A growing sense of horror started to unfurl in her stomach. ‘But what?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Liam?’
‘He killed himself.’ He spun around. ‘Lucas committed suicide!’
Her hand flew to her mouth.
‘And I should’ve seen it coming.’
‘No, you’re wrong! That’s not your fault either, Liam.’
‘I should’ve taken better care of my little brother.’ He dragged a hand back through his hair. ‘I owe him, Sapphie.’
‘Owe him?’
‘I owe my whole family. My mother can’t step foot on Newarra any more because this is where it happened. Even though Newarra had been her home for over forty years. I owe them all.’
What did he mean owed them?
‘Let me adopt Lucas’s son. Give me a chance to put it all to rights.’
‘No!’ She leapt off the sofa, shaking with the horror of all he’d been through…and the horror of what he was proposing now. ‘Babies aren’t sticking plaster, Liam. Harry’s sole purpose in life is not to make you and your mother feel better! He’s a baby—a little boy—and you can’t thrust that kind of responsibility onto him. He should be loved for himself, not as a…as a replacement for Lucas.’
The tan leached from his face. ‘I—’
‘It is not Harry’s responsibility to make you happy. It’s your responsibility to make him happy.’
‘I’m not—’
‘What makes you think you’re such great father material anyway? You can barely crack a smile, let alone laugh. What kind of environment is that for a little boy to grow up in, huh?’
‘What other options does Harry have?’
His words stopped her dead. Her legs gave out, dropping her back to the sofa. Harry’s options? With his mother in jail, his father dead, and an aunt who was worse than useless? A foster family? The very thought broke her heart.
‘Do you doubt that I would love him?’
She didn’t know. There were shadows in this man—shadows she wasn’t sure he could overcome.
There were shadows in her too. Yeah, but she wasn’t proposing to adopt Harry.
And then she remembered the way he’d sung in the early hours of this morning. If the man could sing, could he learn to laugh again? Could he learn to be a proper father to Harry?
He loomed in front of her now, his bulk cutting out the light from the French doors. ‘Sapphie, we need to talk about this.’
Slowly she nodded, tried to find the strength to straighten her spine. ‘Yes, we do.’ When he didn’t move she added, ‘But I don’t want to talk with you towering over me.’
He immediately sat—on the floor—giving her the height advantage. It was a nice thing to do.
‘I should go home and talk to Emmy—find out what she wants me to do.’
‘If you go home now, all you’ll be able to tell her is about Lucas’s death. If you stay…’
‘If I stay?’
‘You can tell her about me and Newarra. If I can prove to you that I can bond with Harry and give him a good life here then it might give her an option she hasn’t considered.’
His words made sense.
‘I don’t know how serious Emmy is about having Harry adopted. New mums sometimes need a little time out. She could have postnatal depression. She could be rethinking her decision right this very moment.’
Sapphie recalled the resolution in Emmy’s eyes and pulled her hands through her hair. ‘She’s serious.’
‘But, apart from all that, doesn’t Harry deserve to know his father’s family too?’
Sapphie recalled all those photographs in the family album Liam had shown her only yesterday. Harry deserved the very best life could offer. Could Liam give it to him?
He reached over and took her hand. ‘Don’t I at least deserve a chance?’
The moment he took her hand Liam knew he shouldn’t have. It trembled in his, and the combination of her softness and warmth created an ache so deep and sweet it took all his strength not to lean across and kiss her.
Kiss her? His pulse kicked in instant response and all his senses fired to life.
He tried to draw breath into his body without betraying how starved for air it was. He couldn’t prevent his gaze from dropping to her lips; he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what it would be like to taste them.
Her eyes turned a deep luminous green and her tongue snaked out to moisten those lips—generous, full lips that promised—
She shot back from him, snatching her hand from his. She scooted along to the far end of the sofa, held up the coffee pot. ‘Did you want coffee? It’ll go cold soon.’
‘No, thank you.’ He didn’t think he could stomach coffee at the moment.
She dropped the pot back to the tray. He couldn’t get the scent of her out of his nostrils.
‘Then do you mind if we move outside?’ She was already on her feet and halfway to the door. ‘We may as well take advantage of the fresh air.’
He stared after her, recognised the tension in her spine, the tightness. His teeth ground together. He was not in the habit of forcing his attentions on unwilling women. Surely she realised that?
Would she be unwilling, though? The thought filtered though him—insidious, tempting. Perhaps that tenseness was because she was holding herself on as tight a rein as him?
He shot to his feet with a curse. It didn’t matter whether she wanted him or not. He wasn’t going there. This woman had for ever written all over her. He’d tried for ever and it didn’t work. He wasn’t going through that again. He should be concerning himself with guaranteeing his nephew’s future. Nothing else.
With a grim nod, he followed her out to the veranda.
She stood at the railing, hands folded in front of her as she stared out at the garden. This had been his mother’s favourite spot. Even at the height of summer it felt cool out here. An illusion, perhaps, created by the two giant pepper trees that dominated the lawn on this side of the house. Their shadows, lengthening now as the afternoon waned, created huge swathes of dappled shade, their long strands swaying on the smallest breeze.
