Required: Three Outback Brides: Cattle Rancher, Convenient Wife / In the Heart of the Outback... / Single Dad, Outback Wife

CHAPTER TWO

RORY found it all too easy to settle into the spacious, high-ceilinged guest bedroom that had been allotted him. His room at the pub, albeit clean and comfortable was tiny for a guy his size.

‘Stay the night, Rory,’ Clay had insisted. ‘We’ll be having a few drinks over dinner. Anyway it’s too far to drive back into town. Everyone else is staying over until morning. There’s any amount of room. Twelve bedrooms in, although we haven’t got around to furnishing the lot as yet.’

His bedroom had a beautiful dark hardwood floor, partially covered by a stylish modern rug in cream and brown. Teak furnishings with clean Asian lines gave the room its ‘masculine’ feel. The colour scheme was elegant and subdued, the bedspread, the drapery fabric and the cushions on the long sofa of a golden beige Thai silk. It was all very classy. Clay had even lent him a shirt to wear to dinner. Something ‘dressier’ since he’d only been wearing a short-sleeved bush shirt. They were much of a height and build. In fact the shirt fitted perfectly.

Drinks were being served in the refurbished drawing room at seven. It was almost that now. He’d showered and washed his hair using the shampoo in the well-stocked cabinet. Now he gave himself a quick glance in the mirror aware as always of his resemblance to his mother. He had her thick sable hair, her olive skin, though life in the open air had tanned his to bronze. It was her eyes looking back at him; the setting, the colour. They flashed silver against his darkened skin. He had her clean bone structure, the high cheekbones, the jawline, stronger and more definite in him. Hell his face was angular now he came to take a good look. He’d lost a bit of weight stressing over the current situation and being forever on the road. Who would have ever thought it bad luck to closely resemble his beautiful mother? Although their old man had scarcely liked Jay more, when Jay was almost a double for their father at the same age. Jay could never be brutal. Jay was a lovely human being who really wasn’t born to raise cattle. Both straight A students at their ‘old money’ boarding school Jay had once spoken of a desire to study medicine. It had only brought forth ridicule and high scorn from their father while their mother had gone to Jay laying her smooth cheek against his.

‘And you’d be a fine doctor, Jay. Your grandfather Eugene was a highly respected orthopaedic surgeon.’

‘Stop it, Laura!’ their father had thundered, his handsome face as hard as granite. ‘Mollycoddling the boy as usual. Putting ideas into his head. There’s no place for nonsense here. Jay is my heir! His life is here on Turrawin. Let that be an end to it.’

His expression darkened with remembrance. He missed his brother. Their father would blame Jay for every last little thing that went wrong now. It was dreadful to wish your own father would just ride off into the sunset and never come back, but both of his sons were guilty of wanting that in their minds.

‘You are a sick bastard, aren’t you?’ he berated himself, making a huge effort to throw off his mood. He’d already met most of his dinner companions, which was good. No surprises there. They were all nice, friendly people around his age, maybe a year or two older. Two married couples, the Stapletons and the Mastermans and a young woman, called Chloe Sanders with softly curling brown hair and big sky-blue eyes whose face became highly flushed when he spoke to her. Perhaps she was overcome with shyness, though she had to be well into her twenties and maybe past the time for hectic blushes.

It appeared there was a sister, Allegra, who was staying over as well, but so far she hadn’t appeared. Caroline had told him in a quiet aside Allegra, recently divorced, was understandably feeling a bit low. She was staying a while with her mother and sister on the family property, Naroom, which just could be up for sale. A hint there surely? The girls’ father, Llew Sanders had contracted a very bad strain of malaria while on a visit to New Guinea. Complications had set in but by the time he was properly hospitalised it was already too late. That was six months back, around the time Allegra’s divorce had been finalised. All three women had been shattered, Caroline told him, her lovely face compassionate. The daughter who had stayed at home with her parents was Chloe. The one with the fancy name, Allegra, had flown the coup to marry a high flying Sydney stockbroker then had turned around and divorced him within a few years. Rory didn’t get it. She was too young for a midlife crisis. Why did she marry at all if she hadn’t been prepared to make a go of it? Then again to be fair it might have been the husband’s fault? If the sisters looked anything alike, and they probably did, the high flyer husband could well have found someone more glamorous and exciting?

Heaven help me, I might like a bit of glamour and excitement myself!

Rory didn’t want to know it, but he was a man at war with himself.

