The Cattle King's Mistress (12 page)

He nodded, his eyes still burning into hers, intent on scouring any doubts. “I’ll put you in a guest suite. I think it best if you accompany me out on the station tomorrow. Can you be up, dressed and ready for breakfast by six-thirty in the morning?”

She was too drained to argue anything any more. “If there’s an alarm clock in my room and it works.”

“I’ll set it for you.”

Decisions firmly made, he alighted from the Land Cruiser, collected her bag and was opening her door before Miranda could collect wits enough to get out of the vehicle by herself. “Thanks,” she murmured as he steadied her wobbly step onto the ground.

“Want to hang onto my arm?” he offered kindly.

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

Too tired to even try to figure out what Nathan was feeling, how he saw her now. There were so many layers to him...kind, caring, ruthless in carrying through decisive action, shouldering responsibility at a moment’s notice, a masterful controller of situations, yet still respectful of others’ choices.

Part of her very much wanted to hang onto him. Part of her recoiled from giving him any reason to wonder if she was the kind of woman Bobby Hewson had painted...perhaps giving him sex yesterday so he would take her side today.

Though it hadn’t been like that.

She hoped Nathan realised it had been some spontaneous need, triggered by the man he was, nothing else. Nevertheless, she could hardly blame him for wondering about it. If enough dirt was thrown, some of it stuck, and Bobby had certainly done his worst to hang dirt on her tonight.

Too sensitive on this point to touch Nathan even accidentally, Miranda kept a safe space between them as she accompanied him inside, down the long central hallway to another hall that ran at right angles to it. They turned into this and halfway along he opened a door, switched on a light and stood back, waving her ahead of him.

It was a very welcoming room, a pretty patchwork quilt on an old-fashioned brass bed, richly polished cedar wardrobes and chests of drawers giving a warm character to the rest of the furnishings. Following her in, Nathan placed her bag on the end of the bed and moved straight to the lamp table near the bedhead, indicating the clock radio there.

“Will five-thirty give you enough time?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He set the alarm, then pointed out the door between the two wardrobes. “Your ensuite bathroom is through there. Would you like me to fetch you a hot drink or...”

“No. I just want to drop into bed. Thanks for looking after me, Nathan. I’m sorry I’ve brought this trouble...”

“It’s not your doing,” he cut in emphatically. “Just put Hewson behind you, Miranda. You won’t see him again, I promise you.”

Seeing Bobby again was not really the problem. As she watched Nathan give her a wide berth as he moved towards the door, she suddenly couldn’t bear the thought that tonight’s nasty insinuations were simmering away in his mind, seeding doubts about her integrity.

“Nathan...”

The needful cry halted him. His shoulders squared before he turned around, and she mentally cringed at what seemed like his reluctance to face her again. He looked back at her with hooded eyes, tensely waiting for her to complete whatever she wanted to say.

Only her deeply ingrained sense of self-worth drove her on, her eyes begging his belief. “I’ve never used sex to—’’ she agonised over the right words, desperate to correct the impression he might have “—as a tool to gain some advantage for myself.”

“Miranda, if that was the way you worked, you would have targeted Tommy,” he said with quiet conviction. “Don’t fret over what we might think. Neither Tommy nor I will be shaken from what we’ve seen of you and how you’ve conducted yourself since you’ve been at King’s Eden.”

Tears pricked her eyes.

“You have earned the right to our support and protection,” he went on. “So rest easy tonight, knowing you have it and we won’t fail you.”

She nodded, too choked up to speak. No one had ever thrown support behind her like this, such an unstinting degree of faith and loyalty. It gave her almost a sense of belonging, as though she was accepted as
one of their own.

Nathan moved back to where she’d stayed, near the bag at the foot of the bed, and gently touched her cheek. “It must have been rough, growing up in such an insecure environment,” he murmured sympathetically. “I admire what you’ve made of yourself, Miranda. It shows a lot of grit...a strong drive for survival. Don’t let that slimy bastard beat you down now because you’re worth a million of him. He’s glitter and you’re gold. Believe me...I know.”

