Chapter Thirteen
Cassie stood on the balcony of their suite, gazing out over the jumbled rooftops of London.
Though it was almost one o’clock in the morning it wasn’t quiet.
The noise of traffic drifted up from the streets below — the heavy grind of a refuse truck clearing the black rubbish bags from the shop doorways, occasional bursts of voices and laughter from late-night revellers.
They had reached London in record time.
Cassie could only hope that if they got stopped for speeding, Dougie would be able to use his Aussie charm to wheedle his way out of a ticket.
The London traffic didn’t faze him at all — he just ploughed his way through, though fortunately consenting to stop for traffic lights.
She might have guessed that he would book a suite at one of London’s most exclusive hotels, all Art Deco and immaculate staff.
She had barely had time to dump her bag when he had dragged her out to grab a bite to eat then called up an Uber to take them to the Tower of London.
He’d been fascinated by everything, listening avidly to the yeoman who conducted their tour with tales of imprisonments and executions, gawping at the Crown Jewels, admiring the sleek, glossy ravens.
And, of course, his favourite was the armoury, particularly the chance to draw a real longbow.
Then they’d walked down to the riverside, and he’d been as excited as a five-year-old kid when the huge bascules that carried the road across Tower Bridge had risen to let a tall sailing barge through.
How could you not love a man like that?
They’d arrived back at the hotel with time for a quick shower and change of clothes before dinner.
Fortunately Cassie had found a pair of smart black trousers among the things hanging in her old wardrobe, and a nice black-and-white silk top, so she hadn’t felt too out of place in the opulent restaurant.
The dinner had lived up to the promise of their surroundings.
Cassie had wild mushrooms with rosemary and pine nuts, followed by a delicious tagine of lamb cutlets with cumin and tomatoes.
She had watched in amusement as Dougie had demolished a large steak.
He asked for it “still on the hoof, mate,” and that was what he had got.
“That looks good,” she had remarked, laughing.
“It’s bonzer! Yours okay?”
“Bonzer,” she concurred.
Now Dougie was still down in the bar, having encountered a couple of fellow Aussies — he’d probably be there for a couple of hours yet, then still be able to wake full of energy to continue their sightseeing in the morning.
But she hadn’t been able to sleep.
After tossing restlessly for a while she had slipped out of bed, pulled on the hotel’s plush robe, and come out onto the balcony to see if a little fresh air would help.
There was quite a view from up here.
In the distance, the jagged geometric shapes of the City’s business fortresses were lit up against the ink-dark sky.
A little further to the right, the great circle of the London Eye glowed an eerie purple.
She’d only been to London once, on a school trip.
They’d visited the British Museum and the Tate Gallery, neither of which she had found particularly interesting.
They’d stayed in a Youth Hostel, sleeping in dormitories on metal bunk beds with thin, hard mattresses.
She’d known then that she could never live in a city.
Millions of people, millions of buildings — though she was high above it, it gave her a kind of claustrophobia.
She needed air, space, the wide never-ending sea.
Her mind went back to her conversation with Dougie over dinner.
“I’m thinking of opening a new ski resort up at Ruapehu. That’s why I came over to London — to talk to a few people about marketing. Jimmy’s going to manage it — and I want you to take over as manager at Te Awaiti.”
“Manager?”
“Sure. You’d be great. You know the business, you’re great with people. What do you say?”
“I . . . I’d have to think about it. There’s my work visa . . .”
“You could apply for permanent residency. Even New Zealand citizenship.”
She hesitated, moving a mushroom around her plate with her fork.
“Yes, I suppose I could. I don’t know . . .”
It was tempting.
Dougie was an excellent boss — he paid well, and he was prone to throw parties or surprise his staff with treats.
He didn’t interfere or try to micromanage, but he would always back you up if you needed it.
Yes, it was tempting.
Standing on the balcony with the hotel’s dressing gown wrapped around her, she tried to convince herself that she would be a fool to pass up such a fantastic offer.
She loved New Zealand, with its stunning scenery and its warm, friendly people.
But it wasn’t home.
Sturcombe was home.
