The Australian (15 page)

Her face flamed. “I always thought...men gave out.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn. And someday soon,” he added with an intent stare, “I’m going to teach you all of it.”

She steeled herself to refuse. “I won’t have an affair with you—I’ve already said that.”

“I know.” He moved back to the sofa and sat down beside her. His face was solemn as he drew a box out of the pockets of his bush jacket and pressed it into her hands. “Open that when you get home. I’ll come for you first thing in the morning, and we’ll talk.”

She touched the gray felt of the small box lightly, her eyes conveying her puzzlement.

“Don’t open it until you get home,” he repeated. He bent and kissed her mouth tenderly. “And don’t worry yourself to death about my motives. Think about what life will be like without me. Because I’ve already considered that question. And I’ve decided that no life at all would be better than living without you.”

She hardly heard anything else he said for the rest of the evening. She was still in a daze when he took her home, and she mumbled something to the boys, forgot to say anything at all to John, and went into her house at ten o’clock feeling as if she’d been out all night.

It wasn’t until she was in bed that she opened the tiny box with trembling fingers and looked at its contents. It was a blazing emerald, small but perfect, in a gold setting. The engagement ring was accompanied by a solid-gold band with the same intricate design. She watched it blur before her eyes and only then realized that she was crying.

All the long years she’d loved John Sterling, she’d never imagined how it might feel if he bought her a ring. He hadn’t when he’d proposed in Hawaii; he hadn’t even mentioned buying a ring. And now here it was, without the proposal, and she didn’t think she had enough strength in her body to turn him down.

For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer...she didn’t mind that he wasn’t rich. She’d work beside him. She’d take care of him. And at night she’d sleep in his big arms. And in time would come children. Then perhaps he’d grow to love her. Perhaps the physical need he had of her would grow into an emotional one and what she felt for him would be returned.

There was, though, the chance that it wouldn’t. Yet when she thought about living the rest of her life without him, it was a chance she was willing to take. She knew there’d never be another man. She didn’t want anyone else. She hadn’t in five years.

Her fingers trembled as she took the emerald out and slid it onto her wedding finger, finding the fit perfect. Her eyes closed in a silent prayer. This time it had to work. This time she had to make him love her. It was already too late to run away. She was more deeply in love than she had been at eighteen. Too much in love to let go.

Chapter Twelve

Naturally Priss didn’t sleep all night. She climbed out of bed at 5:00 a.m. with bloodshot eyes and tugged on a frilly long white robe over her blue pajamas before she dragged herself to the kitchen to start breakfast.

Her parents were still asleep, and she felt as if she were sleepwalking herself. She yawned as she put the biscuits she’d just rolled out into the oven and started the coffee.

A noise in the yard caught her attention. It sounded very much like a car engine, but surely John wouldn’t be here at five in the morning...

She opened the door and he came up the back steps into the house. He looked as tired as she felt. He was wearing his work clothing, pale drill trousers with a khaki bush shirt and the slouch hat he wore to work cattle. He took off the hat and closed the door and stared down at her with eyes so blue and piercing, they made her heart race.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he explained softly, searching her sleepy face. “I’ve hardly slept.”

“Me, too,” she returned.

He tossed his hat onto the counter and sighed. “Well?”

She felt shy with him. Eighteen all over again and half afraid of his formidable masculinity. Instead of answering him, she held out her left hand, where the emerald ring sparkled with green fire in the kitchen light.

His breath caught. His eyes closed. “Thank God,” he uttered. And he reached for her.

She held him as hard as he was holding her, overwhelmed by the pleasure of belonging to him at last.

“I’ve never wanted anything so much,” he breathed over her head, rocking her gently in his enveloping arms. “No regrets, Priss?”

She drew in a slow breath, and all the old doubts gnawed at her for a minute. “Not...regrets, no. But...” She drew back to look up into his tanned face. “John, you’re sure this time?”

His face hardened as he read the uncertainty and fear of rejection that lay naked in her pale green eyes.

“If it’s any consolation, what I did to you will haunt me all my life,” he replied quietly. “Yes, I’m sure this time. No, I’m not going to back out at the last minute. We’re going to get married and live together and build a life for ourselves.”

Her eyes misted, and she smiled wobbily at him. “Gee, that sounds nice,” she whispered. “I feel all eighteen and nervous again.”

His fingers touched her disheveled hair, and his eyes ran over her with possession in their twinkling depths. “You look about that this morning,” he agreed with a warm smile. “I didn’t know you liked pajamas.”

She smiled. “I can wear nightgowns after we’re married, if you like.”

“I’d like it better if you don’t wear anything at all,” he teased. “I don’t.”

Her face colored, and he seemed to like that. He bent and touched her mouth lazily with his. “You belong to me now,” he whispered, and lifted her high in his arms. “That’s better. You’re short without shoes.”

