A Bride At Birralee

‘I don’t have a damned clue. But if you tell me—’

She shook her head. ‘There’s no point. No one can help.’

But he wouldn’t give up. ‘What kind of work do you do? On the one brief occasion we met in the past, I don’t think we talked about mundane things like jobs.’

They exchanged one lightning-quick glance, then both looked away. Stella fought to ignore the sudden memory of his strong body, hard against hers, his hot, hard mouth taking hers. ‘I—I work with weather.’

‘A weather girl? Like on TV?’

‘Sort of. I’m not actually on TV, but I help to supply them with their information.’

He frowned. ‘You’re a meteorologist?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you couldn’t do that if you had a baby?’

‘Not—’ She took a deep breath. What the heck? Here goes… ‘—not if I was on location in the Orkney Isles or Russia.’

There was no disguising his shock. ‘Russia? What kind of job are you talking about?’

She told him about the documentary project scheduled to begin six weeks after her baby was due. ‘I’d be based in London, but I’d be expected to travel, mostly studying coastlines. It’s a job I’ve been working towards for ages and an offer like that is highly prized in my circle.’

Callum’s lips pursed as he released a low whistle. ‘I’ll bet it is.’

‘But, of course, a newborn baby doesn’t fit in the picture.’

He was scowling again. ‘I can see how this baby has completely wrecked your plans.’ He didn’t say anything more for at least a minute, just sat there as if he was carved from stone. At last he said, ‘So you didn’t want Scott to marry you and you didn’t want his money. What was it you wanted from him?’

‘It doesn’t matter any more. It can’t happen.’

‘Tell me anyhow.’

Stella ran nervous fingers through her hair. Then she sighed loudly. ‘I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy, but I was hoping Scott might be able to look after the baby for a while—so I could still go to London.’

Telling Callum had not been a good idea. He looked pale and distinctly unhappy. He sat staring at the table for several long, silent minutes. At last he spoke very quietly. ‘You really are in a bind, aren’t you?’ And then he ran his big hand over his face, almost as if he was trying to hide his reaction.

Suddenly he jumped to his feet and mumbled that he’d better get on with some work. ‘Help yourself to any books or magazines, rest up, watch TV. Eat what you like from the fridge or the pantry.’ In the doorway, he turned back. ‘I’ll leave Mac behind for company.’

Then he hurried down the veranda as if he couldn’t wait to get away.

Blackjack’s hooves thundered beneath Callum, drumming the hard earth and pounding over the red plains of Birralee. Faster, harder, he pushed his mount, but nothing eased his raging, inner turmoil.

Eventually, he pulled to a shuddering halt on the crest of a headland that offered spectacular views down a red-walled gorge. It was the place he always came to when he needed to think.

Today his thoughts boiled. Why did it have to be Stella Lassiter who’d come to him with this problem? He didn’t know what upset him more: the fact that the woman, who had roused him from apathy to passion in the briefest of encounters, now carried a part of Scott within her and might take it away to the far ends of the earth, or the knowledge that her relationship with Scott had become intimate.

Slumping in the saddle, he sat in a gut-clenched daze while his mind overflowed, teeming with memories of the night he’d met Stella…

He’d gone to Sydney with Scott to check out the prizewinning stock at the Royal Easter Show and, afterwards, Scott had taken him to a party. He’d seen Stella the instant he’d entered the room.

She’d been standing on her own at the far side of the crowd, watching the revellers with her chin at a haughty angle and an aloof expression on her face. Callum had been seized by an urge to stare.

She’d looked bold and bewitching. Her hair had been as dark and shiny as polished ebony and her sleeveless silk dress, the colour of rich claret, vibrant against the smooth ivory of her skin.

Her gaze had met his. She’d looked across at him and had smiled.

And the next moment had been like something out of a movie. He’d begun to walk towards her through the crowd. She’d watched him all the way. When he’d reached her, he’d been strangely out of breath, a little star-struck and suddenly shy, almost embarrassed by the spell that had seemed to have drawn him to her.

But then he’d looked into her clear grey eyes and had felt such a deep, immediate connection that he’d known that if he lived to be two hundred, he would never forget the moment.

Scott’s laughing voice had sounded in his ear. ‘Oh, so you’ve met Stella. Good.’ He took her hand and placed it in Callum’s. ‘Stella, this is my big brother, Callum. Be nice to him. He’s rough around the edges, but not quite as grim as he looks.’

Then Scott slapped Callum on the shoulder before disappearing off into the crowd to find a drink.

Callum asked Stella to dance and she hesitated at first. Her eyes followed Scott, watching as he reached the bar and started to chat up a pair of pretty girls. In hindsight, Callum realised he should have picked up on the obvious clue of her worried glance after Scott, but he’d been so determined to win her, he’d ignored anything that might get in his way.

When she warmly accepted his invitation to dance, he was as relieved as a nervous schoolboy.

The party’s host had hired a band and the music was good. He enjoyed the physicality of dancing. Stella was a responsive partner and the electrifying spell that had drawn him to her continued to weave its sorcery.

Their smiling gazes linked and held as her slender curves brushed against him. He watched the growing warmth and awareness in her eyes as, time and again, their bodies met, tantalised, then swung apart.

When the music slowed, he couldn’t wait another heartbeat to draw her closer, but when he did, the slow, sensual swaying of her slim hips beneath his hands and the sweet pressure of her breasts drove him to the limits of his control. He’d never been so highly sensitised, so exquisitely on edge, so jealous of the barriers of thin, teasing silk.

Dancing with Stella, gazing into her eyes, holding her in his arms, inhaling her…wasn’t enough.

And the high colour in her cheeks, the wild smoky haze in her eyes and the catch in her breathing told him that she shared the same amazing need that was flaring in him.

He bent his lips to her ear. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

She nodded quickly and they fled from the brightly lit party rooms into the garden.

Moonlight sheened Stella’s hair and silvered her pale skin as he tasted her at last. Her mouth was honey-sweet, yielding and passionate and he kissed her hard, taking everything with no more permission than the promise in her smile.

It was as if Stella was the first woman, the only woman he’d ever kissed, as if her mouth had been fashioned for his mouth and his alone, her breasts for his hands, her sweet femininity for his unforgiving hardness.

God knew what might have happened if the bright laughter of other party guests hadn’t sounded close by. Entangled in each other’s arms, they stood as quietly as their ragged breathing would allow, while laughing couples wandered past with a clinking of bottles.

When they were alone again, Callum drew her towards him once more, but he knew even before she stiffened and stepped away, that the magic had gone. For her the spell was broken.

‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she moaned. ‘We must go inside.’

‘Stay,’ he ordered, his voice thick and brusque with desire still rampant in his veins.

‘I’m not a cattle dog, Callum,’ she muttered before turning and walking quickly ahead of him back into the house.

Once inside, she asked for a drink. When he returned with wine, she drank half of it quickly, then placed the glass on a nearby table.