The Australian (7 page)

“You can imagine it, can’t you?” she asked perceptively. “So can I. Every second of it.”

“You don’t even know what to expect,” he chided.

“Yes, I do.” She sat up, too, staring into his eyes. “I’m not that naive. I know exactly what you’ll do to me, and how. And I’ll bite you, and wrap my legs around you, and move my body...”

His mouth hit hers with the force of a tidal wave. He crushed her down into the sofa, his body moving roughly on hers, and she reacted like any woman in love. Her body ached for his, to know it. Her eyes misted with tears as she struggled to make him lose control, to give her what her body was starving for.

But he wasn’t a boy, and he could see all too clearly what the consequences would be. Despite the raging desire that consumed him, he tore his body away from hers and rolled onto his back, dragging in air.

“John,” she moaned.

He pulled her close against his side and smoothed her long unruly hair. “Close your eyes. It passes. Remember?” he added roguishly.

She blushed, smiling back. “That was my fault. I liked having my way with you,” she recalled.

“Someday soon, I’ll enjoy letting you. But not,” he added with mock anger, “when my hands are tied. It’s all or nothing with me, Priss, as you should damned well know by now.”

She stared up at his face lovingly. “I guess I can wait, if you can.”

“We’ll struggle through together,” he said with a grin. “Now, get up. God knows what Margaret would say if she walked in.”

“As a matter of fact, she did say something about not betraying her trust,” Priss confessed.

“What an interesting time to tell me,” he returned. He pulled her to her feet, putting her wrists behind her back so he could study her young beauty with eyes that couldn’t seem to get enough of it. “Lovely Priscilla,” he said finally. “I’ll never tire of looking at you. You’re beaut.”

The deep slow drawl made her tingle. She smiled at him, a woman so completely in love that happiness radiated from every pore of her skin. “So are you.”

He breathed deliberately, forcing his heart to behave. “Go to bed,” he ordered, bending to kiss her delicately on the mouth. “We’ll talk some more in the morning, when it’s safer.”

Her eyes searched his. “Can’t I sleep with you?”

His jaw tensed. “No.”

“Just sleep,” she pleaded.

He put her away from him with a curt laugh. “I can see that. Sleeping, with you in my arms.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Couldn’t you?”

He glanced down at her with impatient amusement. “You are a green one, aren’t you? No, darling, I couldn’t. I want you.” At her confused stare, he drew her against his powerful body and deliberately moved her hips against his. “Want,” he emphasized even as her mind made the connection between the changed contours of his body and the words.

“Oh,” she exclaimed softly.

His shadowy eyes surveyed hers. “Didn’t you understand?” he asked gently. “It’s uncomfortable for a man.”

Her face flushed with color as she met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I really do have a lot to learn.”

“It will be fascinating,” he murmured, watching her draw discreetly away.

“What will?”

“Shocking you speechless on our wedding night,” he said with a wicked grin. “I’ll live on the very thought for the next few months.”

“John Sterling! And I thought you were a gentleman.”

“Remind me, after we’re married, to give you the real definition of that word: it’s an eye-opener.”

“Do I have to go?” she protested.

His bright eyes twinkled. “Unless you want to be attacked.”

She sidestepped his playful grab, laughing, bubbling with joy, gloriously beautiful with her pale blonde hair curling around her shoulders in a cloud, and her emerald eyes challenging him from the perfect oval of her lovely face.

“I’ll go,” she said. “It must be the tropical air getting to your brain.”

“It’s more a case of you getting to my body,” he taunted, his eyes sparkling.

She forced her legs to carry her to the door, and turned back to stare at him, at the thick blond-streaked brown hair her fingers had mussed, at the sensuous look of him with his shirt unbuttoned, his mouth faintly swollen, his eyes glittering with desire.

“I’ll be the best wife you ever imagined,” she said softly. “I’ll love you and give you children, and never even complain when you track mud onto my clean carpets.” She grinned. “And in bed, once you teach me how, I’ll just blow your mind, Jonathan Sterling.”

He smiled slowly. “I can hardly wait.”

