In Bed With...Collection

Decisions firmly made, he alighted from the Land Cruiser, collected her bag and was opening her door before Miranda could collect wits enough to get out of the vehicle by herself. “Thanks,” she murmured as he steadied her wobbly step onto the ground.

“Want to hang onto my arm?” he offered kindly.

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

Too tired to even try to figure out what Nathan was feeling, how he saw her now. There were so many layers to him…kind, caring, ruthless in carrying through decisive action, shouldering responsibility at a moment’s notice, a masterful controller of situations, yet still respectful of others’ choices.

Part of her very much wanted to hang onto him. Part of her recoiled from giving him any reason to wonder if she was the kind of woman Bobby Hewson had painted…perhaps giving him sex yesterday so he would take her side today.

Though it hadn’t been like that.

She hoped Nathan realised it had been some spontaneous need, triggered by the man he was, nothing else. Nevertheless, she could hardly blame him for wondering about it. If enough dirt was thrown, some of it stuck, and Bobby had certainly done his worst to hang dirt on her tonight.

Too sensitive on this point to touch Nathan even accidentally, Miranda kept a safe space between them as she accompanied him inside, down the long central hallway to another hall that ran at right angles to it. They turned into this and halfway along he opened a door, switched on a light and stood back, waving her ahead of him.

It was a very welcoming room, a pretty patchwork quilt on an old-fashioned brass bed, richly polished cedar wardrobes and chests of drawers giving a warm character to the rest of the furnishings. Following her in, Nathan placed her bag on the end of the bed and moved straight to the lamp table near the bedhead, indicating the clock radio there.

“Will five-thirty give you enough time?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He set the alarm, then pointed out the door between the two wardrobes. “Your ensuite bathroom is through there. Would you like me to fetch you a hot drink or…”

“No. I just want to drop into bed. Thanks for looking after me, Nathan. I’m sorry I’ve brought this trouble…”

“It’s not your doing,” he cut in emphatically. “Just put Hewson behind you, Miranda. You won’t see him again, I promise you.”

Seeing Bobby again was not really the problem. As she watched Nathan give her a wide berth as he moved towards the door, she suddenly couldn’t bear the thought that tonight’s nasty insinuations were simmering away in his mind, seeding doubts about her integrity.

“Nathan…”

The needful cry halted him. His shoulders squared before he turned around, and she mentally cringed at what seemed like his reluctance to face her again. He looked back at her with hooded eyes, tensely waiting for her to complete whatever she wanted to say.

Only her deeply ingrained sense of self-worth drove her on, her eyes begging his belief. “I’ve never used sex to—” she agonised over the right words, desperate to correct the impression he might have “—as a tool to gain some advantage for myself.”

“Miranda, if that was the way you worked, you would have targeted Tommy,” he said with quiet conviction. “Don’t fret over what we might think. Neither Tommy nor I will be shaken from what we’ve seen of you and how you’ve conducted yourself since you’ve been at King’s Eden.”

Tears pricked her eyes.

“You have earned the right to our support and pro-tection,” he went on. “So rest easy tonight, knowing you have it and we won’t fail you.”

She nodded, too choked up to speak. No one had ever thrown support behind her like this, such an unstinting degree of faith and loyalty. It gave her almost a sense of belonging, as though she was accepted as one of their own.

Nathan moved back to where she’d stayed, near the bag at the foot of the bed, and gently touched her cheek. “It must have been rough, growing up in such an insecure environment,” he murmured sympathetically. “I admire what you’ve made of yourself, Miranda. It shows a lot of grit…a strong drive for survival. Don’t let that slimy bastard beat you down now because you’re worth a million of him. He’s glitter and you’re gold. Believe me…I know.”

His hand dropped to her shoulder and he gave it a light squeeze. “Tomorrow is another day. Okay?”

“Yes,” she managed huskily.

His mouth curved into an ironic little smile. “Who knows? We might even make a go of marriage, you and I.”

He left her with that thought. Miranda had no idea if he was even remotely serious but just the idea of the possibility served to lift a cold, leaden weight off her heart. She touched her cheek where he had touched it, treasuring the lingering sense of warmth. It felt good.

