Her Knight in the Outback (7 page)

She shrugged. ‘I had a rapid apprenticeship after Mum died.'

She munched her way through half her plate before speaking again.

‘Can I ask you something personal?'

‘Didn't you already do that?'

‘About travelling.'

His head tilted. ‘Go ahead.'

‘Do you...' Lord, how to start this question? ‘You travel alone. Do you ever feel like you've forgotten how to be with somebody else? How to behave?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I just...I used to be so social. Busy schedule, urban lifestyle, dinners out most evenings. Meeting new people and chatting to them.' Up until the accident, anyway. ‘I feel like I've lost some of my social skills.'

‘Honestly?'

She nodded.

‘Yeah, you're missing a few of the niceties. But once you get past that, you're all right. We're conversing happily now, aren't we?'

Give or take a few tense undercurrents.

‘Maybe you just got good at small talk,' he went on. ‘And small talk doesn't take you far in places like this. Situations like this. It's no good at all in silence. It just screams. But we're doing okay, on the whole.'

She rushed to correct him. ‘I didn't mean you, specifically—'

‘Yeah, you did.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘Eve, this feels awkward because it
is
awkward. We don't know each other and yet I was forced into your world unnaturally. And now a virtual stranger is sitting ten feet from your bed, drinking your wine and getting personal. Of course it's uncomfortable.'

‘I'm not...it's not uncomfortable, exactly. I just feel really rusty. And you don't deserve that. You've been very nice.'

The word
nice
hit him visibly. He actually winced.

‘When was the last time you had someone in your bus?' he deviated.

Eve racked her brain... Months. Lots of months. ‘Long enough for that second wineglass to end up right at the back of some cupboard.'

‘There you go, then. You're out of shape, socially, that's all.'

She stared at him.

‘Let's make a pledge. I promise to be my clunky self when you're around if you'll do the same.' He drew a big circle around the two of them and some tiny part of her quite liked being in that circle with him. ‘This is a clunk-approved zone.'

‘Clunk-approved?'

‘Weird moments acknowledged, accepted and forgiven.'

Why was it so easy to smile, with him? ‘You're giving me permission to be socially clumsy?'

‘I'm saying I'll understand.'

It was so much easier to breathe all of a sudden. ‘All right. Sounds good.'

And on that warm and toasty kindred-spirit moment...

‘Are you done?' she checked.

He scooped the last of his steak into his mouth and nodded.

‘Hop up, I'd like to show you something.'

As soon as he stood up and back, she pinched the tall stool out from under him and clambered onto it. That allowed her to pop the latch on what looked to anyone else like a sunroof. It folded back onto the bus with a thump. She boosted herself up and into the void, wriggling back until her bottom was thoroughly seated and her legs dangled down into the bus.

‘Pass the wine up,' she asked.

He did, but not before adding a generous splash to both their vessels. Then he hoisted himself up opposite her—disgustingly effortlessly—and followed her gaze, left, up out into the endless, dark sky over the Southern Ocean.

‘Nice view.'

Essentially the same view as when they'd stood up on the Bedford's back step, just a little higher, but somehow it was made all the more spectacular by the location, the wine and the darkness.

And the company.

‘I like to do this when the weather's fine.' Though usually alone.

‘I can see why.'

The sky was blanketed with light from a gazillion other solar systems. The full you'll-never-see-it-in-the-city cliché. Eve tipped her head back, stared up and sighed.

‘Sometimes I feel like I might as well be looking for Trav out there.' She tossed her chin to the trillions of unseen worlds orbiting those million stars. ‘It feels just as unachievable.'

He brought his eyes back down from the heavens. Back to hers.

‘It was such a simple plan when I set off. Visit every town in Australia and put posters up. Check for myself. But all it's done is reinforce for me how vast this country is and how many ways there are for someone to disappear. Living or dead.'

‘It's a good plan, Eve. Don't doubt yourself.'

