The Shy Socialite

by Lindsay Armstrong

  ‘What’s she like?’

  Brett considered and gave Bella the last bit of his sandwich. ‘Very beautiful. She has long blonde hair, a striking figure. She and Natasha make a good pair, come to think of it, although Nat’s a redhead.’ He paused. ‘My ex-fiancée.’

  Holly’s mind fled back to the dinner party she’d witnessed at Palm Cove. Unless there were two stunning redheads in his life, had the one she’d seen been his ex-fiancée? If so, did that mean they were still friends?

  ‘No curiosity on that subject, Miss Harding?’ he queried, a shade dryly.

  Holly shrugged and looked away. ‘I’m sure it’s out of bounds, and besides, its none of my business.’

  ‘True.’ He looked reflective. ‘Anyway, Aria is a biochemist and actually very nice, although something of a meddler.’ He looked briefly heavenwards. ‘But since Mark’s a computer genius they have similar lifestyles in common.’

  Holly looked around. ‘So all this falls to you? I mean all the responsibility, the planning and so on.’

  ‘Yes.’ He sat back and crossed his hands behind his head.

  ‘It must be quite a handful, combining it with your other work.’

  ‘More or less what I’ve been thinking for a while now,’ he agreed with a wry little smile. He sobered. ‘But it’s in my blood. Just as you inherited your father’s writing gene, I must have inherited my f—’ He stopped abruptly.

  Holly waited but found she was holding her breath.

  ‘Much as I don’t care to admit it,’ he said finally, ‘I must have inherited my father’s gene for cattle and the land.’

  Holly released her breath slowly. Although the thought chased through her mind that she’d been right—there had been something between Brett and his father—she was mindful of his warning about going into things he didn’t want go into.

  ‘So it’s something you really love,’ she said instead. ‘I can understand that.’

  He looked at her penetratingly. ‘You can?’

  ‘I think so. It’s probably unfair to say there are more challenges out here than in suburban life, but to me anyway these open spaces are not only exciting—’ she looked up at the wide arc of blue, blue sky above ‘—they’re liberating. I guess that’s what motivated my father and may have come down to me.’

  ‘You really mean that, don’t you?’ He sat up.

  Holly nodded, then grimaced. ‘Probably easy enough to say. So. What’s on this afternoon?’

  He eyed her, sitting so relaxed in her chair in her peasant blouse with its pretty embroidery, her legs long and bare and her hair curling madly.

  What’s on this afternoon? he repeated to himself. What would you say, Miss Harding, if I told you I’d very much like to take you to bed? I’d love to strip your togs from your body and explore those slender lines and delicate curves. I’d like to touch you and make those pink lips part in surprise and pleasure, those blue eyes widen in wonder…

  It was a disturbance over the fence in the holding paddock that drew his attention away from Holly—saved by the bell, he thought dryly. He saw that his foreman, Kane, had arrived back from the fencing trip with his two offsiders.

  But as his gaze came back to Holly, he saw that she was staring at him with her lips parted, her eyes wide—all in some perplexity.

  His lips twisted. ‘Why don’t you relax? I’ve got some things to discuss with Kane. I may take him back to the dam to show him what I want done, so I could be tied up all afternoon.’

  ‘Uh, all right,’ Holly responded after a moment. ‘I can do some work anyway.’ She hesitated. ‘If Sarah’s still not well would you like me to cook dinner?’

  ‘Thanks.’ He stood up. ‘That would be great.’

  Holly withdrew her gaze from the physical splendour of Brett Wyndham in his board shorts. ‘Um, do I cook for Kane and the others?’

  ‘No. They’ll cater for themselves in their quarters. See you later.’ And he walked away.

  Holly cleared up their lunch and retreated to her cabin, where she admitted to herself that she was somewhat bothered and bewildered. Or bewitched.

  She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling like a star-struck teenager, she admitted as she pulled a pillow into her arms. So, what to do about it?

  No answer presented itself and she fell asleep.

  It was starting to cool down when she re-emerged, showered and once again changed in her blouse and jeans.

