Lillian's Light Horseman (19 page)

He gazed down at her for a moment and marveled at her beauty. Her hair lay tousled from sleep and sex and her cheeks were flushed. Her generous cleavage, so plump and creamy, begged to be caressed and kissed. She was the epitome of every man’s fantasy and she was in
his
bed and she was
his
. The thought exhilarated him and terrified him in equal measure. Exhilarated him, because at this point in time she was his, but terrified him, because he felt that at any moment she could be taken away from him, or she could leave. If that happened, he didn’t know how he’d survive.

He shook his head, stepped toward the bed and lifted her so that she was cradled against his chest.

“I can walk, William,” she said, wriggling to free herself.

“I know, but I want to carry you. I like you being in my arms. Stop squirming.”

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder as he started walking toward her bedroom.

The house was still silent but he knew Mrs. Thompson would be up and about very soon. He wouldn’t risk Lillian being seen gallivanting about in her nightclothes.

When he reached her room, he entered it and placed her on the bed.

“Try to get some more sleep,” he advised, kissing her chastely on the lips. He brushed her tousled curls from her forehead and ran his finger down her cheek. “Have a good day, beautiful girl.”

He gave her one long, last look then turned and left the room.

* * * *

Lillian stood writing sums on the chalkboard for the children to solve. She’d made a game of it and each correct answer brought them closer to revealing the giraffe that she’d arranged in a dot-to-dot configuration. They’d worked steadily throughout the morning and Lillian was pleased with their progress. She planned to let them leave early and enjoy some of the sunshine before it was time for their dinner.

It was a lovely day and she intended to spend the remainder of the afternoon assisting Mrs. Thompson in the vegetable garden. She needed some fresh air and exercise and she was looking forward to getting her hands dirty. Her aunt had never approved of her love of gardening and had thought it a pastime strictly reserved for the lower classes and discouraged Lillian at every opportunity. It was one thing about her aunt that Lillian didn’t miss—her tendency toward snobbery.

Finally, the children finished their sums and Lillian could release them to play.

She hurried to her room, changed into an old blouse and skirt and tied a scarf around her hair before making her way downstairs and out into the garden.

Mrs. Thompson was already there on her hands and knees, weeding a section of the vegetable bed. Lillian knelt opposite her and started to assist, turning the soil as she went. They worked in companionable silence for a while, Lillian enjoying the feel of the cool earth between her fingers. It was relaxing and pleasing work. She’d always loved nature and the outdoors, and gardening had always provided an outlet for her as well as a quiet time of contemplation.

She thought about William. He’d mentioned something called a prophylactic, which he’d explained were rubber sleeves that fit over the penis to prevent disease and pregnancy. They’d issued them during the war. She didn’t ask if he’d had cause to use them while he was abroad—she didn’t want to know. He’d discussed the option of using one but he hadn’t sounded particularly enthusiastic, and to be honest, it had sounded rather strange to Lillian. Not having any sphere of reference, she’d let William do as he thought necessary.

Her thoughts drifted to how much she’d changed in the relatively short period she’d been back in Australia. She was worldlier now, more experienced, which was incongruous, given that she’d moved from a bustling city to the Australian outback. She understood that it was her newfound sexuality and all the associated feelings and experiences that went with it. She suddenly felt like a woman—more sophisticated and knowing. She smiled to herself. It had been two days since she’d last been with William but if she concentrated hard enough when she was lying in bed at night, she could almost feel him moving on top of her. She imagined his unique, masculine scent and the feel of his rough hands on her breasts and thighs. She shivered, feeling the familiar tightening in her belly and the warm, accompanying glow.

She noticed that Mrs. Thompson had stopped her weeding and she looked up to find the older woman studying her thoughtfully.

“Are you not well, Lillian? You look a little flushed.”

She nodded quickly. “Quite well. Just a little warm, thank you.”

