The Australians Convenient Bride

by Lindsay Armstrong

  Chattie bit into a piece of toast and frowned but said nothing.

  ‘How much of your school holidays have you got to go?’ he asked then.

  His intentions began to dawn on Chattie and she took a sudden breath. ‘Uh—just over three weeks.’

  ‘You did tell me you were a girl of many domesticated talents. Not to put too fine a point on it, you could help me out of a bit of a hole, Chattie Winslow, but don’t,’ he said as she opened her mouth to speak, ‘imagine it would be a one way street. I would be more than happy to pay for your time.’

  ‘Just what are you offering me?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘A temporary position as Slim’s replacement.’

  She chewed her lip.

  ‘You did come up here to see a working cattle station, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes. But…’ She trailed off disjointedly for the good reason that she was thinking furiously. Had the opportunity to stay on until she discovered where Mark was simply fallen into her lap?

  ‘What’s the difference?’ He raised his eyebrows ironically.

  ‘Mark would have been here, should have been here,’ she said at last, then continued with more composure. ‘It is completely different. I don’t know you from a bar of soap—’

  ‘Oh, come on, surely the old bar of soap doesn’t wash,’ he said with a tinge of impatience. ‘You’ve had dinner with me, met my crazy cousin, you know my brother as you keep telling me—and you’ve just helped me to save someone’s life.’

  She hesitated as she wondered how to play it. Too much eagerness might arouse his already heightened suspicions of her… In the end she opted for, ‘I don’t like you. You don’t like me.’

  His lips twisted. ‘It wouldn’t be for long and I’m not suggesting we go to bed together, merely that you do a bit of housekeeping for me.’

  Her eyes flashed, causing him to smile faintly.

  She put down her plate and reached for her coffee. ‘Aren’t you worried about me pinching the silver?’

  ‘No—’

  ‘You were last night.’

  ‘That was—’ he looked amused ‘—a shot designed to annoy you more than the conviction you were a thief. And who knows?’ he added idly. ‘Mark might even turn up.’

  The silence stretched as Chattie battled with her nervous tension at the thought of living with and working for this man, and weighed it against the possibility of securing her sister’s future in some way.

  ‘I pay well,’ Steve Kinane added idly.

  ‘What makes you think that’s a consideration with me,’ she asked with hauteur.

  He shrugged. ‘Just thought I’d mention it to reinforce the fact that we’re talking about a business agreement.’

  She eyed him. ‘How much?’

  He named a weekly figure, which, considering her food and board were all found, was astonishing.

  ‘Is that how much you paid Slim?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘No, I paid him more but he’s been doing the job for the last five years since this heart condition has kept him out of the saddle so he’s very experienced. Getting good staff out here is not that easy.’

  She finished her coffee.

  ‘Then again,’ he drawled, ‘I’d quite understand if you didn’t feel up to the position. There is a bit more to it than appears on the surface.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Let’s see, I have a house party due to descend on Helena shortly, five people here for two nights, that’s quite a bit of cooking and housework, and one meal is a formal dinner for ten. That kind of thing.’

  ‘And you think I couldn’t cope with that?’ She raised her chin.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m asking you.’

  ‘I could do it with my eyes shut,’ she told him tartly, ‘but on one condition.’

  ‘Name it,’ he murmured.

  ‘If, at any time while I’m here, you find out where Mark is, I get to know too.’

  Determined grey eyes engaged dark brown ones and the atmosphere between them couldn’t have been more fraught if they’d been engaged in a duel.

  Then Steve Kinane said flatly, ‘Are you really madly in love with him?’

  Chattie chose her words with care. ‘That’s none of your business. Do we have a deal?’

  Something flickered in Steve’s dark eyes. ‘If he’s driving to Broome—’

  ‘He’s driving? All the way to Broome?’ Chattie interrupted. ‘That’s nearly right across the continent.’

