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Heir To Danger
Heir To Danger
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Heir To Danger

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“Quite a few, starting with going to the police.”

“They’d want to return me to Q’aresh for my own safety.”

“They could be right.”

“Without the tape, I may as well marry Jamal here and now.”

Tom didn’t approve, she saw, as his frown deepened and he tightened his grip on the wheel. His sense of justice must be offended, she decided. At least he was on her side. Realistically she couldn’t expect any more from him. If she found herself wanting more, it was her problem.

He drummed on the steering wheel. “Can’t the police get a warrant to search the plane?”

“As a member of our government, Jamal has diplomatic immunity.”

“So we find another way to get it.”

Her eyebrow arched. “We?”

He directed a steely gaze her way. “I told Wandarra I’d take responsibility for you, and I meant it. Whatever happens now, Princess, we’re in this together.”

Chapter 3

What had made him decide to get involved with her? he asked himself. The answer was in her fight with Jamal. Tom knew only too well how it felt to be threatened by someone with all the power on their side. At the very least, he wanted to help her even the odds.

Her beauty and courage had nothing to do with his decision.

Although Des’s homestead was over sixty years old, the Australian sense of irony meant it would be forever referred to as new, he told her as they neared it. The house sprawled across a ridge of grassland between river and rain forest, raised on a raft of concrete beyond the reach of the spreading floodwaters that would come with the monsoon rains of the wet season.

From the moment Des and Fran had taken Tom in, their house had felt welcoming. The only solid walls belonged to the bedrooms and bathrooms. The living areas were soaring, open spaces with vaulted ceilings and insect screens for walls. Translucent shutters could be pulled down over the screens to shield the house during the monsoon rains. A deep veranda shaded the house on all sides.

The room he’d first occupied was on this side, with a view of the McKellar Ranges. The gum tree he’d occasionally climbed down after lights-out leaned more toward the house these days, but was good for another hundred years.

Much as he liked his own home at Halls Creek, this house still gave him a sense of homecoming. Scared as he’d been arriving as a foster child, unmanageable as he’d acted toward Des and Fran Logan, he’d felt safe here. Fran had died from appendicitis six years after Tom arrived, but Des had made it clear the family would stay together no matter what. Tom wanted Shara to feel the same sense of security.

Shara watched Tom’s expression soften as they neared his former home. The palace where Shara had grown up was a low, sprawling complex of rooms opening into one another, with the main building at the heart of a cluster of other buildings. While far from palatial, the Logan homestead was also low and rambling, with the same sense of being the focal point of a small community, although her father’s thoroughbreds lived in more luxury than the Australian family. The Logans’ stock horses were corralled in a fenced yard with only basic amenities, but the sound of them whickering to one another as she passed made her feel homesick.

Accustomed to lavishly maintained homes, she was troubled by the signs of neglect visible everywhere on Diamond Downs. However rich Des Logan was in generosity and compassion, money was evidently in short supply. Shara’s heart ached. She hated adding to the strain on his resources. Her private fortune wouldn’t be hers to control until after she married, but one day she would return Des’s generosity, she promised herself.

At the sound of Tom’s car pulling up, Des appeared on the veranda. In his mid-sixties he was still a handsome man, the gray peppering his hair lending him an air of wisdom.

He was a couple of inches shorter than Tom, she saw when they greeted each other, but the older man had a commanding presence. His face was darkly tanned and creased, but she saw welcome and concern in the blue eyes behind his dark-framed glasses.

If Des was surprised to see her with Tom, he didn’t show it. He looked more alarmed when he saw Shara limping and Tom dragging out a substantial medical kit. From her interactions with Judy, Shara knew you had to be equipped to treat almost any medical emergency yourself in the outback.

“Should I put in a call to the flying doctor?” Des asked as he took them inside.

Tom intercepted Shara’s panicked look. “Not yet. Shara wants me to take care of it.”

Judy appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a towel. She took in the situation at a glance. “Let me. I’m the one with paramedic training.”

As a pilot she would be, Shara thought. Des’s daughter had inherited his perceptive blue eyes, but her coloring was lighter, perhaps from her mother’s side. She was about Shara’s height, with short blond hair, a trim figure and muscular legs shown off by denim cutoffs.

Shara didn’t miss the reluctance with which Tom handed her into Judy’s care, but refused to read anything into it.

