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My Settlers series was written as a tribute to the
magnificent pioneer women who battled alongside their men to open new frontiers
in far flung corners of the globe. It was inspired by letters sent from
Australia home to Britain by these women who were often torn away from the
family and homeland they loved, forced to endure all kinds of deprivation, but
faced every struggle with strength and fortitude. In this day of washing
machines, supermarkets and homes filled with mod-cons it is difficult to
imagine a life without these amenities, let alone to perceive what it must have
been like traipsing after your menfolk to settle in unknown parts, often over
miles of dangerous territory.
Book Two Distant
Mountains carries on from where we left the characters in Mystic Mountains, and
tells Jeremy’s (known to all as Remy) story. He has been transported to the
settlement of Botany Bay, a town that, although progressing, is still very much
a place ruled by the aristocrats and free settlers. Remy makes the mistake of
falling in love with the daughter of one of these free settlers who happens to
hate convicts, in fact anyone of a lower class. Remy sets out to improve his
circumstances but, on the way has to overcome many obstacles before reaching
his goal.
While researching this book I needed to delve into the conditions that were suffered by the military along with the convicts in Moreton Bay. Most convicts were sent north from Sydney Town as Moreton Bay was considered so isolated that no convict would try to escape and if he did then would have little chance of survival. It is difficult to comprehend that this settlement became the Brisbane we know today. But over and above all else, Distant Mountains is a story of enduring love.
"Amidst the sweet romance and tenderness, Ms. McGill adds the excitement of spousal abuse, bushrangers, forced marriage, kidnapping, and Remy's imprisonment and torture. She shows that a talented author can take a romance and turn it into so much more.” Brett Scott The Romance Studio.
Buy here from your favourite bookseller: https://books2read.com/Distant-Mountains
Prologue
Moreton Bay
September
1828
A
kookaburra warbled its silly head off. Laughing, no doubt, at the stupidity of
man. And the cruelty.
The
sun beat down mercilessly as the cat-o-nine tails whirled and cracked. Dear God! Rem thought. What had he done
to deserve this agony? What had brought him to this—fixed to this triangle like
a carcass nailed to a barn door.
He
tasted blood as he bit down on his lip. Bile rose in his throat. He wouldn’t
scream. Through the battering pain, he registered the quartermaster sergeant
calling out stroke number thirty-six. Blood flowed freely down his back now,
soaking his trousers.
The
magistrate used the cat for revenge.
Rem’s offence was so piffling it was laughable—if a man felt like
laughing, as the bird up yonder did. Fifty lashes were the most the magistrate
had been able to impose for a single offence. Thank God.
Through
the lancing pain, Rem knew he must not scream, must not blubber and forever be
known as a crawler. Hanging onto consciousness by a thread, he sagged against
the bloody, filthy bars of the triangle; a frame tainted by the blood of so
many men, and now would carry his.
“Cut
'im down!” the scourger shouted, and through his agony Rem recognized his
punishment had ended.
Tripping over the hole made by the scourger’s feet during the vile beating, Rem was kept upright by Scab and Salty, the only two men he could vaguely term as mates in this hell. In a flagrant act of disdain, he spat at the feet of the man who had inflicted the agony he now suffered as he stumbled and was half-dragged away. The man who gave him the “red shirt” swore viciously, and before he lost consciousness Rem warned himself to watch what he did in future. These bastards would soon have him back on the frame if he didn’t toe their line.
Chapter One
June 1826
Freedom
was sweet.
The
air was pungent after a short spell of rain. It was cold, the chill air biting,
but Rem reckoned he’d never really feel the cold again. Not in this country,
where the sun shone more often than not; where the coldest day only called for
an extra layer of clothing. He had almost forgotten the biting winds and
bone-chilling cold of London. The thoughts had receded into some dark corner of
his mind, along with the memories that still periodically invaded his sleep.
Memories of hunger and desperation; days of despair when he had wondered if
life was worth all the bother entailed to get through each day.
“Uncle
Remy, where are you?”
Rem
grinned as he pushed himself onto his elbows. His nephew had sought him out
again. Not that he minded; the boy was good company, always ready for a new
lark. Seven come September, Tim was mature for his age. Boys grew up fast out
here in this new land. Here a lad like Tim learned early on as they all did
that he had to work the land; put every ounce of his energy into it to reap the
benefits.
