Читать книгу The Cattle Baron's Bride - Margaret Way - Страница 8

THEY slipped into an animated crowd, most with champagne glasses in hand, and waiters circling with delicious looking finger food. There was a buzz of a hundred voices. Isabelle spotted Cyrus Bannerman first because of his commanding height and presence. Half hidden by the breadth of his shoulder was his beautiful wife of several months Jessica, her magnificent mass of ash-blond hair radiant in the bright fall of skylights. The interior of the gallery was divided into three spacious rooms interconnected by wide arches. The lights were trained on a large collection of photographs, most colour some black and white that took on a rivetting quality to rival paintings. Someone had taken the trouble to hang the prints perfectly on the white expanse of walls.

Jessica looked up and waved, a lovely welcoming smile on her face. Cy turned around to follow his wife’s gaze, beaming too. They watched him glance back at the group he was with, obviously making their excuses, before he tucked his hand beneath Jessica’s elbow steering a path towards Ross and Isabelle who were also being greeted on all sides. The big cattle families were outback royalty. The Sunderlands were as well known as the Bannermans though the late Broderick Bannerman, an immensely wealthy man had not scored anywhere near the late Ewan Sunderland’s high approval rating. Mercifully both sons and heirs were held in high regard.

“Hi!” The women brushed cheeks, smiling into one another’s eyes. The men, looking very pleased to see one another settled for affectionate claps on the shoulder.

“I’m so glad you could come, Isabelle,” Jessica said with complete sincerity. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you. So do you.” Isabelle, who appeared so poised was actually quaking inside. She was grateful for the compliment. Jessica’s warmth and friendliness steadied her. It was a long time since she had ventured out. Blair’s death had put such a contagion on her.

Jessica smiled. “It’s a brilliant collection.” She turned her head over her shoulder. “I know you’ll both love it. David is being feted in the next room. Sam is with David’s assistant, Matt Howarth. A very pleasant guy. Come and meet them. David is an extraordinary man. You’ll like him, Ross. We know he’s very keen on meeting you and hopefully having you for a guide.”

“Piece of cake!” Cy assured his friend.

“I don’t know that I’ve made up my mind, Cy,” Ross said, sobering a moment. Sam was with Matt Howarth? What did that mean? What do you think it means he thought a hard knot in his stomach.

“You want a break. You work too hard,” Cy urged him, forging a path through the throng.

“You should talk.”

“It’s not like it’s going to be for long. Belle would love it.” The old Belle, Cy thought. Knowing her from childhood he recognised and understood Isabelle’s fragile state of mind.

Jessica made a little surprised gesture, looking towards Isabelle. “What a marvellous idea!”

“I couldn’t, Jessica,” Isabelle said quickly, touching the other woman’s arm. “I beg you, don’t say anything.”

“Of course not!” Jessica promised hurriedly seeing the tension in Isabelle’s face. She knew Isabelle’s tragic story and she was full of sympathy. How did a woman cope with losing a be-loved husband? Jessica found herself giving an involuntary shudder. Her own days were filled with ecstatic fulfilment. To lose Cy would be like a descent into hell.

Someone came out of the crowd, a stylish, sweet faced woman in her fifties who grasped Isabelle’s arm. “Isabelle dear, what an extraordinary surprise! I’d heard you were home.”

“Mrs. Charlton, of course.” Isabelle’s face lit up. She allowed herself to be detained. “I’ll catch up with you,” she called to the others.

Ross relaxed when he heard the comfortable note in his sister’s voice. He didn’t know the woman, although he was sure he had seen her some place. So many of Isabelle’s so called friends had betrayed her taking the opinion she somehow had played a role in her popular husband’s death.

The next room was even more crowded. A lion of a man with a large handsome head covered in thick tawny waves and strongly hewn features was holding court. The several women around him were staring up into his face, magnetised, their expressions buoyed up, obviously excited.

Jessica laughed a bit, “Starstruck.”

“Extraordinary guy,” Cy answered. In fact very few in life had that impact he thought.

But Ross saw no one but her. The same galvanising jolt passed through him as the first time he’d laid eyes on her. A sensation he had tried—how unsuccessfully—to erase from his mind. And then, tensing, the man standing too close at her shoulder. Early thirties, slight of build, thin sensitive face, nice smile. Matt Howarth. It had to be. His attitude, the way he was standing flashed an unmistakable message. They shared a relationship, or at the very least an understanding. Surely he hadn’t imagined she would be unattached. A beautiful creature like that! Hell he couldn’t even allow himself to think of her, but the knowledge he wouldn’t succeed was there.

