The Cattle King's Mistress (7 page)

It was
Tommy, not Nathan, who greeted them at the door and ushered them inside. As they moved towards the lounge room, the usual snippy repartee went on between him and Sam but it floated over Miranda’s head. Every nerve in her body was screwed tight, waiting with an excruciating awareness of her own helpless fever-pitch anticipation, to feel whatever she would feel when she came face-to-face with Nathan King again.

Then they entered the room where he had to be... and he wasn’t there. The big black leather armchair where he’d been sitting that first night was unoccupied. Elizabeth King was sitting in
her
chair. A tall young man—the third brother?—had risen from the nearby chesterfield and was holding his arms out in welcome. No one else was in the room!

Sam rushed forward and into Jared’s offered embrace with all the gusto of an excited puppy, delighted to see a much-missed loved one. While she was being whirled around, admired and kissed, a strange, blank feeling descended on Miranda, stilling all the wild agitation this visit had set in motion.

She wasn’t aware of having come to a dead halt, wasn’t aware of Tommy lingering at her side, wasn’t aware of Elizabeth King watching her. For several empty moments, she didn’t know what she was doing here. The whole focus of her coming was lost. Nathan wasn’t even present.

Then Tommy nudged her elbow, and her mind clicked into a different alert phase. It was Elizabeth King who had commanded her presence and there was another brother to meet. It took a giant effort to recollect herself, to smile at Nathan’s mother, to move forward for the introduction Tommy obviously wanted to make. The older woman, dressed in a pale green shift tonight, and the pearls she seemingly always wore, dipped her head in a gracious acknowledgement.

Miranda had chosen to wear white, wanting Sam to feel she outshone her, which Sam did in a bright blue clingy dress that enhanced the colour of her eyes. Whether Sam’s glamorised appearance had the desired effect on Tommy, Miranda neither knew nor cared at the moment. His voice seemed to boom in her ears, accentuating the hollowness inside her.

“Jared, if you wouldn’t mind freeing yourself from the sex-kitten clinging onto you...”

The man with Sam grinned at him. “Jealous, Tommy?”

“Wait for the claws, little brother. That kitten can deliver lethal scratches.”

“Oh, there are some guys who can make me purr,” Sam tossed at him, purring so exaggeratedly it made both men laugh.

Miranda managed to keep a smile pasted on her face and tried to inject interest into her eyes as Tommy proceeded to present her to his brother.

“This is my resort manager, Miranda Wade. And Sam’s victim for the night is my brother, Jared, the jet setter, who has deigned to touch down with us this weekend.”

“Now, Tommy, you know you wear the title of King of the Air. I’m merely a passenger,” Jared remarked good-humouredly as he offered his hand to Miranda, smiling into her eyes. “I’m delighted to meet you.”

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Jared.”

She forced her mind to gather impressions. Of the three sons, he most favoured his mother in looks, the same deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, straight aristocratic nose. His thick black hair dipped over his forehead in an attractive wave, softening what was a rather lean face. He was slightly taller than Tommy, not as tall as Nathan, and his slim physique seemed to carry a whip-chord strength rather than solidly built muscle.

“I hope it will be,” he said, projecting warm friendliness. “Some people find our family a bit daunting en masse. Sam is used to us—’’ he withdrew his hand and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a smile and a hug “—virtually grew up with us...”

En masse?
The phrase jolted Miranda. Would Nathan be joining them?

Unaccountably her skin began prickling. Her attention drifted from what Jared was saying. As though tugged by some invisible force, her head turned...and he was there, bringing with him a current of energy that blasted everyone else out of Miranda’s consciousness.

Her body instantly reacted to how big he was, how male he was, and a shock wave of memory supplied how he’d felt pressed close to her...the power and the strength of the man tapping on instincts that responded in full flood. An aching weakness spread through her, threatening every bit of composure she’d managed to harness.

She watched his approach with a sense of helpless vulnerability, belatedly realising he was carrying a tray of drinks from an adjoining room and not really targeting her.

“Champagne cocktails for everyone,” he announced, drawing enthusiastic replies from the rest of the party.

Miranda stood dumbly, feeling his deep voice thrum into her bloodstream, kicking her heart into a wild gallop. He made good-humoured comments to everyone as he offered the tray, first to his mother, then to her and Sam. Miranda took a glass before caution could whisper she shouldn’t consume anything so potent as a champagne cocktail. The men took their drinks and Nathan made a toast.

“To a happy evening together.”

Tommy and Jared kept topping that toast in a stream of witty repartee. Sam and Elizabeth King laughed at them. Nathan casually moved aside, placing himself directly in front of Miranda.

“Would you prefer iced water?” he asked. “I’ve just remembered...”

“No, this is fine, thank you,” she rushed out so fast her voice sounded breathless. Her gaze was stuck at the gleaming V of brown flesh revealed by his open-necked shirt. She had to force it up, feeling dreadfully unprotected as the force of his dangerously discerning gaze hit hers. “Drinking a toast with iced water isn’t quite the same, is it?” she said in a more moderate tone.

He smiled. “The choice is yours.”

Her mind seized on his seemingly deliberate use of the word,
choice.
His smile was inviting, encouraging, or was she so giddy from trying to control her own desires she was misreading his intention?

“This will do for now,” she said, sipping the cocktail gingerly.

“Good! Is the resort working out as you wanted?”

“Everything is running very smoothly at the moment.”

His smile took on an ironic curl. “My mother was extremely vexed I knew nothing to tell her. Tommy, incidentally, gave a glowing report.”

“I’m glad he’s pleased with my management.”

“No question about that,” he assured her, though his eyes seemed to burn with questions.

