скачать книгу бесплатно
Her Outback Rescuer
Marion Lennox
‘So you won’t kiss me again?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Can I ask why not?’
‘One,’ she said, patience personified, ‘I’m not a one-night stand sort of girl. I may have been desperate enough to lurch in here with my dog and my pyjamas, but I’m still respectable.’
‘Right,’ he said faintly. ‘And two?’
‘Two? Two is that I’m not interested in any sort of relationship. If you’re thinking one kiss could signal the beginning of an affair, even a tiddly, inconspicuous affair, I’ll tell you where to put that as well.’
‘Can I ask why?’ He shouldn’t ask—this was the craziest of conversations—but she had him intrigued.
‘Because even though you’re drop-dead gorgeous, and even though the tabloids have you as billionaire and your grandpa’s heir, and you even say you’re hero material, I’m totally, absolutely not in the market for any sort of relationship. It’s taken me months to persuade Rachel to come away with me. You think two days into our journey I’m going to turn around and say, Sorry, Rachel, go back to your books for a while because I have this hot guy in Car Two?’
‘I understand,’ he said, and he did. But what he didn’t understand was his unfathomable sense of loss.
There was an attraction between them. She’d felt it—she must have felt it. He’d intended that kiss to be fast and hot and to leave her flustered enough to look … well, flustered. What he hadn’t counted on was that it would leave him feeling as he’d intended her to look.
Dear Reader,
This year my husband and I set off on the journey of a lifetime, travelling through the centre of Australia on the legendary Ghan Railway, and then onto a boat at Darwin and around the northern Australian coastline to Broome.
We got on and off train and boat. We climbed crags to see art painted seventeen thousand years ago. We rode camels. We met crocodiles. We poked around on a reef that varies from six metres under water at high tide to four metres above at low tide. We came home gloriously, wondrously happy, and aching to share.
So what better way, I thought, than to create two deserving heroines and send them off on an adventure of their own? Not only could they have the time of their lives, as we did, but they could also chance upon heroes as rugged and tough as the landscape they share.
In this, the first of my two Outback books, Amy and Rachel are sisters in deep trouble, travelling to escape tragedy. Major Hugo Thurston—commando, billionaire, solitary soldier—is about to meet his match.
This is Amy’s story, and it’s set on the Ghan and at Uluru, the very heart of Australia’s Outback. Please forgive any slight adjustments I’ve made to the layout of the Ghan and to its timetable. And note that my imaginary Ghan staff bear no resemblance to any of the real staff, all of whom were and are unfailingly fabulous.
Look out for Rachel’s story to come—watch my website, www.marionlennox.com, for release dates.
Enjoy!
Marion Lennox
About the Author
MARION LENNOX is a country girl, born on an Australian dairy farm. She moved on—mostly because the cows just weren’t interested in her stories! Married to a “very special doctor”, Marion writes for the Mills & Boon
Medical Romance™ and Mills & Boon
Cherish™ lines. (She used a different name for each category for a while—readers looking for her past romance titles should search for author Trisha David as well). She’s now had more than seventy-five romance novels accepted for publication.
In her non-writing life Marion cares for kids, cats, dogs, chooks and goldfish. She travels, she fights her rampant garden (she’s losing) and her house dust (she’s lost). Having spun in circles for the first part of her life, she’s now stepped back from her “other” career, which was teaching statistics at her local university. Finally she’s reprioritised her life, figured what’s important, and discovered the joys of deep baths, romance and chocolate. Preferably all at the same time!
Her Outback
Rescuer
Marion Lennox
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Elizabeth and for Mary Michele.
Without your friendship, laughter and belief,
my stories would never happen.
I love you both.
CHAPTER ONE
THE Structure and History of Granite looked fascinating reading. He could scarcely imagine the plot.
But plots weren’t on Major Hugo Thurston’s current agenda. As an elite commando with the Australian Armed Forces, Hugo was trained to make fast decisions and he made one now. As reading choice for his dinner companion, the book on granite seemed perfect.
Seemed. Make sure. His training said check the whole scene.
The reader wasn’t alone. She was one of a pair, and both women looked less than thirty. This could mean trouble, especially when Maudie was with him.
But, on closer inspection, things looked even more promising. The book held by the second woman was Prehistory in Stone.
‘We’re sitting here,’ he told the waiter, and before Maudie could object, her grandson shepherded her into the seats opposite the two readers. Hopefully they’d keep their noses in their books for the entire meal.
