The Socialite and the Cattle King (10 page)

‘We can’t be too far away from somewhere!’ Holly enthused as she slipped her backpack off with a sigh of relief. Then she sat down, and took her boots off and wiggled her toes with another huge sigh, this time pure pleasure.

‘No,’ Brett agreed as he cast around, looking at the ground inside and outside the shelter. ‘But there’s no sign of—Ah, yes, there is.’ He squatted down and outlined something in the sand with his fingers. ‘A hoof print. Who ever uses this place comes by horse.’

‘A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!’ Holly carolled. ‘Or a camel. Or a donkey!’

Brett laughed.

‘So who do you think uses it?’ she enquired.

‘A boundary rider—a mustering team, maybe.’ He stood up. ‘Whoever, we could be closer to the homestead than I thought.’

‘That is music to my ears. Now, if only I wasn’t covered in a repulsive mixture of sweat, sand and sunscreen, I’d be happy.’

‘There’s an easy remedy for that.’ As he spoke Brett pulled off his shirt. ‘I’m going for a swim.’ He stripped off to his boxer shorts again and jogged down to the beach.

‘But…’ Holly temporized, thinking inevitably of crocodiles.

‘This is fresh water,’ he called back to her after he’d scooped a handful up and tasted it. ‘And this,’ he added as he waded in up to his waist, sending a variety of birds flying, ‘is an old Aboriginal remedy for crocs.’
He started to beat the water with his palms. ‘Frightens them off. Come in, Holly. I’m here anyway.’

She hesitated only a moment longer, then started shedding her clothes down to her underwear. Today she was wearing a denim-blue bra and matching briefs. She went into the water at a run in case her courage gave out to find it was divine, cool and refreshing, cleansing, incredibly therapeutic.

They played around in it for over half an hour then came out to the chilly air; it was close to sunset.

‘Use whatever you can to dry off properly,’ he recommended. ‘We can always dry clothes tomorrow in the sun.’ They’d only brought one change of clothes each.

‘What if it rains again?’

‘I doubt it will.’ He towelled himself vigorously with a T-shirt and looked around. ‘You know what they say—red sky at night, shepherd’s delight.’

‘Oh.’ She looked around; the feathery clouds in the sky, a bit like a huge ostrich-feather fan or a group of foxtails, turned to orange as she watched.

‘Anyway, I’m going to build a fire, so we can dry things beside it as well as keep warm. But get dressed and warm in the meantime.’ He hung his shirt on a nail in the shelter wall and pulled on jeans and his second T-shirt. He was just about to turn away when he kicked his toe on something sharp protruding from the sandy floor.

He knelt down and, using his long fingers, unearthed a metal box. It wasn’t locked, and what it contained made him say with absolute reverence, ‘Holy mackerel! Look at this.’

Holly was now dressed in a pair of long cotton
trousers and her long-sleeved blue blouse. She bent down and looked over his shoulder. ‘Oh my,’ she breathed. ‘Coffee! Tea! And a plate and a cup. I could kill for a cup of tea or coffee; don’t mind which. But what’s the other thing?’ She frowned.

‘This.’ He lifted the red plastic spool out of the box. ‘Is like gold. It’s a fishing reel, complete with lure.’ He showed her the curved silvery metal plate with a three-pronged hook on it. ‘And sinker. I wondered if there’d be fish in the lagoon; there usually are.’ He stood up. ‘I was thinking I could kill for a beef steak, but a grilled fish would do nicely. All right, I’m going to collect firewood, you’re going to fish.’

‘Uno problemo—I have never used one of those things.’

‘I’ll show you how. Just watch.’ He walked to the rocky ledge above the lagoon and unwound about a metre of the fishing line from the reel with the lure on the end. Holding the reel facing outward in one hand, he swung the lure on the line round several times then released it towards the water. The fishing line on the reel sang out as it followed suit, and she heard the lure plop into the water.

‘Now what?’ she asked keenly.

‘Hold the line—you can put the reel down—and when you feel a tug on the line give it a jerk and pull the line in. Try.’ He wound the line back onto the reel and handed it to her.

It took Holly several goes—the first time she hooked the lure into a tree—but finally she got it right and was
left in charge in the last of the daylight as Brett went to collect firewood.

Her ecstatic shout when she felt the first tug on the line and pulled in a fish set all the water birds squawking in protest. Getting it off the line was her next test. Brett had to show her how to wrap one of her socks around the fish so she could hold it with one hand and wiggle the hook out of its mouth with the other. By the time he’d collected a big pile of wood and was setting the fire, she’d caught six very edible fish.

Brett had a go but caught none.

The first thing they did when the fire was going was boil water in one of the tins and make a cup of coffee, which they shared. Then, using a grid he’d found under one of the rocks around the fire area, Brett grilled the fish, which he’d cleaned with his penknife.

They shared the plate and ate the fish with their fingers.

‘I don’t know why,’ Holly said, ‘But this is the best fish I’ve ever tasted.’

‘Could be a couple of reasons.’ He glanced at her in the light of the blazing fire, but she didn’t see the wicked little glint in his eye. ‘After two days of ham and sardines on biscuits, anything would taste good.’

