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As if reading a message in her eyes he gave a low exultant laugh and his lips claimed hers, sending the blood surging through her veins as he awakened an instant response deep within her, which would not be denied. As his firm mouth moved on hers, she felt as if she was being swept along on a glorious tide of emotion which would carry her off the edge of the world ...

‘Didn’t he do well?’

Appalled, Katriona heard the whistles and comments of the other riders and realised she had forgotten all about them. Too late, she knew, to retrieve that cool, prim and proper Miss Carmichael image. They had seen her arms automatically creep around Morgan’s neck and her fingers bury themselves in his thick dark hair as she drew him ever closer to her, wanting the electricity flowing between them to weld them together for ever.

‘Ross Carmichael’s daughter!’ Morgan’s voice had a triumphant ring. ‘Katriona, meet Jeff and Gary Travers, who are supposed to be working for your father, Phil and Rozanne Perry who are managing Hope Valley station across the river, and Wade and Ryan from the Lewis station. Meet Katriona Carmichael, folks.’

Katriona forced herself to smile as they acknowledged the introduction. She wished Morgan had left her to be trampled to death by the cattle; it would have been a lot less painful and embarrassing than meeting the disconcerting stare of this group. Whether they were amused by her behaviour or amazed by the fact that Ross had a daughter she could not tell. She wanted to hit Morgan Grant, to jump off his horse, but it deemed such a long way down.

‘How did you get here, Katriona?’ Morgan demanded.

‘I came down that track behind the sheep yards. It was a bit rough ...’

‘That would be the understatement of the year,’ the tall blond Gary stated with an admiring laugh. ‘You did well to get this far. It must have been mighty important.’

‘I thought so at the time,’ Katriona admitted with a husky laugh. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye to Morgan. I’m sorry I messed up your work.’

Again it was Gary who spoke after the laughter died down. ‘I congratulate you, Morgan. No girl ever got that desperate to kiss me goodbye. Perhaps if I practised that fancy riding bit...’

‘It wouldn’t help you one bit,’ his brother informed him unkindly. ‘Come on, we’d better catch up with the cattle.’

Katriona was pleased to see them ride away. ‘You can put me down now. I’ll walk to the road.’

‘That would be extremely foolish. We hope to drive the cattle in that general direction and I don’t want to risk Somali again.’

‘Well, take your hands off me.’ She tried to push his arm from her waist.

‘Certainly.’ He grinned and dropped his hand, touching Somali lightly with a spur. As the grey horse bounded forward Katriona’s arms wrapped themselves convulsively around his neck and her slender body moulded itself against his. ‘Blood and sand.’

With expert skill Morgan controlled the plunging horse, his sinewy suntanned arm snaking around her waist, bringing with it a feeling of complete security and sheer bliss. She pretended not to hear his triumphant shout of laughter as she snuggled closer to him when the horse changed its pace to a smooth, almost pleasurable rocking motion.

She felt his lips against her hair, against her ear. ‘I’d have never reckoned you for a clinging vine, little Red.’

Katriona did not answer. For her, this moment was too precious to spoil with words.

Morgan
reined Somali to a halt and lowered Katriona to the ground as they reached the edge of Horseshoe Lake.

‘Are you there, Tim?’

Katriona saw a young man, standing by a jeep up on the edge of the main road, give Morgan an acknowledging wave.

‘Good. I’m sending Katriona up to you. Give her my sweater to put on—it’s in the jeep. We’ll have one more try to get these cattle up before dark. See you .. . and you, Katriona.’ Morgan galloped away.

That had been hours ago, thought Katriona wearily as she sat perched high on the stockyard’s wide top rail. It had been exciting, watching the hard riding which had finally succeeded in bringing the wild cattle out on to the road and up past the homestead to these yards. It had been interesting listening to Tim explaining that they were not the well-bred station cattle of Evangeline but that they belonged to Hope Valley where the mustering was still done on horseback. It was wild rugged country and these cattle had successfully eluded being mustered for years, and now the new young manager and his wife were having a real clean-up. She had learned a lot from Tim, but was not sure she understood it all. These cattle were called cleanskins because they had never been mustered and earmarked so they did not legally belong to anyone. They had broken away from the musterers and ended up on Evangeline, and it was closer to their yards than back to Hope Valley yards.

