Читать книгу Required: Three Outback Brides: Cattle Rancher, Convenient Wife / In the Heart of the Outback... / Single Dad, Outback Wife - Margaret Way - Страница 8

JAY paused for a minute to catch his breath. His arms were aching from thrashing through the lignum swamp. His khaki bush shirt was soaked with sweat, his jeans soaked with a green slime and swamp water up to the knees. He and a couple of the men had been hunting up a massive wild boar as big as a calf that kept threatening the herd. They had chased it into the deepest reaches of the swamp where a man on his own would find it very easy to get lost. The swamp was home to countless water birds and pelicans, but was spell-bound to the aborigines who shivering in fear, refused to go into it. Jay didn’t altogether blame them. An unearthly yellow glow emanated from the place, seeping into the air. Rory, of course, afraid of nothing always said it was a sulphur spring. Whatever the eerie glow was, it was almost impossible to get into the swamp’s deepest recesses without a machete. A good enough reason for the boar to make its home in the dense thickets, out of the path of danger where it could wallow to its heart’s content in the mud.

It had made one last stand, its ugly head lowered for a final charge. It glared at them with its little reddened eyes, a ferocious looking animal, its coarse black bristles caked in mud and slime. Two powerful yellowish tusks protruded from its lower jaw, curving upwards in half circles. Sharp tusks that could easily disembowel a man or gore him to death. Spear carrying aborigines on the plain, would have charged the beast and killed it, a manoeuvre so dangerous it made Jay shudder just to think of it, though he knew boar hunting had been considered an exciting sport for hundreds of years. Jay got off a single clean shot to the boar’s heart. Its bulk quivered for a moment on its short powerful legs, then it rolled over with a loud squelching sound into the foul smelling mud.

That exploit had taken them far afield and it was a long ride back before Jay reached the home compound.

He had truly believed he fully appreciated just how much hard yakka Rory put in, day in and day out—how much responsibility he assumed without saying a word. Rory had a natural affinity with animals; all sorts of animals from the wildest rogue brumby hell-bent on freedom to the most docile calf. Rory wouldn’t have spent the best part of the afternoon tracking down that boar. He could read the signs as clearly as any aboriginal. Rory had only been gone a month and already he was sorely missed by all.

Jay missed him terribly. First as a brother and his best friend: then as a buffer between him and their father and thirdly as the cattleman, the Boss-man, who ran Turrawin. Rory was the Compton every last station employee deferred to and took orders from without complaint. Rory was a natural born leader. Such men didn’t come along every day. Their father, Bernard, Jay had long since recognised, had little going for him these days but bluster and a whiplash tongue. With Rory gone there was animosity where there had never been before. Not only that, it was on the rise among the station staff. Not towards him personally—he got on well enough with everyone—but the whole situation. Not content with ordering Rory off the station, their father had let it be known Rory wasn’t coming back. Further more Rory had been disinherited.

What that had achieved was nigh on catastrophic. It had bonded everyone against his father. While the men had greatly admired and respected Rory, working happily in the saddle for him from dawn to dusk, they were becoming discontented and occasionally rebellious under him. Okay they liked him—they even felt sorry for him having the father he did—but they didn’t look to him as the boss.

He wasn’t a cattleman, though God knows he’d struggled to become one. The trouble was his heart wasn’t in it and he wasn’t half tough enough. He wasn’t much good at giving orders, either, or even knowing what best to do in difficult situations when Rory, the man of action, had always come up with a solution right off the top of his head. Jay’s only gift was fixing things, especially machinery. Rory had constantly reassured him that was a considerable gift. He could take any piece of faulty station machinery apart and put it together again in fine working order. Just like he had once longed to put the damaged human body back together.

He was thirty years of age, two years Rory’s senior, but he still longed for the beautiful woman who had been his mother. She had understood him but she had never been strong enough to withstand their father. She was scared of him the same way Jay had been scared of him. The only one who wasn’t scared was Rory. But even Rory had been known to flinch away from their father’s vicious tongue.

Now that Rory was gone their father took it out on him.

