by Valerie Parv
She had his full attention now. “Why especially not from me?”
“Because I’m starting to care about you, and for some reason, that troubles you. You can do me the courtesy of telling me your reason and letting me decide for myself if it’s justified. But you may not command me in what I should or shouldn’t feel.”
Tom’s blood chilled. His worst nightmare was standing right in front of him. A woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer. He debated whether to tell her exactly what she risked if she let herself care for him, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t bear to see her turn away from him in revulsion, any more than he could stand the thought of hurting her if his father’s genes gained the upper hand.
Yet he couldn’t have it both ways.
With that parting thought, he turned and left the room.
Chapter 7
After Tom disappeared into his office, Shara wandered around the house feeling unsettled. He’d definitely been as aroused as she was. She wasn’t such an innocent that she couldn’t recognize when she affected a man.
Following him and demanding he share his secret wasn’t likely to wring a confession out of him. In his way he was as stubborn as Shara herself.
Was he afraid of Jamal? Unlikely. Make that impossible. As they drove into the town he’d told her about helping Blake to move the crocodile. Such a man would never let a bully dictate his actions.
She picked up a beer can sheathed in an insulated covering boasting Halls Creek, the Most Lawless Town in the State. Trust her to seek sanctuary in such a place. So far, the place was anything but comforting.
From behind Tom’s closed door she heard the tapping of a keyboard. He might not want to make love to her, but he was nearby if she needed him. Small consolation, but it would have to do.
Her gaze went to the spa bath overlooking the living room. Tom had said he’d be busy for some time, and had told her to make herself at home. She’d intended to freshen up in the shower, but every muscle ached from the rough ride to get away from Jamal. A spa would be far more relaxing.
While the bath filled, she went to Tom’s bedroom and retrieved a khaki ranger’s shirt. He had several identical shirts, so she assumed he wouldn’t mind her borrowing one, especially since she had no other clothes until they could return to the cottage for the rest of her things. She resisted the temptation to explore his bedroom. She was unlikely to find the answers to her questions here. They were more likely to be inside Tom himself.
In the living room she shed the dust-streaked shirt and jeans she’d borrowed from Judy and wriggled out of her underwear. Silk was definitely not suited to outback living, she decided as she dropped the bra and panties into the hot spa so they could soak while she did. No doubt in the outback heat they would be dry in no time.
She draped a towel from the shower over a chair, then stepped into the steaming water. At the touch of a button the water churned to foaming bliss and she sank up to her shoulders, a moan of pure pleasure escaping her parted lips.
The bath was large enough for three people, so she stretched luxuriously, letting her head drop back and her hair stream out around her, floating away the dust and aches of the day. She kept her injured leg propped on the edge, the spa’s wide rim making this surprisingly comfortable.
Tom had been right about the view from the spa. From his sandstone ridge, the surrounding ranges possessed a lunar sparseness. When she lifted her head she could see a high collar of bare white rock surrounding a checkerboard of red- and black-soil plains. Tufts of spinifex decorated the hilltops while grasses and eucalyptus trees dotted the plains. The color and texture was as different from Q’aresh as Tom was from Jamal, but she found a comforting similarity in the landscape teeming with life on the edge of a baking desert.
Halls Creek was a small town but provided all the essential services in a Wild West atmosphere and she promised herself she would explore thoroughly after Jamal ceased to be a threat. From what she’d seen of the Kimberley, she wanted to spend more time here before returning to Q’aresh. Once she’d convinced her father to have Jamal’s activities investigated, there would be nothing to stop her.
Remembering Tom’s fear that Jamal might try to drag her back to her country and marry her by force made her shiver in spite of the heated bath. Jamal would have to kill her first.
He must have been furious when he reached the cottage and found she’d gone. She’d hate to be responsible for him taking his anger out on Des and Judy, and she resolved to ask Tom to call them to make sure everything was all right. Judy hadn’t said a lot about Des’s illness, but Shara gathered that they were worried about him. Shara would never forgive herself if such a generous man suffered because of her.
This bath wasn’t proving as relaxing as she’d hoped, as the worries continued to churn through her mind. In desperation she began to sing a desert lullaby a nanny had taught her. Shara couldn’t have been more than four when she’d first heard it, but the song was strong in her mind.
Sea of stars, silver moon,
Light your dreams
And bring them soon.
Shifting sands warmed the day,
Now peaceful night
Keeps fears at bay.
The tent is still, still as night,
As here you drowse
Till morning light.
The song conjured up such a vivid image of the desert sands of her homeland lapping at the fringes of the modern cities, that a wave of homesickness made her voice catch. How long would it be before she could safely see it again?
Shara’s song reached Tom in his office and his hands stilled on the keyboard. When he’d taken her in his arms he’d noticed the bloom of bruises on her skin from the rough ride and felt like a heel because it was his fault. In spite of the danger from Jamal, he should have treated her with more care.
He’d hoped Shara would avail herself of the hot spa. And he really did have work he wanted to do. But when he’d heard the spa start up, he’d been surprised by the strength of his desire to abandon his task and join her. He wasn’t making much progress here.
