Storms Over Blackpeak (11 page)

‘Two owners, fully restored, a hundred and sixty thousand ks,’ Luke said. ‘With a six-month dealer warranty.’

‘It’s amazing.’ Ella circled it in awe. She had never seen one even remotely that good. ‘Where did you—? How did you—?’ She shook her head.

‘You want to take it for a drive?’

Ella opened the door. The cab was mint, too. She ran her hand over the upholstery. It was just perfect. It was …

With a thud, Ella’s brain caught up with her heart. It was all wrong, that’s what it was. This was her first car. She was supposed to buy it herself. That was the point. She didn’t want Luke — or Lizzie, or anyone — to just give it to her.
It was supposed to be something she earned with her own money.

Reluctantly, she turned to face Luke. ‘It’s … it’s wonderful.’ She frowned. ‘But you — you can’t just … you shouldn’t have …’

‘I didn’t,’ he said drily. He handed her a piece of paper. ‘If you decide to buy it, there’s the price.’

Ella looked down at a dealer’s purchase agreement. ‘But’ — she frowned harder — ‘that can’t be right. It has to cost more than that.’

Luke’s green eyes glittered with triumph. ‘I may not know very much about four-wheel-drives,’ he said, ‘but I know how to cut a deal.’

‘There’s something else I have to tell you,’ Luke remembered, later that night.

‘Uh-huh.’ Ella revolved in his arms.

‘I’ve cleared my diary on Friday. I don’t have to go in.’

‘Really?’ Great! Maybe they could take the Land Cruiser out to the beach.

‘I thought’ — he stroked her face — ‘we could get away for a couple of nights.’

Oh. Her heart sank a little. The last thing she needed was another hotel. Still, it was about time they did something Luke wanted to do. She could play with her car another day.

‘I know this little place a couple of hours up the coast …’

‘Of course you do.’ Ella rolled her eyes. She could only imagine how many girls he must have taken there. She hoped there wasn’t a guest book.

‘A place,’ Luke continued firmly, with a look of rebuke, ‘I used to go to as a kid. It’s my uncle’s bach, actually. I haven’t been there for years. You’d like it, I think. It’s special.’ He
sighed wryly. ‘There are lots of sticks and stones to take photographs of.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ Ella said. ‘What else is there to do?’

‘Not a lot,’ he admitted. ‘No phones, no TV. We can go for a walk. Or …’ His voice fell suggestively.

‘Yes?’

‘We can sit by the fire’ — Luke’s eyes slid down, following the course of his hand as it made its way down to the point of her hip — ‘and enjoy the view.’

‘So,’ she teased him, ‘it’s a lot like Glencairn Station, then?’

‘With one important difference.’

‘What’s that?’

‘There’s nobody else in it.’ He watched her face, looking suddenly serious. ‘What do you think?’

She kissed him. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Good.’ Luke grinned. ‘Oh, did I mention you can only get there by four-wheel-drive?’ His grin broadened at the expression on Ella’s face. ‘I thought we might take your car.’

In the shower on Thursday morning, Ella was already planning what clothes to take on Luke’s mystery tour. Off-road chic — what did that look like, exactly? Maybe she should buy an oilskin … She smiled at herself. She hadn’t felt this excited about going anywhere other than home in a long time.

She came out of the bathroom to find her phone was ringing. Thinking it might be Luke, Ella made a dive for it. Oh no. She bit her lip at the sight of Damian’s name on the screen. With a sinking heart, she picked up the call.

‘You’re back,’ she guessed.

‘Ella, hey.’ Damian’s gravelly East Coast American voice met her ear. ‘Yeah, listen, a job’s come up.’

Of course it had. Why couldn’t he just say he’d got bored?

‘I need you today.’

Today
? Jesus. ‘Where?’ she asked, with a silent prayer that it might be somewhere local. Melbourne or Sydney, even — she could still get back from there by Friday evening, at least.

‘Santiago,’ said Damian, breezily.

Chile?

