Australia: In Bed with a King

When they moved into the dining room, she was expecting to be placed next to Elizabeth. It was disconcerting—the purpose of her being here thrown out of kilter again—when she and Sam were directed to flank Nathan at the end of the table with Tommy and Jared on either side of their mother.

A balanced table…Tommy’s comment flitted through Miranda’s mind, yet it didn’t feel right to her. The three King brothers and Sam shared a long familiarity. She was the outsider, placed in their midst but not a part of them, and that feeling deepened as dinner progressed and the others talked of people and events she had no knowledge of.

This was a world that was closed to her, she kept thinking, and she would never belong to it. Somehow she would have to stifle the feelings Nathan stirred in her. As it was, being seated so close to him was a nagging torment. Every movement he made, every word he said, burned more brightly on her consciousness than anything else.

When Jared started asking questions about her experience in the hospitality business in the city, compared to the situation she was handling now, she responded eagerly to his interest, welcoming a conversation that took her mind off Nathan. Tommy moved the topic onto tourism, and Sam brought up comments from her parents who were currently touring Argentina.

“What about your family, Miranda?” Nathan suddenly inserted, making her heart leap and her head jerk towards him.

He offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re in the midst of ours. Sam’s been rattling on about hers. I guess it’s made you feel a bit homesick for yours.”

“Not at all,” she denied, confusion whirling through her mind again. Why was he asking? She’d told him she didn’t belong anywhere. Despite the smile, his eyes seemed to be gleaming with purpose.

“Well, no doubt they’ll be coming to visit you,” Jared suggested.

Shaken by Nathan’s unexpected and forceful focus on her, Miranda was slow to respond to his brother.

Sam leapt in. “Have you got any scrumptious bachelor brothers that might drop in?” she asked, picking up the ball she’d been playing against Tommy all night.

“No,” Miranda answered with what she hoped was discouraging brevity.

“Sensational sisters?” Tommy countered.

“I have no family,” she stated bluntly, cornered into revealing that much.

Sam goggled at her. “You were an orphan?”

How could she stop this rolling inquisition? “I wasn’t as a child. I simply have no family now,” she said with emphatic finality.

“You mean they were all wiped out in some terrible accident?”

“Sam,” Nathan cut in tersely, his frown chastising her for avid curiosity, which might lead into painful areas.

“Sorry!” She grimaced an apology. “Guess I’ve drunk too much champagne.” Her eyes appealed to Miranda. “It’s just you’ve been such a mystery, never mentioning anything personal in your past.”

The comment focused even more interest on her and Miranda realised it would linger if it went unanswered, casting an awkward mood for the rest of the evening. Besides, what did it really matter? What point was there in hiding the fact she had no family pedigree whatsoever, nothing at all to recommend her to this company, apart from the business connection?

“There’s no great mystery, Sam,” she said with a casual shrug. “Unlike you and everyone else here, I have no family history going back generations. My mother was an orphan. I was her only child. She wasn’t married and never did marry. I wasn’t told who my father was and my mother died some years ago. So you see, I have very little to talk about.”

An appalled silence followed this little speech. Miranda found it so unnerving, she felt a compelling urge to fill it in with more talk, minimising the great black hole in her life they were probably all envisaging.

“Family is not a factor in my life, but it’s been very enlightening listening to all your news and the long connections between the Connellys and the Kings. It’s very different from what I’ve known myself.”

She tore her gaze from the miserable embarrassment on Sam’s face and steeled herself to look straight at Nathan who’d started this spotlight on her, digging under her skin again. She might as well hammer home the point that she was an unsuitable match for a King, and knew it too well to imagine any personal relationship between them could be viable.

“The framed photographs along your hallway here…such a history must be fascinating to have…to look back on…to feel a part of…”

“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes burning back a relentless challenge. “And most remarkable are the women who chose to follow their men here and make a life with them on this land. Like Sarah, who ran a brothel in Kalgoorlie, before throwing her lot in with Gerard.”

“Sarah? Who wrote the diaries?” Miranda couldn’t believe it.

