The Mirrabrook Marriage. Barbara Hannay

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      Ten years. Ouch! It was so scary to think that she’d wasted a decade of her life, from the age of seventeen to twenty-seven—the years when a young woman was supposed to be at her most beautiful and alluring—waiting for Reid McKinnon to come to his senses and acknowledge that he loved her.

      Although…if she was fair and completely honest, she would admit that those ten years hadn’t been a total waste of time…more like a very long, progressively steep learning curve.

      But the end result was her painful realisation that what had begun as a wonderful friendship and had blossomed into a beautiful romance between herself and Reid hadn’t stood the test of time.

      Something had gone wrong. Something irrevocable. Something that seemed to have hurt Reid terribly.

      Whatever had happened, it was so deeply painful that he’d never been able to explain it to her, even though there had been times when she’d been certain he wanted to tell her. She hadn’t pushed him for answers because she’d sensed that challenging him would have made things worse and be distressing for them both. Her strategy had been to accept second best—Reid’s friendship instead of his love—in the hope that he just needed time.

      And here she was, taking part in yet another cattle muster on Southern Cross, simply because Reid had invited her.

      A sudden shout ahead caught her attention. Reid was signalling with a wave of his Akubra hat that it was time to close in on the herd and to keep them compact. This meant that the leading cattle must be within sight of the yards now.

      Panicking cattle often tried to break away as they neared the gate, so it was time to forget her foolish heartache and to concentrate on the job at hand. Time for the cattle dogs to show their mettle, working extra hard as they edged the mob forward.

      Reid would man the gate, while the two ringers positioned themselves on either side. Sarah’s role was to stay at the rear of the herd, ready to round up any breakaways.

      Over the backs of the sea of cattle, she watched the effortless grace with which Reid dismounted, an action as natural as breathing for a man of the outback. Once he was on the ground she could only see a shoulder-high view of him—of his battered Akubra and his blue shirt straining over hard-packed muscles as he tethered his horse. Then she heard the rattle of the gate being opened.

      Keeping her horse on the move, she weaved back and forth, nudging the stragglers to stay with the mob. Only when everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly did she let her thoughts roll forward to what would happen next, after this muster.

      Reid would invite her up to the homestead to join him and the ringers for an evening meal. But should she accept this time as she had every other time?

      It was always pleasant to stop off at the homestead to take a shower and rid herself of layers of dust before heading back into town to her own little house. And it was more than pleasant to spend a couple of hours in Reid’s company, sharing a meal and conversation, a drink or two and a laugh or three. But these days it was bittersweet torment too.

      Surely she’d put herself through that kind of misery one time too many. At some point very soon she would have to—

      A flash of tan to her right cut through her thoughts. A beast had turned and bolted and now others were following. And she’d been caught napping.

      To Sarah’s shame her mount, Jenny, a well-trained stock horse, reacted before she did. Darn. Once again she’d let Reid McKinnon mess with her head and now her pride was at stake. No jillaroo worth her salt let cattle escape at this final stage of a muster.

      Precious seconds late, she pressed her knees into Jenny’s flanks and crouched low in the saddle as the horse took off after the escapees.

      More by good luck than good management she caught up with the leader before the breakaways reached the heavy timbers. Then it was a matter of thinking and acting quickly. Turning her horse in an instant, she drew on all her riding skills to change direction often and fast until at last she’d rounded them up.

      To her relief the cattle gave in and trotted obediently back towards the main mob. And Sarah refused to give Reid McKinnon another moment’s thought until the last beast was fenced in.

      The sun was slipping westward by the time the job was done. The ringers stayed down at the yards, making sure the cattle were calm and, as the last of the coppery light lingered, Sarah and Reid walked the four horses up to the saddling enclosure.

      There they removed the saddles and washed the horses’ backs and gave them a small feed of grain. Sarah concentrated on giving the animals the very best attention and she tried hard not to take any special notice of Reid working nearby.

      Tried not to watch the neat way his well-worn faded jeans hugged his behind as he bent down to examine one of the horses’ shoes. Tried not to steal glimpses of his muscular forearms or his strong tanned hands as they stroked a horse’s neck. Especially, she tried not to remember how those hands had once caressed her intimately, bringing her the piercing sweet pleasure of a lover’s touch.

      No! she chastised herself. She had to get over it and get over him!

      Shaking her head at her own hopelessness, she hurried to stow the saddles in the tack room. Why couldn’t she just accept that Reid wasn’t interested in her?

      For him, their past had never happened; they had never been uninhibited, ecstatic, totally smitten lovers.

      Under the guise of friendship, he’d continued to partner her to local balls and charity dos that raised money for the Flying Doctors, or the School of the Air. Every so often he would amble in to town to buy her a coffee at Beryl’s café, or a drink at the pub. And on odd occasions he called in at her place on the way home from a day’s fishing on the river and delivered a fish or two. He’d even filleted them and cooked them for her.

      And she had been pathetically grateful for whatever crumbs of friendship he threw her way.

      Problem was—and for Sarah it was a huge problem—her major stumbling block—there were other times when she was just as certain that Reid was still attracted to her—deeply.

      There were times when he’d taken her home from a ball or a party and they’d said goodnight and she’d sensed a terrible tension between them. Times when Reid had looked at her—looked at her—with a breath-robbing mixture of despair and longing that was impossible to misinterpret.

      But he hadn’t kissed her. He’d always covered the awkward moment with a joke and then turned quickly and hurried back to his vehicle.

      Those moments had caused her too many sleepless nights.

      Now, as she stepped back through the tack room doorway, Reid turned and he looked straight towards her and he seemed to freeze. He stood rock still in the middle of the yard, staring at her.

      It was happening again.

      That hunger in his eyes wasn’t a fantasy conjured by her overwrought imagination. The feverish heat and dark longing were real. And her poor heart felt as if it had taken off for the moon.

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