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“You’d better go inside and clean up.” She spoke curtly. “You can stay in the guest room next to the bathroom. The room’s always made up and ready—for guests who blow in,” she added deliberately, her eyes telling him that he could blow out again as soon as he liked. “I need to finish up out here. Be in later.” She turned on her heel and headed back the way she’d come, across the yard to the chicken shed.
She would have to prepare Mikey for the shock of meeting an unknown uncle—an uncle who was the spitting image of his dead father. Thank heaven Mikey had stayed out of sight until now. At least she had the chance to warn him.
As Zac strode back to the plane to fetch his bags—mainly photographic equipment, with only a small bag for his few personal belongings—he found himself fighting a gamut of emotions, none of them comforting. He’d hoped to feel nothing at all.
It was a shock to find Rachel still here. He hadn’t really expected to, though deep down he’d wanted her to be here. Wanted and dreaded it at the same time, nagged by an unwanted but overriding need to resolve the torment that had plagued him for the past five years.
He’d tried to erase his memory of her, initially by sheer will and ultimately in the arms of other women—on the rare occasions he’d had the opportunity. But it hadn’t worked. Rachel had haunted his thoughts and dreams in a way no other woman ever had. And it had been hell, because she was married to his brother and the guilt of what he’d done, losing control the way he had, had left a bitter scar in his heart and mind, a scar that, far from disappearing over the years, had grown only deeper.
Even when he’d heard that his brother had been tragically killed and that Rachel was widowed, he’d hesitated to come back. The inexcusable wrong he’d perpetrated on his brother—that he and a passionate, love-starved Rachel had perpetrated together—still tormented him, and he knew it would always be there between them, whatever happened in the future.
Yet he hadn’t been able to stay away. He hadn’t been able to forget the powerful feelings she’d stirred in him, the unbridled passion that had spun him completely out of control for the first and only time in his life. Only by seeing her again would he know if those feelings had been real, or simply magnified in his mind over the years.
As they could have been. It wasn’t every day a beautiful, half-naked woman threw herself at him—especially in his line of work, where he was more likely to be confronted by a hairy, naked gorilla. He was lucky even to see a woman for weeks and months at a time.
Yeah, that was more likely all it had been—a buildup of sexual need, raging, out-of-control hormones and the sweltering heat of that hot summer’s night, as he’d tried to tell a distraught Rachel as soon as reality had hit and they’d both been able to think straight. He’d been trying to convince himself ever since.
He’d had to come back to find out.
His first glimpse of her had blown that convenient theory to bits, proving that the mere sight of her still profoundly affected him, still sent blood racing through him, far hotter and more potent than any feelings of lust he’d had for any other woman.
It was the first time he’d seen her in daylight. Her clear, long-lashed eyes were as blue as a field of corn-flowers, her braided hair a gleam of gold under the hot Queensland sun. He’d found it hard to take his eyes off her, harder still to resist those soft lips, lips he’d tasted once and never forgotten.
So he’d better take care. He’d better take mighty good care, or he’d blow everything, just as he’d done the last time.
Rachel had baked bread that morning and made a large pot of soup, using her own homegrown vegetables and herbs. She hoped that the aroma, as Zac ambled into the kitchen while she was preparing lunch, would turn his thoughts to food and away from his first meeting with—she gulped, refusing to think of Mikey as his son—his nephew, who was already at the table, chomping away at a beef sandwich.
Only she knew the embarrassing truth—her own doctor didn’t even know—so there was no danger of Zac’s finding out unless she showed something in her face, and she’d had years of practice at masking that.
But it wouldn’t be so easy with Zac, because he knew her shameful secret, even if he was ignorant of the consequences, whereas Adrian had never known. Her husband had never even suspected, even when they’d failed to have another child. He’d blamed fatigue or overwork after his long days out on the station or even some medical problem of hers, never imagining that he might be at fault, possibly even infertile, which she’d finally begun to suspect. They’d been married for more than five years and he’d never made her pregnant. Mercifully, he hadn’t known that.
“Take a seat at the table, Zac,” she said, busying herself at the kitchen counter so she wouldn’t have to face him yet. “Help yourself to some bread while I slice some more cold meat and pour you some soup. And say hi to your nephew, Mikey. We named him after Adrian’s father. Well, your father, too, of course. I’ve already told Mikey he has an uncle who looks like his daddy, but forgive him if he stares.”
Oh, heck, she was babbling. She forced herself to slow down. “This is your uncle Zac, Mikey, your daddy’s twin brother,” she said as Mikey gaped at Zac. “If you’re a good boy, Uncle Zac might tell you about the wild animals he photographs in the jungle,” she said to give him something else to think about. Mikey was crazy about animals.
