Читать книгу Her Cattleman Boss - Barbara Hannay - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

FROM habit Noah woke just before dawn.

He’d slept soundly, which was a surprise, as he’d been troubled by bad dreams ever since he’d found Angus slumped at his desk, ashen- faced and unconscious.

Now, grey dawn light seeped into his bedroom. Familiar details of the room came to life: the timber-framed window, the roll-top desk in the corner, the faded photo of his parents, the old pine chest of drawers…

Then he remembered.

He was going to lose all of this. He was going to lose his home. Lose Radnor.

He sat up quickly, fighting hot panic—caused not by a nightmare this time but by sickening reality.

With a groan, he threw his bedclothes aside, strode naked to the window and looked out at the flat, treeless landscape spreading endlessly, as far as the eye could see.

A terrible sense of loss flooded him. He was twenty-nine years old and he’d been born here. Not counting the years he’d spent at boarding school, this was the only home he’d ever known. He’d travelled, of course. He’d covered most of Australia and he’d seen prettier places—grander landscapes…richer country…

But a soul-deep love of these sparse, flat plains flowed in his veins. This country might be subject to drought, but its strength lay in its ability to rejuvenate. The rain would come eventually, and tenacity to weather the drought was part of the strength of the people who lived here.

Noah had that strength, that patience. And Angus had known it, damn it. But the old fox had tied up his will so that half of this property went to an English girl who’d been here once, almost a decade ago, for a brief holiday.

Noah jerked his gaze from the view and went through to his small adjoining bathroom.

Any normal guy would harbour resentment, he told himself as he palmed lather onto his jaw. He should be thinking about Kate Brodie with animosity and bitterness.

Not with hot-blooded lust.

He shouldn’t be remembering the last time she’d been here, the way he’d kissed her, and the way she’d responded. Hell, if he hadn’t had Angus’s warning ringing in his head, who knew what might have happened back then?

Angus had started bellowing orders even before Kate had arrived. At the time, it had nearly killed Noah to ignore Kate. He’d been completely smitten by her flashing green eyes, perfect skin and all that shiny red-gold hair. And her smile.

He’d broken down once and given into his need to taste Kate’s smiling lips, to touch her soft, warm, milk-white skin.

One kiss, despite Angus Harrington’s warning…

‘Hands off her, do you hear me? If you lay so much as a finger on my sister’s daughter, I’ll never forgive you, son.’

Son. For as long as Noah could remember, Angus had called him that. He’d been four at the time of his parents’ accident, and could barely remember them. His only memory was based on the photo on his dresser. His father, long-legged and dark, and no doubt smelling of dust and cigarettes, was leaning against the stock rails and grinning at his mother. She had a soft, heart-shaped face and pretty, pale-brown hair. Like Olivia’s.

Olivia. Noah grimaced and picked up the razor. He couldn’t afford to think about Olivia now, on top of everything else. Losing her, losing Radnor. Hell, any minute he’d start bawling.

He began to scrape with the razor, making dark tracks over his jaw through the white foam. But his thoughts winged straight back to Kate Brodie.

She’d changed a great deal. Matured was the word to use, he supposed. She had grown quieter. More serious.

Even more attractive and womanly.

Last night on the way home from Jindabilla she’d slept, which should have been fine. Noah had been grateful that she hadn’t wanted to carry on about Angus’s will. But she’d been so sleepy she’d ended up with her head on his shoulder, which meant he’d driven all those miles with the fragrance of her freshly shampooed hair filling his nostrils, with the warm pressure of her soft cheek against his shoulder, and the gentle hush of her breath on his neck.

And, when they’d reached the homestead, Kate had been so out of it that he’d had to help her inside. She’d leaned sleepily against him as they’d negotiated the stairs, with his arm about her slender waist, and he’d been super-conscious of her curves above and below.

Once Kate had changed and was ready for bed, he’d taken her hot cocoa, just as he might have done for Olivia.

Big mistake. Huge. How could he have been such an idiot? He’d found Kate in bed in a silky nightdress of skimpy cream silk with lace trims and thin straps, hair sleep-tumbled, eyelashes drooping. She’d blushed profusely and muttered apologies as she accepted the cocoa.

Remembering how she’d looked made him…

Damn. He nicked his jaw.

It was too long since he’d been with a woman.

But Kate Brodie was not the solution to that particular problem, Noah decided as he jutted his jaw and dabbed at the nick with the corner of a towel.

Why on earth had Alan Davidson let fly yesterday with that crazy comment about a marriage of convenience? He must have known that Noah couldn’t contemplate any kind of marriage after the messy divorce he’d just been through. Hell. Maybe Alan had been running every option through his bloody legal brain—but did he have to voice the crazy ones?

As for Kate’s suggestion that they form a business partnership, she’d been talking off the top of her head without really thinking it through. Very soon she’d come to her senses and realise that the last thing she wanted was to have her life tied up in a cattle station on the other side of the world.

