Lily's Leap Read Online Free Page A

in his saddle intent on learning the rhythm of his new mount. The famed Dungarven breeding was no myth; they were some of the best horses in the colony. Years of travelling with the survey parties would have been more efficient if they’d had horses like these instead of the broken down nags available to them. They could have covered the entire Liverpool Plains in a matter of months instead of the years it had taken.
    The all too familiar burn of indignation hit his chest; it was no easier to take today than twelve months ago. A toss-up between incarceration on Norfolk Island or the road wasn’t much of a choice–it hadn’t been a difficult decision. There were few who would recognize Bushranger Tom as Thomas Roscomon, leading light of the Surveyor General’s Department, renowned cartographer and explorer. His elder brother, who had sent him packing to the colonies with a paltry five hundred pounds and a flea in his ear, would have to look twice, too.
    He laughed at the thought and the gelding spooked. He tightened his grip on the reins, and slowed it to a walk. Five hundred pounds was a nice round figure… like Lily’s. He grinned. He hadn’t realized the significance before. He’d demanded from Dungarven exactly the same amount for the return of his daughter. Symbolic, and a small price to pay considering Dungarven’s property encompassed the very land he had been accused of claiming. Excessive spending. They didn’t know the half of it.
    “You sound as though you are enjoying your ride.”  
    Tom closed his eyes letting the dulcet feminine voice wash over him. Her melodious tones caused some place beneath his ribs to contract and brought to mind memories of a life long forgotten.
    “I am indeed. And coming to appreciate how lucky the British soldiers in India are if you are exporting horses like this to them. Shouldn’t we be keeping them? These horses belong in the colony.” He inhaled deeply. Yesterday’s scent of lavender and saddle soap had been washed somewhere down Narone Creek and now his nostrils filled with the fresh, clean aroma of eucalyptus and something vaguely flowery. He turned to face her. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the fresh morning air and her violet eyes flashed and shimmered, their brilliance enhanced by the strand of native lilac holding her rampant curls in check. His breath caught. Five hundred pounds was a paltry sum for such a gem. Her husband had been a lucky man, but luck always tended to be short-lived.
    “The flowers bring out the color in your eyes,” he said.
    “Why thank you, kind sir.” Her face lit up with a polite smile, and the flush on her cheeks deepened. Her words were exactly what he’d expect from a member of the colonial upper classes, or a pure merino as they were known.
    “It was a good choice. Did you know the vine is called the Happy Wanderer? It thrives in the bush, wherever it finds an open space.” He cast an admiring glance at the picture she made astride the huge black stallion.
    “I am happy. Who wouldn’t be on a day like today?” The fine cotton of her shirt pulled tight across her breasts as she lifted her arm to encompass the winding creek, lined by towering trees against the cobalt sky.
    His breath caught in his throat and a shiver of arousal traced his spine. If her father was truly more interested in his horses than his beautiful daughter he was insane. Maybe, just maybe, they could come to an alternative arrangement. He shook his head. His life was no life for a woman. “You’re a marvel of contradictions. You’re being held to ransom by a band of incorrigible fortune hunters. You have travelled over fifty miles on horseback in less than two days, slept on the ground and had nothing except bread and water and you’re happy?”
    Her smile blazed brighter than the morning sun as she kicked Nero into a canter. He could do nothing else except follow.
    The sun rose higher in the sky and the incline increased. The horses picked their