‘Like feeding out the hay and bringing the mob in.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ll see if she’s up for it. Anything else, your majesty?’
‘No, I think that’s all for today.’
‘Right. Then I’ll see you at half past midnight.’
‘If you don’t get a move-along, cheeky boy, you won’t. Off you go. We don’t want Flynn to come back to everything fallen down around his ears.’
Reid laughed. ‘Not much chance of that with Mahatma at the reins.’ He was out the door before he heard her response, jogging down the path to the corrals and stables. He’d check the horses’ hooves and let them out to pasture before going down to the cottage. No point getting Nat up early when she probably wasn’t used to it.
An hour and a half later, he slapped the last horse on the rump to send him out into the pasture. Out of the thirty horses in the corral, only Starbuck and Anniken needed reshoeing, Cap had a cracked hoof that would need a special brace made for the shoe and some oiling and he’d pulled a stone out of Oscar—he’d need to be rested for a week or so to ensure he wouldn’t come up lame. Not bad, especially given the rains they’d been having. At this rate, Dave, their farrier, would have little to do before the big check-up of the entire herd after Christmas in time for the big camps and tourist push that always happened from early January.
Time to go see Nat now.
He washed his hands in the sink in the stable, slapped dust from his pants with his Akubra before putting it on his head—it was shaping up to be a hot one—then jogged over to Barb’s office to get the photo and the envelope, trying to ignore the tingle of nervous energy chasing over his skin.
It was only Nat. No need to get all bent out of shape. He was no longer that boy who wore his heart on his sleeve like Barb said.
He grabbed the bubble-wrapped framed photo and the manila envelope and headed down to the cottage.
The ground was still damp and slightly springy under his boots from the gentle rainfall they’d had last night. Scents of wet bushland, the sweet and musty smell of the wattles and the green tang of eucalypts hung in the air around him. The rain was a blessing at this time of year, making wild bushfires less likely, but it also made the rides much more pleasant when you didn’t have to eat a pile of dust if you were riding anywhere but at the front of the pack.
He let his head hang back as he took in another deep breath. The sky was an incredible deep summer blue, the clouds that had brought rain mere puffs of white that were already floating away. There was nothing like the blue of an Australian summer sky. The light that came through the branches of gum trees above his head would have had his director of photography slavering to film here, especially with the way it intensified the green-gold of the grass in the valleys and the silver-green-blue of the gum trees on the distant hills. It truly was a beautiful piece of countryside—he hadn’t realised until right now just how much he’d missed it.
The sound of a gunshot broke the peace of the morning, making him jerk to a stop. The single shot was followed quickly by two more, the sound echoing through the valley. It would have been difficult to pinpoint where the shots came from except for the flutter of angry birds as they took off, squawking and cawing from the trees in the bush to the right of CoalCliff, the area they rode through. He frowned. Nobody had asked permission to hunt on their lands and there wasn’t a planned cull of rabbits that he knew of. He stopped, waiting to hear if there were any more shots, because if there were, he was going to have to have a few words with someone about trespassing and hunting without permission.
A few more Galahs rose out of the trees, their angry flapping echoing across the valley, but there were no more gunshots. Maybe Merryl and the boys had found some injured cattle and were putting them down. If the cows had wandered into the bush, there were multiple ways they could have broken their legs or even got stuck in the marshy areas that could be full of sucking mud due to the recent rains. Shooting them was the only way to put them out of their misery. There’d only been three shots, so it was likely. He’d check with Mac later when he got back and if the shots hadn’t been for euthanasia, he’d take it further. They couldn’t have anyone hunting or culling on their land without permission.
Putting it out of his mind, he kept walking. The shot that had frightened the Galahs had silenced the other bushland birds, but now they were starting up again. Although, he’d never heard bird call quite like that, almost as if they were singing a song.