The sooner she went back to England, the better.

He’d work out a way to solve his own problems, without getting tangled up with Angus’s niece. She’d been trouble enough last time she’d come to Radnor.

Kate tossed and turned. She’d been awake for what felt like ages, her body clock disoriented and her mind churning over the events of yesterday. The questions buzzed in her head like maddened flies. Why had Angus Harrington made such an unexpected bequest? What did he want from her? What was he hoping?

It was such an astonishing legacy. Bewildering.

She found herself wondering if Alan Davidson had been right when he’d suggested that Angus had left her half of Radnor to protect his property from Noah’s divorced wife. And, if that was so, what had he hoped Kate would do about it now?

Could he possibly expect her to live here, to run Radnor with Noah?

Poor Angus. He wouldn’t have made such a mistake if he’d known their history. If only she’d had the courage to confide in her uncle. Over the years, she’d sent him letters, but she’d only ever told Angus about her fascination for Australia, for his cattle property and his lifestyle. Not a word about Noah.

If Angus Harrington had known how silly she’d been, he might not have pushed them into this awkward partnership.

Wincing as her mind came back to this dead end for the hundredth time, Kate leapt out of bed. She checked her mobile, but there were no messages.

It would be early evening in England. She tried phoning her mother, but she was out, so she left a message that she’d arrived safely and all was well. Kate didn’t mention her surprise inheritance. She needed to speak to her mother in person about that. She dialled again and got through to Derek’s mobile.

She kept her voice low so that she didn’t wake Noah. ‘Hi there, Derek, it’s Kate.’

‘Oh, really? Where are you?’

‘In Australia.’ What a strange question. Where else would she be? She wished Derek didn’t sound so put out. ‘I just wanted to let you know I made it here safely.’

‘Sorry. Can you speak up?’

She could hear laughter and music in the background.

‘How long do you think you’ll be in Australia?’ Derek asked, raising his voice to reach her over the noise.

Wishing she’d gone outside to make this call, Kate spoke as loudly as she dared. ‘I’m still not sure. Not very long, I guess, but there have been complications.’

It would be good to tell Derek about her inheritance. His experience in the banking world could be helpful, and he’d be sure to offer great advice about business partnerships. But if Derek was at a party…

‘Can I hear people speaking in German?’ she asked.

‘What? Oh, can you hear that? Yes, there’s a table of Germans close by.’

‘Are you down at the pub?’

This was met by a marked hesitation on the other end of the line, more than the normal time lapse on an international call. ‘No.’ Derek sounded uneasy. ‘I’m in—eh—Birmingham. It’s a business thing—I’m with clients.’

It was a clear dismissal. Derek was busy and didn’t want to chat, and Kate tried hard not to mind. ‘I’d better not keep you, then.’

They said goodbye and she disconnected, and knew she was silly to feel dissatisfied. If Derek was busy with clients she could hardly expect a romantic chat. Anyway, sweet talk had never been his style.

Just the same…

She sighed. Perhaps Derek was stressed. He often got stressed about his job, and it was probably tension rather than impatience that she’d heard in his voice. A yawn escaped her, and she realised she hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. But there was no point in going back to bed. Noah would be up and about soon. What she needed was a shower to freshen her up.

She was sorting through her things, trying to choose suitable clothes for a hot, sticky day in the Outback, when footsteps sounded on the veranda outside her room and then there was a knock at the French doors. Kate opened them a chink.

‘Morning, Kate.’

Noah’s dark hair was damp, his rugged jaw clean and smooth as if he’d just shaved, and there was a nick just below his ear. Kate could smell the tang of his aftershave, and she had to clutch the door frame for support when he gave her a slow smile.

‘Is it too early for you for breakfast?’ he asked.

‘Not at all.’ She was annoyed by how suddenly breathless she sounded. ‘I can be ready in a jiffy. I’ll come and help you.’

He shrugged. ‘No need to rush. But you didn’t eat last night, so I’m thinking you’ll need the works—a full cooked breakfast.’

She was smiling through her quick shower, and while she changed into linen shorts and a T-shirt and then hurried down the hallway.

Divine smells were coming from the kitchen. More disturbingly divine was the sight of Noah at the stove. Oh, help. A woman was not supposed to finish a phone call with her boyfriend and immediately go weak at the knees at the sight of another man.

How was it possible that Noah could look so super-attractive standing at a kitchen stove, turning sausages? Maybe she was still affected by jet lag. Or the heat. Or maybe it was something to do with the clothes these Outback guys wore—Noah’s low-slung jeans and rumpled cotton shirt.

Heavens. What was wrong with her? How could she be so fickle? Hastily, she tried to substitute Derek into this scene—Derek wearing those battered jeans and nonchalantly flipping sausages and eggs at half-past six in the morning.