‘
Time
have us on the afternoon flight out of Auckland,’ Damian went on. ‘Can you get there?’

Desperately, Ella tried to think of a way to say no.

‘Hey, I know it’s short notice.’ His voice softened. ‘You probably have plans. You want me to get someone else?’

No! ‘No,’ she said quickly. If Damian found a freelancer he liked better, she might never get the work back. She couldn’t risk her job for a weekend away. Ella closed her eyes. She’d seen how important this weekend was to Luke. If she did go with Damian, what was she risking then?

‘Ella? You there?’

But she couldn’t — she
shouldn’t
— chance her career for a guy. And especially not when the guy was Luke, who, let’s face it — Ella cast her mind back to how unhappy he’d looked on Sunday morning at Glencairn — was quite likely to disappear in a puff of smoke at any moment.

‘I’m here,’ she told Damian.

‘So, you can make it?’

‘Sure.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll meet you in the lounge.’

Having ended the call, Ella sank her head into her hands. She felt almost certain she’d done the right thing. But as she looked up, the sight of her new car keys on the bedside table brought a lump to her throat. She didn’t want to go to bloody Santiago. She wanted to stay here, with Luke. At the thought of his face last night, she put her head back in her hands.

He’d planned the perfect weekend for her. How the hell was she going to tell him?

Chapter
NINE

Perched beside Carr in the cab, Lizzie watched the sheep run out of the snowy folds of the hills to meet the tractor. Judging by their eagerness, she thought this might have to rank as the best meal she had ever served.

As Carr brought the tractor’s slow crawl to a halt at the top of the block, she looked out at the view. Across the valley, she could see Ash and Cally feeding out to a mob of ewes on a lower block with the second tractor. From its erratic progress, she guessed Ash was teaching Cally to drive.

She cast a glance across at Carr as he worked the gears. It hadn’t exactly been easy dragging herself out of his bed in the dark that morning, but she was glad she’d made herself do it. It had been magical being out there at dawn, the sun
rising behind them over fresh snow, the tips of the mountains ahead glowing pink and gold and the valleys below blue and crisp with the sub-zero cold. Even Carr had felt the need to start the day in a jacket — though he had, she noted, since taken it off and was driving bare-armed as usual, the sleeves of his jersey pushed over his elbows.

‘You want to drive for a bit?’ he asked, turning back downhill.

‘No, thanks.’ Lizzie looked out at the deceptively smooth snow. God — and Carr — knew what obstacles lurked under there. ‘I think I’ll leave that to you.’

By the time they got back to the homestead the sun was high and she was starving.

‘Coffee?’ Carr suggested, eyeing the clock.

‘How about I make us some breakfast?’ Lizzie opened the fridge door hopefully. ‘Is there any bacon left?’

‘Plenty.’ Busy filling the coffee pot, he looked over his shoulder. ‘Gwynnie’s still going strong.’

‘Bless the poor old girl,’ Lizzie sighed, locating the packet. Counting rashers, she frowned. ‘Actually, there isn’t that much of her in here, though.’ Certainly not with Ash on his way.

‘There’s more in the back fridge.’

Passing the pantry, she spied the evidence of Ash’s first breakfast. She’d better defrost some more bread as well. Lizzie lifted the lid of the chest freezer on what was apparently an EU-sized stockpile of mince. She had better show Cally some things to do with all that. She thought hard. Maybe they’d try a lasagne.

The porch door opened, laughter drifting through it.

‘I’m making bacon and eggs,’ Lizzie called, ‘if you two want some.’

Ash stuck his head around the door. ‘Yes, please.’

‘Cally? How about you?’ Closing the freezer, Lizzie walked out to see Cally standing there in work-socks and jeans, her wet gumboots in her hand and several bits of hay caught up in her hair. Her unmade-up cheeks were stung pink by the cold and her eyes were bright.

‘Thanks,’ Cally beamed, putting down her boots and hanging her coat on the peg. ‘I’m starving.’