Tonight she was wearing a slip of a dress of a golden hue that complemented her colouring. High heeled gold sandals were on her feet. Her beautiful hair was centre parted falling like a bolt of bright copper satin down her back. Even her skin looked gilded. He could actually feel its smoothness under his hand. Cool and satiny when the very thought of touching her heated his blood.

You want her. You know you do.

He heard that inner voice, the voice that wouldn’t be silenced, whispering in his ear.

Their eyes met. He realised with a sense of crushing mortification he’d been standing once again transfixed. Hell! Acting foolish wasn’t his style. He found himself wondering if the others had noticed he was rooted to the spot. Yet she too, seemed shocked, her beautiful doe’s eyes widening, as if electrified by the intensity of his hunter’s gaze.

Immediately he was seized with the fierce desire to turn around and leave. This woman was temptation. The sort of challenge any smart man would step free of it. No way could he guide this expedition if Samantha Langdon was to go along. He hadn’t the slightest desire to allow a woman to play him like a clown. Woman magic. Sometimes he thought he could never wipe away the bitter taste of his father’s betrayal at the soft hands of his mother. That’s what lay behind everything he thought, abruptly sobering. A man could be shackled by adoration. His beloved father had gone about his life but both of his children had known inside he was shattered. That’s what women were capable of. Leaving a trail of destruction.

He looked away at the brother, David Langdon, thinking with a vague sense of astonishment he liked the man on sight. Brother and sister shared a resemblance—not as marked as his and Belle’s—mostly the colouring. She looked very delicate beside him, ultra feminine. Long, light beautiful bones. The brother was a big man, well over six feet like himself, but strapping rather than lean, very fit and strong looking. His hair was a tawny mix of dark blond to bronze, his eyes a pronounced shade of topaz. Both had generous well defined mobile mouths.

Cy introduced them. The two men shook hands then Langdon speaking easily—he exuded charisma—introduced his assistant, Matt, who regarded Sunderland somewhat warily as if he thought this was someone who could turn dangerous and he was already aware of it.

“I’m looking forward to us all having dinner together,” Langdon said after a few minutes of exchanging social pleasantries. “Meanwhile I hope you enjoy the showing. I have to circulate, it seems.” Cy’s stepsister, Robyn, the owner of the gallery, looking very glamorous in black and white was beckoning to him pushing forward a distinguished looking elderly man. “Excuse me, won’t you?” Langdon’s manner was so warm and charming Ross thought the man would have no difficulty selling heaters to the nomads in the desert. David Langdon had every appearance of a man you could trust with your life.

They all began to study the remarkable array of photographs, moving about the room in procession. Ross listened to the comments of his friends as they talked. Jessica, the creative one, was very knowledgeable. She was just right for Cy he thought. Lucky guy! He wondered where Belle had got to. Ah, there she was, standing with a red-haired woman, seemingly at ease. He stopped for a moment to read a CV of Langdon’s work. Very impressive. He’d spent time in the war zones, East Timor, Afghanistan, Iraq. He was very widely travelled. A great deal in South East Asia. Thailand, Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaysia, Papua New Guinea. Ross had seen his marvellous impressions of that little known country although it lay on Australia’s door step. Separated momentarily from the others—so many people wanted to meet Jessica—he studied the shots of the Great Barrier Reef and the glorious tropical islands. Langdon must have spent hours and hours flying around trying to find the exact spots. Probably in a helicopter or a light plane, door open, strapped in tightly so he could film. Perfect crystal clear waters, cobalt skies, pure white sand ringing jade islands.

He wouldn’t mind a few weeks on a tropical island. He could almost feel himself there. His eyes dwelt with pleasure on a magnificent shot of the Outer Reef shot from the air. The deep channel was a deep inky blue, the waters a deep turquoise, with channels of aquamarine. The fantastic coral gardens were in the foreground, an anchored boat and a group of snorkellers swimming off the reef wall lending perspective. Moving on, he recognised Four Mile Beach at Queensland’s Port Douglas, the purple ranges in the background, luxuriant palms and vegetation wrapping the wide beach, sun worshippers like little colourful dots on the sand. A marvellous, marvellous shot of a small sand cay covered with nesting crested terns, the deep turquoise waters rippled with iridescent green like the heart of a black opal. He felt like he was in the middle of the ocean.

