Required: Three Outback Brides: Cattle Rancher, Convenient Wife / In the Heart of the Outback... / Single Dad, Outback Wife

‘No he wasn’t, Rory Compton,’ she said with sharp censure. ‘I was the innocent party but don’t worry about it. I thought maybe I could borrow like you.’

‘Really?’ He sat back, his hands locked behind his head. ‘You could try but maybe you wouldn’t be so successful,’ he warned her. ‘You’re a woman and you have no real hands on experience.’

‘All right, I know that!’ she said, giving in to irritation.

‘And what about your big city job? I thought you intended going back to it? Surely you’d miss city life? I mean it couldn’t be a more different world?’

‘Rory, I love the land,’ she told him passionately. ‘I know it’s a little unusual my making such a success of being a fashion editor, but that’s only a little part of me. I doubt I would ever have left home had my mother lived. At the beginning living in the city was like living in a foreign country. After life on the land, I felt so hemmed in by all the tall buildings and so many people rushing about. All our space and freedom was lost to me. You should understand.’

‘Of course I do.’

She nodded. ‘It’s not a nice thing to say, but Val drove me away. Val and Chloe to a certain extent. I was made to feel an outsider in my own home.’

‘Have you a photograph of your mother?’ he asked, sitting straight in his chair again.

She sighed deeply. ‘Sure. Wait here.’

Rory rose and walked to the sink feeling vaguely stunned. The last thing he’d expected when they had first met, was such a glamorous young woman would want to live in isolation. In his experience it was men who did that sort of thing. Solitary men who had pioneered the vast interior before admitting women and children to their lives. He knew plenty of reclusives who could only live in the wilderness. Not that the central plains country was anything like wilderness but Naroom was isolated enough. God knows what she’d make of his desert home! Or what had been his desert home he thought with a stab of pain.

His mind wheeling off in several directions, he began to run some of the salad ingredients—tomatoes, cucumber, a bunch of radishes and some celery—under the tap. He could see the mixed salad greens had been prewashed. He felt like that steak. He hoped she had some good English mustard. He was hungry.

Allegra returned a few moments later, holding a large silver framed photograph to her heart.

He held out his hand. Ah, genetics! he thought, much struck by Allegra’s striking resemblance to her mother. There were the purely cut features, the shape and set of the eyes, the chin held at a perfect right angle to the neck. There was the same flowing hair, the deep, loose waves. The photograph was black and white but he was certain the hair was the same shade as Allegra’s. Even the expression was near identical. Confident, forward-looking, self-assured. Yet this woman had died so tragically young. What a waste!

‘It would have been hard for your stepmother to be confronted every day by the image of the woman her husband truly loved?’ he spoke musingly, finding it in his heart to pity Valerie.

‘Hey, I was only three when Val became my stepmother,’ Allegra pointed out.

‘But the extraordinary resemblance was there. And each year you grew it became more pronounced. By the time you were in your teens you were a powerful rival. Or an ever present reminder if you like.’

She gave him a wounded look. ‘Whose side are you on anyway?’

His expression softened. ‘I’m sorry, Allegra. I can imagine what it was like for you. In my family Jay took after my father. Physically, that is. Jay is nothing like my father, thank God. I took after my mother. I have her eyes like you have your mother’s eyes. Eyes tend to dominate a face. My father loved my mother. Or as much as he could love anyone. He sure doesn’t love me. I was one terrible reminder she left him. I had to pay for my mother’s unforgivable crime.’

‘So there’s a parallel?’ she said more quietly.

‘Oddly, yes. Both of us are outsiders.’

The wind and rain kicked up another notch during the night. He awoke to near perfect darkness. Amazingly he had slept. He never thought he would with Allegra sleeping down the hallway. They had talked until after midnight about their lives, their childhood, events that had shaped them, without her ever giving away the reason for abandoning her marriage. He really needed to know. It had become a burning question. Simply put, how could he truly understand until he knew? His mother’s abandonment had played such a destructive role in his life he had a natural fear of handing over his heart to a woman who one day might cast him aside. God knows it happened.

