The Outback Cattleman's Hired Wife

by Natalia Elder

  ‘Jared Glengarry,’ he said, his tone deep and

  matter-of-fact. ‘I’m afraid mother left this morning. Aunt Joyce, her sister has taken another turn. Her rheumatoid arthritis has flared up again.’

  ‘I’m here about the ad. Did she tell you I was coming?’

  ‘No. What ad?’ He sighed and wiped his face wearily with his hand. ‘Okay, another one. Fine.’

  A wave of anger rose in the back of Kirra’s throat, but the consummate professional she was, she dampened it down.

  ‘Mother’s memory isn’t so good anymore,’ he told her in a more even tone. ‘She’ll be back by the end of the week.’

  Kirra’s mouth fell open. ‘End of the week!’

  ‘Mm, that’s been the norm for the past few bouts.’ His tall, solid form turned around. He strode over to the double glass-panelled front doors and pushed them open. ‘Come in out of the wind. You look cold.’

  ‘I am,’ she said. A bone-chilling shiver racked her body and she wondered if fear of the unknown wasn‘t part of its intensity. ‘I have a leather jacket in one of the suitcases in my car,’ she croaked out breathlessly, ‘but the rain is now relentless.’

  ‘Give me your keys,’ he commanded, taking a few strides towards her. ‘I’ll get them.’

  Careful not to touch him again, she was surprised that he seemed to care. She handed her keys over without

  a second thought. She watched him go out into the rain, collect her suitcases and pocket her keys.

  With a minimum of fuss, he carried them up the steps and deposited them on the verandah.

  Kirra smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Zac, her husband would never have been so obliging. He would have waited until the rain had stopped and reprimanded her for not wearing the appropriate clothing in the first place while he waited. But with the heater on in the car, she had no idea that the temperature had dropped considerably on the other side of The Great Dividing Range and it definitely wasn’t as cold when she stepped out of the car and the breeze blew up.

  Jared tipped his hat. ‘Mother must have been fairly impressed with you on the phone if she asked you to bring your belongings,’ he said and met her gaze with genuine interest.

  ‘Your mother mentioned it would be better to stay for a two-week trial,’ she said without hesitation, but unsure of what the arrangement would be now.

  ‘That’s the norm,’ he said, gathering up her suitcases. ‘Come in. Make yourself at home.’

  With nerveless fingers, she ran her hand over the back of her head. She suddenly felt like a fraud.

  ‘I’ll show you to your granny flat,’ he said in a firm tone that told her he was used to taking the lead. ‘I’ll

  conduct the interview in my study in ten minutes time, if you have no objections.’

  ‘No objections.’ Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears. ‘After all, the interview is more your concern than your mother’s.’

  ‘Yes, I only want what’s best for my son,’ he said with a pensiveness that stirred a curiosity within her. Then he turned abruptly and walked inside.

  Kirra had no option but to follow. She crossed the threshold into Glengarry Homestead, or so the carved wooden sign said that hung above the door. Instantly a warmth enveloped her and every cell in her body was grateful.

  Jared stopped just inside the door, put the suitcases down and hung his hat and coat on a hook.

  ‘I don’t need my jacket anymore,’ she said, closing the doors. ‘It’s lovely and warm in here.’

  ‘The heat from the pot-belly stove in the kitchen permeates the whole house,’ he muttered as he closed the front doors.

  Kirra could smell his masculine scent combined with an earthy mixture of horse, sweat and oil. In close proximity, it tantalised her senses and heightened her awareness of him. She spotted some blood on his shirt sleeve.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ she said, her concern genuine.

  ‘No.’ He turned around to face her. ‘Why do you

  ask?’

  ‘There’s blood on your shirt.’

  ‘I’ve just delivered a calf. It was a difficult birth.’

  ‘Will it be alright?’

  He grimaced. ‘Time will tell.’

  He picked up her suitcases and strode further down the hallway.