She shrugged.

‘Did you do it because you truly thought you'd find him? Or did you do it because you had to do something?'

Tears suddenly sprang up and she fought them. It took a moment to get the choke out of her words.

‘He's so young. Still a kid, even if the law says otherwise. I was going crazy at home. Waiting. Hoping each day would be the day that the police freed up enough time to look into Trav's case a bit. Made some progress. My heart leaping every time the phone rang in case it was news.'

Fighting endlessly with her father, who wanted her to give up. To accept the truth.

His truth.

‘So here you are,' he summarised, simply. ‘Doing something constructive. Does it feel better?'

‘Yeah. When it's not feeling totally futile.'

It was too dark for the colour of his eyes to penetrate, but his focus fairly blazed out from the shadows under his sockets. ‘It's only futile when it stops achieving anything. Right now it's keeping you sane.'

How did this total stranger know her better than anyone else—better than she knew herself?

Maybe because it took one to know one.

She saluted him with her wine. ‘Well, aren't we a pack of dysfunctional sad sacks.'

‘I'm not sad,' Marshall said, pretty proudly.

What was his story? Curiosity burnt, bright and blazing. The intense desire to
know
him.

‘Nothing to say about being dysfunctional?'

‘Nope. Totally guilty on that charge.'

The wind had changed direction the moment the sun set, and its heat no longer affected the vast pockets of air blanketing the southern hemisphere. They were tickled by its kiss but no longer buffeted, and it brought with it a deep and comfortable silence.

‘So,' Marshall started, ‘if I want to use the bus's bathroom during the night I'm basically in your bedroom, right? How's that going to work?'

She just about gave herself whiplash glancing up at him.

‘Uh...'

The bus's little
en suite bathroom
was on the other side of the door that separated it from the rest of the bus. And from Marshall.

Groan. Just another practicality she hadn't thought through thoroughly.

That's because you just about fell over yourself to travel with him for a bit.

‘Or I can use the campsite toilet,' he suggested.

Yes! Thank the Lord for public services.

‘It's not too bad, actually.' If you didn't mind rocks on your bare feet at three in the morning and spiders in the dark. ‘What time do we need to be up?'

As soon as the words tumbled over her lips she regretted them. Why was she ending the moment of connection so soon after it had begun?

‘The boat's coming at eight.'

And dawn was at six. That was two hours of daylight for the two of them to enjoy sharing the clunk-approved zone together. ‘Okay. I'll be ready.'

He passed her his mug, then swung himself down and in and took it and hers and placed them together on the bench below. Eve wiggled to the edge of the hatch and readied her arms to take her weight.

‘You all right?'

‘Yeah, I do it all the time.' Though she just half tumbled, half swung, usually. Gravity fed. Completely inelegant. ‘I don't normally have an audience for this bit.'

His deep voice rumbled, ‘Here, let me help...'

Suddenly two strong hands were around her waist, pressed sure and hot against her midriff, and she had no choice but to go with them through the roof and back inside the bus. Marshall eased her down in a far less dramatic manner than she was used to, but not without bunching her sweater up under her breasts and leaving her stomach totally exposed as she slid the length of his body. Fortunately, there were no bare hands on bare skin moments, but it was uncomfortable enough to feel the press of his cold jeans stud against her suddenly scorched tummy.

‘Thanks,' she breathed.

He released her and stood back, his lashes lowered. ‘No problem.'

Instantly, she wondered what the Japanese symbol for ‘awkward' was and whether she'd find that tattooed anywhere on his body.

And instantly she was thinking about hidden parts of his body.

She shook the thought free. ‘Well...I guess I'll see you in the morning. I'll try and be quiet if you're not up.'

‘I'll be up,' he pledged.

Because he was an early riser or because he wasn't about to let her see him all tousled and vulnerable?

Or because all the touching and sliding was going to keep him awake all night, too.

