But he had come back to Meggie immediately it was over and saidnothing, only cast his eyes toward the ceiling in a way which lefther in no doubt that to him Miss Carmichael was a bore. And sheloved him for it; ever since the day the lady had interfered with herpleasure at the Gilly Show, Meggie had disliked her. She had never forgotten the way Father Ralph had ignored the lady to lift a smallgirl over a puddle; now tonight Luke showed himself in those samecolors. Oh, bravo! Luke, you’re splendid!It was a very long way home, and very cold. Luke had cajoled apacket of sandwiches and a bottle of champagne out of old AngusMacQueen, and when they were nearly two-thirds of the way homehe stopped the car. Heaters in cars were extremely rare in Australiathen as now, but the Rolls was equipped with a heater; that nightit was very welcome, for the frost lay two inches thick on theground. 

     “Oh, isn’t it nice to sit without a coat on a night like this?”Meggie smiled, taking the little silver collapsible cup of champagneLuke gave her, and biting into a ham sandwich. 

     “Yes, it is. You look so pretty tonight, Meghann.”What was it about the color of her eyes? Grey wasn’t normallya color he cared for, too anemic, but looking at her grey eyes hecould have sworn they held every color in the blue end of thespectrum, violet and indigo and the sky on a rich clear day, deepmossy green, a hint of tawny yellow. And they glowed like soft,half-opaque jewels, framed by those long curling lashes whichglittered as if they had been dipped in gold. He reached out anddelicately brushed his finger along the lashes of one eye, then solemnlylooked down at its tip.            “Why, Luke! What’s the matter?” 

     “I couldn’t resist seeing for myself that you don’t have a pot ofgold powder on your dressing table. Do you know you’re the onlygirl I’ve ever met with real gold on her eyelashes?” 

     “Oh!” She touched them herself, looked at her finger, laughed. 

     “So I have! It doesn’t come off at all.” The champagne was ticklingher nose and fizzing in her stomach; she felt wonderful. 

     “And real gold eyebrows that have the same shape as a churchroof, and the most beautiful real gold hair  …I always expect it to be hard like metal, yet it’s soft and fine likea baby’s…. And skin you must use gold powder on, it shinesso…And the most beautiful mouth, just made for kissing…”.She sat staring at him with that tender pink mouth slightly open,the way it had been on their first meeting; he reached out and tookthe empty cup from her. 

     “I think you need a little more champagne,” he said, filling it. 

     “I must admit this is nice, to stop and give ourselves a little breakfrom the track. And thank you for thinking of asking Mr. MacQueenfor the sandwiches and wine.”The big Rolls engine ticked gently in the silence, warm airpouring almost soundlessly through the vents; two separate kindsof lulling noise. Luke unknotted his tie and pulled it off, openedhis shirt collar. Their jackets were on the back seat, too warm forthe car.      “Oh, that feels good! I don’t know who invented ties and theninsisted a man was only properly dressed when he wore one, butif ever I meet him, I’ll strangle him with his own invention.”He turned abruptly, lowered his face to hers, and seemed to catchthe rounded curve of her lips exactly into his, like two pieces of ajigsaw puzzle; though he didn’t hold her or touch her elsewhereshe felt locked to him and let her head follow as he leaned back,drawing her forward onto his chest. His hands came up to claspher head, the better to work at that dizzying, amazingly responsivemouth, drain it. Sighing, he abandoned himself to feeling nothingelse, at home at last with those silky baby’s lips finally fitting hisown. Her arm slid around his neck, quivering fingers sank into hishair, the palm of her other hand coming to rest on the smoothbrown skin at the base of his throat. This time he didn’t hurry,though he had risen and hardened before giving her the secondcup of champagne, just from looking at her. Not releasing her head,he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes, the curving bones of the orbits beneathher brows, came back to her cheeks because they were so satiny,came back to her mouth because its infantile shape drove him mad,had driven him mad since the day he first saw her.And there was her throat, the little hollow at its base, the skinof her shoulder so delicate and cool and dry…. Powerless to call ahalt, almost beside himself with fear lest she should call a halt, heremoved one hand from her head and plucked at the long row ofbuttons down the back of her dress, slid it off her obedient arms,then the straps of her loose satin slip. Face buried between her neckand shoulder, he passed the tips of his fingers down her bare back,feeling her startled little shivers, the sudden hard points to herbreasts. He pushed his face lower in a blind, compulsive touch searchof one cold, cushioned surface, lips parted, pressing down,until they closed over taut ruched flesh. His tongue lingered for adazed minute, then his hands clutched in agonized pleasure on herback and he sucked, nipped, kissed, sucked…. The old eternal impulse,his particular preference, and it never failed. It was so good,good, good, goooooood! He did not cry out, only shuddered for awrenching, drenching moment, and swallowed in the depths of histhroat.Like a satiated nursling, he let the nipple pop out of his mouth,formed a kiss of boundless love and gratitude against the side ofher breast, and lay utterly still except for the heaves of his breathing.He could feel her mouth in his hair, her hand down inside his shirt,and suddenly he seemed to recollect himself, opened his eyes.Briskly he sat up, pulled her slip straps up her arms, then her dress,and fastened all the buttons deftly. 