An hour later, curled up by the range with her book, Lizzie was just reflecting that lovely as it had been to be outside, it was also very nice to be in, when Ash arrived back downstairs, a rather odd look on his face.

‘Do you know where Dad is?’

She nodded. ‘He’s upstairs having a shower.’

Ash let out his breath, giving the kitchen window a very Fergusson-like glare.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘No,’ he snapped. Giving himself a little shake, he recovered his manners. ‘No, it’s just … a friend of mine wants to come and stay for a while, that’s all.’

‘That’s nice,’ she suggested. ‘Where’s he from?’

The door opened.

‘You ready to go?’ Cally walked in, sweeping her lengthening hair up into a ponytail and smiling at Ash.

Ash stared at her, his brow furrowing, as if he was trying to remember who she was.

‘Aren’t we …?’ Cally faltered, her own forehead creasing. ‘I thought … I thought we were taking Windy out …’

‘Yeah,’ he said. He raked his hand through his hair. ‘Yeah, we are.’

The phone rang and Ash grabbed it quickly. ‘Hello?’

Lizzie watched curiously as he turned his back on them.

‘Oh.’ He sounded relieved. ‘Hi. Yeah, good thanks. You? Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll get her for you.’

Ash held out the phone to Lizzie. ‘It’s Luke.’

She took the handset from him. ‘Luke! Hello.’ She watched Ash and Cally head out into the porch.

‘Hey, Lizzie. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to interrupt …’

‘You’re not interrupting.’ Lizzie dragged her attention away from the ever-fascinating question of what — if anything — was going on between Cally and Ash, and back to the phone in her hand.

‘I hope you don’t mind me calling you there,’ Luke’s voice went on.

‘Of course I don’t.’ God, he sounded utterly miserable. ‘Is everything okay?’

There was a long silence on the end of the line.

‘Yeah …’ Luke said at last. ‘Yeah, no, everything’s fine … it’s just … I just …’

‘Is Ella with you?’

‘No. She’s in Santiago.’ He paused. ‘I think.’

‘Oh,’ Lizzie managed.

‘Look, I just thought … Well, I have to head down to Wanaka for some meetings next week. I thought maybe if you were going to be home on Tuesday night …’

‘You’d drop in? That would be lovely.’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘When did I ever mind?’ she teased him. ‘Come for dinner — stay the night, if you can. It’ll be just like old times.’ Back in the days when the vineyard had been a regular port of call for Luke on his business trips south, the two of them had put together some pretty good deals over her kitchen bench and a bottle of pinot noir.

‘Thank you,’ he sighed. ‘I’d love that.’

She was a little shocked at how very grateful he sounded.
‘So would I,’ she said firmly. ‘Just text me when you’re on your way.’

‘Will do. Lizzie …?’

‘What?’ she prompted gently.

‘Nothing. Just … thanks. Really.’

‘You know,’ she suggested, ‘you’re welcome at the vineyard anytime. Just come down whenever you want. Okay? You’re family. You don’t need an invitation.’

‘Okay.’ Luke’s voice sounded a little strange. ‘I’ll see you Tuesday.’

She put down the phone with a sigh. Ever since Ella had fallen for Luke — and vice versa, it certainly seemed — Lizzie had been half expecting to have to pick up the pieces. She’d just never imagined they might be pieces of Luke.

The phone rang again. Lizzie waited. Maybe Carr would answer it upstairs. On the other hand, it might be Luke calling back. On the sixth ring, she picked up.

‘Hello?’

Her own voice echoed back at her. Recognising the hum of an international line, Lizzie waited. Maybe it was Ella calling to tell her where — exactly — she was. And why Luke sounded so unhappy.

‘Hello,’ said a woman’s voice at last. ‘May I speak with Ash, please?’

Chapter
TEN

Cally reined back, pausing to watch as Ash galloped Windy up the snowy track, the horse’s long mane and tail streaming out and his dappled coat shining, showers of fresh white powder flying up from his feet to glisten in the brilliant afternoon sun. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything lovelier.