They were all assembled in the drawing room, chatting easily together, drinks in hand.

‘Ah, there you are, Rory. What’s it to be?’ Clay asked. ‘I’ve made a pitcher of ice-cold martinis if you’re interested?’

‘They’re very good!’ Meryl Stapleton held up her glass. ‘Clay told me his secret. Just show the vermouth bottle to the gin.’

Rory laughed. ‘I’m not a great one for cocktails, I’m afraid.’

‘A beer then?’ Clay produced a top brand.

‘Fine.’ Rory smiled and went to sit beside Chloe who was sending out silent but unmistakable signals. A man could learn a lot from a woman who wanted him to sit beside her. She flushed up prettily and shifted her rounded bottom to make a place for him. Still no sign of the sister. Perhaps she was all damped down with depression? Maybe their hostess would have to go to her and offer a little encouragement?

Greg Stapleton, a slightly avid expression on his face, immediately started into asking him if he was any relation to the Channel Country Comptons. ‘You know the cattle dynasty?’

Obviously Clay hadn’t filled him in. Rory was grateful for that. He really didn’t want to talk about his family. Nevertheless he found himself nodding casually. ‘The very same, Greg.’

‘Say that’s great!’ Greg Stapleton gazed back at him with heightened interest. ‘But what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You’d be way out of your territory?’

Rory answered pleasantly though he wanted to call, ‘That’s it!’

‘Actually, Greg, I’m looking to start up on my own.’

Stapleton look amazed. ‘Glory be! When Turrawin is one of our major cattle stations? The biggest and the best in the nation. Surely you’d have more than enough to do there?’

‘I have an elder brother, Greg,’ Rory said, making it sound like it was no big deal instead of a boot out the door situation. ‘Jay’s my father’s heir. Not me. I’ve always wanted to do my own thing.’

‘And I’m sure you’ll be marvellous at it,’ Chloe spoke up protectively and gently touched his arm. Chloe it appeared was a very sympathetic young woman. Nothing wrong with that!

‘I’m totally against this primogeniture thing!’ Greg announced. ‘It’s all wrong and it’s hopelessly archaic.’

‘Ah, here’s Allegra!’ Caroline rose gracefully to her feet, grateful for the intervention her guest’s arrival presented. Clay had told her in advance a little of Rory Compton’s story so she knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it. But there was no stopping Greg once he got started. She welcomed the newcomer to their midst. ‘Just in time for a drink before dinner, Allegra!’

‘That would be lovely!’ A faintly husky, marvellously sexy, voice responded.

My God, what a turn up!

Rory just managed to hold himself back from outright staring. He was absolutely certain this femme fatale had left not just a husband but a string of broken hearts in her wake. He had enough presence of mind to rise to his feet along with the other men as Chloe’s sister walked into the room to join them. No, not walked. It was more like a red carpet glide. How exactly did unexceptional Chloe feel about having this beautiful exotic creature for a sister? All Rory’s sympathies were with Chloe. The sisters couldn’t have looked less alike. He hoped Chloe wasn’t jealous. Jealousy was a hell of a thing to haul around.

In a split second his dazzlement turned to an intense wariness and even a lick of sexual antagonism that appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t admirable and it stunned him. He wasn’t usually this judgemental.

She was a redhead. Not Titian. A much deeper shade. More the lustrous red one saw in the heart of a garnet, a stone he recalled had been sacred to ancient civilisations such as the Aztecs and the Mayans. She wore her hair long and flowing. He liked that. Most men would. It curved away from her face and fell over her shoulders like a shining cape. It even lifted most glamorously in the evening breeze that wafted through the French doors. Her eyes were a jewelled topaz-blue, set in a thick fringe of dark lashes. Her skin wasn’t the pale porcelain usually seen in redheads. It had an alluring tint of gold. Very very smooth. Probably she dyed her hair. That would explain the skin tones. Her hair was an extraordinary colour.

She was much taller than Chloe with a body as slender and pliant as a lily. Her yellow silk dress was perfectly simple, yet to him it oozed style. He might have been staring at some beautiful young woman who modelled high couture clothes for a living or something equally frivolous like spinning the wheel on a quiz show.

‘You know everyone except Rory,’ Caroline was saying, happy to make the introduction. ‘Allegra this is Rory Compton who hails from the Channel Country. Rory, this is Chloe’s sister, Allegra Hamilton.’

