The Cattleman, The Baby and Me

by Michelle Douglas

Sapphie swallowed back a lump. Poor Lucas. And poor Emmy.

  ‘Liam, what happened to Lucas…it was tragic and awful. But you—your mum and dad, your brother and sister—you did everything you could to help him, to make things easier for him. It’s unfair to expect more of yourselves. What Lucas did was his choice, his decision. It wasn’t your fault.’

  Liam didn’t say anything, but his eyes burned into hers.

  She reached across the table and touched his hand. ‘Oh, but he sounds like such fun! No wonder Emmy fell for him. And no wonder you miss him so much.’

  With that she got up and left the room before she did something really stupid—like walk around the table to kiss him. They’d both agreed that could never happen again.

  For some reason, though, she couldn’t get the thought of it out of her head.

  ‘I can tell you’re dying for a canter.’

  It wasn’t a question but a statement. Sapphie glanced at Liam and shrugged as they rode back into the yard. ‘I’m perfectly happy.’ With Harry on board neither one of them broke into anything faster than a trot.

  The past four days had slid by with halcyon ease, and Sapphie swore there must be magic in the air at Newarra because there were so many joyful things to give thanks for.

  For a start there was the way Harry no longer screamed when he woke from a nap and she wasn’t there. He’d happily gabble away to his toys until she collected him from his cot. Then there was the way he’d started to crawl about the kitchen, the living room, the garden—in fact anywhere they put him down—with a newfound boldness and confidence that gladdened her heart.

  Good things. Joyful things. Happy things.

  Like the way the lines on Liam’s face had started to fade, and the ease with which he could throw his head back now and laugh. The love that shone in his eyes whenever they rested on Harry.

  The desire in them when they rested on her.

  No, no…not desire! Gratitude, perhaps, and friendliness. That was what it was—friendliness. They were spending a lot of time together at the moment, that was all.

  Most afternoons they took Jasper and Miss Lil out to explore the inner boundary of the property. What at first looked like an unending plain of red rock and spiky native grasses hid billabongs and native flowers, caves and fossils—places of wild beauty. The waterhole—a ten-minute ride upstream from where they’d first paddled with Harry—had made her gasp with longing.

  A deep pool carved out of rock and filled with crystal-pure water, it was a tranquil, secret place. A waterfall trickled down from the rocks above. She’d wanted to dive in to test the clear coolness, to become a part of it. She’d wished they’d brought swimming costumes. But when she’d glanced across at the firm leanness that was Liam she’d thought maybe it was best that they hadn’t.

  Because, although she didn’t want to admit it, heat flared between them at odd moments. A heat neither one of them was prepared to do anything about. A heat that had her tossing and turning at night. And, as she and Liam retired almost as soon as they’d finished dinner, there was a lot of night to toss and turn in.

  ‘Rob!’

  At Liam’s shout, she blinked herself back into the present.

  Rob appeared, and Liam handed Harry down to him. Sapphie held her breath. Rob had been at great pains to make friends with Harry in the last few days. He’d confided to Sapphie that he had six younger siblings and, although he hadn’t said anything, she could tell he missed them. Harry didn’t cry. He smiled.

  He smiled!

  ‘C’mon,’ Liam said.

  With a grin, he wheeled Jasper around and set off at a canter. Sapphie cast one glance at Harry—a happy Harry—and then with a cry of jubilation set off after Liam.

  Her blood pumped and her spirits soared. The fact Harry felt secure enough to make friends with Rob had her heart expanding, giving her all the excuse she needed to throw herself fully into the wild exhilaration of a canter.

  ‘Oh, that was wonderful!’ she said, when they finally pulled their horses to a halt in the yard again. She beamed at Liam, and then at Harry and Rob. ‘It’s like flying!’

  Harry waved his arms and gave a big baby laugh. She laughed too as she dismounted. ‘Ooh, wouldn’t you love to try that, mister? Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until you’re older.’

  ‘When he’s older,’ Rob said, handing him over to take Miss Lil’s reins, ‘he’ll put us all to shame. I’ll take care of the horses, boss,’ he added, moving to take Jasper’s reins too.

