Kitabı oku: «The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection», sayfa 87

CHAPTER FIVE

‘COME outside with me.’

That was how it had started—with words that had been ringing alarm bells for women since time began.

The wedding reception was almost over, and Emma and Tim had already left for their honeymoon.

‘Everyone else will be leaving soon, so come on,’ Mark urged. ‘Let’s take a walk in the garden.’

Sophie knew it was a line and, after the way she’d shamelessly flirted with Mark all evening, she couldn’t really blame him for trying. But she was quite sure she would decline his invitation.

‘I should help Emma’s mother to pack up her wedding dress.’

Mark took Sophie’s hand and sent a rush of thrills up her arm. ‘There’s a swarm of aunts to help her. She doesn’t need you. Come on. It’s a very important tradition—the best man and the bridesmaid—’

‘Dance briefly, as part of the wedding waltz,’ Sophie said very firmly as she tried to ignore the effect of his hand on her.

Mark’s dark eyes gleamed, and he smiled at her. ‘But then they briefly go outside together.’

Sophie laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘Do you have much success using that kind of line with Australian girls?’

‘Works like a dream every time.’

‘I don’t believe you. I’ve met Aussie girls. They’re usually very savvy about men.’

‘And how many Australian men have you met?’

She had to admit, ‘Very few.’

He took her hand. ‘Where I live in the Outback, we have almost all our parties outdoors. Under the stars.’

‘What are you telling me, Mark? That you’re feeling cooped up from being inside a building for too long?’

He grinned. Gorgeously. And Sophie knew she’d played right into his hands. But, strangely, she didn’t mind. She’d been feeling miserable for weeks, and tonight, for the first time in ages, she was having a really good time.

In fact, ‘good time’ was something of an understatement. When she’d danced with Mark she’d been so entranced, so captivated and turned on she’d almost melted on the dance floor.

The look on Oliver’s face had been very satisfying.

OK…so there was an undertone of gratitude in her smile as she stepped out into the June evening with Mark. But she felt inexplicably happy, too. The simple act of walking beside the Thames and holding hands had never been more exciting.

Sophie couldn’t help but be flattered by all the curious glances they attracted. Mark looked unbelievably handsome in his dark formal evening-suit, and she felt like a film star in her dreamy bridesmaid’s gown.

To Mark’s disappointment, they couldn’t see many stars. London was too brightly lit and the buildings were too tall. But they talked happily.

He told Sophie how he’d met Tim when Tim had gone to Australia in search of an Outback adventure during his gap year.

‘Tim ended up working as a jackaroo on my family’s property near Rockhampton,’ Mark said. ‘We became great mates, and we’ve been friends ever since.’

‘That’s rather unusual, considering how far apart you live,’ Sophie remarked. ‘There must have been a lot of phone calls and emails.’

He nodded. ‘But we’ve travelled, too. We’ve met up at cricket test matches, and a couple of rugby grand finals.’

Sophie told him how she’d known Emma since kindergarten.

‘And I organised the musicians for the wedding,’ she said. ‘I’m an agent for musicians. I hire bands, singers, string quartets, that sort of thing.’

‘One of the wedding guests was telling me about all the musicians in your family. Oliver Pebble—no—Pemble-something…’

‘Oliver Pembleton,’ Sophie mumbled, not at all happy to have that name thrown into the conversation.

‘That’s it. He seemed to think it was his duty to fill me in about your famous connections.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she sighed. ‘He would.’

‘If I remember correctly, your father’s an orchestral conductor, your mother’s an opera singer and your sisters perform as soloists all over Europe?’

Sophie nodded.

‘Very impressive. But I’m ashamed to confess I’ve never heard of any of them till tonight.’

‘Bless you!’ Sophie let out a hoot of laughter and clapped her hands. Linking her arm through Mark’s, she gave it a squeeze. ‘I usually have to spend hours listening to people rave on about my family. It gets very tedious explaining that I really don’t have any musical talent and that’s why I’m an agent and not a performer.’

‘So what’s your talent?’ Mark asked her.

She held up her hands. ‘Double-jointed thumbs.’

But then she felt silly and childish, even though Mark was kind enough to laugh.

‘What else?’ he prompted her.

‘I make amazing desserts,’ she offered, keen to atone for her gaffe.

‘Really? Now, that’s an impressive talent. My housekeeper doesn’t know any fancy desserts. All I get is the plain stuff. Tinned fruit and ice cream.’

He looked down at her with a wistful, little-boy smile.

‘Poor you,’ she crooned, and then, unbelievably, she made a fateful mistake. ‘I have three-quarters of a lemon-chiffon pie in my fridge.’

Mark grinned. ‘And where’s your fridge?’

‘Don’t be greedy. You’ve already eaten dessert tonight.’