“Over
here, lad.” Rem watched Tim, hair the color of ripened corn drooping over his
forehead, trotting toward the riverbank. One of the sheepdogs, a black and
white mongrel, loped at his heels. Tim always had a dog nearby and it would be
strange to see him without one of his perpetual companions.
“What
you doing sitting out here, Uncle Remy?” Tim squatted on his haunches by Rem’s
side. “Mama was getting all of a fluster because you were supposed to be
working on the new barn, and the foreman said you’d disappeared.”
“Not
disappeared, boy, just taking a break. And, we both know your ma can get
herself into a state over the simplest of things. Don’t the air smell good?”
Rem put his head back and sniffed appreciatively.
Tim
nudged him, sighing. “Air doesn’t smell, silly. The cattle stink, so do the
horses after they do a business, but air hasn’t got a smell.”
Rem
ruffled the golden hair. Pushing himself to his feet, he hauled Tim up with
him. “Come on, let’s go make my sister happy,” he said, swinging Tim easily
onto his back. He strode up the hill with his burden, the dog yelping at their
heels. The boy gripped him about the middle with his knees and shouted
encouragement at his mount.
His
sister, Bella, four months along with her fourth child was at this irksome
stage. Her husband Tiger was often off with his shepherds, laborers, or field
hands, and at these times she liked to know Rem was near at hand.
Rem
had been out here beyond Bathurst with them for a year now, and she still often
stared at him as if she couldn’t quite believe they were together. He wasn’t
surprised by that—he often had to pinch himself to prove it wasn’t a dream. At
times he dreaded he would find himself in the hellish hold of the transport ship. Or worse, at Newcastle
where he could even now be with the gangs quarrying stone or working down the
coal mine. Worst of all he could be with the lime-burners; the convicts who
burned the seashells used to manufacture the lime used as mortar. By all
accounts, it was the vilest job a man could have.
Tiger
could be a hard taskmaster at times, never letting him get off light with any
job. Not that Rem would expect to. He would be eternally grateful for Tiger’s
intervention on his behalf. Tiger had seen Rem released into his care when the
authorities were just about to send Rem off to the hellhole Newcastle had
become. If at times he got itchy feet and the tasks became tedious, Rem only
had to recall the awful days spent on the treadmill in Sydney before coming out
to Tiger and Bella’s property here, west of the Blue Mountain range.
Tiger
had built Bella a fine house of stone, with two floors and a veranda that went
right around its sides. It sat proudly on the ridge facing the river,
outbuildings now springing up in its surrounds. The barn Rem was supposed to be
helping to erect was the latest of these buildings.
“Here
you go.” Rem helped Tim off his back as they reached the six steps that led up
to the front porch.
“See
you later,” the boy yelled as he ran off, his dog at his side.
“Where
you off to in such a hurry?” Rem called after him. But Tim was already out of
earshot, likely in a hurry to escape his mother’s schooling. Not that he would
be able to do that for long, Bella was strict about his lessons and set aside
at least three hours a day for that activity.
“Remy?”
Bella’s sharp call brought him up short as he turned toward the almost
completed barn.
“That’s
me.” Changing direction, he grinned and mounted the steps. His sister stood by
the open door, wiping her hands on the apron covering the front of her plain
blue woolen dress. Rem didn’t think he’d ever get used to having such a
beautiful woman for a sister. Those around her didn’t notice the limp she’d had
since a bolting horse trampled her in Stepney years ago.
Her
rich auburn hair formed a loose bun at the nape of her neck, but tendrils had
escaped and framed her expressive face. Her green eyes sparked with merriment
“Where did you sneak off to again?”
“I
was just taking in the air, love. Isn’t it a fine day?” He half-closed his
eyes, looking up to the sky, where not a smidgen of sun peeped through the gray
clouds.
“Fine?”
She made a disparaging sound in her throat. “You’ve got a vivid imagination.”
There was a soft chiding note in her voice. His sister knew more than anyone
that any day was fine while they were able to walk free and breathe the air of
free men and women.
