TWELVE
Twelve
True to his word, Damian was back at the front of the shop an hour later, carrying an extra helmet. Unclipping it from where he’d secured it around his arm, he swung his leg off the bike and walked towards her. ‘I saw this in a shop up the road yesterday. I’m hoping it fits. Otherwise, I can go to Armidale and see if I can get one.’
‘I didn’t even think about a helmet,’ she said, staring as he passed it over to her. In her defence, she’d never ridden a bike before. At least she’d worn jeans today. She pulled her hair back and clumsily tugged the bulky helmet over her head, tilting her chin up when he asked her to, then feeling the breath lock in her chest as he stepped in closer to secure the strap. The moment was gone after he lifted his hands and placed them on her helmeted head, tugging rather unromantically to make sure it didn’t slip around too much. ‘Couldn’t have done better if I’d known your size,’ he said. ‘I also have this—it’s an old one of mine I keep in the saddlebag.’ He pulled out a black jacket from a compartment-type bag attached to the side of his bike.
Lottie shrugged into it and attempted to zip up the front, finding it quite difficult to do with a heavy helmet weighing on her head.
‘It’s not perfect, but it’ll do,’ he said, moving her hands aside and taking over to do the zip up to almost under her chin. ‘You ready?’
To feel like the Michelin Man? Then yep, she was ready. ‘What do I do?’
He got back on the bike and started it, then held his arm out to her. ‘Climb up onto the back,’ he said, raising his voice over the motor.
Lottie tilted her head down to try to find the foot pegs he’d swung out for her and gingerly took hold of his arm to climb on behind him. He turned his head back as far as he could. ‘Lean when I lean. Just follow what I do and you’ll be right. Hold on,’ he called.
She quickly grabbed hold of his waist, bunching up his jacket beneath her hands. Taking off was terrifying yet exhilarating, and she had no time to process either sensation before they were heading out of town, the wind loud inside her helmet and the roar of the bike powerful beneath the seat.
Lottie had never felt so … free . With nothing around her, the road and the other vehicles around her were frighteningly close, making her feel incredibly vulnerable … and yet completely uninhibited. This was how she imagined flying would feel—the noise and the wind rushing around her body. Tucked behind Damian’s big body, his warmth somehow penetrating through the layers of protective wear and into her own, she felt safe. Protected.
The paddocks beside the highway flashed past, and she kept her eyes on the scenery and not the giddying sensation of watching the bitumen pass beneath them. She had an unsettling moment as she realised that if she fell off this thing, it would be very bad—protective gear or not—before she quickly banished the thought and found herself staring at the back of Damian’s neck. She could see the tiny hairs on his neck, trimmed in a short cut, that worked their way up to the base of his head. His skin was tanned, exposed to the sun whenever he was out and about on his bike, she supposed. She had the insane urge to lift her hand up and touch it, but self-preservation thankfully held her hands firmly buried in the fabric of his jacket.
Eventually, she heard the bike slow down and she looked up to find they were approaching the turn-off to the road that would take them out to Frolesworthy. This road was narrower and it wound its way between endless sheep paddocks with large boulders and scattered outcrops of rocks until it reached a small intersection with an old white signpost that pointed towards Frolesworthy Hall.
Over the years, the hall had been owned by a few families, but the upkeep of such a large house and its surrounding buildings was expensive. Neglect led to decay. Eventually, a new home was built on the property and the old hall abandoned. The property owners continued to raise beef cattle, but the parcel of land the hall stood on was left open to the public.
As they reached the entrance to the long driveway, Damian slowed down and they made their way along the potholed track.
The two-storey building would have been an impressive sight in its heyday. Lottie had seen the photos in the museum and was sad the house had been left to slowly decay. Today, only the outer frame of the Edwardian mansion still stood. The sandstone bricks formed a bland rectangular shape, with a curved tower-like structure at the front. A bushfire that had ripped through the area fifteen years earlier had burned away all that had remained of the timber verandah and balustrades that had once surrounded the house on both floors that she remembered seeing years earlier. It reminded Lottie now, of a tired, grand old dame, just marking time at the end of a long and colourful life. There were a number of other buildings in similar disrepair further away—the remains of large chimney stacks and the mill that had been used in the gold mine from which Alexander had made his fortune.
