In the Land of the Long White Cloud (42 page)

She had woefully neglected Helen during this time, but Helen did not even mention it when Gwyneira appeared at her place with a happy demeanor but a grass-stained dress, after James had ridden on into the highlands. “I have to ride to Haldon, but help me brush off my dress first, please. It’s somehow gotten dirty.”

Gwyneira was supposedly riding to Haldon three to four times a week. She claimed to have joined a housewives club. Gerald was ecstatic about it, and Gwyneira did indeed return home every week with new recipes that she had had Mrs. Candler dash off for her. Lucas seemed to find it rather strange, but he didn’t have any objections either; he was happiest when people left him alone.

Gwyneira gave a sewing circle as an excuse, James missing sheep. They thought up names for their favorite meeting places in the wild, and awaited one another there, making love against the backdrop of the mountains on clear days or under a provisional tent consisting of James’s waxed coat when the fog rolled in. Gwyneira once pretended to quake with shame under the curious gaze of a couple of keas who arrived to pilfer the remains of their picnic, and James took off half-naked after two kiwis that tried to make off with the belt he had dropped in the dirt.

“Thieving as magpies!” he called out, laughing. “No wonder people named the immigrants after them.”

Gwyneira looked at him, confused. “Most of the immigrants I know are very respectable people,” she objected.

James nodded grimly. “Toward other immigrants. But look how they behave toward the Maori. Do you believe the land for Kiward Station was bought at a fair price?”

“Since the treaty of Waitangi, doesn’t all land belong to the Crown?” Gwyneira inquired. “The queen certainly wouldn’t let herself be fleeced.”

James laughed. “That would be unlikely. According to what I’ve heard, she’s got a good head for business. But for that reason the land still belongs to the Maori. The Crown only has the right of preemption. Which naturally guarantees people a certain baseline price. But for one thing, that’s not how the world works, and for another, even now not all of the chiefs have signed the treaty. The Kai Tahu, for example, haven’t as far as I know.”

“The Kai Tahu are our people?” Gwyneira asked.

“You’ve got it,” James replied. “Of course they’re not really ‘our people.’ They merely carelessly sold the land on which their village rests to Mr. Warden because they let themselves be tricked. That in itself shows how unfairly the Maori have been treated.”

“But they seem perfectly happy,” Gwyneira objected. “They’re always very nice to me. And they’re often not even there.” Whole Maori tribes occasionally took long treks to other hunting grounds and fishing areas.

“They still haven’t figured out how much money they’ve been swindled out of,” James said. “But the whole thing is a powder keg. If the Maori ever have a chief who learns to read and write, there will be trouble. But forget all that for now, my sweet. Shall we try again?”

Gwyneira laughed at his words. It was the same way Lucas prefaced their efforts in the marriage bed. But what a difference between Lucas and James!

Gwyneira increasingly enjoyed the physical act of love the more time she spent with James. At first he was tender and gentle, but when he recognized the passion that was awakening within Gwyneira, he loved to play with the tigress within her. Gwyneira had always liked wild games and she loved it when James moved inside her quickly,
bringing their intimate dance to a passionate crescendo. With every new tryst, she cast more of her reservations about propriety aside.

“Does it work if I lie on top of you instead of the other way around?” she asked at one point. “You’re kind of heavy, you know.”

“You were born to ride,” James said, laughing. “I always knew that. Try it sitting down, then you’ll have more freedom to move.”

“Now how do you know all that?” Gwyneira asked suspiciously, when, intoxicated with happiness, she later snuggled her head onto his shoulder, the commotion inside her slowly ebbing away.

“You don’t want to know that,” he dodged.

“I do. Have you already loved a girl? I mean, properly, from your heart…so much that you would have died for her, like in books?” Gwyneira sighed.

“No, not until now. Though one rarely learns these things with the love of one’s life. Rather, it’s an education you have to pay for.”

“Men can be instructed in this sort of thing?” Gwyneira asked, astonished. Those must have been the only lessons that Lucas ever skipped. “And girls just get thrown into the deep end? Seriously, James, no one tells us what to expect.”

James laughed. “Oh, Gwyn, you’re so innocent, but you’ve got an instinct for the most important things. I can imagine those teaching positions would be highly sought after.” Over the next quarter of an hour, he imparted a lesson on how love could be bought. Gwyn vacillated between disgust and fascination.

“At least the girls make their own money,” she said in the end. “But I would insist that the fellows washed up first!”

When, during the third month of their affair, she didn’t get her period, Gwyneira could hardly believe it. Of course she had already noticed signs—her swollen breasts and intense cravings if there wasn’t a specific cabbage dish on the table. Now that
she was completely sure, her first feeling was one of joy. But a bitter feeling of imminent loss followed. She was pregnant, so there was no longer a reason to continue cheating on her spouse. The idea that she would never again touch James, never again lie naked beside him, kiss him, feel him inside her, or scream with lust at the climax cut her like a knife to the heart.

Gwyneira could not bring herself to reveal the news to James right away. For two days she kept it to herself and saved up every one of James’s stolen, tender glances like a treasure. Never again would he wink at her secretively as he muttered, “Good day, miss” or “But of course, miss,” in passing when they met each other in company.

Never again would he steal a quick kiss from her when no one was looking, and never again would she chide him for taking such a risk.

She continued to postpone the moment of truth longer and longer.

