From Waif To His Wife

by Lindsay Armstrong

  ‘Maisie?’

  He waited until she was finally able to bring herself to look at him, to find his expression austere and unreadable. ‘Perhaps the solution is to make this a real marriage. We are two mature adults, aren’t we?’

  ‘Rafe.’ She paused and sniffed again, then she sighed. ‘Thank you, and I do seem to have grown up pretty fast lately. But I guess one thing that won’t change about me is the conviction that it needs to be love, not lust, for me, for the next time around-if there ever is a next time around.’

  ‘Sometimes the first can grow from the second.’

  She shrugged and tried to make light of things. ‘Maybe I’ll always be strictly a horse-before-the-cart kind of girl from now on. But don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine. This rarefied sort of life is getting on my nerves, that’s all. Although your sister has been marvellous.’

  He looked at her drily. ‘If for no other reason than the fact that my sister has given me to understand she’ll personally strangle me if you come to any harm at my hands, we will find a way to make this work, Maisie.’

  Maisie blinked. ‘Sonia said that?’

  ‘More or less. And Sonia, mad, is not to be trifled with.’

  Maisie had to laugh, and finally the situation was defused.

  He stayed to have a drink with her, and he told her about the plans he’d made for after their wedding-a week in the country.

  ‘Not-not Karoo?’ she queried warily.

  ‘No, another station, with not a Dixon in sight.’

  ‘That’s a rel…’ Maisie stopped awkwardly.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘A relief? I realise you’re not a fan of the Dixons in general but we aren’t all-’

  ‘No, I meant, it’s a relief there’ll be no family to have to put on a charade for.’

  ‘Ah.’ Something flickered at the backs of his eyes. ‘No, there won’t. There will be staff but they have their own quarters. I thought you might find it interesting. I happen to love it and sometimes I’d give my right arm to spend more time there.’

  ‘How will we get there?’

  ‘By helicopter.’

  Maisie found herself watching him out of new eyes for a moment. As if she was glimpsing another fascinating facet of Rafe Sanderson.

  ‘However,’ he said then, ‘after that we’ll come back here to Brisbane and we’ll get down to where you’d like to be based.’

  Sonia came back at that point. She poured herself a drink and updated Rafe on the arrangements she’d made for the wedding day.

  ‘The marriage celebrant will arrive at your apartment at eleven. We’ll be there then, so will Jack, and I’ll arrange to get all Maisie’s stuff sent over earlier. Any objections?’

  Rafe raised his glass to her. ‘Beloved, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  He left not long after that and he and Sonia had a short private conversation as he was leaving. Maisie didn’t ask what it was about, and Sonia didn’t offer to tell her.

  Truth to tell, Maisie had more on her mind than what Sonia and Rafe had been discussing.

  Had she given her feelings away to Rafe? Was that why he’d suggested a real marriage? But why would he even be thinking along those lines unless-as he’d intimated when he’d asked her, no, told her he was going to marry her-it was a marriage he needed to make rather than wanted to make?

  So how would she feel about that? A marriage, not in name only but a marriage of convenience, all the same, for them both?

  Terrible…

  The next morning all, so far as Maisie believed anyway, was revealed about Sonia and Rafe’s private conversation-a day at the beach accompanied by Sonia’s children.

  Maisie had already met the twelve-year-old Marcus, ten-year-old Hilary and nine-year-old Cecelia, and liked them, although she’d decided a little wryly they were the only people in the world who were excited about this forthcoming wedding.

  But a day at the beach was an inspired idea on a clear, sunny morning. Although it was a day at the beach done in the style only the very rich could afford.

  Sonia had booked two interconnecting rooms at a lovely resort hotel right on the beach at the Gold Coast and just across the road from the exclusive shopping of the Marina Mirage Centre, for the day. And it worked wonderfully well. They swam and romped on the beach in the morning, they had lunch around the pool then they had two cool, stylish rooms to retire to, to shower and change and relax for a while before they went shopping.

  Maisie did take the precaution of wearing a concealing hat and dark glasses, and Sonia did the same, but it was a fun expedition with no unpleasant surprises.