  The homestead was inviting. The walls were of light polished timber. Australian landscape oil paintings which looked like originals, hung on the walls. The ceilings were high and ornately-decorated. Painted iron lacework defined where rooms were situated, and large green and white tiles checked the floor like a giant chessboard. An antique dresser with a large attached mirror stood just inside the doorway. A white, lace doily and a vase of fresh brightly-coloured flowers sat on top.

  Awestruck by the simple, yet tasteful beauty of the place, Kirra stopped and smelled the flowers before following him.

  ‘The first door on the right is my study,’ he said.

  Jared’s deep rich voice startled her as the country feel of the house drew her in. It was so different from her apartment in Brisbane.

  She looked at him and could see his jaw tense. It was as if he really didn’t want her there.

  ‘Have you changed your mind?’ she asked.

  His broad shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed. ‘To be honest, I’m surprised that a woman of

  your age would want the position. Most of the ladies who have applied in the past have been considerably younger.’

  Kirra’s back straightened. How dare he judge her? She wasn’t that old. Her eyes flared with anger and zapped those scrutinising eyes with indignation.

  ‘Perhaps, they were filled with romantic notions of their teens,’ she bit out. ‘I’m twenty-seven, Mr Glengarry. According to your ad, I am within your age stipulations.’

  ‘Mother places all the ads. She must have acted upon my comment about the previous ladies being too frivolous and neglecting my son.’

  ‘I assure you that I’m far from frivolous.’

  Dark eyebrows rode up crinkling his high forehead.

  ‘That remains to be seen. Living under the same roof for a couple of weeks will reveal your true character,’ he said from experience. ‘It intrigues me why you would want to live out here in the country. You strike me as a woman who could use her intelligence for a high-paying city job. I’m afraid the Nanny Position only pays a basic wage. Unless, -’

  ‘Nanny Position?’ Kirra cut in. ‘You must be mistaken. I’ve answered the ad for a wife and mother to your son.’

  ‘Pardon me?’ His rugged features stilled on his

  tanned face.

  Kirra took a step back. ’I see you don’t believe me? I brought the ad with me.’

  She rummaged through her shoulder bag. ‘It’s in here somewhere.’

  Embarrassed, she could feel her neck and cheeks flush with heat, as she frantically searched for the scrap of paper.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted it and pulled it out to show him.

  Jared put down her suitcases and took the clipping from her hand. He accidentally brushed her fingers and that same jolting heat coursed up his arm when he’d shaken hands with her outside. He ignored it and read the ad, then looked at her - really looked at her. He’d had too much on his mind before.

  What kind of woman would answer an ad like this? This woman was intelligent and beautiful. His eyes roamed over her - soft, full-length, honey-blonde hair; incredible almond-shaped eyes, brown with flecks of green and gold; a full kissable mouth under a long, straight nose and pale skin - too pale for his liking. Did she spend all her time indoors? She was a good head shorter than him, but was tall enough to fit nicely under his arm and she had good ankles. She’d do - What was he thinking?

  Kirra bristled under his overt scrutiny. ‘I admit the ad sparked my curiosity. I take it that you’re the

  Capricorn gentleman?’

  Jared’s eyes scanned the clipping. He laughed. ‘This is ridiculous. Mother placed an ad for a nanny for my son
. I don’t know where this one came from.’ He eyed her with suspicion.

  Kirra’s small chin rose in defiance. ‘I assure you, Mr Glengarry, it was in yesterday’s Brisbane Bulletin newspaper. The description fits you. Is that your telephone number?’ She reached over and pointed to the bottom of the clipping.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Flummoxed, he raked his fingers through thick, dark hair.

  ‘Could your mother be playing matchmaker, perhaps?’

  ‘I doubt that very much, Miss Whitely.’ His tone was frank and controlled. ‘I’ll put a call through to the newspaper. There must be some kind of mix-up.’

  ‘When I spoke to your mother,’ she said, then stopped when she recalled that when she’d enquired about the ad, she hadn’t specified that it was for a wife and mother. ‘So I’ve come all the way from Brisbane for nothing?’

  Jared’s nostrils flared, air rushing out like a frustrated steed. Had he met his match? The wayward thought entered his mind. There was something about her. Her chin was high and she was standing her ground. She was strong and determined. He liked that.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid unless you want the Nanny

  Position, you’ve wasted your time coming out here.’

