The Shy Socialite
Page 15
It was a short flight and one that still brought back some hair-raising memories, despite her having flown it with Brett several times since their plane had crashed. But, by the time they landed at the station Brett had bought for her as a wedding present, she’d long since been in no doubt as to where they were going.
This time they didn’t ride the distance between the homestead and Tommy’s Hut on a horse, they drove in a powerful, tough four-wheel-drive and reached their destination before sunset.
And there were other changes. Someone had been there before them. Someone had chopped the firewood and piled it up handily. Someone had provided camp chairs and a blow-up mattress. Someone had left an esky with champagne and foodstuffs in it.
All the same, Holly looked around with tears in her eyes, at the water lilies, the birds and the palms. ‘I never, never thought I’d come back. Thank you.’ She went into his arms.
‘Did you like your wedding?’ he enquired, holding her close.
‘I loved it. How about you?’
‘Same. Well,’ he said after kissing her thoroughly, with a sudden little wicked glint in his eye, ‘how about a swim, then a fish? We have two reels now, and I’m determined to out-fish you.’
Holly lifted her head from his shoulder. ‘Oh! We’ll see about that!’
But later, much later, when the fire had died down and they were lying in each other’s arms, all forms of competitiveness had left them and they were awash with a lovely form of contentment.
‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I thought two nights here, then a trip to Africa. Or anywhere on earth you’d like to go, Mrs Wyndham.’
Holly breathed happily. ‘I wondered when the mud hut and a herd of giraffe were going to make an appearance in my life!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TWO years later they were sitting on a beach watching the moon rise and holding hands.
But this beach wasn’t in the middle of nowhere; it was Palm Cove, and they’d come down from Haywire for a very important appointment.
It was a magic evening. The moon hung in the sky like a silver Christmas bauble. The sea was a slightly darker blue than the sky, apart from its ribbon of reflected moonlight, and you felt as if you could reach out and touch Double Island again.
It had been a magic two years since she’d married Brett Wyndham, Holly thought. Busy, productive and fulfilling.
His zoo was no longer a dream, it was a reality, and she’d taken part in a lot of the planning and the doing of it. Haywire was now very much home to her, although they spent time in Brisbane and they travelled extensively.
Yes, she conceded, there’d been some ups and downs—and she’d decided it was not possible to go through a marriage without them—but if anything they were growing ever closer.
And she felt confident that Brett had got over his fears that he was going down the path his father had trod.
Curiously, or perhaps not so curiously, it was her mother who’d put it into words only a few days ago.
When Holly had rung her full of delighted suspicions, Sylvia had said, ‘You were right, darling—about Brett and believing in him.’
‘You can tell now?’ Holly had queried.
‘Of course. Would you be so happy otherwise?’
‘No.’
Now on the beach at Palm Cove, after an appointment in Cairns with a gynaecologist that had confirmed her pregnancy, Holly patted her stomach and said a little anxiously, ‘Are you really thrilled at this news?’
‘Of course.’ He released her hand and put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? I like kids, and our kids will be special.’
She smiled, but it faded. ‘But it means—it does mean we’ll be tied down a bit. You see, I’ve got the feeling I’m going to be a pretty hands-on mother, and that will cut down on travelling and so on.’
‘Holly.’ Brett put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘When will you accept that it’s where you are that counts for me? Nothing else.’
And he stared down into the deep blue of her eyes with complete concentration in his own.
‘Still? I mean, it hasn’t worn off a bit or…?’
‘Still. Always,’ he said very quietly. ‘Don’t doubt it, Holly.’
She breathed deeply and went into his arms.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1667-9
THE SHY SOCIALITE
First North American Publication 2011
Copyright © 2010 by Lindsay Armstrong
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