“Sweet dreams...darling,” she added, feeling wildly adult and passionate and loved. He hadn’t said the words, but he must feel them. She was sure that he did. Otherwise why would he want to marry her when he’d always clung to his freedom? When he smiled back at her, all the tiny doubts rushed away in a surge of wonder, and she danced out the door and into bed, humming a love song under her breath.

* * *

The next morning he was sitting at the breakfast table with Margaret when Priscilla got downstairs. She’d overslept and it was midmorning, and she looked as flustered as she felt.

“It’s about time,” John said with a grimace. “Some way for a newly engaged woman to behave, I’ll tell you.”

Margaret was grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll leave you two to discuss your future alone, while I call Renée and Adam and just burst with pride.”

John and Priss laughed as she retreated in a bustle.

“Mom will have it all over the valley before you get back,” Priss warned him. “Perhaps you’d better call your mother...”

“I told Mother before I left Australia,” he said softly. “She was thrilled at my excellent taste in women. Come here, for God’s sake!”

She settled down in his lap and smiled into his amused eyes. “I like this a lot,” she told him, teasing his mouth with hers. “And I am going to love,” she kissed him again, “getting my hands,” she bit at his lower lip, “on your body...!”

He was kissing her hard, and her head went back under the pressure. She clung to him, trying to be what he wanted, trying to meet his passion with her own.

“When will you learn,” he murmured breathlessly, “that I like your mouth open when we kiss?”

“Oh,” she whispered back, shaken. She parted her lips and touched them to his. “Like this?”

“Yes...”

She felt the penetrating warmth of his tongue, deeply searching, arousing, and she began to ache in the oddest places. Her nails clawed into the big muscles of his upper arms as he held her tight against him.

“Why do you wear these things?” he groaned, searching under her T-shirt and finding a lacy little wisp of fabric in his way.

“Take it off if you don’t like it.” She laughed.

“With Margaret a few steps away?” He chuckled, but his voice was unsteady. He lifted his shaggy head and stared into her eyes warmly. “I’d much prefer your breasts to scrambled eggs, if you want to know.”

She blushed from her cheeks down to her throat, and he watched with unholy amusement. “How old did you say you were?” he provoked.

“Almost nineteen,” she returned with a flash of spirit. “And just be conceited, while you can. Someday I’ll be shocking you!”

“I don’t doubt it a bit,” he agreed, smiling as he kissed her again, but softly this time. His hand pressed over her breast, and it was warm and strong even through the fabric. “I like stroking you here,” he whispered, moving his fingers slowly, erotically.

Her lips opened as she struggled for breath. She looked into his dark hard face with awe. “I like it, too. Your hands...are so big.”

“You’re not big at all,” he said gently. “You’re delicate and soft and you always smell of gardenias. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of making love to you.”

“I can just see you doing that while you herd cattle.” She laughed unsteadily.

“Mustering,” he corrected. “In Australia, we muster mobs of cattle.”

“In America, we have laws against the mob, and we punch cattle. And we have ranches, not stations. And—”

“And you talk a lot.” He stopped her banter with his lips. “Slide that little hand inside my shirt, and touch me the way I’m touching you. I like being stroked, too.”

“Really?” she breathed, all eyes.

“Really.”

She’d gotten the first two buttons undone when footsteps sounded in the hall and she groaned. “Oh, damn, just when I’m getting the hang of it...”

“Not my fault.” He laughed softly, letting her get to her feet. “You should have hurried.”

“Just you wait,” she threatened as she straightened her T-shirt.

“I’ll try,” he sighed, studying her slender lovely body. “But I’ll ache in the damnedest places until then.”

She turned away, blushing wildly, as Margaret came back into the room, beaming, full of news from home, the biggest part of it being how thrilled Renée and Adam were about the engagement. And once she started, John and Priss didn’t have a chance for further conversation.

Before she knew it, it was time to go with John to the airport. He seemed as reluctant as she felt, and he clung warmly to her hand in the cab and through the terminal. She stopped when he reached Customs and Immigration, and her eyes blurred with tears as she looked up into the rough, broad face she loved so much.