“These are good,” he found himself murmuring aloud.

“You sound surprised?”

He straightened and turned slowly before answering, giving himself time to suppress the involuntary electric thrill that flared along his nerves. As a consequence his voice came out in that strange arrogant fashion. “That wasn’t my intention. Your brother is more than a fine photographer. He’s an artist.”

“He is,” Samantha said with complete conviction, her cheeks flushing a little at the curtness of his tone. Her powerful attraction to this man shocked her. Not Mr. Nice Guy that’s for sure. Formidable. “I run the Sydney gallery for him. Of course you know that. We’re thinking of opening another one here in Darwin.”

“And what do you suppose Robyn will think about that?” Incredibly in his imagination he was pushing her low necked dress down from her shoulders. She had beautiful breasts. She had teased him with their beauty at the wedding, smiling into his eyes, provoking him to dance with her. Of course he was obliged to. They were after all chief bridesmaid and best man.

She was shrugging lightly as if to show she was unfazed by his scrutiny and the challenge of his comment. “There’s plenty of room for another gallery. Robyn specialises in paintings and sometimes sculptures. Hopefully one gallery will be a spin off for the other. There are always a great many tourists in town.”

“Yes,” he agreed briefly, feeling as though he was drunk on some rich potent wine. That was the effect she had on him. But no way, no way, was he about to fall to his knees.

She was returning his gaze equably, so gracious when he always acted the complete boor around her. He suspected she was doing it deliberately.

“I’m wondering why you don’t like me, Ross?” she inquired softly. “No, don’t throw up your head.” Which he did in that high mettled way. “Don’t deny it. We both know it’s true. Remember how it was at the wedding?”

As if he had forgotten.

“I didn’t imagine your…what can I call it? Animus, antagonism? Was it something I said? Something I did? I seem to have gone over it many many times in my head. But it’s still there tonight. The thing is, David and I are so hoping you’ll act as our guide. It would be awkward if there remained difficulties between us.”

He frowned, giving her a look that both smouldered and sparkled. “You intend to go along then?”

“I’ve never seen a man with aquamarine eyes.” She was so unnerved she didn’t answer his question, but said the first thing that came into her head.

“It runs in the family.” He returned carelessly. “Lest you deflect me, I’ll ask again. Do you intend to go along on this trip?”

There was no mistaking the opposition on his hard, handsome face. “I’m thrilled David wants me,” she said, feeling the friction between them like a burr against the skin. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed the little texts beneath the photographs. I was responsible for them.”

It was a reflex to compliment her. He had thought they were Langdon’s; a few lines, often poetic capturing the very essence of the scene. “Very good.”

“I don’t think you know—I made such a poor impression on you at Cy’s and Jessica’s wedding but I write and illustrate children’s stories as well as managing the gallery. They’re for children with vivid imaginations. They’re starting to do very well. Jessica and I took a Fine Arts Degree together, but I’m not nearly so gifted as she. It won’t be too long before Jessica gives an exhibition of her paintings. She not only fell madly in love with her Territory Man, she fell in love with the Territory. So far David hasn’t photographed the Top End or the Red Centre which has been widely covered of course. He likes to capture his subject matter in a new light.”

“And it works.” He tried hard to lighten up but that was difficult when he was standing less than an arm’s length from her. “You realise a trip into Kakadu wouldn’t be a picnic?”

She tilted her chin, hoping her eyes weren’t betraying her reactions. This man attracted and daunted her in equal measure. “I know it’s a great wilderness area.”

He nodded, his black hair sheened with purple highlights like the sky at midnight. For a cattle man used to working gear, off duty he was very stylishly groomed. Dark cream linen suit. White shirt with a brown stripe the top button casually undone. Silk tie with alternating white and brown stripes. Sexy enough to take her breath away.

“Have you ever got up close and personal with a twenty foot croc?” he asked with light sarcasm.

“I’d make sure you were in front of me.” She tried to joke.

“It’s no joke,” he told her, his lean features taut.

“I’ll have you know I’m serious.” She looked directly at him, feeling on her mettle. “What is it, Ross? Have you written me off as a bimbo? Someone who’ll turn into a quivering liability?”