“Yes. You might find them interesting to read sometime.”

It must be true, Miranda thought dazedly.

“Then there was Dorothy, a governess on one of the cattle stations in The Territory,” he went on. “One of nine children whose family was so poor she was virtually sold into slave labour. One less mouth to feed.”

He paused to let that information sink in, his eyes mocking any sense of grandeur about his family.

“Irene was the wife of a stockman who was thrown from his horse and died of a broken neck. She had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. She stayed here and married Henry King.”

“But that was in the old pioneering days,” Miranda finally found wits enough to protest. “I daresay there weren’t so many women then who would want to cope with such a life.”

“Not so many women now, either,” Nathan snapped back at her.

“I’m sure you’re wrong. The status is very different now.” She swung her gaze pointedly to Elizabeth King whose necklace of pearls was probably worth a fortune. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“It’s true there are many long-established families in the Kimberly, which give them a kind of status rating over relative newcomers,” she said consideringly. “But our population is so small…what is it, Nathan? Thirty thousand people in an area that covers over three hundred thousand square kilometres?”

“And that clustered mostly around the six major towns,” he said in affirmation.

“For the most part, the outback rule still holds,” Elizabeth King went on. “It’s not so much who you are or where you come from, but what you accomplish here that earns respect and status.”

For the most part…Miranda silently noted that reservation.

“In fact,” Tommy chimed in, “there are so many people with checkered pasts in the Kimberly, it’s wiser to accept them at face value than to inquire too closely.”

“The last outpost of civilisation,” Jared said with a grin.

“Full of colourful characters,” Tommy tagged on.

“But it does take time to earn respect and status,” Miranda said, cutting to the heart of the matter. “The King family has an investment of a hundred years here. And I understand the pearl farms in Broome have been held by the same families for a similar length of time.”

“And have been through as many ups and downs as those working the land,” Elizabeth replied with a wry smile. “When I married Lachlan, all pearling activity in Broome had been virtually dead for years. Mother-of-pearl shell had been the main source of income and that had been undercut by the introduction of the plastic button. It wasn’t until the advent of the cultured pearl that the farms built into the multimillion dollar business they are today. In marrying me, Lachlan got…only me.”

Her gaze moved to Nathan, the dark brown eyes boring straight at her eldest son. “My life was with your father. He was where I wanted to be. It wasn’t until after he died that I returned to Broome and involved myself in the pearl farming. You were old enough to take over from him, Nathan. You know you were. And that was what I couldn’t bear…not King’s Eden…King’s Eden without Lachlan.”

She paused, as though waiting for some critical comment from him. The sense of some running issue be-tween mother and son was very strong. Miranda’s mind spun with possibilities. Had Nathan judged his mother harshly for leaving? Had her departure triggered a mistrust in any woman being content to stay here, since not even his mother would? Was that why he had affairs rather than attempt a serious relationship?

She risked a covert glance at him. His face was like granite, revealing nothing. His eyes were narrowed, their expression veiled by lowered lashes, but his gaze was fixed on his mother. The silence was filling up with tension when he finally spoke.

“You did what you wanted to do,” he said quietly. “I have no quarrel with that.” He paused a moment, then added, “Trying to make people do what they don’t want…is a fool’s game…don’t you think? It never gets the result we’d like.”

Miranda felt the words, as though they were directed at her, reinforcing his claim that he would never manipulate a pressure situation to get what he wanted from her. She darted a glance at him but his gaze remained trained on his mother…a silent clash of wills that probably had nothing to do with her at all.

“Choices are always influenced by other things,” came Elizabeth’s pointed reply. “Which is why the other things need re-examining at times.”

“On that I am in total agreement with you.”

His gaze slid to Miranda, and the knowledge thumped into her heart that he was aware of the effect of his words on her, and every one of them was designed to reshape her view of him.

“I get the impression you’re applying to us the kind of value system that operates in a more sophisticated society than we have here,” he said with an ironic little smile. “Is that so, Miranda?”