Judy took her into the huge, airy bathroom and sat her down on a chair before opening the kit at her feet. “What happened to your leg?”

“I hurt myself while scrambling around a gorge looking at some cave paintings. Tom took care of me,” she said, wondering if he would tell them the rest.

Judy frowned. “Men! Did it occur to Sir Galahad that he might have rolled up your jeans instead of ruining them.”

“He did what he thought was right,” Shara said, referring to more than the clothes.

“He usually does,” Judy agreed, her hands busy. She frowned. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your friend Jamal, does it?”

“I haven’t seen or heard from him since I moved into the cottage.”

“But you expect to.”

She flinched as much at the prospect as at Judy’s ministrations. “He’s not a man who gives up easily.” Like Tom, came the unbidden thought, although Jamal’s motives were purely selfish. “I can’t stay much longer. I’m putting you all in danger from him.”

Judy finished fastening a bandage around Shara’s calf. “You’re not going anywhere just yet. Tom did a good job. The wound is clean and doesn’t need stitches, but it will take a few days to heal.”

She closed the kit and stood up to wash her hands. “You’ll stay to dinner tonight, at least?”

Royal reserve gripped Shara. “I can’t in this condition.”

Understanding lit Judy’s gaze. “Come with me. I’m sure something of mine will fit you.”

Shara felt color seep into her cheeks. “As soon as I’m able, I’ll repay you for all your kindness.”

“Put Jamal out of commission, and your happiness will be payment enough.”

Des waited until the two women disappeared into the bathroom, then turned to Tom. “What really happened out there?”

Tom kept his face blank. “That’s between Shara and me.”

Des glowered. “Look, son, my heart might be defective but my brain isn’t. I won’t be wrapped in cotton wool just because of what some fool doctor told you.”

“He told you the same thing he told me. Too much stress can kill you.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed. “And a transplant won’t?”

“The success rate—”

“Requires some other poor soul to die to give me a chance at life,” Des interrupted, “so I can hardly feel happy about it. Not that there’s any hurry to decide. The doctor reckons my age puts me well down the priority list.”

Judy, Tom and their foster brothers had all tried to convince Des that if he was given a chance at life, he should grab it with both hands. He was still far from convinced. At the thought of being without him, Tom felt a reaction as if someone had kicked him in the gut.

“You sure Shara wasn’t trying to outrun her intended?” Des persisted.

Another kick, this time a little lower down. “What makes you ask?”

“One of Judy’s colleagues told her he flew Jamal’s retinue and a ton of baggage out to the Horvath place yesterday.”

“Jamal came to Australia by private plane. He can’t have been happy leaving his flash plane at Halls Creek airport because Horvath’s runway can’t handle a decent-size aircraft,” Tom said, betraying how much he already knew of Shara’s situation.

Des’s eyebrow lifted, but he let it go. “I told Clive he should do something about that apology for an airstrip. He never listened. Now it’s too late.”

The sadness in Des’s voice betrayed how much he still missed his friend and neighbor. They’d known each other for most of their lives, until Clive was bucked off a horse and killed five months before.

“I don’t suppose Max Horvath will upgrade the airstrip,” Tom commented.

Des’s face twisted. “Max isn’t half the man Clive was. No wonder his father disowned him.”

“I didn’t know he had.”

“He meant to, but changing his will was another thing he never got around to doing.”

Something in his foster father’s voice alerted Tom. “So?”

Des hesitated then said quietly, “You may as well know. Max now holds a mortgage over Diamond Downs.”

“You never mentioned a mortgage before.”

“It was a private arrangement between Clive and me when the medical bills started piling up and the income fell off, to be forgiven in his will.”

“But if he never changed it…”

“Max isn’t likely to. He reckons I convinced his old man to stay on instead of moving into a retirement home. Can you imagine Clive Horvath in a retirement home?”

Tom’s gesture swept the question aside. “How much are we talking about?”

Des named a sum that pulled an oath out of Tom. It was more than he and his foster brothers could put together in a hurry. “You should have told us things were that bad,” he chided.

“You boys have had enough struggle in your lives. I’m supposed to ease your way not complicate it.”

“You haven’t. If Max starts pressuring you for the money…”

“He’s already started.”

“Refer him to Blake or me. It may take time but we’ll find a way to repay him.”

Des shook his head. “He doesn’t want repayment. He wants this land so he can look for my grandpa’s diamond mine.”