He returned to the homestead at dusk, cursing the fact, as he did every day, his father was such a severe man who these days possessed not even a chink of lightness of soul. Bernard Compton had become damned impossible. When Jay entered the kitchen through the back door prior to taking a shower in the adjacent mudroom, he found his father slouched over the huge pine table, a whiskey bottle near his hand. Jay never remembered his father drinking so much but these past weeks he’d been getting into it as if alcohol took his mind off his troubles and what was already going wrong on the station. It was his grandfather and the Compton men before him to whom they owed the success of Turrawin. Then Rory. The necessary skills and attributes had skipped a generation. Oddly enough, his father, like him, was excellent with machinery but he took little pride in Jay’s inherited ability. In fact he went out of his way to deride it.

‘That’s all you’re bloody good for, son. Tinkering about!’

His tinkering had saved the station a lot of money.

Bernard Compton looked up as Jay entered the room. There was no welcoming smile on his heavy handsome face but a scowl. His once brilliant dark eyes were badly bloodshot. ‘There’s a couple of postcards from your brother,’ he said, taking a gulp of his drink.

‘You’ve read them?’ Jay moved towards the table, feeling a rush of pleasure and relief at hearing from Rory again.

‘Why not? They’re bloody postcards aren’t they?’

‘They’re addressed to me,’ Jay pointed out quietly, picking them up. ‘You shouldn’t have sent Rory away, Dad. We can’t do without him.’

‘I’mnot asking him to come back, if that’s what you think.’ Bernard Compton’s face was set grimly. ‘I don’t get down on my knees to anyone least of all my own son. No respect, Rory. No respect at all. Looking at me with his mother’s eyes.’

‘Mum’s beautiful eyes,’ Jay said, his glance devouring what was written on the two postcards, each from different Outback towns. ‘He’s at a place called Jimboorie. Or he was.’

‘I can read,’ Bernard said roughly, staring up at his son. Jay was a handsome big fellow, strong and clever, but for God knows what reason glaringly inadequate when it came to running the station. ‘So what do you want me to do about it?’

‘Beg Rory to come home, Dad,’ Jay answered promptly. ‘The men look to Rory, not me.’ Not to you, either, hung heavily in the air.

‘He made his bed now he’s got to lie in it,’ Bernard Compton said. ‘What we need is an overseer given you’re so hopeless.’

‘You’re not much better,’ Jay retorted, almost beyond caring what his father thought. ‘Why didn’t I have the guts to do what I always wanted to do?’

‘Become a doctor?’ Bernard snorted, and threw back the whiskey.

‘I’d have been a good doctor,’ Jay said in his quiet way. ‘It’s in my genes. I should have pushed for it.’

His father hooted. ‘You’ve never pushed for anything in your life.’

Not with a father I hated and feared. ‘Maybe there’s still time to make plans,’ Jay said. ‘Rory told me there was.’

‘That’s because he wants Turrawin.’ His father told him with a savage laugh. ‘There’s no end to your gullibility, son. Rory wants Turrawin,’ Bernard repeated.

‘Well, I don’t want it, Dad,’ Jay replied, his unhappiness growing more unbearable every day.

‘Why, you gutless wonder! I’m ashamed of you, Jay,’ Bernard Compton thundered, striking the table with his large fist.

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Jay asked in a weary voice. ‘You’ve bludgeoned me over the head with it for years, Dad. But my inadequacies are modest compared to yours. All you’re good for is letting loose with the venom.’

‘Why you—!’ Bernard Compton, his face flushed a dark red, started to rise, but Jay, a powerful young man, shoved him back down on his chair. ‘When I was a kid I used to find you very frightening. Mum did, too. But no more. I pity you from the bottom of my heart. You’re a hollow man. Rory should have Turrawin. I’m the one who has to give up on this life I was never meant to lead.’

‘What are you saying?’ Bernard Compton’s bloodshot eyes were filled with shock and disbelief.

‘You heard me. Rory should have Turrawin otherwise this historic station will go steadily downhill. Only Rory can save it.’

‘Over my dead body,’ Bernard Compton exploded, glaring at his son.

‘Why do you hate him so much?’ Jay marvelled. ‘He’s your son, isn’t he? Is there some bloody thing we don’t know? Is that why Mum left? What’s the goddamn mystery?’

Bernard Compton gave an awful grunt, clutching the whiskey bottle and pouring himself another double shot. ‘Of course Rory is my son, you idiot. And I don’t hate him. I bloody well admire him like I admired my old man. But there has to be a lot of space between us. I don’t want him on my territory.’

‘You’re afraid of him aren’t you? He’s everything you wanted to be. Grandad loved him so much. He loved me, but I always knew Rory was the favourite.’