     “You’d better marry me, Meghann,” he said, eyes soft andlaughing. 

     “I don’t think your brothers would approve one little bitof what we just did.” 

     “Yes, I think I’d better too,” she agreed, lids lowered, a delicateflush in her cheeks.        “Let’s tell them tomorrow morning.” 

     “Why not? The sooner the better.” 

     “Next Saturday I’ll drive you into Gilly. We’ll see FatherThomas—I suppose you’d like a church wedding—arrange for thebanns, and buy an engagement ring.” 

     “Thank you, Luke.”Well, that was that. She had committed herself, there could beno turning back. In a few weeks or however long it took to callbanns, she would marry Luke O’Neill. She would be…. Mrs. LukeO’Neill! How strange! Why did she say yes? Because he told meI must, he said I was to do it. But why? To remove him fromdanger? To protect himself, or me? Ralph de Bricassart, sometimesI think I hate you….The incident in the car had been startling and disturbing. Not abit like that first time. So many beautiful, terrifying sensations. Oh,the touch of his hands! That electrifying tugging at her breastsending vast widening rings clear through her! And he did it rightat the moment her conscience had reared its head, told the mindlessthing she seemed to have become that he was taking off her clothes,that she must scream, slap him, run away. No longer lulled andhalf senseless from champagne, from warmth, from the discoverythat it was delicious to be kissed when it was done right, his firstgreat gulping taking-in of her breast had transfixed her, stilledcommon sense, conscience and all thought of flight. Her shoulderscame up off his chest, her hips seemed to subside against him, herthighs and that unnamed region at their top rammed by hissqueezing hands against a ridge of his body hard as a rock, andshe had just wanted to stay like that for the rest of her days, shakento her soul and yawning empty, wanting…. Wanting what? Shedidn’t know. In the moment at which he had put her away fromhim she hadn’t wanted to go, could even have flown at him like asavage. But it had set the seal on her hardening resolve to marry Luke O’Neill. Not to mention that she was convinced he had doneto her the thing which made babies start. 

     No one was very surprised at the news, and no one dreamed ofobjecting. The only thing which did startle them was Meggie’sadamant refusal to write and tell Bishop Ralph, her almost hystericalrejection of Bob’s idea that they invite Bishop Ralph toDrogheda and have a big house wedding. No, no, no! She hadscreamed it at them; Meggie who never raised her voice. Apparentlyshe was miffed that he had never come back to see them, maintainingthat her marriage was her own business, that if he didn’t havethe common decency to come to Drogheda for no reason, she wasnot going to furnish him with an obligation he could not refuse. 

     So Fee promised not to say a word in her letters; she seemed notto care one way or the other, nor did she seem interested in Meggie’schoice of a husband. Keeping the books of a station as largeas Drogheda was a full-time job. Fee’s records would have serveda historian with a perfect description of life on a sheep station, forthey didn’t simply consist of figures and ledgers. Every movementof every mob of sheep was rigidly described, the changes of theseasons, the weather each day, even what Mrs. Smith served fordinner. 

     The entry in the log book for Sunday, July 22, 1934, said:Sky clear, no cloud, temperature at dawn 34 degrees. No Mass today.Bob in, Jack out at Murrimbah with 2 stockmen, Hughie out at WestDam with 1 stockman, Beerbarrel droving 3-year wethers fromBudgin to Winnemurra. Temperature high at 3 o’clock, 85 degrees.Barometer steady, 30.6 inches. Wind due west. Dinner menu cornedbeef, boiled potatoes, carrots and cabbage, then plum duff. MeghannCleary is to marry Mr. Luke O’Neill, stockman, on Saturday August25 at the Holy Cross Church, Gillanbone. Entered 9 o’clock evening,temperature 45 degrees, moon last quarter.  

 

Chapter 11

     Luke bought Meggie a diamond engagement ring, modest but quitepretty, its twin quarter-carat stones set in a pair of platinum hearts.The banns were called for noon on Saturday, August 25th, in theHoly Cross Church. This would be followed by a family dinner atthe Hotel Imperial, to which Mrs. Smith, Minnie and Cat werenaturally invited, though Jims and Patsy had been left in Sydneyafter Meggie said firmly that she couldn’t see the point in bringingthem six hundred miles to witness a ceremony they didn’t reallyunderstand. She had received their letters of congratulations; Jims’slong, rambling and childlike, Patsy’s consisting of three words,“Lots of luck.” They knew Luke, of course, having ridden theDrogheda paddocks with him during their vacations.Mrs. Smith was grieved at Meggie’s insistence on as small an affairas possible; she had hoped to see the only girl married onDrogheda with flags flying and cymbals clashing, days of celebration.But Meggie was so against a fuss she even refused to wearbridal regalia; she would be married in a day dress and an ordinaryhat, which could double afterwards as her traveling outfit.“Darling, I’ve decided where to take you for our honeymoon,”Luke said, slipping into a chair opposite hers the Sunday after theyhad made their wedding plans.