His hand dropped to her shoulder and he gave it a light squeeze. “Tomorrow is another day. Okay?”

“Yes,” she managed huskily.

His mouth curved into an ironic little smile. “Who knows? We might even make a go of marriage, you and I.”

 He left her with that thought. Miranda had no idea if he was even remotely serious but just the idea of the possibility served to lift a cold, leaden weight off her heart. She touched her cheek where he had touched it, treasuring the lingering sense of warmth. It felt good.

And tomorrow was another day.

Miranda
had no trouble putting Bobby Hewson behind her the next day. She was literally transported to another world. From the safety of Nathan’s helicopter, she watched in awe at the incredible skill of the pilots in the two bubble helicopters, swooping from side to side as they flushed cattle out from under scrubby trees and drove them from watercourses, the clatter of the blades and the roar of the motors relentlessly pressing them into a mob and moving them towards a stock-camp.

On the ground, fences were cut in front of the gathering herd as it was funnelled from paddock to paddock and the numbers kept swelling. By lunch-time several hundred head of cattle had been mustered and driven halfway to the holding yards, where the weaned calves were to be branded and the stock for sale selected.

Nathan had informed her over breakfast that the station ran about thirty-six thousand head of cattle, and six thousand were trucked away each year. The breeding program he’d instigated more than made up these numbers. In different parts of the station were Brahman and English Shorthorn breeds, but these were Africanders, handsome red beasts who could thrive in the most arid areas.

Their movement and colour looked stunning on the backdrop of the vast, beige Mitchell grass plains. There was a wild element to the mustering that added the thrill of danger, a pitting of man against the challenge of the landscape and the unpredictability of cattle that were used to going where they willed, yet there was also a marvellous orchestration to it—the men and machines on the ground supporting the men and machines in the air, gradually dominating a long practiced strategy against the seemingly indomitable.

This was what Nathan’s life was about, Miranda realised, and the grand sweep of it deeply impressed her; the understanding of how it worked, the skill and experience at controlling what was controllable, the management of time and place, and at the heart of it, an environment that demanded an intimate knowledge of its unique natural harmony.

They had lunch by the river, close to where drums of fuel had been set up for the helicopters. Nathan was clearly at ease with his stockmen, welcomed into their company, Miranda accepted without any fuss. A fire had been lit and a billy of water put on to make tea. They sat under the shade of trees and ate damper and slabs of cold meat, the men chatting over the morning’s progress, Miranda content to simply immerse herself in the sights and sounds around her.

Here on the ground she could hear the thunder of hooves and the bellowing of the cattle. She could taste and smell the dust of the mob, and watch the tight intricate ballet of the mustering helicopters. Somehow it made life very vivid, real and earthy in a bigger sense than Miranda had ever experienced before. It was strangely intoxicating as though something heady had seeped into her bloodstream.

The heat of the day added a shimmering haze to the light and when Nathan stood up, marking the end of their lunch-break, an aura seemed to gleam from him, lending even more stature to the man. He turned his gaze to her and the blue magnets of his eyes drew on her soul as though he was willing her to be bonded with him and in more than a physical sense.

His outback empire was both harsh and beautiful and she had the strong feeling he was asking if she could be part of it, if she could accept it and live with it as he did...and she knew in that instant there was nowhere for them to go unless she could honestly say
yes.
Impossible to make a marriage on sexual attraction alone, if marriage really was on his mind. It was this land that had first claim on Nathan—always would— and if she couldn’t share it with him, she lost what truly made him what he was.

A subtle challenge rang through his voice as he said, “Time to move on,’’ and held out a hand to pull her up onto her feet.

He didn’t ask her if she was tired, if she’d prefer to stay at the camp by the river. Taking his hand symbolised her willingness to be where he was, see what he saw, learn the enduring pattern of his life firsthand and judge if she could fit into it. Miranda understood this intuitively, yet the feel of his hand enveloping hers was far more immediate, stimulating a strong awareness of the sexuality zinging through their physical togetherness.