Yes,
he was still a convict, with five years to go before he could claim his ticket
of leave, but compared to life before Tiger rescued him, this was the next best
thing to being able to hold his head up as a free man.
Bella’s
nursemaid, Agnes, smiled shyly at Rem as she joined her mistress on the porch.
Rosie, the eight-month-old and youngest of Bella and Tiger’s brood, rested on
Agnes’ hip. Agnes, seventeen and a plain little thing, had been with Bella and
Tiger since they set out on their epic journey across the mountains in 1824.
“Isn’t
it a fine day?” Rem asked the girl, knowing she would agree with him if he
declared it was as hot as hell, and the sun had blistered his skin. It was
flattering to be idolized. Bothersome at times, but nonetheless a wonderful
thing to have a female willing to do anything he asked. Some devil inside him
often wanted to see to what lengths she would go to please him, although his
kind heart wouldn’t allow him to do it.
“It
certainly is,” Agnes agreed, as he’d known she would. “'Tis a bit cool, but
that’s not to be sniffed at. Beats summer when the sun makes you shrivel.”
Agnes
didn’t like the hot weather. She complained it burned her fair skin, brought
her out in freckles, made her skin go blotchy, and made her feel weak as a dish
rag. Although complained wasn’t the right word to use; Agnes never did anything
quite so definite. She was too mousy and insignificant. A small apologetic
grumble was about as close to a complaint she dared to venture.
Bella
nodded to Rem and went back inside the house. Agnes’s skin turned to the color
of a beet as she stared at Rem. Her eyelashes were so light they could barely
be seen—this only added to her mouse-like appearance. She jerked the baby
higher into her arms, and bobbed Rosie about on her ample hip until the child
squealed. As if surprised at what she’d done, Agnes crooned soft words of
apology to the baby.
Rem
knew he shouldn’t do it, but the girl begged to be teased. Moving within a foot
of her, he gave her the smile more than one maid told him was appealing. “How’s
the little mother today?”
“I’m
fine, and how are you?” She nibbled on her lower lip as her eyes adored him.
Rem
shrugged. “Tell the truth, Aggie, I’m bored to my high teeth. There are few
chances out here to ease the monotony. I know I should be grateful for Tiger
taking me on and bringing me here, but I’m not made for the country life. I
miss the noise and bustle of the city. Not that I wish to return to Stepney.”
When she shook her head and gave him a look of condemnation that he could be so
ungrateful, he hastened to add, “But a bit of excitement would add spice to
this dull existence now and then. If you know what I mean?”
“Seems
to me the city life only brought you into more strife than a body needs,” she
scolded softly.
Rem
moved in closer and ran a finger over the blush on her cheeks, chuckling at her
huffy response. “True.”
Glancing
about, he bent in closer, until he almost touched noses with her. He could feel
the heat coming off her rounded body, could practically feel the shiver he
guessed ran through her at his closeness. “But there’s strife, an’ then there’s
other things the town has to offer.”
“Rem
O’Shea, seems to me you don’t know when you’re well off.” She hunched a
shoulder when he continued to stroke her cheek, but she didn’t step out of his
range, as any city miss would have done. She was a sweet little chit, unworldly
and naïve.
Rosie
reached out to grab at his hair, and he laughed as he took the tiny fist into
his hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, which pleased the child, and made
Agnes tremble even more.
“Oh,
I know well enough. But don’t you yearn for a bit of excitement in your life
now and then, Aggie girl?” He watched with a kind of fascination as the blush
fluctuated on her face. What a shame she wasn’t more prepossessing. What a pity
he didn’t share her infatuation. That at least would ease the boredom that
gripped him at times until he could yell. Of course, he liked to think he
wasn’t so fickle all he thought of was a wench’s looks, but her temperament was
so bland. Rem liked his women with fire and fervor and a temper to match his
own.
“Excitement?
I get more than my fair share of that chasing after young Tim, Annie, and this
little 'un.” She glanced at the babe in her arms, smiling down at Rosie
affectionately. The child pinched Agnes’ nose, making it turn an unbecoming
shade of red. “Then there’ll be another one come November, so I’ll have my
hands full.”