‘That old bastard!’ Bernard swore blearily. ‘He certainly didn’t love me. He always made me feel a fool.’

‘Then I’m sorry, but it was never his intention. Grandad was a really good man. I’ll stay with you, Dad, until we get a competent overseer in place. I thought we could bring Ted Warren in from Mariji. He’s more competent than I am to handle things. Then I’m going to get a new life. Up until now I’ve always had the weird feeling I’m on hold with nothing to hope for. That has to change. But first, I’m going to find my brother.’

Allegra stood on the front verandah watching life giving rain pour down over the burdened eaves in silver curtains so heavy it was impossible to see out into the home gardens. It was well over a week now since Rory Compton had made the two-hour journey from Jimboorie township to Narooma with his offer; an offer Valerie and Chloe had near jumped at. She on the other hand had made it abundantly clear it wasn’t enough, although she pretty well believed him when he said it was the best he could do. He didn’t seem the man to try to beat them down. Clay Cunningham didn’t think so, either. She’d already had a conversation with Clay, a man she trusted, who had revealed a little more about Rory Compton’s situation. It was true his brother, Jay was to inherit historic Turrawin. True by all accounts—word in the far flung Outback flew around with astonishing speed—Bernard Compton had disinherited his younger son.

Rory Compton was no longer part of a wealthy family of pioneering cattle barons. Times for Rory had changed. He was out on his own albeit with the wherewithal to purchase a smallish run. Nothing that could possibly match what he had come from, but a property a man with his talents could build on and make prosper. Allegra was sure of it.

Rory Compton was a man of substance at twenty-eight. No great age. Her father would have judged him square in the mould of builder-expander. A man who exuded all the drive, ambition, know-how and ideas to turn middle of the road Naroom into a financial success. After that, she supposed, he would move on to bigger and better things. His offer had been basically, their reserve $3.5 million. She was sticking out for $4 million knowing despite depreciation and a big drop in stock numbers, Naroom was worth that. Or were her emotions too heavily involved? Naroom was her home.

The magic of the place! Yet she seemed to be the only one now her dad was gone to feel it. Anyway as far as borrowing went Rory Compton still had his name. A name to be reckoned with. His bank had approved his loan in what seemed to her record time. Her gut feeling was the bank could go $500,000 more.

No surprises a huge family fight had developed. Her on one side: Valerie and Chloe on the other. If she had ever thought and hoped there was some love between her and her half-sister she soon found out when the chips were down, there wasn’t. Even thinking about the things Valerie and Chloe had said to her brought the sting of tears to her eyes. At one point she even thought Valerie would come at her in a rush of physical rage. Valerie was not to be thwarted. She wanted out like a wild horse wanted its freedom. And don’t for the love of God get in the way. Whatever Valerie wanted, so did Chloe. The gang of two.

It wasn’t as though she had been adamant with a no. Their combined clout equalled hers. All she wanted was a better offer. Or the opportunity at least to see if he could come up with a better offer? Surely that was reasonable? She was doing this for her dad, not for herself. His memory. Yet Valerie and Chloe had branded her with every unjust name they could think of.

‘I’ll tell you straight! I despise you for being so selfish!’ Valerie had raged. ‘Why did you come back here? We didn’t want you.’

It doesn’t take a lot of words to tear a heart out. What point in saying she had a perfect right to come back. Naroom was as much her home as theirs. More. But they obviously thought her marriage, however short, and their long tenancy downgraded her rights.

The following morning they left in a great flurry, catching a charter flight to Brisbane.

‘I’m going to make it my business to consult with a top lawyer regarding my rights,’ Valerie announced a half an hour before their departure. ‘I was Llew’s wife! Surely to God I had the stronger claim? But no, I finished up with a mere quarter of everything.’

‘A quarter of the estate amounts to quite a lot, Val.’ Allegra tried to get a word in edgeways.

But Valerie wasn’t prepared to listen. ‘I’m going to see about contesting the will. It’s an outrage your share was double mine. Anyone would side with me on that one. The wife should be the main beneficiary. I know you worked on your father. You kept at him and at him until he saw things your way.’

A wave of futility crested then crashed on Allegra. For her and Valerie to reconcile was unimaginable. ‘That is patently untrue, Valerie. For your information Dad and I never ever discussed his will.’

