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Totally unselfconscious only a few minutes before, now she threw the towel down and made a hasty grab for her shirt, pulling it on but letting it hang loose.
“Hey, Lana—want to organise some morning tea for us?” Kieran called to her in a cajoling voice. “I’ll have a few words with Thommo, then I’ll join you both back at the house. Don’t worry about Dad. He and Buddy are flat out at the Second Paddock.”
“Fine. I’ll wash up first.” She walked towards Guy, while Kieran followed the shearers outside into the sunlit courtyard.
“Morning, Guy,” she managed brightly, although her throat had gone bone-dry. “This is a surprise.” She led him off on the shortest route to the house.
Brilliantly enamelled parrots squawked overhead; and a fresh gust of wind sent spent petals flying from the seductive smelling flowers.
“I wanted to have a word with your father.”
“Oh?” She looked up at him quickly, trying to decipher what lay behind those fathomless dark eyes. He sounded very distant for Guy. Indeed, he looked daunting. His eyes were clouded—but with what? Some strong feeling, that was for sure. It unnerved her. Was it anger that overwhelmed him? If so, about what? She kept her head tilted towards him, feeling enormously heated—and it wasn’t just from her recent physical activity. Emotions were running dangerously high. She had never seen Guy this way. She tried to cover her inner agitation with whatever veneer she could muster. “What about?”
“We want to keep it to ourselves.” His expression lightened, but it still troubled her.
“Now you’ve got me really interested.”
“While keeping you out of the loop?” He gave her a faint sideways smile. “No, it’s just private stuff, Alana. Nothing to worry or concern you.” His glance swept her, increasing her jitters.
She was wearing some light gloss that made her heart-shaped mouth look moist and luscious, Guy thought. He knew there were many young men in the Valley in love with her, his own cousin included, but she wasn’t looking to get rescued from the farm. She loved Briar’s Ridge. She was a true country girl, but just too damned desirable to work with the men.
“Shearing is gruelling work,” he said, hearing it come out a lot more tersely than he’d intended.
“You mean you don’t approve of my taking part?” She stared up at him with a little questioning frown. His attitude had taken her by surprise.
He was silent a moment. “Actually, I don’t. There’s a new fellow on the team. What’s his name?”
She gave a little laugh. “Gosh, you worked that out pretty fast. He’s a New Zealander, and he’s good. Great co-ordination. I can’t remember his name. I think it’s Dean.”
“Then Dean had better keep his eyes off you.”
It was preposterous. He was jealous. “I never thought you so arrogant, Guy Radcliffe!”
His mouth compressed. “It’s not that I’m arrogant. To put it simply, I’m older and wiser than you.”
“Oh, yes! You’re my superior in every way.”
“At various times I might be. You should consider keeping your shirt on around the men.”
She made a sound of intense irritation. “What a sensible suggestion! You’re really jealous, huh?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “No, just concerned. Your father and Kieran can’t keep their eye on you all the time.”
Alana could feel her temper go from simmer to boil. “Gee, Guy, it’s so nice you called in. Don’t you think I can look after myself?”
“Sorry, Alana. You can—better than most. But I wouldn’t like to see anyone bothering you.”
“What would you do?” she challenged, thinking that the elegant Guy Radcliffe, who never raised his voice, wouldn’t be the man to cross. At that very moment the Lord of the Valley looked mighty tough.
He held a bougainvillaea bough freighted with hot pink blossom away from her head. “You’ve seen me cracking a whip haven’t you?” he asked. Whips were used by stockmen to assist in the mustering process. Alana knew better than most that it wasn’t anywhere as easy as it looked. Guy was wonderful to watch.
“I’ve got a big brother, Guy,” she pointed out sweetly.
“I don’t feel in the least brotherly.”
It took a full minute for her to respond. “How about cousinly?” she suggested.
“Not even close. Kieran is enormously protective of you, and he worries when he has to go away.”
