Swift Runs The Heart (19 page)

Braddock coughed. “You're not going anywhere, Bas. Not till I've had a word.” The big man's hand shot out to hold Bas by the arm. Bas looked down at it, a shade of mutiny chasing across his face, then the easy smile was set in place again. But Geraldine saw his eyes, quite at odds with his mouth.

Then Bas nodded, shook off the policeman's hand as Braddock accepted the silent promise that passed between them, and followed as Bas pulled them both aside to the shelter of an upturned wagon where they would be safe from eavesdroppers.

“For a blithe-tempered man, you have a real knack for making enemies,” said Braddock.

“I don't seek them. It just happens.”

Geraldine almost kicked Bas. He had cloaked himself in his ‘gentleman's face' again. Then she saw that it had little effect on Braddock. He towered over even Bas's long-legged height and his broad shoulders were a marked contrast to the younger man's lean frame. Geraldine had some idea of the strength beneath Bas's misleadingly light frame, but Braddock was of another class altogether.

“You may not look for them, laddie, but you've found a dangerous one this time. I've kept my tongue over this feud of yours with Black Jack, but this last set-to will cause the kind of trouble I can't ignore. Not with a whole town of reckless idiots, Hell bent on milking such an affair for their own entertainment.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Turn tail and risk losing the nicest business a man could hope for?”

“Yes,” said Braddock.

Bas did not fly back in argument nor burst into laughter, as Geraldine fully expected. Instead, he looked at her and his eyes were a blank veil over whatever thoughts chased behind them.

“How soon should we leave?” he said.

“We?” Geraldine stared in shock, but Bas had deliberately turned away from her.

“You've got a few hours. Black Jack's crew will be lost with what to do until their boss decides which is more important – making sure that shot you gave him doesn't kill him, or arranging to have you killed and the little lady here taken.”

Suddenly it all became horribly clear to Geraldine. “You're running because of me?” she demanded. Bas only stared at a spot above her head. She turned stiffly to the trooper. “There is no cause for concern, Sergeant. I will leave for Dunedin on the first available stage.”

“Don't believe her, Braddock. She would be off that stage at its first stop and putting herself into danger quicker than anyone else I know,” said the dry voice of the man behind her.

“Including you, Bas?” the Sergeant smirked. Then his face set in the stern lines of an official of the law. “Sorry, Ma'am. Black Jack's temper is up and he's got too many contacts among the shiftless elements here. You were warned to leave Dunstan some weeks ago, I understand. You should have gone then. The stage will be watched now.”

“Then arrest him. It was his gang that held up my coach.”

“Can you prove it?”

“No,” she admitted, “but you know it was him, don't you?”

“Perhaps,” said Brannigan. “It doesn't mean a thing. I'm the law in this town, not some vigilante, and without proof, I can do nothing. You don't enforce the law by breaking it when it suits. I'm telling you, for your own protection, leave this place.”

”The man – he's barely seen me twice. He can't be so set on taking me!”

“But he is Hell bent on upsetting me,” said Bas, turning her back to face him, “and capturing you would be a way to strike at me.”

“Why? Would it really worry you if he got hold of me?”

This time, his eyes did meet hers and the bright flash of something she could only guess at lit their bright surface. Yet “he believes it would,” was all he would say in answer.

It was Braddock who broke the queer silence. He coughed, bringing their heads around to him. “So, how do you plan to get out of town unseen? And what am I supposed to tell this young lady's father when he comes demanding her whereabouts?”

Geraldine's eyes widened. How did her father get into this?

“A young man recognised you, Miss MacKenny. A particularly officious young sprat, if I may be so bold. He was in my office the day after Christmas, demanding I arrest Bas here for abduction and march you home again. I told him I had far more to worry about than one headstrong young woman who was breaking no law that I knew of. He left town a few days later and it's my bet he's gone to inform on you to your father. No doubt hoping for some advantage to accrue from his good neighbourliness. I take it that your father's land holdings are quite extensive?”