He was halfway out of his chair before he forced himself back into it. Bad enough to have her kiss lingering on his mouth and his arms aching for the pliant feel of her. So he’d retreated to his office to avoid the temptation to take more.
Her voice lifted, the notes pure and bell-like, and he caught something about a tent in the desert. As a boy anxious to be accepted into Andy Wandarra’s clan, Tom had gone into the Great Sandy Desert, spending a week alone sleeping under the stars and living off the land.
In her position, Shara probably hadn’t spent much time alone. He would like to show her his desert sometime. Of all the women he’d met, she was the one most likely to appreciate the great silences and a velvet canopy crowded with more stars than he’d known existed.
What was he thinking? Just the idea of being alone in the house with her was making him rock hard. Taking her into the wilderness was not likely to help him keep his distance. Propping his elbow on the desk he cupped his chin with one hand, letting his mind join her in the spa.
He was probably crazy but he couldn’t resist. And a fantasy couldn’t hurt either of them, right?
In the fantasy she’d see him watching her and ask him to turn away so she could get out of the water. He’d never known a woman so unaware of her own beauty. Rising like Venus, the bubbles streaming off her, she’d take his breath away.
He’d say softly, “I have a better idea.”
Before she could ask him what he had in mind, his clothes would be scattered on the floor and he would step into the water beside her. She wouldn’t say anything but he imagined how her pulse would spike as she sat down again.
The water level would surge as he sank beneath the bubbles on the opposite side of the bath. As he stretched out his long legs they would tangle with hers. He could practically hear her gasp of surprise but she wouldn’t pull away. It might be the first time in her life that she�
�d shared a bath with a man, but she would soon get the hang of it. In his dreams, anyway.
When they were kids, Judy and his foster brothers had used a rainwater tank on the property as a swimming pool, tumbling naked together in the tepid water. Like most people in the Kimberley, the Logans lived so close to nature that modesty was a waste of energy. Was it similar in Q’aresh? He would dearly love to find out.
Except that he wasn’t moving from this chair until he heard her turn off the spa and retire to bed.
Don’t even go there, he ordered himself. He’d shown her around. She knew where she was to sleep. She didn’t need him to tuck her in.
Damn, but he wanted to.
The phone rang, shattering his fantasy and not a moment too soon. “McCullough,” he said sharply.
“Interrupting something?” a voice asked.
“No, Blake, you aren’t interrupting anything,” he told his foster brother.
“But you wish I was.”
“How in the devil…? You bastard. I’m at my desk catching up on paperwork. What did you think I was doing? On second thought, don’t answer that.”
Blake did anyway. “Keeping a certain lady company.”
The last of Tom’s arousal ebbed away. “How do you know she’s here?”
“Jamal came to the homestead demanding to know where we were hiding her. I put two and two together.”
Relief swept through Tom. “Then he doesn’t know she’s with me?”
“He didn’t learn it from us. He’s such an arrogant swine that I wouldn’t give him the time of day if he asked me for it.”
“Is Des okay?”
“He’s all right, although not surprisingly, he was troubled by Jamal’s visit. For that alone, I may have to kill Mr. Do-You-Know-Who-I-Am Sayed.”
Tom couldn’t help chuckling. “Is that how he introduced himself?”
“Not in so many words, but it’s how he acted. He drove up to the homestead in a huge black Range Rover, the effect a bit spoiled by the red dust messing up the showroom shine. Brought a couple of beefy blokes with him for backup when they blazed up to the house.”
“Employees of Max’s?”
“I only recognized one of them as Max’s man. The other was probably Jamal’s bodyguard.”
“Was Max with them?”
“Not this time, but I’ll bet he wasn’t far away. Those two are made for each other.”
Tom’s hand tightened around the phone. “They can be in bed together for all I care, provided they leave Des out of this.”
“I don’t think they will as long as you have what Jamal wants.”
“You’re not suggesting I hand Shara over to him?”
“You know me better than that, Tom. I’m only saying this guy means business. You have something he wants and he isn’t the type to give up easily. You need to watch your back.”
“Always do, big brother. And thanks for not letting on where Shara went.”
“It’s the least I can do. There’s one more thing you should know. Jamal made Des an offer. My guess is he’s already offered Max financial backing in exchange for help getting his fiancée back. Last night he insinuated that the mortgage over Diamond Downs would vanish if Des cooperated, and he’d be generously compensated for the trouble he’s been put to.”
Tom whistled softly. “No more worrying about the future of Diamond Downs, money in the bank for his transplant. Des must have been sorely tempted.”
“For all of about five seconds.”
Tom dragged his fingers through his hair. “Just as well Shara doesn’t know. She’s noble enough to throw herself to the wolves to help Des.”
“Don’t let her. We can’t trust any cartel that has Max Horvath in it. He’s likely to accept the deal then go after the diamond mine as soon as Jamal drags Shara back to Q’aresh.”
“Then we’re agreed, we don’t tell her,” Tom said.
“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of other things to talk about,” Blake said. “You go back to whatever it was that I didn’t interrupt, and have a good night.”