‘I know, but where’s your fridge?’

She told him.

And before she knew what was happening he’d hailed a taxi.

OK, on the surface it did look as if she was very foolish and naïve. She’d normally never dream of taking a man she’d just met back to her flat. But, honestly, she did know she was leaping into dangerous waters. Mark was gorgeous and he’d been such good company, and she couldn’t remember an evening when she’d felt so comfortable with a man she’d just met.

When they got back to her flat, she gave Mark a huge helping of lemon-chiffon pie and whipped cream, and a tiny helping for herself to be companionable.

‘This is amazing,’ he said, his face lit by a smile that seemed very close to rapture. ‘It’s by far the best dessert I’ve ever eaten.’

Sophie grinned. ‘I told you I was talented.’

She put their bowls and spoons in the sink, and when she turned she found Mark standing close behind her.

That was when she made the biggest mistake of the night.

Perhaps she could blame Oliver for being a rat, or she could blame Emma for getting married. Sophie and Emma had been planning their weddings since they’d been nine years old, and she was feeling sentimental, wanted a little romance for herself.

Or maybe Mark was simply and utterly irresistible. Whatever…

‘What’s your talent, Mark?’ she asked him breathlessly.

‘I’ll show you,’ he murmured.

Later, she would cringe at the corniness of it. But at the time she didn’t mind a jot, because Mark was already kissing her. His mouth was warm and deliciously seductive. And when he slipped his arms around her their bodies meshed perfectly, and sparks erupted in so many parts of Sophie that she desperately needed to discover every one of Mark’s talents.

Her world had fallen apart as easily as that.

Now, as she lay in the back bedroom at Coolabah Waters, her hand pressed to her still-flat stomach, Sophie was miserably aware of the fallout from that one careless, blissfully romantic night.

To add to her mood of general gloom, the moon disappeared behind a bank of clouds, leaving her bedroom swathed in darkness. The fading paintwork, the ceiling fan and the cane chair in the corner disappeared into the suffocating black of the Outback night. She couldn’t see a thing, and she couldn’t remember where the light switch was. She felt panic stir.

From deep within the house there came a creaking sound, and hairs rose at the back of Sophie’s neck. What was that?

A footstep?

It couldn’t be Mark coming to her room, could it? He wouldn’t do that, would he?

Alone in the dark, she was pitifully aware of how little she knew about the father of her baby. He’d seemed gentlemanly enough in London—when he hadn’t been busily seducing her. This evening, although he’d kissed her, he’d kept his distance when she’d asked him to. But could she be sure she could trust him?

She heard another sound, another creak, and her ears strained for the soft fall of footsteps. Could he be moving about barefoot?

Her heart began to pound. If only it wasn’t so dark. If only she wasn’t here all alone with him in the middle of the big, empty Outback! If only she wasn’t such a trusting fool!

Good grief, she’d acted on some crazy impulses in her time, but surely coming here to Outback Australia was the worst, the craziest thing she’d ever done. She was alone out here with one man. A man she barely knew. A man who would much rather have sex with her than stay alone in his room down the hallway.

Again, she heard a creak.

Logic told her that it could be the iron roof, or the old house’s timbers shifting in the cooling air. But in the pitch-black, all alone in a strange bed, Sophie’s fear won out over logic.

Her heart thumped wildly and she leapt out of bed. Hands groping in front of her, she felt her way across the room to the door and kicked her foot on a chest of drawers, before she found the solid, old-fashioned key in the lock and turned it.

Mark slept badly, and as luck had it the phone rang shortly after dawn. He snatched it up quickly, afraid that its ringing would reach Sophie’s room and disturb her.

Sinking groggily back onto his pillows, he mumbled, ‘Good morning.’ He blinked when he realised the caller was Tim.

‘Apologies for calling so early, Mark, but Emma badgered me. Claims she can’t rest till she knows if Sophie has reached your place in one piece.’

‘Oh, sure,’ Mark said, hefting onto one elbow and squinting at his bedside clock—it had just gone five. ‘Sophie got here yesterday. She’s fine.’

‘Thank God for that.’

Mark heard Tim relaying the news to his wife, and then Emma’s voice issuing some kind of instruction. ‘I’m not going to tell him that,’ Tim hissed in a poorly disguised stage whisper. ‘Of course he’ll be nice to her.’

Mark sank back onto the pillow and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ‘Tell Emma I’ll handle Sophie with kid gloves,’ he said. ‘I’m a very nice guy.’ Despite having made the poor girl pregnant.

‘I told Em she was worked up about nothing,’ Tim said. ‘But she’s worried because of what happened last time.’

‘Last time?’ Mark frowned and scratched the back of his neck. ‘What are you talking about? What last time? Surely Sophie hasn’t been pregnant before?’