No, that actually was a song. And not birdsong. It was coming from the cottage. He stopped, listened. Too deep and full to be a child’s voice, it pulled at him, weaving around him, through him, urging him forward once again. It was a woman’s voice and it was magical.
He’d had no idea Nat could sing—he didn’t remember her ever having done so when they were growing up here. Her mother had always been the singer. She’d played the piano and entertained the guests. He knew Nat had been forced to learn guitar and piano—he’d even had a stint at learning the instrument for a while with Nat’s mum, but he was too hyperactive to sit still and practice to ever be any good and after a while, Barb had let him give it up. Of recent years, the guitar had become more his thing, but he was only good enough for camp sing-alongs, nothing more.
Nat’s voice though—she could be a pro. It was astonishing, pure and yet with a huskiness to it that suggested a dark nightclub, a slinky gown and slick-sweaty bodies coming together on the smoky dance floor, twirling and swaying and dipping as the singer’s sultry voice twined around them. Hot. Sexy. Passionate.
His cock jerked in his jeans, bringing him to a stop as an image from long ago played in his mind. Shit. He tried to banish the image, but with her voice playing around him, caressing him in that intimate way, it was nearly impossible. He almost turned back, but then Barb would want to know why he hadn’t delivered the photo and why Nat and Tilly hadn’t gone with him to feed out the horses.
Clutching the frame in front of him, he forced himself forward.
The front door was open and as he neared it, he could see her moving around inside. It looked like she was dusting. He stepped up onto the porch, shifted the painting and envelope into one hand and lifted his hand to knock on the doorframe, but was held in place, mesmerised.
She was singing as she flitted around the room, spinning from one piece of furniture to the next, swaying, lifting the duster up to sing into it like it was a microphone. Lit by the light coming in through the east-facing window, she glowed like a halo shone around her body, a hint of darkest red, like blood or fire, glinting among the black curls.
He watched her, the joy in her, the passion, as she danced and sang and let herself go. She was magnificent.
She did a spin, came to a dead stop as she saw him in the doorway. The duster fell from her fingers as she screamed.
Chapter 8
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
Oh god, it was Reid. ‘No, it’s okay,’ Nat said, trying to get her heartbeat under control as her scream echoed in her ears. ‘You just startled me, that’s all. I didn’t hear you.’
‘No wonder. You looked like you were having a lovely time.’
Nat wanted to put a cold cloth on her burning cheeks, turn away, run from the room. She couldn’t believe she’d been so carried away, she hadn’t even noticed Reid standing there, watching her make a fool of herself. Then she’d screamed. He must think her a total idiot.
‘I didn’t know you could sing.’
He stepped into the light.
She sucked in a breath, forgetting all about her idiocy. It wasn’t fair for one man to be so beautiful. The impact of him sent a surge of warmth and trembling through her. She hugged her arms to her, clenching her fingers into her sides.
‘Nat?’
She held up her hand, stopping his progress towards her. ‘I should have closed the door but the air and the light were so lovely, I just wanted to bring a bit of the outside inside and then I s
aw it was dusty in here and thought I’d give it a little clean before I started my day and then I just couldn’t help singing. I haven’t sung for years, but then on the way over here in the car, Tilly and I were listening to all the Disney soundtracks I used to sing to her when she was a baby and I was settling her and it was so much fun to sing with her like that and when I started cleaning this morning, it just felt right to sing some more while I cleaned, just like one of the Disney princesses. It’s silly, really.’ She laughed. She was rambling. Oh god. But why was he just looking at her like that?
‘It was beautiful. You’ve got a beautiful voice.’
‘It’s not that great.’
He stepped closer. ‘Yes, it is. It’s astonishing. You should sing more. It was … I felt it in here.’ He tapped his chest. ‘You are really good.’