“Mm,
my sister and Tiger certainly are helping to populate this part of the world,
ain’t they?” He laughed, chucking Rosie beneath the chin. “But looking after
toddlers and tots ain’t my idea of fun, Aggie. I had something different in
mind.” He eyed her plain garb, scuffed boots, and mobcap. Her clothes did
nothing to enhance her round shape. “Don’t you ever want to dress up and
traipse around like the gentry?”
“I’m
not gentry, and can’t see the point in yearning after the impossible,” she
stated pragmatically, shrugging. “I’m happy to have a good home here with the
missus and master. And you should be too.”
Rem
sighed and turned to stare where the mountains loomed in the distance, like an
impenetrable barrier between him and the excitement he craved. She was right,
of course. He should be happy, but he
yearned for so much more out of life than tending sheep and building barns and
tilling the soil. Tiger was happy enough building his empire, and Bella was
content to stand at his side and bear his children. If only Rem didn’t have to
wait another five years to gain his ticket of leave, and his freedom.
Without
another word he sauntered off to the barn, hands dug deep into the pockets of
his breeches.
* * *
Agnes
watched his broad back, her eyes feasting on the strong length of his legs, the
width of his shoulders, his head of rich dark red hair that reminded her of
burnished chestnuts when the sun caught it, turning it to flame. The familiar
yearning weighed heavily on her heart. If only she were even slightly pretty.
If only she were more intelligent and bright as a penny, as were most other
girls of her age. She’d learned a lot sitting in on lessons the mistress gave
Tim every day, but knew she was still as unworldly as when first plucked from
the orphanage nearly two years ago by the master, to come here over the
mountains with them as nursemaid.
There
weren’t many young females around these parts, but the few who had come west
with their kin were certainly more fetching than she, with her ordinary brown
hair and face that wouldn’t stand out in any crowd, large or small. Her bosom
was too big for her body, making her top-heavy, or so it seemed. Her behind
stuck out so she looked like one of the ducks waddling about. That the babies
fitted snugly on her over-large hips was about all that could be said in her
body’s favor. Even if she forced herself into a corset, she doubted she would
look any more attractive. No, an ugly duckling she was, never to become a swan.
With
a drawn-out sigh, she pressed a kiss on Rosie’s cheek. This would likely be her
lot in life. To look after other folk’s children, to die an old spinster out
here in the wilds; never to know the joy of nursing her own babe at her breast.
“No
use pining for things that will never be, eh?” she asked the child as she
stepped back inside and walked along the passage stretching from the front to
the back of the lower floor of the house. Entering the kitchen, she put a
bright smile on her face.
The
family’s second child, Annie, who would be two-years-old in a month, sat on a
rug near the stove that threw out a welcoming heat; the rag doll Agnes had made
for Annie’s last birthday was cradled in her arms.
The
mistress was helping Gracie prepare dinner. The smell of roasting lamb filled
the air. Gracie, in her fifty-seventh year, was as cheerful as a rooster
surrounded by hens, and never seemed to yearn for things beyond her reach.
Gracie came over on the same transport ship as the mistress, and the two were
as close as two women could get without being sisters.
“'Ullo
dearly,” she chirped. “'Ow’s about a cup o’ tea, eh?” That was Gracie’s answer
to all ills.
Agnes
pulled a face. Gracie was unmarried and seemed happy enough with her lot in
life. She received an offer of marriage in Sydney, but chose to turn her suitor
down in preference of joining the mistress in this part of the world the master
was slowly taming.
“Thank
you,” Agnes said as the older woman put the steaming cup on the table. Bending,
Agnes put Rosie in the cradle. She sat down and sipped the drink, one foot
rocking the cradle, her mind on the tall man with shining red hair who held her
heart in his capable hands but didn’t want it.
Chapter Two
July
2 1826
Rem
stared at Sara Greenwood, unable to take his eyes off this beauty. She was,
without a doubt, the most entrancing creature he’d ever seen. With hair and
eyes as black as sin and flawless skin like pure porcelain, her face was that
of a goddess. A bloom on her cheeks gave her face a vital sheen of good health.
How his fingers itched to unpin her silken tresses from their neat coils. He
ached to touch that skin to see if it felt as soft and downy as it looked.