Quiet, pretty Sturcombe, which she had spent the first eighteen years of her life longing to escape from.
Since she had come back, it had become harder and harder to think about leaving again.
The sky was inky dark, the stars dimmed by the competing light of the street lamps.
A crescent moon hung low over the roofs of the great metropolis like something out of a children’s story book.
She could almost imagine Mary Poppins sailing past under her umbrella.
The same moon would be hanging over Sturcombe.
Would Liam be looking up at it right now?
Maybe just fleetingly thinking of her?
Of how they used to walk on the beach beside the tranquil water of the bay, the waves whispering over the sand, a soft warm breeze drifting in to ruffle their hair.
With a small sigh she turned and walked back into the suite.
Her return ticket was dated for two weeks’ time, and she still hadn’t made up her mind whether she was going to use it.
But whether she stayed or left, she couldn’t add Liam into the equation.
* * *
“There.” Liam closed the book.
“Wasn’t Bets clever to work out where the stolen necklace was hidden?” He smiled down at his little daughter, tucked up beneath her pink duvet.
She was growing — soon she was going to need a bigger bed.
“She’s the very cleverest of all of them.”
“She is. And it’s off to sleep for you now.”
“Mmm . . .” She snuggled down under the pink duvet.
“Daddy, Noah said Auntie Cassie has gone away. Why did she go away?”
He hesitated, forcing his voice past the catch in his throat.
“I expect she’s gone on holiday, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” Her little lower lip was trembling.
“She didn’t say bye-bye to me.”
“She probably didn’t have time.” Oh dear.
He had been afraid of this.
“She would have had to pack her case and find her passport, and then it would be a long drive to the airport to catch the aeroplane.”
“Will she be gone for long?”
“I don’t know,” he responded gently.
“A while, I expect.”
“Oh.” The small frown furrowing the child’s forehead told him that another question was coming — anything from why the sun was hot to whether dinosaurs had names.
Instead: “Daddy, who was that lady who came yesterday. Was she your friend?”
“Well, sort of. She’s . . . someone I met.”
“She had nice hair,” Robyn conceded judiciously.
“But she wasn’t as pretty as Auntie Julia. Or Auntie Debbie. Or Auntie Cassie.”
“Probably not.” Ah, the subjective assessment of a five-year-old child!
“Now give Daddy a kiss and close your eyes. Time for Robyn’s sleepy-byes.”
The child puckered up her sweet pink mouth and planted a kiss on his cheek as he bent over her, then obediently closed her eyes.
In a few moments, her deep, level breathing told him that she had fallen asleep.
He envied her the ability to do that.
He usually didn’t have much trouble sleeping, but last night he had lain awake for a long time, even though he had been tired after his long day — thinking about Cassie.
About the gamine teenager she had been, the woman she had become.
What might have been, if he’d been able to persuade her to stay?
Would she have been happy?
Could they have made a future together?
But there was no point thinking about it.
She’d gone, as he had assumed she would.
Sooner than he had expected — clearly the lure of adventure, of Australia, of an Australian who looked like a Greek god, had been strong.
He crept quietly from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Outside he paused for a moment, listening to be sure that Robyn was settled.
The soft sound of her breathing assured him.
He nodded and walked down the stairs.
A cup of coffee and a good book — with his fingers crossed that there would be no emergency calls.
* * *
The ‘shindig’ was a fabulous affair.
Dinner was served in the Art Deco dining room — a starter of Jerusalem artichokes with crème fraiche and bronze fennel, followed by tender breast of duck with apricot and lavender, and a stunning desert of chestnut truffle with caramelised pear and rum.
There followed a charity auction.
Dougie bid enthusiastically for several items.
“Why on earth do you want that?” Cassie murmured as he bid for a football signed by the Chelsea football team.
“Why not?” he countered, grinning.
“It’ll look great in my trophy room.”
She laughed, shaking her head.
He didn’t win the bid, nor did he for the golf lessons he wouldn’t have been able to take up.
Anyway, he had never shown the slightest inclination to play golf.
He did win the right to have his name used for a character in a children’s book, which he thought was hilarious, especially when he found out that the character was a cowardly dragon.