  ‘Thanks, Rob.’ Liam swung to Sapphie. ‘Here, I’ll take Harry. He’s starting to get heavy.’

  She handed him over without a murmur or a pang. She enjoyed seeing them together too much now for that. Her blood danced in her veins as they strolled back to the house. She could barely contain herself to a walk. She wanted to dance and skip. ‘Ooh, I loved that!’

  Liam’s grin reached all the way down to curl her toes. ‘I kind of noticed.’

  ‘You know, I think I’m going to have to get a little piece of land on the outskirts of Perth somewhere, with a little cottage, and a horse and chickens, and…’ Her words petered out. She didn’t want to think about her life away from here just yet. A life without Harry. When she glanced across, though, it was Liam her eyes rested on first. ‘Perhaps when I win the Lottery,’ she gulped.

  Liam stared straight out to the front, his lips an uncompromising line. ‘Perhaps you’ll just have to visit Newarra and Jarndirri more often.’

  She’d have smiled, because his words sounded more like an order than a suggestion, but it suddenly hit her that she had to leave Newarra—and soon. She’d let herself forget that over the last few days. ‘Perhaps that’s the answer,’ she managed.

  She guessed her words hadn’t emerged as cheerily as she’d meant them to, because his gaze speared her, the laser-like blue of his eyes trying to plumb her soul. She turned away before he could see too much, and discovered they’d mounted the veranda’s back steps without her realising it.

  ‘I’ll go clean Harry up and put him down for his nap, and then it’s caramel milkshakes in the usual spot if you’re up for it.’ She took Harry. ‘Unless there’s paperwork you need to get done?’ A time out from each other might be a good thing.

  Liam eased back, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. ‘There’s nothing that can’t wait.’ One corner of his mouth kicked up. ‘Caramel milkshakes sound…perfect.’

  While he spoke, his blue eyes travelled over her in slow appraisal. It made her instantly aware of how she’d defiantly tossed her oversized shirt back into her suitcase today. Perhaps that had been premature? Provocative?

  But she knew the shirt wouldn’t have made a difference—not to the way she felt and not to the way Liam treated her.

  ‘That canter has put some colour in your cheeks.’ He pushed the door open for her with a kind of lazy, knowing grace. ‘I’ll let you see to Harry, then, shall I?’

  He grinned—one of those slow, sexy numbers he’d grown so adept at lately—as if he knew the effect he was having on her. She kicked herself into action. ‘Uh, right.’ And then fled.

  She dawdled over changing Harry’s nappy, in cleaning his hands and face, and in singing to him as he settled down to his nap. Not only because she needed the time to gather her scattered wits, but because she meant to treasure every last one of her moments with him.

  They’d have to last her a long time once she returned to Perth.

  When his breathing grew slow and rhythmic, she finally turned away. She paused in her bedroom doorway, straightened her shirt and mentally girded her loins. ‘Caramel milkshakes,’ she murmured. ‘Easy-peasy.’

  She’d keep it light and fun. No heat.

  She blew out a breath. No sweat.

  She strode along the corridor—chin up, shoulders back. She closed her eyes and dragged in a breath. She opened them and—

  Oh! She skidded to a halt, coming within millimetres of slamming smack-bang into Liam’s ne
ar-naked body as he emerged from the bathroom. And she had no hope of fighting back the heat that spiralled through her. No hope at all.

  He wore a towel—nothing else. It covered the essentials, but only just, because it rode so low on his hips that, with an oath, he had to grab at it and haul it up.

  Fresh from the shower, his hair gleamed darker, curling at his neck and behind his ears. She watched a stray droplet of water trickle down the strong column of his throat to his collarbone and her mouth went dry.

  Dark hair curled across his chest and her fingers itched to reach out and touch. That sculpted chest, the muscles in those shoulders and arms, were the result of hard physical labour. That deep golden tan told her that some mornings Liam did that hard physical labour minus his shirt.

  Her limbs went languid. Her eyes followed the spattering of hair trailing down his stomach to disappear beneath the line of the towel—a flat stomach, lean hips…powerful thighs. She couldn’t have summoned up a more outstanding example of masculine perfection if she’d tried. She had to grip her hands in front of her to stop from reaching out and touching. She knew what he’d feel like—firm and silken. And hot.