She was walking towards him, graciously extending a long delicate hand. What was he supposed to do, fall to one knee? Kiss the air above her fingers? Powerful attraction often went along with a rush of contrary emotions, or so he had read. ‘How do you do,’ she said in that husky voice, as though equally struck by something in him she didn’t quite understand, or for that matter like.

It might have been a gale force wind instead of a breeze blowing through the open doors. Rory swallowed hard on the roaring in his ears. What the hell! One could shake hands with a vision. Get it over. Life went on. He knew he hadn’t imagined the shiver of electricity. It was a wonder they hadn’t struck sparks off one another. It happened. But there was bound to be a scientific explanation. He felt more comfortable with that, though he hadn’t the slightest doubt she could cause such a response at will.

Well ma’am, I survived it!

She didn’t smile at him, coolly summing him up. He didn’t smile at her. Instead they studied one another with an absolute thoroughness that seemed to lock out everyone else in the room.

She looked away first.

He didn’t know how to interpret that. A win or a loss?

Over dinner, it turned out stunning Allegra was also smart. Pretty soon he’d be lost in admiration. Lighthearted conversation set the tone for most of the meal. They talked about anything and everything. A recent art auction, remarkable for the high prices paid for aboriginal art, music, classical and pop, favourite films, books, celebrities in the news, steering clear of anything confrontational. He liked the way she entered spiritedly into the discussions, revealing not only a broad general knowledge, but a wicked sense of humour. Now why should that surprise him? Rory had to chide himself for being so damned chauvinistic in the face of the twenty-first century. Why shouldn’t there be a good brain behind that beautiful exterior? His mother had been a clever woman, well educated, well read. Not much of a mother, however, as it turned out. Not all glorious looking women kept themselves busy luring rich guys into marriage he reminded himself.

What really struck him, was the way sweet little Chloe kept heckling her sister just about every time she opened her mouth. Heckling was the only way he could interpret it. It was all done with a cutesy smile, which he thought rather odd, but towards the end he found himself fed up with it. Sisterly ease and friendliness appeared to be a thin veneer.

On the other hand—further surprising him—there appeared to be no limit to Allegra’s tolerance. She had such a high mettled look to her and surely a redhead’s temper he had expected a free-for-all. If again that gorgeous mane was natural? But never once did she retaliate to her sister’s running interference when Rory had thought of a few sharp answers himself. There was no way Chloe could be totally free of jealousy, he reasoned. Poor Chloe. This was one of the ways she handled it.

‘And what’s your feeling, Rory? ‘Allegra startled him by addressing him directly. She looked across the gleaming table, her beauty quite electrifying amid the candlelight and flowers.

‘I’m sorry, I missed that.’ I was too damned busy wondering about you!

She smiled as though aware of it. ‘We were talking about the mystery resignation.’ She named a well-known politician who had stunned everyone including the prime minister by vacating his federal seat literally overnight.

‘He’s had a breakdown, I’d say,’ Rory offered quietly, after a moment of reflection.

‘Doesn’t look like that to me.’ Greg Stapleton’s mouth curled into a sardonic grin. ‘Could be woman trouble. The man looks great, fit and well. I saw him only recently on a talk show. He’s a good-looking bloke, happily married supposedly. One of the top performers in government.’

‘A high achiever,’ Rory agreed. ‘And he is happily married, with three children. He is a man who drives himself hard. When depression hits it hits hard. It can hit anyone. I’ve met the man and really admired him.’

‘So you think all the stress that goes along with the job—the lengthy periods away from home—got to him?’ Allegra asked, studying Rory very carefully and obviously waiting on his answer.

‘That’s my opinion,’ he said. ‘But I’m prepared to bet he is the man to confront it and win out.’

She gave a gratifying nod of approval. ‘I’m sure we all wish him well.’

Chloe at this point, not to be outdone, attempted to start a rousing political discussion, which was met not so much with disinterest but a disinclination to spoil the mood. Subdued she turned her attention back to cutting down her sister at the same time keeping her own brain underwraps. Appearances could be very deceptive Rory was fast learning. He’d initially thought sweet Chloe would make some man a good wife. Perhaps she would. Just so long as her sister wasn’t around.

Irritations aside, dinner went off very well. A roulade of salmon with a crab cream sauce; smoked duck breast as a change from beef, a lime and ginger brulée. Someone took an excellent approach to cooking. He hadn’t been eating well on the road. Clay and his beautiful wife were the best of hosts; the formal dining room recently redecorated and refurbished was splendid and the food and wine matched up.

