The Mirrabrook Marriage

Panicking cattle often tried to break away as they neared the gate, so it was time to forget her foolish heartache and to concentrate on the job at hand. Time for the cattle dogs to show their mettle, working extra hard as they edged the mob forward.

Reid would man the gate, while the two ringers positioned themselves on either side. Sarah’s role was to stay at the rear of the herd, ready to round up any breakaways.

Over the backs of the sea of cattle, she watched the effortless grace with which Reid dismounted, an action as natural as breathing for a man of the outback. Once he was on the ground she could only see a shoulder-high view of him—of his battered Akubra and his blue shirt straining over hard-packed muscles as he tethered his horse. Then she heard the rattle of the gate being opened.

Keeping her horse on the move, she weaved back and forth, nudging the stragglers to stay with the mob. Only when everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly did she let her thoughts roll forward to what would happen next, after this muster.

Reid would invite her up to the homestead to join him and the ringers for an evening meal. But should she accept this time as she had every other time?

It was always pleasant to stop off at the homestead to take a shower and rid herself of layers of dust before heading back into town to her own little house. And it was more than pleasant to spend a couple of hours in Reid’s company, sharing a meal and conversation, a drink or two and a laugh or three. But these days it was bittersweet torment too.

Surely she’d put herself through that kind of misery one time too many. At some point very soon she would have to—

A flash of tan to her right cut through her thoughts. A beast had turned and bolted and now others were following. And she’d been caught napping.

To Sarah’s shame her mount, Jenny, a well-trained stock horse, reacted before she did. Darn. Once again she’d let Reid McKinnon mess with her head and now her pride was at stake. No jillaroo worth her salt let cattle escape at this final stage of a muster.

Precious seconds late, she pressed her knees into Jenny’s flanks and crouched low in the saddle as the horse took off after the escapees.

More by good luck than good management she caught up with the leader before the breakaways reached the heavy timbers. Then it was a matter of thinking and acting quickly. Turning her horse in an instant, she drew on all her riding skills to change direction often and fast until at last she’d rounded them up.

To her relief the cattle gave in and trotted obediently back towards the main mob. And Sarah refused to give Reid McKinnon another moment’s thought until the last beast was fenced in.

The sun was slipping westward by the time the job was done. The ringers stayed down at the yards, making sure the cattle were calm and, as the last of the coppery light lingered, Sarah and Reid walked the four horses up to the saddling enclosure.

There they removed the saddles and washed the horses’ backs and gave them a small feed of grain. Sarah concentrated on giving the animals the very best attention and she tried hard not to take any special notice of Reid working nearby.

Tried not to watch the neat way his well-worn faded jeans hugged his behind as he bent down to examine one of the horses’ shoes. Tried not to steal glimpses of his muscular forearms or his strong tanned hands as they stroked a horse’s neck. Especially, she tried not to remember how those hands had once caressed her intimately, bringing her the piercing sweet pleasure of a lover’s touch.

No! she chastised herself. She had to get over it and get over him!

Shaking her head at her own hopelessness, she hurried to stow the saddles in the tack room. Why couldn’t she just accept that Reid wasn’t interested in her?

For him, their past had never happened; they had never been uninhibited, ecstatic, totally smitten lovers.

Under the guise of friendship, he’d continued to partner her to local balls and charity dos that raised money for the Flying Doctors, or the School of the Air. Every so often he would amble in to town to buy her a coffee at Beryl’s café, or a drink at the pub. And on odd occasions he called in at her place on the way home from a day’s fishing on the river and delivered a fish or two. He’d even filleted them and cooked them for her.

And she had been pathetically grateful for whatever crumbs of friendship he threw her way.

Problem was—and for Sarah it was a huge problem—her major stumbling block—there were other times when she was just as certain that Reid was still attracted to her—deeply.

There were times when he’d taken her home from a ball or a party and they’d said goodnight and she’d sensed a terrible tension between them. Times when Reid had looked at her—looked at her—with a breath-robbing mixture of despair and longing that was impossible to misinterpret.

But he hadn’t kissed her. He’d always covered the awkward moment with a joke and then turned quickly and hurried back to his vehicle.

Those moments had caused her too many sleepless nights.

Now, as she stepped back through the tack room doorway, Reid turned and he looked straight towards her and he seemed to freeze. He stood rock still in the middle of the yard, staring at her.

It was happening again.

That hunger in his eyes wasn’t a fantasy conjured by her overwrought imagination. The feverish heat and dark longing were real. And her poor heart felt as if it had taken off for the moon.

Deep colour stained Reid’s cheekbones. His chest rose and fell as if he’d suddenly run out of breath and his face was a mirror of the same deep yearning she felt for him.

The sight of it unleashed a terrible tumult inside her. The usual tumult. Each time this happened it trapped her afresh. Each time she hoped that this time Reid would haul her into his arms and show her with his body what he couldn’t tell her. Show her the truth…that he loved her still.

This time…

It had to happen. Had to be this time.

They couldn’t go on like this. It was hopeless.

Hopeless…

Hopeless. The hollow, desolate word echoed and clanged in her head.

Perhaps it was that empty echo or perhaps it was the effect of the afternoon sunlight, gilding Reid with a bronzed glow that made him more unbearably handsome than ever. Whatever the reason, Sarah suddenly knew that this had to be a turning point.

A man who looked at a woman with that kind of hunger should push her against a wall and kiss her for a week. He should grab her and haul her down into the hay bales in the corner of the yard. She wouldn’t allow Reid to look at her as if he wanted to make love to her and dismiss the moment with another grin, another joke.

If he did…she had no choice; she would walk away from him today and not come back. She would leave the district—apply for a transfer and take a teaching post in another part of the state. Reclaim her life.

Her heart thumped painfully as she watched him stoop to pick up his saddle. She didn’t move as he began to stride across the yard towards her and she couldn’t help running her tongue over her lips to rid them of dust.

His eyes followed the movement and hungry shadows darkened his silver irises. He drew close and she held her breath.

Just toss that saddle aside and kiss me, Reid. I’m yours. You know I’ve always been yours.

A breathless hush seemed to fall over the bush as he stopped in front of her. It was so quiet she could hear the pounding rhythm of her blood drumming in her veins.

He stopped so close in front of her that she could see the individual grains of skin on his strong jaw and the tiny pinprick beginnings of his dark beard.

This is your last chance, Reid.

Behind him, one of the horses made a soft snuffling snort.

The sound seemed to break the spell. Reid’s mouth tilted into a lopsided smile.

And Sarah’s heart sank straight through the hard-packed dirt of the horse yard.

‘You’ve got a leaf caught in your hair,’ he said, reaching with his free hand to pluck something from a dark strand that hung over her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and her chest squeezed the breath from her lungs as his hand brushed close to her cheek without quite touching. She felt the flick of his fingers against her hair and the brush of his wrist on her shoulder, but when she dared to open her eyes again he was moving past her to set the saddle inside the tack room.

She knew that when he returned the dark emotion in his eyes would be replaced by a milder light and he would be smiling easily.

But no.