“Don’t look like that, or I won’t be able to leave you,” he breathed. “God, Priss, I’d give anything to take you with me!”

“Would I fit in your pocket?”

“Not quite, I’m afraid.” He pulled her against him. “Although without your high heels, you barely come to my chin.”

“John,” she said, scanning his face, “you meant it, didn’t you? You do want to marry me?”

“Would I have asked you, if I didn’t?” he mocked. “After all,” he added, bending to whisper, “I haven’t seduced you, and we don’t have to rush to the altar before your waistline expands, do we?”

She reddened and grinned at him. “I thought about it last night,” she confessed. “I thought about taking my clothes off and climbing into bed with you.”

“What stopped you?” he asked.

She shrugged, staring at the gray vest of his suit. “I was afraid you might not like being seduced.”

He tilted up her chin. “I find the idea wildly exciting,” he confided, holding her gaze. “I’d like letting you make love to me.”

“Oh, John,” she wailed helplessly.

“Too late now.” He chuckled.

Her lips smoothed over his, and he stopped laughing and kissed her with hungry passion. His arms crushed her, and his mouth devoured, penetrating, arousing, and she stood there and let him do what he wanted, drowning in the love she felt for him, loving his ardor. Her arms clung around his neck, and she felt her legs tremble when he lifted his head.

“Want me, Priss?” he whispered unsteadily, with blazing eyes. “I want you, too.”

“Yes, I can feel...I mean...” she faltered, drawing away a little in embarrassment.

“We’re going to be married,” he said softly. “It’s all right if we know intimate things about each other now.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He brushed his lips over her closed eyelids. “When we’re together again,” he whispered, “we’ll undress each other and lie together and make out like crazy. I’ll try to get back next month, or maybe you can come home.”

Her heart was beating so wildly, it hurt her. She buried her face against him, trembling with frustrated ardor. “Could we do that,” she questioned unsteadily, “and not go all the way?”

“Yes, I think so,” he responded. He drew her close, holding her in a warm embrace, his face against her hair. “I want to do this right. I don’t want to anticipate our wedding night, but there are other paths to fulfillment besides the obvious one, little innocent,” he whispered softly. “I’ll teach you some of them....”

“John,” she moaned, clenching her teeth as the wanting became suddenly unbearable.

“Soon, darling,” he assured her. He hugged her bruisingly close, and his mouth searched for hers. He kissed her hotly for a long time, and his face was ruddy with frustration when he finally drew away. His nostrils flared as he observed her bright eyes. “Wait for me,” he said curtly. “No more dates with the college boy.”

“No more,” she promised. She smiled slowly. “No more dates for you, either.”

“Fat chance,” he chuckled. “Every woman I see looks like you these days. Be good, love.”

“You, too.”

He winked and turned to walk away. She lifted a hand toward him, wanting to call out, wanting to say, I love you. But she didn’t. She watched his tall broad-shouldered back until he was out of sight. And then she went back to Margaret’s, torn between joy and grief. The waiting was going to be horrible. She didn’t know how she could survive it, now that he was going to be hers, at last.

John. Her husband. The thought would sustain her, like water to a desert survivor. She imagined them together in bed, straining against each other in the darkness, loving each other with their bodies. She imagined them with children, John carrying a little boy on his shoulders and laughing. She imagined them being together in the evenings, sitting together while he worked on the books and she graded papers. The dreams were beautiful. And the memories of how it had been between them physically were as satisfying as the dreams.

Chapter Five

Priss couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d been so happy. The hidden photograph in her wallet came out of hiding. She showed it to Ronald—to all her friends—with such radiant love and pride that she glowed like a new penny. John was hers at last. Hers!

She rushed downtown to an exclusive department store, where Margaret had an account, and searched for hours until she found just the wedding gown she wanted. It was a dream of a gown, with a keyhole neckline and yards of lace and satin and a floor-length veil. She sighed over it as the saleslady smilingly put it away in a box. Priss could just see how she’d look walking down the aisle to John in it.