CHAPTER FIVE

I
T
HAD
BEEN
a long time since Marshall had woken to the sounds of someone tiptoeing around a kitchen. In this particular case, it was extra soft because the kitchen was only two metres from his makeshift bed.

He'd heard Eve wake up, start moving around beyond that door that separated them all night, but then he'd fallen back into a light morning doze to the entirely feminine soundtrack. You had to live with someone to enjoy those moments. And you had to love them to live with them. And trust them to love them.

Unfortunately, trust and he were uneasy companions.

He'd been in one relationship post-Christine—a nice girl with lots of dreams—and that hadn't ended well. Him, of course. Just another reminder why going solo was easier on everyone concerned. Family included.

Thoughts of his brother robbed him of any further shut-eye. He pulled himself upright and forked fingers through his bed hair.

‘Morning,' Eve murmured behind him. ‘I hope I didn't wake you?'

‘No. I was half awake, anyway. What time is it?'

‘Just after six.'

Wow. Went to show what fresh air, hours of swimming and a good drop of red could do for a man's insomnia. He sure couldn't attribute it to the comfort of his bed. Every muscle creaked as he sat up, including the ones in his voice box.

‘Not comfortable?'

‘Better than my swag on the hard outback dirt.' Even though it really wasn't. There was something strangely comfortable about bedding down on the earth. It was very...honest. ‘I'll be back in a tick.'

The morning sun was gentle but massively bright and he stumbled most of the way towards the campsite toilet. Even with her not in her room, the thought of wedging all of himself into that compact little en suite bathroom... It was just too personal.

And he didn't do personal.

‘I have eggs or I have sausages,' she announced when he walked back in a little later. ‘They won't keep much longer so I'm cooking them all up.'

‘Nah. I'll be all right.'

‘You have to eat something; we're going to be on the water all day.'

‘That's exactly why I don't want something.'

She stopped and stared. ‘Do you get seasick?'

‘Doesn't really fit with the he-man image you have of me, does it?' He slid back onto his stool from the night before and she passed him a coffee. ‘Not horribly. But bad enough.'

‘How about some toast and jam, then?'

She was determined to play host. ‘Yeah, that I could do.'

That wouldn't be too disgusting coming back up in front of an audience.

She added two pieces of frozen bread to the toaster and kept on with her fry-up. If nothing else, the seagulls would love the sausages.

‘Is that okay?' she said when she finally slid the buttered toast towards him.

‘Just trying to think when was the last time I had toast and jam.' Toast had been about all his mother stretched to when he was a kid. But there was seldom jam.

‘Not a breakfast person?'

‘In the city I'd grab something from a fast food place near work.'

‘I'm sure your blood vessels were grateful.'

Yeah... Not.

‘Mostly it was just coffee.' The liquid breakfast of champions.

‘What about out here?'

‘Depends. Some motels throw a cooked breakfast in with the room. That's not always a nice surprise.'

‘Well, this is a full service b & b, so eat up.'

Eating with a woman at six o'clock in the morning should have felt wrong but it didn't. In fact, clunk-approved zone moments aside, he felt pretty relaxed around Eve most of the time. Maybe because she was uptight enough for the both of them.

‘Marshall?'

‘Sorry. What did you say?'

‘I wondered how the boat would know where to come and get us?'

‘They'll just putter along the coast until they see us waving.'

‘You're kidding.'

‘Well, me waving, really. They're not expecting two.'

‘That's very casual,' she said. ‘What if they don't come?'

‘Then I'll call them and they'll come tomorrow.'

Dark eyebrows shot up. ‘You're assuming I'd be happy to stay an extra night.'

‘If not, we could just head back to Esperance and pick up the boat there,' he admitted. ‘That's where it's moored.'

Her jaw gaped. ‘Are you serious? Then why are we here?'

‘Come on, Eve. Tell me you didn't enjoy the past twenty-four hours. Taking a break. Enjoying the scenery.'