Holly pouted. ‘That’s one, what’s the other?’

‘I’m a good, inventive cook.’

‘All you did was put them on a grid.’

‘That’s
not
all,’ he countered. ‘I had that part of the fire going to perfection so it wouldn’t burn them, dry them out or leave them raw.’

‘But I caught them!’

‘So that makes them very superior fish?’

‘Yes,’ she said with hauteur, then giggled. ‘You wouldn’t be a little miffed because you
didn’t
catch any?’

He looked offended. ‘No. What makes you say that?’

She shrugged, still smiling. ‘Just that I can’t help feeling very proud of the achievement.’ She paused and sobered. ‘If I wasn’t so worried about my mother, I’d really be enjoying all this.’

‘We may be able to end her suspense sooner than we thought—end everyone’s.’

‘I hope so,’ Holly said fervently. ‘And she is an eternal optimist.’

She was sitting with her knees drawn up and her arms around them. He was stretched on the sand with his head on his elbow. Because of the fire they were not rugged up to the nines, and Holly had arranged the V sheet in the shelter for them to lie on, with the one blanket they’d brought covering them.

Brett thought to himself, as he watched her in her light trousers and blue shirt, with her bare feet and the fire gilding her riotous hair, that she had never looked more desirable.

Was it because she’d coped so well? he wondered. Had that added to his attraction to her? But was he going to be able to overcome her wariness? She might tell him she couldn’t keep her hands off him, but he knew that deep down she was still wary, still burnt by her previous experience.

And he thought about
his
wariness—about the discovery he’d made about himself that he hated and
feared, and made him wonder if he was a fit mate for any woman.

It was, of course, the thing Holly had sensed in him, the thing she couldn’t put her finger on—the thing he had never wanted to admit to himself. But what was between them wasn’t the same thing that had happened to him before, was it?

This was a powerful attraction, yes, but it was also affection. Yes, it was sweet, but it was also sane and sensible because she would fit into his lifestyle so completely…

Then he realized she was returning his regard, her deep-blue eyes very serious, as were the young, lovely curves of her face.

A slight frown came to his face, because he had no idea what she was thinking. Was she thinking about her mother? He got the feeling she was not.

‘Holly?’

She looked around, as if unwilling for him to see what was in her eyes. She looked at the fire, at the darkened lagoon beyond, at the moon rising above them and the pale smoke of the fire wreathing against the dark blue of the sky. ‘I think I’m running out of steam,’ she said at last. ‘I feel terribly weary.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ he said after a moment, and stood up. ‘Come to bed. But have a cup of water first; I don’t want you to dehydrate.’

‘Are you coming to bed?’ she asked.

‘Shortly. I’m going to get more wood so we can keep the fire going as long as possible. Goodnight.’ He held his hand out to her.

She took it and got to her feet. ‘I—Thank you.’
‘What for?’

‘All you’ve done today, and tonight. The swim, the fish, the fire; that’s all been magic.’

He frowned. ‘You’re not afraid we won’t get out of this, are you?’

She shrugged. ‘No. What will be, will be.’

He stared down at her intently for a moment then kissed her lightly. ‘Sweet dreams, Holly Harding.’ He turned away.

Holly woke from a deep, dreamless sleep at two o’clock. There was just enough light from the glowing embers of the fire for her to see her watch, but her movement woke Brett. She was resting in his arms.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he mumbled.

It was nowhere near as cold as it had been the two previous nights, even though the fire had died down. The heat of it must be trapped within the shelter, she thought.

She went still as Brett pulled her closer into his arms and his mouth rested on her cheek. Her senses started to stir, started to clamour for his touch, for his kiss. But had he gone back to sleep?

Her lips parted and his mouth covered hers; no, he hadn’t. But he hesitated, and Holly suddenly knew she couldn’t bear it if he withdrew.

She put her hand on his cheek and arched her body against him, and found herself kissing his strong, tanned throat. He made a husky sound and then his hands moved on her body and she rejoiced inwardly, knowing they were claimed by the same need and desire.

Once again they fumbled with their clothes as best they could, but the rhythm of rapture made light work of it. She put her arms above her head and let his hands travel all the way down her, then gasped as they came back to her breasts.

She lay quietly, quivering in his arms, and allowed him to tantalize her almost unbearably as those fingers sought her most secret places. Then she wound her arms around him and kissed him as if her life depended on it.

He accepted the invitation to claim her completely in a way that brought them both intense and exquisite pleasure.

They were still moving to that pleasure as they slowly came back to earth, then they separated at last but stayed within each other’s arms.

‘We didn’t say a word,’ he murmured, and kissed her.

‘It didn’t seem necessary,’ she answered. ‘Did it?’

‘No, but—’ He broke off and lifted a hand to stroke her hair.

‘I wanted to say something earlier,’ she told him. ‘When we were sitting by the fire—I wanted to say I didn’t think I could do it.’

He raised his head and frowned down at her. ‘Holly…’

‘No.’ She touched her fingers to his lips. ‘Let me finish. I wanted to say I didn’t think I could lie on this V-sheet without wanting to be held, kissed and made love to.’