“I have to tell you I wouldn’t be happy to take you,” he said bluntly.

“Samantha,” she prompted. “That’s my name. Sam, if you like.”

“Sam is just too quaint.” Anyone less like a Sam he had yet to see. He gazed into her dark doe eyes, bright with little golden motes.

She could have hit him. Damaged her hand. Herself. “Actually I was hoping your sister, Isabelle—she’s so beautiful—might be persuaded to come along with us. Station bred she’d be an enormous help to me.”

He could only warn her off. “Belle wouldn’t be interested, I’m afraid. She lost her husband not so long ago.”

Samantha dipped her head, her nerves tightening. “Jessica told me. I’m so very sorry. She’s so young. Mightn’t it help her to get out though, don’t you think? Nature is a great healer.”

Very deliberately he cut off that line of thinking. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Samantha.”

The effect of her name on his lips was extraordinary. How strange it was to be excited by a man and thoroughly disconcerted at the same time. “Don’t be like that,” she pleaded.

“Like what?” He was sizzling with sexual energy. A male aggression that appeared to possess him in her presence. Chaos threatened when he liked order.

“Arrogant, actually,” she told him quietly, feeling a twist of desire deep inside her and nothing she could do about it. “Unpleasant as well when Cy thinks you’re the greatest guy in the world.”

“Maybe I’m a lot more used to dealing with men than women. I’m sorry. I apologise.”

His sudden smile made her suck in her breath. It bathed his rather severe handsome features in dazzling light. “That’s not what I’ve heard either,” she found herself saying.

“Meaning what?” He shrugged, a surprisingly elegant movement.

“There are a lot of girls hung up on you I was told. I suppose that’s a good sign. Then again a lot of women are attracted to men who have little use for them.”

“And you’re assuming I’m that kind of man?”

The colour of his remarkable eyes was a source of wonder. “Aren’t you?” Her every instinct had warned her this man was trouble yet she plunged ahead angered by his resistance, almost dismissal. It wasn’t something she was used to.

“I love my sister,” he pointed out.

“You certainly should. You had to stick together.”

His expression tightened. “Cy told you my life story?”

“What’s wrong with that? I was interested. He filled me in a little way. I know your parents divorced when you were twelve and your sister a few years younger. Don’t feel overly bad about that. Our mother and father split up when I was still at school and David had already left home. Both of them are re-married. David and I have two stepbrothers—my dad’s. Things like that.”

He was surprised. He had thought her the most cosseted of creatures. Daddy’s little princess. A most beautiful little girl. But there was a sudden haunting in her eyes. “You can’t quite cover up the fact you’d been praying they’d stay together?”

“Absolutely, but they’d hit a very bumpy ride. In fact it’s put me off marriage.”

“True?” He let his smile loose again.

Another thrill. That alone shouted a warning. “I’ve already decided you have a lot against it.”

“Really?” He looked down his straight nose at her. “You don’t know me.” Even if you are trying to lead me on.

Her heart gave a wild flutter. She couldn’t believe the arrogance of his manner could be a seduction. But it was. “I’d like to know you better,” she said, something she’d discovered the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

“So you can dig out my weaknesses?” He willed his blood to stop racing. There was a tremendous exhilaration in this sparring. It was like being caught up in an electrical storm when at any moment danger could be inflicted on a man.

“I didn’t imagine for a moment you had any,” she answered with faintly bitter sweetness.

“As many as the next man.” He shrugged. “But I work hard to keep them under control. I had the impression you and your brother’s assistant were close?”

A flare of something, was it anger? deepened the apricot colour in her cheeks. “Now how on earth did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“Are you telling me it’s not true?” Sad if he was giving himself away.

“I’m not telling you anything,” she said crisply, knowing with every passing minute getting involved with this intoxicating man would be a terrible mistake. “I’d like to see you less sure of yourself and your opinions.”

“And you’re the one hoping we can be friends?” he scoffed.

Think, Sam. Try to clear your head.

Yet all her pulses were drumming in double time. “Not friends so much,” she successfully mustered her poise. “I don’t believe we could ever be friends, not unless you undergo a radical change, but colleagues of sorts. I know you’d prefer Men Only, women being such nuisances, but I’d endeavour to keep out of your way.”