Down on the flats behind her, the snow that had blanketed the homestead the previous weekend had gone from all but the deepest shadows. But what had fallen as heavy rain on the homestead’s roof overnight had returned the hills to a pristine white before departing to reveal a sapphire-blue sky and a glorious winter’s day.

Sarge whickered in protest at the delay, and Cally let him have his head, feeling a wave of pure joy as he surged
forward through the snow in pursuit of Windy.

She reached the top of the ridge to find Ash already off his horse and standing on the edge of the bluff, his binoculars scanning the hillside across the narrow hanging valley to the south. Sliding down from Sarge, Cally followed Ash’s gaze. It was a massive view. She tried to imagine what it must feel like to look out at it knowing you were responsible for everything you saw.

Shivering a little at the enormity of what Ash and Carr did every day, she turned around to face the sun. The snow glinted crisp and smooth, broken only by their own tracks. Unable to resist, Cally scooped up a handful of powder and tossed it high in the air, admiring its shimmer as it fell.

There was a soft thud as a snowball hit her between the shoulder blades.

‘What are you?’ she laughed, turning. ‘Twelve?’ She picked up another handful of snow and threw it, without much thought, in Ash’s general direction. She pressed her hand to her mouth as it hit Ash between the eyes. Oh! She couldn’t have done
that
if she’d tried …

‘Right,’ Ash grinned. Grabbing his own handful of snow and compacting it, he advanced towards her.

Cally’s sidestep almost succeeded, but Ash was too quick. Caught, she twisted in his arms, arching her neck to evade his snow-filled hand as he seized the collar of her jacket. Cally put her hands on his chest to push him away. But once there, her hands seemed to develop a mind of their own. As if in slow motion, they rose to touch the warm, bare skin of his neck. Looking up into his face, she brushed her fingers over the scar above his cheekbone. Ash looked back at her, the laughter fading from his eyes as he bent his head and kissed her.

His hand — free of snow — moved through her hair,
raising her face to his. Ash’s arms might well be the only thing holding her up, but they seemed more than equal to the task. A wave of warmth flowed through her body. Cally drifted with it as Ash began to kiss her harder. God, the whole world was starting to throb …

Oh— As Ash stepped quickly away from her, Cally looked up. Above, the rotors of the helicopter beat a path across the blue sky as Carr headed home from his heli-skiing charter.

When she looked back down, Ash was standing five metres away, Windy’s reins in his hand. ‘We’d better get back,’ he said, swinging up into the saddle.

Cally felt like rubbing her eyes. Had she just dreamed that?

Turning the horse, Ash started down the track. What the fuck? Mounting Sarge as quickly as she could, Cally followed him back down. The nature of the track didn’t lend itself to talking, even if she had been able to think what she could say.

As they dismounted in front of the stables, Carr pulled up beside them on his way back from the hangar. Climbing out of the Hilux, he leaned his elbows on the rail, looking Windy over.

‘He’s working well.’

‘Yeah.’ Ash didn’t return the warmth in his father’s voice. Without looking at Carr, or at Cally, he swept the saddle off Windy’s back.

‘I thought I might have spooked him up there.’

‘No,’ Ash said flatly.

Cally felt herself blush.

‘Right.’ With one last look at the horse, Carr straightened. ‘I’m off up to the house. Lizzie’s on her way.’

There was an awkward pause.

‘Why don’t you head up with Dad,’ Ash nodded to Cally, still not meeting her eyes. ‘I’ve got a few things I need to do in the yards when I finish up here. I might be a while.’

In the bathroom that night, Cally got ready for bed with a growing sense of frustration. Ash hadn’t come in from the yards until dinner was virtually on the table. Then afterwards, he’d gone straight to his room. Was he really going to let the day end without saying a word? Was she supposed to pretend he hadn’t kissed her? He had. Hadn’t he? Or actually, had she kissed him? Had he just been being — what? She considered her face in the mirror. Polite? Had he not wanted to hurt her feelings?