Was he implying that wealth and power didn’t count in their lives, in the associations they made?

“You can hardly say your name doesn’t carry weight in the Kimberly,” she asserted, unconvinced that such status was meaningless to this family, despite the examples they had cited.

His eyes mocked her reading of their situation. “It carries the weight of survival…which is what is most valued here.”

“That’s true,” his mother cut in, swinging attention back to her. “The Kings, the Connellys, and my own family are survivors. It takes a certain breed of people—those I’d call of gritty character—to hold on in the Kimberly…to ride the good with the bad. There’s no red carpet, Miranda. If I’d thought you were a red carpet person at heart, I would not have hired you for King’s Eden.”

“I see,” she murmured, relief seeping through her at the realisation she wasn’t viewed as an outsider by Elizabeth King, but as someone with the capability of being an insider. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

“I might add that none of what we have now will survive unless there’s a next generation.” Her dark eyes glittered at Nathan and then moved to Tommy. “What will all your work and enterprise be worth then?”

“We’re not exactly old men,” Tommy protested jokingly.

“Time doesn’t wait,” his mother warned. “People always think there’s plenty of time. Take it from me, Tommy, time runs out and what has been postponed never happens.”

“Ah, now we’re getting back to choice,” Nathan drawled. “Do we seize the day or plan for the future? What do you think, Miranda?”

He was zeroing in on her now, pouring out a current of energy that wound around her and tugged on the desire to pursue whatever might develop between them. Her pulse rate accelerated so quickly she felt dizzy. It was decision time. She could turn him off with her reply or open the door. Denial or risk?

His mother’s words drummed through her mind… time running out…opportunities lost… She didn’t know what her life was moving towards, didn’t know if Nathan King could become an important part of it. All she knew was she no longer wanted to deny the chance that he might.

“I think I would like to read Sarah’s diaries,” she said, playing the safest line she could while inviting more contact with him.

For a moment it seemed she’d startled him. Then his eyes started dancing in amusement and his mouth widened into a grin. “I think you’ll find your interest rewarded. I’ll bring them over to you as soon as Jim Hoskins returns them.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

He laughed, a ripple of joyous warmth that was far more intoxicating than a champagne cocktail.

Whether it was triggered by pleasure or triumph or simply amusement at the way she had answered him, Miranda couldn’t tell. He was stunningly handsome when he laughed, his face alive with magnetic vitality, and it shot a wild zing of elation through her.

He was special.

She couldn’t be feeling like this if he wasn’t.

And right at this moment, she didn’t care what the cost might be of knowing more of him.

CHAPTER TEN

DAY after day Miranda reminded herself she could not expect to see Nathan until Jim Hoskins returned Sarah’s diaries, yet no amount of reasoning lessened the anticipation zinging through her mind, the excitement that fluttered through her every time she thought of being with him, and each day she felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t come.

When she lay in bed at night, she mentally replayed every minute of the dinner party at the station home-stead, interpreting and re-interpreting Nathan’s every word and action.

There was no doubt in her mind he had meant to push for another chance to move into her life, and when she’d given it, he was wise enough, or clever enough, not to capitalise on it too much, too soon. In fact, after he’d won what he wanted, he’d turned the dinner conversation back to general topics until they all rose from the table to have coffee and liqueurs back in the lounge room.

Then had come his casual offer to give her a personal tour of the photographs in the hallway. He’d pointed out the people he’d spoken of, giving a quick potted history of their lives on the cattle station, told a few amusing stories about them, and answered Miranda’s questions without once attempting to seize any advantage with her.

There was no physical touching. Nevertheless, every time their eyes met, it felt as though he was reaching into her, stamping himself more and more irrevocably on her life and drawing her into his. The power of it was both exhilarating and frightening. Even when she and Sam left, she could feel it following her…desire that somehow tunnelled deeper than any desire she’d known before.

To Miranda’s secret relief, Sam hadn’t noticed anything special occurring with Nathan, or she was reserving comment on it. Neither Tommy nor Jared had shown any awareness that a shift had taken place be-tween their brother and the new resort manager. Even Elizabeth King had seemed content with the evening at the end of it.