She regarded the other woman carefully across the vegetable garden and speculated, not for the first time, about whether Mrs. Thompson suspected something was different between her and William. The woman had gone back to weeding, however, and showed no outward indication that she was in any way suspicious.

I’m paranoid
. She knew what they were doing was not proper, but stealing about in the house made it seem that much more immoral.

She sighed and dug into the soil with a trowel to extract a rather stubborn weed. The sound of horses and men’s voices made her look up toward one of the outer paddocks. The men had obviously finished working for the day and were returning to the homestead and their quarters. They were dusty and patches of perspiration dotted their work shirts. Lillian scanned the men until she identified William, and as was fast becoming habit, her heart stuttered at the sight of him. He sat tall and formidable in the saddle and his muscular thighs gripped his horse’s flanks expertly as he maneuvered the animal around the stockyard between groups of sheep and the working dogs.

“Handsome, isn’t he?”

Lillian looked across at Mrs. Thompson. “Yes, he is,” she agreed, shading her eyes with a hand to watch the men while they worked.

“Well, I’d better go and wash up and check on dinner. We’re having lamb stew this evening,” she informed Lillian. She struggled up from her kneeling position and dusted off her skirt.

“Can I help?”

“You can collect some potatoes and zucchini for me. That would be marvelous. I need to feed that man before he collapses from exhaustion.”

Lillian smiled and got to her feet. “Potatoes and zucchini coming up.”

She’d collected some potatoes and was picking zucchini when the familiar scent of horses, leather and a unique earthiness wafted to her and alerted her instantly to the presence of William. She straightened and turned to see him leaning casually against the nearby fence, his booted feet crossed at the ankles.

“How are you, Lilly?”

“I’m well, thank you. How was work on the station today?”

“Good. The shearers sheared about six hundred sheep. It’s a great start.”

“You don’t shear the sheep?”

“Not generally. I muster them. I employ shearers to shear them.”

Lillian looked him over. He was covered in red outback dust and he looked tired. “You look exhausted and you’re in need of a bath.”

He laughed. “Yes, to both. But I’m guessing Mrs. Thompson will be wanting to feed me first.”

Lillian grinned. “She does. She’s just gone inside to finish dinner. Why don’t you clean up? I’ll finish collecting the vegetables and meet you in the kitchen.”

She looked down at her hands, which were encrusted with dirt. Trickles of perspiration worked down her spine. She would need to take a scrubbing brush to her nails and a bath seemed like a wonderful idea but that would have to wait until later.

She finished collecting the vegetables and took the basket to the kitchen. She then scrubbed her hands and nails with soap. She was still dressed in her old clothes and felt rather scruffy to be sitting at dinner, but life on a sheep station was far less formal than the life she’d been accustomed to in England. Work came first and time was not wasted on dressing for dinner unless one had visitors. Meals were invariably taken in the kitchen and while faces and hands were scrubbed, no special effort was made with dressing and formal table settings. They also had to be careful with their water consumption. Water was a precious commodity and anything that required excessive use of water, such as washing of unnecessary clothes, was frowned upon and avoided where possible.

Lillian rounded up the children and ensured that they washed before they sat to eat. She made her way to the kitchen and assisted Mrs. Thompson with serving the lamb stew and laying the table with condiments and thick slices of bread.

Dinner was always a joyous affair and the children were happy to spend time with their father, particularly as he’d been so busy during the last few days. William recounted some amusing stories from the shearing shed, which had them all in fits of laughter, and the children brought him up to date on their schoolwork.

It was relaxing and familial and Lillian found that she enjoyed this part of the day the most. She felt like she was part of something special, as if she belonged with the family, and it always warmed her heart to share such an innocuous event, such as eating with those she loved.

