‘Uh-oh, one of those impasses.’ His lips twisted
‘Those?’ she queried.
‘Of the domestic dispute variety,’ he quipped, and pulled to a stop in front of the stables. ‘OK, let’s see what we can do.’
Chattie stayed where she was with surprise and growing indignation colouring her expression.
‘I get it,’ he drawled. ‘You’re thinking MEN, in capital letters, but that’s what I meant. I was thinking, WOMEN—along the same lines.’
‘You know what I think? That you’re one of those impossibly bright and bushy early morning people sent to torment the life out of the rest of the planet!’ she retorted, and got out of the vehicle to close her door with a bang.
Steve Kinane flinched but a shrill whinny split the air and he turned away from the car immediately.
The scene inside the stables was horrifying—to Chattie at least.
Steve’s favourite horse was a chestnut filly with one white sock and a white blaze. Sweat had darkened her coat and panic was sending tremors through her as she lay on her side wedged against the back wall of the stall.
‘Every time we go near her,’ Jack Barlow said, ‘she tries to thrash about but she can’t get over and I’m afraid she’s going to injure herself. Like that,’ he added as the filly strove mightily and convulsively to get to her feet to no avail.
‘Get a couple of slings,’ Steve ordered, then stepped into the stall and approached the horse’s head. Chattie held her breath but immediately his tone changed as he knelt down beside the filly.
‘Daisy, my darling,’ he said soothingly, ‘how did you get yourself into this mess?’ He rubbed her neck and stroked her nose.
As Chattie watched in wonderment the horse relaxed, almost with a very human sigh of relief, and as Steve kept on talking to her and rubbing her he directed traffic with his other hand until Jack and one of the hands were in the positions he wanted them. Then, and Chattie wasn’t quite sure how they did it, with one concerted movement they all heaved, Daisy flailed her legs and, scattering Jack and the hand, plunged to her feet.
She then, perhaps in an excess of exuberance at being freed, kicked out at the wall with both back legs.
Jack swore as he dodged just in time. At the same time Steve slipped a headstall onto her and admonished her with a grin. ‘If you weren’t such a darn good racehorse and hadn’t just had a nasty experience, Miss Daisy, that kind of behaviour would not be overlooked.’
Daisy harrumphed and stuck her nose lovingly into his armpit. Steve submitted to this treatment for a couple of minutes, then he handed her over to Bill, the hand, and gave her a thorough running-over with his hands.
‘Doesn’t appear to be any damage but just trot her up and down a couple of times.’
Bill led the filly out into the central passageway and obliged while Jack and Steve studied her action.
‘I reckon she’s fine,’ Jack said, and they all burst out laughing as Daisy turned her head as she passed Chattie and tried to pinch the apple out of her hand.
But instead of getting a fright Chattie was enchanted, and asked if she could feed it to the horse.
‘Bite off bits and just lay them in your palm,’ Steve said.
She did so and felt Daisy’s velvety muzzle tickling her hand. Moreover, once the apple was consumed, she petted the horse before finally turning to Steve and saying, ‘I don’t know why I haven’t had anything to do with horses! I’d love to learn to ride.’
‘Yes, well, they are big and they do kick and bite sometimes,’ Steve said and looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. Then, ‘OK, Bill, you can put her out in the paddock.’ They strolled outside.
‘Tell me a bit more about her,’ Chattie invited as they leant against the Range Rover in the early morning sunlight.
‘Her racing name is Miss Daisy. She’s three years old and she’s already won half a million dollars.’
‘Wow! But do you…you don’t train her yourself, do you?’
‘No, but we own her dam, she was born and reared here, and she comes back here between preparations to spell.’
‘So you’ve known her since the day she was born? That explains it,’ Chattie murmured.
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
‘Why she trusts you so much—is what I mean.’
He shrugged. ‘Possibly. There’s also a key to handling bright, spirited, flighty young things of the female persuasion. You need to kid to them a bit, you need to get them to trust you and you need them to know that when you put your foot down, that’s it.’
