The Cattle King's Mistress (10 page)

Clean and fresh again, Miranda turned off the taps and quickly towelled herself dry. A nervous energy possessed her as she attended to her hair and make-up. Had Nathan left, having made his arrangements for tomorrow? Did those arrangements mean more than fixing the problem with Bobby?

She wrapped a towel around herself before emerging from the bathroom. Modesty, at this point, seemed rather foolish but she didn’t feel comfortable flaunting her naked body with the heat of passion gone, and if Nathan was still in the apartment...this was so
new.
Her mind was torn over how he viewed the intimacy they had just shared. She wanted to be sure.

He was fully dressed and placing the parcel of diaries he’d brought her on the bedside table when she opened the bathroom door. He swung to face her, his gaze making a swift, comprehensive sweep of her appearance.

“Are you all right?” he asked, searching her eyes for any flicker of concern.

“Yes.” She offered an ironic smile. “A little stunned.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think of protection.”

Relief surged through her. It might be practical caring but it
was
caring. “I’ve been on the pill for quite a while. I used to have problems with...” She shrugged, realising she was gabbling and he wouldn’t be interested in how heavily and haphazardly she’d menstruated without medication to give her a normal cycle.

He returned her ironic smile. “I’m usually more responsible. I’m not a health risk, Miranda.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

Supposedly not for two healthy adult people accepting a simple case of lust gone wild, Miranda thought, needing more from him than this matter-of-fact manner. He started walking towards her and she was once again mesmerised by the overwhelming power of the man, his air of solid self-assurance.

“I’ll go now. You have work to do.” He put his hand on her shoulder, a light reassuring touch, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Just to remind you to keep
us
in the forefront of your mind tomorrow, when Bobby Hewson arrives.” His eyes seared hers with the intense recollection of their intimacy. “Expect me at six o’clock. I’ll be here to stand by you. Okay?”

“Yes.” Was this all it was to him...blotting out Bobby? “Thank you,” she added, searching his eyes for more.

He suddenly grinned. “My pleasure.”

She watched him leave, too captivated by his presence to move until the door closed behind him. Then conscience pricked her again and she flew to her cupboard, discarding the towel and hastily pulling on clothes.

Nathan’s words—
I’ll be here to stand by you
—lingered in her mind. Bobby had never done that, not in the supportive sense Nathan meant. Her mother had never had a man she could truly lean on. It was, at least, one good feeling Nathan had left her with, being able to count on him, and Miranda had no doubt he was as good as his word.

But what about when Bobby was gone? Was she to be another Susan in Nathan’s life? His
...pleasure?

Miranda shied away from these questions. She couldn’t deal with them now. She had guests waiting for her. Everything else had to be pushed aside. Tomorrow would come soon enough... Bobby... Nathan...and hopefully some answers she could live with.

It was
her job to greet the incoming homestead guests, and greet them she would, but Miranda’s stomach was twisted into a painful knot as she watched Bobby Hewson and his new wife arrive.

He alighted from the luggage buggy first, still looking like a sun-king as she had always thought of him— his light brown hair streaked with blonde, his skin gleaming with a perfect golden tan, a dazzling white smile flashing from a face so handsome it was guaranteed to make any woman melt. But it didn’t melt Miranda today. It was a strange shaky feeling, seeing him again and knowing the brilliant facade of the man hid a corrupt heart that could never, never be trusted.

“Miranda...” he called, as though the sight of her filled him with delight. “It’s a real pleasure to find a familiar face in the great beyond.”

His charm washed over her, too, though once it had invariably turned her inside out, dispelling doubts and making her believe he really did love her, that she was truly the light of his life. This time, her mouth didn’t automatically flash a responding smile. She had to force it.

“It’s a surprise to see you out of the city, Bobby.”

He still managed to look city elegant in shorts and sports shirt, colour co-ordinated in navy, red and green, expensive Reeboks on his feet. His tall, gym-trained athletic body carried all clothes well.

“A new challenge always lifts the spirit,” he answered, his eyes raking Miranda from head to toe with sexual intent, even as he held out his hand to the woman now stepping out of the buggy.