  She checked on Sarah first and took her a pot of tea and a snack—all she wanted. She persuaded her to stay where she was, assuring her she was quite able to handle dinner.

  A couple of hours later, with the oil lamps lit and the table set attractively again, Brett put down his knife and fork and said, ‘You can cook. Another gene from your father?’

  Holly’s face dimpled into a smile as she glanced at the remains of the golden-brown lasagne she’d prepared, along with a fresh green salad and some warm rolls. ‘No. The cooking gene comes from my mother, in case you thought I was all my father’s doing.’

  Brett lay back in his chair and studied her. He had also showered and had changed into a clean khaki shirt and beige chinos. ‘What does come to mind…’ He twirled his wine glass. ‘Is the fact that you’d make someone a really handy wife.’

  Holly looked put out, although there was glint of laughter in her eyes. ‘That’s not exactly a compliment, Mr Wyndham,’ she said gravely.

  ‘Sorry,’ He grimaced. ‘As well as a very attractive wife, of course.’

  ‘That’s a bit better!’ Holly approved. ‘But I don’t think I’d make a good wife, actually.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She gathered their plates. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She shrugged and stood up.

  He rose too and told her to sit down. ‘I’ll do this.’

  Holly sank back and watched him clear the table. He came back and topped up their wine glasses. ‘Why not?’ he asked again.

  She looked at him and looked away. She stroked Bella’s head. Somehow the dog must have gauged her inner distress with the subject, because Bella had risen and put her head on Holly’s lap. Despite her inner distress, there was something else, something new. For the first time she wanted to explain why she was the way she was.

  It was to do with this man, she thought. Because he moved her, whether she liked it or not…

  She took a deep breath. ‘A couple of years ago I fell madly in love,’ she said quietly. ‘What I didn’t know was that he was a married man. And I only got to know it when his wife started stalking me.’

  Brett stopped with his wine glass poised in his hand, then he slowly put it down. ‘I’m sorry. Seriously stalking you?’

  ‘I thought so. She wrote threatening letters, she threatened me over the phone, she turned up at work, she harassed my mother—she threw a brick through my car window once. It got to the stage where I was looking over my shoulder all the time, even scared to go out.’

  ‘She sounds crazy,’ he said.

  Holly shrugged. ‘I’ll probably never know whether it was the cause or the effect of her husband’s philandering, but it left me with several complexes. Strangely, although she scared me silly at times, I felt a streak of sympathy for her, whereas I could have killed her husband for putting me in that position. You could say I fell off cloud nine with a huge bump.’

  She looked away and for a moment tears glittered in her eyes.

  ‘Go on,’ he murmured eventually.

  ‘I couldn’t believe I’d been so thoroughly taken in by him. I can only—I’d just lost my father, who meant the world to me, so I was depressed and so on when I met him.’

  ‘He was still living with her?’

  ‘No, he’d moved out, so I had no reason to suspect he was married. But I guess that’s my number-one complex—a terrible lack of judgement on my part. Funnily enough, I’d never believed I was the kind of girl to be swept off her feet by a man.’

  ‘Or vice versa—who does?’

  Holly sm
iled bleakly. ‘It doesn’t help. Anyway, I’m very much on guard against that kind of thing happening to me again. And I’m terribly, terribly wary now of the maelstrom of emotions that can go with love and marriage.’

  ‘Maybe she was a unhinged. Perhaps you struck a one-in-a-million situation?’ he suggested.

  ‘Or maybe she just felt herself to be a woman scorned. Maybe she felt she couldn’t live without him; they had two children. Maybe she just felt desperate; I don’t know,’ Holly said.

  ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘He went back to her and they moved overseas.’ Holly fiddled with her napkin then looked straight into his eyes.

  ‘But for a few months I was in serious trouble. I felt so guilty, even though I hadn’t known about her. I was a nervous wreck—I still sometimes break out into a sweat and think I’m being followed. But my mother finally persuaded me to get some counselling and that’s when I realized only I could get myself out of it. So I plunged into my work and the harder, even the more dangerous it was, the better.’

