Читать книгу The Cattleman, The Baby and Me - Michelle Douglas - Страница 8

‘I WON’T let you down, Harry,’ Sapphie whispered against Harry’s hair, her arms tightening around him as she watched Liam and Sid unload her and Harry’s things from the plane. For the first time in two days Harry didn’t try to push away from her.

He must be exhausted. And scared.

She rummaged through their bags until she found Horsie—a stuffed toy from her own childhood, and the only toy she’d had in her house to give to Harry. She held him up for Harry to see. Harry didn’t smile even when she pressed the toy’s face lightly to his cheek and made loud smoochy kissing noises, but he did wrap one arm tightly about Horsie’s neck. Then he stared up at Sapphie with eyes so wide she couldn’t help it. She had to drop a kiss to his brow.

‘I promise you,’ she whispered again. ‘I won’t let you down.’ When Sid left, Liam would tell her who Harry’s father was, and then she could start her search anew.

She turned. Liam had carried all their bags to his car in one go. If there was a spare ounce of flesh on the man, she couldn’t see it. He wore a long sleeved khaki workshirt tucked into his jeans, and although she could make out the breadth of his shoulders all the honed muscle beneath was hidden. She knew it would be honed.

He was so…big! Tall…broad…strong. A woman wouldn’t stand a chance if he…

An icy prickle crawled across her scalp. She grabbed hold of the panic before it could spiral free. There was a housekeeper at the homestead. She wouldn’t be alone with this man.

Besides, instinct told her he wasn’t the kind of man who would take advantage of a woman’s vulnerability. She paid close attention to her instincts. He might be as unforgiving and elemental as the land he worked, and she’d be crazy to underestimate him—only a fool would cross him—but, like the land, he lacked deliberate malice. She stared at the rugged angles of his face. He had a savage grandeur that was grim and beautiful at the same time, like the amazing landscape of the Kimberley region.

Still…a woman could never be too careful. She would ring Anna this evening.

‘Whenever you’re ready, Ms Thomas.’

Sapphie blinked at the dry drawl before heat invaded her cheeks. How long had she been staring at him? Her hand flew to her top button. A sigh juddered out of her when she found it firmly done up.

‘Sapphie,’ she said. ‘Please call me Sapphie.’ And then, ‘Do you know the Currans of Jarndirri?’

He swiped his brow with his forearm, then shrugged. ‘I’ve met Jared West a few times. I knew Bryce Curran.’

Yeah, well, he was my father. She didn’t say the words out loud. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let him know she had connections out here. ‘My mother used to work at Jarndirri as a station cook during muster. Anna and Lea Curran are my dearest friends in the world. We went to school together.’ She added a lie for good measure. ‘Anna’s expecting us for dinner this evening. That’s why I need to use your phone—to let her know where we are. So she won’t worry.’

At first he didn’t say anything, and, while his eyes might be the most amazing blue she’d ever seen, it didn’t mean she could read them. And then, ‘You’re trying to tell me you’re not a stranger out here?’

That was exactly what she was telling him. ‘You needn’t worry I’ll wander off and get myself lost. And I do know the difference between a King Brown and a Taipan.’ She had a healthy respect for snakes—especially those two varieties.

‘That’s good to know.’

His eyes held a hint of…something. Amusement? Was he laughing at her? Not that she minded if he was—amusement was something she could deal with. Besides, a smile would soften the line of his mouth. A laugh might well transform his face entirely.

Not that his amusement, if that was what it was, manifested itself into anything as outwardly betraying as a smile. It was becoming all too apparent that Liam Stapleton was a self-contained man. She wondered what it would take to smash through those barriers and unleash the man within.

She shivered at the thought. It wasn’t something she was ever likely to find out.

Not that she wanted to. She was here for Harry. That was all. She’d find out who Harry’s father was, and then she would leave again. Simple.

Funny, but it didn’t feel simple as she lowered Harry to his capsule.