“Fine,” he drawled, staring down at her mouth with her small teeth like prize pearls. Her lips were full, luscious, incredibly tempting. He’d like to crush their cushiony softness beneath his. Teach her a lesson. “But not exactly easy if we had to share a tent?”

She battled the shock wave. “We wouldn’t have to do that. Would we?”

For the first time there was genuine amusement in his jewelled eyes. “Not your idea of fun? It could get worse.”

She was still seeing them sharing a tent. “Like dodging crocs and pythons that devour you at a gulp?”

“Lady, there’s so much I’m not telling you.” It came out with a flicker of contempt.

Use your head. Go!

She had to make her escape before she said something she would regret. Ross Sunderland was dynamite. Exciting yes, but one of the dangerous men of this world. He drew her so much it was scaring her badly. “Anything to put me off,” she managed lightly. “I think I’ll have a word with Isabelle if I can find her. You’re a terrible man.” She half turned away.

“Knowing that at the start will save you a lot of trouble,” he called after her.

“To be frank I knew it the instant I laid eyes on you.” She turned back to confront him, long silky hair swirling, flame bright in the strong lights.

His mouth curved in a challenging smile. “Then you know we’re not fated to be friends.”

“That sounds so much like a dare?”

They were caught in a tableau, neither moving until a very pretty brunette dressed in show stopping red broke it up by rushing between them, ignoring Samantha as though she weren’t there. “Ah there you are Ross, darling!” She grabbed his arm. Held on for dear life. “I didn’t think this was your scene. Mum and I have only just arrived. Come and join us. We were just saying we should have a good party. It’s seems like ages since we got together.” She began to pull him away.

Samantha didn’t wait to see them move off. She was cursing herself for allowing Ross Sunderland to get to her. No way either was he going to block her path. Her company and contribution were important to her brother. She was determined not to be left behind.

David Langdon took a long slow breath then decided to catch up with the woman he’d spent so much time watching. Albeit out of the corner of his eye. A beaute fatale. Of course he had known she was beautiful. In fact she was more beautiful in the flesh than she was in the photographs he had seen in the papers and the few times they had captured her on television always hurrying away, head bent, one hand trying to cover her face like the tragic Princess Diana. For a while the media had hounded her. That must have been a bad experience. He knew who she was of course. Isabelle Hartmann, Blair Hartmann’s young widow. She couldn’t be more than mid-twenties and her beauty hadn’t even reached its zenith. She still looked as though she was hurting badly.

David hadn’t even told his sister how much he had learned about this near notorious young woman over the past months. Mostly from people supposedly in the know. Little of it good. It seemed to him a shocking thing to condemn her out of hand. Who knew exactly what went on within a marriage? Closer to the truth he’d been seized with a fierce desire to protect her which was quite odd since he had never managed to meet her. Not that he wasn’t in and out of Sydney all the time but he made a point of avoiding the big social functions unless they were in aid of charity. His deep seeing eyes, trained eyes, had divined the torment in her.

A lot of the rumours and gossip had their origins in plain jealousy. He’d come to that conclusion. Men he’d found were far more reluctant to put any blame at all on her though all were in agreement Blair Hartmann had been a nice easy going guy, maybe a little light weight, spoiled outrageously by his wealthy mother. Everyone knew that. It was women, especially Evelyn Hartmann’s circle, fuelled by envy and resentment and fearing to cross such a formidable figure in society as Isabelle’s ex-mother-in-law, who claimed Isabelle was an altogether different person from the one who appeared in public. For one thing she had been near arctic to the husband who had adored her. There was even talk she had refused him a child no doubt to preserve her willowy figure, selfish creature. She was terribly vain they reported, obsessed with herself and her clothes.

At least they couldn’t say she had married Hartmann for his money. The Sunderlands were a highly respected pastoral family wealthy in their own right as the press had easily uncovered. The fierce argument between the two, husband and wife had of course found its way into print. Speculation had been rife. Something Isabelle Hartmann had said had caused her late husband so loving and appreciative of her, to storm out of the party. Worse, perhaps caused him to be careless of his own life.