‘Sapphie?’ He motioned to an old-fashioned wrought-iron and wooden bench, overlaid with a thick pad. Sapphie ignored it to lean over the veranda balustrade. Liam remembered how she hadn’t wanted to talk to him while he’d towered over her, so he lowered his frame to the bench instead, and waited.
Finally she turned and leant back against the railing, her hands going behind her to grip it. ‘You’re right, Liam. Harry does deserve to know all his family.’
Hope lifted through him. If only Sapphie would give him a chance. He wanted to give Harry the childhood Lucas would have wanted for his son. Liam owed Lucas that.
‘Lucas would have wanted Harry to grow up out here.’ He wanted her to know that.
He didn’t know why he couldn’t say it out loud—perhaps it meant too much—but he burned to give Harry the childhood he and Belinda had planned for their own children.
‘You’re wrong, Liam. What Lucas would want is for whoever adopts Harry to love him like a son.’
Like a son. Her words stabbed him.
‘Can you do that?’
Yes! A thousand times yes! But he couldn’t push the words out of his throat. He remembered his feelings of inadequacy last night when he’d first held Harry and his conviction wavered. Sapphie had dealt with a screaming, crying child for six hours. If the need arose, could he? On his own?
‘Sid told me you were a good man. Beattie said you were a good man. So did Jared and Anna. But it doesn’t necessarily follow that you’re the right man for this job.’
‘I can try!’ The words burst from him. ‘If you’ll stay, it’ll give Harry and I a chance to get to know one another.’
He rose and planted his hands on his hips. ‘If you stay on at Newarra as housekeeper for the next two weeks you’ll get an insider’s view of life here, and then you’ll be able to make an informed decision
as to whether Harry can be happy here…have a good life here. That’s all I’m asking, Sapphie—for a chance.’
He wanted to reach out and take her hand in his again. He dragged in a breath and resisted the urge. ‘Will you stay?’
For a brief moment she wavered, and then she smiled and it stole all his held breath. ‘Yes, Liam,’ she finally said. ‘Harry and I—we’ll stay for the next fortnight.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SAPPHIE skipped down the back steps, jumping off the last one and making for the clothesline, her step light and springy. She couldn’t account for the energy that fizzed through her, leaving her revitalised, invigorated, but a bubble of optimism was growing inside her—dislodging and lifting the weight from her shoulders.
She hadn’t caught up on all her sleep yet.
Harry’s future was far from assured.
But things looked brighter than they had at midnight last night.
Harry had smiled at her more than once. He’d even hugged her! Liam had sung ‘Fernando’. The afternoon was all golden, violet and orange. The air was still, and scented with clean earth and warm rock. The sun was benign. The gentle chattering of a flock of northern rosellas came from the pepper trees. She flung her arms out, tossed her head back, and dragged it all into her lungs.
She loved this part of the world!
Of course you do. You’re Bryce Curran’s daughter.
The thought made her stumble. Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement and recoiled, but she wasn’t quick enough. The ground beneath her left foot reared up and hissed at her.
She snatched her foot back, so startled that she shot backwards with two awkward half-hops before her heels, failing to find purchase, shot out from beneath her and sent her crashing spectacularly to the ground.
She lay there, gasping, the air forced out of her lungs by the impact. The offending piece of ground tore away from her on its hind legs, tail swishing behind it. A frilled-neck lizard! She should laugh—the imagined threat was no real threat at all.
She would laugh. Just as soon as she got her breath back.
Just as soon as her heart rate returned to normal.
She tried to force her body to relax, tried not to fight the effects of being winded. She knew her breath would return faster if she surrendered for a moment and unclenched her body.
Impossible.
Then came the sound of heavy footsteps running towards her, and her heart-rate almost exploded as a shadow loomed over her, blocking the sun. ‘That was one heck of a fall! Are you all right?’
A big, broad, male body leaned over her. Strong, powerful. Overpowering. Fear welled in her chest. Panic clawed at her throat. She tried to back away from it, but pain gripped her lower leg, momentarily disabling her.
Idiot! She’d let her guard down. This was a working station. There’d be stockman, ringers…men she didn’t know. She tried to ignore the pain, did what she could to push away from the threat of this body, tried to dislodge the lump from her throat to open her mouth and scream as loud as she could.
‘What are you doing?’
Exasperation laced the voice as the shape crouched down beside her. He threw off his hat and—
Liam! It was Liam!
She closed her eyes and let relief flood her.
Oh, no. She snapped her eyes open. She would not make the same mistake twice. After all, what did she really know about Liam Stapleton?
‘He’s a good man,’ Sid had said.
‘He’s a good man,’ Beattie had said
‘He’s a good man,’ Anna and Jared had said.
Yeah, well… She’d thought Jonathon had been a good man too. It hadn’t stopped him from raping her.
Liam is not going to rape you.
‘Sapphie?’
She swallowed, and did what she could to rein in her panic. ‘I…I stepped on a frilled-neck lizard.’
‘I saw. We’ve a pair of them.’ His lips twisted. ‘They’ve the whole of the Kimberley, over 420,000 square kilometres of land to choose from, and yet they decide to take up residence in my pepper trees.’ He paused. Those Kimberley-sky eyes of his narrowed. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘It scared the living daylights out of me!’