Harry started to cry. He held onto Horsie tight and snuffled his face against the toy’s softness. It shocked her how that action pierced straight to her womb. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away. ‘Shh, Harry, it’s all right.’

Only they both knew it wasn’t. His mother was facing a three-year jail sentence, and his father was…Who was his father? Exhaustion swamped her, the sun beat down, and she could feel herself start to sway.

Liam moved forward, touched her arm. ‘Let’s get you both up to the homestead. You can freshen up and then we can talk.’

She nodded, then gestured to the capsule and Harry. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to sit in the back with him.’

‘Do whatever you need to do. We’re only a couple of kilometres from the homestead, so it’s not going to take long.’

The big cattle and sheep stations in the Outback placed their airstrips several kilometres from their homesteads as a fire precaution. She slid onto the back seat beside Harry with a grateful sigh. She was glad they didn’t have too far to go. She wasn’t sure she was up for much more travelling today.

Liam paused in the act of closing her door, another frown in his eyes. ‘When did you last eat?’

Food! Sapphie’s eyes lit up and her mouth started to water. ‘Ooh, ages and ages ago. Harry and I, we’d kill for a Vegemite sandwich—wouldn’t we, Harry?’

Harry didn’t smile, but he bobbed his head up and down in imitation of Sapphie.

A minor victory!

Unbelievably, Liam laughed.

A major victory! Sapphie tried not to gape. It made him look younger—a lot younger—and milder, in the same way the cliffs and valleys in the Kimberley ranges lost all their hard edges at twilight.

‘I’m sure we can rustle you up a couple of Vegemite sandwiches,’ he said before closing her door.

Sapphie did her best to catch her breath. She tried to convince herself it was the heat and dust that made it hard to breathe.

As she’d seen from the plane, the Newarra homestead was big…grand. The coolness of the white weatherboard was welcoming. The broad grandeur of the six wide stone steps that led up to the double front door hinted at a stability she had never experienced, of a home lovingly crafted to provide more than just shelter for its occupants. The shadiness of the deep verandas with their simple wooden balustrades beckoned.

A sigh whispered out of her. Everything about the homestead, even down to the rose garden, was designed to refresh and please the eye. The height of summer was long gone, but Sapphie could imagine the cool promise of the homestead shimmering in the heat of a midday sun, when temperatures soared in excess of forty degrees and dark clouds gathered oppressive on the horizon.

A square of lush green lawn surrounded it all. Bore water, Sapphie guessed, because no farmer out here would waste precious water resources on a lawn and garden.

Unless he had a wife and it meant a great deal to her. And he loved her very much.

Sapphie glanced at Liam. He brought the ute to a halt at the edge of the lawn. He didn’t drive around to the collection of buildings behind the homestead. She glanced back at his home. Did he have a wife?

He’d only mentioned a housekeeper. When she turned back, she found him watching her in the rearview mirror. ‘Your home is beautiful.’

‘It’s been in the family for generations.’

‘Do you have any family living with you at the moment?’

‘Getting nervous?’

It sounded like a taunt. She lifted her chin. ‘Just wondering what to expect, that’s all.’

He pushed out of the car, turned back and leant down to say, ‘It’s a bit late for those kinds of considerations, don’t you think?’ and then closed the door.

Sapphie unbuckled Harry’s capsule and climbed out too, met Liam’s eyes across the roof of the car. ‘It’s never too late to take other people’s feelings into consideration.’

He stilled, but with the sun in her face, and the brim of his hat shading his, she couldn’t see his expression let alone try and decipher it.

Before he could make any answer, an older woman—in her fifties, Sapphie guessed—came bustling out from the house. ‘Did my wools arrive?’ She pulled up short when she saw Sapphie.

‘Beattie, this is Sapphie Thomas and Harry.’ He glanced at Sapphie, but not at Harry. ‘They’ve come to stay…for a bit.’

