Margaret Way - Six Australian Heroes

She raised her glass and sipped her wine as she looked at him through her lashes. ‘I don’t know. Are we?’

He smiled, that sudden, unexpected smile that wreaked so much havoc. ‘Oh, I think so. I think we rather enjoy it. But war has its other side.’

‘Not in my case,’ she denied.

‘Liar,’ he accused softly and sat back.

She found herself studying the tanned line of his throat revealed by the V-neck of his shirt before she switched her gaze away abruptly. ‘Can we talk about something else?’

‘Sure.’ He shrugged those broad, tantalising shoulders. ‘You choose.’

She hesitated, then, ‘Tell me about your lifestyle.’

‘Well, it’s changed a bit since I took over from my father. I used to spend a lot more time outback—that was the area I concentrated on, but I make a lot of decisions from a boardroom these days. Have you,’ he paused and frowned fleetingly, ‘any position on an outback lifestyle?’

Rhiannon looked startled. ‘Cattle stations? I once spent a wonderful holiday on a cattle station called Beaufort, in the Kimberley. It’s owned and operated by the Constantin family. I had a ball!’

‘I know it,’ he said. ‘Tatiana and Alex Constantin are friends. Of course, he’s into pearls in a big way as well as cattle.’

‘Yes.’ Rhiannon grimaced. ‘My parents gave me a string of their South Sea Pearls for my eighteenth birthday. They were stunning but I had to sell them. That was hard,’ she said ruefully, ‘but I did really enjoy the whole outback experience. Of course, it helps if you ride and I do—What’s wrong?’ she added when she suddenly realised he was studying her rather intently.

‘So you don’t find cattle stations dusty and boring?’

‘Good heavens, no! Mind you, the Kimberley is unique but—why do you ask?’

He took in the genuine enthusiasm in her eyes. ‘No reason. Mary is not a fan.’

Rhiannon rubbed the bridge of her nose, then she said with a wry little chuckle, ‘To be honest, I can’t help feeling a little sorry for Mary even though I’ve never met her. She seems to be up against some rather large odds.’

‘Oh, I think Mary can look after herself in her own way. Incidentally, what exactly did my stepmother say to you today?’

Rhiannon hesitated and thought about declining to be drawn on the subject but she intercepted a narrowed, determined look from Lee Richardson she was learning not to take lightly.

‘She—well, she was obviously in a bit of a temper but the gist of it was that you, particularly, regard her as the wicked stepmother who trapped your father into marriage.’ Rhiannon looked uncomfortable.

‘But that’s not all?’ he said.

‘She did—I think—look, it’s got nothing to do with me,’ she gestured, ‘but maybe she feels she’s entitled to some place at Southall?’

He said nothing, merely stared over her shoulder with his eyes focused on the distance.

Rhiannon drained her wine, fought a small battle with herself, but curiosity got the better of her. ‘What—does she do these days?’

He withdrew his gaze from the distance and it was intensely blue as it rested on her face. ‘When she’s not making mischief? Not much. She flits between the south of France and Australia, but she does believe that Southall should be her home.’

Rhiannon frowned. ‘What kind of mischief? And does she have any basis to believe that?’

‘She’s rather enslaved Mary for her own ends and there’s a slightly awkward clause in my father’s will, granting her residence under certain conditions.’

‘When you say she’s enslaved Mary, what do you mean?’

‘She’s preyed on Mary’s desire to blend her old life with her new one; she’s egging her on, in other words, to persuade Matt to move to Brisbane. Other than that,’ he shrugged, ‘at present, she’s conceived the idea of a memorial service for my father around the anniversary of his death.’

‘Do you regard her—I mean, do you resent her marriage to your father?’ Rhiannon asked.

‘Wouldn’t you in the circumstances? She was half his age, my mother hadn’t been gone that long and she contrived to marry him without Matt or me knowing what was going on.’

Rhiannon blinked, then blinked again. ‘It sounds,’ she grimaced, ‘tricky.’

‘No, it’s not tricky at all,’ he disagreed and the coldest gleam of blue fire lit his eyes for a moment, causing Rhiannon to shiver inwardly.

Then it was gone and he said, ‘Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind an early night?’

Rhiannon glanced at her watch to see that it was nine o’clock. The time had gone fast. She said, ‘You presume right but thanks for dinner—it was probably just what I needed.’

They drove through the wrought-iron gates but Lee slammed on the brakes before they reached the garage.

‘Did you see that?’ he snapped.

‘What? No, I didn’t see anything—hang on,’ she paused as a shrill whinny tore the air, accompanied by pounding hooves, ‘it’s a loose horse by the sound of it.’

‘It’s not a horse, it’s that blasted she-devil of Christy’s impersonating one—she’s got out somehow.’

‘Poppy! But how?’ Rhiannon stopped abruptly as a chorus of barks rent the air.

‘She’s the ultimate escape artist and the dogs are chasing her. They’re all having a fine game, no doubt,’ Lee said grimly.

‘But what about the stable lad and Christy and Cliff? Wouldn’t they—?’

‘The stable lad goes home at night, the dogs are supposed to be patrolling the place and Cliff and Christy go to the club every Saturday night. It’s the night they run chess and Scrabble competitions.’ He got out and slammed the car door and started to whistle.

Two highly excited dogs, the ones she’d seen that morning, streaked through the night towards him, grinning all over their faces.

‘Sit,’ he commanded.

They obliged smartly.

‘You’re safe, Rhiannon,’ Lee called. ‘They’re trained not to attack. OK, guys,’ he added to the dogs, ‘heel! We’ll get you shut up then—Rhiannon, would you mind giving me a hand? Poppy can also be the ultimate vandal when she sets her mind to it. She can actually turn on taps with her teeth.’

‘Certainly.’ Rhiannon stepped out of the car. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s in the vegetable garden as we speak.’

‘Whow! Having turned on a few taps, on the way,’ he cursed as he stepped into a large puddle that shouldn’t have been there. ‘I don’t know why I put up with this blasted horse!’

‘Because you’re rather fond of Christy?’ Rhiannon suggested with a smile.

They discovered how Poppy had got out when they reached the stables. She’d kicked a hole in the lower half of her stall door and somehow scrambled through.

‘You have to give her some marks for sheer ingenuity,’ Rhiannon laughed, although Lee was swearing as he locked up the dogs.

‘OK, let’s arm ourselves.’ He took down two leads and a headstall from hooks on the wall and gathered two biscuits of lucerne hay from the feed room.

As Rhiannon had predicted, they found Poppy in the vegetable garden—where she’d turned on another tap thereby creating something of a quagmire—expertly digging up carrots.

‘Oh, poor Cliff,’ Rhiannon breathed as she summed up the devastation in the moonlight.

‘It might just prompt him to consider getting his daughter a decent, well-mannered horse,’ Lee said caustically. ‘Let’s back her into that corner.’ He pointed. ‘I don’t think she can get through that hedge. Oh, Poppy,’ he called in dulcet, singsong tones as he advanced with his lucerne, ‘if you know what’s good for you, you old witch, you’ll come quietly!’