In Bed With...Collection

“Family is not a factor in my life, but it’s been very enlightening listening to all your news and the long connections between the Connellys and the Kings. It’s very different from what I’ve known myself.”

She tore her gaze from the miserable embarrassment on Sam’s face and steeled herself to look straight at Nathan who’d started this spotlight on her, digging under her skin again. She might as well hammer home the point that she was an unsuitable match for a King, and knew it too well to imagine any personal relationship between them could be viable.

“The framed photographs along your hallway here…such a history must be fascinating to have…to look back on…to feel a part of…”

“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes burning back a relentless challenge. “And most remarkable are the women who chose to follow their men here and make a life with them on this land. Like Sarah, who ran a brothel in Kalgoorlie, before throwing her lot in with Gerard.”

“Sarah? Who wrote the diaries?” Miranda couldn’t believe it.

“Yes. You might find them interesting to read sometime.”

It must be true, Miranda thought dazedly.

“Then there was Dorothy, a governess on one of the cattle stations in The Territory,” he went on. “One of nine children whose family was so poor she was virtually sold into slave labour. One less mouth to feed.”

He paused to let that information sink in, his eyes mocking any sense of grandeur about his family.

“Irene was the wife of a stockman who was thrown from his horse and died of a broken neck. She had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. She stayed here and married Henry King.”

“But that was in the old pioneering days,” Miranda finally found wits enough to protest. “I daresay there weren’t so many women then who would want to cope with such a life.”

“Not so many women now, either,” Nathan snapped back at her.

“I’m sure you’re wrong. The status is very different now.” She swung her gaze pointedly to Elizabeth King whose necklace of pearls was probably worth a fortune. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“It’s true there are many long-established families in the Kimberly, which give them a kind of status rating over relative newcomers,” she said consideringly. “But our population is so small…what is it, Nathan? Thirty thousand people in an area that covers over three hundred thousand square kilometres?”

“And that clustered mostly around the six major towns,” he said in affirmation.

“For the most part, the outback rule still holds,” Elizabeth King went on. “It’s not so much who you are or where you come from, but what you accomplish here that earns respect and status.”

For the most part…Miranda silently noted that reservation.

“In fact,” Tommy chimed in, “there are so many people with checkered pasts in the Kimberly, it’s wiser to accept them at face value than to inquire too closely.”

“The last outpost of civilisation,” Jared said with a grin.

“Full of colourful characters,” Tommy tagged on.

“But it does take time to earn respect and status,” Miranda said, cutting to the heart of the matter. “The King family has an investment of a hundred years here. And I understand the pearl farms in Broome have been held by the same families for a similar length of time.”

“And have been through as many ups and downs as those working the land,” Elizabeth replied with a wry smile. “When I married Lachlan, all pearling activity in Broome had been virtually dead for years. Mother-of-pearl shell had been the main source of income and that had been undercut by the introduction of the plastic button. It wasn’t until the advent of the cultured pearl that the farms built into the multimillion dollar business they are today. In marrying me, Lachlan got…only me.”

Her gaze moved to Nathan, the dark brown eyes boring straight at her eldest son. “My life was with your father. He was where I wanted to be. It wasn’t until after he died that I returned to Broome and involved myself in the pearl farming. You were old enough to take over from him, Nathan. You know you were. And that was what I couldn’t bear…not King’s Eden…King’s Eden without Lachlan.”

She paused, as though waiting for some critical comment from him. The sense of some running issue be-tween mother and son was very strong. Miranda’s mind spun with possibilities. Had Nathan judged his mother harshly for leaving? Had her departure triggered a mistrust in any woman being content to stay here, since not even his mother would? Was that why he had affairs rather than attempt a serious relationship?

She risked a covert glance at him. His face was like granite, revealing nothing. His eyes were narrowed, their expression veiled by lowered lashes, but his gaze was fixed on his mother. The silence was filling up with tension when he finally spoke.

“You did what you wanted to do,” he said quietly. “I have no quarrel with that.” He paused a moment, then added, “Trying to make people do what they don’t want…is a fool’s game…don’t you think? It never gets the result we’d like.”

Miranda felt the words, as though they were directed at her, reinforcing his claim that he would never manipulate a pressure situation to get what he wanted from her. She darted a glance at him but his gaze remained trained on his mother…a silent clash of wills that probably had nothing to do with her at all.

“Choices are always influenced by other things,” came Elizabeth’s pointed reply. “Which is why the other things need re-examining at times.”

“On that I am in total agreement with you.”

His gaze slid to Miranda, and the knowledge thumped into her heart that he was aware of the effect of his words on her, and every one of them was designed to reshape her view of him.

“I get the impression you’re applying to us the kind of value system that operates in a more sophisticated society than we have here,” he said with an ironic little smile. “Is that so, Miranda?”

Was he implying that wealth and power didn’t count in their lives, in the associations they made?

“You can hardly say your name doesn’t carry weight in the Kimberly,” she asserted, unconvinced that such status was meaningless to this family, despite the examples they had cited.

His eyes mocked her reading of their situation. “It carries the weight of survival…which is what is most valued here.”

“That’s true,” his mother cut in, swinging attention back to her. “The Kings, the Connellys, and my own family are survivors. It takes a certain breed of people—those I’d call of gritty character—to hold on in the Kimberly…to ride the good with the bad. There’s no red carpet, Miranda. If I’d thought you were a red carpet person at heart, I would not have hired you for King’s Eden.”

“I see,” she murmured, relief seeping through her at the realisation she wasn’t viewed as an outsider by Elizabeth King, but as someone with the capability of being an insider. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

“I might add that none of what we have now will survive unless there’s a next generation.” Her dark eyes glittered at Nathan and then moved to Tommy. “What will all your work and enterprise be worth then?”

“We’re not exactly old men,” Tommy protested jokingly.

“Time doesn’t wait,” his mother warned. “People always think there’s plenty of time. Take it from me, Tommy, time runs out and what has been postponed never happens.”

“Ah, now we’re getting back to choice,” Nathan drawled. “Do we seize the day or plan for the future? What do you think, Miranda?”

He was zeroing in on her now, pouring out a current of energy that wound around her and tugged on the desire to pursue whatever might develop between them. Her pulse rate accelerated so quickly she felt dizzy. It was decision time. She could turn him off with her reply or open the door. Denial or risk?

His mother’s words drummed through her mind…time running out…opportunities lost… She didn’t know what her life was moving towards, didn’t know if Nathan King could become an important part of it. All she knew was she no longer wanted to deny the chance that he might.

“I think I would like to read Sarah’s diaries,” she said, playing the safest line she could while inviting more contact with him.

For a moment it seemed she’d startled him. Then his eyes started dancing in amusement and his mouth widened into a grin. “I think you’ll find your interest rewarded. I’ll bring them over to you as soon as Jim Hoskins returns them.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

He laughed, a ripple of joyous warmth that was far more intoxicating than a champagne cocktail.

Whether it was triggered by pleasure or triumph or simply amusement at the way she had answered him, Miranda couldn’t tell. He was stunningly handsome when he laughed, his face alive with magnetic vitality, and it shot a wild zing of elation through her.

He was special.

She couldn’t be feeling like this if he wasn’t.

And right at this moment, she didn’t care what the cost might be of knowing more of him.