Tom and the others had grown up with the legend of Jack Logan’s rich find. The trouble was, Jack had disappeared before revealing the location to anyone. Andy Wandarra’s people were said to know the secret but believed Jack’s spirit haunted the site and refused to speak of it. “Assuming the mine really exists, how does Max expect to find it?” Tom asked.

Des popped the top on a can of beer, ignoring Tom’s automatic frown of disapproval. “Eddy Gilgai works for him now.”

Eddy was a cousin of Andy Wandarra’s and had been on Diamond Downs’s payroll until he was caught stealing. He’d been cautioned several times, including by Tom. When the thieving didn’t stop, Des had no choice but to terminate his employment. Even then, he could have remained on the land, but the clan elders had banished him. Later Tom learned that Eddy had been seeing girls from his clan who were taboo to him under the complex laws governing relationships. “If anyone knows the location and would violate the site, it would be Eddy,” Tom agreed, mentally adding another worry to his growing list. “One problem at a time. Let’s hope Max and Jamal keep each other occupied until Shara’s leg heals.”

Des took a swallow of his beer. “Clive had a contract to supply cattle to King Awad of Q’aresh. As the new owner, Max won’t have any choice but to deliver on it.”

Tom massaged his chin between thumb and finger. “You have to wonder why the king sent someone his daughter warned him wasn’t trustworthy.”

“Maybe that’s why he did it.”

“To get Jamal out of the way, you mean?”

Des nodded. “He couldn’t have known Jamal would drag Shara along with him.”

Thinking of the tape hidden aboard the plane, Tom said, “We have to keep him from finding out she’s here.”

“It won’t be easy. You know how fast news travels in the outback?”

“Only too well.” As a boy, Tom had been the subject of enough gossip to last him a lifetime. Even today, stares occasionally followed his progress down the main street of Halls Creek and murmured voices told each other, “That’s the man who’s father…” His arctic look silenced them at least until he was out of earshot, when no doubt the rest of the story would be poured into eager ears. Gossiping was human nature, but he thought they should have found something else to talk about by now. Evidently they hadn’t.

Tom was right. On Diamond Downs, Shara stuck out like a sore thumb. An idea began to form in his mind of how he could help her, and make amends for hurting her at the same time. He reached for a can of beer and took a thoughtful drink.

“You’re very kind, but I can’t take your things,” Shara insisted as Judy dragged an assortment of clothes out of her closet and dumped them on the bed.

The other woman planted her hands on her hips. “Your clothes are out of reach aboard the plane. You’re going to need a few things to see you through this.”

Her friend was right, but Shara didn’t like admitting it, even to herself.

Judy frowned. “I understand pride. When Tom first came to us, he was a walking mass of it. So stiff-necked, you couldn’t say a word to him without offending him. If he could learn to bend, surely you can, too?”

“I don’t think he bent very far.”

Judy grimaced. “It didn’t take you long to work that out. What happened between you two in that cave?”

Half in and half out of her jeans, Shara tensed. “He took care of me, nothing more.”

Judy made a face. “He must be losing his touch.”

Shara didn’t ask her to elaborate. If by “his touch” Judy meant he was charming to women, Shara had already worked that out for herself. Their first meeting might have been far from romantic, but she couldn’t deny his power-house effect on her. Her grandmother would say he turned her on.

No amount of telling herself she was adrift and vulnerable made any difference. Whatever his true background, he exuded an air of assurance that marked him as a leader, tripping every female hormone she possessed without even trying. She didn’t intend to do anything about it, but she was woman enough to feel the impact.

Careful of her injury, she pulled the ruined jeans off and dropped them on the floor. The black pair Judy proffered were tighter than those Shara normally wore and sat low on her narrow hips. When she zipped them up they fit as if molded to her.

Shara lifted a filmy white top over her head. It settled like a cloud over her shoulders, the soft material drifting down to outline her breasts. The cowl neckline revealed the deep cleft between them. In her country, she would never have worn such revealing clothes. Could she overcome years of conditioning and dress as Judy did so naturally? Yes, she decided with a defiant glance in the mirror. For better or worse she was in Australia. She would do as the Australian women did.

Wanting to earn Tom’s admiration had nothing to do with her decision.

“Take that outfit with you, it looks great,” Judy urged. “You can have the other stuff, too.”

“Won’t you need them yourself?”

Judy glanced at her well-filled closet. “What for?”