She came back to Margaret’s house with stars in her eyes. “You don’t mind that I used your card, do you?” Priss asked belatedly when Aunt Margaret seemed hesitant.

“No, darling, of course not,” Margaret said gently. “It’s just that...well, don’t you think it might be better to wait a bit on the gown? Just until you and John set a definite date?”

Priss felt a tension in the air. She studied the older woman quietly, intently. “Aunt Margaret, you don’t think he’ll back out?”

Margaret looked hunted. She sat on the edge of her elegant Chippendale chair with her dainty hands clenched in her lap, her eyes troubled. “Darling, it’s been well over a week since John left.”

Priss laughed, relieved. “Oh, you mean he hasn’t called! I didn’t really expect him to, you know. He said he had some things to iron out back home. Selling cattle again, I’ll bet; you know how he likes those sales!”

But the older woman didn’t laugh. She didn’t want to tell Priss what she’d heard when she talked to Renée the previous night. That John had vanished from sight the past few days, and that no one had seen or heard from him. Perhaps it was nothing, but Priss was so caught up in the excitement of the hurried engagement that Margaret was worried. If anything went wrong...

“It’s just not good to tempt fate,” Margaret said finally. “You’re so impulsive, darling.”

“Stop worrying,” Priss chided. She got up and kissed Margaret’s wrinkled cheek. “Everything will be fine. And I’ll pay you something every week out of my allowance for the dress,” she added softly.

“It’s not the money,” Margaret denied. She touched Priss’s shoulder affectionately. “I’ll make you a wedding present of it. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Cold chills worked their way down Priss’s backbone, but she hid her anxiety well. “Now stop that,” she said. “John would never let me down. He wouldn’t have proposed unless he meant it; unless he loved me. Now let’s have some lunch. I’m starved!”

Margaret’s eyes followed the graceful movement as Priss ran off toward the kitchen. Priss was such a child. She didn’t realize that often men thought with their glands more than with their brains. John’s hunger for Priss had been obvious, but Margaret wondered if it would fade with his absence from her. Perhaps he had just gotten caught up in Priss’s infatuation and had been trapped by his own desire for her. He might even now be looking for a way out of the engagement. That could very well be why he hadn’t contacted Priss. It was a disturbing thought, and Margaret was afraid for her niece if it was true.

Meanwhile the seed of suspicion had been firmly planted in Priss’s mind, and it didn’t go away. When the days kept passing without word from John, she began to worry even more. And finally, just to ease her own silly suspicions, she gave in and called him. She had to be sure. Her grades were falling from the devastating effect of loving him. And even if she went back to Australia to marry him, she had every intention of finishing her education and getting her teaching degree.

She waited until night, when the rates would be cheaper, and let the phone ring for a long time before he finally answered.

“John?” she asked hesitantly.

“Priss!” There was a long static pause. “Priscilla?”

“Yes, it’s me,” she confirmed. She sat down in the chair beside the hall phone, gripping the receiver. Something was wrong—she could feel it. “John, are you okay?”

She heard a snap and a click, like a lighter firing up. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “How about you?”

“I just miss you, that’s all,” she said. “I thought you’d call.”

“I was going to, later tonight.”

She stared at the cord. “How are things going over there?”

There was another pause. “Fine,” he said curtly.

“That’s nice. How’s your mother?”

He sighed heavily. “She’s...doing very well. She’s gone to stay with her sister in California.”

“California? She’ll enjoy visiting there.”

“Yes.” He sounded exhausted.

“How are you managing alone?” she teased.

There was a pause again. “I’m...not alone.”

“Are Randolph and Latrice visiting? I heard they had twins a year ago. Your brother must have his hands full,” she said softly. She knew Randy and Latrice quite well. They were frequent visitors at the Sterling Run.

“It isn’t Randy.” There was a thud, as if he’d hit something. “I’ve got a woman here, if you want to know.”

It was like being struck between the eyes with a hammer. The word echoed around in her head, ricocheting wildly. “A...cleaning woman?”

