mountain ash and kurrajongs. We'll make love as we've never made love before," he vowed passionately. "Tonight will be ours. The whole mountain will belong to us. We'll be the only people left in the world. When I go to France, I'll carry this in my heart. It will sustain me, give me strength to do my duty whatever that entails."

"Don't go," she pleaded.

"I have to. I'm afraid. I don't want to leave you, not now, but I must. The Empire needs me. My men need me and I can't let them down."

"You've done your share." She rested her head on his chest and felt the pounding of his heart.

"No, I haven't done enough, the job isn't finished yet. I'm fit and able. I'm an experienced field officer. It's my duty to go back."

They set off as soon as the sun rose in the sky. Squawking parrots flew around them. The breeze blowing down from the higher peaks contained a special perfume all of its own. No words passed between them. This was a special closeness of two people perfectly attuned to each other.

He looked magnificent on horseback, riding straight and tall in the saddle, with his wide brimmed hat pulled down over his forehead, his hands resting easily on the reins. She engraved this picture on her mind. It would sustain her in the long, lonely months ahead. Maybe it would be years before they again shared time like this.

Maybe never.

The dark clouds of war blotted out the sun, and apprehension shivered all the way through her; instinctively she moved her horse closer to his. Every now and again their legs brushed and she felt somehow bereft when the winding track narrowed to such an extent they needed to ride single file.

Finally, they arrived at the plateau and Ross' hut, resting serenely against a backdrop of blue gums and mountain ash. He unsaddled their horses and let them loose in one of the holding yards.

Mrs. Bates had provided fresh bread, cold meat and some of her homemade biscuits. They would catch fish for their supper, and cooked in a fry pan over an open fire, her mouth watered at the prospect.

Smiling, he strode towards her. "What shall we do now?

"Go for a walk, have a swim, then catch some fish for supper." She sashayed up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Only if you want to, though."

"I want to."

They took a blanket, towels and a fishing line to the creek and set everything up on the sand. Hand in hand, they headed towards the higher peaks, stopping every now and again to share a kiss. Such magic. She never wanted it to end.

They clambered over rocks and waded through tree ferns that grew higher than Ross' head, and he was a fraction under six feet tall. Moss and wild violets hid in the crevices between the rocks.

"I'll show you a cave Eric and I discovered years ago."

The cool dampness inside the cave refreshed her. Was that muted splashing sound water tumbling over rocks?

"There's a waterfall at the back of the cave. Must have been a fall of rock years ago because it's almost completely sealed off now. Eric tried to crawl through one of the openings and got stuck. I had the devil of a job trying to pull him free. I'd say this used to be a canyon before it got blocked off. The roof isn't all rock, either."

Glancing up, she saw massive tree roots and vines forming a solid canopy above them. The floor was sandy, and as the breeze blew in, it made a soft whirring noise. Such isolation and pristine beauty was humbling.

He drew her into his arms and kissed her. It was obvious, that like her, he had more chance of mastering the rugged battlements towering above them than controlling his passion.

Stepping away from him she stripped off her shirt and trousers, which she spread out on the ground. She danced and pirouetted in front of him like a ballerina, wild, uninhibited.

His fingers trembled so much he had trouble undoing the buttons on his shirt. She stopped her erotic dance, moved his hands to one side and tugged his shirt off before he could even form a protest. Shifting her hands, she started working on his pants. She dragged them down over his buttocks. Kneeling down with her head pressed against his thigh, she rolled them the rest of the way down and he kicked his feet out of them.

He gazed down at her. She raised her head and blinked back tears of emotion. Tentatively, she put out her tongue and touched his fully aroused manhood. She kissed him before standing up. Slowly, as if in a trance, he wrapped his arms around her and lowered them to the ground.

Her need matched his. Her thrusting hips and the sweet scent of her arousal would tell him all he needed to know. She couldn't wait

It finished quickly, this moment too poignant to sustain for anything but the briefest time. Such a peak of desperate intensity, of need so great it transcended anything else; common sense, Edwardian morality—and war.

She instinctively knew this was goodbye. He was going far away, thousands of miles across the sea, and leaving her behind. These few hours might have to last her a lifetime, because there would never be another man for her. His heart was entwined with hers, embedded into her soul, and if he died, he would take her love with him to the grave.

"Oh, God," he whispered. "How did I get lucky enough to meet someone like you?"

They lay together facing each other, joined as only a man and a woman can be.

"I love you. There will never be another man for me. You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes. I rode into town this morning to square things away at the bank for you. Andrew had left a message for me. We'll be sailing before the week is out."

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

She felt his mouth grazing her nipple and gasped with delight as his hand cupped one cheek of her bottom to push them even closer together. His lovemaking was not hurried this time, as he touched and caressed her. As she felt him hardening inside her, wild tumultuous excitement spiraled from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

A sudden explosion of light was so bright, so intense she had to close her eyes or risk being blinded. He cried out her name. From a million miles away she heard it, but could not reply. Her nerve endings ignited, her femininity seared with heat, convulsing madly as he started moving inside her with deep, powerful strokes, forcing her to the brink of sanity. Her legs tightened as they encircled his waist so he could not move away, or stop the exquisite torture. The bang inside her head sounded like a mighty clap of thunder, and they rocked together in a frenzy, becoming one in a frantic coupling as he exploded inside her.

Don't go away and leave me, she wanted to beg him, but didn't. It would only make things harder for him.

"We've got the rest of the afternoon and tonight," she whispered bravely. So little time. So little time.

She dozed in his arms for a short time until his voice roused her. "Time to be heading back if we want a swim. The water will be too cold if we leave it much longer."

They pulled on their clothes, and he clasped her hand to lead her towards a ledge jutting out from a rocky cliff. They stood in silent companionship, drinking in the magnificent vista spread out before them.

"You can see for miles around." He pointed with one hand, keeping her close with the other. "To the left, see where the wisp of smoke is, that's the homestead."

"It's like a doll's house."

"I know. Further over there's the town, and that curving silver ribbon, is the railway line to Melbourne."

"It's so beautiful, makes me feel kind of sad," she whispered.

"Awe inspiring, I've always thought. Leaves me lost for words sometimes."

"It's not only what we see," she mused. "There's an aura about the place."

"Yes." He hugged her tight. "I've always felt the same way. Don't let the timber cutters spoil it. This is our legacy to our children, and in turn their children also. I'm relying on you. Fight them." His hand bunched into firsts. "Fight them in the courts if you have to. Jack will back you up. If you ever need someone in authority to help you, there's a judge, Sir Thomas Renshaw. Eric saved his son Matty on Gallipoli."