  ‘And now?’

  Holly rubbed her hands together. ‘For the most part, fine, but still terribly wary of men and love and marriage—and my own lack of judgement.’

  ‘I see.’ He finished his wine. ‘I guess that explains your aversion to chemistry.’

  Holly bit her lip. Of course, he was quite right. The only thing was, she hadn’t had any problems with “chemistry” after that disastrous affair until he had come into her life. Well, she’d been perfectly capable of stonewalling it without feeling it herself, but that was not the case now.

  She looked across at him. ‘My mistrust of it, yes. But I can’t say it hasn’t happened.’

  ‘Between us?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. She gestured a little helplessly. ‘But you—you’re… This is business, serious business for me anyway. I need to get this interview right. If I don’t, you’ll can it or my editor will.’ She said with sudden passion, ‘I need to make it vibrant and compelling. I can’t do that if I’m—distracted.’

  He stared at her with his lips twitching.

  ‘What?’ she asked huskily.

  ‘You are on the horns of a dilemma.’

  ‘If you’re going to laugh at me…’

  ‘I’m not,’ he interrupted. ‘Although that did strike me as, well, probably the least of our problems.’

  Holly felt herself blush. She said honestly, ‘You’re right. I don’t know where that bit came from.’

  ‘Come and see the moon.’ He stood up, came round to her and held out his hand.

  She looked up at him. ‘Where did that come from?’

  He smiled. ‘The moon? It just struck me, it’s full tonight. See?’ He pointed out towards the east.

  Holly gasped at the orange globe rising above the tree line. ‘Oh! How beautiful.’ She got up.

  ‘Mmm…’ He took her hand and led her out onto the lawn.

  Holly was transfixed as the moon rose, and in the process lost some of its orange radiance and shrunk a bit. She shivered. Days out in the savannah might be hot, but the nights were very cold, and she hadn’t put on her jumper.

  Brett put his arms around her. She couldn’t help herself, and she snuggled up to him.

  ‘Maybe this says it all,’ he murmured, and started to kiss her.

  Her lips quivered, but it seemed to her that her senses would no longer be dictated by her mind. They clamoured for his touch; they were lit by the feel of him, tall and hard against her, and tantalized by the pure essence of man she was breathing in.

  She loved the press of his fingers against her skin; she loved the way they explored the nape of her neck and behind her ears while he kept his other hand around her waist.

  But a skerrick of common sense claimed her and she raised her hands to put them on his chest. ‘We ought to stop and think,’ she breathed. ‘This could be very dangerous.’

  He lifted his head. ‘Why? It has nothing to do with anyone but us, and we couldn’t be in more agreement at the moment if we tried.’

  Holly made a strange little sound in her throat. He stared down at her mouth in the moonlight and started to kiss her again.

  She was almost carried away with delight when he stopped and raised his head to listen.

  She came out of her enchanted trance with a start as she too heard footsteps. ‘Sarah,’ she breathed. ‘I’d forgotten about her. She must be feeling a bit better—hungry, maybe!’

  ‘We’ll go to your…’

  ‘No! I need to go and see if she’s OK.’ Holly stood on tiptoe and kissed him swiftly. ‘Thanks for listening.’ She sped off back towards the house.

  Brett said something unrepeatable under his breath then looked down to see Bella sitting beside him. ‘Come to sympathize, old girl? Well, what would you say if I told you that Holly Harding could be the right one for me? She’s taken to Haywire as if she was born to it; she could be running the place, but of course it’s not only that. She’s becoming more and more desirable. But do I want a wife? It’s hard to put down roots without one. How good would I be with a wife, though?

  CHAPTER SIX

  THERE was a triple knock on Holly’s door before sunrise the next morning.

  She’d been hovering on the edge of wakefulness for a while and she jerked upright, scrambled out of bed and went to open the door. ‘What? Who? Why?’ she breathed. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘No.’ It was Brett dressed in jeans and a jacket. ‘Come and see the sunrise.’

  ‘But I’m not even dressed!’