  ‘Yep.’ He got up. ‘But we country people are used to driving long distances. And I’m only assuming he’s driving to Broome but, if he is, he’ll be out of mobile range a lot of the time.’

  ‘All the same, wouldn’t he…’ Chattie hesitated ‘…have more sophisticated equipment with him other than a mobile phone for such a long trip?’

  ‘What did you have in mind?’

  She gestured. ‘A satellite phone?’

  ‘Have you any idea how much satellite phones cost?’

  ‘No, but you seem to have everything else that opens and shuts.’

  He smiled satanically. ‘How would you know?’

  ‘Well, that phone you used to get in touch with the flying doctor—’

  ‘Was a satellite phone,’ he conceded, ‘but it’s kept for emergencies. Not…’ he paused and continued with patent irony ‘…for Mark’s personal use in sorting out his love life.’

  Chattie came to her feet rather like a spring uncoiling as she was hit by Bridget’s conviction that the root cause of all Mark’s problems was this insufferable man. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that Mark may have benefited from a less “superior” older brother, Mr Kinane?’

  They eyed each other.

  ‘He really did get you in, didn’t he?’ he said at last.

  ‘He really did get me in, yes,’ Chattie agreed, although she crossed her fingers behind her back and assured herself all was fair in this kind of war.

  ‘So it’s no good me telling you I’ve done my level best to steer Mark down the right road ever since he left school?’

  ‘None at all,’ she answered with dry economy.

  He cocked his head to one side and frowned. ‘Apart from the obvious—why is that?’

  ‘What would the obvious be?’ Chattie enquired.

  ‘His skills in bed,’ he drawled and ran his gaze up and down her body. ‘Something, incidentally, I have no doubt he’s very good at.’

  Chattie went white. ‘How dare you?’

  He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine in the limited time you’ve known him that you’ve been able to assess his other qualities too accurately.’

  For some insane reason, it occurred to Chattie to wonder how good Steve Kinane was in bed. She had no doubt he was a man’s man, she had no doubt he was tough and strong, that he was also cool-headed under pressure and commanding at times, but was there another side to him?

  From the way he was looking at her, she suddenly couldn’t doubt that there was. His dark appraisal of her had all the hallmarks of a man who knew women well enough to be forming some opinions on how good she was in bed. The mere thought of it made her go hot and cold and feel quite panicky—why on earth was she thinking along these lines about a man she barely knew, even visualising his strong hands on her body with an inward little tremor?

  ‘There is one quality I’m familiar with,’ she said, wrenching her mind away from the unbelievable. ‘He is not a dyed-in-the-wool grazier as you appear to be and forcing him to spend his life here when he hates it is diabolical.’

  Steve Kinane folded his arms and, to Chattie’s utter surprise, laughed softly. ‘Is that what he told you?’

  She gritted her teeth. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then let me set the record straight, Miss Winslow. Mark is free to do what he likes. But if he expects Mount Helena to support him—and to date he’s come up with no other visible means of support—then I expect him to put his shoulder to the wheel when he’s needed. What’s so unreasonable about
that?’

  Chattie gripped her hands together and took a deep breath. ‘Families are still families even if they’re going through trying times, even if they’re much younger and seem to lack direction,’ she said with quiet passion.

  Surprise caused Steve’s eyes to widen then narrow.

  ‘The other thing is,’ she went on, ‘although I haven’t experienced being old yet, I’m sure it’s all too easy to forget what it’s like to be young.’

  He opened his mouth, closed it, then said incredulously, ‘How bloody old do you think I am?’

  ‘Thirty-two since Mark is twenty-two and you’re about ten years older.’

  ‘And you think that’s old?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not so much in years but it can also be a state of mind.’

  Fortunately, perhaps, Brett chose that moment to return to the veranda with Rich. ‘We’re hungry,’ he announced.

