He examined the crown of Anne’s grey head as she and Connor reminisced. Some of the dresses might have been in her cupboard for decades, but thanks to his stepmother and stepsister’s love of all things exclusive, he’d recognized some modern designer brand names. Just like Anne having a phone on hand for Paige, it also seemed a coincidence her dresses fitted Paige like a glove considering she was at least a head taller. There was far more to Anne than her mild-mannered librarian appearance suggested.
He checked the wall clock. Their reluctant model hadn’t made a runway appearance for a good while. He pushed his coffee away and stood up.
‘I’ll check on Paige. She’s taking too long.’
Connor and Anne looked up and smiled.
He took the stairs two at a time and at the landing turned right to head to Paige’s side of the house. He knocked on what he assumed to be her bedroom door. A muffled answer sounded. He opened the heavy door. And stopped.
Facing the window, Paige stood in the middle of her room, trying to slide her arms through the sleeves of a fitted red dress. Apart from the horizontal strap of her black bra, and the fall of her loose hair, he had an unlimited view of her slender back all the way down to where the red dress reached just above her butt.
‘Anne, I don’t know how this fitted you because it sure doesn’t fit …’ She swung around.
If he hadn’t seen it himself, he wouldn’t have believed Paige’s mouth could hang open. But it did, for five seconds, before she slammed it shut.
Her splayed hand secured the dress to her chest, her eyes sparked with indignation. ‘Next time you knock, I’d appreciate you saying who you were.’
He gave a mock bow, complete with hand flourish. ‘As you wish, Princess Paige. In the
future I’ll announce my arrival properly.’
A small smile curved her lips. ‘Very funny.’
‘I thought so.’
He strode towards her as though he often walked in on her while dressing. It didn’t matter how much his testosterone danced at finding her half-naked, he had to behave himself. She’d fought too hard to avoid the ball for him to give her an excuse to pull out now.
‘You seemed to be taking a long time. What’s the problem?’ She peered at him suspiciously but he kept his expression neutral. ‘Thanks to chauffeuring my young stepsister and her giggling gaggle of friends to their school formals, I happen to know a few things about wardrobe disasters.’
Paige looked down at the red dress that barely cleared the top of her breasts. ‘This isn’t so much of a wardrobe disaster as a wardrobe stalemate. The dress won’t go up. Or down. I’m stuck.’
‘Okay. Turn around.’
Expression still dubious, she did as he asked.
He ignored the smooth slope of her bare shoulder and pulled the side of the dress upward. It slid a little higher and then stalled.
‘I think the problem is the lining seems to be all twisted. It could be caught on something, maybe the zipper?’
Paige lifted her elbow, while still holding the dress’s bodice in place. ‘You’re probably right. Here, the zip’s on this side.’ She lifted her arm higher. ‘I think this is where the trouble started.’
Hands on her waist, he spun her around to take a look. ‘Yup. The zip’s not done up and the hook-thingy is caught.’
‘Hook-thingy?’ she teased. ‘Nice technical term.’
‘See, I told you I was an expert,’ he said, concentrating on the zip and not on the soft swell of Paige’s left breast. His fingers fumbled.
‘How is it going there, city boy?’
Did he imagine it or was Paige’s breathing becoming a little more rapid?
‘Fine. You’ve done a good job of getting the zip stuck.’
She wriggled.
‘Stay still.’ His fingers again slipped off the zip. Silently cursing, he looked around the room to distract himself from the fullness of her curves that were definitely rising and falling at a faster rate. He saw her dress-strewn bed. Bad choice. He tore his gaze away and focused on the shelf of trophies, award ribbons and a photograph of a young Paige on a grey pony.
‘Is that pony in the photograph above your bed Gidget?’
She swivelled around to look at the shelf. ‘Yes. I probably should have packed them away years ago.’ There was a tinge of embarrassment in her voice. ‘My room must look like a time capsule.’
Tait straightened and moved away. He desperately needed to breathe in fresh air and not the rose scent of her skin.