Sapphie gulped. For a bit. She hadn’t thought how long this might take. As usual she’d leapt into action without thinking it through properly. But whenever she stopped to think things through—big things—she froze. Like she was doing now with Anna and Lea. She couldn’t afford to freeze where Harry was concerned.

She glanced down at him and he lifted his arms to her. Perhaps surrounded by strangers he now saw her as his only ally. ‘Oh, Harry,’ she whispered. How could she tell him he was putting his faith in the wrong person? She wanted to weep for him.

She lifted him out, cuddled him close.

Liam gestured. ‘This is Mrs Beatson—the housekeeper here at Newarra.’

She pasted on a bright smile when the older woman started across the lawn. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Beatson.’

‘Call me Beattie, my dear, everyone does. Mrs Beatson was my mother, God rest her. It’s lovely to have visitors.’ Her eyes lit up when they landed on Harry. ‘Ooh, and you’ve brought a littlie—what fun!’

But as she reached out a hand to Harry he threw his face into Sapphie’s neck with a cry. Sapphie wanted to apologise, but she didn’t get a chance. With a sympathetic tsk-tsk, Mrs Beatson murmured, ‘Poor little tyke. He’s all worn out.’ And she promptly set about abusing Liam for keeping Harry and Sapphie standing in the sun for so long.

Sapphie only had time to grab the bag containing Harry’s essentials before Mrs Beatson had taken her arm and was propelling her up the path towards the house. ‘Oh, but shouldn’t we help unload the car?’

‘Nonsense, dear, it’s what men have muscles for.’

That made Sapphie grin. All the same, she turned back to glance at Liam.

‘Beattie will show you to your room.’ His lips twisted. ‘Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.’

With a quiet nod, she turned and followed the housekeeper.

She let out a sigh of pure pleasure when they crossed the threshold. ‘Oh, Mrs Beatson—Beattie.’ She corrected herself at the housekeeper’s frown. ‘What a lovely home.’

Dark waxed floorboards and antique furniture greeted them, the dim shade a distinct relief after the glare of the sun outside. An overriding sense of peace and calm stole over her. It was ridiculous, she knew, but it felt as if nothing bad could happen in such a lovely place.

‘It’s so…big!’

‘It is at that.’ Beattie chuckled.

Sapphie swallowed as she followed the housekeeper into the kitchen—state of the art. Beattie set a kettle on to boil.

Sapphie moistened her lips. ‘It’s way too big for one person. Does Liam live here all by himself?’

‘He does at the moment, dear.’ Beattie turned pensive. ‘This is the family home, mind, so the rest of the family all have rooms here, but they haven’t visited in a while. At Christmas it can get quite rowdy, but…well, not last Christmas.’

Before Sapphie could ask why, Beattie beckoned to a door off to the left.

‘Those are my rooms down there if you need to find me. Now, let’s get you and this little man here settled.’

She led Sapphie down a long corridor—more waxed floorboards, softened by a Persian carpet runner in burgundy. She threw open a door at the end to reveal a beautifully appointed room with moulded cornices and French doors leading out to the shade of the veranda.

‘And here’s the attached nursery,’ Beattie said, leading her through an adjoining doorway.

‘Oh!’ Sapphie turned on the spot. Everything she and Harry could possibly want, even down to an antique wooden rocking horse, was here. ‘It’s lovely.’

Beattie gave a satisfied sigh. ‘This nursery has seen four generations of Stapleton children. Liam and Belinda had it redecorated.’

‘Umm…Belinda?’

Beattie shook her head. ‘Sorry, dear, I’m prattling on, aren’t I? We haven’t had visitors in an age and I’ve forgotten how to act.’ Her voice lowered a notch. ‘Belinda was Liam’s wife. They divorced a few years back. He’s a good man. He didn’t deserve that.’ She stared at Harry and her smile broadened again. ‘Oh, my, but it warms the heart to have a child in the house again, let me tell you. And don’t you worry, dear. Nobody will disturb you down this end of the house. Liam hasn’t visited these rooms since—’

She broke off. Sapphie had to bite her tongue to stop from asking Since when?