After the auction, there was dancing.
She felt like a million dollars, twirling around the floor with him.
He was a surprisingly good dancer for such a big man, and he looked superb in his immaculately tailored dinner jacket, his blond hair gleaming in the light from the ornate chandeliers swinging from the high ceiling.
She couldn’t help but notice how much attention he was attracting from many of the women in the room.
If she wasn’t with him, she was quite sure that one of them would have been accompanying him up to his room later.
* * *
Two days later she saw him off from Heathrow.
“Are you sure you won’t come back with me?” he asked as they strolled across the concourse to the check-in desk.
She shook her head.
“I promised to stay for Tom and Vicky’s wedding. Besides, I haven’t got my passport with me.”
Had that been a deliberate omission, to ensure that she wasn’t lured into making a decision by spending five days in his charismatic company?
“Well, I’ll be hoping to see you soon.” He swept her into one of his giant bear hugs and kissed her cheek.
Then with a wave he was off towards the fast-track security gate.
He had already spotted a very attractive blonde heading the same way, and in moments he had eased up beside her.
Cassie laughed, turned away, and headed for the train station and home.
* * *
Liam liked picking Robyn up from school whenever he could.
It wasn’t just the joy of seeing her little face light up as she spotted him waiting at the gate, it also brought back so many happy memories from the years when he had attended Fowey Road Primary School himself.
On his first day in the pre-school class — almost thirty years ago — he had met Tom Cullen and Paul Channing, and the three of them had bonded over a wooden construction set.
They’d been best mates ever since.
They’d been in their final year when Paul’s mum had come back to teach there.
She hadn’t taught their class, but Paul had come in for a lot of ribbing about it.
One or two had even tried bullying him.
Paul could have dealt with that on his own, but with his two friends beside him, the bullies had never stood a chance .
.
.
“Yes, he’s got a touch of arthritis, but he loves a little walk. And he’s a very good boy, aren’t you, Barney?”
Liam caught his breath sharply at the sound of that voice.
Cassie ?
But .
.
.
If he’d had any thought of avoiding her, Hobo had other ideas, dragging him across so he could greet the little terrier in traditional canine fashion, the two of them quickly twisting their leads as they circled around, each with their nose to the other’s rear end.
Cassie laughed a little unsteadily as she untangled them.
“Oh . . . hello.”
“Hello.” His jaw felt taut.
“You’re back.” Oh, great.
How’s that for stating the bleeding obvious?
“Looks like it.” She sounded just as tense.
“I thought you were going back to Australia?”
“New Zealand. No, well not yet anyway.”
Damn, what a stilted conversation!
At Debbie and Bill’s wedding it had seemed that they were at last beginning to be a little easier with each other.
And then Annabel had shown up.
Cassie was wearing slim-fitting jeans which moulded those long, elegant legs, and a sleeveless white T-shirt.
And the subjective assessment of a grown man was that she looked pretty damn good.
“You’re staying for Tom’s wedding?”
“Oh, yes. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” Her smiled looked forced.
“The chance to see Tom Cullen all done up in his best smutter? Priceless!”
He managed a laugh.
“Yes, it will be.” A long, awkward pause.
He suspected that she was struggling as much as he was to find a topic of conversation that wouldn’t poke at tender spots.
“How’s this lad?” he asked, hunkering down to tickle the little terrier’s favourite spot behind his ears.
“He’s doing well. He’s just been for a walk on the beach. Even managed to chase a seagull. You’d think at his age he’d have learned that he’s never going to catch one.”
“Oh, they never learn that. They always keep hoping that one day it’ll happen!”
She laughed at that, a little awkwardly.
“How’s that horse I saw you riding on the beach?”
“The Bandit? He’s fine. He’s gone back to his training yard.”
“He was beautiful.” The smile seemed more relaxed, and there was a real warmth in her voice.
“The way he moved — so graceful. What was wrong with him?”
“He’d torn a tendon. We gave him a carbon fibre implant.”
“Will he be able to race again?”
“He has a very good chance.”
“That’s good.” Another hesitation.