Whispers still followed her. He had overheard a few this very night. Blessed or cursed by such physical beauty she was bound to be a cynosure of attention. But no one he had noticed had been so careless as to give rein to gossip with her brother in earshot. Ross Sunderland was a man with fire in his remarkable eyes. Even the way he stood near his sister, sometimes with his arm carelessly around her, told the world not to be surprised if he retaliated on his sister’s behalf. Langdon had been told and had since witnessed the two were very close. My God, didn’t he feel the same about his own little sister, Samantha, nearly seven years his junior who had borne the brunt of their parents’ undeniably bitter break up with Sam the pawn in the middle. On his world travels at the time he had since done his level best to make it up to her.

Seeing Isabelle Hartmann alone for a moment that beautiful face cool, passionless as a statue, he made his way towards her, gesturing with a smile he’d get back to a couple who surged across the room to gain his attention.

“Good evening, Mrs. Hartmann. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself for some time. David Langdon.”

She turned to him quickly, staring up into his face. “Of course, Mr. Langdon.” Some emotion stirred in her, swiftly crossed her face, then disappeared. She gave him her hand, silky soft, slender quite lost in his bear grip. He fought down the powerful urge to carry it to his lips.

“My pleasure.” She smiled, finding something incredibly mesmeric about this big, dynamic man. “And it certainly has been. I’ve so enjoyed your showing.”

“I’m glad.” Was it his imagination or was she trembling?

“I’d have met you much earlier only I got caught up by friends who haven’t seen me for a while. You’ve been so much the centre of attention I didn’t want to intrude.” The fact was both Cy and Jessica, then a little later Samantha followed by Ross had insisted they introduce her—it was high time—but for some reason she had made the excuse she would wait a while until all the adulation died down. It still hadn’t stopped.

“The gallery shuts its doors at ten.” He glanced over her satin smooth dark head. She wore her hair in a style he particularly liked if the woman could get away with it. A classic chignon that emphasized her enchanting swan neck. “I sincerely hope you’re going to join us at dinner?”

She pressed her fingers to her temple.

“Please don’t claim a headache,” he begged, smiling into her eyes. “I promise you you’re going to enjoy yourself. I’ve already met Ross, of course. I feel already he’s just the right man to lead our expedition.”

She allowed her eyes to appraise his height and his broad shoulders. A gentle giant but she had no doubt he could be incredibly tough when he had to be. “You don’t strike me as the sort of man who needs anyone to lead him.”

He gave her another charming smile. “As much as I hate to say it I’d definitely need an expert to guide me through Kakadu. This is your part of the world.”

“Yet you’ve visited other extremely remote places. Very dangerous places as well.”

“And I’ve counted on good people who know what they’re about for survival.”

She braced herself a little. He was very close, towering over her. So big, so solid, but marvellously nonthreatening. She had made a horrendous error in judgment with Blair but she knew in her bones this man would always deal with women gently. “I’m not exactly sure Ross has made up his mind, Mr. Langdon,” she warned him.

“David, please.”

“Isabelle.” She spoke almost shyly, her creamy white skin colouring slightly. It was enormously appealing. Rumour had painted her a vain self centred creature who lived only for her own pleasure and conquest. He saw none of it. Perhaps tragedy had destroyed her confidence.

“It suits you,” he remarked, his voice deep with more than a polite veneer. If he had to visualise Shakespeare’s Dark Lady of the Sonnets, it would be Isabelle Hartmann. He surprised within himself not only fascination but a curious tenderness for this young woman with the purity and loveliness of a lily. She was wearing white to enhance the effect, one shouldered, a fluid column, no jewellery except for pendant earrings. Lustrous South Sea pearls appended from a diamond cluster. She wore no rings on her long fingered hands. No engagement ring. No wedding ring. Pearl painted nails. There again a puzzle. Would a woman so recently widowed remove clear evidence of her marriage? What did it say? She had gained no comfort there?

His topaz eyes glowed like a cat’s without giving anything away, but Isabelle was aware he was noting every last little thing about her. Extraordinarily she welcomed it. One of the paradoxical facts of life. As big and masculine as he was, he didn’t threaten her. Rather she felt in the presence of some powerful creature who for his own reasons had taken her under his protection. She had already noticed there was something distinctly leonine about him even to the tawny mane. She realised she too was taking stock, wondering how those thick waves would feel beneath her hands. To grasp them! To tug gently. It would be quite wonderful.

My God, she had to be mad!

“That’s great! You two have finally met.”