It was well after midnight before they broke up. Rory was one of the last to make his way upstairs to his guest room because he and Clay had a private conversation first.

‘If you want I could have a word with Allegra in the morning,’ Clay suggested, drawing Rory into the book filled library. ‘There’s a possibility the Sanders property—it’s called Naroom by the way—could come on the market.’

‘You think they’re serious?’ Rory asked, staggered by all the leatherbound tomes. Did anyone read them?

‘We won’t exactly know until I broach the subject.’

‘Why Allegra, why not both sisters?’ Rory asked, fairly cautiously.

Clay’s response was dry. ‘Not to be unkind, you’ve met both sisters. Allegra is definitely the brains of the outfit.’

‘Is that why Chloe’s so darned resentful?’ Rory’s chiselled mouth twisted.

‘I’ve never seen Chloe quite so bad,’ Clay confessed. ‘You might have had something to do with that!’ A teasing grin split his face.

‘Cut it out!’ Rory’s voice was wry. ‘I’m sure Chloe can be a very nice person when she tries, but I have to say I’m not interested.’

‘What about Allegra?’ Clay continued, tongue-in-cheek. ‘She’s so much more beautiful—’

‘And brainier,’ Rory cut in. ‘Sorry, I know what a beautiful woman can do to a man. You’re one of the lucky ones.’

‘About as lucky as a man can get,’ Clay admitted with a smile. ‘Anyway, who could blame Chloe for being so miffed. Allegra has so much going for her.’

‘Really?’ Rory raised a brow. ‘I thought she’d just come out of an unpleasant divorce?’

‘So she has. I think she’s been feeling a bit down lately. Who could blame her?’

‘That must account for the way she hasn’t got around to telling her little sister to back off?’

‘It’s all about sibling rivalry, my man!’ Clay groaned. ‘Anyway if you like I’ll suss out the situation for you in the morning. No harm done one way or the other, but I’m pretty sure they’ll want to sell. I’ll see what Allegra has to say and let you know.’

‘That’ll be great, Clay. I much appreciate what you’re doing for me and thank you again for your splendid hospitality.’

‘A pleasure!’ Clay’s smile was wide and genuine.

Afterwards Rory found himself following the lingerers, Allegra and Chloe up the grand staircase quite unable to prevent himself from admiring Allegra’s long slender legs and delicate ankles. Never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated meeting a woman like this. To try to do something about it would be madness. He was a man looking for a suitable woman to make his wife. He’d be a total fool to lift his eyes to a goddess who found mortal men dull in a very short time.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts, half admiration, half remonstration, when he almost barged into her. As surefooted as a gazelle, she suddenly stumbled, throwing out a slender ringless hand he had already observed over dinner, to clutch at the banister.

‘Oh heavens!’ she gasped, sounding relieved he had broken her fall.

‘Okay?’ Rory’s arm shot out like lightning. With his arm around her, his whole body went electric with tension. He dared not even open his mouth again. Instead he stared into her disturbingly beautiful face, unaware his eyes had gone as brilliant and hard as any diamonds.

‘She’s sloshed!’ Chloe explained, looking at her sister aghast.

Rory found himself jumping to Allegra’s defence. ‘Nothing like it!’ His answer came out a shade too curtly, causing poor Chloe to colour up. Allegra Hamilton had had no more than three glasses of wine over the space of the whole evening. He knew that for a fact. He’d rarely taken his eyes off her, which could only mean he had more need of caution.

As it was, he held her lightly but very carefully, surprised the silk dress she wore wasn’t going up in smoke. He was searingly aware of the pliant curves and contours of her body. He could smell her perfume. A man could ruin himself over a woman like this. He fully understood that. He just bet she haunted the ex-husband’s dreams, poor devil!

‘Do you feel faint?’ he asked, studying her pale oval face.

Chloe looked on speechlessly.

For a moment Allegra’s dazzling gaze locked on his, then when she couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, she shook her head as if in an effort to clear it. ‘Just a little. It will pass.’

‘She doesn’t eat,’ Chloe informed him like it was an ill kept secret. Her face and neck were flushed with colour. ‘Anorexia, you know. Or near enough. So she can wear all those tight clothes.’