Cally tapped a tube of cleanser against her palm, grappling with the urge to bang on Ash’s bedroom door and demand an explanation. Dammit. She’d forgotten she’d used the last of the tube that morning. Having checked that the coast was clear, she ducked quickly across the hall and grabbed the new box from her room. She was just straightening up from rinsing her face when the bathroom door flew open and Ash, already pulling his singlet over his head, stopped just short of colliding with her.

‘Sorry.’ He looked mortified. ‘I thought I heard— I thought you’d finished in here.’

Cally put down her towel. In the mirror, she held Ash’s eyes.

Ash blew out his breath. ‘Okay, look.’ With a quick glance out at the hall, he shut the door behind them. ‘About today …’

Yes. Cally watched his face. About that.

‘The thing is,’ he said slowly, ‘I …’ His gaze fell. ‘Is that my shirt?’

She blushed. It had lost a few more buttons since he’d last seen it. In fact, when you came to consider it as carefully as Ash was doing now, there wasn’t a lot of it left. ‘I didn’t think you wanted it,’ she said.

He tilted his head, considering the long rip across the shoulder. ‘Neither did I.’

Cally’s breath caught at his touch on her skin. Fascinated, she watched his hand travel over the point of her shoulder and down her arm, slipping through the torn fabric to brush her stomach and rise over her ribs. As his palm grazed her naked breast, her lips parted. Gently, Ash turned her to face him.

Cally sank her fingers into the mass of his neck as his mouth came down on hers, his hands mounting her thighs as he lifted her onto the marble countertop. God, everything about him was hard. She clutched at the braced muscles of his shoulders, feeling the lines of their scar as her fingers slid over his back. Gasping as his thumb began to move over her nipple, Cally found the top button of his jeans and worked it free. Jesus.

Ash groaned against her ear. The back of her head hit the mirror as he thrust forward, and he caught her to him, cradling her head with one hand while the other braced them both away from the wall. Cally pressed her open lips to his skin. She’d never wanted anything as much in her—

‘Shit.’ On the wall beside her, Ash’s hand opened and closed. ‘I can’t.’ He pulled back. ‘I can’t do this.’

He had to be fucking kidding. He was stopping?
Now
? And as for
can’t
, she had some pretty strong evidence to the contrary …

He banged his hand on the wall. ‘I can’t.’

Cally stared at him. But before she could gather her thoughts — let alone her shirt — Ash had turned his back on her and, pausing only to button his jeans, walked out of the bathroom.

With a groan, she beat her head on the mirror again. What the
hell
… Following him out a few minutes later, Cally paused, looking back at Ash’s closed door across the
hall. God, she wished she had the guts to go in there and — and —

She hung her head. There was only so much rejection a girl could take in one day. Sighing, she went into her own bedroom and shut the door.

When Cally got up the next morning, Ash’s bedroom door was open, and the room was empty. Her eyes flitted over his neatly made bed. Unkindly, she hoped he’d slept as uncomfortably as she had.

She was already starting on lunch when Ash pulled up in Carr’s Hilux. Hearing the slam of the door outside, both she and Carr looked up.

Carr frowned as Ash walked around the truck to open the passenger door. ‘I thought I’d fixed that.’

They watched the figure of a girl emerge, handbag first, and pause, raising her dark glasses to look up at the house. Then, slipping her arm through Ash’s, she began to pick her way across the gravel. She was almost as tall as he was — most of it legs, as far as Cally could see.

She heard the clip of high heels on the floor of the porch, and then the kitchen door opened.

‘Hello!’ Seeing Carr, the girl’s cat-like face broke into a perfect smile. Cally watched in awe as she ran a hand through her mane of hair. She looked like she had the same hairdresser as Windy. And, for that matter, as whatever that dead thing had been before it became a collar.

‘Maria Valentina Consuela de Sosa Mendes.’ She held out her hand to Carr, palm down.

Turning her hand, he shook it. ‘I’m Carr. Fergusson,’ he added, with an irony you’d have to know him well to notice.

‘Carr.’ Her almond eyes flashed up at him. ‘I am Valentina.’