  Then they had an exquisite afternoon tea at the Palazzo Versace, next door to the Marina Mirage, before driving home, all pleasantly tired.

  ‘Was that Rafe’s idea?’ Maisie enquired after they’d dropped the kids off.

  Sonia nodded. ‘He was worried about you. He reckoned you needed a bit of a break. Are you going to be all right tomorrow?’ she asked directly.

  Maisie drew a deep breath. ‘Yes.’

  And that conviction stayed with her, helped by a good night’s sleep, through most of the next day…

  But Sonia had another surprise up her sleeve. She somehow turned a wedding between two people marrying for all the wrong reasons into a festive affair.

  After the short ceremony presided over by the marriage celebrant, Marcus, Hilary and Cecilia, all beautifully dressed, showered them excitedly with rose petals and confetti.

  Not only that, but there were also flowers everywhere, champagne on ice and a wedding lunch laid out-even a cake.

  So it was a lively lunch for them all. Jack was a surprisingly entertaining guest and proposed a brief but rather sweet and funny toast to the bride and groom.

  Then Sonia gathered her offspring and took her leave along with Jack.

  She kissed Maisie warmly then she kissed her brother, but her expression directed at him as she stepped into the lift somehow said very much in an older-sister manner-it’s up to you now; don’t let me down!

  Both Rafe and Maisie found themselves smiling ruefully as the lift doors closed silently.

  ‘She is a character,’ he murmured.

  ‘Yes, but she’s been lovely to me. Is there any hope she and her husband can get back together?’

  Rafe sighed and shrugged as he pulled off his tie. ‘I keep trying to promote it, but really, only Sonia can do it. She…Put it this way, I don’t think Liam, her husband, feels he’s ever broken through, or will be able to, to the real Sonia.’

  Maisie blinked. ‘Not even three children later?’

  ‘Not even three children later,’ he repeated. ‘There are reasons why she likes to keep a part of herself to herself but we won’t go into that now. OK. We have half an hour to get changed and get to the airport. Think you can do it?’

  ‘Yes, but-’ Maisie looked around a bit dazedly ‘-we can’t leave all this.’

  ‘The same team who put it together will dismantle it. Off you go.’

  She bit her lip and went. Obviously, there was going to be more than the obvious to get used to in her new life.

  She shed her green silk suit, her pale stockings and changed into loose long trousers and a shirt. Her clothes had been brought from the leased apartment and her bag for the trip out west was packed and ready. Then she stared at the suit hanging up in the closet.

  Rafe hadn’t commented on her appearance but his eyes had softened for a moment as they’d rested on her, and he’d handed her a beautiful posy of white violets.

  That had been a tricky moment, she reflected. It had brought a lump to her throat.

  She looked around and reregistered the fact that she’d been given what was obviously the master bedroom in his apartment on the river, with great views, a huge bed and a décor of taupe on raspberry.

  It was a beautiful room but why had he moved out? She’d have been perfectly happy with a guest bedroom…Why did this room, this whole apartment make her feel uneasy? />
  ‘Ready, Maisie?’ Rafe called through the door.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Coming!’ And she positioned the broad-brimmed khaki felt hat, a hat Sonia had insisted was de rigueur for a sheep-farmer’s wife, on her head at a jaunty angle.

  CHAPTER NINE

  S HE should have expected it but had not-that Rafe would pilot his own helicopter.

  She’d never flown in a helicopter before but she found the experience fascinating and she was even more fascinated to discover that he had actually flown round Australia by helicopter.

  ‘This one?’

  ‘Yep! I made some modifications to it for the trip. I put in some long-range fuel tanks, somewhat to the detriment of seating accommodation. It’s basically only a two-seater bird now but she has plenty of range.’

  And he told her a bit about his trip, which made her green with envy.

  Then they intercepted a mayday call on the VHF radio.

  They were west of the Darling Downs, where the country was drier, although there was still some feed, dusty, crisscrossed by stock trails and sparsely populated and they were heading into the setting sun.