Damian turned off the engine and for a moment, they both simply sat and took in the building. It was quiet except for the tick of the hot engine and the calls of the birds who sang out from the tops of the handful of tall trees surrounding the house and its overgrown garden and outbuildings. The wind whispered through the foliage, but there were no sounds of modern-day life—no traffic or tractors working in the distance. If you ignored the fact they were sitting on a motorbike, they could have almost stepped back into the late 1800s.
The creak of Damian’s leather jacket as he moved his arm to help her dismount broke the stillness. After spending so long with her arms wrapped around his waist, feeling the heat of his body on hers, it felt strange to suddenly no longer have it. She breathed in the heady scent of leather and an earthy, masculine scent he was wearing that shot through to parts of her that had become extremely sensitive after spending the last half-hour on the back of a bike.
‘It would have been amazing to see it in its prime,’ he said, sounding wistful as he hung his helmet on the handlebars and reached to take hers. Their fingertips touched and for a moment, Lottie found she couldn’t look away. Her heart gave a small out-of-kilter beat and she swallowed quickly, dragging her gaze from his as she realised her breathing felt heavier.
‘It’s such a shame it wasn’t saved,’ she said, forcing herself to look at their surroundings.
‘It’s a crime, really. The stories this place could tell.’ He took out a large camera from a black bag on the rear of the bike, holding it easily in one big hand.
They walked inside, where only the stone walls and the tiled floor remained, as well as a few of the inner walls that divided the rooms downstairs. Lottie was saddened to see the traces of graffiti on the walls. The grand staircase leading to the floors above had also been lost in the bushfire, so there was no longer any way of reaching the second storey to see the view. There was nothing for miles around , she thought, remembering standing all those years ago on the top verandah and seeing the flat, open land encompassing the old house. She stepped aside to allow Damian to walk past and his body brushed against hers. Familiar heat again disturbed her sleeping senses, waking them up as if from a long slumber. His fingertips gently grazed her hand, making her skin tingle with awareness.
They headed out the back of the building to what would once have been a kitchen garden and orchard, but now was just barren dirt. Only part of the original wall of the garden was still intact.
Damian clicked photos as they moved through the grounds, and they ended up following an old road of cobblestones that had been laid long ago and were still visible.
They decided to take a closer look at the stone buildings scattered around the main house, spaces that once would have been stables, a blacksmith shop and supply store rooms to support the gold-mine workers and their families. This place had once been almost its own little town when Alexander built his gold mine—albeit a short-lived one.
Lottie watched as Damian crouched and adjusted his camera lens to take a photo of something he found on the ground. The black T-shirt he wore stretched across his wide shoulders and lovingly wrapped around his torso. The denim of his jeans encased muscular thighs, and the memory of her own sitting extremely close behind them made her skin tingle. He stood up slowly and turned, catching her looking at him, and she swallowed nervously, trying not to look like he’d just caught her lustfully recalling how tightly their bodies fitted together.
She feared the blasé expression she was trying for had come off as more of an uncomfortable wince, and she quickly looked away.
Damian slowly lifted his camera and clicked off a few more shots of the crumbling outbuildings then lined up Lottie through his lens as she strolled ahead through the ruins, trailing her fingertips along the warm rocks of a nearby wall. He wondered if she was imagining how life would have once been here, like he was doing. She wore a faraway look, her eyes lowered and her lips slightly parted in a not-quite smile—something more like wonderment, or contemplation, maybe. He took a few more photos as a growing desire to touch her again began to build inside him.
She’d felt so good behind him on the bike. He could still feel her warmth against his back and remembered how his hand had itched to run across her thigh so tightly pressed against his. He rarely took anyone on his bike, and he’d forgotten how intimate it was. He’d never wanted to take anyone on his bike before—now, he couldn’t wait to do it again with her.
The late afternoon sun steamed through a gap in the rock wall behind her, framing her in golden light, and he snapped one more photo—unable to resist—before lowering the camera just as she glanced up and his heart did a weird flip inside his chest.
He didn’t know what was going on … but he knew he was in trouble.
This place feels so melancholy , Lottie thought. Maybe it was just her, knowing how hard Alexander had worked to build all this for his bride, only for her to never have seen it. The life he’d dreamed of creating, the children he’d most likely envisioned, the generations of Comptons he’d hoped to fill this house with … none of it had ever happened. Had it been worth giving up his life in England to get so close to having his dream, only for it to slip through his fingers at the end?