Of course, this privacy wouldn’t last…couldn’t once Nathan made his next move. This was a small community. People were going to notice and talk. But at least Nathan wasn’t directly involved with the resort business, and the way he’d kept away from her so far proved there would be no unpleasantness at work, should a relationship between them not go well. Though she couldn’t help hoping it would be something special. Really special.

As it happened, no amount of thinking prepared her for the circumstances that hit her on Thursday afternoon, just five days after she’d opened an invitational door to Nathan King. She’d done the rounds of the resort, checking that all accommodations levels were up to standard for the heavily booked weekend ahead, and supplies were more than adequate to meet demand. It was just past four o’clock when she entered her ad-ministration office, and without warning, the new world she’d begun to believe was free from her past, was suddenly attacked by it.

Val Warren, her clerical assistant, greeted her with a happy grin. “That cancellation we had on one of the homestead suites for this weekend…it’s been taken up. We’ve got a full house again.”

“Great! Short notice, though.”

“I guess people who stay here can afford to be spontaneous,” Val reasoned.

“Lucky for us! I’ll have to check with Roberto that he’s got enough gourmet food for the extra guests. What are their names?”

Val looked back at her monitor screen. “Married couple, currently staying at the Ayer’s Rock resort, chartering a plane to fly directly here tomorrow, expected arrival time three o’clock…and their names are Celine and Bobby Hewson.”

Miranda could feel the blood draining from her face. “Right!” she said weakly, and spun out of the office before Val saw the shock she’d delivered.

For several moments she leaned back against the closed door, fighting to recover some equilibrium. Maybe it was another Bobby Hewson whose wife just happened to be named Celine. They weren’t uncommon names. Ayer’s Rock, where they were currently staying, was like an Australian Mecca for tourists…the ancient red heart of the continent…but she couldn’t imagine the Bobby she knew wanting to go there. But what about his wife? If she had accompanied him to Sydney…a honeymoon sight-seeing trip…

Wife…Miranda shook her head. Surely they weren’t even married yet. The engagement had only been announced three months ago. Shouldn’t it take longer than that to arrange a big society wedding? It had to be some other couple. Had to be…

There was one way of settling any uncertainty. Galvanised into action, Miranda strode down the hall to her live-in quarters, intent on putting through a private call to the manager of the Ayer’s Rock resort. The Bobby Hewson she knew would not be an unobtrusive guest. He would demand the best suite, the best service, and would let the manager know precisely who he was and what he stood for.

Once inside her self-contained apartment, Miranda moved straight to the telephone on her bedside table. She reached for the receiver, saw that her hand was trembling and sat down on the bed to compose herself, taking several deep breaths before proceeding to make the needed contact. A few minutes later she was connected to the man who could give her the critical information.

“This is Miranda Wade, manager of the King’s Eden Resort.”

“Hi, there! What can I do for you?”

“Today we took a booking for a Mr and Mrs Bobby Hewson…”

“Ah yes, made it for him myself. He and his wife had planned to fly on to Broome. Another couple we have staying here—you’ll remember them—John and Robyn Trumbell—apparently raved on about King’s Eden and they decided to take in a weekend there. Lucky you could accommodate them.”

“Yes. Would that be the Bobby Hewson of the Regent Hotel chain?”

“Certainly is,” came the dry reply.

Miranda’s heart dropped like a stone.

“And his wife is a member of the Parmentier family who owns the Soleil Levant chain,” the manager ran on, confirming their identities beyond any possible doubt. “It’s her first trip to Australia. Keen to see the sights.”

Coincidence…sheer rotten coincidence that they had connected with the Trumbells! And finding available accommodation here! Miranda felt too sick to speak.

“Mr Hewson mentioned that you’d been trained up to a managerial position at the Regent in Sydney. Sounded as though he was interested in finding out how you’re dealing with an outback resort.”