He sat up abruptly.

‘Not after everything,’ she went on. ‘Because you
were incredible—not only in all you did today, but in the way you kept me going.’

‘Holly…’

She broke in again. ‘I’m just happy to be with you tonight. It—it just seemed to be so fitting and right for the moment, and sometimes I think you need to
live
for the moment. But you don’t have to worry about the future.’

He sank back beside her and pulled her into his arms again. ‘I’m not worried about it. I’m looking forward to it. When will you marry me?’

H
OLLY
gasped, then evaded his arms and sat up urgently. ‘That’s exactly what I
don’t
want you to feel you have to do!’

He propped his head on his elbow and looked up at her with a glint in his eyes she couldn’t decipher. ‘You’ve had time to work that out?’ he queried.

She bit her lip. ‘Obviously, otherwise it wouldn’t have come to mind.’

He grimaced. ‘But why not?’ He lifted a hand and touched his fingers to her nipples.

Holly shivered but forced herself to concentrate. ‘How could you suddenly want to marry me? I’m sure you don’t ask every girl you sleep with to do that.’

He looked briefly amused. ‘No. But it’s not so sudden. It’s been on my mind since you came to Haywire. Look, you asked me how I juggled things earlier: the truth is I’m at a bit of a crossroads. I’m getting tired of all the juggling I have to do. I’m thinking of coming home on a fairly permanent basis. That’s what prompted the zoo idea—it’s a way I can carry on my work and be here at the same time.’

Holly turned her head. ‘Won’t that be an awful wrench for you?’

‘Sometimes,’ he said slowly and pulled her back against him. ‘And I’ll probably always take off now and then; I won’t be able to help myself. But it’s time to put down some roots. The thing is—’ He paused. ‘I’ve had trouble really coming to grips with the idea—not the zoo, but putting down roots. Because I’ve had no-one to do it with. But now there’s you.’

Holly tried to think. ‘I’m—I don’t know what to say. Please tell me, are you serious?’

‘Deadly serious.’

She stirred against him. ‘Brett, could I be—and I ask
this
seriously—a bit of a novelty for you?’

She felt him shrug. ‘A wonderful novelty,’ he agreed. ‘But we also have a lot in common. You fitted into Haywire almost as if you’d been born to it.’ He threaded his fingers through hers. ‘Could you see yourself living there? Us living there?’

It occurred to Holly that she could. It was a lifestyle that encompassed all the things she loved: far away, exciting, different and still a challenge at times. And with a huge challenge coming up, if he went ahead with his plans for the zoo.

What about her career, though?

She could always freelance, she thought.

She even found herself contemplating a serious journalistic career focusing on the cause that was so dear to his heart and was becoming more and more fascinating to her.

Of course, there was the other factor: she was conscious of his body against hers and the sheer delight, the strength and warmth, it could bring her. Not only
that, it was as if she’d found the centre of her universe in him.

She moved abruptly. ‘I…Brett, could this not be love but something more—convenient?’

‘It didn’t feel convenient a little while ago. Did it for you?’

She shivered again as she relived their passion. ‘No,’ she whispered, shaken to her core.

‘And there’s this,’ he went on very quietly. ‘How easy would it be for you to get up and walk away from me?’ He smiled ironically. ‘Assuming it was possible anyway and we weren’t marooned in an oasis in a bloody riverbed.’

She had to smile but it faded swiftly as she battled with how to answer him. ‘I…’ She stopped as tears suddenly beaded her lashes.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said very quietly. ‘It would be hell for me too.’

‘The last thing I would want to feel is that you’re sorry for me.’ She sniffed.

‘I’m not. But I do feel as if I want to look out for you.’

‘That could be the same thing,’ she objected.

‘No. It means I care about you.’

Holly sniffed again. ‘Do I have to make a decision right now?’

‘Why not? We’re never going to get as good an opportunity to think clearly.’

She frowned. ‘What—how do you mean?’

‘No outside influences at all.’

She swallowed in sudden fear. ‘What if we don’t get rescued or we don’t find the station?’

His lips twisted. ‘Perhaps the perfect solution. We could do a “me Tarzan, you Jane” routine. No, only joking. We will get rescued.’ He pushed aside the layer of cover and took her in his arms. ‘Believe me,’ he added, and kissed her gently.

Holly felt herself melting within, and when he lifted his head she laid her cheek on his shoulder.

‘Is that a yes?’ he queried.

She hesitated. ‘I don’t know yet. I just don’t know.’

He grimaced but said, ‘Never mind. I’ll ask you again every hour on the hour until our rescuers arrive or we arrive somewhere. Go back to sleep.’ He looked at his watch over her head. ‘We’ve got a couple of hours before dawn. Comfy?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, yes.’

Five minutes later she was fast asleep, although Brett stayed awake for a while and contemplated this turn of events. Surely she wasn’t planning to walk away from him now? he theorized.

It wasn’t dawn that woke them; they slept well past it, in fact.

It was the sound of a man clearing his throat and saying, ‘Excuse me, but were you two in a airplane crash?’