‘And who would believe you?’ Valerie countered, her eyes flashing anger and disbelief. ‘Anyway I can’t stand around arguing with you. We have a plane to catch.’

‘Good but before you go I want you to know I have no intention of holding up a sale if that’s what you want. All I’m seeking is the best possible price we can get.’

‘Just see you stick to that!’ Valerie responded, her voice charged with venom.

There was, alas, little hope what was left of family could survive. Her father gone Allegra felt she was well and truly on her own.

By late morning the rain had ceased and the sun came out in all its glory, dispersing the clouds. Allegra took the opportunity of saddling up Cezar, her father’s big handsome bay, and riding out to check on the herd. After one torrential downpour the creek that had been low for so long had risen a good metre, the surging brown water frothed with white. It coursed between its green banks, spewing up spray wherever it encountered boulders and rocks. She had already given the order to move the stock in case there were further downpours, which was a strong possibility. It was the monsoon season in the tropical North. Anything was possible; deep troughs, cyclones. The cattle were now grazing all over the flats on either side of the creek. They all knew what flash floods were like. They had all seen dead bloated cattle with terror carved into their faces. It was not a sight one forgot.

When she was satisfied everything was moving according to plan she rode back to the homestead, rejoicing in a world the rain had washed clean. She loved the air after the rain. She loved riding beneath the trees getting showered with water from the dripping branches. Everything about her, body and spirit, rejoiced in the great outdoors. For sure she had made a name for herself working as a fashion editor. She knew she was very good at her job. She had natural flair but she had always known where her heart was. It was the land that made her happy.

She was approaching the house when she saw with a flare of excitement as big as a bonfire: Rory Compton’s Land Cruiser parked in the driveway. A moment later she saw his tall rangy figure walk down the front steps, making for his vehicle. Finding no one at home he was obviously leaving. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. This man was too much on her mind.

Allegra urged the bay into a gallop.

He saw her coming. The bay she was riding was too big and most likely too strong for most women but she was handling it beautifully. She was wearing a cream slouch hat crammed down on her head, but her dark red hair was streaming beneath it like a pennant in the wind. He remembered what a beautiful natural rider his mother had been. How he had loved to watch her. He was painfully aware his love for the woman who had borne him wasn’t buried so deep it couldn’t resurface at some time. A tribute to motherhood he supposed.

He found he loved watching this woman, too. Allegra Hamilton was luring him like a moth drawn compulsively to a lamp. From out of nowhere she was all over his life. He was even starting to miss her when he didn’t see her. He was even starting to imagine her there beside him. Hell, he wanted more of her. More of her company. The good Lord had either answered his prayers or sent him one heck of a problem.

She reined in a foot or two away from him, one hand tipping her hat the brim turned up on both sides, further back on her head. Her posture was proud and elegant. God, what’s the matter with me? he thought

The answer came right away. You’ve fallen fathoms deep in love.

‘What brings you here, Rory Compton?’ Her eyes sparkled all over him, his face and his body, setting up a chain of spine tingles.

He damn nearly said, you. But no way could her feelings be as well developed as his. He made do with business. ‘I’ve come with my final offer,’ he explained.

‘Ah, so you’ve got one?’ She dismounted in one swift, graceful movement, swinging her long slender leg up and over the horse’s back.

‘That’s some animal,’ he said, running his eyes over the handsome beast.

‘Cezar.’ She patted the bay’s neck affectionately. ‘Cezar was my father’s horse.’

‘I should have known. He’s too big and too powerful to be a woman’s horse.’

‘Are you saying I can’t handle him?’ She had to narrow her eyes against the glare.

He spread his hands. ‘Never, my lady. It was a pleasure to watch you. You’re a fine horsewoman. My mother was, too.’ He hadn’t intended to mention his mother at all. It just happened.

Her beautiful face softened into tenderness. ‘You miss her terribly, don’t you?’

‘Here, let me do that,’ he said, ignoring her question because he was too moved by it, coming forward so he could remove the saddle from her heated horse.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, turning her head. ‘Here comes Wally. He’ll take care of it.’

‘Fine.’ Rory watched as a wiry-looking lad of around sixteen—he vaguely recognised him—jogged towards them, coming from the direction of the stables. He had a big cheerful grin all over his face. ‘Thought I saw you comin’ back, Miss Allegra.’