But even if they did, Hugo still didn’t want to be here. He and his grandmother were travelling Platinum Class on the Ghan, the legendary train running through Australia’s vast outback. Platinum service included gourmet meals served in their private sitting room.
But… ‘Why would I want to eat my meals just with you?’ Maudie had demanded.
‘We have massive windows. You can look at the whole Australian outback while we eat.’
‘The dining car has windows, too, and I like meeting people. If your grandfather was here, he’d have taken me to the dining car.’ Maudie had groped for her handkerchief, and so, of course, the thing was decided. To the dining car they went, where tables were filled to capacity—which meant, Platinum Class or not, they had to share.
With Granite and Prehistory.
At least let this meal be better than lunch, he demanded silently of fate. It could hardly be worse. For their first meal on board they’d been stuck with a middle-aged couple who recognised Maud and exuded sympathy as a form of pleasantry.
‘We read about your husband’s death. Oh, you poor thing. But he had such a fabulous life. You can’t really mourn someone so rich who dies so old, can you?’
Then, as Maudie failed to respond, they’d turned to Hugo. ‘And you’re home to take over your grandfather’s company. It’s about time. The gossip magazines have been wondering about you for years. No one’s ever been able to understand why you’ve stayed in the army so long, and in such awful places. And what a waste when you’re so rich…’
He’d wanted to do violence, but his grandmother’s dignity had made him reply in an almost civilised fashion. Maudie had grown quiet with distress but she was one brave lady. She’d returned for dinner, to take another chance.
With Granite and Prehistory.
‘Would it be an imposition if we sat with you?’ Maudie asked the stone women, deferential, even though in the democracy of the train dining room there was no choice.
Granite gazed up from her book. She was in her late twenties, Hugo thought. Her fair hair was hauled into a scrappy bunch of curls which spoke of little effort, and the smile she offered was perfunctory. She looked… absent, he thought, and he wondered if she’d been ill.
‘Hello,’ she said softly. ‘Of course you can sit here; isn’t that right, Amy?’
The woman beside her—Amy?—lowered her book. They looked like sisters, Hugo thought. They were both slight, maybe five feet four or so. Both had soft blonde curls and clear brown eyes. They were both a little too thin.
What was more important than their appearance, though, was that neither looked gushers. Granite was already returning to her book.
The one called Amy, however, seemed slightly more interested. She glanced briefly at Hugo, and then at Maud.
Maud gazed back, eighty-three years old, recently bereaved and obviously anxious. Despite her assumed bravery, Sir James’s death had devastated her, and the ordeal of lunch had left its mark.
Her eyes locked with Amy’s.
Be nice to her, Hugo silently demanded, but he got no further. No silent demands were needed. Prehistory-transformed-into-Amy made her decision and she beamed a welcome.
And that beam…
She was exquisite, Hugo thought, as stunned as if the sun had come out right over their table. She was simply, gloriously lovely.
Granite, the shadowed one, was wearing jeans, sneakers and a plain white shirt. Amy was dressed for comfort as well, but very differently, in black tights, ballet flats and a soft blue oversized sweater. Her hair was looped into an unruly knot, with wispy curls tumbling free. Unlike her sister, she was wearing a little make-up. Her full lips were glossed the palest of pink and there was a touch of sparkle around her eyes.
But with a beam like hers, Hugo decided, Amy didn’t need sparkle. Maudie was returning her smile, and what a smile.
Amy hadn’t smiled at him, he thought.
Um… so what? He was here to keep Maudie happy, and if Amy could do it…
Please don’t gush, he demanded silently of her. Please don’t do the… Oh, you’re Dame Maud Thurston.
She didn’t.
‘Save me from rocks,’ she said simply.
Maudie smiled back. She slipped into the window seat and Hugo sat beside her, but no one was looking at him. Granite was back in her book and Amy had eyes only for Maudie.
‘Rachel thinks I’ll enjoy this journey more if I understand what I’m seeing,’ she said, still beaming her pleasure at Maudie’s arrival. ‘But rocks…’
‘We’re seeing some interesting rocks,’ Maudie ventured, and Hugo saw a hint of a twinkle in his grandmother’s eyes.
A twinkle. That was what he was here for.