Her pretty eyes narrowed. ‘I feel like I've been conned.'

‘You have—' he grinned around the crunch of toast smeared with strawberry jam ‘—by the best.'

She didn't want to laugh—her face struggled with it—but there was no mistaking the twisted smile she tried to hide by turning and plating up her eggs. Twisted and kind of gorgeous. But all she said was...

‘So, talk to me about the island.'

* * *

The boat came. The
Vista II
'
s
two-man crew easily spotted the two of them standing on the rocks at the most obvious point of the whole beach. One of them manoeuvred a small inflatable dinghy down onto the stillest part of the early-morning beach to collect them.

The captain reached down for Eve's hands and pulled her up onto the fishing vessel and Marshall gave her a boost from below. Quite a personal boost—both of his hands starting on her waist but sliding onto her bum to do the actual shoving. Then he scrambled up without assistance and so did the old guy who had collected them in the dinghy that he hastily retethered to the boat.

‘Thanks for that,' she murmured sideways to Marshall before smiling broadly at the captain and thanking him for real.

‘Would you have preferred fish-scaly sea-dog hands on your butt?' Marshall murmured back.

Yeah. Maybe. Because she wouldn't have had to endure his heat still soaking into her. She already had enough of a fascination with his hands...

The next ten minutes were all business. Life vests secured, safety lecture given, seating allocated. Hers was an old square cray pot. Marshall perched on a box of safety gear.

‘How long is the trip to Middle Island?' she asked the captain as soon as they were underway.

‘Twenty minutes. We have to go around the long way to avoid the wrecks.'

‘There are shipwrecks out here?' But as she turned and looked back along the one-hundred-strong shadowy islands of the Recherche Archipelago stretching out to the west, the question suddenly felt really foolish.

Of course there were. It was like a visible minefield of islands.

‘Two right off Middle Island.'

As long as they didn't add the
Vista II
to that list, she'd be happy. ‘So almost no one comes out here?'

‘Not onto the islands, but there's plenty of fishing and small boating traffic.'

‘And no one's living on Middle Island?'

Marshall's eyes glanced her way.

‘Not since the eighteen-thirties, when Black Jack Anderson based himself and his pirating outfit there,' the captain volunteered.

Huh. So it
could
be lived on. Technically.

Eve turned her gaze towards the distant shadow that was becoming more and more defined as the boat ate up the miles and the captain chatted on about the island's resident pirate. Maybe Marshall's theory wasn't so far-fetched. Maybe Trav could be there. Or have been there in the past. Or—

And as she had the thought, she realised.

Travis.

She'd been awake two whole hours and not given her brother the slightest thought. Normally he was on her mind when her eyes fluttered open each day and the last thing she thought about at night. It kept her focused and on mission. It kept him alive in her heart.

But last night all she'd been able to think about was the man settling in just metres and a bit of flimsy timber away from her. How complicated he was. How easy he was to be around. How good he smelled.

She'd been pulled off mission by the first handsome, broad-shouldered distraction to come along. Nice. As if she wasn't already excelling at the Bad Sister of the Year award.

Well... No more.

Time to get back in the game.

‘Eve?' Marshall's voice drifted to her over the sound of the outboard. ‘Are you okay?'

She kept her eyes carefully averted, as though she was focusing on the approaching island, and lied.

‘Just thinking about what it would be like to live there...'

They travelled in silence, but Eve could just about feel the moments when Marshall would let his eyes rest on her briefly. Assessing. Wondering. The captain chatted on with his semitour talk. About the islands. About the wildlife. About the wallabies and frogs and some special lizard that all lived in harmony on the predator-free island. About the southern rock lobster and abalone that he and his mate fished out of these perilous waters. About how many sharks there were lurking in the depths around them.

The promise of sharks made her pay extra attention as she slid back down the side of the
Vista II
into the inflatable and, before long, her feet were back on dry land. Dry, deserted land.