“Do you still have Missie?”
“Of course. Though maybe it would be more polite to call her Missus now — she’s had two foals.”
“Oh, that’s fabulous.” Her eyes glowed with warmth.
“I used to love that horse.”
“Why don’t you come over and visit her?” He spoke before he had really considered his words.
“Julia rides her sometimes, but she’d be happy for you to take her out.”
“I’d love to.” Her face lit up.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Whatever impulse had prompted him to invite her, he was glad now that he had.
“She can be a bit lazy, so it’s good to have her ridden on a regular basis.” He smiled.
“Come over tomorrow. Around ten?”
“That would be great! Thank you.”
“Ah.” The school bell had rung.
“Brace yourself.”
A few moments later the doors opened and a tide of small children flooded out, chattering and squealing excitedly, some of them running around playing chase, others heading straight for the waiting cluster of parents.
“Daddy!” Robyn came hurtling across the playground, clutching a piece of drawing paper.
She threw herself against him, hugging his legs.
“An’ Auntie Cassie.” Her bottom lip came out.
“You wented away,” she accused.
“I did.” She smiled down at the child.
“But I came back.”
“Where did you go?”
“To London.”
“We wented to London once. We wented on a big wheel that went round and round and round and you could see for miles and miles. And Daddy got a prize.”
“Oh?” She slanted him a questioning glance.
“It wasn’t just for me. It was for the Horse Rescue Society.”
“Oh, well done.”
“Thank you.”
“I drawed a picture of my pony,” Robyn announced proudly, waving the paper in her hand.
The brown splodge with four legs in a row, a head and a tail was reasonably recognisable as a pony.
It stood on a swathe of green — obviously grass — with a round yellow sun beaming down.
“Ah, that’s very good,” Cassie approved.
“What’s your pony called?”
“Biscuit.”
“Biscuit?” She seemed to be having difficulty suppressing a laugh.
“That’s a good name for a pony. Why is he called Biscuit?”
“Because he’s the colour of a biscuit.” The child spread her hands out, patiently stating the obvious as Cassie exchanged a glance of amusement with Liam.
“Ah, here are my two.” Amy and Noah had appeared at the door, their eyes lighting up when they saw Cassie.
“Auntie Cassie!” Amy ran up, smiling shyly, and slid her small hand into hers.
She held up her picture.
“I drawed a picture of my mummy getting married.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. How about you, Noah?”
“I drawed Superman!”
Cassie laughed.
“Of course you did. Come on then, let’s go home for tea.”
“We’re just waiting for Ben,” Liam explained.
“Oh . . . Right. Well . . . um . . . I’ll see you tomorrow. Ten o’clock.”
He nodded.
“Ten o’clock.”
* * *
Was this really a good idea?
Cassie had her doubts.
She argued with herself all the way as she walked down the hill and along the Esplanade, through the Memorial Gardens and past the hotel.
But the temptation was too great to resist.
And not just the chance to ride Missie again.
Beyond the hotel was a low stone wall surrounding a paved front yard, with a wooden table and chairs and a few half-barrel tubs filled with flowers.
To one side was the house, a rambling, quirky, ivy-clad L-shaped cottage built of the local grey stone.
It had once been three cottages, but they had been knocked together many years ago.
The roofline was a jumble of square chimneys and dormers, every window being a different size and a different level.
To the side of the yard was a tall wooden gate that led into the stable yard at the back of the house, with a sturdy brick-built stable block around two sides.
Only a couple of the stalls were occupied.
The rest of the horses were in a large paddock at the far end, and she recognised Missie at once — a beautiful bay with a white blaze down her nose and one slightly crooked ear.
Cassie called her name softly, and to her delight, the horse seemed to recognise her and trotted over.
“Well, hello there. Yes, I remembered the polo mints.” She held one out on the palm of her hand, and with a little whicker, the gentle mare took it from her and looked for another one.
Cassie laughed.
“Still as greedy as ever.”
“You got that right.”
She took a moment to compose herself, stroking the horse’s sleek neck, then turned with a bright smile.
“Hi. Are you coming out too?”