‘You’ll have to excuse an old woman’s ramblings. ’

‘There’s nothing to excuse,’ Sapphie said with a determined smile and a shake of her head.

‘Now, the bathroom is just down the hall. And don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.’

‘Thank you.’

Beattie disappeared, leaving Sapphie and Harry alone. And it suddenly occurred to Sapphie that not only was Liam not Harry’s father, but he no longer had a wife either, which meant he was a single man.

Her mouth went dry. She eyed the phone on the bedside table, bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk to Anna—not yet, not after everything she’d just found out. But for safety’s sake someone needed to know where she and Harry were.

She hauled in a breath and forced herself to pick up the receiver. As long as she didn’t have to look Anna in the eye, she should be able to lie convincingly enough. If Anna sensed that something was wrong, Sapphie could simply say she was worried about Harry and Emmy. Which was the truth. In part.

Sapphie bathed Harry and dressed him in clean clothes. He didn’t exactly co-operate, but he didn’t fight her either.

She tried telling herself it was an improvement, a step forward for little Harry. Common sense told her he was just too tired at the moment to kick up a fuss.

She had to find his father. She had to find someone who could look after him properly and give him everything he needed. She had to remove herself from his world before he started to rely on her…before she tainted him too. She wasn’t the kind of woman who should be trusted with the care of a child.

A lump lodged in her throat as she stared at him. He was so little. He was such an innocent. And he didn’t deserve any of this! Longing welled through her. She did what she could to banish it.

With a gulp, she kicked herself back into action—showered in double-quick time, pulled on clean clothes, and then towel-dried her hair, tugged a comb through it. Neat, tidy, clean—that was all the occasion called for.

She started towards Harry, who lay in the middle of the queen-sized bed. She pulled up short, bit her lip, cast a glance at the door. Not the smallest spark of sexual interest had lightened Liam’s eyes when they’d rested on her. Not at the airstrip. Not in the car. And she’d like to keep it that way.

She pulled a cotton sweater from her suitcase, tugged it on over her head. She adjusted the long sleeves, fastened the three buttons at the collar. Jared, via Anna, had told her Liam was a good man. Beattie and Sid had both said the same thing. It was what her instincts told her too. She prayed that none of them had been deceived.

Liam shot to his feet the moment he realised Sapphie hovered in the doorway. He wasn’t sure what had alerted him to her presence. Her fragrance, perhaps? She smelt of peaches.

‘Come in.’

She took a few hesitant steps into the living room. Her hair was damp, as if she’d just showered. Perhaps she used peach-scented shampoo?

She wore a clean pair of jeans and a shirt that had to be at least three sizes too big. She balanced Harry on one hip and clutched a baby bottle full of milk in her other hand. With a piece of terry cloth in the most vivid orange tossed over her shoulder she shouldn’t look sexy.

She didn’t!

He pushed the thought right out of his head as soon as he was aware of thinking it. He didn’t give two hoots what Sapphie Thomas looked like.

He gritted his teeth. He didn’t need a woman like this at Newarra. He didn’t need any woman. He forced himself to focus on the bright cloth and nothing else.

She reached up a hand to finger it. ‘Do you know they make nappies in the most amazing range of colours now? I like them loads more than the plain old white ones, don’t you?’

He didn’t know what to say. A nappy was a nappy, as far as he was concerned. ‘You need to change him?’

She shook her head. ‘This—’ she pulled the nappy from her shoulder and glanced around the room at its vast array of sofas and armchairs ‘—is to save your furniture.’

‘It’s survived generations of children. No doubt it’ll survive generations more.’

‘Yeah, but only through the hard work of women like Beattie. If I can save her any work, then I will.’

For some reason that made him want to smile. ‘She’d think it a small price to pay for having a child in the house again, believe me.’ He glanced at Harry, and any desire he had to smile fled. He didn’t need a child at Newarra either. ‘You didn’t want to put him down for a nap?’

