Australian Outback Kings / The Cattle King's Mistress / The Playboy King's Wife / The Pleasure King's Bride (31 page)

The truth was he'd been a blind idiot all these years, fooling around with women who didn't hold a candle to Samantha Connelly, and those ghosts were swirling with a vengeance right now. Why should she take his word that he'd always been responsible about contraception? She was probably remembering he hadn't used anything with her tonight. The moment had been too big to think of precautions. Did she understand how much it meant? That it was driven by needs that went beyond the merely physical?

How could he prove it when she'd just been slapped in the face by his undeniable sexual intimacy with Janice Findlay? And he'd topped that by more or less approving Greg's pursuit of it, too. And why? Because he'd wanted Janice out of
his
hair, wanted to get Samantha away from her. No noble ideals about the right to choose in that decision!

He stopped, riven by guilt. They'd reached the entrance to the marquee and the party beckoned, but he had to show Samantha he did have some decency. “You go on inside,” he said. “I'll find Greg and have a word with him. Sort things out.”

Slowly, she turned her gaze up to his, her beautiful blue eyes clouded with painful confusion. “You said…”

“I was wrong. If Janice is making Greg a scapegoat for my sins, he ought to know about it.”

“He probably won't thank you,” she acknowledged with a wobbly grimace.

“Better an informed choice than an uninformed one,” he conceded dryly. He reached up and stroked her cheek in tender reassurance. “I'm sorry for letting my anger at Janice's accusation spill over onto you. It is a lie, Samantha, so please…don't let it come between us.”

Relief…hope…uncertainty.…

“Save the last dance for me,” he said with persuasive force, willing her to have more trust and confidence in him by the time he returned to her side.

Sam didn't move forward as Tommy left her. She felt incapable of making any decision about what she should do. At least the worry about her brother was eased and she was grateful for that.

She stared blankly at the party scene in front of her, too churned up inside to feel drawn to it. Her mind kept jagging over what had just transpired. People did do and say mean things out of spite and frustration, she reflected, especially when pride was wounded and envy was eating away at one's heart. She was guilty of it herself with Tommy. Maybe Janice did just want to do damage and it was wrong to let her win.

Her head was beginning to ache and the noise level around her didn't help. The drummer of the band was giving a virtuoso performance. It felt as though he was beating her brain…boom, crash, rat-a-tat-tat! She wished he'd stop.

“Sam?” A hand on her arm… Elizabeth…concern in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

She managed a wan smile. “Bad headache.”

“Ah…were the pins in your hair too tight?”

Sam gratefully seized on the excuse. “I guess I wasn't used to them. I took them out. I hope Miranda won't mind.”

Elizabeth nodded to the dance floor, dryly commenting, “I doubt Miranda is seeing anything but Nathan right now. They'll be making their departure soon.”

“Yes, I knew I had to be here for that.”

“If you feel really ill…”

“No. It's all right.”

A searching look showed doubt but she didn't press the issue. “I thought I saw Tommy come in with you.”

“Yes. There was a bit of trouble outside. He decided he'd better sort it out, but he'll be right back. In time for…”

“What trouble?”

“It's nothing really,” Sam hastily assured her. “I was worried about Greg. He's…well…under the weather…and Tommy's gone to help him. A man-to-man talk. That's all.”

“Ah!”

Elizabeth's satisfied nod was sweet relief to Sam. She quickly changed the subject. “We met Christabel Valdez earlier. Jared seems to be very struck on her.”

The all too shrewd gaze travelled back to the dance floor, targeting the son who worked with her and the woman who was keeping her distance from him even as they danced. Jared's face was lit with warm pleasure in his partner. Christabel's expressed a lively interest. Whether the interest was polite or deeply personal was impossible to tell.

“What do you think of her?”

The question surprised Sam. Elizabeth King was the kind of person who usually kept her own counsel, though she had spoken very personally to her earlier today. Flinching away from that memory and its on-the-mark advice, Sam concentrated hard on what was being asked, flattered that her opinion might be valued by Tommy's mother.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say Christabel was definitely not of Janice Findlay's ilk, but she bit back the too revealing remark. “I think she's a very together person inside. What she does is for herself. I liked her,” she simply said.