“I need to see how Hector up at the end there is doing. He’s had a bad dose of pneumonia and I had to do a thoracotomy to clear it up. Do you want a hand to saddle her up?”
“No. I can manage, thanks.”
She opened the gate and Missie walked through, following her across the yard to the tack room.
By the time she had her saddled up Liam was ready, mounted on a handsome bay.
“He’s a fine-looking lad.”
“He is.” Liam patted the bay’s neck.
“He’s coming along well. He should be able to go home in a few days.”
“That’s good.” She led Missie over to the mounting block and swung herself up into the saddle.
She immediately felt comfortable — the big mare’s gait was smooth, her ears relaxed, showing that she too felt comfortable.
They rode out of the gate and turned along the South West Coast Path.
To their right was a large field, bright with buttercups, where a dozen horses, several ponies and four donkeys were grazing peacefully.
“That big roan is Luke’s,” Liam pointed out.
“The chestnut is my dad’s. And that beautiful black mare is mine.” There was a world of pride in his voice.
“Gitana — Spanish for gypsy.”
“It suits her.”
The horse had seen him and trotted over to the fence, whickering.
“Yes, okay. It’ll be your turn tomorrow,” he promised, stroking her nose.
“It’s Hector’s turn today.”
Cassie laughed.
“She really is beautiful. And very intelligent. And I’d guess that’s Robyn’s Biscuit?” The shaggy-maned Shetland was happily grazing at the side of the field.
“That’s right.”
“I love that she called him Biscuit. I bet she’s a good little rider.”
“She is.” The warmth in his voice conveyed his love for his small daughter.
“And those others — they’re from the Rescue Society?”
“Most of them.”
She could see that several of the animals looked badly out of condition, their ribs and hip bones visible, their coats dull and ragged.
“It’s so sad to see them like that, but good to know that they’re being cared for now. How many are you looking after?”
“We’ve got fourteen rescues here at the moment, and a few dozen more living out in foster homes, as well as the ponies and donkeys.”
“It’s grown a lot since I went away.”
“Unfortunately, the need’s grown.”
“It must cost a fortune to run.”
“We get support from donors and charities, and we do some fundraising ourselves. And we have a GoFundMe site attached to the website.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“It is.” He smiled, his eyes warm as he glanced back over his shoulder at the herd contentedly cropping the lush grass.
“But it’s worth it.”
Cassie watched him silently.
This was his life’s work — his whole heart was in it.
He would never have left it to travel the world with her ten years ago, and he would never leave it now.
They had been trotting along the path as they talked, past the golf course.
Now there was farmland rolling away to their right, while to their left the sea was glittering beneath the high blue sky.
Sturcombe nestled in the dip of the hills, the houses jumbled up the slope like children’s toys.
The Esplanade, with its amusement arcade and ice-cream parlour and Kate Rowley’s cosy café, skirted the red-gold sweep of the beach, while across on the far side of the bay she could see the rising line of the houses on Cliff Road.
Home.
New Zealand might have stunning scenery, loads of exciting things to do, but it could never truly be home.
There were several parties of walkers on the footpath that ran alongside the bridleway — serious hikers with poles and stout walking shoes, casual strollers in shorts and sandals.
They greeted each other with smiles and remarks on the weather.
Several dogs were running around, chasing each other or sniffing along the hedges, but neither Hector nor Missie seemed bothered by them.
“Have you had much chance to ride these past few years?” Liam asked.
She nodded, smiling.
“I worked on a dude ranch in Montana for a while. That was really fun, taking care of the horses and escorting trekking parties. They all thought my English accent was ‘real cute’.”
“Sounds good.”
“It was. I really enjoyed working at the water-sports centre in Florida, but I only had a year left on my work visa and I really wanted to see more of the country. So I lined up the job in Montana, and teamed up with another girl to hire a car and drive there, taking in a few other places on the way.”
“Oh?”
“We drove up to Washington and New York. We stayed there for a couple of days. Then we headed south again to New Orleans and through Texas to visit the Mission Control Centre in Houston.”
“I bet young Noah was excited to hear about that.”