‘We both wanted that ride, Wally,’ she said and handed him the reins. ‘Look after him for me, would you? You remember Mr Compton?’

‘Sure do!’ The boy, part aboriginal, studied Rory with obvious liking. ‘Gunna buy the place, boss?’

‘Allow us to work that out, Wally, if you don’t mind.’ Allegra broke in, her tone mild.

‘Sure, Miss Allegra.’ Wally’s grin stayed in place. He hadn’t taken the slightest offence. He took the reins to lead Cezar away. ‘Nice to see yah, Mr Compton.’

‘So long, Wally.’ Rory nodded casually. ‘Be good now.’

‘Come into the house,’ Allegra said as she turned to Rory, struck by the dramatic foil his light eyes, tanned skin and black hair presented. He was so handsome it seemed to her he radiated a spell. She just hoped she was keeping her powerful response underwraps. But surely no red-blooded woman could fail to be aroused by such stunning masculinity, or not enjoy his male beauty. Even after the traumas of her broken marriage she couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like in bed.

Face it. She’d been spending too much time wondering. At a time when she should be standing back, taking stock of her life, a new relationship had been thrown open. What to do with it? Briskly she made towards the front steps.

‘So where are Valerie and Chloe?’ Rory asked, as they moved into the empty house. He would have a huge job in front of him keeping up the businesslike aura.

‘They won’t be back here until next week,’ Allegra said, throwing her cream hat unerringly onto a peg.

He saluted her aim with a clap. ‘Are they taking a short holiday?’ he asked. He wouldn’t cry buckets if they weren’t coming back.

‘You could say that.’ She turned to face him, filled with something very like joy. Where was all this leading? She only knew it was going too fast.

‘Would it be considered impolite to ask why?’ Rory stared back at her, drinking her in. She was wearing a mulberry coloured polo shirt over cream jodhpurs that showed off the slender length of her legs and her very neat butt. She didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup at all. Just a touch of lipstick probably to protect her mouth, but her beauty was undiminished.

‘You’re loads better off not knowing!’ Her answer was wry.

‘Tell me. One would have to be massively insensitive not to pick up on the fact you women don’t have a warm relationship.’

‘Okay, we had an argument,’ she confessed.

‘I would never have guessed! It involved my offer and your decision not to accept it, of course.’

‘Clairvoyant as well.’ She turned to walk into the living room and he followed.

God, she could lead me anywhere, Rory thought, not altogether proud of the way he had fallen so easily for her. Did he actually need a mad passion? Surely he had decided he didn’t. Yet he was thrilled and apprehensive at the same time. Their being alone together could only draw them closer. He already knew he was going to go along with it, even though he recognised she had the capacity to hurt him badly. This was a woman who would want to go back to her glamour job in the city. That was something to be feared.

You fool, Rory! This is getting altogether too serious.

He was getting right into the habit of communing with himself. Now he glanced around the comfortable living room. ‘Family arguments are no fun.’ Boy, didn’t he have some experience!

‘You can say that again,’ she sighed. ‘My family doesn’t want me here anymore. That’s it in a nutshell.’

‘Okay let’s sit down,’ he said gently, seeing how much that hurt her.

‘We’re going to haggle?’ She settled into an armchair indicating he take the one opposite.

‘If you like. A cup of coffee would make me feel better.’

She sprang up as if remiss at not offering him one. ‘Me, too!’ She was becoming addicted to this man and in such a short while. Yet right from the beginning an intimacy had existed she had never shared with anyone else. Explain that? ‘Come through to the kitchen,’ she invited. ‘We can haggle in there.’

It was a big kitchen but his presence filled it up. Allegra busied herself hunting out the coffee grinder then taking the beans from the refrigerator.

‘I’ll do that,’ he offered, moving closer.

‘Fine.’ Even her pulses were doing an Irish reel. ‘Count to twenty, that should do it.’ She opened a cupboard and took out coffee cups and saucers, trying to tone herself down.

‘The rain was wonderful,’ he said when he finished grinding the beans and the kitchen was quiet again. ‘I found myself standing out in it.’

‘I can understand that.’ She smiled. ‘I did, too. I was purposely riding under the trees so I could get a shower from the wet branches. Do you think we’ll get more? Rain is so very unpredictable.’

‘Certain to,’ he said.

‘How do you know? Don’t tell me it’s your aching bones?’