She turned away, unable to bear his compliment. Andrew had told her she had the voice of an angel. That was until he’d gone away and come back as someone else. Then he had told her listening to her sing was like scraping fingernails across a blackboard, but even less pleasant. He’d scream at her if he even heard her humming, so she’d stopped singing altogether. But this morning, with the light and the delicious scent of the bush coming in through the door and open windows and the sounds of the birds and the horses neighing in the pastures, she hadn’t been able to help herself. Song had just come flying out of her mouth and it had felt so good. Freeing. Like for the first time in years, she was opening her soul up to joy.
To have been caught behaving like a foolish child by Reid... It was too much to bear. Eyes burning and face twisting, certain that at any moment his compliments would turn to ash in her mouth, she bent to pick up the duster, ready to flinch away if necessary.
‘Nat? Are you okay?’
‘Perfectly fine, thank you.’ She was being stupid. He wasn’t Andrew. He wasn’t about to compliment her and then turn into a screaming maniac the next moment. She had to stop expecting the worst to happen. Plastering a smile to her face, she straightened. ‘Is that for me?’
She had to force herself to meet his searching gaze, keeping her pleasant smile in place. Thankfully, after a moment, he looked down at the package he was carrying. ‘No. It’s a photo that Barb had reframed. She asked me to bring it down and put it up.’
The muscles in his arms flexed under the soft material of his dark blue t-shirt as he shifted the frame in his hands. My god, did he have to look so gorgeous and enticing? Even the battered Akubra on his head, which should have made him look like every other dust and sweat covered farmhand here, just helped to accentuate the angles and planes of his face, the shadow of bristles on his chin, the startling green of his eyes. Oh god, she was staring at him again. She jerked her gaze away, tension screaming through her body, the hyper-awareness of him making her legs tremble. ‘It belongs here?’
‘Apparently it belongs above the piano.’
She looked at the bare wall above the piano, noticing the bright new hook that had been drilled into the plaster. Huh. Her eyes slid back to him as if she had no control over them at all. Pathetic. ‘Uh, do you need help putting it up?’
His lips twitched. ‘I think I can manage.’
‘Okay. Then, I’ll leave you to it.’ She began to leave the room while she still had control of her legs.
‘Nat?’ She turned back, locking her knees, eyebrow raised, trying not to look at him, his face, his lips, but failing. Crap, she was as bad as all those women and teenagers who slavered after him. Worse really, because she knew him, had known him as a little boy, had seen him pee in Barb’s azaleas when he was eight and then fallen asleep with chocolate cake all over his mouth after Flynn’s fourteenth birthday party. She needed to remember that. Remember him as he was then, not how he was now. Not as he’d been those nights ten years ago when she’d given in to his charm and his smile and his adoration of her because she’d needed, just for a few days, to feel better about herself and her life. He was a reminder of her weakness, not someone she should be attracted to.
If only he wouldn’t stare at her like that, the strangest look on his face. It was almost as if he—
No, don’t be silly. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled to see her when she arrived, besides which, she didn’t need the complications that might arise from anything of that nature. She was staying. He would leave, eventually. His career was out there. Hers was here. That was more than enough reason not to get involved, even if he was one of the most attractively sexy men she’d ever seen and made her just want to take a bite …
Grrr. What the hell was she thinking? She crossed her arms, grasping hold of the anger with herself—it was the only thing stopping her from melting in a puddle at his feet. The anger allowed her to be a bit annoyed with him too. What did he mean by standing there staring at her and not getting on with things? With an impatient snort, she said, ‘Reid? Earth to Reid?’
‘What?’
‘You stopped me from leaving. What did you want to say?’
‘Oh.’ He blinked, put the painting on the floor and held out a manila envelope. ‘This came in the mail. Barb asked me to bring it down.’
She took it from him, eyes going to the name of the Garonne’s solicitor in the top left-hand corner. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers fumbled on the envelope. Oh god. They knew she was here now? No, the writing on the front was in Sarah’s hand. So, her lawyer had addressed it on their behalf and sent it to her. They still didn’t know where she was. Good. It mustn’t be anything too bad if she’d sent it on. Or maybe it was so bad, Sarah had to let her know. Then why hadn’t she called? Her fingers tightened, scrunching the envelope.
