The Cedar Cutter (31 page)

Her breath shuddered on a sigh and she turned her lips to the side of his neck and began to move under him. She rose and took him deeper, fell back and drew him into her again. Warmth simmered to heat and their skin grew slick. She arched beneath him and his long, full-throated cry ripped through her and the rage of his blood, the pound of his need became hers.

Basking in the afterglow, she lay wrapped in his arms half dreaming, a lazy sexual haze clouding her thoughts, while he traced his fingers over her skin as if he couldn't stop touching her.

‘It breaks my heart that I must be leaving you.'

She buried her face against his shoulder and ignored his words. He'd come back, she knew he would. ‘I love you.'

‘And I you. More than you'd be knowing. I'll be returning, as soon as I make an end of it.'

‘I know you will. You promised.'

‘Aye and I keep my promises.' His lips skimmed her face and she drifted asleep, secure in the knowledge that above all else Carrick would keep his word.

When Roisin next awoke a shimmering path of moonlight lay across the bed, highlighting the planes and angles of his body, turning his skin to alabaster.

She ran her hand over his flesh, imagining the blood throbbing beneath, across his broad, deep chest to his shoulder, the raised, puckered scar strangely smooth, then down the sculpted muscles of his thighs. When he stirred and murmured her name she kissed him lightly on the lips and nestled in his arms.

So this was love. Not an aggressive assault in a back alley, or the sordid couplings she'd witnessed at Aunt Lil's. She didn't regret one second of the night and whatever the future might bring, she'd hold this memory close. Treasure it, let it strengthen her while she waited for his return, because he would. He'd come back to her once he had made his peace with the past. Rolling over, she moulded her body against his and closed her eyes. His arm snaked around her, pulling her into his embrace.

‘If I die right now I'll die a happy man.' His words spoken in the stillness and dark of the world they'd created took her by surprise. He turned and gathered her to his chest and they slept away the night cradled beneath her silken quilt.

The frail light of the winter morning woke her and without opening her eyes she knew he'd gone. They had said their farewell and now she must wait. She could be patient.

She tucked the quilt around her shoulders and burrowed down and dozed, fixing every moment of the night firmly in her mind to be taken out and cherished like one of Ruan's treasures during the months that followed.

Ruan's squirming body landed on the bed with a thump. ‘Mam, wake up. Wake up. Carrick has gone. Look, look what he left me.' She rolled over, her hand cradling her fluttering stomach, wondering if she, too, might have a lasting reminder. How she'd love that. Her lips curved in a smile as she imagined his face when he returned. ‘What has he left you, another treasure?'

‘His fishing line. Look, his fishing line. I'll practice every day and when he comes back I'll catch a hundred fish and we'll have such a party. I miss him, Mam. I'll miss him every day until he's back.'

‘And so will I, my darling, so will I.'

Carrick slipped through the door and closed it firmly behind him. He'd known leaving would be hard but hadn't imagined it would be this difficult. Perhaps it was a coward's way out to leave with the memory of her welcoming body and loving smile. If he'd woken her and she'd cried he'd have come undone. He couldn't return until he'd cleared the stain from his heart; only then could he offer her everything she deserved. Revenge had sustained him for too long, burned a black hole in his heart as deep as the bastard's brand on his shoulder. Brigid and Liam's death had stripped the light from his life, from his very soul. Roisin and Ruan had given it back.

True to his word as always, Slinger stood ready down at the campsite. The horses were saddled and the two pack animals loaded with saws, axes, ropes and chains.

‘Thought I might have to come and drag you out of bed.' Carrick slapped Slinger across the back and rammed his hat down hard on his head, then pulled the collar of his own jacket up against the biting wind.

‘Told you I'd be ready. Besides, I want this finished. I've got me a nice warm bed waiting and an even warmer woman.' Slinger winked, tossed him the reins and mounted his own horse.

And how he envied Slinger. A week or so and he'd be back with a pocketful of money and the future free and clear. ‘So you'll not be heading up to the Bellinger when we're through?'

‘Someone's got to stay around and keep an eye on those two. Kill the scandal and make sure they're not wanting for anything. I'll think about Bellinger once you get back from your little jaunt.'

‘And what makes you think I'll be coming back?'

‘You'll be back.' Slinger belted his heels into his horse. ‘Come on, let's get this job done.'

By the time the sun had risen above the hills they'd turned off the main track and were heading down into the valley. Old Pella insisted he and Billy Boy would be up at the caves waiting for them. With their help they'd be able to move a lot faster, get in and out sooner, while the bloody overseer and his mate weren't there. ‘Doesn't look like anyone's been through since last time. Billy said he'd be keeping an eye out.'

‘Can't trust the bloody natives, they're never where they say they'll be. Gone on one of those walkabouts, more 'n' like.'

‘Old Pella told him we were coming. Wants to make sure we don't touch their special places.'

‘Won't be their special places anymore. Not if the land's granted. That bloody overseer'll be in here and he'll take the tree before anyone can say
bleedin' redcoat
.'

‘No one's taking that tree. It's mine. Besides, they haven't had time to get a crew together. We would've heard about it. If it were my land I'd take the tree, too, use it to build myself a home. Cedar's good for houses, keeps the bugs away.'

‘It's also good for coffins. And no one cares whether the bugs stay away once they're six feet under.'

Sometimes Slinger could be a morbid bugger. Not coffins. He'd had enough of coffins and misery. Roisin would have her house even if he didn't make it back. ‘No dray's come in. The bush is still too thick. We'll have to clear it so the bullocky can come through and get the timber out.'

‘Have you told the bullocky you'll be wanting him?'

‘Nah! Plenty of teamsters passing through who will do the job for a price. Wanted to keep it quiet. I reckon we'll be using someone else. If the land's been granted we're trespassing so we'll not be wanting anything or anyone to tie us to the place.'

‘Bullocky's all right. He can't string two words together at the best of times.'

‘Just because he doesn't say much doesn't make him a halfwit. He's a good bloke.'

‘Could always take it out through Wyong, down to the coast. Might be better and quicker now they've clamped down on the licences.'

‘I've got other plans.' He'd tell Slinger what he wanted done with the timber once the tree was down.

‘Bloody dark in here. The canopy's as thick as all get out.'

‘Nothing's been cut, that's why.'

‘Nothing to cut.' Slinger threw aside a tangled vine. ‘Why just the one, then?'

‘Old Pella reckons it's because it's the king.'

‘Blah! Load of rubbish. Will we make it before the light goes?'

‘We'll make camp up in the caves with Billy Boy. Then get an early start in the morning.'

‘I could eat the hind leg off a donkey.'

‘Cold mutton and bread tonight unless Billy Boy's snagged a possum or two.'

When they reached Billy Boy's cave the light had turned grey and chilly, and a fine wind stirred the mizzling rain.

‘Irish rain for you, mate.'

‘Nothing Irish about this rain. It's not set in. Tomorrow it'll be fine. Check the sky.' Red streaks scored the clouds above the rock face, turning the sandstone to orange. ‘I can understand why there's so many leaving the home country and coming here. They've got a better chance. No potatoes, no famine and no bloody rain.'