One eyebrow rose.
‘It’s being winded,’ she muttered. ‘I hate it. Not being able to breathe like that.’
But she had her breath back now. She went to push to her feet, but fell back with a gasp as pain clamped around her right calf and refused to let go.
‘What is it?’ Liam leant towards her, his voice sharp.
‘Cramp,’ she gritted out from between her teeth. ‘I just need to walk it out.’
‘You’re not walking on that leg until I’ve taken a look at it. Put your arm around my shoulders.’
She forgot all about the pain. ‘What?’
‘Either you put your arm around my shoulders so I can help you hobble over to the steps, where I can take a decent look at you, or I’ll carry you. Your call.’
She gaped at him.
‘Sapphie, we’re miles from medical help. If you’ve hurt your leg I don’t want to make it worse. We don’t take those kinds of chances out here. If you’ve twisted your knee or ankle badly, Beattie is going to have to stay. You’ll need help with Harry.’
‘No! Beattie has to go to Kununurra to be with her daughter. She was so excited.’
‘Why don’t we just check the leg first? All right?’
There didn’t seem to be anything else to do but submit.
‘Give me your hands.’
She pulled in a breath, let it out again, and did as he said.
‘Don’t put any weight on that leg,’ he warned as he pulled her to her feet and slid an arm around her waist to steady her.
Cautiously, she reached up to hold onto his shoulder. Her breath caught and her fingers dug into firm flesh as the cramp caught hold with renewed vigour.
But, despite the pain, with every hobbled step towards the back steps she grew more and more aware of the man beside her—his hardness, his strength…the latent power and heat that he generated. With every step her hip, her side, her thigh, bumped against his hip, his side, his thigh…
Her heart pounded and her throat went dry. The hand at her waist held her against him…firm yet gentle.
‘Easy,’ he murmured, lowering her to the steps.
She tried to say thank you, but her throat wouldn’t work.
‘I’m going to take your shoe off.’
She stared at the lean, tanned hands as they worked her sneaker free, and had to fight the urge to not pull away.
He peeled off her sock. ‘It’s not swollen.’ His fingers probed the bare flesh of her ankle. ‘Does this hurt?’
The cramp took hold again. She held herself so tense she was amazed her whole body didn’t cramp up. ‘It’s not my ankle. It’s my calf,’ she ground out.
Her heart fluttered all the way into her throat when he started to roll up her jeans. ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked.
‘I need to take a look.’
He kept rolling her jeans, almost to the knee. She reached down to push his hands away, to rub the calf muscle herself, but he batted her hands away. Before she could protest further he stretched out her leg, flexed her ankle, and then his long, lean fingers started to massage her calf, working the muscle, running up and then down the bare flesh of her leg.
Sapphie fell back on her elbows, fighting the conflicting desire to leap out of this man’s grasp or to lean back further and groan her relief as the pain eased.
With a superhuman effort, she did neither.
Liam glanced up. ‘Better?’
She nodded.
His fingers didn’t stop. They continued to rub and massage her calf, and Sapphie found her limbs growing languid and warm. She found herself wishing she’d had time for a leg wax before she’d left Perth.
She stiffened. That was the craziest thought she’d ever had in her life! She didn�
�t care what Liam thought of her legs. She didn’t want him to find them attractive or…or otherwise.
‘I…uh…’ She tried to detach her leg from his grasp. ‘It’s fine now.’
‘Not yet.’ He rotated her foot clockwise, then anti-clockwise. ‘Does that hurt?’
‘No.’ The word emerged short and just a tiny bit breathy.
He bent her knee. ‘Or that?’
‘No.’ She couldn’t stand it any more. She pushed his hands away and moved up a step. ‘I told you, it was just a cramp.’
He pursed his lips. He didn’t straighten from his crouch.
‘What?’ she said, defensive hackles rising as he continued to stare at her.
‘That cramp—it could’ve been caused by the sudden change in direction.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She started to unroll the leg of her jeans.
‘Cramps can also be caused by dehydration.’
‘I’m not dehydrated. I’ve drunk plenty of water since I arrived. Not to mention tea.’
He stared at the collar of her shirt, at the long sleeves. ‘I bet you’ve perspired plenty out again in that get-up.’
She sucked in a breath, shot to her feet. ‘What I’m wearing is no concern of yours!’
‘Can you walk on that leg?’
‘Of course I can.’ She welcomed the change in topic. She took a few steps along the veranda to prove it. ‘See?’ The muscle was tight, but not enough to stop her from getting about.
‘Good, then come with me.’
He strode through the back door. She followed more slowly. Beattie smiled at them as they passed through the kitchen.
Liam led her down an unfamiliar corridor and flung open a door. ‘This is Lacey’s room.’
His sister?
‘I know it’s coming on to winter in Perth. I know you didn’t plan on spending a whole fortnight in the Kimberley and packed accordingly.’ He moved into the room to throw open a wardrobe door. ‘Lacey won’t mind if you borrow a few things while you’re here.’
The Cattleman, The Baby and Me Page 6