It was the truth. “You Valley men are all so old fashioned. Don’t deny it. You are.”
He surprised her by coming to a halt, then turning her towards him. “Men have always been attracted to beautiful women, Alana. Most are civilised and keep their admiration within prescribed bounds. Some don’t.”
Her hazel eyes sparkled as she lifted her chin. “You sound like you want to sack my new man on the spot?”
“I’m going on instinct.” His dark gaze was very serious.
“What was he doing?” She broke away angrily.
“It’s called arousal,” he responded bluntly.
Alan couldn’t control her flush. “Listen, Guy,” she said tightly, “I’m confident I can handle the men, thank you very much. Our regulars wouldn’t let any new man get out of line. Besides, Dad is sober these days. He’s out and about, and Kieran is always around. I have three favourite men in my life. And, no, one of them isn’t you.”
“Lord of the Valley?” he queried, very dryly.
The fact he knew mortified her. “Okay I admit I call you that sometimes.”
“You’ve been calling me that for years,” he jeered softly.
“Be that as it may, my three favourite men are Dad, Kieran and Simon—in that order.”
He didn’t look in the least slighted. In fact he laughed, showing his beautiful even white teeth. “Then, Ms Callaghan, you’re in the best of all possible hands.”
Inside the house, Alana excused herself quickly. “I won’t be more than a few minutes. I’ll just wash up. Go into the living room. Make yourself at home.”
“Is that one of Kieran’s?” Guy made a beeline to the wall hung with a huge, unframed canvas. It was an abstract, yet unmistakably the light-filled Australian bush. It sang of it. It even seemed to smell of it. “Of course it is,” Guy muttered to himself. “Couldn’t be anyone else’s. It’s astonishing! It radiates!” He suddenly wanted to buy it, knowing if he suggested such a thing Kieran would have the painting off the wall in no time, gift-wrapped and delivered to him.
“Tell him that,” Alana called, dashing away.
God knew, Alex had tried often enough to tell him, Guy thought, studying the work of art even more intently. How did Kieran get so much light into it? Annabel Callaghan had not painted, to the best of his knowledge, but she had been a very “arty” woman, enormously gifted at craftwork. One of Annabel’s Denby cousins was a well-known painter, Marcus Denby, who had lived in England for the past thirty years. So it was in the genes, in their nature, Guy thought. Though it was only since his mother’s death that Kieran had found release in these riveting landscapes, “knocked up”—in his own words—in one of the farm sheds. Kieran painted. Alana read books. Alan drank himself to death.
Guy had known Kieran all his life. Kieran was clever, insightful, extremely hard-working but he wasn’t meant to be a sheep farmer. It was at Alex’s instigation that Guy had discovered Kieran Callaghan’s great gift. He simply hadn’t known. But Alex had. He knew Alex and Kieran, remarkably close in their teens, had long since gone their separate ways. Something hadn’t worked out, and he often felt that was a great pity. He had tried at one time to find out what the big rift had been, but both, independently of one another, had let him know he was breaching boundaries. After that he had backed off. Alex had more than her share of admirers anyway. He just hoped she wouldn’t settle for poor old Roger. Roger Westcott was a good man—they had gone to school and university together—but he wanted someone with a lot more going for him for his beautiful, artistic sister.
Guy was still standing in front of the painting when Alana flew down the staircase.
“There—what did I tell you? A few minutes!” she announced breathlessly.
He let his eyes rest on her, aware of a powerful desire to reach for her, fold her in his arms, let what might happen, happen. Instead he said lightly, “You look like you’ve had a shower.” She was wearing different clothes—a red tank top and beige shorts that showed off her long beautiful legs. Her honey-blonde hair was damp, little tendrils curling around her hairline like golden petals.