“He was. You can see the spacecraft and the astronauts’ suits, and even touch a bit of moon rock! And you can visit the room where they controlled the moon landings, with all the old computers they used. It was incredible to think that they were able to do that, all those years ago. Then we drove on to the Grand Canyon.”
“It must have been a very long drive.”
“It was, but we shared the driving. And those big American cars are very comfortable. We hired a Chrysler. Once you got used to it, it was a doddle.”
He nodded.
“So you visited the Grand Canyon? Very Thelma and Louise.”
She laughed.
“Well, except for the robbery at the grocery store, and blowing up the oil tanker. And we didn’t meet Brad Pitt. But it’s the most amazing place — so vast, and all the rock formations and different colours. And there’s a skywalk, where you can walk out literally over nothing. It’s got a glass floor, and you can look down four thousand feet to the river. It’s mind-boggling.”
“I can imagine.”
“It was only a short drive from there to Monument Valley, where they made all the cowboy films. Rhona was going on to California, so we parted company there. She caught a Greyhound bus and I took the car the rest of the way up to Montana.”
* * *
Liam listened with mixed feelings to Cassie’s story.
It was interesting, and clear that she’d had a wonderful time, fulfilling all the things she had dreamed of.
Yes, she had been right to go.
But after all her adventures it seemed very unlikely that she would be content to stay here in sleepy Sturcombe.
There was Tom and Vicky’s wedding, and after that she would be gone again.
“Montana is just incredible. It’s called the Big Sky Country, and that’s certainly true. The sky is so blue, you wouldn’t believe. And the mountains, the lakes, the green valleys full of pine trees. In the winter it gets seriously cold, well below freezing, and there’s deep snow right through from September to March. I learned to ski, or we’d go snow-shoe trekking. It’s so peaceful with all that snow on the ground.”
“And you got to ride horses?”
“Of course. In the summer we’d take parties of guests out trail riding. There wasn’t so much of that in the winter, of course, but we still had guests and the horses still needed to be looked after. And we ran natural horsemanship courses, teaching people how to train their horses through gentle cooperation.”
He laughed dryly.
“We could do with some of that here. Maybe then we wouldn’t have so many horses wind up in rescue centres. So how long did you work there?”
“About a year. Then my US work visa was due to expire, so unless I was lucky enough to get a Green Card, I was going to have to leave. The cousin of the guy who owned the ranch owned a water-sports and safari outfit in Tanzania. I really wanted to see the Victoria Falls and the Serengeti, so he put me in touch with him and he offered me a job.”
“Lucky.”
“It was — perfect.”
* * *
Missie had taken exception to an empty crisp packet blowing along the path, prancing around like a diva, and for a moment Cassie had to give all her attention to settling her.
“How’s Hector doing?” she asked.
“He seems fine. Try a canter?”
She laughed merrily.
“I thought you’d never ask!”
The two horses seemed very happy to pick up their pace.
It was exhilarating, moving smoothly with the horse’s rhythm — but more than that, it brought back so many memories of riding with Liam back in the day.
Was he remembering too?
He had invited her to come riding — what was he thinking now?
They rounded the headland and rode along the clifftop for about half an hour, alternately trotting and cantering.
Then Liam reined Hector in to a walk as they reached the end of the bridleway.
The footpath here dropped down quite steeply to the estuary below, so steeply that in places there were steps.
“That was pretty good.” He leaned forward and patted Hector’s sleek neck.
“Did you enjoy that, boy?” he asked the horse.
The animal tossed his head as if nodding in agreement, and Cassie laughed.
“He’s breathing okay?” she asked.
Liam nodded.
“Absolutely fine. Shall we head back?”
“If you like.”
“So go on,” he urged as they turned their horses’ heads back towards Sturcombe.
“Tell me about Tanzania.”
“Oh, that was just amazing. If Montana is Big Sky Country, the Serengeti is even more so. Miles and miles of open grassland, and huge herds of wildebeests and antelopes. And the skies are just incredible, especially in the rainy season.”
“You got to see the big game?”
