Free The Australian by Diana Palmer Page A

the way?”
    “Yes, I think so,” he responded. He drew her close, holding her in a warm embrace, his face against her hair. “I want to do this right. I don’t want to anticipate our wedding night, but there are other paths to fulfillment besides the obvious one, little innocent,” he whispered softly. “I’ll teach you some of them....”
    “John,” she moaned, clenching her teeth as the wanting became suddenly unbearable.
    “Soon, darling,” he assured her. He hugged her bruisingly close, and his mouth searched for hers. He kissed her hotly for a long time, and his face was ruddy with frustration when he finally drew away. His nostrils flared as he observed her bright eyes. “Wait for me,” he said curtly. “No more dates with the college boy.”
    “No more,” she promised. She smiled slowly. “No more dates for you, either.”
    “Fat chance,” he chuckled. “Every woman I see looks like you these days. Be good, love.”
    “You, too.”
    He winked and turned to walk away. She lifted a hand toward him, wanting to call out, wanting to say, I love you. But she didn’t. She watched his tall broad-shouldered back until he was out of sight. And then she went back to Margaret’s, torn between joy and grief. The waiting was going to be horrible. She didn’t know how she could survive it, now that he was going to be hers, at last.
    John. Her husband. The thought would sustain her, like water to a desert survivor. She imagined them together in bed, straining against each other in the darkness, loving each other with their bodies. She imagined them with children, John carrying a little boy on his shoulders and laughing. She imagined them being together in the evenings, sitting together while he worked on the books and she graded papers. The dreams were beautiful. And the memories of how it had been between them physically were as satisfying as the dreams.

Chapter Five
    Priss couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d been so happy. The hidden photograph in her wallet came out of hiding. She showed it to Ronald—to all her friends—with such radiant love and pride that she glowed like a new penny. John was hers at last. Hers!
    She rushed downtown to an exclusive department store, where Margaret had an account, and searched for hours until she found just the wedding gown she wanted. It was a dream of a gown, with a keyhole neckline and yards of lace and satin and a floor-length veil. She sighed over it as the saleslady smilingly put it away in a box. Priss could just see how she’d look walking down the aisle to John in it.
    She came back to Margaret’s house with stars in her eyes. “You don’t mind that I used your card, do you?” Priss asked belatedly when Aunt Margaret seemed hesitant.
    “No, darling, of course not,” Margaret said gently. “It’s just that...well, don’t you think it might be better to wait a bit on the gown? Just until you and John set a definite date?”
    Priss felt a tension in the air. She studied the older woman quietly, intently. “Aunt Margaret, you don’t think he’ll back out?”
    Margaret looked hunted. She sat on the edge of her elegant Chippendale chair with her dainty hands clenched in her lap, her eyes troubled. “Darling, it’s been well over a week since John left.”
    Priss laughed, relieved. “Oh, you mean he hasn’t called! I didn’t really expect him to, you know. He said he had some things to iron out back home. Selling cattle again, I’ll bet; you know how he likes those sales!”
    But the older woman didn’t laugh. She didn’t want to tell Priss what she’d heard when she talked to Renée the previous night. That John had vanished from sight the past few days, and that no one had seen or heard from him. Perhaps it was nothing, but Priss was so caught up in the excitement of the hurried engagement that Margaret was worried. If anything went wrong...
    “It’s just not good to tempt fate,” Margaret said finally. “You’re so