‘There isn’t anything wrong with keeping things how you like them. I’ve lost track of how many reincarnations the dining room has survived courtesy of my stepmother.’
Paige’s room with its floral wallpaper, pink and white curtains and Queen Anne dressing table covered in photographs might be a style his fashionista stepsister would screw her nose up at, but it suited Paige.
‘It looks perfect to me.’
‘That’s what I think, too. Mum and I decorated it when I was ten and I like to think one day her grandchild might sleep in here.’
‘Nice thought, but if you have all boys you’ll be in trouble.’
She grimaced. ‘Heaven help me if cousin Charles has all boys. The house will be turned into some sort of Army fort. Charles still has a bow-and-arrow collection, you know.’
She bit her lip and pulled hard on the front of the dress. It didn’t budge. ‘Talking about Banora Downs’ next generation won’t get me out of this bloody dress.’
Tait resumed his position by Paige’s side. She didn’t fool him. She might pretend she didn’t care if she wasn’t the one to provide Banora Downs with the next generation, but she was lying. He tugged at the stubborn zip for a third time. ‘You know, this might require scissors.’
‘No.’ Paige stiffened. ‘I’m starting to think that when it comes to ball dresses I really am jinxed. Please keep trying.’
‘Okay. Lift your arm higher and breathe in.’ Paige followed his instructions and Tait jiggled the zip. ‘If I can get my finger under …’ The teeth pulled free of the thin lining.
‘Thank God,’ Paige sagged with relief. ‘I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about being swallowed alive.’
‘Do you want me to zip you up?’
‘No way.’ She took careful steps towards her bed. But even with her care, the long hem trapped her feet. ‘Argh.’ She bent to scoop up the skirt, giving him a double flash of creamy cleavage and slender legs. ‘I’ve just about had enough of this ball.’
‘Just relax,’ he said as he approached the bed and sifted through the gowns. He needed to take his own advice. Otherwise it wouldn’t just be Anne’s dresses strewn across Paige’s bed. A single impulsive move from him towards Paige and all ball plans would be off.
He selected a strapless, floor-length dress with a black tie around the empire waist. He held it out to her. ‘Here, try this one on.’
‘White?’ She hesitated and then took it from him. ‘With all the dust?’
‘Well, if you stay out of the chook pen and away from fences you won’t get dirty.’
‘You were eavesdropping when Anne and I were in the drawing room.’
He grinned. ‘No, Bundy and I were simply waiting for the best time to make our grand entrance.’ He passed her the dress. ‘Try it on.’ His smile widened. ‘I could stay, you know, just in case the zip gets stuck …’
She swiped the dress at him. ‘Out. Now. Before I wallop you with one of my trophies!’
The yelps of a puppy punctuated Paige’s restless dreams. She prised her eyes open and listened. Nothing. Bundy would be tucked up asleep in the laundry. Her lids drifted shut. Again she thought she heard a cry. Her ears strained but then all she could detect was silence. She kicked off her sheet and peered at the luminous dials on her alarm clock. It was only two in the morning and she’d had at least three hours of sleep. It felt like she’d had none.
She sighed and left her bed. She was awake now and may as well go downstairs and check adorable Bundy. He might be uncertain about his first night in his new home.
The hallway floorboards creaked as she made her way towards the laundry. But as she turned past the library she caught the dull glow of lamplight. She stifled a yawn. Trust her father to be reading late. Anne had left a pile of books beside his favourite reading chair. However, when Paige entered the small room it wasn’t her father she saw resting in the tipped-back recliner it was Tait, still dressed in jeans and a shirt, stretched out in the chair, his feet bare. By his left side snuggled a small grey and white bundle.