“Remind me to slug you one next time we meet.”
“You and which army?” Blake asked in a pleasant tone.
After he said good-night to Blake, Tom’s warm glow was overwhelmed by hot-blooded anger. How dare Jamal try to bribe Des into betraying Shara? He knew his foster father well enough to be certain he wouldn’t be tempted for a minute. The code of the outback had been bred in the older man’s genes long before Tom and her foster brothers and sister concocted their own version.
The callousness of the offer chilled Tom’s soul. Jamal was rich enough to get Des out of financial trouble with change left over. Yet the price he had put on his help was Shara’s freedom. No wonder Shara was appalled at the idea of marrying such a man.
Tom looked down at his hands. They were so tightly clenched they shook. What he wouldn’t give to get his hands around Jamal’s throat right now. He’d take positive pleasure in throttling the life out of him.
“No.” The agonizing protest was wrenched from him. Was this how his father had felt before he abused Tom’s mother? Had he rationalized his urge to do violence just as Tom was doing now? Tom could argue that Jamal deserved whatever he got, but the arguments rang hollow in his mind. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to hurt Jamal for his own reasons.
Just as well he hadn’t given in to the urge to go to Shara. She deserved a better man.
Bathed, her hair dried using a masculine gun-shaped drier she found in the bathroom, and wearing the ranger’s shirt, Shara felt a little better. She would have felt a lot better if Tom hadn’t spent the evening locked in his office, but she was in bed by the time she heard him emerge.
Wide awake, she listened to him humming as he went around the house, snapping off lights and locking doors. As he passed her door on the way to his own room she recognized the Q’aresh lullaby. He must have heard her singing in the spa.
Her impatient sigh ruffled the darkness. What exactly did she want? Not a relationship when she was still under threat of an arranged marriage. And definitely not the constant attention she’d occasionally found trying at her father’s palace. Something in between, she decided, although the thought of Tom as a friend wasn’t satisfying either.
He went to his room without stopping and she heard nothing more after he closed his door. She took deep breaths, trying to slow her breathing and slip into sleep.
An hour later she was still wide awake.
Back home she would have summoned an attendant to bring her a glass of herbal tea. Here, she had no one to fuss over her. She slipped out of bed and pulled on the ranger’s shirt, then padded out to the kitchen, careful not to make a noise and disturb Tom.
His kitchen didn’t run to herbal tea, but there was cold milk in the refrigerator. Glass in hand, she wavered. Returning to bed made sense, but she was still too alert to sleep. It was daytime in Q’aresh. She would telephone her grandmother and assure her she was all right. Shara had already decided to stand by Jamal’s story that she was in Australia of her own volition, at least for the moment. No need to burden the older woman with the truth when there was nothing she could do to help. But Noni knew her granddaughter well enough to be suspicious of the message, and Shara hated the thought of her being worried.
She also wanted to hear the beloved voice for her own sake.
Tom’s study door was ajar. She could use one of the phones in the kitchen or living room, but her voice might carry and wake him. No sense in both of them having a troubled night. She went into his study and closed the door behind her.
The desk was at right angles to the door. As she sat down she tried not to notice the way the chair carried the imprint of his body. Photos and notes littered the desk. She recognized some of the rock art she’d seen during her fateful visit to the gorge, and she rubbed her calf absently. These pictures were not for female eyes, so out of respect for local custom, she covered them with a sheet of paper and pulled the telephone t
oward her, keying in the direct number, which bypassed the palace switchboard and connected her with Noni’s apartment.
At the sound of her grandmother’s personal assistant, Shara almost wept. The land of her birth had never seemed so remote. She hoped it wasn’t lost to her altogether. She had to put on a good show for Noni, she reminded herself, banishing the tears. When her grandmother came on the line, Shara made sure she sounded bright and cheerful.
Twenty minutes later she was glad she had called. Noni was far from convinced that Shara had chosen to accompany Jamal, but trusted her granddaughter’s judgment. She always took her side, Shara mused, wishing she possessed as much wisdom as her grandmother.
Shara’s grandfather had valued his wife’s counsel, in spite of his conservative ideas about the roles of men and women. Noni had been working as a governess in his palace when they fell in love and married. He’d professed to be exasperated by his foreign wife’s desire for equality for women, but had gradually acceded to her gentle pressure to allow his female subjects greater freedom.
Thanks to Noni, the women of Q’aresh now enjoyed a high standard of education, drove vehicles, pursued careers and no longer had to conceal themselves under voluminous garments. Their lives were still largely controlled by men, but as her grandmother said, drops of water could wear away stone.
Her grandparents’ love had bloomed for half a century until her grandfather died of a sudden brain hemorrhage. Sixteen years later, Shara still missed him although she knew he’d never valued her as highly as he did her brother.
Would Shara’s life have been different if her father had also married a foreigner? Family history described Vivani Najran as stunningly beautiful but delicate and submissive, probably why her father had chosen her as his bride. He’d never been happy about his mother’s liberal views and probably wanted a wife as different from Noni as possible.