She
carried her youth and beauty with a proud bearing missing in so many of the
young women in the colony; these women brooded and sulked, despairing of their
lot in life after being dragged to this awful continent by their fathers
against their will. Most had pasty faces they kept well hidden beneath
large-brimmed bonnets to shield them from the sun they saw as an enemy to their
complexions.
Rem
thanked God it was a Sunday, and they allowed him to join the small gathering.
The thought he might have missed meeting this goddess made him shudder. Tiger
made a habit of inviting all newcomers to the district to his and Bella’s home
soon after their arrival. The Greenwoods had recently settled here after living
in Sydney for five years. Bella met them briefly on a trip into town, and Rem
knew by her remarks she wasn’t particularly enamoured of Edmund Greenwood or his
timid wife Eleanor. Rem couldn’t give a damn about them, but was already half
in love with their daughter.
“So
charmed to meet you,” Sara was saying to Bella and Tiger, who were decked out
in the finery kept solely for such occasions.
Extending
her long, slender fingers, Sara took their welcoming outstretched hands one
after the other. Turning to Rem, she offered the same delicate hand, and he
bowed over it reverently. Her scent filled his nostrils, battered at his
senses. Like a garden in full bloom, or a bowl of roses. Not very poetic, he
knew, but she would forever remind him of a spring day; an English one, where
rosebuds sent out their fragrance to entice the bees, and butterflies were
entranced by the colours.
Rem
realized his breathing was as uneven as his heartbeat. As he straightened,
their eyes met, and for one infinitesimal moment Rem felt sure a message passed
between them. Could she be as smitten as he?
“We
are delighted to meet you at last,” Bella said, and for a moment, Rem wondered
what she was talking about. So entranced was he, everything had gone out of his
head, except this vision of loveliness.
“How
do you find it here in Bathurst?” Bella asked graciously as they all took seats
on the porch.
Sara
spread the skirt of her blue dress about her knees, her dainty feet clad in
black pumps peeped beneath the hem. Those bewitching eyes, filled with a sort
of devilment met Rem’s as Bella continued, “I’m so glad the weather has seen
fit to hold.” She looked to the sky, where a weak winter sun tried its
damnedest to shine through the gray clouds.
“As
I’m mighty glad it’s decided not to rain before we’ve had a chance to settle in
our house,” Sara’s burly father said, as he settled his large frame on a chair,
and huffed. “I must say I’m also glad we brought plenty of help with us to this
godforsaken neck of the woods.” He had a perpetual air of grievance about him,
as if the world should have tried harder to do better by him.
“'Tis
a good life, once you grow used to it, and if you’re prepared to work hard for
what you wish to attain, it’s very rewarding,” Tiger said, looking out over his
land. It was obvious to Rem his brother-in-law was no more enamored of this man
than he was. Edmund Greenwood was brusque to the point of rudeness and
loud-mouthed. How did an ugly brutish man manage to sire an angel like Sara?
And how did her meek and homely mother ever produce such a beauty? Perhaps she
had been adopted. The thought made him smile, and he glanced over at his angel
in time to see her watching him, her delicate brows raised.
Turning
to Sara’s mother, Bella offered, “You must call on me for any help you need. We
lean on each other out here where months can go by without us seeing anyone
from the other side of the mountains.”
The pallid, insignificant woman looked to be
about sixty in age, but was more than likely only in her forties. Rem suspected
years of living with a boor had etched those deep lines on her face. Her
pinched mouth looked forever on the verge of protest. Though, Rem doubted she
would ever dare to come forth with a complaint.
“Thank
you.” The words came out on a thready whisper. Glancing up like a scared hare,
Mrs. Greenwood added, “I didn’t want to come,” earning a wrathful glare from
her husband.
“Balderdash!”
Edmund waved an arm, his brows beetling, and she seemed to shrivel even more.
“You’ll soon get used to it. And with kindly ladies like Mrs. Carstairs here”
—he gave Bella a sickly, condescending glance—“you’ll soon acclimatize.”
“I
found it very strange when I first arrived in the colony.” Bella smiled at Mrs.
Greenwood, and Rem thought, for the umpteenth time, what a lovely woman his
sister was. “And please call me Bella,” she invited. “Everyone does. We don’t
stand on ceremony here. Being so isolated we have to become friends.”