  She had her own headphones, principally so she and Rafe could converse above the noise, but she was also tuned into the three-way conversation that ensued.

  It was an accident at a cattle-muster camp with a man requiring urgent medical attention or evacuation to the nearest hospital.

  The Flying Doctor responded immediately from their base in Charleville while Maisie stared down at the desolate terrain they were flying over, her heart in her mouth as the man from the muster camp reported the injured man’s condition.

  ‘Poor bloke,’ Rafe murmured. ‘Sounds like spinal injuries, which may mean he shouldn’t be moved without a doctor present.’

  Then Maisie heard the man reporting the accident say tinnily, ‘…won’t get a fixed-wing aircraft in, country’s too rough, we need a chopper…’

  That was when Rafe transmitted to report his position, not that far as the crow flew from the muster camp.

  ‘Hotel Zulu 459,’ the Flying Doctor base came back, ‘we don’t feel the patient should be moved without medical supervision but would you be able to render any assistance in the meantime?’

  ‘Hotel Zulu 459 back to Base,’ Rafe responded, ‘I do have a comprehensive medical kit on board and some first-aid training. Muster Camp, Muster Camp, this is 459, can you give me a more accurate idea of your location?’

  ‘Muster Camp back to 459,’ came the tinny voice, ‘I’ve got a GPS here in the ute; I’ll get the reading off it. Hang on, mate.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ Rafe murmured, twisting his microphone away from his mouth for a moment. ‘I’m sorry about this, Maisie, it may not be pleasant but-’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about me,’ she said immediately.

  He gave her a quick pat on the knee and twisted his mike back into place.

  As the latitude and longitude co-ordinates came through, she watched him punch them into his GPS, set a target then read off the distance and time to target. ‘OK, Base,’ he said into the mike, ‘we’re about twenty minutes away. Let us know what you want us to do.’

  ‘Stand by 459,’ Base responded. ‘I have a doctor coming on air to talk to you.’

  It turned out, as Rafe discussed the situation with the doctor, that he had sufficient training and the right medication on board to be able to stabilise the patient until a bigger State Emergency Services helicopter with a doctor on board could be flown to the site to supervise the patient’s removal, hopefully within a couple of hours at the most.

  ‘There!’ Maisie breathed and pointed to a pall of dust rising into the air above the rocky, uneven ground below away to her left. ‘It looks as if they’ve got some cattle in a pen of some kind and-and I can see a ute, two of them, some horses and a makeshift kind of camp.’

  ‘That’s it. Looks like they’ve spread a sheet on the ground where it’s most level.’ He spoke into his mike again. ‘Muster Camp from 459, make sure those cattle can’t break out, mate, I need to know that before we come in, in case we spook them.’

  He said it quite casually but Maisie closed her eyes in fright.

  ‘459, it’s a permanent yard-they can’t go nowhere. See the sheet we laid out?’

  ‘Affirmative. OK, I’m coming in.’

  ‘You can open your eyes now, Maisie. We’re safe and sound on the ground and there are no stampeding cattle to deal with.’

  Her lashes flew up and she heaved a sigh of relief, to see Rafe looking at her with a little glint of devilry in his eyes before he turned his attention back to shutting the helicopter down.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s not that I don’t have great faith in you-’

  ‘It’s OK. You’ve been terrific. Many a girl I know would have had the screaming heebie-jeebies. Right. Let’s see what I can do.’

  Three hours later Rafe was still in charge of the patient because the SES helicopter had developed engine problems and had had to return to its base.

  Maisie had sat around the camp fire, the muster crew had gone out of their way to make her as comfortable possible, and they’d cooked dinner on the fire and produced plenty of strong coffee.

  But it was a tense time. Even the cattle in the yard were restless under a paper-thin wedge of new moon and bright starlight as they shuffled and lowed. And the dust caked everything.

  It had been a freak accident. The ringer involved had been thrown from his horse when a snake had wriggled across its path, right next to the camp. Fortunately that meant they hadn’t had to move him-they’d moved part of the camp instead so there was cover to protect him from the sun earlier and now the dew.