Miranda could feel herself flushing. Did he think she had Tommy dangling on a string? “I like my work,” she said defensively.

“My mother will be glad to hear it. She likes to check things for herself.”

Was he excusing himself from having anything to do with this command invitation? Letting her know she was still
safe
from him? Subtly directing her to where she should be
right now!

Her gaze shot to Elizabeth King and her cheeks grew hotter at the realisation that the older woman was keenly observing her. Distracted by Nathan, Miranda had ignored her hostess, and was probably being judged wanting in good manners. It was all the more embarrassing, with Nathan actually hinting where her place was.

“Please excuse me,” she gabbled, and made a bee-line for Elizabeth King, concentrating fiercely on how to minimise her gaffe.

She was graciously welcomed to the seat beside Elizabeth and remained there, doing her utmost to redeem herself in the older woman’s eyes until dinner was called. Not that she was subjected to a cross-examination of business angles. The conversation seemed more directed towards her feelings about King’s Eden, apparently determining how settled or unsettled she was in her new location. Miranda hoped her replies gave satisfaction. It was impossible to stop the dreadful churning in her stomach.

When they moved into the dining room, she was expecting to be placed next to Elizabeth. It was disconcerting—the purpose of her being here thrown out of kilter again—when she and Sam were directed to flank Nathan at the end of the table with Tommy and Jared on either side of their mother.

A balanced table... Tommy’s comment flitted through Miranda’s mind, yet it didn’t feel right to her. The three King brothers and Sam shared a long familiarity. She was the outsider, placed in their midst but not a part of them, and that feeling deepened as dinner progressed and the others talked of people and events she had no knowledge of.

This was a world that was closed to her, she kept thinking, and she would never belong to it. Somehow she would have to stifle the feelings Nathan stirred in her. As it was, being seated so close to him was a nagging torment. Every movement he made, every word he said, burned more brightly on her consciousness than anything else.

When Jared started asking questions about her experience in the hospitality business in the city, compared to the situation she was handling now, she responded eagerly to his interest, welcoming a conversation that took her mind off Nathan. Tommy moved the topic onto tourism, and Sam brought up comments from her parents who were currently touring Argentina.

“What about your family, Miranda?” Nathan suddenly inserted, making her heart leap and her head jerk towards him.

He offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re in the midst of ours. Sam’s been rattling on about hers. I guess it’s made you feel a bit homesick for yours.”

“Not at all,” she denied, confusion whirling through her mind again. Why was he asking? She’d told him she didn’t belong anywhere. Despite the smile, his eyes seemed to be gleaming with purpose.

“Well, no doubt they’ll be coming to visit you,” Jared suggested.

Shaken by Nathan’s unexpected and forceful focus on her, Miranda was slow to respond to his brother.

Sam leapt in. “Have you got any scrumptious bachelor brothers that might drop in?” she asked, picking up the ball she’d been playing against Tommy all night.

“No,” Miranda answered with what she hoped was discouraging brevity.

“Sensational sisters?” Tommy countered.

“I have no family,” she stated bluntly, cornered into revealing that much.

Sam goggled at her. “You were an orphan?”

How could she stop this rolling inquisition? “I wasn’t as a child. I simply have no family now,” she said with emphatic finality.

“You mean they were all wiped out in some terrible accident?”

“Sam,” Nathan cut in tersely, his frown chastising her for avid curiosity, which might lead into painful areas.

“Sorry!” She grimaced an apology. “Guess I’ve drunk too much champagne.” Her eyes appealed to Miranda. “It’s just you’ve been such a mystery, never mentioning anything personal in your past.”

The comment focused even more interest on her and Miranda realised it would linger if it went unanswered, casting an awkward mood for the rest of the evening. Besides, what did it really matter? What point was there in hiding the fact she had no family pedigree whatsoever, nothing at all to recommend her to this company, apart from the business connection?

“There’s no great mystery, Sam,” she said with a casual shrug. “Unlike you and everyone else here, I have no family history going back generations. My mother was an orphan. I was her only child. She wasn’t married and never did marry. I wasn’t told who my father was and my mother died some years ago. So you see, I have very little to talk about.”

An appalled silence followed this little speech. Miranda found it so unnerving, she felt a compelling urge to fill it in with more talk, minimising the great black hole in her life they were probably all envisaging.

“Family is not a factor in my life, but it’s been very enlightening listening to all your news and the long connections between the Connellys and the Kings. It’s very different from what I’ve known myself.”

She tore her gaze from the miserable embarrassment on Sam’s face and steeled herself to look straight at Nathan who’d started this spotlight on her, digging under her skin again. She might as well hammer home the point that she was an unsuitable match for a King, and knew it too well to imagine any personal relationship between them could be viable.

“The framed photographs along your hallway here...such a history must be fascinating to have...to look back on...to feel a part of...”

“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes burning back a relentless challenge. “And most remarkable are the women who chose to follow their men here and make a life with them on this land. Like Sarah, who ran a brothel in Kalgoorlie, before throwing her lot in with Gerard.”

“Sarah? Who wrote the diaries?” Miranda couldn’t believe it.

“Yes. You might find them interesting to read sometime.”

It must be true, Miranda thought dazedly.

“Then there was Dorothy, a governess on one of the cattle stations in The Territory,” he went on. “One of nine children whose family was so poor she was virtually sold into slave labour. One less mouth to feed.”

He paused to let that information sink in, his eyes mocking any sense of grandeur about his family.

“Irene was the wife of a stockman who was thrown from his horse and died of a broken neck. She had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. She stayed here and married Henry King.”

“But that was in the old pioneering days,” Miranda finally found wits enough to protest. “I daresay there weren’t so many women then who would want to cope with such a life.”