“Because you’re so big.”

“I’ll take care of you, Priss,” he promised, searching her eyes. “We won’t have a lot, but I’ll try to ensure you never regret marrying me.”

She studied his hard face with loving eyes. At least he was willing to commit himself this far, she thought. Perhaps love would come eventually.

“I’ll never regret it,” she promised, meaning it. She tugged his head down to hers and kissed him softly, slowly, savoring the very texture of his hard lips. His arms contracted. She felt his chest crushing her breasts gently, felt the long powerful line of his legs against hers and moaned, clinging to his broad shoulders.

They were so lost in each other, they didn’t hear the door open, or see the stunned, then delighted look that Adam and Renée exchanged.

“Ahem!” Renée grinned.

They broke apart, looking guilty, and then John started laughing.

“It isn’t quite as bad as it looks,” he said with a wicked glance at Priss, who was clinging to his side. “I haven’t been here all night.”

“I don’t know about that,” Adam gibed with a mischievous smile. “You both look guilty as sin to me.”

“Yes, they do, don’t they?” Renée added fondly.

“Actually, we’ve been sealing our engagement,” John volunteered.

Priss held out her hand, and her eyes were the same fiery sparkling emerald as the stone. “We’re going to be married,” she said in a voice that was husky with feeling. She was sure her feet were floating above the floor.

After that was pandemonium. It wasn’t until they were all sitting at the table eating breakfast that there was a break in the conversation.

“Well, when is the wedding?” Adam inquired.

“As soon as I can get a license,” John said firmly, glancing at Priss. “I’ve waited five years. I won’t wait any longer.”

“That suits me very well,” Priss added. “We can be married here, can’t we, Mom?”

Renée was staring blankly at her daughter. “Here?”

“Well, yes. Just the minister and all of us and maybe Randy and Latrice...?”

Renée let her breath out. “It sounds just like us, doesn’t it, darling?” she addressed Adam, laughing. “We did the same thing, you know. It’s better than a large wedding, really; much less anxiety.”

“Also much quicker.” Adam grinned at John.

John grinned back. “We’re both so old, we need all the time we can get; don’t we, darling?” he added, winking at Priss.

“Speak for yourself, old fossil,” she told him as she dug into her scrambled eggs. “I’m a mere child, myself.”

“That’s no way to talk to your future husband,” John chided sternly.

“Excuse me, darling,” she cooed, relishing the word as she peeked at him through her lashes. “You just give the orders, and I’ll ignore them. All right?”

John sighed. “I can see that we’re going to have to have a long talk about some of the finer details of marriage.”

“Okay,” Priss agreed. She laid down her fork. “What would you like to know?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I’ve done myself in!”

She only smiled. “Yes, darling,” she replied seductively, and batted her eyelashes at him. “Lucky, lucky you!”

He didn’t laugh then. He just searched her face with soft intent eyes. “Luckier than you know,” he responded. “I’ll check on the license today,” he added, dragging his eyes back to Adam and Renée.

Priss just stared at him, her gaze so full of love that Renée had to drop her eyes.

* * *

The next two weeks seemed to go by in a flurry of activity, as Priss tried to balance work and daydreaming, and being with John every evening.

He didn’t press his advantage, now that they were totally committed to each other. He was more friend than lover, and they talked to each other as never before. She learned that he liked classical music, and he learned that she was an old-motion-picture fanatic. They discovered mutual interests in ballet and opera and art. And every day she grew to love him more. All her doubts and uncertainties slowly faded as she realized that nothing was going to stop the wedding this time.

He surprised her by phoning Margaret and having a wedding dress identical to the one she’d chosen five years before flown in from Hawaii. It was a measure of the regard he felt for her, she saw, and she felt a fleeting regret that he couldn’t love her as she loved him. But at least he liked her, she consoled herself, and after they had children, surely he’d grow fonder of her.

The ceremony was held at Priss’s home, and Randy and Latrice were there as well as Ronald George and Betty Gaines. Even the twins were invited, and they astounded the assembled company with perfect textbook etiquette. Latrice and Randy looked like newlyweds themselves, and Latrice was actually sitting with her sons, hugging them, before the ceremony began.

Ronald George came forward to offer his congratulations, extending his hand warily to John as if he expected it would be instantly removed. But John didn’t say an unkind word. He only smiled.

Minutes later the ceremony began, and Priss clutched her small wildflower bouquet in her hand as they stood before the minister and the words of the marriage service were spoken.

When the minister came to the part about speaking now or forever holding your peace, Priss froze. She darted a glance up at John, all her old fears haunting her. But he looked down at her and smiled slowly, softly, and she relaxed.

He slid the wedding band that matched her engagement ring onto her finger and repeated the appropriate words with so much feeling that Priss felt tears sting her eyes. When she added her own part, and the minister concluded the ceremony, tears were rolling unashamedly down her cheeks.