  ‘Sapphie?’

  ‘Hmm…?’ She couldn’t drag her gaze away.

  ‘Sapphie!’

  The sharp tone made her blink, forced her to drag her gaze up to his face. That wasn’t any hardship. His face was as beautiful as the rest of him. Lean and hard, but beautiful.

  He swept his hand over his hair. ‘If you don’t stop looking at me like that—’

  She stared at his fingers, imagined them trailing a path over her body—discovering, teasing…pleasing. Her breath caught. It would be magic to—

  ‘Sapphie!’

  She forced herself to focus on his face again. She stared at him dumbly.

  Yikes! What she was doing! She stepped back so fast she whacked the back of her head on the wall behind. She didn’t even wince. She turned and fled to the kitchen.

  Oh! She pressed her hands to her cheeks. She pulled them away to wring them. She turned in a circle. Caramel milkshakes—that was what she should be doing, making. She stared about the kitchen, but she couldn’t seem to fix her eyes on a single item. She gave up and sped out through the living room’s French doors to collapse on the bench outside. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them, concentrated on slowing her breathing.

  ‘You want to talk about that?’

  Sapphie practically jumped out of her skin. Her feet hit the boards with a thud as she spun on the bench.

  Liam stood in the doorway—not nearly naked, thank heavens. He wore denim jeans and a polo shirt. His feet were bare, which would explain why she hadn’t heard him. Though she had a feeling that if Liam didn’t want to be heard he wouldn’t be heard, regardless of what he wore on his feet.

  ‘No, of course I don’t want to talk about that!’ She found herself on her feet, shaking. She forced herself to sit again. She couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Why would I want to talk about what a fool I just made of myself?’

  She dragged both hands through her hair. ‘Heck, Liam, if you’d ogled me like that I’d have had your hide.’

  But she’d never known she could desire a man again, let alone crave one the way she craved Liam. She couldn’t act upon it…oh, no, no. But she didn’t know how on earth she was supposed to deal with it. Or how to hide the effect he had on her.

  Liam settled on the other end of the bench from her. Embarrassment surged through her so thick she could barely stand to glance at him.

  ‘Sapphie, what you’re feeling, experiencing…it’s normal, you know?’

  ‘Normal?’ She pushed the word out between gritted teeth. ‘That wasn’t normal. A…a teenage girl—a teenage boy!—would’ve shown more finesse, more manners, than I just did.’ She turned. ‘You don’t feel it. Not like that!’

  ‘Don’t feel it?’ He gaped at her. ‘The way you were looking at me made me so hot I thought the skin would blister from my body!’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘I…’ She dragged it back up, realising his admission didn’t help.

  ‘Your body has needs. Needs you’ve denied for the last seven years. They’ve flared up now, for whatever reason, and it’s taken you off guard. So, yes, Sapphie, what you’re feeling is normal.’

  ‘I don’t want normal,’ she wailed. ‘I want to go back to how it was before.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a sign.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘That it’s time for you to move on, start dating again.’

  She stared at him in horror. ‘Oh, no, no, no.’ She shook her head. Once. Twice. Hard. But it suddenly hit her—when once finding herself alone with a near-naked man would have induced terror, seeing Liam in nothing but a towel…

  No terror. Not even the faintest tingling of alarm. Self-preservation hadn’t even come into the equation.

  ‘Sapphie, you’re young, you’re lovely. You deserve to find the man of your dreams.’

  ‘There’s no such thing. He doesn’t exist.’ Her voice wobbled, though, revealing her sudden lack of certainty. ‘Besides, I have dated.’ She’d chosen safety in numbers—gone out in a group a few times, a couple of times even double-dated. She’d never let anything happen between her and any of the guys she’d dated, though. She’d made sure she’d never been left alone with them.

  Liam leant towards her, his eyes warm and his smile kind, as if he knew exactly the kind of dates she’d been on. ‘Any man worth his salt would take his time, Sapphie. He wouldn’t rush you. He’d go slow.’

  It was as if he’d tapped into all her fears and could see each and every one of them. Would Liam take his time? The thought made her slow burn.