And tomorrow was another day.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#ud535c0fb-8216-5cc4-a273-7d8e9771b73f)

MIRANDA had no trouble putting Bobby Hewson behind her the next day. She was literally transported to another world. From the safety of Nathan’s helicopter, she watched in awe at the incredible skill of the pilots in the two bubble helicopters, swooping from side to side as they flushed cattle out from under scrubby trees and drove them from watercourses, the clatter of the blades and the roar of the motors relentlessly pressing them into a mob and moving them towards a stock-camp.

On the ground, fences were cut in front of the gathering herd as it was funnelled from paddock to paddock and the numbers kept swelling. By lunch-time several hundred head of cattle had been mustered and driven halfway to the holding yards, where the weaned calves were to be branded and the stock for sale selected.

Nathan had informed her over breakfast that the station ran about thirty-six thousand head of cattle, and six thousand were trucked away each year. The breeding program he’d instigated more than made up these numbers. In different parts of the station were Brahman and English Shorthorn breeds, but these were Africanders, handsome red beasts who could thrive in the most arid areas.

Their movement and colour looked stunning on the backdrop of the vast, beige Mitchell grass plains. There was a wild element to the mustering that added the thrill of danger, a pitting of man against the challenge of the landscape and the unpredictability of cattle that were used to going where they willed, yet there was also a marvellous orchestration to it—the men and machines on the ground supporting the men and machines in the air, gradually dominating a long practiced strategy against the seemingly indomitable.

This was what Nathan’s life was about, Miranda realised, and the grand sweep of it deeply impressed her; the understanding of how it worked, the skill and experience at controlling what was controllable, the management of time and place, and at the heart of it, an environment that demanded an intimate knowledge of its unique natural harmony.

They had lunch by the river, close to where drums of fuel had been set up for the helicopters. Nathan was clearly at ease with his stockmen, welcomed into their company, Miranda accepted without any fuss. A fire had been lit and a billy of water put on to make tea. They sat under the shade of trees and ate damper and slabs of cold meat, the men chatting over the morning’s progress, Miranda content to simply immerse herself in the sights and sounds around her.

Here on the ground she could hear the thunder of hooves and the bellowing of the cattle. She could taste and smell the dust of the mob, and watch the tight intricate ballet of the mustering helicopters. Somehow it made life very vivid, real and earthy in a bigger sense than Miranda had ever experienced before. It was strangely intoxicating as though something heady had seeped into her bloodstream.

The heat of the day added a shimmering haze to the light and when Nathan stood up, marking the end of their lunch-break, an aura seemed to gleam from him, lending even more stature to the man. He turned his gaze to her and the blue magnets of his eyes drew on her soul as though he was willing her to be bonded with him and in more than a physical sense.

His outback empire was both harsh and beautiful and she had the strong feeling he was asking if she could be part of it, if she could accept it and live with it as he did…and she knew in that instant there was nowhere for them to go unless she could honestly say yes. Impossible to make a marriage on sexual attraction alone, if marriage really was on his mind. It was this land that had first claim on Nathan—always would—and if she couldn’t share it with him, she lost what truly made him what he was.

A subtle challenge rang through his voice as he said, “Time to move on,” and held out a hand to pull her up onto her feet.

He didn’t ask her if she was tired, if she’d prefer to stay at the camp by the river. Taking his hand symbolised her willingness to be where he was, see what he saw, learn the enduring pattern of his life firsthand and judge if she could fit into it. Miranda understood this intuitively, yet the feel of his hand enveloping hers was far more immediate, stimulating a strong awareness of the sexuality zinging through their physical togetherness.

He kept possession of her hand as they walked back to his helicopter and Miranda felt like dancing, her heart was so joyously lightened by the prolonged link. Nathan hadn’t exactly been distant towards her since last night but his manner had remained strictly on a friendly, matter-of-fact level, which she had found inhibiting.

It was almost as though he was denying they had ever shared any intimacy and she hadn’t been sure if this was to reassure her of no sexual pressure intended this weekend, or if he was reserving judgement on there being any possible future in their relationship.

There would be no false promises from Nathan King. Miranda had no doubts on that score. But his hand said he did want her and that hadn’t changed. She couldn’t resist moving her fingers slightly, savouring the touch of rough skin and warm strength, craving the solidity of all this man emitted.

He shot her a questing glance. “You were quiet over lunch.”

“I had nothing to contribute.”

“You could have asked questions.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.”

“I don’t want you to feel like an intruder, Miranda.”

“I don’t. I just wanted to listen, to take everything in.”

“So what did you think?” His eyes were more intensely probing this time.