Inwardly bristling at Bobby’s blatant cockiness, Miranda switched her attention to his wife. Her skin was dark olive, making her look quite exotic, dressed as she was in scarlet shorts, a designer T-shirt—white, splashed with an abstract pattern of colourful poppies—and a very chic straw hat with one scarlet poppy artfully placed on the brim. She was also petite, her figure slender, almost boyish, small firm breasts clearly braless.

Miranda, dressed in her usual day uniform of khaki safari shorts and shirt, suddenly felt like a drab Amazon compared to this woman, but she quickly brushed the comparison aside. She was not in competition with Bobby Hewson’s wife and never would be.

Keeping her smile in place, she said, “And you must be Celine. Welcome to King’s Eden, both of you.”

“Thank you. It is amazing, this outback of yours,” she lilted at Miranda, her native French tongue giving her English a very attractive accent. “Very much an exciting adventure.”

“I hope it continues to be so,” Miranda replied, noting that Celine led the way up the path to the verandah, Bobby strolling a step behind. Detaching himself from his wife?

“Did you manage to make all the bookings I phoned through this morning?’’ Celine asked eagerly.

“Yes, everything has been arranged,” Miranda affirmed.

“Even the boat ride down Granny Gorge this afternoon?”

“The guide will be here by the time you’ve checked into your suite.”

She clapped her hands in glee. “I did not want these few hours wasted.”

Close up, Celine was younger than Miranda had imagined. She barely looked out of her teens, her pretty face framed by short black hair styled in a pixie cut, and dominated by big dark eyes, aglow with enthusiasm.

“I think I’ll give the gorge a miss, Celine,” Bobby dropped casually as they mounted the steps to the verandah.

“But I’ve booked!” she protested, her face petulant with displeasure as she turned to him.

“You can go, pet,” he answered indulgently. “I’d like to have a look around the resort. See how it works.”

“Business!” She heaved a vexed sigh.

He ignored it, looking over her shoulder at Miranda, his amber eyes gleaming tigerishly. “I’d like a personal tour, Miranda.”

With her,
he meant, and every fighting instinct rose to the fore. He was not going to get at her. She would not let him. “As you like. I’ll call a guide to come and show you what you want to see.”

“Come now, Miranda,” he cajoled, steering his wife onto the verandah so that he could step up for a direct confrontation, his body language emitting confident demand. “Don’t I merit
you
as my guide?”

She tried to construct an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not free this afternoon.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could delegate your responsibilities.”

“This isn’t a big city hotel, Bobby, and doesn’t run like one,” she explained reasonably. “All my staff have very specific responsibilities...”

“And I have a special request which I have no doubt your employers would understand and appreciate,” he cut in, his eyes as hard as gold nuggets.

The threat of blackmail had no teeth here, yet the vindictive ego behind it caused her heart to contract. The thought of Nathan standing by her gave her the courage to defy any pressure to fall in with Bobby Hewson’s will.

“I can provide a guide,” Miranda repeated firmly. “However, if you wish to arrange something with the King family, I believe Nathan King will be here this evening.”

And he won’t bend to your will, either,
she thought with savage satisfaction.

“Ah! So you can leave this business until then, Bobby.” Celine jumped in, curling her arm around his and pouting up at him. “I want you with me.”

“Well, if it’s important to you, pet...” He patted his wife’s hand, smiled at her, but there was no smile in the eyes he turned back to Miranda. They glittered with the promise of getting what he wanted, one way or another. “I shall look forward to meeting Nathan King tonight.”

“Guests usually gather around the bar from six o’clock onwards for pre-dinner drinks,” she informed them, then stood back to make way for the porter, a cheerful American lad who was working his way around Australia. “The Shiralee Suite, Eddie. The key is in the door.”

“Yes, ma’am. If you’ll follow me, folks.”

A Jeep zoomed up to the homestead.

“There’s your guide for the gorge trip,” Miranda pointed out. “When you’re ready...”

“We will not be long,” Celine assured her, pulling Bobby with her in her zest to be off sight-seeing.

Miranda watched them follow their luggage inside, thinking Bobby’s wife had no idea what she had married. Or maybe she did and was happy to go along with what he gave her anyway. She herself might have remained indefinitely in his charm-web if this marriage hadn’t come up. It was a sickening thought.

