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She felt her cheeks flame as she jumped from the truck. He had been fully aware of her every movement coming up the mountainside ... her every thought. Her small gesture of friendship, her studying his face in detail and her longing to touch him. Angrily she pulled the gate open. Touch him? She would rather touch a cobra! Morgan was as creepy as a snake and twice as deadly.

He drove the truck through, steering it closer and closer to her, trying to make her give ground. She knew he had plenty of room, that he was trying to frighten her, just teasing. She would not move an inch. He could run over her if he liked. The mudguard almost touched her, and she glared at him, finding only his derisive smile and mischief-lit grey eyes laughing at her.

She ignored him.

He stopped the truck before it was completely through the gateway which prevented her from shutting the gate.

She looked at him disapprovingly, and he laughed out loud at her. But he did not move the truck. He was waiting for her to ask him. He would wait a long time. She knew he was watching her in the rear vision mirror, so she leaned against the gate, her free hand on her hip in an apparently relaxed attitude. Relaxed she was not. She would like to murder him. Ignoring her for days on end, then yelling at her, then kissing her as if he almost meant it, then not talking to her coming up the mountain and worse, much worse, knowing why she closed her eyes.

Giving him a very superior glance she said scathingly, ‘You’re being very childish and immature.’

He threw back his head and laughed, a great shout of laughter.

That did it. Katriona abandoned the gate and using the rear wheel climbed up on the deck of the truck and started to let his team of dogs out one by one. As she loosed the second dog Morgan jerked the truck forward and she flattened out on the deck. She wasn’t hurt, but she was smiling as she dropped nimbly to the ground and closed the gate. She sat smiling as he caught his dogs.

She faced him squarely as he got into the truck, the light of battle still in her eyes and a victor’s smile on her lips. She had beaten him. Oh, such a tiny victory, but sweet nonetheless.

He leaned over and ruffled her hair. 'You're Ross Carmichael’s daughter all right. The man who marries you won’t be looking for the quiet life.’

‘You’re indeed fortunate that it’s not your problem.’

‘I am indeed.’ Morgan whistled cheerfully as he drove along the fence line towards the summit. ‘If you climb out and walk to that rock you’ll get a good view.’

She stepped up by the rock at the very top of the mountain and took a deep breath, and held it... unable to let it go, caught by the soul-stirring beauty of the scene before her, the blue sky, the mountains and the valleys, the fields, lakes, rivers spread out unendingly before her incredulous eyes. A sudden gust of wind swept her off balance and she grabbed for the rock and let her breath out slowly as she straightened up. This time she braced herself against the force of the wind.

This time she remembered to keep breathing, but quietly, slowly, as awestruck her gaze wandered from craggy mountain peak to the floor of the valley below. Away to her right in the distance, where the blue Hope River flowed between the towering bluffs and open country, she could see a tiny miniature village. It was Hanmer, miles and miles away, just a dot on the landscape. Strange, she should be feeling small standing there on the summit, but she did not. She somehow felt grand and mighty as if she was almost part of it all.

The wind kept pushing her ... but she even felt at one with the wild wind too, as it swept up over the glorious golden tussock, moving it in fantastic flowing waves rippling over her and past her. The song of the wind became the song in her heart, superb music, divine music. The thrilling harmony swelled and swelled filling her mind, body and soul until she could hardly bear the aching sweetness of it all.

‘See the deer on the other ridge.’ Morgan spoke softly.

She looked across at the hill near her and saw several deer standing among the small rocks and matagouri bushes, and their hill too was a
golden flowing mass of yellow tussock. They stood alert and wary, yet not frightened, then delicately picked their way around the shoulder of the hill and out of sight.

Morgan spoke again. ‘Do you like what you see?’

‘Oh, it’s beautiful... beautiful... I haven’t the words ... It’s like being on the roof of the world. This must be what God saw when he made the world and was pleased that it was excellent in every way.'

‘Yes, you can feel that up here.’