That much Katriona could understand easily. What she could not understand was why they all stood talking there for hours after they had yarded the cattle. It was obvious to her that the musterers, the horses and the dogs were bone weary and exhausted. From snatches of conversation which came to her she gathered that they had been riding since before sun-up, yet here they were enjoying a good yam as if they were not tired at all. The conversation wasn’t even about the cattle ... not all the time. It was of the weather, sheep sales, rodeos, but mostly about people. She was slow to realise that these people were from three different stations, and that although their boundaries touched the station people rarely met up, and when they did they really enjoyed catching up on the news.

It was a beautifully clear evening and the moon hung low in the sky above the mountains; the sky was starting to be pinpricked with stars. Along the river wild ducks flew low, and then a flock of small birds swooped into a tree above the stockyards twittering noisily enough to be heard over the bellowing of the cattle. Katriona heard different birds calling and the roar of a stag in the park. Most birds and animals were quietly settling down for the night ... and she had no place to go. She sighed deeply. They belonged here, they had a right to stay in this beautiful place, while she had no right at all ... her mother had forfeited that right even before Katriona was born.

For a moment she was almost overwhelmed with bitterness. Angrily she pushed the painful thoughts from her. How stupid she was to want to stay here. Why, she had not known this beautiful valley existed until a few hours ago, so it was childish of her to have this deep-down feeling that she could be happy here. But the feeling persisted and grew as she looked down the long sweep of the station cradled in the nest of the mountains. It had a wildness, a lonely beauty which caught at her heart, and one with which she could easily identify, as if she had inside her a homing device which zeroed in on this one spot in the whole world which said she belonged.

It was stupid, crazy, yet she knew that no matter how far she travelled, all her life through would be haunted by the might-have-been. She might have been born here ... she might have been a small girl growing up on the isolated station ... she might have been a spoiled and petted daughter of that tough old man up at the homestead. She might have been given a pony and a dog and a room of her own—and the last, most painful might-have-been of all... she might have been
loved
.

She shivered in spite of the glorious homespun warmth of Morgan’s sweater. The darkness had fallen swiftly and the wind felt cold against her cheeks. She touched her face, surprised to find it wet with tears. Angrily she brushed them away. What a baby she was, crying for the moon! She hugged the sweater about her, revelling in the man’s smell of it as much as its protection... the Morgan smell of it.

‘Are you going to stay up there all night?’ Katriona became conscious of the fact that the crowd had gone and Morgan was standing below her. ‘The boys have taken Somali for me, so I’ll take you home in the truck. Can you get down by yourself?’

‘Of course I can. What do you take me for?’ she replied indignantly as she moved stiffly to get down from the rails.

‘I take you for a very tired girl,’ Morgan answered gently. ‘Come along now.’ He put out his hand to help her over the rough ground.

Katriona brushed his offer of help aside brusquely. ‘Don’t pretend concern for me. You pushed me into that study on my own today. You’re a sadist! ’

Morgan laughed. 'Hey, it wasn’t that bad. You must have known it wouldn’t be an easy meeting for either of you, and later on you’ll be grateful to me for at least giving you some privacy.’

'I'll never be grateful to you, Morgan Grant! ’

He held the truck door open for her. ‘What you need is a hot bath, a good meal and a soft bed. Tomorrow things will look better.’

‘Great little old philosopher, aren’t you?’ Katriona spat the words out furiously. ‘You’re right, though ... tomorrow I’ll feel much better, because I won’t be within shouting distance of Evangeline. I hope you’re dog-tired and exhausted, and looking forward to your own hot bath, good meal and soft bed, because it will give me enormous satisfaction to keep you from them for a while. Your first job is to get my cases from the homestead, and the second is to drive me to a hotel in the nearest town ..

‘Come now, you’ve got yourself all upset. You poor wee thing ...’

‘Don’t you patronise me, you ... you monster! ’ Katriona glared up at Morgan. I’ve got myself upset, have I? That’s a laugh! You were the one who insisted I should come to this rotten place. You said my father wanted to see me. Well, you lied, Morgan Grant, you lied. Meeting me was the last thing he wanted to do. I know he’s just as upset by this whole silly business as I am, and I hope the first thing he does when he sees you is to send you packing!'