  ‘The Nanny Position wouldn’t suit me.’

  ‘But marrying a complete stranger would?’ he asked.

  Kirra grimaced. ‘Well, no. Your mother did ask me to stay for two weeks so we could see if we were compatible. This is the address she gave me.’ She flipped over the clipping in his hand and pointed to where the address was handwritten.

  ‘That’s absurd. Mother wouldn’t give you this unless she thought you were applying for the Nanny Position.’ He handed the clipping back to her. ‘Someone is playing a cruel joke on me, but I can’t imagine who? I have no enemies.’ He paused as if mentally scrolling through his list of friends and acquaintances. ‘I assure you, Miss Whitely, I am quite capable of finding a suitable marriage partner if I so desired one.’

  ‘I’m sure you are. But the fact still remains that I’m here because I have answered your ad in good faith.’

  And I feel this intense chemistry between us!

  It took her by surprise that she found herself wanting to get to know him for real.

  ‘You have no right to be angry with me,’ she said in defence, wrapping her arms around her belly.

  A short burst of laughter erupted from his broad chest and his face softened a little with a delightful crooked smile.

  A curl of desire stirred in her loins and a small gasp

  of shock escaped from her pursed lips.

  His eyes narrowed briefly in puzzlement. ‘I suppose not,’ he conceded in a calmer tone. ‘Please accept my apology. This ad has been the last straw in a problem-filled day.’

  Kirra sighed and dropped her arms by her side. ‘Apology accepted.’

  ‘Would you care for a cup of tea before you leave?’ he offered with country hospitality. ‘I think there’s still a few homemade cookies in the jar unless my son has eaten them all.’

  Kirra smiled. ‘I thought you’d never ask. I’ve been dying for one,’ she said. ‘The drive over the mountains was rather harrowing with all those slippery, winding roads.’

  ‘They can be treacherous if you’re not used to it,’ he said knowledgeably, setting down her suitcases in the hallway.

  His masculine scent tickled her senses once again as he eased past her. She lost her train of thought.

  What was wrong with her? She was a professional journalist trained to deal with people from all walks of life. It was as if she had no control over her mind or senses. It was very disconcerting. All she could think to do was switch off all her senses, but to do that she’d have to be dead!

  ‘I don’t have much time. Milking the cows in this weather has been atrocious,’ he said with a weariness in

  his tone that Kirra hadn’t noticed until now. ‘Please, come into the kitchen.’

  Without hesitation, she followed him down the hallway and into the next room on the right.

  When she arrived, to her surprise, Jared was on his haunches patting an old Kelpie dog by a lit pot-belly stove.

  ‘How are you, old girl?’ he muttered, rubbing her tummy, then he checked her back legs.

  Kirra bent down beside him, holding out her hand for the dog to smell. The dog looked at her and licked her hand.

  ‘She’s so sweet,’ Kirra said on a heartfelt sigh. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Jesse,’ he replied, as he stood. ‘She has arthritis in her back legs. She’s getting old.’

  Kirra patted her. ‘Hello, Jesse.’

  Jared strode over and washed his hands at the sink before filling the kettle.

  Kirra stayed with the dog for a few moments, stroking her head, her heart going out to her.

  ‘Can she walk?’ Kirra asked, as she stood and washed her hands at the sink.

  ‘Yes, but she likes to sleep most of the day now.’

  ‘How long have you had her?’

  ‘Jesse was a twenty-first present from my parents. I’m thirty-four so that makes her fifteen,’ he said after

  doing the Math in his head. ‘Feel free to take a seat.’

  The kitchen held a warm country charm to it with its polished timber walls and copper pots and pans which hung from a rack attached to the ceiling. Kirra smiled at the feminine touches around the room. The floral, frilly cushions on the mahogany chairs around the kitchen table were obviously handmade, along with the matching filigree curtains adorning the window over the sink.

  Kirra made her way to the table and sat down on one of the chairs, facing him.

  ‘Your mother’s handiwork is absolutely beautiful,’ she couldn’t help sharing her thoughts.