He looked up with a half-smile and raised a finger to his lips. She nodded as Bundy
opened an eye and closed it. Tait then pointed to a burgundy throw rug folded in a basket out of reach. She nodded again. Her father had positioned the old leather chair directly beneath the air-conditioner vent. If Tait was planning on sleeping there with Bundy he’d need the light rug. She collected the throw and shook it open. Bundy wriggled, whined, then burrowed deeper beneath Tait’s arm. Her gaze on the pup, Paige moved forward to toss the rug over man and dog … and tripped on what had to be Tait’s discarded boots. The toes of her right foot cannoned into the metal recliner base. Her gasp of pain dissolved into one of shock as she tumbled forward directly onto Tait. Her elbow dug into his stomach as she tried to right herself and climb off his lap. Tait groaned.
‘For God’s sake, Paige, lie still. You’ll wake Bundy as well as make sure I’ll never have any kids.’
‘I’ve got to get up.’
‘No, you don’t.’ His hand settled around her waist as he eased her against him. ‘At least wait five minutes until Bundy is asleep. Otherwise
you
can be on Bundy night-duty.’
He reached for the throw hanging over the edge of the chair and, one-handed, tucked it around their legs, careful to leave Bundy uncovered.
She swallowed and lowered her head until it rested upon his shoulder. The pounding of her heart drowned out the throbbing of her foot. Lying so close to Tait was so not a good idea. She’d already had little sleep thanks to dreams of him kissing her. She didn’t need the reality of knowing how perfectly she fitted against him, how good his warm, hard chest felt beneath her palms …
His fingers brushed the hair away from her face before settling in the small of her back. Warning lights flashed but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. It was as though the brief touch of his hand on the strip of bare skin between her shorts and singlet paralysed her. His fleeting touch became a caress. Still she couldn’t move. Even when his hand slipped inside her singlet
and slowly traced the line of her spine. Her fingers curled into his chest, wanting more than the feel of coarse cotton beneath them. His hand moved higher, massaging the stubborn knots that refused to unkink and melting her senses with feather-soft, sensual circles.
As if controlled by an invisible string, her head tipped back. Just like at the billabong, hunger darkened his eyes, but this time she also glimpsed an unexpected seriousness before his mouth slid over hers. Possessive, tender, seeking, he kissed her as though he had all the time in the world in which to taste her.
She leaned into him, her hands warring with his shirt. Buttons gave way. She relaxed, slid her fingertips over his skin and rolled onto her stomach to ensure she wouldn’t miss exploring a single toned ridge. Her injured foot connected with the edge of his ankle-bone. A pained whimper tore free.
Tait released her mouth. ‘Paige?’
‘I stubbed my foot on the metal under the chair when I fell,’ she said, fighting a fresh wave of agony.
Eyes on Bundy, Tait shifted in the chair so they sat in a more upright position. The throw slithered to the floor. He gathered her hands in his.
‘Let me see,’ he said.
‘It’s nothing a pack of frozen peas won’t fix.’
‘Crap. You’re as pale as a ghost.’
She pulled her hands out of his grasp and swung her legs over the side of the chair. She bit her lip to silence another whimper. ‘See, it’s fine.’
‘Rubbish. Your third toe on your right foot is beginning to swell. I’ll get you some ice.’ His hand curved around her butt.
‘And that means your hand gets to go where?’
His grin was just visible in the poor light. ‘What? I’m just helping you off so I can get
to the kitchen.’
She levered herself onto the wide armrest of the recliner but not before Tait’s hand had managed a firm squeeze.
Cheeks hot, she glanced at the stirring Bundy. ‘Focus, city boy. I thought you had a puppy you couldn’t wake.’ She carefully lowered her legs but stopped just short of the floor. ‘You stay with Bundy. I’ll get the peas. I have a feeling once I get to my room, I won’t be coming downstairs any time soon.’
‘Which is why,’ Tait suddenly stood, Bundy still cradled in the crook of his arm, ‘
I’ll
get the peas. Bundy can go outside for a widdle while I carry you upstairs.’
Tait dropped a kiss onto the top of her head.
‘I don’t need …’
But Tait had already walked to the library door. He turned and caught her sliding to the edge of the armrest.