As it was, her pulse was still galloping from the stressful encounter. She took a deep breath and headed down the path to give instructions to the guide in the Jeep. He could wait inside for the Hewsons. She didn’t want to see them again until she had to. Hopefully Nathan would be with her by then.

Nathan...

As the afternoon wore on into early evening, her confidence in his support started wavering. Could she really trust her instincts about the kind of man Nathan was when she’d been so fooled by Bobby for three whole years?

He was different, she argued. He
felt
different. And he didn’t emit a glamorous facade. There was nothing ephemeral about him, more solid substance that wasn’t going to change. Or was that hope, more than reality?

Bobby could influence and manipulate people. He would not be so blatant in showing Nathan the ruthless dismissal of anything that stood in his way. He would appeal as to a peer who understood how the world really worked, man to man. And he would slyly undermine her credibility, dressing up lies with half-truths, perhaps even suggesting she had slept her way up in the trade.

Would Nathan still take her side against such supposedly confidential and authoritative information? What did he really know of her, apart from the little she’d told him?

Even if he did take her side, how could she be sure he was doing it because he believed her, or because he wanted to keep having sex with her?

And that was the most unsettling thought of all.

Ten
past six.

And Nathan wasn’t here!

Miranda had finished introducing the Hewsons to the other new guests who had arrived before lunch, as well as suffered Bobby’s smarmy hug of familiarity as he confided their former professional connection to the group. Her skin was still prickling with revulsion as she escaped his stroking fingers with the excuse of fetching a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

A mistake to have worn this dress. Its shoe-string straps left too much flesh exposed for wandering hands. She’d chosen it because it was a bright lemon colour and she had matching sandals and the outfit had always made her feel upbeat and confident. Tonight she needed all the confidence she could get.

And she had wanted to look good for Nathan!

Was it another mistake to count on him?

She was half-way to the bar to put in a call to the kitchen when she heard a vehicle pulling up outside. Not the sound of one of the resort Jeeps. A more powerful engine. Her heart did a flip and a heady mixture of hope and relief surged through her. It had to be Nathan arriving!

Forgetting the hors d’oeuvres, she did an about-turn and headed for the doors to the front verandah, her pulse skipping erratically. She wanted him. She needed him. Doubts about his motives were momentarily blotted out. The doors in front of her opened automatically to her approach. In a few blurred seconds she was at the head of the steps to the verandah, and there her swiftly moving feet came to a halt.

It
was
him.

He was rounding the bonnet of a Land Cruiser, his big solid frame silhouetted against the sunset. He paused as he caught sight of her waiting to welcome him, and her heart hammered wildly at the strong visual image of him, stamped on the vibrant colours of the outback sky—long horizontal streaks of yellow behind the black spindly trees on the flat horizon, red and purple clouds clustered above them—and this man... this man looking like a lord of it all, whom nature itself was glorifying.

Then he was striding up the path and the very same skin that had crawled at Bobby’s touch started tingling as Nathan’s, electric energy poured towards her. A quiver ran down her thighs. Her toes curled. Her mind throbbed his name over and over...Nathan, Nathan, Nathan...

She didn’t hear the doors slide open behind her.

But she heard the voice and the slimy confidence in it as it said, “Ah! Mr King arriving?” and her heart froze as Bobby Hewson stepped up beside her, once again hanging his arm around her shoulders in an insidious claim of ownership, right in front of Nathan!

The shock of it completely paralysed her. She saw Nathan’s step slow, his gaze dart from her to Bobby and back to her, and her mind jammed in horror at what he might be reading from Bobby’s action.

“Good evening, Miranda,” he greeted her coolly as he came to the end of the path.

His coolness jolted her tongue loose. “I expected you earlier, Nathan,” she snapped, hating the situation his tardiness had set up.

Suddenly goaded into not caring how it looked, she spun out of Bobby’s hug and stepped aside, throwing out one hand in formal introduction. “This is one of our guests, Bobby Hewson...Nathan King. Bobby has expressed a wish to discuss resort business with you, Nathan. If you’ll both excuse me, I have other guests to see to.”