She flushed, and nodded reluctantly. “I can't help that,” she said defiantly, “but I do know someone who can help me leave town undetected.” She turned to Bas. “This time I give you my word I will go. There's no need for you to leave everything you have worked so hard to build up. Once I'm gone, MacRae can't use me to threaten you. Or do you think me so pigheaded that I would put my wants ahead of your life?”

“Don't be stupid. We're leaving together and that is final. Who is this person who can help us? The young native with the surprising lack of English?” Bas was still coming the aristocrat personified and she felt an annoyed flush spread over her. She nodded affirmation.

“Last I heard, he and some of his family are camped a few miles up the gorge. They know this land far better than any European and can lead us through the hills. There is a place about some days north of here where we would be safe from intrusion.”

“Oh? What's this magic spot that's somehow stayed safe from the gossip trails?”

“It's where I grew up,” she said. “The house is abandoned, but my father's outriders keep an eye on it, and unless you know its whereabouts, it's not an easy spot to find.”

Bas fell silent and it was left to Braddock to declare his satisfaction. “So that's MacRae dealt with. Now, what about the enraged father?”

“Go fetch a preacher,” said the resigned voice of Bas Deverill.

“What!” Geraldine had shrieked. Then a whole lot more unsavoury comments. None had any effect and in far too short a time she found herself standing in the shelter of some rocks listening to the township's only parson recite the words of the wedding rite. Her only preparation had been to dust down her skirts and wash the grime from her face and hands. She was too stunned to regret that her marriage should be this rushed affair, attended only by Molly and Sergeant Braddock. No flowers could be got after the scouring winds, but Bas had inveigled a ring from a trader already resetting his stand and collecting his goods. He was holding it out to her now, and pushing it on to her finger. From somewhere she heard her own voice, responding automatically to the age-old vows.

Then it was finished and they were riding away through the chaos that littered the township, heading for her friends' campsite with all she owned strapped to the back of her horse. A mile or so from town, reality hit in all its painful brutality.

“Stop!”

She lunged for Bas's reins and started hauling both their horses behind a nearby escarpment of rocks. He took one look at her face and let his horse go where she chose. Once safe from prying eyes, she leapt to dismount and he quickly followed her. Then she turned to face him, eyes wild with distress. “This is ridiculous. We can't do this,” she cried.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You're not falling into MacRae's clutches, and that's final.”

“No, not that – this!” She thrust out her hand with the smooth golden band on the finger.

“Ah.” And a blinding smile lit up the bright eyes and quicksilver hair. “But, Mrs Deverill, we have done it. For which I have yet to thank you properly.” He took the hand she had thrust so wildly at him, fingers closing on the incongruous yellow band, and drew it up to meet the caress of his lips.

She clenched her hand closed in denial, his soft touch only highlighting the wrongness as she was made cruelly aware of the rough calluses marring her palms after the months of kitchen work. Abruptly, she pulled away, shoving both hands protectively behind her.

“You can't marry me. Not when you are who you are.” The words were torn from her. “How could you ever take someone like me into that drawing room you once spoke of?” She hunched her head, vainly trying to hide the sheen in her eyes, but was miserably aware that her voice betrayed her.

After what seemed a long silence, she heard the clumping of hooves. He was leaving, then. The truth of her words was undeniable and he had recognised it, obviously seeing no point in long farewells. The only shame was that she had not forced him to see it sooner.

So this was it. The end of the dream.

Then she felt her horse's reins being pulled from her hands, and looked up in disbelief. Surely he did not mean to leave her mountless. No. Even more confusing, he was leading her horse over to tether it to the same scrubby outcropping on which he had tied his own. So he was not going yet.

Then he walked back to her, his eyes never leaving her face. He took both her hands, turning them palm upwards, and traced the signs of her hard work with gentle fingers. Then, , he lifted each in turn to his mouth and she felt the heady touch of his lips and tongue following the path of his fingers.

“Mrs Deverill, I would take you anywhere, if only you would let me,” he whispered. Then his arms pulled her close to the exciting length of him and his lips caught hers, and at the touch of him all fright left her, replaced by sensations far removed. Her body moulded to his as if made to match and his lips and hands woke an answering blaze within her. She reached up her arms and closed them round his neck.

