Australia: In Bed with a King: The Cattle King's Mistress. Emma Darcy
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he answered indulgently. “I’d like to have a look around the resort. See how it works.”
“Business!” She heaved a vexed sigh.
He ignored it, looking over her shoulder at Miranda, his amber eyes gleaming tigerishly. “I’d like a personal tour, Miranda.”
With her, he meant, and every fighting instinct rose to the fore. He was not going to get at her. She would not let him. “As you like. I’ll call a guide to come and show you what you want to see.”
“Come now, Miranda,” he cajoled, steering his wife onto the verandah so that he could step up for a direct confrontation, his body language emitting confident demand. “Don’t I merit you as my guide?”
She tried to construct an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not free this afternoon.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could delegate your responsibilities.”
“This isn’t a big city hotel, Bobby, and doesn’t run like one,” she explained reasonably. “All my staff have very specific responsibilities…”
“And I have a special request which I have no doubt your employers would understand and appreciate,” he cut in, his eyes as hard as gold nuggets.
The threat of blackmail had no teeth here, yet the vindictive ego behind it caused her heart to contract. The thought of Nathan standing by her gave her the courage to defy any pressure to fall in with Bobby Hewson’s will.
“I can provide a guide,” Miranda repeated firmly. “However, if you wish to arrange something with the King family, I believe Nathan King will be here this evening.”
And he won’t bend to your will, either, she thought with savage satisfaction.
“Ah! So you can leave this business until then, Bobby.” Celine jumped in, curling her arm around his and pouting up at him. “I want you with me.”
“Well, if it’s important to you, pet…” He patted his wife’s hand, smiled at her, but there was no smile in the eyes he turned back to Miranda. They glittered with the promise of getting what he wanted, one way or another. “I shall look forward to meeting Nathan King tonight.”
“Guests usually gather around the bar from six o’clock onwards for pre-dinner drinks,” she informed them, then stood back to make way for the porter, a cheerful American lad who was working his way around Australia. “The Shiralee Suite, Eddie. The key is in the door.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you’ll follow me, folks.”
A Jeep zoomed up to the homestead.
“There’s your guide for the gorge trip,” Miranda pointed out. “When you’re ready…”
“We will not be long,” Celine assured her, pulling Bobby with her in her zest to be off sight-seeing.
Miranda watched them follow their luggage inside, thinking Bobby’s wife had no idea what she had married. Or maybe she did and was happy to go along with what he gave her anyway. She herself might have remained indefinitely in his charm-web if this marriage hadn’t come up. It was a sickening thought.
As it was, her pulse was still galloping from the stressful encounter. She took a deep breath and headed down the path to give instructions to the guide in the Jeep. He could wait inside for the Hewsons. She didn’t want to see them again until she had to. Hopefully Nathan would be with her by then.
Nathan…
As the afternoon wore on into early evening, her confidence in his support started wavering. Could she really trust her instincts about the kind of man Nathan was when she’d been so fooled by Bobby for three whole years?
He was different, she argued. He felt different. And he didn’t emit a glamorous facade. There was nothing ephemeral about him, more solid substance that wasn’t going to change. Or was that hope, more than reality?
Bobby could influence and manipulate people. He would not be so blatant in showing Nathan the ruthless dismissal of anything that stood in his way. He would appeal as to a peer who understood how the world really worked, man to man. And he would slyly undermine her credibility, dressing up lies with half-truths, perhaps even suggesting she had slept her way up in the trade.
Would Nathan still take her side against such supposedly confidential and authoritative information? What did he really know of her, apart from the little she’d told him?
Even if he did take her side, how could she be sure he was doing it because he believed her, or because he wanted to keep having sex with her?
And that was the most unsettling thought of all.
TEN past six.
And Nathan wasn’t here!
Miranda had finished introducing the Hewsons to the other new guests who had arrived before lunch, as well as suffered Bobby’s smarmy hug of familiarity as he confided their former professional connection to the group. Her skin was still prickling with revulsion as she escaped his stroking fingers with the excuse of fetching a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
A mistake to have worn this dress. Its shoe-string straps left too much flesh exposed for wandering hands. She’d chosen it because it was a bright lemon colour and she had matching sandals and the outfit had always made her feel upbeat and confident. Tonight she needed all the confidence she could get.
And she had wanted to look good for Nathan!
Was it another mistake to count on him?
She was half-way to the bar to put in a call to the kitchen when she heard a vehicle pulling up outside. Not the sound of one of the resort Jeeps. A more powerful engine. Her heart did a flip and a heady mixture of hope and relief surged through her. It had to be Nathan arriving!
Forgetting the hors d’oeuvres, she did an about-turn and headed for the doors to the front verandah, her pulse skipping erratically. She wanted him. She needed him. Doubts about his motives were momentarily blotted out. The doors in front of her opened automatically to her approach. In a few blurred seconds she was at the head of the steps to the verandah, and there her swiftly moving feet came to a halt.
It was him.
He was rounding the bonnet of a Land Cruiser, his big solid frame silhouetted against the sunset. He paused as he caught sight of her waiting to welcome him, and her heart hammered wildly at the strong visual image of him, stamped on the vibrant colours of the outback sky—long horizontal streaks of yellow behind the black spindly trees on the flat horizon, red and purple clouds clustered above them—and this man…this man looking like a lord of it all, whom nature itself was glorifying.
Then he was striding up the path and the very same skin that had crawled at Bobby’s touch started tingling as Nathan’s electric energy poured towards her. A quiver ran down her thighs. Her toes curled. Her mind throbbed his name over and over…Nathan, Nathan, Nathan…
She didn’t hear the doors slide open behind her.
But she heard the voice and the slimy confidence in it as it said, “Ah! Mr King arriving?” and her heart froze as Bobby Hewson stepped up beside her, once again hanging his arm around her shoulders in an insidious claim of ownership, right in front of Nathan!
The shock of it completely paralysed her. She saw Nathan’s step slow, his gaze dart from her to Bobby and back to her, and her mind jammed in horror at what he might be reading from Bobby’s action.
“Good evening, Miranda,” he greeted her coolly as he came to the end of the path.
His coolness jolted her tongue loose. “I expected you earlier, Nathan,” she snapped, hating the situation his tardiness had set up.
Suddenly