“Have you seen lots of lions and tigers?” Mikey asked in awe, breaking into Zac’s friendly greeting, which to Rachel’s relief sounded perfectly normal and unsuspecting. She relaxed a trifle.
“Yes, lots.”
“Tell me, Uncle Zac. Tell me now.”
With a slow grin, Zac launched into a string of colorful tales of close, dangerous encounters that held the boy spellbound. Rachel relaxed even more. She even felt able to join them at the table, seating herself at the far end to avoid facing Zac.
“I wish I could go hunting lions,” Mikey said as Zac paused to take a few mouthfuls of soup. “I’m going to when I grow up.”
Rachel felt a prickle of alarm. Her son had always had an independent, adventurous spirit—a wild streak, Adrian had often worriedly called it. Mikey was a child with boundless energy, forever getting into mischief—so unlike Adrian, who’d always been the quiet, steady, cautious type, a man who thought things through before taking action. Had Mikey inherited his reckless spirit from his father? His real father?
“I thought you wanted to muster cattle and break in horses?” she reminded her son.
“I want to do that, too,” Mikey said at once. “Can you ride, Uncle Zac?”
“Sure can. I was brought up with horses. Ever ridden a horse yourself?”
Mikey pulled a face. “Not on my own. Daddy wouldn’t let me. He said I’m too little. But I’m not. I’m nearly—”
“Mikey, drink your milk.” Rachel hoped she’d muffled her son’s “four” before Zac could catch it. “Then take this big soup bone out to Buster and check his water. And then you can take him for a run to see Uncle Zac’s plane. Well, it’s not really his own plane, he’s just—”
“Actually, I’m thinking of buying it,” Zac put in, cool as you please.
Her heart stopped. “Why would you want to buy a plane? You work on the other side of the world.”
“It just happens that my next assignment’s here in Australia. The wilds of far-north Queensland and the Northern Territory.” There was a teasing glint in his eye, a roguish look she’d never seen in Adrian’s more serious gray eyes. “I was hoping you might allow me to use Yarrah Downs as my home base.”
“Yeah!” The exultant cry burst from Mikey. “You can teach me how to ride, Uncle Zac. On my own.”
Rachel was glad she was sitting down. A wave of light-headedness was washing over her, making the room spin. She could feel a weakening in her bones, as if they were dissolving.
“You’re going to work here? In Australia?” She tried to take it in and what it could mean. So he hadn’t come back merely to pay his respects to his brother’s widow or to reclaim his old home. He’d come back here to work. How stupid to think he might have wanted to see her. Work always came first with Zac Hammond, Adrian had often said, in the derisive tone he’d used when speaking of his absent brother.
“Yeah…and it’s high time,” Zac drawled, his eyes dwelling on her face for a disconcertingly long moment. “There’s plenty of unusual wildlife in Australia. Much of it highly venomous.” The way his gray eyes glinted made him look highly venomous.
Unlocking her tongue, she asked, “For…for how long?”
“As long as it takes. I don’t have a deadline. I’m my own boss.” Zac let his gaze slide away as he spoke, clearly satisfied that at least he’d given her something to think about.
As long as it takes. Rachel swallowed and pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. Zac’s assignment could take months, even years, if his previous assignments were anything to go by.
And in those months or years, he could turn up at Yarrah Downs at any time, staying just long enough to stir her body and emotions and revive memories she didn’t want revived before disappearing again, leaving her burning and riddled with renewed guilt for still having feelings for her late husband’s twin brother, a man she didn’t admire or respect or even like.
“I’ve finished my milk, Mummy.” Mikey put down his empty mug with a clatter. “Can I take the big bone out to Buster now?”
“Here.” She pushed back her chair and stepped over to the bench. “Give it to him away from the house,” she said as she handed it to him.
“Ta! See you, Uncle Zac!” The kitchen door slammed behind Mikey, rattling the windows.
“Don’t bang the door, Mikey!” she called after him, but it was a halfhearted, affectionate protest. Her son never walked when he could run and never closed doors without banging them. That was just Mikey.
“Fine boy you have there, Rachel,” Zac commented as she turned back to the table. “The image of his father. And his uncle, come to that.”
Her heart missed a beat. With effort she managed to find her voice. “Yes, Adrian was chuffed that his son looked so much like him. He adored Mikey.” Adored and despaired of him, convinced that his son’s exuberance would lead him to disaster one day.
“Seems to have plenty of energy. How old is he? I can never tell with kids.”
This time her heart stopped altogether. “Three,” she said, gathering plates and swinging away from the table to avoid looking at him. No need to mention that Mikey would be four in three days. By then Zac would be gone. Back to his solitary life among the wild animals and birds that meant more to him than any home or human being ever had or ever could.
He would be gone by then, wouldn’t he? Put me up for a night or two, he’d said. Not three nights.