Rem
wondered if these people knew his sister and her husband had both been
convicts, sent to the colony by the British Government, same as he had. No
doubt they did, for news travelled fast despite the great distances. Gossip was
rife among the Exclusives and the Emancipists.
“‘Course
you did. We all have to learn to change.” Edmund gave his wife a look that said
she would have to change, or accept his wrath. Her hands trembled, and she
twined them together on her lap.
“And
how do you like living so far from the town?” Rem turned to ask the beauty
seated beside him.
She
shrugged. Her pouting lips were as soft, full, and pink as the rosebuds she
smelt of. His insides ached with the desire to see if they tasted half as sweet
as they looked. Jesus, he wanted to ravish her, to strip her and taste every
part of the delectable body he knew the wool of her garment hid.
Her
eyes slid from his dark red curls to the boots he was glad he’d polished for
the occasion. Something deep inside him began to shake with his response.
Barely
past her seventeenth birthday, so Bella had told him, and already she wore the
look of a woman in control of her life and her responses. How he would like to
help her lose her cool control. He made up his mind that would be his driving
purpose in life from now on; sure in his conceit he would win her no matter
what.
“I
would have liked to stay in Sydney Town. I have my governess and companion
still, who accompanied us over here, so I will have to bear it. For a while.”
She sounded utterly bored, and Rem wanted to stand up and shout that he would
take her wherever she yearned to go.
Her
father gave her another of his wrathful glares and boomed, “Bear it, will you?
'Tis my belief there’s too many wrong 'uns in the town now. Wanted to stay over
there, they did.” He jerked his head toward his long-suffering wife and his
beautiful daughter and snorted. “You talk some sense into them, madam.” His
smile reminded Rem of a conniving crook.
“I
wasn’t too happy about leaving the town myself,” Bella said, giving Tiger the
special smile she kept for her husband; one that left everyone else out of the
loving and intimate world the two shared.
Rem
now knew the full story of how Bella lost her first husband, Dougal, and her
second-born son Dougie, on the dreadful journey across the mountains to settle
over here. She battled Tiger every step of the way in those days, fighting her
love for him. Rem knew that now she wouldn’t consider going back to town, even
if Tiger was to give her the option, which Rem knew he wouldn’t. His life was
here now, with his family, expanding his empire. Oh, they argued often still,
but their fights were the quarrels of lovers; and any onlooker, including
himself, always knew the rows were made up as only lovers’ tiffs could be
reconciled.
“As
with all things, it becomes better once you grow used to the isolation,” Bella
continued. “We have quite a few families settled here now. Our small community
manages to get along despite the differences in our backgrounds.”
“‘Course
they do,” Edmund bellowed, as if no one would dare to argue the case with him.
“I
hear you left a manager in charge of your business in town,” Tiger said,
successfully managing to conceal the disdain Rem knew Tiger felt for this brash
man. Rem guessed this was likely now multiplied after
seeing the way Edmund treated his wife and daughter.
“That’s
right.” Greenwood preened as he smiled condescendingly. Tiger had told Rem and
Bella of how Greenwood arrived in Sydney five years ago as a free man and
opened a store stocked with merchandise purchased cheaply at ports of call on
the voyage over.
“My
emporium is one of the largest and most successful now,” he boasted. Grimacing,
he shook his head. “If only we didn’t have to put up with so much riff-raff in
the people I’m forced to employ.”
Tiger
looked toward the mutton, roasting above a fire next to the garden, Bella’s
pride and joy. One of the hands signaled it was ready. “It looks as if the meat
is about done.”
They
strolled to a table laid with cloth and cutlery, where Rem ensured he sat
beside his beautiful enchantress. He saw Bella’s raised eyebrows, but chose to
take no notice of his sister’s silent warning.
Gracie
began to serve, aided by one of the new women brought from Sydney recently to
help with the household chores. They served steaming dishes of turnips,
carrots, and potatoes.
“You
might be wishing you'd stayed in Sydney, but I can’t tell you how happy I am
you're here.” Rem gave Sara his most beguiling smile, one nurtured in the past
year. Agnes, usually the recipient of such smiles, tended the children at a
smaller table set aside for them. Her antipathy toward the beauty at Rem’s side
was blatant. If looks were daggers, Sara would have been dead within five
minutes of Agnes setting sight on her. Poor insignificant Agnes.