Now that just could be right, Rory thought. She had eaten lightly at dinner. She was as willowy as a reed. He should know. He still had his arm around her. It felt incredibly, dangerously intimate. Anyone would think he’d never had his arm around a woman in his life. He was no monk. But he was, he realised to his extreme discomfort, consumed by the warmth of this woman’s body and the lovely fragrance it gave off. It blurred his objective faculties, casting a subversive spell. Allegra Hamilton was a heartbreaker. He knew all about those.

‘Lord, Chloe, will you stop making it up as you go along. I’m not anorexic,’ Allegra sighed. ‘Though I confess I haven’t had much appetite of late. Or much sleep. Thank you, Rory. I’m fine now.’ It was said with the faintest trace of acid as though she was aware of the erotic thoughts that were running through his head. She shook back her hair, squared her shoulders and slowly straightened up. ‘It was just a fuzzy moment. Nothing to get alarmed about.’

‘How many times have I heard you say that after a dinner party?’ Chloe directed a tight conspiratorial smile in Rory’s direction.

‘The fact is you’ve never heard it, Chloe,’ Allegra answered with a kind of weary resignation.

‘I have, too,’ Chloe suddenly barked. ‘Mark was really worried about your drinking.’

Allegra laughed shakily. ‘What, Diet Coke?’

‘Why don’t I just carry you to your room?’ Rory suggested, not at all happy with the way she was near dragging herself up the stairs, one hand on the banister. He didn’t want to hear about her ex-husband, either. Not tonight anyway. ‘You’d be as light as a feather.’

‘You’re kidding!’ She paused to give him a vaguely taunting glance. ‘A feather?’

‘If I pick you up I can prove it. You look to me like you need carrying to your room.’ Before she could say another word or get out a word of protest, he scooped her up in his arms.

‘There, what did I tell you?’ His voice mocked her, but in reality he was seized by a feeling of intoxication that was enormously distracting. It came at him in mounting waves. For one forbidden moment he went hot with desire, quite without the power to cool it. Never before had a woman stirred such a response. His every other experience paled into insignificance beside this. A man of good sense should fear such things as not all that long ago men feared witches.

She caught her breath, astounded by his action. Then she gave way to laughter. ‘A woman has to be careful around you I can see, Rory Compton. I’ve never been swept off my feet before. Though it does fit your image.’

‘What image?’ He looked down at her with his brooding, light filled eyes.

‘Man of action. It’s written all over you.’

‘Look I’m really sorry, Rory,’ Chloe said, trotting in their wake. ‘Allegra is always doing things like this. It’s so embarrassing.’

‘Give me a break, Chloe!’ Allegra broke into a moan before she was overcome again by laughter. Peals of it. It simply took her over. ‘I’ve never met a man like Rhett Butler before,’ she gasped.

Though her mood seemed lighthearted, Rory had the odd feeling she was on the verge of tears. A woman’s tears could render a man very vulnerable. He knew when she was alone in her room they might flow.

With his arms around her body, her beautiful face so close, excitement was pouring into him way beyond the level of comfort. Wariness had turned to wonder. Wonder to a dark, albeit involuntary desire. She might have been naked in his arms so acutely did his senses respond.

Oh ye of little resolve! A taunting voice started up in his head. But then he hadn’t seen a woman like Allegra Hamilton coming.

What he needed now was a long, cold bracing shower. She was an incredibly desirable woman yet he was half appalled by his own reactions, the depth and dimension, the sheer physical pleasure he took in holding her. The breasts he couldn’t help but look down on, were small but beautifully shaped; her shoulders delicately feminine. Her arched neck had the elegance of a swan’s. What would a man feel like carrying a woman such as this to their bridal bed? It came to him with a fierce jolt he deeply resented the fact another man had already done so. How could that same man bring himself to let her go? He didn’t really know but he was prepared to bet it was she who had tossed her husband aside. And how many other men had she ensnared before him?

It was more than time to set her down before she totally messed him up.

Chloe ran ahead helpfully and opened the bedroom door. ‘Anyone would think she was a baby. She can walk.’ She looked up at Rory sympathetically. ‘Just put her on the bed.’

My God, didn’t he want to!

He was no damned different from all the other poor fools. Whatever his mind said, whatever his will demanded, underneath he was just a man whose fate was to succumb to woman.

‘Please, Chloe,’ Allegra laughed. ‘I’m the wronged party. It’s this cowboy who swept me off my feet.’