Bobby knew she was here! It wasn’t just a trick of fate. He knew. John or Robyn Trumbell must have spoken of her. And that was why he was breaking his trip to Broome to come to King’s Eden. Nothing to do with the sights, though he’d probably played that line to his wife. Bobby Hewson, Miranda knew with stomach churning certainty, had her in his sights!

“I thought it might be him,” she forced herself to say through the bitter taste of bile. “Thank you for filling me in.”

“Well, I guess you now know what to expect.”

“Yes. I do. Thank you again.”

She hung up, her mind crawling with scenarios of what she could expect, and every one of them was a nightmare from hell. Tears started welling, tears of miserable frustration at not having escaped the punishment Bobby Hewson would inevitably deal out to her for having flouted his plans. She remembered only too well her last meeting with him, her eyes cleared of the gullible scales that had blinded her to the man he really was…seeing the totally selfish ego behind his smiling charm.

He had expected her to give in to him.

She’d walked away. Flown away.

And now he was going to catch up with her.

The tears overflowed and trickled down her cheeks. She bent over, pulled off her shoes and socks, then curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow for comfort. She was facing a totally wretched situation. He’d arrive tomorrow, then all day Saturday, all day Sunday, three nights…and he’d be getting at her every chance he had. She knew he would.

Regrets for ever having fallen in love with him savaged her as she wept into the pillow. It hadn’t been a real love. More a prolonged affair, sugared and peppered by the excitement and glamour Bobby always brought with him on his flying trips to Sydney. He’d swept in and out of her life, dazzling her with his charm, seducing her with honeyed words, always leav-ing with the promise of having more time with her on his next visit, making her feel important to him, necessary to him.

She’d fitted in with what he’d wanted. He hadn’t cared about her needs. Didn’t care about them now, either. He was coming here to satisfy himself, and he’d be scoring off her any way he could…subtle little digs in front of his wife, then seeking her out privately, maybe even trying to get into her bed again. He would see that as a triumph over her bid to put him out of her life. And if she didn’t oblige him…Miranda shuddered, every instinct telling her no one frustrated Bobby Hewson and got away with it.

A knock on her door broke into the train of misery. She swiped at her tear-sodden face and looked at her watch. It jolted her to see it was a few minutes past five. The current homestead guests were probably back from their day trips and she hadn’t been on hand to deal with any requests or problems. The knock meant someone was looking for her.

She scrambled off the bed, grabbed some tissues, rubbed her eyes and cheeks, shoved her feet into sandals, finger smoothed her hair back behind her ears. The knock came again as she struggled to calm herself enough to answer it. Probably Val, she thought, wanting to pass some message on before leaving for the day.

She opened the door and shock hit her again.

Nathan!

“Ah! You’re here.” He smiled, his eyes warm with pleasure.

Having steeled herself to face responsibility, Miranda was totally undone by Nathan’s smile. The steel collapsed and her whole body turned to jelly.

“I was looking for you to give you Sarah’s diaries,” he went on, holding out the package he was carrying. “Just as well you are here in your private quarters. Makes it easy to put them in a safe place.”

Somehow she lifted her hands to take the package. Her gaze dropped to it as her mind tried to change gears, adjusting to Nathan’s presence and recalling what she had anticipated…hoped…from it. Except it all felt unreal now, shaky, without substance. She stared down at the diaries—Sarah’s diaries—of a life that was in the past.

“Miranda?”

She heard the query but it seemed to come from a long distance. Her past was all too alive, threatening to mess her up again and she didn’t know when or where that would stop, now that Bobby had access to her.

“Is there something wrong?”

Wrong…the awful sense of wrongness was so twisted up inside her…Nathan here at the wrong time…Bobby coming to do more wrong…another wave of tears swam into her eyes. She shook her head, too choked to say anything.

“You did say you wanted to read them.” The edge in his voice seemed to slice into her heart. “If you’ve changed your mind…”

She swallowed hard, fighting to order her mind to come up with something that might cover her failure to welcome his company. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I’m not…” Her voice was wobbling. She scooped in a quick breath and forced herself on. “This is bad timing. But thank you for…”