“When do you start your assignment?” she asked. “Tomorrow? The next day?” After that, hopefully, she’d have some breathing space. She mustn’t panic! She’d rarely see him while he was working here in Australia, in the wilds of the far north. He only wanted to use his old home as a base. What his fleeting visits would do to her she refused to think about.
“The starting date will be up to me—or maybe you.” Zac reached for another slice of bread. “I’d just like to draw breath here for a few days first, maybe help you out a bit…”
A few days now, not just one or two! She felt her stomach knot as she realized that the longer Zac stayed, the more likely he’d be to find out that Mikey was four, not three, as she’d let him think.
But that still needn’t mean he’d suspect the humiliating truth. For all Zac knew, her husband could have made her pregnant at around the same time as Zac’s brief, ignominious visit.
Zac need never know that Adrian had been rushed to a hospital with acute appendicitis the day after Zac’s late-night visit, and that he’d caught an infection and hadn’t felt up to having sex for a month after he’d come home—by which time she’d known she was already pregnant. She’d delayed telling Adrian and been deliberately vague about the due date, hoping that her first baby would arrive late, which Mikey conveniently had.
Adrian had never suspected the mortifying truth, and Zac mustn’t, either. It was inconceivable to think of Zac Hammond, the irresponsible, unprincipled black sheep of the family, as Mikey’s father. Adrian had been the reliable, steady, home-loving brother, the kind of man any woman would have been proud to have as the father of her child. At least—
“Tell me what happened, Rachel.” Zac’s voice intruded, softly compelling.
“Happened?” Her throat tightened. Did he mean four years and nine and a half months ago, after she’d ordered him to leave Yarrah Downs and never come back? She could still remember Zac’s cold, flat words as she’d turned away from him before he could glimpse any other emotion in her eyes than anger—anguish, yearning or even regret. I’ll stay out of your life, Rachel, you can count on that. You and your husband have nothing to fear from me.
“All I’ve heard is that he was killed in a tractor accident.” Zac spoke gently, jolting her back to reality. He must have assumed, by her choked silence, that she was thinking of her late husband, not, thankfully, of him. “How the hell could that have happened? Adrian was the most safety-conscious man I ever knew. He never took risks.”
Rachel’s heart settled back into place. Of course Zac would want to know about her husband’s fatal accident. He was Adrian’s twin, after all.
“Not normally, no,” she agreed. She’d often wondered if Adrian had had something on his mind that day, some niggling doubt about what he was about to do that had diverted his attention for a fatal second. A second was all it had taken.
“He’d hired a bulldozer—it wasn’t a tractor—and had taken it up to Bushy Hill to do some work there. Apparently he was working on the steep lower slope of the hill when the bulldozer hit a huge wombat hole and tipped over. He was thrown out and…and crushed.” Cute and furry as the burrowing native wombats were, they did a lot of damage with their holes.
“What was he doing up at Bushy Hill with a bulldozer?” Zac was frowning, she noticed. He looked more angry than pained or sympathetic. “It’s supposed to be an animal and bird sanctuary and to be left untouched, in its natural state.”
She raised her brows. She’d known there was a lot of native wildlife in the thick scrub and eucalyptus forest of the big sloping hill, but a sanctuary? This was the first she’d heard of it. All she knew was that kangaroos and other animals had a habit of jumping or climbing under the fence skirting the cattle paddock below to drink at the small dam there, and that Adrian had been forever mending the fence.
“Adrian wanted to turn the hill into a vineyard,” she told Zac. “He said it was ideally positioned to grow vines—facing the right way and that kind of thing. He’d gone up there to start clearing the trees and undergrowth—”
“He intended to turn Bushy Hill into a vineyard?” Zac’s expression turned thunderous. “Our father made it quite clear to us that the hill was to be left as an animal and bird sanctuary. How much bush had Adrian cleared before his accident? Had he knocked down any trees? Have you gone ahead with it?”
She bristled. What right had Zac Hammond to come back after all these years and start bawling her out for something that was no business of his? He’d never even been interested in the family property, according to Adrian.
“No, I haven’t.” She snatched up Zac’s empty plate and whisked it away without asking if he wanted more. “Nobody’s touched the hill since. We couldn’t afford to, for a start—”
“You’re saying you still intend to go ahead with the vineyard when you can afford it?”
She glowered at him. “I didn’t know it was a sanctuary…or that it was meant to be kept as a sanctuary. Naturally, if that’s true—”
“Adrian never told you?”
She clamped her lips together. It didn’t feel right to be talking about her husband’s failings when he was no longer here to defend himself.
Zac swore softly. “I’ll need to see how much damage has been done. If he’s destroyed that hill and driven the birds and animals out…”
“What do you care about Yarrah Downs or what we do with the place?” she flung back. “Adrian said you couldn’t get away from here fast enough.”