One glance around them at the remote, untouched, uninhabitable terrain told her Trav wasn't hiding out here.

As if there'd really been a chance.

‘Watch where you step. The barking gecko is protected on this island.'

‘Of course it is,' she muttered.

Marshall just glanced at her sideways. The fishermen left and promised to return for them in a couple of hours. A nervous anxiety filled her belly. If they didn't return, what would she do? How would she survive here with just a day's supply of water and snacks and no shelter? Just because Black Jack Whatsit got by for a decade didn't mean she'd last more than a day.

‘So,' Marshall said after helping to push the inflatable back offshore, ‘you want to explore on your own or come with me?'

Explore on my own—
that was the right answer. But, at the same time, she didn't know anything about this strange little island and she was just as likely to break her ankle on the farthest corner from Marshall and his little first-aid kit.

‘Is it safe?' she asked, screening her eyes with her hands and scanning the horizon.

‘If you don't count the death adders, yeah.'

She snapped her focus straight back to him. ‘Are you kidding?'

‘Nope. But if you're watching out for the geckos you'll almost certainly see the snakes before you tread on them.'

Almost certainly.

‘I'm coming with you.'

‘Good choice. Feel like a climb?' She turned and followed his gaze up to the highest point on the island. ‘Flinders Peak is where the weather station would go.'

He assured her it was only one hundred and eighty-five metres above sea level but it felt like Everest when you were also watching every footfall for certain death—yours or a protected gecko's.

Marshall pointed out the highlights to the west, chatted about the nearest islands and their original names. Then he halted his climb and just looked at her.

‘What?' she asked, puffing.

‘I'm waiting for you to turn around.'

They'd ascended the easiest face of the peak but it had obscured most of the rest of the island from their view. She turned around now.

‘Oh, my gosh!'

Pink
. A crazy, wrong, enormous bubblegum-pink lake lay out on the eastern corner of the island. Somehow everyone had failed to mention a bright pink lake! ‘What is it?'

‘Lake Hillier.'

‘It's so beautiful.' But so unnatural. It just went to show how little she knew about the natural world. ‘Why is it pink?'

‘Bacteria? The type of salt? Maybe something new to science. Does it matter?'

‘I guess not.' It was just curiously beautiful. ‘Can we go there?'

‘We just got up here.'

‘I know, but now I want to go there.'

So much! A bit like riding on his bike, little moments of pleasure managed to cut through her miserable thoughts about Travis.

He smiled, but it was twisted with curiosity. And something else.

‘What?' she queried.

‘This is the first time I've seen you get really passionate about anything since I met you.'

‘Some things are just worth getting your pulse up about.' And, speaking of which...

He stepped a little closer and her heartbeat responded immediately.

‘Lakes and lizards do it for you?'

‘
Pink
lakes and geckos that
bark
,' she stressed for the slow of comprehension. Right on cue, a crack of vocalisation issued from a tuft of scrubby foliage to their left. She laughed in delight. But then she caught his expression.

‘Seriously, Marshall...
What?
' His focus had grown way too intense. And way too pointed. She struggled against the desire to match it.

‘Passion suits you. You should go hiking more often.'

Her chest had grown so tight with the climb, his words worsened her breathlessness. She pushed off again for the final peak. And for the pure distraction of physical distress.

‘I get how the birds get here,' she puffed, changing the subject, ‘and the crustaceans. But how did the mammals arrive here? And the lizards?'

For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to let it go but he did, gracefully.

‘They didn't arrive, they endured. Back from when the whole archipelago were peaks connected to the mainland. There used to be a lot more until explorers came along and virtually wiped them out.'

Eve looked up at a circling sea eagle. ‘You can't tell me that the geckos didn't get picked off by hungry birds, before.'

‘Yeah, but in balance. They live in
refugia
here, isolation from the world and its threats. Until the first cat overboard, anyway.'

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