Each was so engrossed in the other they actually started when Samantha appeared at her brother’s side, smiling her pleasure. She glanced at her watch excitedly. “Ten minutes to go then we can all get to know one another better. I have to admit I’m hungry. What about you, Isabelle?”

It was her moment to say she had a slight headache and would be returning to the hotel only someone as radiant and friendly as Samantha Langdon was hard to resist. David Langdon said nothing, quietly waiting for her answer. She was forced to admit the fact he was going to be there had a huge bearing on her decision. She couldn’t bring herself to ask why. Better that way.

“Perhaps a little,” she smiled. “But I warn you. I’m not going to talk. I’m going to listen.”

They all sat round a circular table, paired off as if it would have been obvious to an onlooker that Isabelle and Ross and David and Samantha were closely related. David’s assistant Matt had a previous engagement to meet up with a friend staying at the Holiday Inn so the numbers were even. The restaurant was nowhere near as opulent as the restaurants Isabelle had frequented with Blair and their circle of friends. His friends really, part of the Establishment, grown up together, gone to the same schools and University, but the food was every bit as good. Over the last dreadful months it had been difficult just trying to swallow enough to stay alive but tonight sitting between David Langdon and her brother Isabelle found herself surprisingly hungry. Even the air around her had taken on a different quality. Maybe sanity wasn’t staying away from people but joining them.

They all had different things for an entrée, though she and Jessica shared a range of appetisers, crudités and quails eggs and a beautiful Haloumi that came from Kangaroo Island and was much better than the imported. Samantha had sea scallops wrapped with bacon with a red wine sauce, David, pan fried prawns in potato waistcoats, Cyrus decided on abalone with shiitake and young salad leaves served in its beautiful ovoid shell and Ross stayed with one of his favourites, rice noodle cannelloni stuffed with the superb blue swimmer crab meat.

It was difficult not to mellow under the influence of such beautiful food and the excellent chilled chardonnay that accompanied it. Seafood figured heavily for the main course, magnificent lobster caught that very morning, coral trout off the Reef, and the superb eating fish barramundi for which the Top End was famous.

Ross glancing across at his sister found it deeply heartening to see her eating with apparent enjoyment, smiling frequently at something David Langdon said to her, obviously at ease with him. It was almost as if he had brought her to life. There was colour in her cheeks. She looked very beautiful but still dangerously vulnerable. Well, Langdon was a kind man. He could see that. A gentleman. He was also very amusing, very knowledgeable, and Ross had had ample evidence women found Langdon extremely attractive. David Langdon had to be one hell of a catch. It didn’t occur to Ross that people said exactly the same thing about him.

Dessert was out of the way—the men had wanted it—the women protested they had to mind their figures but Langdon persuaded Isabelle to try a lime and ginger crème brulee. Coffee after that, and the real discussion began.

Here it comes Samantha thought. He’s going to make it perfectly plain he doesn’t want me along. The Great White Hunter on his men only expedition. Men she had to admit had a special camaraderie. In the space of a couple of hours she could see her brother and Ross Sunderland had made a good connection. Something she could hardly say for herself and that complicated man. It was easy to see both men would get along indeed all three men had a lot in common, essentially men of action living their lives outdoors for most of the time. Of course women formed extraordinary bonds but in different ways and usually it took longer. She and Jessica were long time close friends but she could see she couldn’t intrude on Isabelle’s space no matter how much she liked her. Isabelle had lost her adored husband and she was wrapped in sadness. Nevertheless it was lovely to see her responding to David’s gentle masterly hand. Her big brother was simply the best. There had been women in his life of course, but apparently nothing so intense it had made him want to enter into marriage. Marriage didn’t always culminate in happily ever after anyway. Before their parents had been divorced they’d become bitter enemies. Two bitter enemies who had together created herself and David. When did a marriage go wrong? What happened to the spoken vows of love and commitment? In the end the only thing possible was for each to release the other. A sane person would stay away from marriage entirely.

She moved on to Ross Sunderland who knew all about parental marriage bonds broken and the grief that attended it. Certainly he was relaxing his guard. In fact he was showing himself to be excellent company but when his eyes fell on her she couldn’t miss the challenging glint that sent tingles chasing down her spine. That in itself was unsettling. How could one be attracted to a man with an irresistible need to snap one’s fingers at him at the same time?