Her face lit up with a smile so beautiful it took his breath. “Just a quick one. In and out. Come through to the kitchen,” she invited, almost dancing ahead. “You like that painting of Kieran’s, don’t you?” she asked over her shoulder. The delicious scent of boronia wafted to him in her wake. Probably the soap she had used. No wonder that new shearer was drooling over her. Was there ever such a bloom on a woman?
“Kieran might be on the wrong track, sticking to wool production,” he risked saying. “He has it in him to be a very fine artist. To make it his career.”
Alana considered that quietly. “Of course he has,” she agreed, very proud of her brother’s outstanding ability. “Do you think I haven’t told him that? And I’m sure Alex is tired of telling him. I think they had a big bust-up about it.”
“When was this?” He frowned.
She met his eyes. “I have an idea Kieran might have taken to looking in on Alex whenever he’s in Sydney. They could have made up, but if they have he’s not saying. He goes there a lot at the weekends. He was there recently.”
“And he doesn’t tell you if he sees her?” Guy’s frown deepened.
“Kieran plays his cards very close to his chest when it comes to your beautiful sister,” Alana said. “There was a time they were close, but then she moved away, and now Roger Westcott is always in the picture. Alex will never be short of men in love with her. But the specific occasion I’m referring to was last Easter, when we were all in Sydney for the Royal National. They were feinting around one another like a couple of boxers.”
“Don’t they always?” Guy asked laconically. “Over the years both of them seem to have built up an impenetrable wall. Now, can I help you with anything?”
Alana laughed. “Please sit down. I’m not short, but you tower over me.”
“Kieran and I are of a height,” he pointed out reasonably, pulling out a chair. “Your dad is a big man.”
“That’s all very well, but you’re different somehow. Kieran started painting just after Mum died, when the pain was almost too much to bear. He’s very artistic, like Mum. She always used to encourage him with his drawing, from when we were kids. Kieran can draw anything. He’s marvellous with trees. A few strokes and he’s created a whole hillside of eucalypts.”
“Alex is right. He’s brilliant.”
“Hey, I’m right too,” she reminded him, pausing in what she was doing. “I know good art when I see it, thank you, Guy.”
“Of course you do.” His tone soothed. “It’s one of the reasons I admire you. You’re getting to be a woman for all seasons. All of us are right about Kieran, but Alex is the one in an ideal position to help him.”
Alana’s expression was sad. “Kieran doesn’t want to be helped, Guy.”
“What does your dad think?”
Alana set out cups, saucers and plates from her mother’s best Royal Doulton dinner set. This was Guy Radcliffe, after all. “Dad does his best to understand, but he can’t critique Kieran’s work. He can’t relate to abstract depictions. He doesn’t want to see the soul of a tree, or the spirit of the bush. He wants photographic realism. Dad is a bit out of his depth with art. He’d be the first to admit it. What do you want to talk to him about?” She changed the subject to what was really on her mind. “He hasn’t borrowed money off you, has he?” She was very fearful he had.
Guy looked back at her directly. “I thought we’d agreed it was a private matter?”
“You know everything—we’re in a lot of trouble,” she said bitterly.
“If your father needs help, I’ll give it to him,” Guy responded. “Are you going to put the coffee on?” “You’re here to give orders, are you?” “No, only trying to be helpful.”
“Dad has put his whole life into Briar’s Ridge,” she said, doing just as he suggested. “We were doing just fine until Mum died. Since then, of course, Dad has made a few really bad mistakes.”
Guy knew about all of them. “Forgive him for them, Alana. Grief is a terrible thing. The mind doesn’t function as well as it should.”
“I do forgive him,” she said, flashing her beautiful glittery eyes at Guy. “He’s my father. I love him. But Kieran and I know we may be forced to sell if we don’t do well at the coming sales. The two of us have poured so much hard work into the place—” She broke off to look at him. “I had an idea we could do something like Morgan Creek, in the next valley. What do you think?” She had intended talking to Guy about this at some stage—why not now?