As they walked side by side, lost in thought, Lottie stumbled over a loose cobblestone. Before she could even gasp, she found herself pitching heavily forward into a freefall, and her heart leaped to her throat as her body braced for impact. In that instant, a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around her body, warm and firm. Her fall halted and she was gently drawn upright and set back on her feet. Her heart now began to thud painfully as she turned slightly and found her face close to Damian’s.
His lips felt warm against her own as he tentatively touched them in a gentle kiss, and a bolt of desire shot through her entire body. Lottie felt her lips part beneath his, and he kissed her more deeply. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there; time seemed to have almost stopped. She’d been kissed before—she was a grown woman for goodness’ sake, and hardly a nun—but this … This was like nothing she’d ever felt before.
When they eventually pulled apart, they were both breathing heavily. Lottie could only stare dumbstruck into his gorgeous chocolate-coloured eyes as she fought to catch her breath. He seemed equally surprised, if his silence was anything to go by, and the knowledge made Lottie feel somewhat better. It’s not just me, then.
‘Wow,’ he finally said.
It hadn’t been the reaction she’d been expecting from a guy who made his living out of words.
‘Yeah,’ she agreed. She shifted a little, stepping back as he dropped his hands from where they’d still been holding her moments before.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘Well, I mean … I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that before,’ she said, finding herself stammering slightly.
‘I … uh, meant your ankle. You lost your balance …’
Idiot! ‘Oh, yeah. I’m fine.’ She gave an awkward cough. ‘Thanks.’ Just kill me now .
‘But I completely agree. That was some kiss.’
Lottie squirmed under his amused gaze before clearing her throat. ‘Well, it’s getting a bit late and the kangaroos will come out soon. We probably don’t want to be riding back into town when they do.’
‘Good point. I just want to get a few more photos. I’ll be quick.’
Once he’d walked away, she allowed herself to breathe deeply once more. She’d been wondering what it would be like to kiss him since they’d met. Now she knew.
But what did they do now? He was only here until the festival. Was starting something with someone who lived so far away something she really wanted to do? Maybe he wasn’t interested in anything long term anyway. Was she okay with that? She couldn’t say she’d ever had a proper relationship before—not a live-in one, anyway—but the men she had dated and liked had lasted for a few months at least. This was all new territory. Was it all just an impulse from one of Cher’s bucket lists? Sleep with a hot biker: tick . The idea of a casual affair with Damian didn’t really sit right somehow. What would happen if she couldn’t do casual?
What if she wanted more?
The ride back into town seemed to take longer than the ride out, maybe because there was a new awkwardness hanging over them. It wasn’t even really awkward—more like neither of them seemed to know what to do now that it had happened. She wondered if he was regretting it. Maybe he was worried she would want something more than he was willing to offer?
And what did she want? To be honest, she was still in shock that it had happened—and so naturally. But what if she’d been reading him all wrong and now he couldn’t wait to get rid of her?
Damian pulled up in front of her house and reached an arm out to help her dismount. Lottie struggled with her helmet, finally pulling her head free and quickly running her fingers through the tangle of hair left in its wake. Real classy.
She fumbled with the helmet as she attempted to hand it to him, but he shook his head. ‘You keep it with you … for next time. If you want to ride again after today?’ he tacked on, eyeing her closely.
‘I’d like to,’ she said honestly. ‘It was fun.’ She’d never imagined how exhilarating it would be. Why hadn’t she found this sooner? Clearly, she hadn’t been hanging around the right kind of people—namely, someone with a motorbike.
He seemed relieved by her answer. ‘Good. Then you keep the helmet and the jacket. For next time.’
‘Okay. For next time,’ she said almost shyly. ‘Thank you for today.’
‘Thanks for playing hooky and coming out with me. Good thing you have such an understanding boss.’
Lottie grinned a little at that. ‘She’s good that way. Well, I better get going.’
‘Yeah. Me too. I’ll see you later,’ he said sliding his helmet on effortlessly.
She stepped back as he started the engine, watching as he pulled away before heading inside. The idea of ruining whatever it was they might be discovering felt like a lot less of a big deal now.