“I
don’t know which is worse, to be candid. I wished we’d never come out to this
country of savages, but my father was convinced a fortune was waiting to be
made.” She flicked a glance at her father, now boring Tiger with a discourse on
trading practices. Tiger’s expression clearly showed his indifference to her
father’s monologue.
“And
has he made his fortune yet?” Rem didn’t take his eyes from her face. Every
move she made entranced him more and more. He couldn’t give a brass farthing
for her father’s possessions, but anything that got her talking was worth the
effort.
“He’s
wealthy, if that’s what you mean. My mother and I are allowed to purchase
whatever we need to make us presentable in society.”
“Society?”
Rem laughed, glancing about. “Hardly that out here.”
She
picked sparingly at the food set before her. “You’re right. We could all walk
around in plain clothes and not give a fig for our appearance, and who would
know or care? It really is a land of savages.” The poignancy of her quiet
statement struck him in the heart.
“I
would care.” Rem stared at her hard, and thought, such a hothouse plant should
be pampered and spoiled, brought up amongst the society in London, not dragged
to a godforsaken place like this. “Never change, sweet Sara. Always stay as
beautiful and elegantly attired as you are now, no matter the cost or effort.
Promise me.”
“All
right. I will promise you that.” Her small laugh made his gut wrench. “Will you
show me around the property?” she asked, glancing down the table.
The
meal was almost at an end, and the others were still engrossed in a debate on
the merits of sheep farming versus trading; Tiger enthusing about the price of
fleece on the English market.
She
had a way of fluttering her eyelashes that sent Rem’s heart into a spin. Trying
not to show his eagerness, and thus appearing like a smitten schoolboy, Rem
rose slowly, bowing over her hand. “I would be honored.” He pressed a kiss on
her knuckle and was pleased to see her soft cheeks turn delightfully pink.
“Where
are you off to?” Edmund bellowed, interrupting their discussion, as she settled
her skirts about her with a pat of the hand.
Rem
held his breath, expecting her father’s annoyance to deter her, but then she
said sweetly, “Rem is going to show me around, Papa,” and gave Edmund a peck on
his florid cheek. She smiled demurely at Bella. “And I need to walk after such
a splendid meal. Thank you, Mrs. Carstairs. It was most enjoyable. But I
shouldn’t have eaten so much.”
“Please
call me Bella,” Bella insisted, waving them on their way. “Go on with you, and
enjoy your stroll.” Rem grinned at Bella’s meaningful look. A look that clearly
stated he was to watch his step with this beauty, or bear the wrath of her
father.
Rem
knew Greenwood wouldn’t make a scene in front of Bella and Tiger and smiled to
himself. “Come, I’ll show you the orchard Tiger planted soon after they arrived
here.” Offering his arm, he inhaled her fragrance as she hooked her hand in his
elbow.
When
they were out of earshot of the others, he said softly, “You smell as sweet as
a garden full of blooms.”
She
tapped him on the chest with her fan and smiled, showing dear little dimples in
her cheeks. “Hmm.” With a chuckle, she wrinkled her nose pertly. “I’m surprised
I don’t stink like one of the horses, considering our mode of transport.”
“There’s
no decent lanes or carriage ways yet. It’s difficult for you to be jolted over
the stubble in your wagon. Tiger’s working hard at improving that. Soon
there’ll be a passable road connecting the properties on this side of the
river. You should have seen it last year when I arrived.”
“Is
that how long you’ve been here?”
“Eighteen
months to be precise. The house was half-built, and we lived in sod huts.” He
grimaced.
“Don’t
you get bored out here in the middle of nowhere?” she asked as he led her
around the almond trees toward where the stone-fruit trees grew. They were well
away from the house now, and he looked over his shoulder to see if they could
be watched from the table.
“Truth
is, bored out of my head, Sara.” With a hand on her back he propelled her to a
seat Tiger had positioned for Bella in the shade of what would eventually be a
flourishing apple tree. She shivered, and he asked, “Are you warm enough?”
“It
is cooler here.” She hugged her arms across her chest.