It was not the spot she may have chosen to discover what lay beyond the marriage vows, but it was the right time and place for her and this laughing-spirited man. Behind the rocks was a soft fold in the hills, hidden away from stray passers-by, and in a hollow right at the back soft tussock grass coated the ground. There was real soil there, protected from the harsh, scouring winds, and in between the tall clumps grew the springy ground covers of the region, making a bed true and fair, well suited to a pair of fey lovers.
In truth, this place was more fitting than a careful scene of upholstered bed and fine linen
, was Geraldine's wild thought before sensation and the fine muscles of her husband totally enraptured her.

They had sunk to the ground and his quick hands had divested her of most of her gown. Long fingers traced the lines of first one, then the other round breast, sending delight such as she had never known coursing through her. Unconsciously, she arched up in invitation. He was not slow to oblige, a queer smile glimpsed on his mouth, before Geraldine flung her head back in wondering shock as his lips found her taut nipples.

“Sweetheart, so beautiful,” he murmured as his mouth traced a wild crescendo of reaction over her body. Greedily, her hands tugged at his shirt ever more desperately, till with a sigh she could feel no obstruction to the pleasure of touching skin to skin, body to body.

His hand traced lower, and she opened in welcome to the enticing fingers.

“Please,” she gasped, unsure what she sought, knowing only an urgent need.

He laughed gently. “Soon, sweetheart, soon. I have waited too long for this for it to be over yet.” Then his mouth claimed hers and she was too busy to protest. Hands, mouth and body, he worshipped her and acquainted himself with every byway of the curves laid bare to him. He drew back, and she could feel his eyes upon her, wandering slowly from tousled swathes of hair, following the tracing lines of fingers over face, neck and then down. For an instant, it seemed she looked through his eyes. Saw the rich copper of her hair mingling with the silks and russets of the grasses under them. Gazed upon her skin, from the soft touch of peach on her sun-kissed face then down the milky luminescence of her breasts and stomach and legs. He was a tall man, lean and with muscles that could erupt in a blaze of activity, but she was of a size made for him. When he stood, her head could fit snugly into the curve of his shoulder and head. Now, as they lay together, his gaze traced the length of them both, seeing the fitness of the match, and Geraldine saw it in his eyes. She had always known she was considered a beauty in the eyes of men, but now, for the first time in her life, she felt it to be true.

A pleased smile tugged at her lips, and her own eyes explored the glorious length of him, from laughing blue eyes to the strong shoulders, hard, muscled trunk and long, powerful legs. Her smile of satisfaction brought a sharp reaction. Swiftly his body melded to hers again and once more his lips brought forth a torrent of response from deep within her.

It was no longer the time for sweet dalliance. The storm was upon them. Hands, mouths and bodies stirred a cauldron of sensation till finally his knee opened her legs and he rose over her.

Then his mouth caught hers and gently his body drove into hers. She knew then that he had expected the obstruction, yet she was too impatient to need his gentleness. Quickly, she drew her hips up, gasping only slightly at the sharp tear.

He laughed, then met her demand with the unleashing of his own needs, and it was like nothing that had gone before. Too soon, and not soon enough, Geraldine felt wave upon wave hit her, as suddenly he reared up and drove into her in a series of shattering explosions, before collapsing on her as a shuddering seized hold of her, and her hands reached up to stir through his hair in stunned awe.

He shifted slightly then, lifting his head enough to catch her eyes, and a smile such as she had never seen from him lit his face.

“Welcome, Mrs Deverill.”

They slept after that and were woken only by the cooling breeze of late afternoon, trickling a frisson of chill air down their exposed bodies. Geraldine would have pulled away in embarrassment, but he saw the look in her eyes and he drew her close in a kiss that soon awakened her senses, banishing shyness. Once more before they left that place, she knew the entrancement of his taking. So assiduous was he in his attentions as they dressed after, interrupted frequently by his laughing embraces, that she had discarded all restraint by the time they rode on. In her heart was hope.