“You mean offer day trips to a working station? Show tourists and visitors the ropes, let them learn about our oldest and biggest industry, give them a great barbecue lunch, let them enjoy whip cracking and boomerang-throwing and then send them on their way?”
“I’m ready to try my hand at it.”
“Alana, you’re ready to try your hand at anything,” he said, rather quellingly.
“Like Superwoman?” Her response was sharper than she intended.
“You already work far too hard. Have you given any thought as to how you’re going to fund it?” he challenged.
She gave him a look that was hurt and disgusted. “Guy, we have to fight to save this place.”
He saw behind her aggression to the pain. “Maybe your father has lost the will to fight?” he said gently. “Maybe Kieran would like a crack at another life? And you? What about you, Alana? Are you going to fight to save Briar’s Ridge, and then settle down some place else? You’ll marry. I’d be surprised if you weren’t married by this time next year.”
That made Alana grit her teeth. “Are you nuts?”
He laughed. “I can’t believe someone else hasn’t ever suggested it.”
She waved that fact away. “If you mention Simon, I tell you, you’re on very dangerous ground.”
“In that case I’d better back off. I’m fond of my cousin, Alana, but no way is he a match for you. You like bossing everyone around.”
It took her half a minute to see he was teasing. “I have to confess to bossing Simon,” she said wryly. “But in my own defence I had to do it. If you’re so fond of him, why don’t you get him away from his mother?”
Guy looked back with his usual calm concentration. “Alana, I could get him away from Rebecca—but it would take a miracle to get him away from you. Simon has invested everything in you. I don’t mean this unkindly, but he’s rather like your favourite Border Collie, Monty. He’s one-woman loyal. You’re Simon’s dearest friend, his greatest interest in life—his only love.”
She slumped into the chair opposite him, unaware that the oval neck of her tank top had dipped into her lovely young cleavage. “Once upon a time I would never have believed you. Now I think it’s scary. Simon can’t channel all his love into me. Suppose I fall in love with someone? Suppose Dad has to sell the farm and we have to move away? Suppose I die? People get killed all the time. We know that better than most people. He can’t love me. Besides, his mother wouldn’t stand for it. She’s drilled it into him that she doesn’t even approve of me as a friend. I know she’s a relative of sorts, but she’s a horrible woman. She’s all but broken Simon’s spirit.”
“Then he ought to hit on some motto—like Be A Man. Simon has to develop a little backbone, Alana,” he offered crisply, wondering if Simon had ever worked up enough courage to kiss her.
“That’s all very well for you to say. Simon is scared of his mother.” She hesitated a moment, then soldiered on, “You know Rose quite likes Simon …”
The brackets around his mouth deepened in amusement. “I can see the wheels turning in your golden head. But you can’t play matchmaker.”
“Why don’t you try your hand at it, then?” she shot back. “You’re so highly successful at everything you do.”
“Okay!” He leaned back, considering, linking his strong tanned arms behind his crow-black head. “Why don’t I show a little interest in you?” he suggested.
The expression on Alana’s face abruptly changed. “What? Pretend a romantic in … ter … est?” She stumbled over the word.
“Why make it sound like there’s more chance of getting struck by lightning?” His tone mocked. “Surely it wouldn’t be all that difficult? You’re a smart girl.”
“Men don’t like smart girls,” she said bluntly.
‘Ah, yes, but you’re as beautiful as a dream. That helps.”
Her eyes looked frightened. “Would you like to walk that by me again? I’m beautiful?”
“Would you settle for sexy?”
His gaze tantalised her. “Thanks, but no, thanks, Guy.” She whirled up from her chair. “I’ll do anything in the world for Simon except fall in love with you.”
Kieran was greeted by the incomparable aroma of rich, dark roasted coffee. Alana had made a stack of sandwiches that looked really good, as well as producing a plate of triple chocolate brownies she had made only the night before. Alana was a good cook. Their mother had seen to that. The brownies were a favourite with their father, who nowadays mostly preferred to drink than eat.