He laughed coldly. “Now, you know better than that, don’t you?” he asked. “You said yourself, I’m passionate. And being around you was enough to drive any red-blooded man wild. I came back here aching like a boy, and Janie invited me over for dinner...” She heard the sigh. “Well, honey, you know what a dish she is. I couldn’t help myself. And afterward I asked her to move in.”

Janie? Her eyes widened. Janie Weeks, the divorcée he’d been seen with before he flew to Hawaii? He’d said his seeing Janie didn’t concern her, but he’d never denied it. And he hadn’t spoken of love, either. Only of desire.

She stared at the wall blankly. Her life was ending. John was telling her that he didn’t love her. They weren’t going to get married and live happily ever after. It had all been a bad joke. It was over.

“But...I bought a wedding gown,” she began slowly, uncomprehending.

“I came to my senses in time, thank God,” he replied stonily. “Priss, you’re eighteen years old. Eighteen! I’m twenty-eight. Those ten years, and your innocence, make it all impossible. I need someone older, more sophisticated, more experienced. I can’t tie myself down to a kid.”

Her body felt washed in heat. He hadn’t treated her like a kid. She almost reminded him of that, but her pride wouldn’t let her.

“I’m sorry, Priss,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Really damned sorry. But you have to understand, I went off the beam for a while. You went to my head a little, and I got some strange ideas about the future. Now I’m back in my right mind and stone sober, and I want my freedom more than I want you. It wouldn’t have worked out. Priss, are you there?”

“I’m here.” She sounded almost normal, despite the fact that her heart was breaking and there were tears in her eyes. “I hear you.”

There was another pause. “You understand, surely,” he said roughly. “If you’d been a little older or more experienced, we could have had a good time together, with no strings. But you’re just too intense, Priss. And worlds too young for me. My oath, I shudder just thinking about what marriage would have been like with you.”

Her lips trembled, and the tears overflowed. “I love you,” she whispered brokenly. “How do I stop?”

He swallowed, and she heard a ragged breath over the phone. “Priss,” he ground out. “It’s just desire, nothing more,” he said, but he sounded odd. “The same desire I felt for you. But I’m over mine, and you’ll get over yours. For God’s sake, you didn’t really expect me to marry you just so I could sleep with you?”

The way he said it made her sound like a naive little idiot. She took a steadying breath. “That’s me, all right,” she laughed bitterly. “I’m just a kid, after all. Just a green little girl...”

“Isn’t it better to find out now than after we’d married and messed up our lives?” he growled. “You’re well rid of me. Just think of it that way, can’t you?”

“I’ll do my best; I promise you,” she said, hating him. “After all, I’m young. And Ronald won’t let me pine away.”

There was a pause before he spoke. “Your life is your own concern and none of mine. I’ve got Janie. And my God, what a contrast she is to you,” he added on a cold laugh. “All woman. Sweet and wild and giving, not a child looking for rainbows. She’s satisfied with plain sex, and I don’t have to buy her a wedding band.”

She could picture him with the woman. She could see them... She closed her eyes, aware of a tension on the other end of the line, but it didn’t register. “So that’s that,” she said quietly. “What a good thing you didn’t get me a ring. I’m only sorry you didn’t come to your senses before I went out and told the whole world we were getting married.”

“Gossip dies down eventually.” He sounded bored.

“For men, certainly,” she replied. “Not for women. Especially not here.”

“Well, then, you’ll just have to keep your little chin up, won’t you?” he informed her. “Tell them you dropped me—I don’t mind.”

She drew in a deep breath while her heart seemed to go crazy. “Lie to my friends the way you lied to me? No, thanks. I still have some integrity,” she said with bitter pride. “I’m glad you came to your senses, John,” she added on a broken sob. “I wouldn’t marry you now if you were—”

“You wouldn’t be asked,” he interrupted coldly. “I want a woman, not a silly little girl. At least now you won’t be following me around like a pet dog anymore, will you?”

Tears burst from her eyes. She felt sick and empty and dead inside. “No,” she cried. “I won’t.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. But she hung up quietly before he had the chance to say anything else. She couldn’t have borne another word.