‘I can feel it. I can smell it,’ he said. ‘Besides the rain is coming down in bucket loads in the North. The last report I heard a cyclone was forming in the Coral Sea. That’s all it will take. It’s either flood or drought. If the cyclone develops and we get torrential rain, the Big Three—that’s the Diamantina, the Georgina and the Cooper—will bring the floodwaters right down into our remote South-West corner. The Channel Country is one vast natural irrigation system as I’m sure you know. You’ve never been there?’

‘I regret to say, no. I spent years at boarding school, then university, then I married. But I will get there one day.’

‘It would be nice to take you,’ he said. ‘The whole region can flood without a drop of actual rain. Seen from the air it looks like the whole country is underwater.’

‘Of course!’ She looked across at him in quick realisation. ‘You would see it from the air. You have your own plane on Turrawin?’

He nodded. ‘A Beech Baron and a couple of Bell helicopters. We use the choppers a lot for mustering. We also use the services of an aerial mustering company from time to time. Choppers have revolutionised the whole business.’

‘I can imagine, with those vast areas.’ She stopped what she was doing to study him. ‘But it can be dangerous? I’ve heard of many instances of fatal light aircraft and chopper crashes.’

‘Very dangerous.’ He shrugged the danger off. ‘But it’s our way of life, Allegra. We have to keep our fears under control.’

‘That’s pretty amazing,’ she said dryly.

‘When fatalities happen our vast community shares in the heartbreak. We’re all in it together. I’ve been in ground searches and aerial searches in my time. We’ve had two major accidents in the last twelve years on Turrawin. One death I regret to say. A really good bloke, one of our regulars who could fly anything and land anywhere so no one worried about him for quite a while. The other was a crash landing, but mercifully the pilot walked away. I’ve had a close call myself. Once I came down in the middle of a big paperbark swamp. In the Territory I could have been taken by a croc, but we don’t have any crocs in the desert. Well not anymore.’ He smiled. ‘Though you can see them in our aboriginal rock paintings.’

She stared back at him fascinated. ‘You have cave paintings on Turrawin?’

‘We don’t advertise, but yes. Some of them are amazing. One cave in particular is guaranteed to make you believe in the Spirit Guardians. The hairs stand up on my forearms and I consider myself pretty cool.’

‘You are cool.’ She laughed. ‘I’d love to see that cave myself.’

‘I wish I could take you there.’

‘That would be wonderful,’ she admitted recklessly. ‘We don’t have anything like that around here.’

‘I know.’

His mouth, quirked as it was now, was framed by the sexiest little brackets. She realised she watched for those moments. That was what falling in love was all about. It seemed that for her this was the classic coup de foudre. Which by no means guaranteed things were going to turn out fine she reminded herself. As for it happening at such a turning point in her life she was beyond thought.

‘You’re very passionate about your desert domain, aren’t you?’ She said, knowing he would be passionate about most things.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ His crystalline eyes looked right into hers. ‘It’s like no other place on earth and Jay and I have managed to see quite a few. Australia is the oldest continent on earth. I think that accounts for a lot of the extraordinary mystique. It’s the timelessness, the antiquity, the aboriginal feel, the power of the Dreamtime spirits. Then there’s the colour of the place … the vivid contrast between the fiery red earth and the cloudless blue sky. Every country offers its great and its quiet wonders.

‘I’ve stayed a few times with friends, another cattle family, who own and run a magnificent ranch in Colorado. They have the Rocky Mountains for a backdrop. It’s like wow! Then we had a great trip to Argentina a couple of years back. Business and pleasure. A wonderfully colourful and exciting place. We loved it. We managed to get in a few games of polo while we were there. They’re the greatest as I’m sure you know. We even got to fly over the Andes. I love flight. I love flying. Being up there in the wild blue yonder all on your lonesome. It’s tremendous!’

‘Then you’re going to miss it, aren’t you?’ she said, getting a clear picture of him seated at the controls of a plane. ‘Naroom doesn’t run to light aircraft.’

He shrugged. ‘Well you are much closer to civilisation. Turrawin on the other hand is right on the edge of the Simpson. The sand dunes there peak at around one hundred feet and they run for a couple of hundred kilometres unbroken the longest parallel sand dunes in the world. It’s really eerie the way they bring to mind the inland sea of prehistory. I’ve stood on top of our most famous dune, Nappanerica—’

‘The Big Red?’ She smiled, glad she knew the answer.

