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‘Wake up, my dear. We’re coming in to land. Fasten your seat belt. There’s the Southern Alps. See out there ... that’s right ... aren’t they a glorious sight? Fantastic day. You’ve slept like a baby.’

Katriona felt as if she had been drugged. She managed to take in some of the beauty of the snow-capped mountains and the fields laid out below, and then they landed. Feeling distinctly crumpled, she followed Sylvia Furness across the tarmac to the lounge, and drifted off to sleep as soon as she was seated.

‘Wake up, Katriona. Meet Bunty and Judy. Your bus seat has been cancelled and you’re travelling with us. Let’s go. I’ve got your cases sorted out.’

Katriona smiled wanly at the two ladies she had been introduced to and followed them out to a car in the parking lot and was no sooner seated than she was fading off to sleep again.

She heard Sylvia say, ‘Poor child. Jet lag, I suppose. Pretty wee thing. Such a coincidence ...’

‘Comfort stop.’ Sylvia was shaking her roughly. ‘We’re at Culverdun. Out you hop. Toilets over there and we’ll be in the tea-rooms along there. See? Now don’t go back to sleep, a hot cup of tea is what you need. I’ve already woken you once. Really, you do take chances! We could have been a gang of white slavers. You haven’t a clue where you are, have you?’

Katriona shook her head and picked up her bag, and walked to the toilets. The afternoon sun had struck her like a blast from an oven, and she was glad to strip off her jacket and splash her face in the cold water.. She repaired her make-up and combed her tangled curls. Sylvia was right, she felt better, but she needed that cup of tea. Slinging her bag over her shoulder and dangling her jacket over her arm, she started along the street towards the tea-rooms.

A small pick-up truck swung into the curb beside her, and she gave it a casual inspection, then a more intent look as the name painted on the door almost leapt out at her: ‘Evangeline’. Enchanted, she stared at it. That truck came from her father’s station! Suddenly she felt she was being watched and looked inside the cab of the truck. She looked directly into the cool grey eyes of
Morgan Grant.

She turned as if to run ... but there was nowhere to go. She was in his territory now. Maybe he had not recognised her? After all, he wasn’t expecting her. Oh, yes, he knew who she was. He came striding round the front of the truck towards her. Tall and lean, lithe and brown, he appeared much bigger than she remembered him.

She swallowed nervously, her head lifted up defiantly. If only she could get her breath properly, she’d handle this situation without trouble.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Grant,’ she stammered a little breathlessly.

He stopped in front of her, his eyes lit with some secret amusement. ‘Good afternoon, Katriona Carmichael. You sure took your time coming. Allow me to welcome you formally to New Zealand.’ He shook hands with her briskly. ‘Now where’s your luggage? How are you travelling?’

‘In that powder blue station-wagon. I’m with three ladies who went into the tea-room for a cup of tea.’

‘Right. Get in the cab. It’s just lucky I came in to pick up a dog. I’ll go and get the car key from your friend and sling your luggage in the back. We’ll be home in half an hour.’

Things were getting out of control, Katriona decided. ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort! I’m going to Hanmer Springs. I’m going to stay there for a few days.’

‘Have you booked in?’ He whipped the question at her.

She shook her head.

‘Well, you haven’t a hope in hell of getting a bed there. I was there last week and they said everything is booked out with two big conferences.’

‘But...’ Katriona protested.

‘But ... nothing. Even if you could get six beds you wouldn’t be staying there. What are you trying to do? Humiliate your father? How long do you think it would take the district to learn that Ross Carmichael’s daughter was staying there? Hop in, I haven’t got time to mess about.’

Katriona obeyed him without speaking again. She slammed the truck door angrily as he headed towards the tea-rooms. She was surprised to find herself trembling. In a way it was a relief to have the decision to go to the station taken out of her hands. There was no way out now. Immediately following the relief came the swift anger and resentment at his high-handed action. He had taken her arrival so calmly, as if he had known to the day and the minute when she would arrive in this wee country town. He could have no idea of the struggle she had gone through trying to make up her mind whether to travel thousands of miles to see him again ... because that was in essence why she had come. Yes, of course it had been because she wanted to see her father, that had been terribly important to her, but it was also very important to her to get Morgan Grant in proper perspective. He was ruining her carefully planned life, he invaded her thoughts, and even her dreams. And she
resented
it.