Morgan roared with laughter. ‘And you have the flaming nerve to accuse me of being a sadist! No hot bath, nothing to eat, no soft bed, and I get the sack on top of all that. You’re a proper little spitfire when you’re mad, aren’t you, little Red?’

‘And you can stop calling me Little Red!’ Katriona would never forgive him for laughing. ‘I’m glad the situation amuses you. Hurting people never appealed to my sense of humour.’

‘For the small economy pack you carry a powerful punch, Katriona Carmichael. I don’t think the situation is funny... just yourself. I think you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick, and you’re trying to beat me to death with it. There’s just no way that the boss would have been rude to you, or that he would have made you feel unwelcome. It’s not in him to be rude to a lady, more’s the pity.’

‘You like men who are rude to ladies?’

‘Only when the occasion demands it,’ Morgan answered calmly. ‘For instance, if you keep me standing here holding this door open for much longer you’re going to get a prime sample of just how rude I can be. I’ve been very patient, I’m very tired ... I’m covered in mud, and the wind is chilling me to the bone, so get in.
Now!'

Katriona flinched nervously as he raised his voice on the last word, but her chin lifted defiantly. ‘Not "until you promise me that you’ll take me to the nearest town straight away.’

Morgan reacted instantly; grabbing her by the shoulders he gave her a vigorous shake. ‘Your first lesson—don’t ever attempt to bargain with me. That goes for the first five minutes you’re here or for the next fifty years if you stay. I don’t trust women ... I don’t bargain with women ... they’re a poor lot at keeping bargains. Now, I’m going to get into this vehicle and drive home. If you want to travel with me, be seated by the time I get round my side of the truck. If you prefer to walk up there in the dark communing with nature or whatever, feel entirely free. I’m not forcing you either way.’

He shook her again and then let her go so abruptly that Katriona nearly fell. Oh, how she hated him! He was a great big bully ... and he was not bluffing. She could tell that he meant what he said and that if she did not get in quickly she would be left standing in the dark while he drove off. She climbed in and slammed the door as hard as she could. How could she have thought only such a short time ago that she could be happy on Evangeline? She must have been away with the fairies! No one could be happy with this arrogant brute throwing his weight around. She could not wait to get away.

Morgan maintained a stony silence all the way along to the house, which pleased Katriona. When they pulled up in the warm circle of light in front of the homestead, she tensed in her seat, her attractively fragile face set stubbornly.

Morgan sighed and ran his hand through his thick unruly hair. ‘Are you always as contrary as this, Katriona Carmichael, or are you making a special effort just for me?’

‘As contrary as what?’ Katriona demanded mutinously.

‘Ask a stupid question ...’ Morgan thrummed the steering wheel with impatient fingers. ‘Let me put it this way. I’m tired and I’m going inside to grab a shower, change and have my dinner. Now, I would feel a good deal more comfortable if you would join me ..

‘I don’t shower with men I hardly know,’ Katriona interjected flippantly.

‘I’m trying very hard to be polite and reasonable, but something tells me time is running out. There’s a limit to my control and you’re pushing it. I would like you to accompany me inside, have a wash and a meal and we’ll discuss the problem ...’

‘Whose problem?’

‘However,’ Morgan continued smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘if you prefer to sit out here in splendid isolation until I’m ready, that’s your choice.’

‘It
is
my choice,’ Katriona stated adamantly.

‘So be it.’ Morgan sounded tired as he unfolded his long length from the truck and walked up the path to the house, and disappeared without a
backward glance.

Katriona felt quite alone, frustrated, cold, hungry and very, very mad. She was not wanted here, so she would not stay. She would not go back inside the homestead and be humiliated by Morgan or her father. Morgan Grant was
impossible.
Just because he was tall and good-looking he thought he could always get his own way. Well, she had news for him! Strange how their personalities clashed, each encounter ending up in a
shower of sparks. Katriona had never wanted to scream and shout at any other man the way she did at Morgan. Perhaps she had never cared enough about winning out against any other man except Morgan. But she cared about Morgan Grant.