‘Only of the female persuasion?’ Chattie asked gravely, then laughed with delight as Miss Daisy was released into the paddock where she put on a very spirited bucking exhibition before settling down and approaching the feed bin Bill had hooked over the fence rail.
‘Colts,’ Steve said, ‘often need more authority, less kidding to.’
‘I’m glad you qualified that very sexist statement, otherwise I could have got quite the wrong impression of you!’ But her eyes were still dancing.
‘In amongst all the other wrong impressions you have of me?’ he queried.
‘I was joking.’ She sobered completely, and sighed.
He folded his arms and leant back against the Range Rover. Unlike her he wore no jumper against the chill of the air although they both wore jeans. And, unlike her earlier sentiments on the subject of men in general and Steve Kinane in particular, she was once again on the roundabout.
She’d started out the day feeling nervous and beleaguered because of him. Then she’d been most impressed by his physical and mental skills with Miss Daisy, but in between she’d been thoroughly annoyed with him—even slamming his car door.
Now, though, she had no idea where she stood. Respect, admiration, and enjoyment of his company—all those things were there. There was also a whole lot about him she didn’t know, not to mention that mixture of danger and delight he could arouse in her.
‘Chattie—’ she looked up to meet his dark gaze, and as it roamed briefly up and down her figure she literally experienced one of those dangerous moments ‘—tell me a couple of things. What will you do when you go back to Brisbane?’
Surprise caused her eyes to widen. ‘Go back to my college, of course.’
‘Will that be easy? And enjoyable?’
She looked around, shielding her eyes from the sun as she did so. And once again it swooped on her like a bird falling through the sky onto its prey—that Mount Helena was becoming more fascinating to her with every passing day.
She’d come to love the wide open spaces. She stood on her veranda every morning feeling liberated as she looked around. Feeling adventurous and with her painter’s eye glorying in the colours and the width, depth and height of the canvas before her.
She also felt as if she’d grown, not physically but internally, with the job she was doing, the challenges she was meeting. And, not that she wanted to look forward to a career of housekeeping, but the life she was living was much more satisfying than her previous existence of teaching in a city, she realized.
Hang on right there, she cautioned herself, and the bird of her imagination soared back skywards out of reach… I can’t stay on here after Bridget’s news gets out so why am I even contemplating it?
‘Chattie?’
She cleared her throat, then replied with a shrug, ‘I’m a working girl.’
‘Will you stay on here until the end of your holidays? That’s about another two weeks, by my estimation.’
‘I…’ She paused and started to colour beneath his assessing gaze. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well—’ she spread her hands and tried to think coherently ‘—you’re not quite so much in the lurch now. Surely you could get a replacement for Slim from a pastoral agency? I don’t know how long it will take him to recuperate, but if it’s longer than two weeks you’ll have to anyway.’
‘What about Mark?’
‘What about him?’ s
he said absently, because her thoughts couldn’t have been further from Mark Kinane or Bridget for that matter.
‘Isn’t he your raison d’être for being here in the first place?’ he asked with palpable irony. ‘Or are you starting to forget all about my brother, Chattie?’
She closed her eyes. ‘No.’
‘You don’t lie very well.’
She bit her lip.
‘Last night,’ he said, ‘you—’
‘Please don’t,’ she whispered.
‘Just another attack of involuntary thoughtlessness?’ he suggested dryly.
Her lashes fluttered up to see he was focused on her intently.
‘Which leads me to wonder if that’s why you’re going to go—because you can’t help yourself with me. But the thing is, I have the same problem, so you would imagine it would make us—square.’
‘Steve…’ she took a shaken breath ‘…I—’
‘No, Chattie, enough of this,’ he said roughly, and took her in his arms. ‘I don’t know what game the hell you’re playing but, the fact is, I don’t care. Because sparks flew between us almost from the moment we met and I won’t rest until you’re honest about it.’
He lowered his mouth to hers.