She hoped he would not be able to find Sylvia, and would have to come crawling back and ask her help. Just then he came out of the doorway and down the steps with Sylvia positively oozing all over him. He winked as he went past as if he knew what she had been thinking. It did not improve her mood.

He threw the cases in the back, thanking Sylvia with charming old-world courtesy, then came round and slid in beside Katriona.

Sylvia leaned in through the open window. ‘Do you think he’s a white slaver? If he is, ask him to come back for me! ’ She laughed delightedly and waved them away.

They drove in silence for a
while. Katriona was furious. No man had the right to disturb her the way he had done— storming into her life and out of it again. She flicked a
sideways glance at him. He was only a
man. Nothing special about him. He was really very ordinary ... good-looking, but ordinary. A week or two in the same house and she would probably find him dreadfully boring.

His bare bronzed arm touched hers and she flinched as if she had received an electric shock. Maybe it would take three weeks to discover how boring he could be!

K
a
trion
a
stared out of the truck window at the passing landscape with unseeing eyes. She was aware only of the close proximity of Morgan Grant and the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of meeting her father.

What a fool she had been to let Morgan Grant precipitate her into this situation! All the joy and excitement had drained away leaving her exhausted and frightened. She just felt so tired. If only she had had a few days to recover from her trip she would have been better equipped both mentally and physically to meet her father.

Oh, why hadn’t she written to say she was arriving? It was stupid to be thrown on his doorstep without warning. It was all Morgan Grant’s fault. Oh, she wished she was wearing a dress. A dress was so much more feminine. A man would expect to see his daughter in a dress ... that is if he were meeting her for the first time. Well, wouldn’t he? She ran a finger down the crease of her well-cut and smoothly fitting denim pants then touched her expensive peach-coloured silk overshirt, outlining the exquisite embroidery, glad in her heart that it was delightfully feminine. Her matching denim jacket and cap lay on the seat beside her.

She picked up the cap in her hand and twirled it around nervously. She was glad she had the cap. She brushed a stray curl back into place and rammed it on the back of her head. She knew it gave her a jaunty carefree appearance, a false air of bravado. She flicked a glance across at Morgan and found him watching her with a cool calculating stare. He nodded a little grimly and returned his attention to his driving.

Resentfully Katriona waited for him to speak. It was almost as if he had summed up all her possibilities in one long slow measured look, then transferred his thoughts to some more interesting project. At last she could not bear the suspense. She wanted to know what his conclusions were.

‘Well? Did I pass?’ Her voice reflected her anger.

There was a long pause as if Morgan had forgotten her existence altogether and had to gather his thoughts together before replying. Infuriated, Katriona realised that he was doing it deliberately, playing the dominating male part to make her feel insignificant... and it must not work.

He did not look at her, but she saw a muscle in his tanned cheek twitch and the beginnings of a smile on his lips. ‘You’ll do.’

That was deliberate too. What a
nerve he had! ‘You do
work
for my father?’ Katriona asked, a
cutting edge in her voice as she attempted to show him his place.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ his laughter mocked her as if he guessed her purpose. ‘You mean, seeing I work for your father, I should know him well enough to be able to guess his reaction to your sudden arrival?’

It had not been what Katriona had meant, but she was anxious to know the answer. ‘Well?’

The muscle in his cheek twitched again. ‘That would be very presumptuous of me ... a
mere workman ... to guess at your father’s intentions.’

‘Very amusing,’ Katriona said with heavy sarcasm. Oh, yes, he had known she wa
s
trying to put him down and she deserved his remark, but it did not make her fond of him. She hated him, with his mock humility and his arrogant good looks.

‘Can you drive? I mean do you possess a driver’s licence?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ Katriona replied shortly.