He kept possession of her hand as they walked back to his helicopter and Miranda felt like dancing, her heart was so joyously lightened by the prolonged link. Nathan hadn’t exactly been distant towards her since last night but his manner had remained strictly on a friendly, matter-of-fact level, which she had found inhibiting.

It was almost as though he was denying they had ever shared any intimacy and she hadn’t been sure if this was to reassure her of no sexual pressure intended this weekend, or if he was reserving judgement on there being any possible future in their relationship.

There would be no false promises from Nathan King. Miranda had no doubts on that score. But his hand said he did want her and that hadn’t changed. She couldn’t resist moving her fingers slightly, savouring the touch of rough skin and warm strength, craving the solidity of all this man emitted.

He shot her a questing glance. “You were quiet over lunch.”

“I had nothing to contribute.”

“You could have asked questions.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.”

“I don’t want you to feel like an intruder, Miranda.”

“I don’t. I just wanted to listen, to take everything in.”

“So what did you think?” His eyes were more intensely probing this time.

“I think that any woman who wanted to separate you from all this would have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to realise you
are
this and inseparable from it.”

He gave her a funny little smile, something between wry acknowledgement and self-mocking resignation. “Do you find that off-putting?”

“No. It makes me want to know it all, Nathan,” she answered with absolute sincerity.

Another sharp glance, then a long expulsion of breath. When he spoke, his voice was dry and flat. “Well, when your curiosity turns to boredom, I guess I’ll know. I’ve had plenty of practice at recognising the signs.”

She had no answer to the deeply rooted scepticism seeded by previous women in his life. Only time could lend truth to whatever she felt about him...now or years from now. Yet in her heart, Miranda was certain she would never be bored with Nathan King. There was something so special in the essence of the man, she couldn’t imagine its ever losing its hold on her.

And this outback world had its hold, too. At the end of the day, a thousand head of wild cattle from three huge paddocks had been mustered into stockyards and the helicopters headed for home, their flying insect-like shapes silhouetted against the red flares of the sunset. They flew over what seemed like kilometres of nothing in the gathering darkness, yet Miranda was aware this was deceptive, that life was more spaced out here than anywhere else and it moved to a beat of its own.

Then in the distant landscape there appeared pinpricks of light, a cluster of them, and Miranda’s heart lifted with a sense of homecoming as she realised they were the lights of the station buildings being switched on. It was strange...feeling they were welcoming her, like a friendly beacon drawing her in to a safe harbour. Lights had never had that effect before. Somehow, between yesterday and today, it seemed more shifts had taken place in her life.

Or perhaps it simply represented the kind of home she yearned for, a place of belonging, light after dark, a long, solid reality that lasted, regardless of good times and bad, a core history of humanity that had stayed, survived, prospered, and was now embodied in Nathan who had brought her into it with such protective caring. Safety, comfort, love...

Could he love her?

The question remained almost feverishly in her mind as they returned to the homestead, then parted to wash and change into fresh clothes for dinner. Showering made her intensely conscious of her body, how it had fitted to Nathan’s, how it had felt, and it was difficult to push those memories aside and concentrate on what Nathan would want from her in the long term. Sex was not enough. Yet even sternly telling herself this did nothing to lessen her state of arousal.

The need for him continued to course through her. She put on a soft wraparound dress—a little black dress that was meant to be worn braless—knowing it would make her look accessible, wanting him to know she was accessible to anything he offered her. That was the raw, bottom-line truth and she wasn’t going to flinch from it any more or let any fear of consequences get in the way.

When they met in the lounge room for pre-dinner drinks, she could barely stop herself from eating him up with her eyes, the sheer maleness of his magnificent physique hitting her anew. Her pulse was galloping as he handed her a glass but his fingers didn’t touch hers and he took a seat away from her, signalling his intent to control whatever he felt.

Miranda wished
she
could. Reason finally came to the fore, prompting her to ply him with questions about how the station worked, the various responsibilities of the people he employed, the schedule everyone followed to accomplish what had to be accomplished. The mental challenge of taking in his replies and fitting them all together was stimulating, too.

