by Valerie Parv
Tom arched his eyebrows. “You mean when there’s a virile Aussie bloke like you around? Mate, it’s your pets she can’t handle.”
Blake grinned. “Leave my crocodiles out of this.”
“Boys,” Des chided as he’d done when they were teenagers. “If she had any sense, she’d pick a handsome, eligible widower with a bit of gray in his hair as a sign of his great wisdom.”
Blake laughed. “I thought that bristle-haired British anthropologist in the tour group was going to race you off first.”
Strictly speaking, the group from a leading British university weren’t tourists, but had come to Diamond Downs to document the Uru site. They’d paid handsomely for the privilege, and that was enough for Tom. A sign of things to come, he hoped. Their fees had already put a dent in the money Des owed Max Horvath. Their neighbor hadn’t been pleased to receive the check, Tom recalled, and had reminded them the whole amount had to be paid within six months, or he’d still be entitled to foreclose.
That left them four more months, Tom thought as he fastened the last of the lights to the side of the house facing the courtyard. They’d make it. Andy and the elders of his clan had already begun to paint a replica of the ancient rock art at a place where visitors could see it. Since the media broke the news about the discovery, bookings to stay at the homestead and hear the stories of the Uru were coming in. Tom could see an improvement in Des already. While hope couldn’t provide him with the new heart he needed, it might keep him alive until a transplant was available.
Six weeks had gone by in which Tom and Shara had traveled to Q’aresh. He couldn’t remember when he’d been more nervous. King Awad had greeted him warily, the welcome only thawing in the face of Tom’s obvious love for Shara and hers for him.
Tom’s case hadn’t been harmed by Shara’s explanation of his role in saving her from Jamal. The king hadn’t dismissed Shara’s concerns, as she’d believed, but had sent Jamal to Australia while he conducted an investigation. Shocked to learn she had traveled with Jamal, the king hadn’t known what was going on. Once King Awad heard the tape of evidence against Jamal and his co-conspirators, their fate had been sealed.
Finally, King Awad had given Shara and Tom his blessing, insisting on giving them a royal wedding in Q’aresh and decreeing the traditional two hundred days of ritual engagement underway.
A royal wedding for the boy from the wrong side of the tracks still seemed like a dream, although Tom wasn’t sure how he’d cope with all the pomp and circumstance. Blake hadn’t gotten over the king wanting to make Tom a prince. He was afraid he’d never hear the end of that. Or from Judy, who’d called him Your Highness for days, until he’d threatened to feed her to one of Blake’s crocs.
The object of his thoughts came out with a cloth she proceeded to spread across the trestle table. “Typical,” Judy mumbled. “The men get the easy jobs while Shara and I slave over a hot stove.”
Tom injected mock horror into his tone. “You’re letting her cook?”
“I heard that,” Shara said, coming out to join them. “I’ll have you know my second attempt at making sponge cake turned out perfectly.”
Love for her twined around his heart so tightly he had trouble breathing. “What happened to the first attempt?”
She screwed up her face. “Don’t ask.”
He came down the ladder to her. “I wish you didn’t have to work at all.”
Her expression softened. “When I had servants, I wasn’t nearly as happy as I am now. All I want is you, and our children growing up in this wide brown land.”
He pulled her against him. “How did I get so lucky, finding you?”
She shook her head. “I’m the lucky one.”
Blake maneuvered a trestle table past them. “Pardon me, Your Highnesses, but the peasants need to get this set up before the guests arrive.” He turned to Des. “Is that journalist of yours joining us tonight?”
Des shook his head. “Under the terms of our agreement, she’s only supposed to come near the homestead in a life-or-death emergency.”
Judy shook out a large checkered tablecloth for the second table. “An engagement party hardly qualifies. How long does she have to spend living off the land to get her story?”
“Two months,” Blake contributed. The magazine’s editor had approached Des with the idea for a survivor-type story after learning about the rock art. “Don’t feel too sorry for her. I helped her set up camp and she brought enough stuff for a year.”