She left them to it, her whole body seething with furious emotion. Let them have their man-to-man chat, her mind raged. Let Bobby do his worst behind her back. Let Nathan believe whatever he liked of her. She’d steel herself with all the armour she could summon so that neither man could touch her. It was stupid, stupid, stupid, to count on anyone to do right by her! Especially men who just wanted to feather their beds with a woman they fancied.

Terry, one of the waiters, was serving a selection of hors d’oeuvres to the guests. Bobby’s wife was gaily chatting to another couple who had been to Granny Gorge that afternoon, displaying no disturbance of mind over her straying husband, not even a questioning glance at Miranda as she rejoined the group. But Celine’s gaze did snap to Nathan when Bobby escorted him inside.

“Ooooh...magnifique!”‘
she breathed in girlish awe, and Miranda sourly thought Nathan undoubtedly had the same effect on every woman. He wasn’t only special to her.

Nevertheless, despite his drawing the attention of the whole group, it was she he looked at, his gaze boring straight through her defences, shaking her up again, even as she glared back at him, telling herself she wouldn’t let him mean anything to her.

Bobby was talking at him in a confidential manner. There was no discernible response on Nathan’s face. As they came within easy earshot, Nathan turned to him and said very clearly, “You have the wrong man. This resort is the business of my brother Tommy, and he’s happy to leave its management in Miranda’s very capable hands.”

So Bobby was already trying to go over her head, Miranda surmised, though Nathan
was
the wrong man for that, which meant he’d try Tommy next.

Bobby frowned. “Surely you network.”

“As a family, yes. But none of us interfere with each other’s areas of special interests.” His face took on a hard arrogance as he pre-empted any reply from Bobby. “Though perhaps I should add that the whole family would swing in to protect any of our interests should they be threatened.” His gaze cut straight to Miranda. “We look after our own in the Kimberly.”

She was instantly thrown into more turmoil. Did he consider her
his?
Was he promising she was safe from Bobby, regardless of anything the man said to anyone?

“You’re one of the Kings?” another male guest queried, obviously fascinated by this exchange.

Nathan swung to him with a little smile of acknowledgement. “Yes. Nathan King. The cattle station is my business. And you are...?”

A flurry of introductions and handshakes followed. A keen curiosity about the running of a cattle station prompted several questions at once.

“Well, one requisite is being ready to cope with any emergency,” Nathan answered. “This afternoon one of my stockmen was thrown from his horse and it looks as though his back may be broken.”

Expressions of dismay and sympathy rippled around the guests. Miranda frowned. Was this the cause of his late arrival? “Calling an ambulance is not an option out here,” he went on. “Under instructions from the flying doctor service, we trucked him in to the station airstrip, loaded him into a plane and flew him off to hospital.”

“Any news of him yet?” Miranda asked, guilty about her own selfish concerns when one of Nathan’s men might well be fighting for his life.

“No.” His vivid blue eyes targeted her. “It was five-thirty by the time we had him safely on his way. I’ve arranged to be called here when information comes in.”

“Of course,” she said quickly. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes.” He nodded towards the bar. “Shall I help myself?”

The bar attendant was on his way to the group with a tray of cocktails.

“I’ll make you whatever drink you’d like,” she offered, hoping to have a few private moments with him.

“Thank you,” he returned drily, as though no longer expecting anything from her.

Which made Miranda burn with more uncertainties.

As they both moved towards the bar, Celine called, “Bobby, why is it called a cattle station instead of a ranch?”

Miranda silently blessed the claim for her husband’s attention.

“Probably because they use huge road-trains, up to fifty metres long, to take the stock to market,” someone else answered.

“Yes, and it’s best to get off the road if you see one coming,” another guest chimed in, proceeding to recount his experience of road-trains, which occupied everyone else’s attention.

A lively distraction from the injured stockman, Miranda thought, then reflected that it might have been Nathan thrown from his horse...and how would she have felt then? Even in her current state of violent confusion, he tugged at something vital in her.

“I’m sorry...about the stockman,” she blurted.
And for her rude greeting,
though she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you on time,” he returned quietly, causing her more inner writhing.

“The injured man was more important,” she asserted.

“Sometimes there are injuries that aren’t so easily visible.”

Miranda’s heart contracted. Was he talking about her? Himself? Bobby? She shot him a questioning glance as she rounded the bar to serve him. “What would you like?’’