‘Cattleman, ma’am,’ he corrected, now so perversely hostile he barely stopped himself from pitching her onto the huge four-poster bed, its timber glowing honey-gold.

‘Rory, I didn’t mean to offend you,’ she apologised, still caught between laughter and tears.

‘Forgive me, I think you did.’ He couldn’t say he badly resented being put under a spell. He wasn’t accustomed to such things.

‘I confess I find your attitude a little worrying, too.’ From a lying position—God how erotic—she sat up on the bed, staring at him with her great topaz-blue eyes.

‘Hey, what on earth are you two talking about?’ Chloe was struggling hard to keep up. It all seemed incomprehensible to her.

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing,’ Rory said, further perplexing her. Allegra Hamilton in the space of one evening had got right under his skin. He was aware his muscles had gone rigid with the effort not to yield to the urge to lean forward, close the space between them, grasp those delicate shoulders and kiss her hard. Only desiring a woman like that was an option he simply couldn’t afford.

Maybe it was her utter unattainability that made her so desirable to him? He had to find a reason to give him comfort. On his way to the door Rory turned to give her one last glance.

A big mistake!

She couldn’t have looked more ravishing or the setting more marvellously appropriate. The quilted bedspread gleamed an opulent gold, embroidered with richly coloured flowers. Her dress had ridden up over her lovely legs, pooling around her in deep yellow. Her hair shone a rich red beneath an antique gilt and crystal chandelier that hung from a central rose in the plastered ceiling. Hanging over the head of the bed was a very beautiful flower painting of yellow roses in a brass bowl, lit from above.

It was enough to steal any man’s breath away.

‘Good night, Rory,’ she said sweetly, which he translated into, ‘Goodbye!’

He nodded his dark head curtly, but made no response.

Witch!

She was accustomed to putting men under a spell. But for all he knew she could have a heart of ice.

Coming as he did from the desert where there was a much higher pitch of light and the vast landscape was so brilliantly coloured, Rory found his trip out to Naroom, enjoyable, but relatively uninspiring compared to his own region, the Channel Country. The bones of many dead men lay beneath the fiery iron-oxide red soil of his nearly eight hundred thousand square kilometre desert domain. The explorers Burke and Wills had perished there; the great Charles Sturt, the first explorer to ever enter the Simpson Desert almost came to final grief—the German Ludwig Leichhardt became a victim of the forbidding landscape. Not only had the early explorers been challenged by that wild land, but so too were the pioneering cattlemen like his forebears who had followed. After good rains, the best cattle fattening country in the world, in times of drought they had to exploit the water in the Great Artesian Basin, which lay beneath the Simpson Desert to keep their vast herds alive. And exploitation was the word. It really worried him that one day the flow of water to the several natural springs and the artificial bores might cease. What a calamity!

To Rory, the desert atmosphere of home was so vivid he could smell it and taste it on his tongue. These vast central plains seemed much nearer civilisation. He had lived all his life in a riverine desert, bordered on Turrawin’s west by the one hundred thousand square kilometre Simpson Desert of central Australia. His world was a world of infinite horizons and maybe because of it, the desert possessed an extraordinary mystique.

It was certainly a different world from the silvery plains he was driving through. His landscapes were surreal. They seeped into a man’s soul. The desert was where he belonged, he thought sadly, though he accepted it was fearsome country compared to those gentler, more tranquil landscapes; the silvers, the browns, the dark sapphires and the sage-greens. He was used to a sun scorched land where the shifting red sands were decorated with bright golden clumps of Spinifex that glowed at dusk. Scenically the Channel Country was not duplicated by any other region on the continent. It was unique.

Unique, too, the way the desert, universally a bold fiery-red, was literally smothered in wildflowers of all colours after the rains. No matter what ailed him such sights had always offered him relief, a safety valve after grim exchanges with his father, even a considerable degree of healing. There were just some places one belonged. Fate had made him a second son and given him a father who had shown himself to be without heart. He was the second son who was neither wanted nor needed.

Well let it lie.

Clay as promised had set up this meeting with the Sanders women. Clay would have come along, only he was fathoms deep in work. Rory would have liked his company—they got on extremely well together—but he didn’t mind. It was just the two sisters and their mother. An exploratory chat. Just the two sisters? Who was he kidding? He couldn’t wait to lay eyes on Allegra Hamilton again. In fact it hadn’t been easy putting her out of his mind.