In the Land of the Long White Cloud

dancers included the servants of the more genteel guests, who either hardly knew Gwyneira or didn’t know her at all. Lady Barrington’s English maid looked over disapprovingly as Kiward Station’s staff greeted Gwyneira with hoots and hollers. James held his hand out to lead her into the dancing area. Gwyneira took it, once again feeling that soft shock that sent waves of arousal through her. It always seemed to happen when she touched James. He laughed, catching her as she stumbled a bit. Then he bowed to her—but that was all this dance had in common with a waltz, which she had been dancing all night.
    “She is handsome, she is pretty, she is the queen of Belfast City!” Poker and a few other men sang the melody happily while James spun Gwyneira around so many times she felt dizzy. And every time she flew back into his arms after being energetically spun, she saw that glint in his eye, the admiration, and…well, what? Desire?
    In the middle of the dance, the rocket heralding the new year soared into the sky—and then the whole glorious fireworks display fired off. The men around Andy McAran broke off the jig and Poker started “Auld Lang Syne.” All the other immigrants joined in, and the Maori hummed along, enthusiastically if not entirely in tune. Only James and Gwyneira had neither ears for the song nor eyes for the fireworks. Though the music had stopped, they still held each other’s hands, now frozen in midair. Neither wanted to let the other go. They seemed to be standing on an island, far from the tears and laughter. There was only him. There was only her.
    Finally Gwyneira pulled herself free. She did not want to break up the moment, but she knew that their feelings could not be consummated here.
    “We should…check on the horses,” she said without inflection.
    James took her hand on the way to the stables.
    Just before the entrance he stopped her. “Look, miss,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen such a thing. Like it’s raining stars!”
    Lucas’s fireworks made for a spectacular effect. But Gwyneira saw only the stars in James’s eyes. What she was doing was stupid, forbidden, and entirely improper. But she leaned on his shoulder nevertheless.
    James tenderly brushed away the hair that had fallen into her face during their wild dance. His fingers wandered light as a feather over her cheeks and along her lips.
    Gwyneira made a decision. It was New Year’s. So you could kiss someone. She raised herself carefully on tiptoe and kissed James on the cheek.
    “Happy New Year, Mr. McKenzie,” she said softly.
    McKenzie drew her into his arms, very slowly, very softly—Gwyneira could have freed herself at any time, but she didn’t. Not even when his lips found hers. Gwyneira instinctively and passionately opened herself up to the kiss. She felt like she was coming home—a home where a world of wonder and surprise awaited her.
    It was as though a spell had been cast on her when he finally let go.
    “And a happy New Year to you, Gwyneira,” said James.

    The guests’ reactions at the party, not least of all Gerald’s breakdown, confirmed Gwyneira’s decision to effect a pregnancy with or without Lucas’s assistance. It had nothing to do with James and their kiss at midnight, of course—that had been a mistake, and the next day Gwyneira didn’t even know herself what had come over her. Fortunately, James McKenzie behaved just as he always had.
    She would see to the business of getting pregnant without interference from her emotions. It was just like breeding, after all. At thisthought, she suppressed an absurd, hysterical giggle. Being absurd was not appropriate. The situation called for sober consideration of who would make a good candidate for the father of the child. This was in part a matter of discretion, but above all, one of inheritance. The Wardens, Gerald especially, could not be allowed to entertain any doubts that their heir was of their blood. As for Lucas, that was a bit more complicated, but if he was sensible, he would hold his peace. Gwyneira was not too worried. Her husband was overly cautious, stiff, and not very good under pressure, true, but he had never proved irrational. Besides, it was in his own best interest that the innuendo and teasing by others at his and her expense be stopped.
    Gwyneira began to seriously consider what her and Lucas’s child might look like. Her mother and all her sisters were redheads, so that seemed to be hereditary. Lucas was