Afterwards they had walked around the homestead together like an old married couple, checking all the doors and windows. Only the sexual tension both refused to let get out of bounds, betrayed them. Their hands had only to come into fleeting contact for Rory’s hard muscled body to melt like hot wax. He wanted her. He wasn’t such a fool he didn’t know she wanted him. Sexual magnetism. Each was irresistibly drawn to the other, yet each was determined to keep control. Besides, there were dangers in acting on the most basic, powerful instinct.

Something had caused him to come awake. Some noise in the house. Downstairs. Maybe they should have made the French doors more secure by closing the exterior shutters? The verandah did, however, have a deep protective overhang. He stood up, pulling on his jeans, which he had removed from the dryer earlier in the night. He opened the bedroom door and looked down the corridor. All was quiet. Why wouldn’t she be sleeping after such an exhausting afternoon? They had shared a bottle of red wine as well.

It turned out to be what he expected—one of the French doors in the living room. It was rattling loudly as the wind blew against it. He opened one side, latched in back, then stepped out onto the verandah, feeling the invigorating lash of the moisture laden wind. It felt marvellous! Rain to the man on the land was a miracle. The most precious commodity. In the Outback it was either drought or flood. He knew the creek would be in muddy flood by now. Thank God he’d arrived when he had. A woman no matter how willing to chip in wasn’t meant to do backbreaking station work.

It took him only moments to secure the shutters, then the interior doors. One of the bolts on the door had worked its way loose, hence the rattle. He padded back into the entrance hall a little disoriented in a strange house. There was less illumination now that he had pulled the shutters. What he had to do was turn on a few lights before he blundered into something and woke Allegra. He didn’t think he could cope with seeing her floating towards him on her beautiful high arched feet. He just might grab her, pick her up in his arms, and carry her upstairs …

‘God!’ He gave a startled oath as a wraithlike figure walked right into instead of through him. He held the apparition by its delicate shoulders.

‘Allegra!’ He sucked in his breath. Apparitions didn’t have warm, satiny flesh.

‘Who did you think it was, Chloe back home?’ Her voice in the semidarkness came as a soft hiss.

‘Out of the question. Chloe’s shorter and a lot plumper than you.’

‘Don’t for God’s sake ever call her plump to her face.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I tried not to wake you.’

‘When you were making so much noise?’ Her voice rose.

‘Pardon me, I was very quiet. Besides, what were trying to do to me? For a split second I thought you were a witch.’ Very carefully he took his hands off her. Steady. Steady. He could smell her body scent like some powerful aphrodisiac.

‘Witches don’t flap around in nighties.’

He was seeing her more and more clearly. ‘Are you mad? Of course they do. What’s the matter anyway? You’re as much out of breath as if you’ve been running.’

‘I was trying to exercise caution as it happens,’ she admonished him. ‘You gave me a fright, too.’

‘Then I’m sorry. There’s nothing dangerous about me.’

She laughed shakily. What were they doing here, absorbed in a crazy conversation conducted in the near dark? ‘I have news for you, Rory Compton.’

‘Better not to tell me. It was one of the French doors. I’ve closed the shutters. I should have done it before.’

A shiver of excitement came into her voice. ‘The wind is much stronger now.’

It couldn’t be stronger than her magnetic pull. Rory marvelled at his self-control. Maybe honour could explain it? ‘Why are you whispering?’ he asked.

‘I really don’t know and I don’t want to find out,’ she whispered back. ‘We should turn on a light.’

‘Damn, why didn’t I think of that?’

‘The creek will have broken its banks.’

‘Any chance of your speaking louder?’

‘Oh, shut up!’ The tension between then was electrifying. ‘I’m so glad you were here, Rory!’

‘Am here,’ he corrected. ‘Now, where the heck is the light switch for the stairs?’ He knew it was dangerously wrong to keep standing there. Another minute and he’d reach for her. There was only one answer after that.

‘I’ll get it.’ She slipped away like a shadow. Another second and lights bloomed over the stairs and along the upper hallway.

Behind him the tall grandfather clock chimed three.

‘Ah, just as I thought!’ he exclaimed. ‘The witching hour!’