Margaret Way - The Australian Tycoon's Proposal

Yes, she was ideally suited to a Spartan existence.

“So, why don’t you freshen up while I put these away?” he suggested.

What a cheek! She swept her long wavy hair off her nape. “Go to the devil!”

He raised a mocking brow. “Do you mind! You’re a prickly little thing, aren’t you? Not a bit like our Gilly.”

“I’m not little at all,” she flashed. “And she’s not your Gilly. I just look little beside you. What are you, six-six?”

“Not even in high heeled boots. It’s a good thing you’re not in search of another husband, Bronte.”

More insults. “You don’t think I could get one?” She was amazed to see a man in Gilly’s kitchen. A man so at home there.

“Easily, for the pleasure of looking at you. But…”

She bristled at what he left unsaid. “Well, you don’t have to worry. Or are you married?”

“Married, no. But I’ve been Best Man.” His eyes swept over her. The high-bred face, so touchingly haughty, the delicate height, the silky masses of her long hair, curling up in the heat, the wonderful colouring. “I’m a committed bachelor at the moment. I have to notch up a few achievements before I’m ready to ask a woman to marry me.”

“Really?” She raised her brows. “I’m surprised you haven’t lots of achievements under your belt already?” The odd part, she actually was.

“I’m sorry the answer’s no. I have a law degree. Not much else.”

“Then why aren’t you practising?”

“I can make a lot more money as an entrepreneur,” he said bluntly.

She found herself pulling a face. “I hate men whose main aim in life is to make money. Seeing you’re so entrepreneurial you might like to make me a cup of tea. Much as I love Gilly I can’t drink her home grown, home roasted coffee. It tastes like the mud at the bottom of the lily pond. By the way, you shouldn’t take the eggs out of the carton. In the carton is the best way to store them not in the egg rack. What happened to Gilly’s chooks?”

He gave a surprisingly graceful shrug of his wide shoulders. “The things one learns!” He started to put the eggs back in the cardboard carton. “The chooks didn’t have much of a show with the snakes. Especially with the chook house fallen down. That’s one of the reasons I and my trusty workers got stuck into cleaning up the grounds.”

“You’re a saint!” said Bronte, giving him a little salute before disappearing down the hallway. “Saint Stephen. I can’t remember what happened to him.”

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