A Bride At Birralee. Barbara Hannay

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      Callum had never looked very much like Scott. Where Scott was blond and boyish, full of sunshine and laughter, Callum was darker and older, more stormy and grim. OK…she had to admit he was still good-looking in his own hard way.

      Who was she trying to kid? Callum was incredibly good-looking. Heaven knew, she’d been attracted to him from the very first moment she’d laid eyes on him. But he had a dangerous brand of good looks that fascinated yet unnerved her. There was a magnetic fierceness about Callum that pierced hidden depths in her and threatened her inner peace.

      She’d recognised a perilous intensity in him on the night they’d met…

      Get a grip! You’ll be a complete mess if you think about that now!

      Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to spend too much time around him. She needed inner peace more than ever now. She needed cheering up.

      She needed Scott.

      Where was Scott? Why hadn’t Callum told her straight away where he was? Her stomach churned and her smile was grim as she climbed out of her little car and stretched cramped limbs.

      ‘Do you have much gear?’ Callum asked.

      ‘Just one bag and a bird cage.’

      ‘A bird cage?’ He didn’t try to hide his surprise.

      Her chin lifted. ‘I had to bring my bird. My flatmate’s absolutely hopeless about remembering to change Oscar’s seed or water. Last time I left him with her, the poor darling nearly dehydrated.’

      Carefully, she extracted the cage from the back of her car and eyed his cattle dog warily as she made introductions. ‘This is Oscar.’

      Callum scowled at the little blue budgerigar.

      ‘What’s your dog’s name?’

      Her question seemed to surprise him. ‘Mac,’ he muttered.

      At the sound of his name, Mac’s ears pricked and he sprang to his feet, tail wagging madly.

      ‘Hi, Mac.’ She shot Callum a cautious glance. ‘He doesn’t like to nip at small birds, does he?’

      He cracked a brief smile. ‘He’s a true blue heeler. From when he was a pup he knew that his mission in life was to nip at the heels of cattle. I doubt he’s ever paid any attention to birds.’

      ‘That’s a relief.’

      Callum scruffed the top of the dog’s head. ‘Poor old fella’s retired to home duties these days.’

      Stella saw Callum’s genuine affection for his dog and she felt a tiny bit better. Somehow it helped to know that the grim Callum Roper was as fond of his pet as she was of hers.

      His smile faded as he nodded his head towards the house. ‘You bring the bird cage. I’ll grab your bag.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Reaching back into the car, she fished out her shoes and slipped her feet into them. Then, puzzled and curious, she followed the dog and his master up three wide wooden steps.

      As Callum led her along the veranda, she couldn’t help noticing that he made an art form of the loose-hipped, long-legged saunter of the outback cattleman.

      With an easy dip of one broad shoulder, he pushed a door open. ‘You’ll have to stay here tonight, so you’d better have this room.’ He stepped aside to let her enter, then placed her bag with surprising care on top of a carved sandalwood box at the foot of the bed.

      She dragged her attention from him to the room. It was old-fashioned and simply furnished. There was no personal clutter and it was very clearly a guest room. The floorboards were left uncovered and the big double bed had brass ends and was covered by a patchwork quilt in various shades of green and white.

      On the wall was a painting of a stormy sky and horses galloping down a steep mountainside with their manes and tails flying.

      ‘I’m afraid I’m imposing on your hospitality.’

      He didn’t answer, but his gaze dropped to the bird cage she was still holding.

      ‘I’ll put this out on the veranda,’ she suggested.

      ‘You’d better bring it through to the kitchen. Mac won’t touch it, but if you leave it outside the possums might knock it over during the night.’

      ‘Really?’

      A hint of mischief danced in his eyes. ‘Or a carpet snake might fancy a midnight snack.’

      ‘Oh, no!’ Horrified, she clutched the cage to her. ‘I’d be grateful if he could stay in the kitchen, thank you.’

      Once again, she followed Callum’s long strides. This time down a long hall with polished timber floorboards and rooms opening off its entire length.

      Where was Scott? An uneasy tension coiled in her stomach. She hoped she wasn’t going to be sick. The hardest part of her journey was still ahead of her.

      When she found Scott, not only did she have to tell him he was going to be a father, she had to convince him that the plan she’d agonised over really was the best solution.

      Best for him and the baby and for her.

      It was a straightforward plan. She would resign from her current job, have the baby and then Scott would look after it while she went to London. Luckily the television project was so big that the company did their recruiting well in advance. She was due to give birth several weeks before her contract started and after twelve months she would come back and take over her responsibilities as a mother.

      As she headed down the hall, she prayed that Scott would see the beautiful simplicity and fairness of what she was asking. If only she didn’t feel so scared!

      The rooms she glimpsed as she hurried after Callum were a little shabby, a little untidy, decidedly old-fashioned, but she had an impression of tasteful decor and comfort and an easy, unpretentious air that made them welcoming. Easy to live in.

      Easy and charming like Scott had been. She could imagine him here. But could she imagine leaving his baby here at this house? Could she really leave a tiny baby way out here in the never-never while she spent a year overseas?

      Everything depended on Scott’s reaction.

      And maybe Callum’s.

      They reached the kitchen at the back of the house. It was huge and cluttered and Stella fell in love with it at first sight.

      The reaction was so unexpected. All her life, she’d been walking into other people’s kitchens. There’d been a bewildering series of them during her childhood—dingy council flats, women’s shelters and foster homes. Until she’d moved into the little flat she shared with Lucy, she’d never lived in one place for very long. Their kitchen was neat and trendy, but she’d never felt an immediate rapport with a room the way she did now.

      She loved it. Loved the long wall of deep, timber-framed windows of clear glass with dark green diamond panes in the middle, pushed wide open to catch the breeze. Loved СКАЧАТЬ