Talk of Kakadu, the great national park brought the men alive. Twenty thousand square kilometres of crocodile infested rivers, low lying flood plains, rocky outcrops, waterfalls rain forest and woodlands dominated by the magnificent buttress of the Arnhem Land escarpment that ran for six hundred kilometres across the tropical Top End, one of the last great world wilderness areas. It had been established aboriginals had inhabited Kakadu for fifty thousand years. Neighbouring Arnhem Land was still inhabited by large numbers of Australia’s indigenous people indeed Kakadu was under the custodianship of the traditional owners.

Ross and Cy were telling David about the world famous rock galleries of Nourlangie and Ubirr estimated at around twenty thousand years old and of great archaeological importance.

“Most of the paintings at Nourlangie are in the X-ray style,” Ross said, leaning towards David like a man on a mission to sell the Top End. “Two phases descriptive and decorative. Extraordinarily these X-ray drawings depict the subject’s internal anatomical features. Ibirr is another treasure house you’d need to see. You’ll find the Mimi spirits depicted there. The aboriginals believe they live in the caves, even in the little cracks and crevices.”

“To them, the Mimi are terrifying creatures,” Cy eased in the comment.

Ross nodded. “Namargon, the Lightning Man is represented, stone axes growing from his head, arms and knees to strike the ground. He appeared when the region first experienced the great electrical storms of the Wet. The rock art is the region’s major cultural heritage. It can’t be missed.”

“Take me there,” David smiled. “I’m sold.”

They got through almost another hour talking. David Langdon asked a great many questions. Cy and Ross answered them, taking turns, sometimes speaking together their enthusiasm was so great. Isabelle sat back quietly. Jessica smiled lovingly at her husband, Samantha inwardly was on tenterhooks. She couldn’t bear to think for once she would lose out although Sunderland hadn’t as yet agreed to act as their guide. His purpose on the whole seemed to be that of an arm chair guide, pointing out the very special areas of interests, the sacred sites, the extraordinary land forms and the spectacular escarpment country and the various hazards along the way which included the immensely dangerous giant saurians of the Alligator River, North and South, and the numerous billabongs and wetlands. Both he and Cy maintained if you treated the crocodiles with respect and didn’t intrude foolishly on their territory no harm would come to you.

Samantha took that as a very good reason for being allowed to go along. It wasn’t as though she was planning to come within patting distance of their hideous snouts. They weren’t cuddly koalas, though even koalas being wild animals could inflict a lot of damage if they felt threatened.

David gave a satisfied sigh. “So are you going to be free to take us?”

For one dreadful moment it looked like Sunderland was about to say, no, only Samantha breathed a sigh of relief when his sister caught his eye and smiled. Isabelle knew he wanted to go. Ross loved being out in the wilderness. There were a few pressing commitments he would have to attend to before he went. Afterwards for the space of a few weeks of the trip he could delegate. Their overseer, Pete Lowell, was a good, dependable man. Their father had trained him.

“All right,” Ross agreed, returning his sister’s smile with some wryness. “I’ll take you. That would be Matt, your assistant and yourself, I take it?”

Well you take it wrong, Samantha thought smartly, catching her brother’s eye.

“I was hoping, Ross, Samantha could come,” David said sounding thoroughly persuasive.

It was quite clear that didn’t work on Sunderland. The animated expression on his lean handsome face changed abruptly. Samantha willed him to give in but he shook his head. “That would well and truly be bending the rules, Dave. It will be far from easy getting to the places you’d want to get your shots. I’ve seen your work. I know danger entices you. It’s the same excitement as a safari only we don’t get to kill magnificent wild animals as they did in the bad old days.”

“What if we established camps?” David suggested, seeing Sunderland’s point of view.

“And leave your sister on her own?” Sunderland’s black brows shot up.

I’m not even Samantha, Sam thought. I’m “your sister.”

David’s topaz eyes moved to the silent Isabelle. “What if Isabelle came along? For all her lilylike appearance I expect she’s a woman who could handle herself in the bush.”

Yes, oh yes!

Samantha, mindful of what Isabelle had said to her, managed to hold her tongue but instead of shrinking away from the idea, Isabelle glanced down, her long lashes dark and heavy on her cheeks. She knew Ross had made it clear he didn’t want Samantha on the trip which in all fairness she had to admit was in the wildest least explored area of the continent. On the other hand she could see Samantha had a positive yen for adventure.