His grandmother had planned this journey with his grandfather, had looked forward to it, had persuaded her ailing husband it was just what he needed to restore his health, but tragically James had died four weeks before departure. Maudie had sunk into desolation so deep it scared him, and taking this journey in his grandfather’s stead had seemed as good a way as any to distract her. So far it hadn’t worked. Hugo hadn’t seen Maudie smile for a month, yet here was her smile again, and he felt a knot unravel in his gut that he hadn’t known had been knotted.
All his life he’d tried to stay detached, but right now he wasn’t detached at all. In the face of his grandmother’s grief he was helpless.
‘You’re a dancer,’ she was saying to Amy in tones of discovery, and Amy’s smile faded a little.
‘Um… yes,’ she admitted as Hugo looked on in astonishment. Rather than the woman recognising Maudie, the situation was reversed.
‘Oh, my dear, you’re Amy Cotton.’ Maudie seemed awed. ‘You danced in Giselle last July. We went backstage and were introduced…’
‘I was only in the corps de ballet,’ Amy said, looking flabbergasted. ‘How did you…’
‘I know all our dancers,’ Maudie said. ‘And you’ve danced many more major roles. You used to be…’
‘A long time ago I used to be,’ Amy said flatly, her beam fading to nothing. ‘And now I’m completely retired.’
‘Oh, of course. Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.’ Maudie’s twinkle gave way to distress. She reached across the table and touched Amy’s hand, a fleeting touch of genuine contrition. ‘You know my James died a month ago? Everyone keeps wanting to talk about his death and I hate it, yet here I am, the minute I see you, launching into talk of your retirement. At the level you danced, I know it must hurt almost as much as losing James. I’m so, so sorry. Can we talk about rocks again, or would you like to go back to your book?’
There was a moment’s silence. Granite had looked up from her book and was watching Amy with concern. Not Granite. What had Amy called her? Rachel.
‘You don’t have to read it,’ Rachel ventured. ‘I only suggested it…’
‘As a way to distract you?’ Maudie ventured. ‘Like my grandson keeps telling me to look out of the window. “Look, Gran, there’s a camel,” Hugo says, when all I’m seeing is James. But you know, even if it hurts to think of James—and it does—there’s no way camels work as diversionary tactics. I suspect books on rocks might even be worse.’
Silence.
This could go either way, Hugo thought. They could all retreat and he could have the private lunch he craved, or…
Or maybe he was no longer fussed about a private lunch. Maybe these two had him intrigued.
Danger. One hint of interest, he told himself, and Maud would be away on her favourite pastime. Even his grandfather’s death hadn’t deflected her. These were two young women. Young. Women. Once upon a time Maudie had been fussy about who she threw at him. Now she was growing desperate. Young and women were the only two descriptors she needed, and the fact that Amy danced…
He needed, very carefully, to be uninterested. He needed to shut up and let Maudie do the talking—if Amy and Rachel would let her.
And it seemed they’d relented. Amy’s smile returned, not on full beam, as it had been when welcoming an elderly lady to join her, but neutrally friendly now, treating his grandmother as an equal.
‘I’m a bit touchy,’ she admitted. ‘And I’m sorry. I’ve been retired for three months now—you’d think I’d be over it. But your husband’s death…’ This time it was she who touched Maudie’s hand. ‘Sixty years of marriage to a man such as Sir James… You and your husband have done so much for our world. You can’t imagine how grateful we’ve been, and you can’t imagine how much he’s missed.’
She smiled, then, a smile that was neither ingratiating nor patronising to the old. It was, Hugo thought, just right. ‘I guess we all have to learn to cope with loss,’ she said. She glanced fleetingly at her sister and an expression passed between them Hugo didn’t have a hope of understanding. ‘It never stops being gut-wrenching, but maybe we need to give the occasional rock and camel a chance.’
She glanced out of the window and suddenly her smile returned in full. ‘And speaking of camels… Look!’
And out of the window four wild camels were loping along, keeping pace with the train.
Camels had been brought to Australia in the nineteenth century. Made unnecessary now by modern transport, they’d run wild and thrived in places where no other animal could survive.
‘They’re amazing,’ Amy breathed as she watched the wild young camels race.
‘Fantastic,’ Maudie agreed, finally caught by the camels she’d scorned.
‘They have camel races at Alice Springs,’ Amy said regretfully. ‘But there are no races while we’re there. Rachel says we’ll look at rocks instead.’
This was said with such a tone of martyrdom that Maudie laughed, and Rachel laughed—and even Hugo found himself smiling.
And then he thought: a ballet dancer who made them all smile. Uh oh.
