Claiming the Cattleman's Heart. Barbara Hannay
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Gidgee Springs,’ he said, nodding ahead towards the straggle of houses on the outskirts of the tiny Outback town.
‘So I see,’ she said, but she made no move to undo her seatbelt.
Daniel grimaced and drew a deep breath that emerged as a sigh. ‘I’d rather drop you off here than right in the centre of town.’
She didn’t answer, but when he glanced her way he could see her confusion.
‘Believe me, it’s better this way.’
She sat very still, staring at him, her lovely eyes puzzled. She opened her mouth to say something and then thought better of it.
Daniel swallowed, and ran a restless hand around the steering wheel.
Again Lily looked as if she was about to comment, but she paused, as if she was thinking carefully before she spoke. ‘You don’t want people to see me with you?’
Daniel covered his embarrassment with anger. ‘Look—I’ve done what you asked. It’s only a short walk to the garage and you can get your petrol.’
His bad manners ate at him, but they were necessary. No way was he going to explain to Lily exactly why he was being so unfriendly. He knew it would make perfect sense to her if he drove her all the way to Jim Blaine’s service station, waited while she got her petrol, and then drove her back out to her abandoned car. He had to go back that way anyway. He knew that. She knew that.
But what she didn’t know, what she couldn’t anticipate, was the way people would look at her if they saw her with him. He had no idea what had brought her to Gidgee Springs, but he was damned sure that her time there would be much more pleasant if she arrived without him.
‘Jim will help you find someone who’ll give you lift back out to your car. There’ll be plenty of people happy to help.’
‘I’m sure there will,’ she said in a low voice. ‘There have to be some friendly people around here somewhere.’
He could see puzzled disappointment written all over her, even though she was trying to hide how she felt. Well, too bad. This wasn’t the first time he’d disappointed a woman.
With a sharp little tilt of her chin, Lily unclipped her seatbelt and pushed the door open. Her hat and handbag were on her lap, and she slipped the straps of the bag over her shoulder and picked up the hat.
Then she took a deep breath and looked at him, her face fashioned into a tight, polite smile. ‘Thank you for lunch and for the lift. It—it was nice to meet you.’
His answer was a brief, bleak nod.
Her eyes flashed with an unnerving brightness, and with another spiky lift of her chin she stepped out of the ute and closed the door behind her.
She stood next to the car, and he had a clearly framed view through the passenger window of her blue floral shorts, hugging her cute behind, and above them the neat, slender curve of lightly tanned skin at her waist.
Clenching his teeth, he revved the car to send a clear message that he wanted to be on his way. Lily took the hint. With sunglasses and floppy hat in place, and her shoulders defiantly squared, she marched away from him. Her sandals crunched the gravel at the edge of the road and a gust of wind forced her to hang onto her hat. But she didn’t look back.
Good.
Daniel shoved the ute into gear and executed an abrupt U-turn, sending out a spurt of gravel in the process. He wouldn’t allow himself a single glance in the rear-view mirror. Another glimpse of Lily and he might weaken and head straight back to her, spluttering apologies.
For all sorts of reasons he mustn’t do that. He needed to put plenty of distance between himself and Lily Halliday.
To Lily’s surprise, it was a friendly young police sergeant who volunteered to drive her back to her abandoned car.
‘Who gave you a lift into town?’ he asked as they sped back over the bitumen.
‘Daniel Renton.’
As Lily said this she hoped he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice—a legacy of her lingering confusion about the man in question.
The policeman’s eyebrows shot high. ‘Daniel? Really?’
Deep down, Lily had guessed that her answer would surprise him.
‘I wish I’d seen him,’ he said. ‘I heard he was back. I would have liked to say hello.’
He seemed genuinely disappointed that he hadn’t caught up with Daniel.
‘He was in a terrible hurry to get away,’ she said tightly.
The police sergeant nodded, but didn’t comment, and for several minutes he drove on in silence. Lily felt absurdly annoyed. What was the mystery surrounding Daniel Renton? Why was it such a conversation-stopper?
She turned to stare out at the passing rush of dry paddocks and gum trees, and gnawed at her lip. Perhaps it was just as well they weren’t going to talk about Daniel. She’d experienced a ridiculous cocktail of emotions in the short time she’d been with him—intrigue, fear, sympathy—and an impossible attraction.
Daniel Renton was dangerously distracting. She hadn’t experienced such a compelling reaction to a man since Josh.
Josh. Oh, help. She was hit by an instant flash-flood of emotion, piercing, sweet and excruciating. Josh Bridges was the blond, suntanned, beach-boy hero of her youth. With him, she’d experienced youthful infatuation at its most poignant and painful.
She’d invested far too many years in Josh, too much tender love and too many fragile dreams. Then, just as her father had done when she was five, Josh had abandoned her.
These days she kept her heart safely under lock and key.
Besides, she couldn’t afford to be distracted by men. Right now, her mother depended on her. She was on a mission. Just as soon as she got her car going and was back in Gidgee Springs, she would try Audrey Halliday’s number again, and she wouldn’t give up till she got through to her.
But the annoying thing was that, no matter how hard she tried to divert her thoughts, Lily still felt an overwhelming need to talk about Daniel—especially to someone who knew him.
‘Daniel told me he’s been away and that he’s only come back recently,’ she said. ‘I don’t know where he’s been, but I’m sure of one thing—he wasn’t having fun.’
‘You’re dead right about that.’
‘I could sense this…’ She paused, and the sergeant looked at her expectantly.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘What did you think of him?’
‘It’s hard to pin down,’ she admitted. ‘But he seemed vulnerable somehow. And I thought there seemed to be an—an awful sadness in him.’
Lily drew a sharp breath, stunned to hear what she’d said. But, yes. Sadness. That was what it was. She hadn’t been able to identify the exact feeling while she’d been with Daniel, but now she knew what had bothered her about him. Sadness. Deep, dark sadness.
The policeman was watching her with a shrewd, searching look, and then, without warning, his eyes twinkled. ‘So Daniel brought out your mothering instincts, did he?’
‘No.’
A second later, she regretted her hasty reply. Her denial had been an automatic defence, because she hated to be teased. But it wasn’t the truth. And, for some reason she couldn’t quite name, she felt that Daniel deserved the truth.
‘I take that back,’ she said softly. ‘I’m not sure that mothering’s the right word. But he did make me feel—he did awaken my—er—sympathy.’
He frowned then, and his jaw seemed to lock into a jutting grimace as he stared thoughtfully ahead through the windscreen. Lily