‘The very same. A Simpson traveller, Dennis Bartell named it. It’s closer to one hundred fifty feet. The most amazing little wildflowers come out after a shower. Not the gigantic displays we get after flooding. But it’s fascinating to study the little fellas up close. There are so many you can’t move without crushing them underfoot, but then they release the most wonderful perfume. You think you’ve died and gone to Heaven.’ He purposely didn’t say he thought the fragrance akin to the fresh fragrance that came off her body.

‘And after flooding?’ she asked. ‘I’ve seen marvellous photographic shots in calendars.’

‘Allegra,’ he said dryly, ‘You have to see the real thing.’ As he spoke he was imagining her with a diadem of yellow daisies around her head. As young boys he and Jay had fashioned them for their mother. ‘After heavy rain, the desert flora has no equal,’ he said with unmistakably nostalgia. ‘The landscape is completely carpeted by pink, white and yellow paper daisies. It’s like some great inland tide. They even sweep up to the stony hill country. Even the hills come alive with thousands of fluffy mulla mulla banners and waving lambs tails. So many varieties of desert peas come out, fuchsias and hibiscus, our exquisite desert rose. Nature’s glory confronts you wherever you look.’

‘It sounds wonderful,’ she said, moved by the controlled emotion in his voice and face. Nostalgia was written all over him ‘The central plains must seem pretty tame to you after your desert home?’

He raised both his wide shoulders in a shrug, but he didn’t answer.

‘Is there no hope of a reconciliation between you and your father?’ she dared to ask the question.

His face angled away from her, looked grim. ‘I need to get as far away from my father as is humanly possible.’

Good God as bad as that!’ she said, pondering the no-holds-barred bitterness and hatreds in family life. ‘It seems to me you’re a son to be proud of.’

He looked up then to smile at her, the smile that was impossible to resist. ‘Why thank you, Miss Allegra.’

‘I’m not trying to butter you up,’ she said, a shade tartly to counteract that sexual radiance. ‘Just a simple statement of fact.’ Belatedly she put the coffee on to perk. He was just so interesting to talk to she had forgotten all about it. ‘Take a seat.’

He pulled out a chair, resting his strong tanned arms on the table. He was wearing a red T-shirt with his jeans, the fabric clinging to his wide shoulders and the taut muscular line of his torso. It was hard to look past his physical magnetism. In fact it was making her jumpy. So jumpy she felt if he touched her she would fall to pieces. Wisely she stayed on the opposite side of the table.

‘So what have you got to tell me?’

He was as aware as she was of the glittering sexual tension that stretched between them, but he tried to play it cool as befitting a serious man. ‘I can go a little higher with my bid.’

She raised an arched brow. ‘How high is a little?’

He turned up his hands. ‘We’ll split it between $3.5 and $4 million. My final offer, Mrs Hamilton, is $3.75.’

‘That Mrs Hamilton might cost you,’ she said frostily.

‘What did he do to you?’ The intense desire to reach for her—the desire he was endeavouring to keep on simmer—damned nearly boiled over.

‘What’s made you change your mind about me?’ she asked. ‘When we first met it was like—What did she do to her poor husband?’

‘I’ve had an epiphany,’ he said, deciding there was safety in being flippant. ‘For one thing, you’re a great cook.’

‘So the fact I can cook swung it?’ The coffee was perking away merrily. She turned away to shift it off the heat.

‘I’m joking!’ There was amusement in his eyes.

‘I know you are, Rory Compton,’ she said tartly, betraying her stretched feelings. There was only one answer to all this. The question was when?

‘So what did he do to you?’ Rory repeated, his gaze very direct. He didn’t think he could stop until he knew. That in itself was a danger.

She set his coffee down in front of him and pushed a plate of homemade biscuits his way. ‘Isn’t this too early in our relationship—for want of a better word—to ask a question like that?’

‘One doesn’t have to go together a long time to have a relationship.’ He let his gaze rest on her. ‘I thought we’d agreed we’ve well and truly bypassed the preliminaries?’ He stirred three teaspoons of raw sugar into his black coffee.

‘That’s way too much sugar,’ she murmured, unable to deny the truth of what he had just said.

‘I take sugar to rally my flagging spirits. Not that I actually need it right now.’ The little sexy quirks bracketed his mouth again. ‘If you won’t answer my question about your husband, answer this. What do you think of my offer?’