She kept her eyes open as John bent to kiss her, and so did he. She thought there had never been a more beautiful time in her entire life. For so many years she’d worshipped him, and now he was her husband. He belonged to her.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, lifting his mouth. “This is only the beginning. The best is yet to come.”

She tried to smile, and he kissed her wet eyelids closed. They were surrounded by well-wishers during the next few minutes, and in the excitement of cutting the cake and changing into her beige traveling suit and saying good-bye to her parents, there was no time to think.

Minutes later they drove away in John’s Ford, waving good-bye. They would spend the night in Brisbane before boarding a plane to Hawaii the next morning for a brief honeymoon. A substitute teacher had been engaged to fill Priss’s place for the few days that John could afford to be away from the station.

“Next year, I’ll take you to the States,” he promised as they drove away.

“I don’t mind if we never go anywhere, as long as we’re together,” she said quietly. She squeezed the fingers that he had imprisoned on his thigh and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Five years,” he said unexpectedly, and his eyes were stormy. His jaw was clenched, making the dimple more prominent. He looked formidable at that moment, and Priss stared at him uneasily.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you sorry that we—”

“No!” He glanced at her quickly, then dragged his eyes back to the road. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. “I’m only sorry that we wasted so many years because of my damned black pride, that’s all.”

“Maybe it was for the best,” she said gently. “I was very young.”

“You still are, in all the ways that count. You make me feel like celebrating every time you smile at me,” he said unexpectedly.

“In that case, I’ll smile a lot,” she promised. Her eyes searched his profile dreamily. “I used to hide and watch you when you’d ride the fence line,” she mused. “I thought you were the handsomest man on earth.”

“Did you?” He chuckled.

“I still do. There was never anyone who compared with you, in all those years.” Her eyes dropped to his white collar and missed the look of love on his face. “Eventually I gave up looking.”

“I’m glad of that,” he acknowledged quietly. “I used to have nightmares about hearing that you’d married someone in Hawaii.”

“Did you really?” she asked. Her eyes fell. “I had the same nightmares about you and Janie Weeks.”

There was a long poignant silence. “We’ll talk about that when we get to the hotel in Brisbane,” he said then. “It’s time, past time, that we cleared the air about Janie. And a few other things.” He studied her intently. “Turn on the radio, will you, love?”

She tuned in a pop channel and snuggled close to him. All the rest of the way, not one word broke into the music. She closed her eyes, pretending he loved her.

They arrived in Brisbane about dusk and checked into an exclusive hotel on the beach. John had said that this one luxury would have to last a long time, but she didn’t mind. Anywhere with John was heaven: she wouldn’t have minded camping on the beach in a tent.

Once they got upstairs, she took advantage of the huge whirlpool tub to soak away the tiredness of the long day. She’d had some wild idea that her wedding night would be conventional. That John would take her out to supper, bring her back to the room, and that then their married life would begin. But knowing John, she should have expected what happened.

She was lying in the enormous bathtub, surrounded by soap bubbles, enjoying the soft gyration of the water as the whirlpool jetted currents all around her in its gentlest cycle. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t hear a sound until the bathroom door suddenly closed.

She opened her eyes, and John cocked an eyebrow at her wild blush. She was startled to see him as nude as she was, bronzed skin rippling under the dark blond hair that covered his broad chest, muscular stomach, flat hips, and long powerful legs.

“You might as well get used to me,” he murmured. “I’m not going to spend our married life undressing in closets, and I sleep like this.” He tossed his robe over the vanity chair. “Feel like company in there?” He nodded toward the tub.

She swallowed. It was all happening so fast. He’s my husband, she told herself firmly. We’re married. I have to forget all my hang-ups now; it’s all right to sleep with him.

“Yes,” she managed in a strangled voice. Her eyes measured him. “Is the tub going to be big enough?” she asked.

He searched her eyes. “Yes. More than adequate for what I have in mind, Mrs. Sterling.”

She moved over, watching him approach, long-legged, slim-hipped, powerfully built. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—even more sensuous than the Greek statues that had fascinated her in school.

“This is kinky,” she commented impishly as he eased down into the tub with her.

“Why?” he asked.

The contact with his long bare body was doing frightening things to her nerves. Her whole body tensed deliciously as she felt his powerful thigh against hers, as his arm went around her shoulders and she felt its warm weight.

“Bathing together?” She laughed.

He looked down at her with amused eyes. “Don’t you like it? The government will be delighted that we’re saving water.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” The soap bubbles hid most of her from his curious eyes, and vice versa, but she was still blushing. “Oh, John, I’ve got the most horrible hang-ups about sex,” she blurted out, and turned to bury her face against the wet mat of hair over his chest.

He chuckled softly, holding her there. “Why?”