‘Don’t even think about standing.’ He scowled. ‘If you aren’t exactly where I left you when I return I’ll tan that curvy little butt of yours.’
‘Promises, promises,’ she said as she continued to the edge of the chair.
‘Paige.’
Tait’s low voice was heavy with warning not amusement. She stopped. However it wasn’t his frown that kept her perched on the recliner after he’d disappeared but the growing suspicion that her foot wouldn’t bear her weight. She stuck out her leg and tried to move her swollen toes. She dug her nails into the leather armrest at the jolt of pain. Her foot couldn’t be broken. She had cattle to feed and jobs to do so she could take Friday afternoon off for the ball. She’d survived knocks and bumps before. There’d be no damage done. She lowered her leg until her heel touched the rug. She’d see if she could stand.
‘No you don’t,’ Tait said as he strode back into the room. ‘Do you ever listen to
anything anyone ever says?’ He sighed. ‘No, don’t answer.’
He handed her frozen peas wrapped in a tea-towel, a water bottle, painkillers from the kitchen’s first aid kit and the mobile Anne had lent her. Then without any preamble he scooped her into his arms. She remained stiff. She shouldn’t be impressed he’d picked her up as though she weighed little more than the bags of dog food he’d stockpiled in the shed. But by the time he reached the bottom of the staircase she’d given into the urge to rest her head on his broad shoulder. She closed her eyes as his arms tightened around her.
It wasn’t long before the warmth of Tait’s body was replaced by the softness of her bed. She opened her eyes to the sight of him staring at her with concern. Without words, he showed her two painkillers and the water bottle, before setting them beside the phone on her bedside table. He then placed a spare pillow beneath her foot and gently positioned the peas against her toe. She flinched.
He bent to press a kiss to each eyelid. ‘I’ll have Bundy upstairs in my room so text me if you need anything.’
‘Thanks but I’ll be fine,’ she whispered, keeping her eyes closed, knowing full well once the endorphins from Tait’s touch faded, she was going to be
far
from fine.
‘Bundy, you little bugger,’ Tait said the next morning as he walked past the potted garden and climbed the verandah steps. He’d only left his good dress boots inside the kitchen door for what had to be half an hour while he’d worn his work boots to take Gidget her breakfast. Somehow Bundy must have dragged a shoe through the screen door. Tait examined the destroyed left boot. The puppy’s sharp canines had shredded the elastic side and then worried the dark-tan leather to within an inch of its life. Right on cue, the pup raced around the corner of the house, skidded to a stop and tackled the bottom of Tait’s jeans. Tait planted his foot on
the floorboards as Bundy shook his head, pulled at the denim and growled.
‘And Paige thought
I’d
be trouble.’
Tait tucked the ruined boot under his arm and bent to free his jeans. He picked up the pup, who then mouthed his fingers with teeth that were far from baby-like. Tait extracted his fingers and held the squirming puppy in front of him.
‘You’re going to make a great work dog but right now you can terrorize the mop in the laundry.’
After checking Bundy had water and food, and adding his boot to the pup’s box of play things, Tait made his way to the kitchen. He tossed his Akubra onto the hatstand and walked into the large room that always made him feel so at home. He ignored the loss that lanced through him.
‘Morning,’ Connor said as he measured coffee into two mugs. ‘Everything okay?’ His worried glance looked past Tait for his daughter. ‘I saw the first aid kit on the bench.’
‘As usual Paige would disagree, but no, everything isn’t fine. She stubbed her foot last night on the recliner base and when I checked her earlier she was still asleep.’
‘She’s still asleep?’
From the laundry, Bundy howled. ‘Yes, just like Bundy should be. I didn’t want to wake her so Dusty and I fed Gidget ourselves.’
‘Thanks.’ The older man’s nod conveyed both gratitude and respect. He rolled his chair toward the phone, the coffees forgotten. ‘For Paige to sleep in, let alone sleep past dawn, something’s wrong. It’s too early to make an appointment with Dr Lee, but I’ll call Anne and I’m sure she’ll pop in when the surgery opens.’ He hesitated. ‘Would you mind taking Paige to town?’
