North Star (21 page)

‘I'm such an idiot!' Her voice wobbled and she felt sick with humiliation.

‘It was a great idea.'

She groaned.

‘No, it really was. I'm flattered.'

‘Well, you weren't supposed to be flattered! You were supposed to be
alone
!' She sniffed angrily.

‘It's race weekend. The relief guys have been staying here between shifts. I guess I should have mentioned that.'

‘That would have been nice!' When he chuckled again, she elbowed him in the ribs. ‘There's nothing funny about this.' Her shame spilled over into tears and she swiped at them with her fingers, careful to keep a firm hold of the sheet with the other hand. ‘Go away so I can get dressed,' she muttered, unable to look at him.

‘Kate, it's okay. Honest,' he reassured her, leaning back to catch her eye.

‘Just go, please?'

Letting out a long sigh, he slowly got to his feet and walked out of the room without further comment.

Throwing back the covers, she dived for her clothes, pulling them on in record time. She went to the window and slid it open quietly. There was no way she was going to face either of them again today—that would be too humiliating to even contemplate.

Running for her car, she slid into the front seat. She was leaning forward to insert the key in the ignition when a knock at her window made her scream in fright.

John stood there looking down at her expectantly, waiting for her to wind down her window. ‘Where are you going?'

‘Home.'

‘Kate, you're overreacting. Tomorrow you'll look back on this and laugh.'

When she sent him a look cold enough to induce frostbite, he realised his mistake.

‘Okay, maybe not tomorrow. But in time . . . Look, it was a small hiccup. Terry and I thought it was hilarious.' His grin slipped from his face as she flashed him a murderous glare. ‘Well, not
that
hilarious . . . Come on, Kate, come back inside so we can talk about it.'

‘Talk about it! I never want to even
think
about it again.' Starting the car, she blinked back tears of self-pity and frustration and spun her tyres in the gravel as she left.

Arriving home, she dived beneath a hot shower in an attempt to wash away some of her bruised pride, before finding her most comfy and unattractive pyjamas, just to remind herself how stupid it was to entertain thoughts of seduction and romance any time in the next fifty-odd years.

With a box of tissues in hand, Kate settled on the lounge to read the rest of her gran's diary. At least this way she'd have an excuse to sob her heart out, which was exactly how she felt after this afternoon's fiasco.

The knock on her front door made her jump. Visitors were few and far between, and she still hadn't got used to the isolation of the place.

Cautiously she approached the front door, sneaking a peek out the window on her way. Her anxiety turned to outrage and she stormed to the door, reefing it open and staring at the visitor with her arms folded across her chest.

‘Before you rip the limbs from my body, just let me say something,' John jumped in quickly. ‘Kate, you blow me away.'

Kate blinked uncertainly. It hadn't been what she'd expected and the solemnity of his statement felt like a gentle touch to her bruised ego.

‘Can I come in?' he asked, his voice soft.

Wordlessly she pushed open the screen door and stepped back to allow him to enter.

He didn't walk past. Instead he turned, placing his hands either side of her head on the wall behind her and stared deeply into her eyes. ‘I'm sorry about the way I handled this afternoon. I promise you, you have nothing to feel embarrassed about. I think it was about the sexiest thing I've ever seen.'

Kate tried to drop her eyes, but he reached down with one hand and turned her face with gentle firmness. ‘You have no idea how glad I am that you came to me, Kate. I want you to know how much it means to me.' He lowered his face and she sank under the sweetness of his lips.

Suddenly there was nothing but warmth and delicious desire seeping through her veins. Impatiently she pulled at his clothes until he was almost naked. He lifted her off her feet and she wrapped her legs about his waist, holding his face between her hands, kissing him so deeply that she felt the connection all the way down to the junction of her thighs.

‘Which way?' he asked, breaking away from her lips just long enough to get directions to her room.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he lowered her gently to the bed. He stood and stared down at her with a look so intense that it made her catch her breath. ‘You are so beautiful,' he whispered, then stepped out of the remainder of his clothing.

Reaching out her arms, Kate smiled as he lowered himself down to cover her body with his own.

‘This is what you want, Kate?' he asked, stroking her hair back off her face.

‘No,' she said, and his hand went still. ‘I want you to stop talking and hurry up and make love to me.' She saw the relief flood his face. ‘That was for laughing at me today,' she growled and ran her hands up the length of his naked back, sliding one leg slowly along his muscular thigh, watching his eyes darken.

With each touch of his hand, taste of his skin and murmured word of tenderness, he sent her closer to the brink of no return.

Kate ran her fingers across John's chest. ‘I thought you had to work tonight?' she said, coming back to reality.

‘I do. I have to go back soon. Terry offered to cover for me for a few hours, so we could sort out . . . earlier.' Kate cringed, the humiliation still raw. ‘He felt bad for interrupting what would have been a fantastic surprise,' he added.

‘Well, that was . . . nice of him. Although it should be me apologising to him. What a disaster.'

‘How did you get in, anyway?' John asked, smoothing her hair. When she didn't immediately answer, he moved back a little in order to see her face.

Kate bit her lip. ‘Through a window.' He lifted his eyebrows in surprise and she hurried to defend her actions. ‘It was already open.'

His chuckle close to her ear was deep and sexy and made her body tingle in response. ‘I should arrest you for breaking and entering.'