“Yes. It's as though she's deliberately limited her needs,” Elizabeth mused slowly.

Or perhaps Christabel's needs were simple. She seemed to have led a complicated life, moving from country to country, possibly shedding everything but the bare essentials to her along the way. That made sense to Sam. Although being alone, far from any family seemed a strange choice. On the other hand Christabel might be like Miranda, with no family at all.

“Do
you
like her?” It was the more important question, Sam thought, if Jared was seriously attracted to the beautiful Brazilian. He was very close to his mother, in every sense, and would surely want her approval of his choice of partner.

“There's nothing not to like. Which makes me wonder why she works so hard at it.” The cryptic remark was followed by a dismissive shrug. “It's up to Jared to work it out. If he wants to enough.”

Respect for choices, Sam thought. Had Elizabeth drummed that into her sons? It was a fair philosophy to live by, as long as people were prepared to accept and shoulder the consequences of those choices, because there was no escape from them. There was no clean slate.

“Christabel has a child.”

The quiet statement of fact hit a mountain of raw places in Sam. A child that was not Jared's, Elizabeth meant. And what might
she
be faced with—a child of Tommy's that was not hers!

She closed her eyes, unbearably pained by the thought. How could he walk away from that? A child…a little boy…or girl…carrying his genes. It would never feel right…never!

Please, God, don't let it be true, she prayed fervently.

“Is the headache worse?”

Elizabeth's anxious question jolted her eyes open again. “No,” she denied before realising she would have to explain. “Just thinking,” she added, her mind working feverishly to get back on track with Elizabeth's. “It must be hard being a single mother.”

“Yes. Though it didn't start that way.” She looked back at the dance floor, watching the woman they were discussing. “Christabel was married. She's a widow.”

Widowed…maybe she was still grieving for her first love, which could explain the distance she now kept with men. Even attractive men. Christabel could be a one-man woman, like herself with Tommy—always an empty place that no one else could fill. Poor Jared, if that was the case. He could be travelling a path to nowhere.

“Is Christabel's child a boy or a girl?” she asked, wondering how Jared was handling that situation—a child by another man. At least, the biological father was no longer physically there. Janice would be.

“A little girl.” Another flat statement of fact, no expression in her voice—judgment reserved.

The child would never be a blood granddaughter to Elizabeth, Sam thought. Whereas if Janice had Tommy's child, it would be a King, and never would Elizabeth turn her back on any grandchild of Lachlan's. It would always have a place in the family. And rightly so. The next generation…

Oh, it was wrong, wrong, wrong. A child should be born of a love like Miranda's and Nathan's. Whatever Tommy had felt with Janice was gone. Yet such unplanned births did happen, and it was impossible to ignore a child's needs, if one had any conscience at all.

“Does Christabel's daughter get on with Jared?” Sam asked, not really imagining otherwise. Maybe that was one need to be filled and Jared had a naturally kind nature.

“I don't know.” There was an odd distance in Elizabeth's voice. “I haven't even seen the child. Christabel keeps her personal life very private.”

She's worried, Sam thought. Worried about where this might lead for Jared. And I'm worried about whether I can share Tommy's future. He cares about me, she fiercely assured herself. He cared enough to look after Greg for me. Or did he go to have a more private word with Janice, out of my hearing?

The music stopped but no one left the dance floor. The couples just chatted together, waiting for the next number to begin. “This will be the last dance,” Elizabeth murmured. “I hope Tommy won't be long.” She swung her gaze back to Sam, sharply inquiring. “Was it bad trouble?”

“Still here, waiting for me!” Tommy's voice seemed to explode into the highly sensitive moment, sweeping away the question just as he swept Sam away from his mother, his highly charged energy an electrifying force that nothing was going to stop. “Last dance, Mum,” he tossed back at her, and as though the band heard him and took their cue from him, they started up a slow jazz waltz.

