Читать книгу Her Outback Protector - Margaret Way - Страница 10

SANDRA awoke with a start. She ached all over. That’s what happened when you had to be winched into a helicopter. She rolled over onto her back, throwing an arm across her eyes. She was in a hotel room back in Darwin, waiting for Daniel to make a reappearance. He had remained with Moondai’s downed chopper while Air Rescue had ferried her back to Darwin. She really ought to get up, take a shower, tidy herself up. Everyone had been very kind to her, smoothing her way. She knew people would have been just the same had she not been Rigby Kingston’s heiress.

It was night outside. Darwin throbbed with life but inside the hotel room all was quiet save for the hum of the airconditioning. It was a very nice room; thickly carpeted, nicely furnished, the decor suited to the tropical environment, softly lit, a beautiful big waterlily print behind the bed. She slid her bare feet to the floor, sat a moment, then walked over to the corner window looking out. Floors below her, the city was all lit up. A big yellow bus crawled along the main street, taxis whizzed up and down, a couple was turning into the hotel’s entrance. Pedestrians crossed at the lights.

Where was Daniel? He seemed to stand alone as an ally. Their shared ordeal had established quite a bond, as such hair-raising incidents tend to do, although she’d been feeling quite kindly disposed towards him even before that. She knew he viewed her as a young person who needed looking after. A loner. An orphan. He seemed to identify with that. Her lack of height—she was five-two—had never helped. Actually she was very good at fending for herself. A result of having a mother like Pam who really loved her but somehow had never been able to demonstrate it as a parent should. Not that her mother hadn’t had her own harrowing time. Losing her husband the way she had, then being thrown out of Moondai had caused huge psychological trauma.

Her ever present memories began flashing through her brain again. She let them roll like a video clip. There was her mother lying on a bed, an arm thrown across her swollen, tear-streaked face. There was she, a bewildered, grief-stricken child, standing beside the bed, her hand on her mother’s shaking shoulder, trying to make sense of a world that had been turned violently upside down.

I loved your father, Sandy. Our marriage would have survived if only he’d come away with me from Moondai. Moondai killed him. Moondai and your uncle Lloyd.

Uncle Lloyd said I’m not Daddy’s. Is it true?

Would our marriage have survived if you weren’t? Of course you’re Daddy’s little girl. Your uncle would say anything—anything at all—to try to discredit me.

Then how come Grandad threw us out? How could he do that if I’m his granddaughter?

Her mother’s answer was always the same. His grief was too powerful, Sandy. In a way he started to believe your uncle. But never, never doubt. You are Daddy’s daughter. I swear to you on my life and his memory.

Well, her doubts had persisted. It was only years later she had learned to thrust them aside. That was after her mother had married Jem—the second guy didn’t count. Then she was truly on her own. She had never let her mother know what a sicko Jem really was. Her mother seemed happy with a man who liked to impose his will on everyone else, and now they had their son, her stepbrother, Michael, whom they both adored. Didn’t she love Michael herself? Spoilt rotten Michael, despite the bad parenting was a nice little kid. And she was now an heiress who could have anything she liked. That’s if she managed to survive the next six months. She would officially inherit on her twenty-first birthday in August. Her mother had interpreted that as Rigby Kingston trying to buy redemption.

How could her grandfather buy redemption when he hadn’t had a soul?

Twenty minutes later she was showered, shampooed and dressed to descend to the hotel restaurant. She had scrubbed up rather nicely she thought, splashing out on makeup, a pretty dress, and a couple of squirts of perfume to give Daniel Carson a bit of a jolt. She was a woman, not the coltish youngster he thought he had taken under his wing. That attitude had set her a challenge and she liked challenges. She liked Daniel. He had saved her life. How could she not?

So where was he? Surely he’d be back by now, whether they’d been able to restart the helicopter or not. One thing was certain, a team of sharpshooters couldn’t stick around in that swamp at night. It was crawling with crocs. A mechanic with the rescue team had been winched down to him. Maybe together they could get the chopper back in the air as they hadn’t run out of fuel. It had to be some mechanical defect.

The digital clock said 7:23 p.m. She was hungry. All she’d really had all day was hers and Daniel’s sandwiches and a cup of coffee. She was starting to worry about him. She didn’t want to go ahead and eat without him. Even as she thought it, the phone rang. She reached it at speed.

“Ms Kingston?”

Mysteriously her heart leapt. Was that significant? “Daniel, where are you?” She hoped she didn’t sound too needy. She wanted to project the weight of maturity.

“Keep calm. I’m down the hallway. Isn’t that what you wanted? Your overseer close by.”

“You bet. What happened about the chopper? Did you get it out?”

“It took a lot longer than expected. It’s grounded for a complete inspection.”

“So what was the problem?” She caught her reflection in the mirror, all pink cheeked and bright-eyed as if they were having a cosy chat.

“You wouldn’t know if I told you.”

“Just tell me this. Should we contact the police?”

“No way,” he said.

He had such a sexy voice on the phone. It was sort of like being caressed. She took a deep breath. “Listen, we can’t talk on the phone. I’m hungry.”