  ‘My wife’s,’ Jared corrected as he put the kettle on the gas stove adjacent to the sink and lit the burner.

  Kirra’s mind clouded with confusion. ‘So do now have a wife?’

  ‘Did.’ He hesitated a little before spooning loose tea leaves into a china pot. ‘She died two years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with genuine sympathy, though she was already aware of it from her research, but didn‘t let on. ‘My husband, Zac died a year and a half ago.’ The words slipped out without so much as a catch of emotion in her voice. It surprised her.

  Jared swung around. Their eyes met with a mutual flicker of understanding. It had felt like he was the only person in the world to lose a spouse. The pain had cut through him with a depth and duration that he thought he’d never recover. Knowing someone else had been

  through the same gut-wrenching emotions somehow opened his heart towards her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘You must have been through hell and back.’

  The kettle boiled and whistled before Kirra could answer so she just nodded and lowered her eyes to stare at the sugar bowl.

  He turned off the gas, grabbed the kettle off the stove and poured water into the teapot.

  ‘Where’s your son?’ she asked, her mind filled with the many questions of an investigative journalist.

  He placed the lid on the teapot and returned the kettle to the stove. ‘With my mother on the Gold Coast. He’s on school holidays at the moment and wanted to go to the beach with her.’

  ‘The weather hasn’t been much better there.’

  ‘No, but this rain will ease off soon. He should see sunshine later in the week.’

  ‘The ocean will be cold.’

  ‘He has a wetsuit and a boogie board. He loves the water. He wants to start Little Nippers’ training.’

  ‘I lived on the Gold Coast a couple of years ago. It’s a bit far to travel from here. You have to train every Sunday morning at the beach.’

  ‘Exactly. I’m trying to put him off until he learns to drive.’

  Kirra laughed. ‘Ten years of nagging. He’ll wear

  you down. Good luck with that.’

  Jared grimaced as he brought the teapot to the table, then gathered cups, saucers, spo
ons and milk from the refrigerator. His stomach gurgled at the sight of his fresh breakfast ingredients but as tempting as they were, he’d have to wait now until suppertime to use them.

  Kirra noticed the milk was in a jug which surprised her. ‘Don’t you use cartons?’

  ‘No. This is fresh milk from the cows. This is a dairy farm,’ he informed her, taking the seat adjacent to her.

  ‘It’s not pasteurised or homogenized then?’ she asked. ‘Won’t it have bacteria?’

  ‘No, if the calves can drink it as is, so can we,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘How do you like your tea?’

  ‘Strong with a lot of milk,’ she said not put off because the milk wasn’t her usual variety from the supermarket.

  He gave a grateful smile that melted her heart, then poured her tea.

  ‘Thanks.’ She took a sip and smiled into her cup. ‘It’s just the way I like it.’

  Zac had never made her tea - even that time she was bedridden with the flu for a week. He’d brought in his mother to take care of her while he’d carried on his usual high life. She’d suddenly remembered with distain.

  A telephone rang somewhere in the house and interrupted the painful memory.

  Jared grabbed a cookie and rose to his feet. ‘Excuse me. I’d better answer that.’

  Kirra nodded, sipped at her revitalising tea and then he was gone.

  An ethereal warmth filled her body as if it had just come back to life.

  Alert, yet at peace with her inner-self, she stared into her teacup at the residue leaves as she tried to fathom how it had happened. Did Jared have something to do with it? Or was it just the change of scenery?

  She hadn’t realised until now how many hours she’d spent immersed in work at the office. Mirth touched her lips, as she wondered what her best friend, Elise would say if she knew her persistence had performed a miracle.

  Moments later, Jared’s large frame filled the doorway. His hands were held in tight fists by his side.

  ‘Your interview is over, Miss Whitely,’ he said in a clipped tone of disgust.

  ‘Interview?’ She was perplexed. ‘We were just talking.’

  ‘Please kindly return to Brisbane and forgot that you’ve ever been here,’ he ground out. ‘I don’t appreciate being the topic of one of your newspaper articles.’