Required: Three Outback Brides: Cattle Rancher, Convenient Wife / In the Heart of the Outback... / Single Dad, Outback Wife. Margaret Way
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hard to believe any woman could scare you. By the way, it amazes me—I’m not a short woman—but just looking up at you makes me feel dizzy.’
Hell, he felt dizzy just looking down at her. ‘Would you believe you appear small to me?’
‘Then I’ll definitely stick to high heels,’ she said.
He had a sudden vision of her walking up the Cunningham’s staircase, with him admiring her legs. ‘When you get to know me you’ll realise I am scarable,’ he said with a grin. ‘Is that a word?’
‘They let in new words every day.’ They walked on. ‘I know you worry about your brother. I know you’re desperately unhappy beneath the dark Byronic façade.’
‘Please.’ So self-assured, he looked embarrassed.
She decided being able to embarrass him pleased her. ‘Okay,’ she scoffed. ‘So there’s too much romance about Byron for you. Do you know I actually cooked that special lunch for you today because you’ve lost weight even since we met.’
‘Well fancy!’ He gasped in mock surprise. ‘You mean you’ve been studying me with those amazing blue eyes?’
‘I figure if you can look, so can I,’ she answered crisply. ‘Why did you want me to walk with you? Any particular reason?’
‘I’m certain you walk a lot faster than Chloe,’ was his flippant response. ‘Why? Did you have something better to do? Like spend more time with your stepmother and sister?’
‘Your family’s not everything it should be.’ She struck back.
‘Indeed it’s not,’ he agreed with a rasp in his voice. ‘When you think about it, Allegra, the two of us have lived through a lot of stuff. Though I’ve never had the unfortunate experience of being burned by a bad marriage.’
‘What about singed by a love affair that went wrong?’ she asked with feigned sweetness.
He only smiled. ‘Not yet.’
‘Don’t lay money on it not happening,’ she said. ‘Falling in love is a dangerous business.’
‘And your love for your ex-husband wasn’t unconditional?’
‘You’re making me angry, Rory,’ she said. In fact he was making her heart pound.
‘And I don’t blame you. I apologise. You raise my blood pressure, too.’
They had reached his Toyota, now Rory opened the driver’s door.
‘Don’t count on getting this place cheap, either,’ she warned, conscious her body was throbbing in the oddest way.
‘Then I’ll blame you for pushing up the price.’ He turned to fully face her.
They were so close, on a panicked reflex, Allegra stepped back, her heart almost leaping into her throat. It was her turn for embarrassment to wash over her.
‘So long, Allegra,’ he said, his eyes holding a wealth of mockery. He sketched a brief salute. ‘I’ll get back to you in a day or two.’
‘You’ve made up your mind now,’ She slammed his door shut, beating him to it.
He studied her through the open window. The sun was turning her glowing head to fire. ‘Be sure of it,’ he said.
CHAPTER FOUR
JAY paused for a minute to catch his breath. His arms were aching from thrashing through the lignum swamp. His khaki bush shirt was soaked with sweat, his jeans soaked with a green slime and swamp water up to the knees. He and a couple of the men had been hunting up a massive wild boar as big as a calf that kept threatening the herd. They had chased it into the deepest reaches of the swamp where a man on his own would find it very easy to get lost. The swamp was home to countless water birds and pelicans, but was spell-bound to the aborigines who shivering in fear, refused to go into it. Jay didn’t altogether blame them. An unearthly yellow glow emanated from the place, seeping into the air. Rory, of course, afraid of nothing always said it was a sulphur spring. Whatever the eerie glow was, it was almost impossible to get into the swamp’s deepest recesses without a machete. A good enough reason for the boar to make its home in the dense thickets, out of the path of danger where it could wallow to its heart’s content in the mud.
It had made one last stand, its ugly head lowered for a final charge. It glared at them with its little reddened eyes, a ferocious looking animal, its coarse black bristles caked in mud and slime. Two powerful yellowish tusks protruded from its lower jaw, curving upwards in half circles. Sharp tusks that could easily disembowel a man or gore him to death. Spear carrying aborigines on the plain, would have charged the beast and killed it, a manoeuvre so dangerous it made Jay shudder just to think of it, though he knew boar hunting had been considered an exciting sport for hundreds of years. Jay got off a single clean shot to the boar’s heart. Its bulk quivered for a moment on its short powerful legs, then it rolled over with a loud squelching sound into the foul smelling mud.
That exploit had taken them far afield and it was a long ride back before Jay reached the home compound.
He had truly believed he fully appreciated just how much hard yakka Rory put in, day in and day out—how much responsibility he assumed without saying a word. Rory had a natural affinity with animals; all sorts of animals from the wildest rogue brumby hell-bent on freedom to the most docile calf. Rory wouldn’t have spent the best part of the afternoon tracking down that boar. He could read the signs as clearly as any aboriginal. Rory had only been gone a month and already he was sorely missed by all.
Jay missed him terribly. First as a brother and his best friend: then as a buffer between him and their father and thirdly as the cattleman, the Boss-man, who ran Turrawin. Rory was the Compton every last station employee deferred to and took orders from without complaint. Rory was a natural born leader. Such men didn’t come along every day. Their father, Bernard, Jay had long since recognised, had little going for him these days but bluster and a whiplash tongue. With Rory gone there was animosity where there had never been before. Not only that, it was on the rise among the station staff. Not towards him personally—he got on well enough with everyone—but the whole situation. Not content with ordering Rory off the station, their father had let it be known Rory wasn’t coming back. Further more Rory had been disinherited.
What that had achieved was nigh on catastrophic. It had bonded everyone against his father. While the men had greatly admired and respected Rory, working happily in the saddle for him from dawn to dusk, they were becoming discontented and occasionally rebellious under him. Okay they liked him—they even felt sorry for him having the father he did—but they didn’t look to him as the boss.
He wasn’t a cattleman, though God knows he’d struggled to become one. The trouble was his heart wasn’t in it and he wasn’t half tough enough. He wasn’t much good at giving orders, either, or even knowing what best to do in difficult situations when Rory, the man of action, had always come up with a solution right off the top of his head. Jay’s only gift was fixing things, especially machinery. Rory had constantly reassured him that was a considerable gift. He could take any piece of faulty station machinery apart and put it together again in fine working order. Just like he had once longed to put the damaged human body back together.
He was thirty years of age, two years Rory’s senior, but he still longed for the beautiful woman who had been his mother. She had understood him but she had never been strong enough to withstand their father. She was scared of him the same way Jay had been scared of him. The only one who wasn’t scared was Rory. But even Rory had been known to flinch away from their father’s vicious tongue.
Now that Rory was gone their father took it out on him.
He returned to the homestead at dusk, cursing the fact, as he did every day, his father was such a severe man who these days possessed not even a chink of lightness of soul. Bernard Compton had become damned impossible. When Jay entered the kitchen through the back door prior to taking a shower in the adjacent mudroom,