Lindsay Armstrong – The Unexpected Husband (страница 5)

It had been a matter of surprise to many, her family included, that she should have been the first sister to marry, and so young.

He’d been such fun, she thought sadly, the night before she went—not to Queensland, although via it to the Northern Territory. Not that you’d necessarily have known that behind his glasses and his computer-like brain there had lurked a delicious sense of humour. And he’d handled her growing ardour with surprising passion for a man who had always been able to tell you how many points the All Ordinaries or the Dow Jones had gained or dropped overnight.

It wasn’t fair. She’d thought it so many times, when her body had ached physically for him, and her mind had yearned for the warmth, tenderness and laughter they’d generated together.

She’d also suffered the growing conviction it would never happen for her that way again. So that, despite their good intentions, she hated it when people told her it was time to think of falling in love again—even her own sister.

She brushed steadily for a few minutes, trying to compose herself, and finally found some relief from her sad thoughts coming from an unusual direction…Joe Jordan and his hints that she was not as feminine as her gorgeous sister.

She put the brush down and studied herself in the mirror. What would he have thought, she mused, if he’d known that under her suit she’d been wearing—these?

‘These’, beneath her velvet robe, were a midnight-blue silk camisole deeply edged with lace and a matching pair of panties.

She stood up, opened her robe and, putting her hands on her hips, twirled slowly in front of the mirror. True, she conceded to her image, she was not like Daisy, who had an hourglass figure, but—how had Brad put it? Beneath her clothes she was slim, sleek and surprisingly sensuous, and her legs were to die for.

Of course, she told herself as she sat down again and grinned at herself, what appeals to one man may not appeal to another! And although her clothes were sometimes mannish it was only for comfort, and they were beautifully made. She also had a passion for shoes and bags and the finest lingerie.

So there, Mr Jordan, she thought, and was tempted to stick out her tongue at a mental image of him.

Then she sobered and wondered what on earth she was thinking. Only minutes ago she’d been consumed by sadness and the unfairness of fate—how could she be thinking of another man? A man her sister might be in love with—might even have slept with, moreover.

She closed her eyes and clenched her hands until Brad came back to her in her mind, and she remembered how he’d loved to cook, but had been quite hopeless at clearing up after himself…

CHAPTER TWO

SEVERAL days later she was winging her way to Katerina Station in the Victoria River District of the Northern Territory, five hundred kilometres south of Darwin. She’d flown first to Townsville, to spend two days with Brad’s parents in North Queensland, then on to Darwin to spend a day in the veterinary science department of the Northern Territory University.

The vet she was filling in for, although not precisely as a vet, was a friend from university, Tim Patterson. They’d kept in touch over the years, and several months ago he’d written to tell her that he was taking a break from his practice and doing something he’d always wanted to do—joining a mustering team on a cattle station where not only his horsemanship but his veterinary expertise would be useful.

Then, a few weeks ago, he’d written again to say that he was having the time of his life mustering cattle, that it was also wonderful experience for a vet interested in large animals, but for business and personal reasons he needed to take six weeks off and would she be interested in filling in for him? He’d assured her that the Simpson family, who ran Katerina Station, would welcome her enthusiastically and provide accommodation for her in the main homestead—when she wasn’t sleeping under the stars with the rest of the mustering team.

That had done it. She’d gone, cap in hand, to the senior partner of the practice she was working for in Sydney and showed him the letter. He’d given her six weeks’ leave and added enviously, ‘Half your luck, Lydia!’

She was now staring down at the grassy plains, rolling savanna and rocky outcrops of the Victoria River District, known locally as the VRD, as it glided past below. It was a fine, clear day and the sky was huge, so was the panorama beneath it, giving Lydia a sense of the vastness and the emptiness of the ancient continent she called home.

The VRD supported one of the most successful grazing enterprises in northern Australia, but to look down upon it you wouldn’t think a soul lived in it.