  ‘What that man did to you, Sapphie, it was a terrible thing. I’m not trying to downplay it, but don’t define your life based on that one experience. Don’t let the badness win.’

  Start dating again? Her throat went tight. All her limbs went languid. ‘That’s fine talk coming from you, Mr I’m-never-going-to-marry-again.’ The criticism implicit in her words was lost through her sheer breathlessness, though.

  He grinned. ‘I’m older than you, remember? I’ve already had my fair share of dates.’

  ‘Right,’ she muttered.

  He reached out and took her hand. Her tongue plastered itself to the roof of her mouth.

  ‘All I’m saying is that I think you should mull it over, not dismiss it out of hand.’

  She couldn’t unglue her tongue—not while he held her hand—so she just shrugged and nodded.

  ‘Good.’ He released her hand and rose. ‘I better take a rain-check on that milkshake. There’s a few things I need to sort out with my overseer.’

  She kept her gaze stoically to the front, and didn’t watch him as he strode along the veranda and down the steps. Start dating again? She swallowed. A week ago that would have been out of the question. Her pulse started to race. But now…

  CHAPTER TEN

  LIAM stared at the calendar on his desk. He abandoned the accounts to seize it. Three days! There were only three days left of his and Sapphie’s agreement. That couldn’t be right, surely? She’d only just arrived.

  He counted back. Sapphie had been at Newarra for almost two whole weeks. Such a short time, but…but a part of him felt as if it had known her for ever.

  He pushed that thought away. It implied a level of intimacy he had no intention of exploring.

  He replaced the calendar. Three days left, and he had no idea yet what she thought would be best for Harry.

  A solid weight settled in the middle of his chest. He could provide a good home for Harry. She had to see that. She had to.

  The thought of being separated from Harry now… Bile rose in his throat. He loved his nephew with a fierceness that shocked him. The same way Sapphie loved Harry, he acknowledged.

  He pressed his fingers to his eyes and deliberately recalled each and every one of the charges she’d levelled at him when he’d revealed tha
t he wanted to adopt Harry. He drummed his fingers. He’d changed. He’d prove it to her. They’d… They’d go on a picnic. He glanced at his watch—right now!

  He’d show her how much fun he could be, how easygoing. He’d show her what a wonderful home he could give Harry.

  He made rolls out of towels and swimsuits. Sapphie was shorter than Lacey, and a little smaller, but he figured one of Lacey’s old swimming costumes would fit her just fine. He grabbed saddlebags and made for the kitchen.

  Sapphie glanced up from making the men’s lunches. ‘Finished already?’

  He’d told her he was doing the accounts rather than mending cattleyards today. Mustering would start in earnest soon, and he wanted everything else under control before then.

  Harry was far more important than the accounts, though.

  Harry crawled across to Liam. Gripping handfuls of denim, he pulled himself up to a standing position and stood there, balanced against Liam’s leg, grinning proudly. Liam’s heart practically fell out of his chest.

  ‘Hey, Tiger!’ He picked him up and tossed him in the air until Harry chortled with glee. It was Sapphie’s grin that speared into his gut, though.

  ‘I’m over the accounts,’ he muttered, suddenly self-conscious. ‘I thought we might skive off and have a picnic. What do you think?’

  ‘I…’ He wasn’t sure if she was searching for a reason to say yes, or a reason to say no. Her eyes rested on Harry and her whole face softened. It stayed soft when she glanced back at Liam. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea.’

  He let out the breath he’d been holding. ‘Great. I’m starving, and something smells good in here!’ He felt as awkward as a teenager on a first date.

  He shuffled back a pace, rolled his shoulders. This wasn’t a date.

  Sapphie set a basket on the table, covered it with a cloth. ‘That’s the men’s lunches made. Just give me ten minutes to put our lunch together and grab a couple of things for Harry, and then we’ll be set to go.’

  ‘No rush.’ She wore stretch denim jeans that fitted her to perfection, and a faded blue T-shirt that somehow picked out the blonde highlights in her hair. Liam’s skin went tight. Some time in the last few days she’d stopped wearing those baggy sweaters and over-sized shirts.