‘You promised you wouldn’t do this,’ she protested.
‘To all intents and purposes the house party is over—and as you pointed out yourself I’m no longer completely in the lurch,’ he growled against her lips.
‘But anybody could see us!’
‘Let ’em,’ he said contemptuously. ‘I’ve spent all bloody night wondering about you and how you like to be made love to. And you, my dear, were the one who fell asleep at the dining room table then didn’t want me to let you go.’
Tears of confusion, of frustration, beaded her lashes but she blinked them away. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said huskily. ‘I just…I just don’t know what to say any more.’
‘Good. Don’t say a thing, then. Unless you’d like to tell me how you do like it.’
But he didn’t give her a chance. He kissed the one tear that had escaped, then claimed her mouth possessively and hungrily.
When they finally drew apart, Chattie felt as if she’d come as close to being made love to as was possible without it actually happening. Her lips were bruised but her body was alive and singing with the desire that was coursing through her veins. She felt alive and intoxicated with the feel and the taste of him. She felt as if she was on a new threshold, but once again, as if she belonged in his arms,
‘Anything thoughtless about that?’ he queried.
‘No. It’s…lovely,’ she admitted raggedly.
‘Are you wearing a colourful bra?’ he asked, with his hands beneath her jumper.
For a moment she couldn’t remember what bra she was wearing. ‘Why?’
‘The one I saw a couple of nights ago was like no other I’ve seen.’
‘I make my own bras,’ she murmured and shivered as his fingers found her nipples.
‘Is there anything you can’t do?’ he queried with a smile in his eyes.
‘Cope with thunderstorms.’
‘Will you stay on now? I’ll see if I can organize a thunder-free period for the next two weeks.’
He was massaging her nipples with his thumbs and it was sending quivering tendrils of sheer delight to the pit of her stomach, and an intimation of further delight she could only marvel at with a breathless little gasp.
‘Chattie?’ he said softly but insistently.
That was when they heard hurried footsteps crunching along the gravel path from the stables.
She froze and Steve removed his hands from her breasts, pulled her jumper down decorously but kept her in his arms as he turned his head to look over the bonnet of the Range Rover to see who it was.
It was Jack Barlow, coming to a sudden stop. ‘Pardon me,’ he said in some confusion. ‘I didn’t realize—that is to say I…didn’t realize—’
‘That’s OK,’ Steve said abruptly. ‘Got a problem?’
Jack scratched his head as if he was still getting to grips with the scene he was witnessing, then he looked urgent. ‘You could say so. A chopper’s come down on the property—not ours. Some guys surveying who strayed off course and then suffered a mechanical failure. The pilot’s broken his leg—’
Steve swore and released Chattie. ‘Badly?’ he queried tersely.
Jack nodded. ‘Compound fracture, by the sound of it. We’re going to have to organize a search-and-rescue mission pronto.’
‘One of those days,’ Steve said dryly and turned back to Chattie. Could—’ he paused ‘—could I ask you to handle the breakup of the house party?’
‘Of course. Is there anything else I can do?’ she asked anxiously.
‘No, but thanks. Just—don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ he said and kissed her hair. ‘Promise?’
She swallowed. ‘I promise.’
‘That’s my girl.’
The news of the helicopter crash saw the house party break up rather quickly. All able-bodied men were seconded to the search, although John Jackson flew his wife home first.
Chattie received a warm hug from Joan Jackson and another from Lucy Cook. Sasha Kelly merely murmured goodbye in a languid manner. Harriet was on hand to farewell the guests, and, slightly to Chattie’s surprise, suggested they have a cup of coffee once everyone had left.
Then again, she thought, Harriet had been really helpful as well as friendly the previous evening, so why not?
‘I must say—’ Harriet poured two steaming mugs ‘—you were inspired last night, Chattie.’
‘Thanks. And thanks for your help.’
‘Actually—’ Harriet eyed Chattie over her mug ‘—you’re exactly what Steve needs.’