“Would
you like to go back?” he asked, praying she would say no.
“No,
would you?” Slanting him a provocative look, she flashed him a wicked smile,
her dimples more pronounced.
“I
want nothing more than to be here with you.” Rem took off his jacket and draped
it across her shoulders. “Is that better?”
“Much.”
She shrugged into its warmth. “Now you’ll be cold.”
“Me?
Not while I’m this close to you. You set my blood afire, did you know that?”
Rem longed to plant a kiss on one of those indentations on her cheek, to
explore it with his tongue. He held her gaze and reached for one of her dainty
hands.
Her
chuckle was charming as she tapped him again with the fan. “Gentlemen aren’t
supposed to say things like that to ladies,” she admonished, but he got the
distinct impression she wasn’t the least affronted by his bluntness.
“I
ain’t a gentleman, Sara. I’m a convict, plain and simple. Does that bother
you?” Sitting beside her, he pressed his thigh to her skirts. She didn’t move
away, although her look said she was slightly shocked.
“No,
it doesn’t bother me. Unless, of course, you intend to act like one and be
brutish. What did you do to get transported?” she asked.
Rem
shrugged. “Same as most. Not a lot. Pinched food to help my family. Most
convicts are just like me, ordinary men and women charged with transportation
for petty crimes.” The memories, dulled in the past year, resurfaced. “Papa
died in prison, our mum died the year I was sent out here, and one of our
sisters died of starvation and the cold.” Rem grimaced as he remembered the
awful winters they had to endure; winters with no food, no heat, and the threat
of disease a part of their everyday existence.
“How
sad.” She seemed genuinely appalled by his plight. “So is Bella all the family
you have left?”
“No.
We have another two sisters and two brothers still in Stepney, although Carlos,
the eldest, will more than likely end up here soon. Likely the others will too
eventually. It’s the way of things. A fact of life.”
“Carlos?
What a foreign-sounding name. Why would your brother be named such?” Her limpid
eyes turned on him inquisitively.
“Our
papa was Spanish.” Her eyes widened, and Rem quickly asked, “Does that bother
you?”
“Bother
me? Why no.” With a careless flick of the hand, she said, “But it does surprise
me. Although it shouldn’t really, for your sister’s name, Isabella, is Spanish,
is it not?”
“Right.”
“And
now that I look at you closely, I can see you do have the appearance about you
unlike most of the English men here in the colony.” Her gaze roved over his
face. He sincerely hoped she liked what she saw.
“And
is my different look distasteful to you?” Rem knew he was seeking compliments
from her, but couldn’t help himself. How he yearned for her to be as entranced
as he was by everything about her.
“Distasteful?
Why of course not.” Leaning closer, she said in a husky tone that set his
pulses to racing and his heart pounding at a fierce rate, “You're extremely
handsome of face. But I expect you’ve been told so by countless women.” With a
sniff, she looked swiftly away.
Rem
chuckled, feeling ten feet tall. “A few have assured me I’m not ugly. In truth,
you’re the first to tell me I’m handsome,” he lied. “And I can’t say how much
it pleases me to know you admire my looks, for I must tell you that I find you
the most entrancing woman on earth. You’re beautiful, clever, witty…”
“Stop.”
With a laugh, she held up both hands then tapped him on his knee. “You’ll turn
my head with your compliments.”
“I
only speak the truth.” Rem bent his head to whisper near her shell-shaped ear,
“I love you with all my heart. And when I’m out of my term and a free man; then
I’ll ask your father for your sweet hand.” He placed a kiss on her knuckle, and
a tremor raced over her skin. He hoped it wasn’t just the cool air causing
it. He hoped she was as enamored of him
as he was of her. “Will you wait for me?”
Her
eyes widened at his impudence, but he knew without being told that his words
captured her interest. “What nonsense. How can you speak of love, Remy? You’ve
only just met me. How can you possibly have such strong feelings for me on such
a short acquaintance?”
“Love
knows no boundaries, of time or place. I’ll feel the same fifty years from now
as I feel at this moment,” he swore with fervour, cupping her chin with his
palm. Strangely, he knew his words were true. He had felt a strong attraction
for a few women before, but nothing like this all-encompassing devotion that
seemed to fill all his senses.
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