She turned to look at him to see if he was sincere, and was reassured. His grey eyes regarded her intently as if he knew how she felt, and had felt that way too. There was no anger in his eyes, and no laughter, just a quiet understanding and something else. She rested her slim hand on his arm lightly as her mind tried to accept what she saw there, a tenderness, a kindness and a lovingness that was too much for her. She turned away from that look, not ready to believe it.

The panorama stretched out before her again and she felt she could stand there for ever and ever and still not see it all.

This must be why Nivvy said high-country men were different. She had only been on the tops this once, and she felt lifted up with the joy of it, yet at peace with herself. Men of the mountains came here again and again and refreshed themselves, looking down on the valleys and level with the mountains. No wonder they walked tall, and with confidence, and had those steady far-seeing eyes.

She knew that Morgan was holding her hand, that he had carried it to his lips, that he was holding it against his rough cheek. Wordlessly she looked at him and accepted the love he offered and gave him her heart in return.

Now the wind sighed softly over the tussock caressing it lightly, moving it tenderly into intricate and exotic patterns. Katriona felt attuned to die mood of the wind as it touched her cheeks and lovingly swept through her hair and over her body. The music in her heart changed also to such a hauntingly exquisite air that she felt the tears running down her face.

Morgan Grant loved her. She would never leave Evangeline. She could live here ... she could range free ... because Morgan Grant loved her.

Just as suddenly the wind changed again, growing stronger and stronger, buffeting her body, forcing her back a step, then another step, even though she braced herself against it. The wind blew wilder and wilder, the song louder and louder, exulting, pulsating and vibrant, reaching an impassioned crescendo as it swept her backwards into Morgan’s waiting arms. Even the wind knew they belonged together, was Katriona’s last clear thought as Morgan’s lips claimed hers again.

When at last he lifted his head she asked with stricken eyes, ‘Morgan, what about Carla? She told me you were going to marry her.’

‘I told you Carla always lies,’ Morgan said with an outrageous grin.

The sheer enormity of the statement took her breath away. She knew he had said something the same down by the lake, but she had been so upset that she had not believed him. Only his anger had registered. And he had said' she wasn’t like her mother at all. She sat beside him in a sunlit, sheltered hollow on the mountain, fascinated that she fitted as comfortably against him as Amber had to Tay ... it did not take years. Shyly she tilted her face towards his, wordlessly demanding another kiss, and his response was satisfyingly swift and ardent. Would she ever get used to the wonder of it?

‘My mother ...’ she began, then faltered, needing time to put her thoughts into words. ‘Morgan, I think I can understand my mother a little ... It suddenly came to me that I could have reacted much the same as her in similar circumstances ...’

‘Never.’ His reply was emphatic.

Katriona persisted. ‘I could have killed someone that day I drove your Mustang. Say I’d driven into Tay and Amber and killed them, or you’d attempted to save them and I’d run over you and crippled you ... could I have stayed and faced the consequences? I doubt it.’

‘You would have,’ Morgan assured her. ‘But I agree with you. Perhaps your mother has carried more blame than she should have. It was something Ross said after you had that upset. He asked who was really to blame—the driver? The person who gave the incompetent driver permission to drive? I thought about it a lot, applying it to the accident when my parents were killed. Should Ross have let your mother drive? Who knows, who cares? That accident wrecked their lives, but I have no intention of allowing it to wreck ours.’

‘Thank you for sharing those thoughts with me, Morgan,’ Katriona said quietly. ‘It’s lifted that awful load of guilt I was almost staggering under. As for who cares ... I do. My mother crippled Ross physically, but she did worse to herself. She became an emotional cripple, unable to face herself and what she did, unable to love anyone, always running away. I can feel sorry for her ... I would like to love her, if she’ll let me. She had all this and she lost it.’

‘You’re in danger of doing the same thing unless you devote some of your time and love to me this very instant,’ Morgan told her flatly.

‘How much time? How much love?’ Katriona teased, then laughing, ‘You can have all my love, all my time, for all my life ... Does that satisfy you?’

‘It will do for starters,’ Morgan replied, gathering her into his embrace.