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      CHAPTER ONE

      KATE Brodie stood with her suitcase beside her, her sensible jacket folded over her arm, and looked across the stretch of sunburned grass to the site of her first and worst heartbreak.

      She had hoped to feel calmer about coming back to the Australian Outback after nine years, but her first glimpse of the low, sprawling homestead baking beneath the harsh sun sent her stomach churning like a tumble dryer.

      Such an annoying reaction after all this time. She was no longer the naïve English teenager who’d come to her uncle’s cattle property for a holiday. She’d recovered years ago from the embarrassing crush she’d wasted on Noah Carmody, her uncle’s handsome young stockman.

      Kate looked again at the silent homestead with its ripple-iron roof, reaching low like a shady hat over deep verandas, and her throat tightened painfully. She could almost picture her Uncle Angus standing at the top of the front steps, waiting to welcome her, his silver hair shining in the sun’s dazzle and his smile as wide as his open arms.

      He’d lived in virtual exile in Australia—which had always seemed like the bottom of the world to Kate—but he’d been her only male relative and she’d loved knowing that he was there, like a deep-sea anchor. It was so hard to accept that he’d gone for ever.

      Turning slowly, she looked about her, taking in the vastness, the overwhelming emptiness of the Outback. The tourist coach that had brought her from Cunnamulla had already disappeared into the shimmering heat haze and flat, red earth dotted with grey clumps of dried grass stretched as far as the eye could see.

      Her uncle’s letters had hinted at the prolonged drought in this part of Australia, but she was shocked to see how desperately hot and dry it was.

      Nine years ago, these same parched paddocks had been oceans of lush grass, and the creeks had run with clear, fresh water. Pretty green lawns and bright flower-filled gardens had surrounded the homestead.

      Now, with the gardens gone, every blade of grass shrivelled, and the earth sun-bleached and bone-hard, the homestead had lost its grandeur. It looked sad and faded, as if it, too, had succumbed to the cruelty of the withering sun.

      Four lone frangipani trees had survived the drought and they stood, two on either side of the front steps, like maids of honour. They were ablaze with extravagant blooms, and their gaudy splashes of colour were like thick daubs in an oil painting—pristine white, sharp lemon, deep rosy-pink and rich apricot.

      A photographer’s dream.

      But now wasn’t the time for photographs…

      A hot wind gusted, picking up gritty dust and throwing it in Kate’s face. She ducked her head and blinked hard. After her tediously long journey, dirt in her eyes was almost too much. She was weary to the bone. Jet lagged.

      And she still had to face up to Noah.

      Which shouldn’t be a problem. She was sure Noah Carmody had long forgotten the awkwardness of her teenage infatuation. For heaven’s sake, it had all happened when she was seventeen. Noah had recognised her crush, had taken pity on her and kissed her.

      Unfortunately, she’d responded with a wantonness that had shocked him. That was the embarrassing part Kate fervently hoped Noah had forgotten.

      She’d been so wild and headstrong back then, so desperately in love with him. And with the buoyancy of youth she’d bounced back from his rejection. Focusing on the kiss rather than the rejection, she’d gone home to England with her head full of dreams of leaving school, of getting a job, and saving hard to return to Australia.

      She’d planned to work as a jillaroo in the Outback, to meet up with Noah again, and she’d been sure that, given time, she could win his heart and marry him.

      Fool.

      How pathetic she’d been, fighting her mother’s protests and refusing to get her A levels, or to go to university. She’d given up everything for that one dream. And then, at about the same time she’d earned the money to buy her plane ticket to Australia, word had arrived via Uncle Angus that Noah had married an Australian girl.

      Even now, all these years later, the memory of that letter made Kate’s throat close over. Thank God she’d eventually recovered. It had taken years, but at last Kate was normal. Her latest boyfriend, Derek Jenkins, was a rising star in London banking and Kate was quietly confident that she was over Noah. Completely and permanently over him.

      When she saw him again, she would be as reserved and polite as he’d always been with her, and the only emotion she would show would be her grief over Angus’s passing.

      Now Kate marched resolutely across the final stretch of dirt to the front steps, where an elderly cattle-dog, sleeping beneath the low veranda, lifted his head and blinked hazel eyes at her. He rose stiffly and approached her, his blue-and-white-flecked tail wagging.

      Kate stopped. She hadn’t had much experience of large dogs, and she expected him to bark, but he remained utterly