“Of course. Elephants and giraffes, zebras, hippos, lions and cheetahs. Sometimes you could get up quite close to them, if you were very careful. And if you were lucky, you could see a cheetah hunting a gazelle.”
“Was there a problem with poachers?”
“Always.” Her mouth thinned.
“The rangers are really brave, the way they go after them — poachers wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. And sometimes the animals come into competition with the farmers over the land. Not really surprising — both are just trying to survive. I climbed Kilimanjaro to help raise money for a wildlife reservation.”
“How did you meet your Australian friend?”
She slanted him a quick look from beneath her lashes.
Was there a note of constraint in his voice?
“Dougie? He was on the Kilimanjaro climb with me, and a couple of his lads from the Kalagooly resort. They were raising money for conservation work along the Great Barrier Reef. He offered me a job at one of his resorts — he owns three along the coast of Queensland, and one in New Zealand. I checked them out on the ’net and they looked amazing, so I decided to take him up on it.”
“He seems like . . . quite a guy.”
“He is.” She didn’t trouble to suppress the warmth in her voice.
Let him make of it what he would.
“And a great boss. Really generous, and never one to set himself apart. Unless anyone takes him for a soft touch — then they pretty soon find out their mistake.”
“So you moved to Australia?”
She nodded.
“It was always my dream. Diving on the Great Barrier Reef is just out of this world. There are so many types of fish and coral.”
“And sharks?”
“Oh yes, some of those too.” She laughed.
“Though most of the ones around the reef are pretty harmless — wobbegongs and white tips.”
“Wobbegongs?” Now he laughed too.
“You’re kidding!”
“No, really, that’s what they’re called. In the local Aboriginal language it means shaggy beard. They have whiskers around their mouths, which help them sense fish that come too close. They’re pretty stupid looking, and they tend to just lie around on the sandy bottom. They’re often called carpet sharks.”
“They’re not dangerous?”
“Not if you don’t get too close. Anyway, most shark attacks happen further south, around New South Wales, or over on the West coast. Even then, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning or be killed by fireworks.”
“That’s good to know,” he conceded dryly.
Sturcombe had come into view again.
They rode down the gentle slope and into the stable yard.
“Ah, that was good.” Cassie smiled as she dismounted.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll deal with Missie,” Liam offered.
“No, it’s fine. I always take care of my own mount. It’s a habit.”
He nodded, smiling.
“A very good habit. Do you remember where everything is?”
“I think so.”
She unfastened the girth and lifted off the saddle, carried it into the tack room and wiped it off.
Then she removed the bridle, rinsed the bit under the yard tap and hung it up on one of the hooks along the back wall.
Then she filled a bucket and sponged Missie down lightly, checking for any rubs or chafing, and ran her hands down her legs, finally picking up each foot to check her hoofs and pick out bits of compacted mud.
When she was finished, she led the mare over to the trough and let her take a drink before letting her through the five-barred gate into the grassy paddock behind the house.
The horse whickered and trotted off happily to join her friends.
* * *
Liam had watched Cassie with Missie as she had ridden beside him.
He had been confident that she knew what she was doing.
She’d always been a good rider — her hands relaxed, her seat easy in the saddle.
And Missie had seemed quite happy.
Like many horses, she was inclined to fidget and try to assert herself if she didn’t respect the person riding her.
Okay, he had just wanted to watch her.
She was graceful and efficient in her movements — and that neat backside in those well-fitting jeans would make any red-blooded male’s pulse rate soar.
For the past week and a half the memory of holding her in his arms as they had danced at Debbie and Bill’s wedding had haunted his dreams — and had too often intruded when he was awake.
That slender, supple body, the subtle fragrance she wore .
.
.
Those memories would linger long after she was gone.
She had just let Missie through the gate into the paddock, and turned as he brought Hector up.
“Well . . . Goodbye.” She smiled — he did like that smile.
“Um . . . Thanks for letting me ride her again. I really enjoyed it.”
“That’s okay. Missie enjoyed it too.” Somehow he managed to push the words past the tension in his throat.
“I’ll see you on Saturday then.”
“Oh yes, of course. See you then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”