Her gaze darted away. ‘He’s unsettled. I wanted to keep an eye on him.’

He took a step towards her, noted the dark circles under her eyes and remembered how she’d said she hadn’t slept in two days. Suddenly he wished she could have all the sleep she needed. He could go and work on that new brumby for a couple of hours, as he’d planned before she’d turned up on his doorstep…or rather airstrip. They could talk once she was rested.

He opened his mouth, but she got in first. ‘May I take a seat?’

He deliberately hardened his heart, warned himself against going soft…especially where a woman was concerned. He and Sapphie Thomas had too much to sort out. He had too much to find out.

‘Of course…please.’ He motioned her further into the room and pointed to a sofa. ‘That one is particularly comfortable.’ And, from his armchair, it would afford him a good view of her face.

He watched her settle Harry back against the cushions, the orange nappy arranged around him. Liam kept his eyes on Sapphie’s face. It was easier than looking at Harry. His jaw tightened. The furniture at the Newarra homestead might survive several more generations of children, but none of those children would be his.

Some of the tension seeped out of him, though, as he continued to watch Sapphie. She was easy on the eye. She might not be conventionally beautiful—her mouth was too wide and her jaw too square—but her features were mobile and constantly changing, a play of light and shadow. Though perhaps there was more shadow than light at the moment. He frowned.

If she was aware of his scrutiny she gave no sign of it. Oversized sweater, buttons fastened again. She was telling him in no uncertain terms—hands off.

His lips tightened. That suited him fine. She didn’t need to tell him twice.

She showed Harry his bottle…smiled and talked nonsense…sighed when he didn’t respond. Harry took his bottle, though, rolling onto his side and suckling eagerly. Which reminded Liam…

‘Beattie made us a pot of tea and some Vegemite sandwiches.’ He lifted the plate of sandwiches towards her.

‘Ooh, yum!’ She seized one and bit into it. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, because I mean to eat this with more gusto than grace,’ she said, mouth half full.

He’d have smiled, but as he watched her devour half a sandwich and then reach for another his heart started to burn. ‘When did you last eat?’

‘Last night.’

He leapt up. ‘That’s not—’

He broke off when she put a finger to her lips and gestured to Harry. The child’s eyes were closed. In repose, Harry’s face lost its wariness. Liam’s heart burned harder. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch the child—make sure he was real. The greater part of him shied away.

Sapphie’s voice hauled him back. ‘When I found out the mail plane was doing its run today I didn’t have time for breakfast. And, while I grabbed plenty of supplies for the trip, both Harry and I felt a bit queasy on the plane.’

Liam opened his mouth, but she’d pre-empted his next question. ‘And, yes, we both drank plenty of water. Neither one of us is dehydrated.’

He sank back into his chair. Then slid forward to pour the tea. If she hadn’t eaten since last night…‘How do you take your tea?’

‘White and two, thanks.’

He handed her a cup, and then watched in fascination as she swallowed it down in three swigs. Beattie had used the good china—the cups were tiny. He poured her a second cup as she finished the rest of her sandwich. He held out the plate towards her again.

She took the cup with a murmured, ‘Thank you,’ but declined another sandwich. He set the plate back to the coffee table, aware of a vague sense of disappointment—it had given him a certain satisfaction to feed her.

She took a measured sip of her tea, eyeing him over its rim, and then straightened as if refusing to surrender to the sofa’s beckoning softness. She set the cup on the coffee table. ‘Liam, who do you think is Harry’s father?’

She didn’t want to make small talk, and he didn’t blame her. They didn’t have anything small to talk about. Harry might be small in stature, but not in any other sense of the word. She wanted answers.

Who did he suspect was Harry’s father? He dragged a hand down his face. Lucas, that was who. He bit back an oath. What a mess!

He stared back at her, tried to keep his voice measured, his breathing even. ‘I suspect that the child there is my nephew.’