Chattie went still. ‘What do you mean?’ Then enlightenment dawned. ‘Jack didn’t waste any time, did he?’
‘No, he didn’t.’ But Harriet looked entirely unembarrassed. ‘However, there is one thing you should know. Steve’s been a different person since his wife, Nadine, left him. It hardened him and made him, well, pretty cynical about marriage.’
So that was her name: Nadine.
‘Harriet,’ Chattie said carefully, ‘why are you telling me this?’
‘Two reasons, I guess. It might help you to understand when you run into that wall of cynicism, as you’re bound to. And he’s done an awful lot for me so I wouldn’t like to see him get hurt again.’
Chattie stared into Harriet’s blue eyes and saw genuine concern. She looked away. ‘Harriet, we’ve only known each other for such a short time it’s impossible to say what will happen.’
‘According to Jack all things looked possible this morning! And I get the feeling the mild interest Steve may have had in Sasha Kelly has—’ Harriet theatrically thumped her palm on the table ‘—died.’
Chattie blinked.
‘He was quite cool towards her when she tried to be—how can I say it?—possessive, last night,’ Harriet added.
‘Really? I—’
‘And I believe you had a little run-in with her yourself?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did.’
‘Well, then.’ Harriet looked complacent. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t like it out here? You’ve fitted in so damn well, it’s amazing. That is something Nadine did not do.’
Chattie simply couldn’t help herself. ‘Why did they marry, then?’
Harriet raised her eyebrows expressively. ‘You should have seen her.’ She shrugged. ‘To all intents and purposes they made a fantastic couple but the isolation got to her. Actually, I think what really got to her was the fact that Steve could afford to have a full-time manager so they could have lived anywhere, but he wouldn’t even contemplate it. He loves this place and this lifestyle.’
Chattie finished her coffee and rose, prey to a whole series of conflicting emotions. What would happen at the end of two weeks if she stayed? She had no doubt they would not be able to resist each other for much longer…
She stared out over the paddocks. Even without the complication of Bridget, would there be a future for her with Steve? Or, did he have in mind an affair for only as long as their passion lasted? Which led directly on to, she thought, was Harriet right about the cynicism he’d been left with towards marriage?
How could she leave Bridget out of the equation, though? She sighed inwardly and turned back to Harriet.
‘Would you have any idea where Mark is?’
Harriet looked surprised. ‘None. Why?’
‘I—just wondered. Do you—obviously you know his ex-fiancée?’
Harriet shook her head. ‘Never met her, none of us did, although I believe her name was Bryony. It was very much a uni kind of crush, from what I could gather.’
‘So you don’t think he’s…gone back to her?’
Harriet waved a hand. ‘Haven’t a clue. Why?’
‘Oh, nothing. Well…’ Chattie shrugged ‘…that’s how I came to be here in the first place—because I’d met Mark.’
The other girl wrinkled her nose. ‘Forget about Mark. He’s got a whole lot of growing up to do. I would have thought,’ she added with a frown, ‘Steve had quite wiped Mark from your mind.’
‘You would be quite right,’ Chattie replied with a burst of somewhat bitter honesty at the same time as Merlene came out onto the veranda.
They both turned to her. ‘You got a sister called Bridget, Chattie?’
‘Yes! Why?’ Chattie sat up urgently.
‘She’s on the blower.’
‘Oh, excuse me, Harriet—’
‘Don’t mind me, I’m about to go home anyway. Just remember what I said!’
‘Bridget, it’s me,’ Chattie said into the kitchen connection. ‘Are you all right?’ She listened for about half a minute with her mouth falling open, then said, ‘What?’
Two minutes later she put the phone down and dropped her head into her hands in disbelief.
‘Everything OK?’ Merlene enquired.
‘No. Well. My sister is on her way here. She’s hitched a lift with a friend of a friend who is flying his light plane up to Longreach.’
‘Is that such a disaster?’ Merlene asked curiously.
The Australians Convenient Bride Page 10