The station pilot was young and friendly, and he smiled at her wonderment and took an extra ten minutes to show her the various sets of cattle yards and bores as proof that cattle did exist in large numbers, then he buzzed the Katerina homestead to alert the occupants of his imminent arrival.

He also filled her in about the Simpson family. ‘Sarah is a daughter of the pioneering family that started Katerina,’ he explained. ‘She and her brother inherited it, but when she married she divided her share with her husband, Rolf, and he actually manages the place.’

‘What about the brother?’ Lydia asked.

‘He spends time here, he’s still the major shareholder, but he doesn’t live here—look, there’s a mob on the way to the main yards.’

Lydia stared down at the dust being raised by a mob of cattle as they were moved along by horsemen.

‘Do you only muster by horseback?’ she asked. ‘I thought most of it was done by chopper these days.’

‘Used to be, for a time, but the ringer’s coming back into fashion nowadays. You can’t educate a bunch of cows from a chopper.’

‘Does that mean you’ll be out of a job?’ He’d already told her he piloted a Bell 45 helicopter too.

‘Nope! We work in conjunction. Choppers still have their uses in really difficult terrain and for moving large mobs. OK, here we go.’

He set the light plane down on a grass airstrip in what looked like the middle of nowhere until a large shed came into view.

Lydia emerged as the dust settled. She breathed deeply and looked around. Tim had confided that being a vet did not necessarily confer any special status on a member of this mustering team. They did most of their vet work themselves, and how you rode and handled cattle was the prime consideration—although some of the bigger stations did employ vets as vets.

She’d found this amusing, because he’d also told her that Katerina Station covered a million acres. What was big if not that? she’d pondered. But he’d gone on to say that once they’d realised you knew what you were talking about and doing, you’d find them deferring to you. So, she would have to prove herself first, she reflected. It would be a nice kind of challenge.

She turned as she heard a vehicle approaching, expecting either Sarah or Rolf Simpson. But as another cloud of dust started to subside as it skidded to a stop beside her, a pale gold Labrador dog leapt off the back of the battered utility and raced towards her, only to sit down in front of her and extend a paw.

‘Hello!’ Lydia squatted down in front of the dog and shook the paw gravely. ‘And who might you be? I have to tell you I think you’re gorgeous, and so well-mannered.’

The dog grinned widely and a voice above Lydia said, ‘Glad you approve of my dog. OK, Meg, back in the ute.’

Meg obeyed, but not before giving the owner of the voice a loving lick as he put his hand down to her.

Lydia straightened dazedly. Because there was no mistaking that voice, nor any chance of mistaking the tall man standing in front of her, although he looked so different from the last time she’d seen him.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ It came out before she could help herself as she took in the stained, dusty clothes he wore and the battered felt cowboy hat he dangled—none of which diminished the impact of that ‘well-knit’ tall body and ‘interesting’ face beneath his brown hair…

‘Good morning to you, Miss Lydia Kelso—or rather Mrs,’ Joe Jordan drawled, and leant casually against the bonnet of the vehicle as he allowed his hazel gaze to run over the olive-green stretch moleskins and cream shirt she wore with a sleeveless quilted olive vest and brown boots. Her hair was tousled, but he couldn’t imagine it any other way, he found himself thinking, and it was a gloriously free head of hair, that framed those delicate features admirably.

Lydia, on the other hand, shook her tousled head and looked around, blinking experimentally. ‘Am I on Katerina Station in the Northern Territory run by the Simpson family, or have I been kidnapped?’ she queried.

‘Not at all—’

‘So how did you get here from Balmain?’

‘As I was about to explain, Sarah Simpson is my sister,’ he said mildly.

‘You’re the brother who owns half of the place?’ Lydia stared at him incredulously.

‘None other. I don’t usually trade on it,’ he added modestly, ‘but after you left me the other day, I suddenly thought to myself—Didn’t Rolf let me know that Tim had to go away for six weeks but he’d found someone to take his place who also happened to be a vet? My next thought was that it would be an interesting coincidence should you be the person replacing him.’