‘No, mate. Nothing like that. But hasn’t she told you about her ex?’

An uneasy pang circled Mark’s heart. ‘No. What about him?’

‘Downright cad of a boyfriend. Dropped her cold a few months ago, just as they were about to announce their engagement.’

The pang in Mark’s heart arrowed through his guts. ‘Really?’

‘Sophie was hurt rather badly,’ Tim said. ‘Understandable, of course, but she’s a tender-hearted little thing. Was absolutely gutted when he turned up with a new fiancée just a few weeks later.’

Mark drew a sharp breath.

‘That’s why Emma and I are thrilled that the two of you have hit it off,’ Tim added. ‘Bad luck about the unplanned pregnancy, of course, but I’m sure you’ll work something out.’

Mark swallowed, couldn’t bring himself to reply.

‘At least we know we can rely on you to play it straight with Sophie,’ Tim said.

‘Yes,’ Mark said faintly. ‘Of course.’

When Tim said goodbye, Mark stared grimly at the receiver. Throwing his bed clothes aside, he launched himself out of bed and paced his room, aware of the anxious ache that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

Bloody hell. Poor Sophie. Dumped by one man, made pregnant by the next. Talk about leaping out of the frying pan into the furnace.

He sighed heavily, ploughed frantic fingers through his hair. He’d assured Tim that he would ‘play it straight’ with Sophie. And that was right. He had no intention of stringing her along with false promises. But was that enough?

Last night they’d both agreed that marriage wasn’t really an option, but was Sophie secretly hoping for a proposal from him? Or was she extra wary of commitment, after her experience with this other jerk?

Last night she’d been nervous when he’d tried to kiss her. But then she’d liked it.

No doubt the poor girl was as confused as he was.

It was beginning to make sense now.

It made no sense at all.

Sophie slept in.

When she still hadn’t emerged from her room at half-past ten, Mark made a pot of tea and toast with marmalade, piled everything onto a tray and knocked on her bedroom door.

There was no answer, and he told himself that it was to be expected. The woman was tired and jet-lagged.

Just the same, an unreasonable fear sent alarm creeping through him like spiders.

He set the tray on the floor and tried to open the door, and was surprised to discover that it was locked.

He knocked again carefully, and then called, ‘Sophie? Are you all right?’

Still no sound.

He felt something close to panic, considered his options and was about to force the door with his shoulder when he heard a muffled sound.

A voice called faintly. Then silence again. His heart hammered as he imagined all sorts of dreadful possibilities. ‘Sophie!’ he cried. ‘What’s the matter?’

At last he heard footsteps on the bare-timber floor, the rattle of the key, and finally the door squeaking open on rusty hinges.

Sophie stood before him in a fine, white cotton nightgown rendered transparent by the morning sunlight pouring through the window behind her. Mark’s breathing faltered. She was so exquisite—her lush curves and slenderness balanced in perfect proportion. He was grateful he’d already set the tray down or he might have dropped the lot.

Sweeping a tumble of dark curls out of her eyes, she smiled shyly.

‘Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.’ He was dismayed that his voice sound ragged and off-key, as if he’d run out of breath.

‘What time is it?’ she asked, blinking sleepily. ‘Have I slept in?’

With commendable restraint, Mark kept his gaze strictly on her face. ‘It’s just gone half-past ten. I wasn’t sure how long I should leave you.’

‘Heavens, I’m glad you woke me.’

He retrieved the tray and Sophie’s eyes widened.

‘You’ve made breakfast, Mark? How kind.’ But then she sagged against the door frame, groaned weakly, pressed a hand to her stomach and another against her mouth.

‘What’s the matter?’ Mark cried, feeling helpless as he stood there with the tray.

She whispered, ‘I need to use the bathroom.’ Moaning softly, she pushed at him with a frantic hand.

He sprang back, giving her a clear path as she stumbled wretchedly down the hallway.

Hell. Last night he’d been fantasising about seducing this woman.

This was reality, he thought as he heard distressing sounds coming from the bathroom. This was Sophie Felsham’s life for the next seven months—morning sickness, a baby growing inside her, stretching her body beyond recognition, and finally the frightening pain of giving birth. The responsibility of a new life, and the round-the-clock care of a baby.

And what was Mark’s role—to watch from the sidelines?

What a damned crazy situation! Sophie had been trying to recover from one disastrous relationship when she’d been landed with this. And Mark was totally implicated, utterly guilty, but unsure exactly what she wanted from him.

Suddenly, two weeks didn’t seem nearly long enough for them to work out a solution.

Sophie felt much better when the dash to the bathroom was over and she’d washed her face, cleaned her teeth and combed her hair.

She came back into the bedroom and was surprised to find that Mark was still there, his eyes sympathetic. Worried.

‘Does that happen every morning?’

‘Just about.’