She was fast becoming attached to the children and knew that she could love them as her own. She worried about the prospect of having to leave eventually, but pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She was here for now, with the ones she loved, and that was all she would focus on.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lillian readied the children for bed and left William to read them a story. She returned to the kitchen to wish Mrs. Thompson goodnight and put some water on to boil for tea as she contemplated taking a bath herself. It wasn’t an easy task, boiling enough water to take a decent bath then lugging the cold bathwater outside to use on the garden. Bathing the children was relatively simple. They only required a little water to soap them up and wash them off sufficiently. Which is what Lillian generally did to wash. She would soap herself all over then sponge herself off. Washing her hair was always accomplished by standing under the garden water pump, or, when the weather was cold, over the big copper in the washroom.

She was waiting for the water to boil for her tea when William strode into the kitchen, the bathtub suspended over his head as if it weighed nothing at all.

“I was contemplating a bath, but I think you need it more than me,” she remarked.

He grinned roguishly. “
We
are taking a bath.”

Lillian widened her eyes, her gaze darting to the kitchen door. Surely he wouldn’t risk bathing together?

He chuckled at her scandalized expression. “Mrs. Thompson knows that I will be bathing and she definitely won’t risk entering the kitchen to find me in the midst of my ablutions.”

Lillian smiled. She imagined that the sight of William naked would send Mrs. Thompson into a swoon that she’d never recover from.

The idea of a bath—and a bath with William at that—was an opportunity too good to refuse. Before she talked herself out of it, she slipped upstairs to her bedroom to collect her bathing accouterments, a clip for her hair and a nightgown then returned to the kitchen.

When she entered, William was pouring water into the tub. She stood, fidgeting as he went to and from the copper collecting bucketfuls until the water level was sufficient.

“That’s perfect.” He stuck his hand in to test the temperature. He stood and threw her an assessing look as he walked toward the kitchen door and closed it with a soft thud. “You need to undress now, sweetheart.”

Slowly, Lillian removed her shoes and stockings then untied the scarf from her hair. She turned her back and started unbuttoning her blouse. Behind her, she heard the muffled sounds of clothing being discarded. Undressing so blatantly in front of William made her feel awkward. She’d started to unfasten her lower garments when William pressed his bare chest against her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. He stilled her fumbling fingers with his hands over hers and helped her to unhook her skirt before slipping it down her hips. She stepped out of it unsteadily and William turned her to face him.

He fingered the lace on her brassiere and his eyes darkened. “You’re so lovely.”

Her breath hitched as she met his intense gaze, her body breaking out in goosebumps, her nipples straining against their silk confines.

“Let’s get you out of this,” he said, reaching behind her to unclasp her brassiere and tugging the garment down her shoulders.

Her breasts bounced as their restraints were removed.

His eyes glazed over. “Fuck,” he whispered, bending his head to suck a taut nipple into his mouth.

A pleasurable current zapped through her and stopped to pulse between her thighs.

He released her nipple with a loud popping sound then knelt before her and started unhooking her girdle. She stiffened and blushed as he went to work, deftly releasing the hooks and eyes. He stopped and gazed up at her with a smirk.

“This isn’t the first time that I’ve removed a lady’s undergarments, Lilly. Don’t be embarrassed.”

She looked down at him and a small smile touched her lips. She ran her fingers through his hair. It was so soft, even covered in a fine coat of outback dust. The action soothed her nerves a little. She knew it was silly to feel awkward at this juncture, after all of the other things that they’d done, but it was an automatic reaction. The act of physically undressing had always been so personal and intimate so the awkwardness was difficult to switch off.

He smiled up at her, then slowly leaned forward and planted a kiss on her belly. “Just relax, sweetheart,’ he coaxed softly, working swiftly to remove the remainder of her underclothes.

Soon she stood naked. She tugged on William’s hair to urge him to rise but he just chuckled then bent his head to the apex between her thighs and inhaled deeply. She stiffened for the second time, mortified that she hadn’t washed since that morning and to make matters worse, her monthly course was imminent.

“William, please. I’m going to start bleeding at any moment,” she whispered, embarrassment tingeing her cheeks pink.

He looked up at her. “Are you sure?”

She huffed an exasperated breath. “Yes, I started cramping earlier today, if you must know.”