The Cattle King's Mistress. Emma Darcy

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СКАЧАТЬ liked. But the cool blonde she’d interviewed would let his charm wash over her like water off a duck’s back. Those green eyes of hers had burned with a need to prove something to herself. They were focused inwardly, not outwardly.

      It would be interesting to see if Nathan drew a flicker of awareness from her, Nathan who was what he was and you could like him or not as you pleased. He was a challenge, too. A challenge most women gave up on. Elizabeth didn’t think Miranda Wade was the giving-up type. Even so, the equation still needed the right chemistry, and no one could make that happen.

      Such a capricious element—sexual chemistry—but vital. She could only hope…

      Miranda had seen it from the air this morning—the area comprising the resort and the layout of the cattle station. She hadn’t realised the buildings relating to each business would be entirely separate, the “homestead” at the resort having no connection whatsoever to the family homestead. The former was of very modern design and construction. The latter, as it was approached at ground level, gathered an allure that touched an empty place in her life.

      Deep roots had been put down here, the kind of roots she had never known. Nothing had been fixed or solid in her mother’s life and Miranda had been glad to get out of it, knowing she was an unwelcome reminder of her mother’s mistake, a reminder of her age, too, as well as a resented distraction to the men who’d kept her.

      As soon as she was sixteen, she’d left and had been in live-in hotel positions ever since, not really letting her surroundings touch her. They were simply places that put a roof over her head. She had no sense of home, no sense of family tradition, no sense of belonging to anything except herself.

      It felt strange, coming face-to-face with something so different to her own experience. No modern landscaping here. The trees that had been planted for both shade and ornament were old, the girth of their trunks and the breadth of their branches proclaiming the growth of more years than any one person’s lifetime. The intense entanglement of the multicoloured bougainvillea hedge surrounding the house indicated longevity, as well.

      Like all the buildings on the cattle station, the homestead was white, set off by an expanse of green lawns. However, it sat alone, on a rise above the river, and the verandahs with their ornamentation of cast-iron balustrading and frieze panels, topped by the symmetrical peaks of its roof gave it the appearance of a shining crown on top of all the land it overlooked.

      As Tommy King drove his Jeep up to the front steps, she was prompted by the sheer scale of the house to ask, “When was this built?”

      “Oh, coming up ninety years ago,” he answered with one of his sparkling grins. “One of the first King brothers here—Gerald it was—saw some government official’s home in Queensland and was so impressed with it, he copied the design and had all the materials shipped to Wyndham.”

      Cost no object, Miranda thought, recalling from the book she’d read that the first pioneering King brothers had mined a fortune in gold at Kalgoorlie before taking up this land.

      “It’s very impressive,” she murmured, thinking houses simply weren’t built to such huge proportions any more. Certainly not in suburbia, she amended, smiling ruefully at her limited knowledge.

      “It used to serve many purposes in the old days,” Tommy cheerfully explained. “Everyone lived in and travellers passing through stopped by for days to rest up. Hospitality has always been big in the outback.”

      “I guess it broke the sense of isolation,” Miranda remarked.

      “Well, taking to the air fixes that now,” he answered, his handsome face beaming pleasure in the accessibility he provided.

      She’d learnt he owned and ran an airline company from Kununurra, small plane and helicopter charters making up the bulk of his business, much of which was connected to the resort. Tommy King was a go-getter entrepreneur, with the confidence, likeable personality and gift of the gab that could sell anything. Most of all himself.

      Miranda wasn’t about to buy. The charm came too easily, and while he might be a shrewd businessman and definitely no lightweight for a man only in his early thirties, he had playboy looks; a riot of black curly hair that bobbed endearingly over his forehead, dark dancing eyes inviting flirtatious fun, a face as handsome as sin, and a lean, athletic body exuding charismatic energy and sex appeal.

      She’d been in his company since he’d collected her from Kununurra airport this morning and as an informative guide he was excellent, but she was determined on keeping a very firm personal distance between them. The likes of Tommy King could not tempt her into mixing business with pleasure. She hoped he was getting that message because she certainly didn’t want an awkward situation developing between them.

      “This place is getting to be like a white elephant now,” he commented as he brought the Jeep to a halt. “Wasted…” He shook his head over the wicked shame of it. “Guests would probably give their eye-teeth to stay here, but Nathan just won’t hear of it.” He grimaced, though his dark eyes twinkled cheerfully at her as he added, “Like a brick wall, my brother.”

      Nathan…oldest son of Elizabeth and Lachlan. Just as well she had studied the family tree in the book on King’s Eden. The people she’d met so far assumed she knew these details about the Kings as well as they did.

      “It’s understandable that he prefers privacy for his family,” Miranda said, thinking some things came ahead of turning everything into dollars.

      “If he ever got himself married and had a family, I’d agree,” Tommy shot back at her. “As it is, he’s here by himself most of the time, and that doesn’t look like changing.”

      He alighted from the Jeep, quickly striding around it to open Miranda’s door for her. She had little time to digest this new information. The invitation to dine with the family at the old homestead tonight had seemed to encompass more than the actual reality of one man. Two, counting Tommy.

      “I thought Mrs King lived here, too,” she said as she stepped out of the Jeep.

      “Not on any regular basis. Mum’s fairly tied up in Broome, managing the pearl farm…”

      Pearls…

      He grinned. “…but she flew in yesterday to be on hand to greet you and make sure everything is to your satisfaction.”

      Her inner tension eased. She wouldn’t be the only woman at the dinner table. Elizabeth King would undoubtedly direct the conversation tonight and provide a comfort zone. Miranda smiled. “How kind of her!”

      Tommy laughed. “Mum is a diplomat from way back.”

      They proceeded up the steps, Miranda wondering just how different the two brothers were and how much their mother had to work at welding their separate interests into a reasonably harmonious unit. “Isn’t there a third son?” she asked tentatively, her mind seeing three names listed in print—Nathan, Thomas, Jared.

      But the book on King’s Eden had been written some years ago. She had assumed marriages would have taken place since then. Having been wrong on that score with Tommy and Nathan, and with no mention being made of a younger brother from Tommy, she wondered if something had happened to the third son.

      “Oh, Jared flits around the mining operations and oversees what’s done with the pearls. He’s hardly ever here,” came the offhand reply. “You’ll probably meet him some time or other but not tonight. I think he’s in Hong Kong СКАЧАТЬ