‘We’ll have to remedy that. I’ll get one of the boys to teach you.’

‘Why should you?’ Katriona demanded.

‘I presume you want to make yourself useful while you’re here. Evangeline is fully mechanised, so you’ll be a dead loss if you can’t drive.’

‘If my f ... er ... Mr Carmichael will arrange for me to have lessons if he thinks it necessary,’ Katriona replied somewhat pointedly, her small chin lifting defiantly.

Morgan laughed. ‘Oh, Ross leaves most of the running of Evangeline to me these days. He can’t manage to do too much on the farm.’

Katriona was silent. So that was why he was so arrogant, and why he had so much authority. Her poor father was ill and old, and Morgan Grant had taken over and pushed him into the background. Her back stiffened and her lips tightened aggressively. He might be able to bully a tired frail old man, but he need not think he would get very far ordering her around! She was glad she had come. Why, he had even used the station cheque book as if it was his own. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She needed time to sort her ideas out. She needed time ...

‘Evangeline.’ Morgan’s voice seemed to come from a tremendous distance. Katriona fought to throw off the heaviness of sleep.

‘Thought you wouldn’t like to arrive in the yard asleep on my shoulder. Might create the wrong impression.’

The words stung her like an electric shock. She suddenly became aware of her position, and jerked herself upright. Down below her was a small lake, brilliantly blue, sparkling in the gold of the late March sunlight, fringed with green reeds and flax bushes ... incredibly beautiful.

It disappeared from view as they wound their way up a steep hill, then suddenly reappeared. A jet boat sped across the surface of its almost indigo waters.

‘We swim there throughout the summer. Can you water-ski?’ Morgan had slowed down for her to have a closer view of the lake. ‘Horseshoe Lake. Quite a little beauty, isn’t it?’

Katriona was enchanted by the fabulous jewel-like setting of the green-fringed lake.

‘That’s Evangeline over there.’

She gasped as she gazed across the wide gully to the plateau beyond. Surely her father’s station must be the most beautiful place in the whole world. How long had she slept? She remembered, as they left that country town, the flat, sun-scorched land. Now she was gazing at Evangeline, high up in the mountain pass. Nestled in the tawny hills, set out attractively in a green oasis of pine and poplar plantations, were the brown-stained farm building and the white homestead and cottages, all green-roofed and drenched in glorious sunlight.

She stared again at the lake, her eyes moving across the rough gully with gorse and broom up to the well set out homestead and buildings, beyond to the tawny tussock hills, and higher yet to the blue-purple-shadowed mountain peaks.

‘How do you like it?’ Morgan demanded. ‘Worth the trip?’

Only then did Katriona become aware that he had stopped the truck to give her this perfect unrestricted view, and also became aware of the searching perceptive grey eyes watching alertly for her reaction.

‘Who could fail to be impressed? Fantastic. Have you lived here all your life?’

‘Not all of it... most of it.’

‘Then I think you’ve been very fortunate.’

‘You could have been here too.’ He started the truck and moved off down the sweeping curve of the hill towards the station. As they turned the corner near the foot of the hill she saw a huge river, jade green in the shadow of the towering bluffs, and a river of molten silver where the sun struck it.

‘Oh, how very beautiful! Does it belong to the station?’

‘That’s the Hope River. It’s a boundary between us and the next station ... Hope Valley station.’

Around the next comer Morgan swung the truck off the main road and stopped by a mailbox, collected a parcel, then moved on up the road towards the homestead. He left a cloud of dust behind him as he gunned the truck across the flat stretch of gravel road, then swept up a sharp rise and round a small bluff and into a huge yard.

Katriona thought it looked a bit like a village square with cars and farm trucks and machinery about, gas pumps and so many buildings she would never learn what they were for. Several young men were standing by a car, stripped to the waist, their well muscled bodies, deeply tanned, turned gold in the setting sun. They were drinking beer from bottles with obvious enjoyment.

Morgan sketched them a casual salute. ‘That’s the shearers just finished a day’s crutching. They sure deserve their beer tonight.’