Tait placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder as he passed to take over the coffee-making. ‘Car’s already parked at the front door.’ Tait tipped two teaspoonsful of sugar into Connor’s
mug. ‘I figured we’d need a fast getaway. Plus I’m sure some ear plugs wouldn’t go astray. I’ve no doubt Paige’s protests will last the whole hour and a half into town.’
Ten minutes later, carrying a breakfast tray complete with a cup of tea and plate of Vegemite toast, Tait knocked on Paige’s door. Nothing. He pushed open the door. Paige still lay sleeping, the black smudges beneath her eyes proof of how little rest she’d had. He placed her breakfast on the photo-covered dressing table. The corner of the tray clipped a silver frame and it toppled over before he could catch it.
Paige’s eyelids flickered and then snapped open. Just like when she’d woken in his car in Glenalla, her first thought was for her father. ‘Where’s Dad? What’s happened?’
She went to sit upright and then sank onto her pillow. Her hand covered her eyes. ‘Please tell me this is another bad dream and I don’t really have a foot that feels as though it’s been run over by a cattle truck.’
Tait folded his arms against the urge to hold her. Her rigidity and the way she refused to look at him told him now was not the time to offer her comfort.
‘No, this bad dream is very real and it’s about to get worse. I’m taking you to see the doctor. Connor’s orders.’
Her hand uncovered her eyes. ‘No.’ She tried again to sit and he caught her elbow to help her. She swiped her hair off her face as she managed to stay upright. ‘I’m not going.’
‘Oh yes you bloody well are.’ He sat the plate of toast on her lap. ‘Now eat up.’
Mutiny tensed her mouth.
He moved to her cedar wardrobe and opened it. ‘Do scowling princesses own any other shoes besides boots?’
She didn’t answer and he swung around. She lay down, her face chalk-white and the plate of toast in danger of sliding from her lap. He rescued it.
‘When did you last have any pain relief?’ he asked quietly. He caught a brief shrug of
her shoulders. He tipped out two tablets and again eased her into a sitting position. She swallowed the tablets without argument.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not a very good patient.’
‘That makes two of us.’
‘How bad does my foot look? I’m not game to take the sheet off.’
He moved to the end of her bed and lifted the thin cotton sheet. He fought to stop his automatic flinch. The angry, purple bruise that consumed her third toe also partially covered her second toe. Her foot must be broken.
‘Let’s just say, when you do something, you do it well.’
‘That bad.’
‘Yes, that bad.’
‘Okay. I’ll come to town with you.
Again
.’
He returned to the open wardrobe. ‘Don’t sound so happy, I’ll start to get a big-headed. Now about those shoes, there’s no way you’ll be putting a boot on for a while.’
‘Try down the bottom, at the back. I think there’s a pair of thongs I used to wear in the showers at boarding school.’
Tait went fossicking and pulled out a pair of purple thongs. He straightened and examined the handful of shirts and trousers that hung in the otherwise empty wardrobe. ‘You really are one-of-a-kind. I assumed all females had walk-in robes and cupboards that were rather like your father’s Bermuda Triangle shed.’
‘As I’ve said before, you need to get out more.’
‘Maybe I do,’ he said as he clicked the wardrobe shut. ‘Or maybe I need to hang around country girls more.’
Paige’s only answer was a moan as she manoeuvred her legs over the edge of the bed. ‘You were right. It looks bad. Real bad.’
He came to her side and placed the thongs on the rug next to her bed.
She offered him her hand. ‘I think I can walk, if you could please pull me up.’
He did as she asked, and once she was standing he placed an arm around her waist to steady her. She took a tentative step. Her face whitened further and she pressed her lips together as she took another step, using her heel to balance.
‘I’m good,’ she said in a thin, strained voice. ‘Maybe you could take the tray down to Dad and clear my room of the smell of Vegemite. I’ll clean my teeth and be ready in about five minutes.’