Zac shrugged, drawing her reluctant gaze to the breadth of his shoulders. The same shoulders she’d once kneaded with feverish fingers and dug her fingernails into with frenzied yearning. She flinched and snapped her gaze away.
“Yarrah Downs couldn’t have two bosses,” he said mildly. “Especially two bosses who disagreed on most things. My father left the property to Adrian because being a cattleman was all he’d ever wanted to be, while I wanted to see and do other things before I thought of settling down in one place. And my brother was good at his job. He had the skill and experience a cattleman needs, even if he lacked judgment in certain areas.”
“While you were never interested!”
“Not true. I lived here for most of my life. I spent my childhood here and all my vacations. It was only when my father died and left the property to Adrian that I stopped coming back—except for that one time, a few months after he married you. He’d written to tell me about the happy event. It seemed a good time to finally shake hands and let bygones be bygones.”
His eyes caught hers and she flushed, remembering his short-lived visit five years ago. What had happened between them had put an abrupt halt to any happy brotherly reunion. And she couldn’t put all the blame on Zac. She’d virtually seduced him!
To cover her embarrassment she blurted, “You must have resented the fact that Adrian inherited everything. Is that why you’ve always been so jealous of your brother and so hostile toward him?”
“Where did you get that idea? From Adrian? I was never jealous of him. We just didn’t get on. Too different. Chalk and cheese. I assure you I haven’t been seething with resentment all these years. I didn’t miss out. My father left me a generous cash pay-out and a bundle of blue-chip stock that’s grown over the years. I’ve also made a lot of money from documentary films and feature articles. I can afford to help you, Rachel.”
Her eyes sparked. “To help Yarrah Downs, your old home, don’t you mean? You don’t want to see it go under, and you think it will, now that I’m in charge. A woman! What’s your secret agenda, Zac Hammond? Are you trying to sweeten me up so you can buy me out if I sell, like everyone expects? Though why you’d want the place…”
Her voice trailed off as she became aware of a dog barking outside. “It’s Buster,” she said, glad of the diversion. “Mikey must be back. Excuse me… I have things to do out in the yard.”
“I’ll come out with you. Mind if I borrow a motorbike, Rachel?”
She paused, frowning. “What for?” Did he want to check up on the state of the cattle and the paddocks to see what a mess she was making of the place? So he could criticize her some more, undermine her confidence some more?
“I want to see what damage has been done to Bushy Hill and if there’s anything I can do to salvage it.”
“Anything you can do?” She tried to sound withering—what right had he?—but how could she blame him for wanting to check? This had been his home once and the animal and bird sanctuary clearly meant a lot to him. And if his father had specified that it be kept as a reserve…
Funny that Adrian had never mentioned it. Had he thought she might try to stop him from planting his vineyard there? She probably would have tried if she’d known about the sanctuary. The thought of her husband keeping things from her was sobering. But hadn’t she kept far worse secrets from him?
She hadn’t been back to Bushy Hill since Adrian’s fatal accident. She wasn’t sure how much clearing her husband had done. She’d simply told Vince to stay away from the hill until she decided what to do with it. They had more-urgent priorities. But the truth was, to have squashed the idea of the vineyard outright would have felt like crushing Adrian’s dream.
Only now that she knew the facts…
“Quiet, Buster!” she shouted over the dog’s barking, wondering why he was making such a din. What was Mikey doing to him?
But when she stepped outside, Mikey was nowhere in sight. The yard was empty. “Where’s Mikey?” she cried as Buster’s barking grew even more frenzied at the sight of her. He started to run off, then wheeled back, whining and pawing at her, before scampering off again.
She got the message and broke into a run. “Something’s happened to Mikey!” The words whipped over her shoulder at Zac. “Find him, Buster!” she urged the cattle dog. “Take me to Mikey!”
Chapter Two
As she rushed across the yard in Buster’s wake, she heard faint screams—a child’s petrified screams.
“Mikey!” she cried out. Where was he?
She faltered, her blood running cold. Ahead, down past the sheds, stood the big windmill, its glinting blades whirling in the warm May breeze. A small dark shape was huddled way up near the top, crouched on the uppermost rung of the narrow steel ladder, dangerously close to the rotating blades.
Oh, dear God. Mikey!
She felt Zac’s hand on her arm, steadying her, his touch, even in her panicked state, bringing a tingling heat to her skin.
“Try to be calm,” he rasped in her ear. “Don’t let him see how scared you are. You don’t want him to panic.”
Biting down on her lip, she covered the remaining ground at a sprint, managing not to scream at the terrified boy. Buster reached the windmill first, his barking giving way to whimpers and whines as he circled the foot of the steel ladder.