Not once did the conversation lag over dinner. Miranda was frightened to let it because she knew any silence would fill with sexual tension and he might think this was all there was between them. She was hungry for much, much more. All of him, not just the body that called so strongly to hers.

As it was, her interest in his world acted as an aphrodisiac, because his answers filled out the kind of man he was and to Miranda he was everything a man should be, very hands-on in taking care of every part of his business, treating his people with integrity and respect, aiming for the best that could be done within the parameters of what he worked with.

After dinner he took her to his office, pressed into showing her the map of King’s Eden, pointing out the location of the different breeds of cattle and how they would be mustered over the coming month, giving her a visual picture of the whole operation and a better understanding of the scale of it. To her captivated heart and mind, it was a kingdom, and it could be an Eden... with Nathan.

He was explaining more to her but she lost the thread of what he was saying, her gaze fastening on his pointing hand, running up his tautly muscled arm, over his broad shoulder to the strong brown neck laid bare by the opened collar of his shirt. She didn’t hear his voice trail into silence. Her ears were filled with the drum of her own heart as she saw the pulse at the base of his throat move to the beat of his.

Slowly his chest turned towards her and the hand that had been pointing drew back and curled over her shoulder, pulling her around to face him squarely. Realising she had been caught being inattentive, Miranda lifted pleading eyes to his, a flush of guilt scorching her cheeks as she cried, “I’m not bored. I...”

Her mouth dried up under the searing look of hunger that burned with all the urgent heat of her own. He lifted his other hand and with featherlight fingertips stroked a few wayward strands of hair from her brow, then the soft skin at the corner of her eye, her cheek, her lips, a fine tingling tracery that stirred every nerve-ending into exquisite anticipation and caught the breath in her throat.

But he didn’t kiss her. His eyes didn’t move from hers. Only his hands moved, a sensual caress of her neck, shoulders, softly hooking the supporting straps of her dress with his thumbs and slowly pulling them down her arms, the cross-over pattern of the bodice parting, opening wide, sliding down the slopes of her breasts, caught briefly on peaks that had hardened with tremulous excitement before dropping to her waist, baring her breasts.

Yet still his gaze held hers, the naked hunger simmering into a lustful challenge that demanded her consent to the charged desire driving his fingertips to savour every tactile sensation, the silky texture of her skin, the curve of her spine, swirling patterns of touch all over her back, her arms, arousing erogenous zones she never knew she had, the side swells of her breasts, the hollow below her rib-cage, then upwards, circling her aureoles, outwards and inwards, building a delicate web of sensual intensity that was utterly captivating.

Then his palms, softly rotating nipples that were begging for attention, and a flare of exultant pleasure in his eyes as he saw the sweetly relieving pleasure of it in hers. No rush to passion tonight. The wanting had been mounting all day, and the desire to satisfy every bit of it was a consensual current neither of them could deny now.

She undid the tie at her waist and the soft fabric of her dress slithered to the floor. The stretch lace briefs she wore provided the smallest barrier to complete nakedness yet she felt no self-consciousness about her body. Nathan wasn’t even looking at it. He was touching her mind, wordlessly telling her he had craved feeling her like this, revelling in the full sensation of her femininity, determined on missing nothing, wanting her to feel him wanting all of her.

The need to reach out to him in like manner drove her hands to feel for the lowest button on his shirt. A wild glitter leapt into his eyes, then was forcibly tamed. “Later if you want,” he said gruffly, “but this I must have first.”

Miranda found herself swept off her feet before she could begin to read his intention. In a few breathless seconds he carried her from the office by way of a connecting door to a bedroom she had to assume was his. The bed he laid her on was wide and long, king-size, the head of it piled with thick pillows, the rest of it covered with a softly padded quilt. The only light was from the opened doorway so there was no seeing any detail even if she’d been interested in looking. At this heart-pounding moment anything beyond Nathan was irrelevant.