But it couldn’t go on like that. Gwyneira had just returned from riding when James waved to her, pulling her into an empty horse stall with a smile. He wanted to kiss her, but Gwyneira extricated herself from his embrace.

“Not here, James…”

“But tomorrow, in the ring of stone warriors. I’m herding the ewes out. If you want, you can come along. I’ve already mentioned to Mr. Warden that I could really use Cleo.” He winked at her meaningfully. “That wasn’t even a lie. We’ll leave the sheep to her and Daimon, and the two of us will play a little game of ‘survival in the wilderness.’”

“Sorry, James.” Gwyneira did not know how to break the news. “But we can’t do it anymore.”

James frowned. “What can’t we do anymore? Are you busy tomorrow? Is there another visitor coming? Mr. Warden didn’t mention anything.”

Gerald Warden seemed to have been increasingly lonely the last few months. He had been inviting more guests to stay at Kiward Station, usually wool merchants or newly well-off settlers to whom he could show off his exemplary farm by day and with whom he could get soused at night.

Gwyneira shook her head. “No, James, it’s just…I’m pregnant.” There. The truth was out.

“You’re pregnant? That’s wonderful!” On impulse James took her in his arms and swung her around. “Oh yes, you’ve already gotten heavier,” he teased her. “Soon I won’t even be able to lift the two of you.”

When he saw that she wasn’t smiling, he promptly became serious. “What is it, Gwyn? Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I’m happy,” Gwyneira said, blushing. “But I’m also a little sorry. It…it’s been fun with you.”

James laughed. “Well, there’s no reason to stop right away.” He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

“It’s not about desire!” she said sternly. “It’s about morality. We can’t anymore.” She looked at him. In her gaze was sorrow, but also determination.

“Gwyn, am I hearing you right?” James asked, shocked. “You want to call it quits, to throw away everything that we had together? I thought you loved me.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with love,” Gwyneira said quietly. “I’m married, James. I’m not allowed to love another man. And we agreed from the start that you were only helping me to…to bless my marriage with a child.” She hated that she sounded so pathetic, but she didn’t know how else to express it. And she didn’t want to cry under any circumstances.

“Gwyneira, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. It just…happened, like rain or sunshine. You can’t change something like that.”

“When it rains, you can seek shelter,” Gwyneira said softly. “And when the sun’s out, find shade. I can’t stop the rain or heat, but I don’t have to get wet or sunburned.”

James pulled her to him. “Gwyneira, I know you love me too. Come with me. We’ll leave here and start from scratch somewhere else.”

“And where will we go, James?” she asked, mocking him in order not to sound desperate. “What sheep farm will you work on when it becomes known that you abducted Lucas Warden’s wife? The whole South Island knows the Wardens. Do you think Gerald will let you get away with that?”

“Are you married to Gerald or Lucas? And regardless which of the two—neither one stands a chance against me!” James balled his fists.

“Is that so? And how do you intend to compete with them? Fisticuffs or pistols? And then are we supposed to flee into the wilderness to live off nuts and berries?” Gwyneira hated fighting with him. She had hoped to bring everything to a peaceful conclusion with a kiss—bittersweet and heavy as fate, like in a Bulwer-Lytton novel.

“But you like life in the wilderness. Or were you lying? Are you really better suited to the luxury here on Kiward Station? Is it important to you to be the wife of a sheep baron, to throw big parties, to be rich?” James was trying to sound angry, but his words spoke of bitterness instead.

Gwyneira suddenly felt tired. “James, let’s not fight. You know none of that is important to me. But I gave my word. I
am
a sheep baron’s wife. I’d keep it just the same if I were a beggar’s wife.”

“You broke your word when you shared a bed with me!” James flared up. “You’ve already cheated on your husband.”

Gwyneira took a step back. “I never shared a bed with you, James McKenzie,” she said. “You know that very well. I would never have brought you into the house. That…that would’ve…it was different.”

“And what was it? Gwyneira! Please don’t tell me that you were only using me like an animal for breeding.”

Gwyneira just wanted to bring this conversation to an end. She could no longer bear his imploring gaze.

“I asked you, James,” she said softly. “You agreed. To all the conditions. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s right. I’m a Silkham, James. I can’t walk away from my obligations. Whether you understand or not. In any event it can’t be changed. From now on…”

“Gwyneira? What’s going on? Weren’t you supposed to meet me fifteen minutes ago?”

Gwyneira and James hurriedly separated as Lucas entered the stables. He rarely came around there of his own free will, but the day before Gwyneira had promised him that she would finally start sitting for an oil painting the next day. She only agreed because she felt sorry for him—Gerald had once again torn him apart, and Gwyneira
knew that she could end all this torture with a word. But she had not been able to bring herself to talk about her pregnancy before breaking the news to James. So she had thought of sitting for the painting to comfort Lucas. What’s more, she would have plenty of time and leisure to sit still on a stool in the months ahead.

“I’m coming, Lucas. I had…a small problem, and Mr. McKenzie helped me fix it. Thank you very much, Mr. McKenzie.” Gwyneira managed to speak calmly and smile benignly at James, but hoped that she didn’t look too distraught. If only James had been able to keep his feelings under control. His desperate, wounded expression broke her heart.

Fortunately, Lucas did not notice. He only saw the picture he would be sketching of Gwyneira.

That evening Gwyneira told Lucas and Gerald that she was pregnant.