The moment they stepped on the dance floor, Tommy wrapped Sam in his arms, pressing her so close the burning heat and steel muscle of his body was stamped on hers, like a brand of ownership he was determined on maintaining, no matter what. And the painful muddle in Sam's mind melted into a pool of wanting that went so deep, her arms simply wound themselves around his neck and locked him to her. This dance was hers, she thought fiercely. Whatever came afterwards, this last dance with Tommy was
hers
.

He didn't speak. She didn't, either. Their bodies did all the talking, clinging to the sense of togetherness, silently recalling and revelling in the intimate knowledge they'd given each other, their legs interweaving with a sexual awareness that was intensely erotic. The need—the desire—to be with him again—always be with him—was overwhelming.

Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, compelled to touch. The skin was damp there. So were his curls. Had he been running to get back to her, sweating on it? She could feel his heart thumping against his chest, his cheek rubbing against her hair, yearning emanating from every part of him, yearning for her. She was sure of it.

As she snuggled her head closer to his, she caught sight of Elizabeth watching them, smiling at them, happy satisfaction written all over her face. It was as though she was beaming at them… This is right…how it should be with these two. And Sam thought of how Elizabeth had spoken to her about Christabel, like a mother to a daughter, sharing a confidence about family matters…Tommy's mother trusting her and the long link of knowledge and understanding they shared.

The realisation crept up on her…Elizabeth
wanted
the link. That's why she had spoken so bluntly before the wedding, wanting both she and Tommy to leap over the barriers they had set between themselves. Had she sensed all along they had always really wanted each other?

Both of them such fools, if what Tommy had insisted was true—that she was the one special woman for him. And it had felt true. Still felt true, now she was in his arms again. So it had to work out right, didn't it? Somehow.

Sam shut down her mind and gave herself up to the pleasure of feeling…being with Tommy…the deliciously sensual harmony of their bodies moving in unison…music driving their feet, the rhythm of it pulsing through them…and this man she loved holding her as though he wasn't whole without her, his breath in her hair.

She wanted the dance to go on and on forever, feeding the dream she had fostered all these years…a partnership welded by love, unbreakable. The music stopped, but Tommy didn't let her go. She didn't move from him, either. They remained locked together, uncaring what anyone else thought.

“Ladies and gentlemen…that was the last dance,” the master of ceremonies declared. “If you'll now form a circle to wish the bride and groom farewell…”

Tommy's chest rose and fell on a long sigh. “Ready to join the hordes?”

“I guess so,” she murmured, reluctant to face reality again.

It was Elizabeth's voice that forced them into action. “Sam, here's your bouquet.”

Bridesmaid!
Her
duty to look after the bouquets. Sam jerked out of Tommy's embrace. Elizabeth was smiling at them, holding both her bouquet and Miranda's. “Sorry. Forgot what I should be doing,” Sam rushed out as she accepted hers.

“I'll give this to Miranda,” Elizabeth said indulgently, her dark eyes sparkling pleasure in Sam's forgetfulness. “You and Tommy join up with Jared near the exit. It will get the guests moving.”

Tommy retained an arm around her waist as they stepped off the dance floor. Sam quickly scanned the crowd, wondering if Greg and Janice had returned to the marquee, inwardly agitated at the thought that one or other of them might cause an unpleasant scene during the leave-taking. She couldn't see either of them.

“They're not here,” Tommy murmured, attuned to her concern.

She darted an anxious glance at him. “You spoke to Greg?”

He shook his head. “I couldn't find them. I went back to where we last saw them, looked around, called out. They must have slipped away somewhere else, or didn't want to be found.”

In a way it was a relief. Greg's pride would have been hurt. Angry and drunk, he might have thrown a punch at Tommy. Besides, she didn't want to think about Janice and what might have been said. Easier to postpone that issue right now.

“I just hope they don't blunder back inside before Nathan and Miranda leave,” she muttered.

“I doubt they'll return at all,” came the dry retort.