He turned to her during the day and reached for her in the night. His saddle roll was small comfort when he wanted to be pillowed against Lydia’s breasts and feel her fingers sift through his hair. He ached to touch her as well, recall the sweet fragrance that touched the curve of her neck and the soft underside of her elbow. He wanted to caress her with his hands, his lips, his tongue, and make the loving warm and sweet and lingering.
Nathan’s horse whinnied, bringing Nathan back to the present. He finished filling the feedbag, straightened, and jammed his hands in the deep pockets of his wool-and-leather jacket. Striding from the paddock to the house, he felt the taut strain of his body against the button fly of his jeans. What he wanted now was Lydia arching under him, crying out as he took her hot, hard, and fast.
On the threshold of the kitchen he stopped. Lydia was pouring hot water into a large copper tub. Steam rose from the surface of the water and lent her flushed complexion a damp glistening sheen. She dipped her fingers into the water, pulled them back abruptly, swearing under her breath, and added a pan of cool water from the kitchen pump.
Nathan’s eyes wandered over the slender line of her back, the narrow waist belted by a plain white apron, and the hips that curved so gently as she bent over her work. He leaned against the jamb, letting the door swing closed behind him. “Dare I hope that’s for me?”
Lydia jumped and spun around, holding the empty bucket in front of her protectively. Her heart thundered along after her initial fright was over. “You startled me,” she said obviously and inadequately.
“I see that.” He studied her with a lazy, hooded glance. Her heart-shaped face was tilted toward him. She was all dark blue eyes and a wide inviting mouth.
“It is for you,” she said.
For a moment Nathan couldn’t think what she was saying. What was for him? Her eyes? Her mouth? Then he remembered what he looked like. The bath was for him. He rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand and his smile was rueful. He wasn’t even fit to kiss her. Nathan pushed away from the jamb and began shrugging out of his coat.
Lydia unconsciously moved to the far side of the tub as Nathan entered the room. He seemed to fill every available space with his presence, leaving her little room to maneuver or protect herself. Although his appearance now was the polar opposite of how he had looked on their first meeting, Lydia felt as she had then, drawn to the dangerous appeal of his remote eyes and the mouth that merely hinted at a smile. She wanted to respond as she had that first time and run as far and as fast as she could.
She lowered the bucket in front of her. “I saw you from one of the upstairs windows when you were crossing the bridge. I thought you might welcome a bath.”
“I looked bad even at that distance?”
“No,” she said quickly, looking away. “Oh, no…I mean...” He had looked so weary, she thought, pausing on the bridge as he had, reluctant to journey the last hundred yards to the house and equally reluctant to set out in the bush again. “I just thought it might be a small comfort,” she said.
He paused in unbuttoning his shirt. “Thank you.”
Lydia glanced up, smiling. “If you’ll put your things over that chair, I’ll come back for them when you’re in the tub. I have fresh clothes laid out for you upstairs. I’ll get them now.”
Nathan watched her go. He was also reminded of how their first encounter at the Silver Lady ended, and his words, spoken softly to himself were an echo of that occasion. “Oh, Liddy, I think you’ve only postponed the inevitable.”
Chapter 12
“You and Irish are getting on,” Nathan said. He wiped the last bit of lather from his face and tossed the towel on top of the washing stand. On the pretense of checking his shaven jaw for the ravages of the straight razor, Nathan glanced in the mirror again. His eyes, however, focused on Lydia’s reflection. She was sitting in the rocker, her hands folded calmly in her lap and her attention drawn inward to her own thoughts. There was not the least hint of rose color in her cheeks. The fact that he was finished shaving and what that act had previously signified made no impact on her that Nathan could see.
His eyes wandered over her. Her beautiful hair had been loosely plaited in a thick braid. It curved around her neck and fell over her shoulder. The curling tip brushed her breast. The modest collar of her nightgown was buttoned to the hollow of her slender throat and the robe she wore was tightly cinched at her waist. Her feet were bare. Lydia’s heels rested on a rung on the rocker below the seat and the chair swayed back and forth slowly. She looked demur, untouchable, and in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, she was desirable.
Nathan repeated his earlier observation and added, “It was quite evident at dinner this evening. Irish was enjoying himself immensely.”
Lydia suddenly realized Nathan was speaking to her.
Her head snapped up and she stopped worrying the inside of her lip. “We’ve managed a truce of sorts,” she admitted.
“It’s more than that.” He turned away from the mirror and leaned back against the washstand.
“Perhaps it is. I suppose you’re congratulating yourself for whatever progress has been made.”
Nathan began unbuttoning his shirt. “What do you mean?”
“You know very well. You’re not going to deny that your leaving for the bush was planned, are you?”
“Not at all. But you seem to suspect some ulterior motive. My conversation with Irish should have put those thoughts to rest. Didn’t you hear anything I told him at dinner? I thought you were interested.”
“Of course I heard, and of course I was interested, but you’re deliberately misunderstanding me.” Nathan was trying to avoid the very subjects she wanted to discuss and had been almost since the moment he arrived at the house. She could admit to herself that she had hoped the bath and fresh clothes, the solicitous attention paid to him, would soften Nathan to the point where she could venture with her concerns.
Her plan had not worked nearly so well as his own. He had managed to avoid being alone with her until now, giving her no opportunity to say what was on her mind. During dinner the conversation centered on the station, with Nathan reporting to Irish what work needed to be done. There were squatters to roust, a dam in need of extensive repair, and stray livestock to be brought back from neighboring stations. He estimated twenty sheep lost only recently in the northwest to dingos and another hundred gone to bushrangers.
“You know I mean your plan to leave Irish and me in each other’s pockets for a week,” Lydia said. “I’m quite sure you needed to go, and Irish found your report valuable, but it was more important to you that Irish and I make some sort of headway.”
Nathan’s look was considering. His fingers paused on the buttons of his shirt. “Wasn’t it important to you?”