‘I think the courts would take pity on me, after I told them there were extenuating circumstances.'

‘And what would they be?'

‘I was just trying to do my civic duty. Taking care of our valuable police resources.' She touched the bruise on his cheek gently.

‘You certainly took care of me tonight.' He grinned. ‘You have no regrets now?' he asked, and Kate found it touching that he seemed almost unsure of himself.

‘Only that you're not staying for the rest of the night,' she said.

A slow smile broke out across his face and he rolled her under him in one swift movement. ‘I'll be finished by ten. Maybe I'll come back out and check on you then.'

Kate wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. ‘See, you just don't get that kind of dedication to the job in the city. Gotta love you country cops.'

‘Just doing my job, ma'am. With Honour We Serve.'

‘I think I prefer the old motto myself. Firmness with Courtesy.'

‘And just how would you know a thing like that?'

‘I've been spending too much time on the internet researching my business venture, but I have to admit, you're living up to your motto splendidly, officer.' She let out a small squeal as he growled in her ear, before reluctantly leaving the bed to get dressed and head back into the fray.

True to his word, John returned after his shift, but he was called away just as they finished an early breakfast.

Taking her cup of coffee back to bed, Kate decided to finish her gran's diary. The pillows still smelled like John and she snuggled under the blankets to read the rest of the sad tale.

On 25 October, the worst floods recorded in local history raged through the district. While out in the back blocks of North Star bringing cattle up to higher ground, Harry Campbell had been swept away in the muddy water and drowned. Henry, the only witness to the event, had come back to report his brother's accident. His body had never been recovered. Even under the blankets Kate felt cold as she read this. How sad not to have that closure for Harry's family.

And still the question remained—when the man Grace loved had died, why had she gone on to marry his brother?

There was a big gap between the first entry after Harry's death and the next, a space of some two months. In the second entry Grace poured out her grief at losing her fiancé, at one point claiming that she didn't believe it had been an accident, that Henry and Harry had argued the day before the muster.

But how could Harry's drowning
not
have been an accident?

Had Henry wanted Grace for himself? Or was he somehow resentful that a woman had come between him and his twin brother?

Towards the end of the diary there were increasingly long gaps between entries, and the tone of Grace's writing changed noticeably. Where, before Harry's death, she had been happy and carefree, she now sounded tired and defeated.

The only glimpse of intense emotion was in one entry written after a surprise visit from Jake Campbell a few months after Harry's memorial. After a long meeting between Jake and her father, Grace was called to the drawing room to be told of an offer that would greatly benefit both the Campbells and the Windsors. Grace had ended the entry with:
I
will not
marry that murderer!

Kate frowned uncertainly. Why would Jake Campbell come and ask Grace to marry Henry? From all accounts, he was not a soft-hearted man; in fact, from the bits and pieces she'd heard over the years, he seemed a bit of a bastard. A trait that had obviously carried through to Henry.

Maybe he needed the Windsor land. It had been absorbed into North Star not long after Henry and Grace were married. She'd found the paperwork in among the box of things she'd donated to the historical group. Was obtaining the Windsors' property so important that Jake needed a son to marry Grace? It didn't really make sense. North Star was already the biggest property in the district.

The entries stopped after the visit from Jake Campbell, but in the back of the diary were three old newspaper clippings: notification of the engagement between Grace and Harry, Harry's death notice, and the wedding announcement of Henry Campbell and Grace Windsor.

Was Harry's death an accident or was it murder? There was no way anyone would ever know for sure now, but Kate couldn't stop thinking about the possibility, and for the rest of the day, regardless of the layers of clothes she put on, nothing could make her feel warm.

Kate was finishing one of the old bedrooms, rolling the soothing shade of lemon onto its walls, when she heard voices calling out from the front of the house.

Jenny and the kids came in to inspect her progress. After the kids had given it a cursory ‘cool', they quickly left, no doubt worried she'd rope them into grabbing a brush. Only Jenny stayed and Kate soon discovered why.

‘Spill it. I want details, and when I say details, I mean
everything
.' She pinned Kate with a stare that warned her she wouldn't be leaving until she was satisfied she was practically in the room with them.

Kate briefly touched on the fiasco at the station, which made Jenny break out into her hyena laugh. Normally this would have had Kate laughing right alongside her, but the humiliation still stung.

‘Okay, I'm sorry,' Jenny said, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath. ‘I know that must have been really horrible.'

‘Yes, and I'd believe you meant that if you weren't grinning like a Cheshire cat,' Kate said dryly.

‘All right, I'm serious now . . . please tell me it didn't end there.'

‘No, it didn't end there. Later he came out here and he apologised and made me feel like a complete idiot all over again, but we did sort it out.'

‘And?' Jenny prompted.

‘And . . . well, jeez, Jenny, use your imagination.'

Jenny grinned and gave a low throaty chuckle. ‘And so . . . how was he?'

‘Jenny Beaumont!' Kate admonished in exaggerated shock. ‘You are a happily married woman and should be ashamed of yourself.'

‘I'm also your best friend and have been married forever, so it's your duty to share details—I'm living vicariously through your excitement.'

‘It went well, and that's all I'm prepared to say at this time,' Kate said, ignoring her friend's pout. ‘I did find out something even more interesting though,' she said, bending to collect the paint tray and roller to take out the back and clean.