‘Nat? Are you okay?’
She looked up at him, licked her lips, trying to find words, any words, to cover the panic clawing in her chest. ‘Umm, let me get the stuff you left here. It’s just in the bedroom. I’ll just …’ She pointed down the hall. ‘While you do that.’ She pointed at the photo, knowing by the look on his face that she wasn’t fooling him at all.
‘Are you okay?’
He took a step closer. No. Don’t come closer. Closer was bad. She couldn’t throw herself into the comfort of his arms right now, allow him to chase away her fears with his strength and familiarity. She had sworn to herself that she would stand on her own two feet. That she would show Tilly how to be a strong woman, because god only knew, she’d done a terrible job of that so far. ‘I’m fine. I just got a bit of a shock.’
‘From the mail?’ He looked down at her hand. ‘Who’s it from?’
The envelope was scrunched in her hand. She forced her fingers to loosen, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper, and put it down on the side table next to the hall door. ‘It’s from my parents-in-law’s solicitor.’ She knew something would be coming soon, their last foray having been swept aside by the judge, but she just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.
Reid was looking carefully at her. ‘Do you need help with something?’
‘No. I’m fine.’ He didn’t look convinced. ‘I promise. I just wasn’t expecting anything to be sent here for me yet, that’s all.’
‘Do you want to open it and see what it is?’
She glanced at the envelope glaring at her from the table. ‘No. I’ll do it later.’ And call Sarah after to discuss whatever it was. Although, she didn’t want Tilly to see it there. Thanks to the custody issue, Tilly knew the name of her grandparent’s solicitor all too well. She grabbed up the envelope, her fingers crushing around it.
Reid drew closer, touched her arm. ‘I’ll stay with you if you need someone to be here when you open it.’
She stared at his hand on her arm, his long fingers a warm burn on her skin. There was dirt under his nails, one of them chipped, the thumbnail a little chewed. He had such lovely hands. Strong yet gentle. His hands would never hurt her or her daughter. She sucked in a breath, taking in his scent. He smelled of the beach beside a stand of forest with pines and eucalypts. And dust and hay and horse. It was a wonder
ful smell, one that reminded her so much of lovely memories. She couldn’t remember him smelling like this ten years ago. Or even feeling quite like this years ago. He’d always had a magnetic energy that drew everyone to him, her included, much to her shame and embarrassment back then, but now, it had grown into something else, something more. Standing next to him, touched by him, his caring gaze encompassing her, drawing her in, it was like being sun-warmed on a cold winter’s day. She would always choose to walk into that sun, to be warmed by it. No, choose wasn’t the right word because there was no choice here, it was instinct, longing.
Oh, why couldn’t she have had this with Andrew? She should have had this with him. He’d been different once upon a time before life had turned on both of them and made it all shit.
‘Nat?’ His fingers moved, pressing, but not tightening, as if holding onto a frightened bird. Was she? A frightened bird? Is that how he saw her?
She looked up at him, their gazes clashing. She wanted to ask him what he saw when he looked at her but couldn’t seem to find those words as she lost herself in the depths of his eyes. The only words that came were, ‘That ring around your eyes is so dark. It makes your eyes look brilliantly green. Like they’re lit from within. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.’
‘Uh, thanks.’
She clapped her hand to her mouth, unable to believe she’d actually said that out loud. They stared at each other for another long second before she broke away and fled down the hall, afraid if she stayed another moment she was going to do something truly ridiculous. She really needed to get her hormones under control. And her mouth, apparently. She wasn’t that needy young woman anymore.
No, she was a needy older woman.
Oh, for craps-sake! ‘Get a grip, Nat,’ she muttered as she marched into her bedroom and shoved the letter behind the photo of Tilly she’d placed on the dresser. She turned and stared at the room, unable to remember why she’d come in here.
Climbing Fear Page 9