Tom laughed. “All the same, it’s a challenge for a city girl to transplant herself to the outback, out of contact with civilization for that length of time. Her idea of roughing it is probably turning off her side of the electric blanket.”
“I don’t know. Jo looks as if she can handle most things.”
Tom traded looks with Shara. “Jo?” he asked.
“Don’t start. All I did was walk her through a few survival skills.”
“Like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?”
“That does it.” Blake moved Shara carefully aside and shaped up to his foster brother.
Not in the least alarmed, Shara felt a thrill of pleasure at being so accepted. She looked forward to meeting their foster brother, Cade, who was flying in from Perth for the engagement party later that day. Meeting the fourth brother, Ryan, would have to wait until he recovered from a heavy dose of flu. He couldn’t risk infecting Des in his present state.
Judy slid between the men. “Could you two work off your surplus energy by setting up the barbecue?” She turned to Shara. “They’ll probably still be carrying on like this when they’re ninety.”
Shara smiled. “I certainly hope so.”
The cloth flew as Judy flicked it expertly across the table. “I suppose it’s better than turning out bitter and twisted like Max Horvath.”
Hearing the name, Tom paused in the act of folding the ladder. “Is he hanging around again?”
Judy shook her head. “Not lately. After the threats he made at the cave, I was afraid he might try to sabotage the anthropologists’ visit.”
“Max may not have been around, but Andy’s folks told him they saw Eddy Gilgai hanging around Dingo Creek,” Tom said.
Blake’s expression darkened. “What the blazes was he doing there?”
Tom propped the ladder against a wall. “Nothing good, you can bet.”
He’d moved closer to Shara without realizing it, she noticed. “Isn’t Dingo Creek where the journalist is camped?”
Blake swore. “I’d better get down there and make sure everything’s all right.”
“Any excuse to see Jo-o,” Tom simpered, turning the one-syllable name into a singsong note.
“I think you should check on her, son,” Des contributed seriously. “Max wasn’t pleased when I paid the first installment off the loan. Jo’s magazine made no secret that they’re paying a hefty fee to use Diamond Downs for their story. Max might have hatched some scheme to make sure we don’t collect.”
Tom’s arm tightened around Shara, thinking of the harm their neighbor had nearly done her by aiding Jamal. The latter was now in prison in Q’aresh, awaiting trial for treason, but Max was still free and more determined than ever to get his hands on the lost diamond mine said to exist on Logan land. He was quite capable of putting Eddy Gilgai up to sabotaging the journalist’s visit if he thought it would achieve his aim.
He’d have to go through every member of the Logan family first. “Want me to come with you as backup?” Tom asked Blake.
“If I do, I’ll call you. Look after your beautiful bride-to-be, and hold the fort till I get back,” Blake said.
He had taken barely a dozen steps when Andy Wandarra intercepted him, breathing heavily as if he’d been running. “You’d better come quick, Blake. A big crocodile is causing trouble at Dingo Creek. We think somebody’s been provoking him.”
“Somebody meaning Eddy?” When Andy nodded, Blake looked at Tom and Des. “Sounds as if you were right, Max hasn’t give
n up yet. Handling the croc is my job. No need to let it spoil everybody’s night.”
Lines of concern bracketed Tom’s mouth. “Just don’t do anything foolish. I’m here if you need me.”
“Can’t do anything more foolish than get engaged.” Blake’s smile swung from Tom to Shara. “It’ll be good to hand over Tom’s leash to his wife. After taming him, a rogue crocodile will be a piece of cake.”
Shara’s radiant expression rejected Blake’s claim. She didn’t want Tom tamed. She loved him just as he was, as Tom McCullough and Barrak, the white dingo. They would deal with the crocodile problem the way Des Logan’s family handled most challenges, head-on. If Max was behind the threat, they would deal with him too, and she’d do whatever she could to help.
Sliding her hand into Tom’s, she squeezed it hard, sending a message of love and solidarity. “Do you think Horvath has any idea what he’s taken on here?”
Tom shook his head. “No, but he’s about to find out.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7353-9
HEIR TO DANGER
Copyright © 2004 by Valerie Parv
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