  ‘Just as well there’s some raisin toast left,’ Chattie said, and handed Brett a slice. ‘I don’t think Rich likes—oh, yes, he does!’ she added with a gurgle of laughter as Rich pinched a piece of toast. ‘Let’s hope—’ she raised her eyes to Steve ‘—this doesn’t mean Brett will develop a liking for dog food!’

  Steve Kinane had to smile but it was a perfunctory one as he grappled with the distinct feeling that Chattie Winslow had got the better of him. Not only that, as he watched her bend down to the dog and the boy, the more he got to know her, the more gorgeous she appeared to him. Dressed up or dressed down didn’t seem to make much difference, her hips in blue denim were a delight…and therein could lie a problem for him.

  A lovely body but the mind of an amateur philosopher, not to mention in love with his brother, he reminded himself ruefully—what could be more of a disaster for him?

  Chattie straightened, and saw something in Steve Kinane’s eyes as they rested on her again that was infinitely disturbing—why should the dark gaze of this man be so compelling? Wasn’t she equally convinced that he was autocratic and insensitive even if he was—sexy?

  Then he cut the eye contact. ‘If you’d care to come with me,’ he said as he turned away, ‘we can try to raise Mark now.’

  She hesitated but Brett and Rich appeared to be content so she followed him through her bedroom and across the other side of the house to the office.

  It was a small, cluttered room with a map of the property on the wall and a battered old roll-top desk. There was also a table with a computer, what looked to be a single side band radio and a phone.

  He reached for a black covered phone book and leafed through it. ‘I assume you would have tried his mobile?’ he said then and Chattie held her breath because she had asked Bridget about a mobile number for Mark Kinane only to be told he kept losing them so didn’t bother with one.

  ‘He…appeared to have lost it,’ she said.

  Steve slammed the phone book down on the desk. ‘Not again! Bloody hell! That must be the sixth one he’s lost. I wonder if it’s occurred to you that the man you’re chasing across the country is almost criminally careless?’

  Chattie failed to respond because Bridget was also careless with her keys, her purse—umbrellas were always disappearing, she’d even lost the car they shared in a multi-storey car park and it had taken her two hours to find it.

  ‘What?’ Steve Kinane asked.

  My sister and your brother, if ever they do get together will either be wonderfully well suited or a disaster, it ran through her mind. ‘Uh—nothing,’ she said.

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ he contradicted irritably. ‘Something struck you quite forcibly.’

  Chattie lowered her eyes and castigated herself again for being transparent.

  ‘Am I not allowed to be critical of Mark—is that it?’ He looked at her incredulously.

  She grasped the straw. ‘I tried to make that point earlier.’

  He said something unprintable, then took hold. ‘Look, I have no idea how to get in touch with him, but you have my word, if he checks in I’ll tell you. In the meantime, I have a muster to organize; I told you about the house party, I have a parentless kid on my hands—are you going to take the job or not?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly, although she added the rider, ‘but only for so long as I’m comfortable with it.’

  He looked heavenwards but once again reined his feelings in. ‘Thank you. By the way, I don’t expect you to work yourself to death—if you keep us clean-clothed and fed to start with, I’d appreciate it. Slim did also have some help and…’ he paused to listen ‘…from the sounds I hear in the kitchen, she has arrived. Come and meet Merlene.’

  Merlene was in her thirties, well padded, at least six feet tall, she had a spiked haircut and if that didn’t give her a belligerent look, her bikie attire and prominent chin did.

  Steve passed on the information about Slim and introduced Chattie as his temporary replacement.

  Merlene’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her hair. ‘That was fast work. So his old ticker is playing up again? Darn me.’ She subjected Chattie to a thorough inspection and turned back to Steve. ‘You serious?’

  ‘Miss Winslow comes highly recommended,’ he said gravely. ‘All the same, I’d appreciate it if you could give her all the help you can, Merlene. And I’d appreciate it if you’d move into Slim’s quarters in the annexe for the time being. In the meantime, I need to get back to work.’