Her hand reached up to brush back a fallen thick coil of her hair. ‘Well, I have to see what Valerie and Chloe think.’

‘Stop being so damned evasive,’ he said swiftly. ‘Valerie and Chloe were ready to take $3.5 million.’

‘Don’t you dare look triumphant,’ she warned him, seeing the silver glint in his eyes. ‘I can’t bear it!.’ To her horror she felt tears swim into her own.

‘Hey!’ Rory reached across the table in consternation. He took hold of her satin smooth fingertips, curling his own work toughened hands around them.

Electricity pulsed the entire length of Allegra’s body. She felt the shock of it as much as if he had taken hold of her and thrown her down on a bed.

‘What’s the matter?’ Rory asked. ‘Have I upset you? I didn’t mean to. It’s honestly all I can offer, Allegra.’

She blinked furiously. God, what was the matter with her? She was a quivering mass of nerve endings. ‘I know that,’ she said, looking down at their joined hands. She had never seen such a contrast in skin tones. ‘You can let go of me now.’

‘Fine.’ He did so before he burst into flames. ‘You’ve got skin like silk. It’s your home is that it? In losing it to me you’d be cutting the last ties with your dad.’

‘You’re very perceptive,’ she said shakily, convinced of it.

‘Why else would you look so sad?’

The deep note of empathy, smote her heart. ‘The grieving never ends, does it? It goes away for a little while then it comes back.’

‘Old wounds never cease aching,’ he agreed with a philosophic shrug. ‘Some people are far less able to cope with the pain than others.’ He was thinking of Jay now.

‘I don’t have anyone anymore,’ she said as though it had suddenly occurred to her. ‘No father, no mother, no husband, no stepmother, no half sister. No family. At least you have your brother. Someone you know loves you and you love him back.’

His brooding expression was back in place. ‘It’s going to be damned difficult to see him if I can’t set foot on Turrawin.’

‘Your father must be a monster,’ she exclaimed, leaning her head in her palm.

‘Is that why you left your husband? He was a monster?’ The fact he couldn’t let the subject alone proved he was in over his head.

‘He was a clown!’ The words burst from Allegra before she could take them back. ‘God that sounds awful. Forget I said it.’

He didn’t speak for half a minute, he was so surprised. Clown? He hadn’t been expecting that! ‘So you don’t hate him so much as despise him,’ he asked, registering an involuntary wave of relief.

‘Why are you so interested in my past life?’ she asked.

He smiled. Tantalising. Heartbreaking. It seemed to her that smile was coming more frequently.’ You know why, even if I am trying to slow myself down. I don’t want to frighten you away, but you’re the most romantic, the most glamorous woman I’ve ever met. And you smell like a million crushed wildflowers.’

Her heart faltered, plunged on. ‘That’s one sweet compliment for a cautious man, Rory Compton.’

‘I just can’t help myself. There’s something so right about you, Allegra. Too much danger, too.’

‘In what way?’

He looked past her. ‘I’m an Outback cattleman. You’re a woman with a glamorous career in Sydney.’

‘So I am,’ she said, suddenly plummeted into bleakness.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, stroke that melancholy expression away, instead he spoke bracingly, trying to keep both of them on an even keel. ‘It was one hell of a trip around the property with Chloe. Her driving isn’t so much dangerous as unlawful. What about the two of us riding out? I know you’ve still got some good horses.’

Instantly she felt a surge of pleasure that blew her troubles away. ‘Great minds think alike! I was planning that myself. You can ride Cezar if you like?’ She was aware of her desire to see him on horseback. She hadn’t the slightest doubt he’d been a superlative rider.

His eyes widened for a second. ‘I’d really appreciate that, Allegra,’ he said. ‘And I’m honoured. Cezar is a splendid animal.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Great!’ He stood up, cattleman coming to the fore. ‘I hope you’ve had your men shift the cattle off the river flats. If there is more rain the water will rise above the escarpments of the creek. It will run a bumper and then, you’ll have trouble on your hands.’

Allegra rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘Do you think I don’t know? I’m not stupid, Rory Compton.’

‘I’m starting to think you’re a paragon,’ he said dryly.

Allegra took the final gulp of her coffee.

‘Right!’ He pushed back his chair. ‘Let’s get going while the sun’s out.’