  ‘Throw some warm clothes on, then; we haven’t got much time.’

  She hesitated then shrugged. ‘OK.’

  Ten minutes later she joined him in the ute.

  She’d thrown on some slouchy trousers and a jacket and she was finger-plaiting her hair. They bumped over some rough ground for a few minutes then came to a lip in the ground, as far as she could see in the headlights.

  Brett pulled up and switched the ute off. ‘Won’t be long now. Come and sit on the bonnet.

  Holly did as she was bid, and slowly the rim of the horizon started to lighten. As it did the chill breeze that had seen her wrap her arms around herself dropped. With gathering speed, the darkness faded and she was looking down a long valley; all the colours of the landscape—the burnt umber and olive greens, the forest greens and splashes of amber—started to come alive as the sun reached the horizon.

  It was so beautiful in the crystal-clear cool air, and alive in every little detail. She found she was holding her breath as she watched a wedge-tail eagle planing the thermals. Then as the sun climbed higher, that particular vividness of early dawn faded a little, and she sighed wistfully.

  ‘Thank you for that,’ she whispered, as if she was afraid of breaking the spell by talking aloud.

  He merely nodded and got off the bonnet, but only to reach into the ute for a thermos flask and two cups.

  The coffee he poured from the flask was full-bodied and aromatic. ‘I thought you might be cross with me for dragging you out of bed.’

  ‘No. Well…’ Holly grinned. ‘That may have been my first tiny reaction.’ She sipped her coffee and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Smells so good!’

  He climbed back onto the bonnet. ‘So you slept well?’

  ‘I did. I…’ She hesitated and thought of the tussle she’d had with herself before she’d been able to fall asleep. ‘I did decide I needed to apologize.’

  He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘What for?’

  Holly chewed her lip. ‘This is not that easy to say but I seem to have developed the habit of—kissing you—and, uh, sloping off.’

  ‘You have,’ he agreed after a moment.

  Holly looked slightly put out.

  ‘What did you expect me to say?’ He drained his coffee and put his cup down.

  ‘I didn’t expect you to agree quite so readily. And there are reasons for it, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ he echoed. ‘Such as, we just
can’t seem to help ourselves? That’s what promotes it in the first place, at least.’

  Holly wrapped her hands around her mug and was considering her reply when he went on, ‘Then you get cold feet.’

  ‘Well, I do! Why wouldn’t I?’

  He tilted her chin, observed the indignation in her eyes and smiled slightly. ‘I could be going too fast. Should we just be friends for today?’ He released her chin and put his arm around her shoulders.

  Holly opened her mouth to ask him what he was going too fast towards, but she decided against it. She diagnosed one good reason for that: it felt so good to have his arm around her, and to contemplate a friendly day ahead, she didn’t feel like debating anything.

  ‘What else will we do today?’ she enquired.

  ‘I’m flying to Croydon for a meeting, cattle stuff. If you’d like to come, you could visit the old gold-rush museum and we could fly onto Karumba for lunch. Karumba is on the Gulf of Carpentaria.’

  ‘Sounds great. I think I’d like that very much.’

  She did.

  She pottered around Croydon while he was in his meeting, she marvelled at the size of the Norman River from the air and she enjoyed a seafood basket on a thick, green lawn beneath shady trees. The Sunset Tavern at Karumba Point sat on the mouth of the Norman River and overlooked the shimmering waters of the gulf.

  ‘It must be magic at sunset,’ she said idly.

  ‘It is. Pity we can’t stay, but I’ve got another meeting this afternoon at Haywire.’ He stretched his legs out and clasped his hands behind his head.

  ‘Never mind. It’s been beautiful.’

  He looked across at her. ‘You’re easy to please.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that. It has been great.’ She pushed away her empty seafood-basket. ‘So were the prawns.’

  He laughed. ‘Karumba is the headquarters of the gulf prawning-industry—they should be!’

  Holly patted her stomach and sat back. That was when she noticed a couple of young women seated at a table nearby and how they were watching Brett with obvious fascination.