“Congratulations! To both of you,” her mother said with a thin smile. “I hope you have a very happy future.”
“Thank you,” Jack replied, his tone smacking of deep satisfaction at having wrung this public well-wishing from her mother. “You, too, Lady Ellen, Mr. Byrne.”
“We must make plans for another meeting,” Clifford Byrne threw in, obviously feeling impelled to be hospitable to his wife’s family now that they’d made themselves known to him. “Why don’t you and Sally visit us in New Zealand?”
“Not in a million years,” her mother bit out, the fury she’d been hiding seething through the words.
Her sucked-in husband was startled into leaning forward to look at her. “What? What’s that you say?”
She glared at him, the intensity of her hatred for Jack turning the plastic beauty of her face quite ugly, the stunning force of her feeling causing Clifford Byrne to reel back, shocked by a side of her he hadn’t seen before, perhaps even beginning to wonder if he had been deceived in other things by the woman he’d so hastily married.
“I believe Lady Ellen said, ‘Not in a million years,’” Jack repeated with relish, delighted that she had been unmasked enough for her true colours to show. “A sentiment I happen to share,” he tossed at her with a flick of contempt. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have a horse running in the next race, and Sally and I want to watch it win.”
Game over!
The poker champion had once more played a winning hand.
But had its substance been a bluff?
Or was everything he’d said real?
Sally’s head was swimming with these critical questions as he led her away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“ALL fixed,” Jack murmured with triumphant satisfaction, steering Sally out of the marquee, heading towards the racetrack.
A huge sigh shuddered from her chest. She braved a glance at him, needing to know how much of the fix was fiction designed to drown her mother’s attempt to muddy the waters between them. He looked happy and devilishly handsome, his eyes sparkling with unholy pleasure in the outcome he had forced.
“Are you really putting the property in my name?” she blurted out.
He laughed. “Yes, my darling girl, I am. Victor Newell is currently in the process of making it legal.”
My darling girl…it was his pet name for her, mostly used after they made love. She’d thought it carried a deep affection for her, but she wasn’t sure if it wasn’t simply an expression of his pleasure in the pleasure she’d given him, the sense of intimate possession which was naturally felt at such a time. Yet this was the second time today he’d said it outside of that sexual context and it fed her burgeoning hope for the love she craved from him—a lasting love.
His mouth twisted ruefully. “I had planned to surprise you with the title deeds for Christmas, but now the secret’s out, I’ll have to add something else.”
“No, you won’t,” she said anxiously. “As it is, I can’t possibly match such a huge gift, and I don’t think I should accept it, Jack.”
“You’ve more than matched it, Sally. Just by being you and giving me so much of yourself.”
The low sexy throb in his voice and the simmering heat in his eyes made her duck her head, using the brim of her hat to hide her face and the anguished doubt in her mind.
Was it only sex?
She could not bear the uncertainty.
“Did you mean the bit about wanting to marry me and having a family?”
She rushed out the words on a single painful breath, keeping her head lowered, frightened of giving away her feelings if he laughed it off as a ploy to ruin her mother’s day.
He halted, swinging her around to face him, his arms drawing her into his embrace, his powerful thighs propping up her trembling legs, his hands pressing into the curve of her back, making her breasts push against the strong wall of his chest, forcing her to be acutely aware of the physical attraction she could not deny.
“Look at me, Sally!” he commanded.
Tears welled up in her eyes. It meant so much to her and she couldn’t hide it.
“Look at me!” he repeated with urgent intensity.
Jack didn’t care about the crowd of spectators jostling around them, seeking the best position to watch the race. He didn’t care whether his horse won or lost. Everything but Sally was totally meaningless to him—this once-beautiful girl, whose life with their father he’d resented, this now-beautiful and wonderful woman he counted as the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Slowly, slowly, she lifted her head. Moisture clung to her eyelashes. Her eyes were wet but she did not flinch from looking straight at him. Brave Sally, determined on knowing her fate with him. He’d admired her strong spirit all along, and her vulnerability right now smote his heart. He’d played this all wrong, letting her mother’s spite propel him into expressing what should have been said first to her.
He reached up and gently brushed the streak of tears from her cheeks. “I love you, Sally,” he said, finally acknowledging and speaking the truth of what he felt for her. “I wasn’t going to bring up marriage until after the World Cup. I was happy to ride along with what we have, let you achieve your showjumping ambition before putting other plans for the future to you.”
Her eyes widened into lovely green pools of wonder. “You…” Her throat moved convulsively. “You…love me?”
“To almost constant distraction,” he admitted a touch ruefully. “When I’m not with you, I’m looking forward to how it will be when I am. There’s no way I could ever let you go. You’re in my blood, in my mind, in my heart. When I said love and marriage weren’t on my agenda, I didn’t believe any woman could make me feel that life without her was unthinkable, but you—” he ran a featherlight finger over her trembling lips “—you’re the embodiment of dreams I gave up on a long time ago. In every sense.”
“Oh, Jack!” Her eyes shone with a starburst of happiness. “I love you, too. So much. So very much.”
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, her fervent passion instantly stirring a fierce wave of possessiveness—his woman, now and forever—and he kissed her back, revelling in the reality of having her, holding her, loving her and being loved by her.
The loud cheering of the Melbourne Cup crowd intruded on the sweet moment. “Your horse!” Sally gasped, her mouth breaking from his.