She cried and cried, the tears silent and hot and profuse. She was still sitting there when Margaret came into the hall and stopped suddenly.

“Priscilla! What is it, dear?” she asked, concerned.

“That was John,” Priss whispered, red-eyed. “He isn’t going to marry me. He’s decided that his divorcée is more than enough for him. He can have her without marriage, you see.”

Margaret caught her breath. “Can he, now?” she said gruffly. “Here, I’ll call Renée, and we’ll find out what’s going on.”

Renée answered the phone when Margaret called, her own eyes red, her voice wobbling as she told Margaret it was all true, that John did...have a woman at his house, that he’d been to see them, to tell them about why he was ending the engagement.

“Can she talk to me, Margaret?” Renée asked Adam’s sister.

“No,” Margaret said. “She’s gone up to her room in tears. She’s just devastated. Why, Renée? Why would he do such a thing?”

Renée had to fight for control. “Priss is young, she’ll...get over it. Darling, tell her to call me when she’s calmer, will you? And thank you, Margaret, for taking such...such good care of her.”

“Renée, are you all right? You sound odd...”

“I’ve got a cold,” she replied. “I’m fine. Look after Priss. And yourself. ’Bye, darling.”

She hung up, wiping the tears away. Adam came into the living room and took her quietly into his arms.

“Poor Priss,” she muttered tearfully.

“Yes,” he agreed, patting her. “But John was right. With the situation as it was, what else could he do?”

“What a burden he placed on us, though, darling,” she stated despondently.

“A horrible mess, all around,” Adam agreed. He smoothed her hair. “At least we can spare Priss.” Adam kissed her. “Regrets aren’t going to do either of them any good. Besides, Priss is young, as we keep saying. The young heal quickly.”

“I hope you’re right,” Renée said fervently. “Oh, I do hope you are.”

* * *

It was all Priss could do to lie in bed that night. She couldn’t call her parents back. She couldn’t bear the sympathy she knew would be in their voices. Margaret seemed to understand that because she left her niece alone after bringing her a cup of tea and two aspirin to help her sleep.

The next morning Priss slept late. It had been long past midnight when she finally dropped off to sleep the night before. She got up, dressed in jeans and a neat top and sneakers, and went downtown.

The lady who’d waited on her in the department store didn’t ask any questions as she brought out the dress Priss had watched her put away so carefully. She arranged the ticket to credit Margaret’s account, and all the while Priss stared blankly at the gown.

It was white satin with alençon lace and illusion lace appliqués from its keyhole neckline to the empire waist. It had puffy little sleeves and a Juliet cap with a full veil flowing from it. Priss had never seen anything so exquisite in all her life. She remembered daydreaming, just days before, about how it would feel to have John see her in it, as they stood before a minister and pledged to love each other forever.

“Here we go,” the saleslady said politely, getting Priss to sign the credit slip. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

“So am I,” Priss said in a ghost of a voice.

The saleslady’s polite smile faded. “Time helps,” she said quietly, and her eyes hinted at a past hurt that must have been similar to Priss’s. “There are kind, wonderful men in this world. I found mine on the second try. Don’t give up.”

Priss found a smile for her, for that tiny bit of understanding that eased her path. “Thank you,” she said, and with one last lingering look at the gown, she turned and walked out of the store.

She didn’t go to class that day. Instead she wandered through a tourist attraction, one of the many botanical gardens that Honolulu was famous for. Her eyes drank in orchids of every species, and oleander and birds of paradise and candle flowers. She touched the blooming fronds of the exquisite orange-blossomed flame tree, the royal poinciana, and sniffed the perfume that was much sweeter than anything in a bottle.

Eventually she sat down on a bench and let the numbness creep over her, deaden the pain. It was a matter of making it through one day at a time, she told herself. First she had to forget John. She had to forget the day she’d left Australia, and the night he’d flown to Honolulu. She had to remember that John wanted a woman, not a little girl, and that she wasn’t worth a wedding ring to him.