  But it was obvious from his grey, sweat-streaked face that he was in considerable pain despite Rafe’s ministrations and the splint he’d put on his broken arm. And it was plain that he couldn’t move his legs, which was terrifying him.

  ‘Al,’ Rafe said abruptly to the camp foreman, when they got the news the SES helicopter had had to turn back, ‘could you rig up some kind of shelter for my wife and maybe lend her a swag?’

  ‘Sure thing, Rafe.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Maisie protested. ‘You don’t have to worry about me.’

  ‘Little lady, you do what your husband suggests,’ Al recommended. ‘We’d all be happier if you didn’t have to go through much more.’

  She hesitated but there wasn’t anything she could do.

  So they set up makeshift shelter for her and built a fire in front of it to keep her warm. Then they laid out two swags and gave her two blankets.

  ‘But what about you?’ she asked.

  ‘None of us is going to sleep anytime soon,’ Al responded. ‘Anyway, we’re tough. You get a bit of rest,’ he added and patted her shoulder in a fatherly way.

  Rafe came over to her then with her bag and a mohair blanket from the helicopter.

  ‘I’d just add some clothes,’ he recommended. ‘It’s going to get really cold. And if you need to go to the loo, I’m happy to ride shotgun.’

  ‘Oh, thanks!’ she said with real gratitude.

  She discovered the bed they’d made for her on the ground was bearable, and she dozed for a couple of hours.

  Then she heard a helicopter overhead and the terrain outside her shelter was bathed in the harsh blue light of its searchlights as it reconnoitred. She heard shouts to move the kerosene lamps to indicate a slightly different landing pad, then the ground shook as the helicopter settled and a minor dust storm flew past her shelter.

  She couldn’t hear much of what was said because the cattle had become thoroughly stirred up again but some time later the helicopter lifted off, there was a renewed bovine commotion, more dust-and Rafe came to join her.

  He added a log to the fire and dropped down beside her makeshift bed.

  ‘Move over, Mrs Sanderson, I’m coming in and I’m bloody freezing!’

  Maisie moved over instinctively and he crawled in beside her
.

  ‘Mmm…’ he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘As warm as toast.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘They think it could be a trapped nerve in the spine. If so, that’s good news. Are you comfortable?’

  ‘Yes. How about you?’

  ‘Yes. Go to sleep.’ He lifted a hand and stroked her hair for a while.

  She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t keep her eyes open and she snuggled up to him and fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.

  It took Rafe Sanderson a bit longer to fall asleep as he battled several emotions.

  If he put aside Tim Dixon’s baby, the girl in his arms felt almost as if she belonged there. He certainly felt a sense of responsibility towards her. He couldn’t help admiring her pluck and her honesty…

  He grimaced to himself in the firelight as he recalled his first, harsh reaction to her incredible story-that she was on the make somehow, that she expected him to be moved enough to hand over some cash to her for just those reasons. Well, he’d done far more-he’d given her the protection of his name.

  Of course, although it appeared not to have struck Maisie, his own good name could do with a bit of protection against impregnating a naïve girl and flaunting her as his wife then, apparently, discarding her. And the further sleaze that could be added to the mix to do with her being passed between him and his cousin.

  But what of the future? She’d admitted to feeling safe with him but had it gone any further? Or, he thought drily, were some of her reactions, reactions that sometimes prompted him to think so, still part of a policy of hedging her bets?

  If so that meant she’d rather cleverly orchestrated her opposition to his proposal-she’d thought fast and on her feet.

  Unless-had she always somehow divined that to make him chase her would have the curious appeal he’d actually confessed to her?

  But did he really believe any of that of Maisie Wallis, feeling so soft now and lovely in his arms with her breath sweet on his neck and her lashes lying like dark fronds on her perfect skin? Hell, he thought suddenly, why am I putting myself through this?

  Because you had no option, he reminded himself, other than freezing out there on the hard ground, or sitting upright in the chopper. Not to mention causing, no doubt, comment.