  ‘Here’s the gist of it, Chattie,’ Merlene said after Steve’s departure. ‘I do floors, windows, walls, the laundry and ironing and I chop the wood for the stove.’

  ‘That must be an enormous help!’

  ‘I do not,’ Merlene continued, ‘do bathrooms, I do not dust or polish furniture and knick-knacks, I do not cook or do dishes, and if that’s Brett I hear, I do not run around after kids.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Chattie said a little faintly, beginning to wilt beneath the force of Merlene’s strictures and intense blue gaze.

  ‘Nor do I mend or sew, wait on tables or arrange flowers.’

  ‘That’s fine with me. Um—’

  ‘And I do not take kindly to having my work picked over and criticized—which Slim had a nasty habit of doing!’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Chattie said fervently, having gained the distinct impression that Merlene could pick her up with one hand. Her other thought was that Steve Kinane could have warned her before casting her upon the untender mercies of this woman.

  ‘And—’ Merlene pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table ‘—I don’t believe for one minute you’re here as a replacement anything. Word has it one of Mark’s fancy pieces followed him out to Helena only to find he’d done a bunk to Broome—least-wise that’s what we’re betting on.’ She folded her arms.

  Chattie digested this and decided she’d had enough. So she explained that she did know Mark but that was no one’s business but her own and she didn’t give a damn what anyone thought about her because she was quite secure in the knowledge that she was no one’s fancy piece.

  Merlene unfolded her arms. ‘You and me could get along,’ she said. ‘How about a cuppa? I usually start my working day with one.’

  Chattie breathed a little easier. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Then I’ll show you the ropes. By the way, I work three hours a day and you don’t have to worry about feeding me while I’m sleeping in the annexe, I’ll still take my meals down in the bunkhouse with the guys.’

  Chattie looked bewildered. ‘Why are you sleeping in the annexe, then?’

  ‘Search me,’ Merlene replied, then gave the matter some thought. ‘I guess Steve likes to do things by the book and you two being alone here at nights mightn’t look good.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Although,’ Merlene said, with her first flash of humour as she scanned Chattie from head to toe, ‘whether it’s your reputation he’s worried about—or his—is a moot point. Now don’t get your dander up! Only joking.’

  By lunch time, Chattie had been instructed in all th
e core functionings of the Mount Helena homestead.

  Along the way she’d also gathered snippets of information that fleshed out life on Mount Helena for her and gave her an insight into some of its inhabitants.

  Slim and Merlene, for example, were sworn enemies but, she gathered, would probably be bereft without each other to fight.

  Merlene herself had lived on Mount Helena all her life and had followed in her ringer father’s footsteps until an accident had given her a reason to quit all the dust and toil of it. These days all she rode was her motor bike—much more predictable and better sprung than a horse. As well as her so clearly defined house duties, she operated a store for the workers, of which there were five permanent ones. She was the only woman on Mount Helena other than Harriet Barlow, of whom she had a low opinion.

  She also imparted some knowledge to Chattie about the size of Mount Helena and how many head of cattle it ran, information that caused Chattie’s eyes to widen.

  And when Chattie commented on all the lovely things in the house, she told her that Steve and Mark’s mother had been a great lady of great taste.

  She didn’t have anything to say on the subject of Mark Kinane—hard as it was to conceive, Chattie thought she was being tactful—but there was a definite flavour in her other observations that would have led Chattie to believe—had she not believed otherwise!—that the sun shone out of Steve Kinane.

  Then it was one o’clock and Steve came home for lunch.

  Mount Helena didn’t have a fridge, it had a whole cold room, and out of it Chattie hastily assembled a simple meal of cold beef and salad.

  ‘I’ll be able to do better than this tomorrow,’ she assured him, poured him a cup of tea and started to cut up Brett’s beef for him. ‘It’s just that Merlene has been kind enough to—really show me the ropes.’

  ‘This is fine,’ he murmured. ‘No calls?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you and Merlene hit it off?’ he queried with his lips twisting.