His eyes beamed back commanding authority. “I’d like you to seat me at the end of the dinner table with Bobby and Celine Hewson on either side of me. Right now I’ll have a whisky. No ice.”

She reached for the bottle of whisky, her hands trembling a little, her mind filling with the kind of poison Bobby would pour into Nathan’s ear. “Why do you want to be placed there?” she asked, as she managed to pour his drink.

“I’d also like
you
to be seated at the other end of the table, right away from him.”

Right away from Nathan, too. She wouldn’t be able to hear what was going on between the two men. Which wasn’t fair! How could she defend herself? She handed him the glass of whisky, hating the sense of having no control over the situation.

“What if I don’t want that?” she challenged.

His eyes glittered with what looked like contempt. “You like him pawing you?”

“No!” she cried, shrivelling under the implication.

“You want to hear how much he still wants you?”

“You know I don’t!”

“Do I, Miranda?’’ He took a sip of his drink, his eyes savagely deriding her contention. “I know nothing of what’s gone on between you since he’s arrived. All I know is you cut me dead out on the verandah.”

“Nothing’s
gone on!”
she hissed. “And I was upset by that little tableau Bobby put on for you when you arrived.”

“Running away didn’t resolve anything.”

“Perhaps I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Undoubtedly you weren’t. I see his wife is very attractive. Are you jealous?”

“She’s welcome to him.”

“Then why are you objecting to the seating I’ve suggested?”

“Because...” Miranda clamped her mouth shut. It was madness trying to fight this. She’d been right when she’d whirled back inside. Let Bobby do his worst. Let Nathan think what he liked. She was better off out of it. “Fine!” she clipped out. “Have it your way! I hope you enjoy your dinner!”

The bar attendant was on his way back. Miranda used him as interference to avoid anything more to do with Nathan as she returned to the guests.
He
strolled back to the group and began chatting up Celine. Well, not exactly chatting up, but answering her very enthusiastic curiosity about him, and Bobby was content to stay in that little circle of charm, waiting to inject his venom when the chance came.

When it was time to usher everyone to the dining table, Miranda didn’t have to do any arranging of the seating. Nathan claimed the chair at the foot of the table. Celine grabbed the seat to the right of him. Bobby naturally took the seat to his left. The others chose where they willed, leaving the chair at the head of the table for Miranda, since that was where she had sat at lunch-time.

From that moment on, it seemed to Miranda, Nathan controlled everything. He played the part of a charismatic host to perfection. He was interesting, amusing, witty, extending himself to entertain everyone, the life of the party, all the guests hanging on his words, enjoying having his company, loving every minute of his good-humoured sharing of himself and his expert knowledge of the Kimberly region.

Miranda doubted they even tasted the food they consumed. No one bothered to comment on it. They were too busy lapping up the unique experience Nathan was giving them. Occasionally he referred things to her, forcing her into the conversation, and she had to respond as a good hostess would, but she kept remembering the two dinner parties at the station homestead where he hadn’t bothered to put himself out so much, and she resented this performance from him now...lording it over all of them.

It was probably sticking in Bobby’s craw that Nathan was the star attraction. But so what? Did that do any good? Was this some male competition to show her he was better value than Bobby was? If this was supposed to
win
her, it was the wrong way of going about it, as far as Miranda was concerned. She would have preferred to have him sitting next to her, giving her some caring attention instead of impressing how great he was on others.

After the main course was cleared from the table, Celine took herself off to the Powder Room. A fresh coat of glossy red lipstick and a respray of perfume for Nathan’s benefit, Miranda darkly surmised. One of the other women asked her about a picnic box ordered for tomorrow and the rest of the party started checking their planned activities with each other.

Miranda saw Bobby lean over to murmur something to the man who’d upstaged him all evening. Nathan’s face visibly stiffened. His eyes narrowed. Then he leaned over and said something to Bobby that had her former employer straightening up in his chair.

The two men eyed each other in a long, silent duel. More inaudible words were exchanged. Nathan’s expression took on a hard, ruthless cast. Whatever was going on between them was not the least bit entertaining, and Miranda had the sickening feeling she was at the centre of it.