He shook his head, gave her a rueful smile. ‘It’s not fair, is it?’

‘Oh, it could be worse. At least it’s only first thing in the morning. Some poor women are sick all day long.’ She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the tray laden with tea and toast.

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d still want breakfast,’ he said. ‘But if you like, I’ll make a fresh lot.’

‘Don’t bother. This will be fine, thanks.’

‘It’ll be cold.’ He reached to take the tray. ‘Let me make you some more. You hop back into bed. Put your feet up. This won’t take a minute.’

‘You’re spoiling me,’ Sophie protested, but she did exactly as she was told.

She remembered her middle-of-the-night fears about Mark, and felt a twinge of guilt. He couldn’t have been nicer or more caring if he’d been a loving husband.

It was irrational of her, but she found his kindness disconcerting. She couldn’t shake off her fear that she might fall in love with him and get hurt. What if she got to the end of these two weeks and found that she wanted to stay with him, while Mark was more than happy to let her go?

Where’s your stiff upper lip, Sophie? No need to throw in the towel just yet.

‘Fresh tea and hot toast,’ Mark said a little later, returning as promised in a jiffy, and setting the tray carefully on her bedside table.

‘Mark, you’re an angel. A knight in shining denim.’

He looked embarrassed and put his thumbs through the belt loops in his jeans. ‘I’ll leave you to have it in peace. Take as long as you like.’

Sophie enjoyed her breakfast immensely. She couldn’t remember ever having eaten breakfast in bed before, not unless she’d made it for herself, and that didn’t count. Afterwards, she dressed and took her tray to the kitchen, where she found Mark at the sink washing dishes.

For a moment she paused, rather stunned by the sight of this tall, mega-masculine cattleman dressed in battered jeans and a long-sleeved blue cotton shirt, engaged in such a domestic task. Her mind conjured a disturbing image of his strong, workmanlike hands tending to a little baby—bathing her, changing her nappy, laughing and blowing kisses while he chattered in baby talk.

Good grief. If she didn’t get a grip on her imagination, she was going to find herself in no end of trouble.

Luckily the phone rang, providing a distraction. Mark wiped his hands on a towel and grabbed the receiver from the wall. He frowned as he concentrated on the caller’s message. ‘OK. I’ll come straight over,’ was all he said, and then he hung up.

Sophie couldn’t help wondering what this meant. Where was Mark going? Would she be involved?

His face was grim as he looked at her. ‘That was my neighbour, Andrew Jackson. There’s been an accident. A truck full of cattle has rolled coming out of a creek crossing.’

‘That sounds bad. Is anyone hurt?’

‘I don’t think so. But it’s on my boundary, so I’ll have to head over there and see what I can do.’

‘Oh.’

Sophie gulped.

At home there would be police, ambulances and the fire brigade all rushing to the scene of an accident. But the Outback was so remote that people had to depend on their neighbours to help them out. How scary was that?

‘How will you be able to help, Mark?’

‘Hard to say. I might be able to give them a hand to jack up the truck. Or I might have to use the winch on the four-wheel drive to pull them upright.’ He shrugged. ‘They might need assistance with injured cattle.’

‘I—I see.’ Sophie felt more than a little out of her depth. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll be any use?’

He smiled. ‘You’d be much better off resting here.’

That puts me in my place—the useless English girl.

Sophie hated the thought of being left alone again. Was this the fate of all Outback women? To be abandoned while their men ran around being heroes?

‘What can I do, Mark?’

About to rush off, he paused, framed by the flyscreen door, then he came back into the room and touched her lightly on the elbow. ‘You’ll be OK here, won’t you?’

No, she wouldn’t be OK. She’d been looking forward to spending a whole day with Mark, but she couldn’t bear him to think of her as a wimp. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him, holding her head high.

If this was the sort of thing that happened on Mark’s property, then she was determined to try and fit in. No matter how scared she was, she had to make the best of it. ‘Can I fix you a snack to take with you?’

Mark’s eyes warmed in a way that made Sophie’s blood sing. ‘Some tea would be terrific. Can you put it in a flask? I’m going to load a few things into the ute.’

‘All right.’

Sophie was glad she’d snooped in Mark’s kitchen yesterday so she knew where things were. She flew to the kettle, and while the water was coming to the boil she collected bread, butter, cheese and pickles and began to make sandwiches. By the time Mark returned, the tea was in a flask, the sandwiches wrapped and in a paper bag along with oatmeal biscuits and an orange.

‘This should keep you going,’ she said, handing them to him.

He looked both surprised and delighted. ‘Thanks.’ With his free hand he drew her close, pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was only the lightest brush of his lips, but it sent a thrill from her breastbone to her toes.

A small gleam came into his eyes as he let her go and then he turned abruptly, snagged a wide-brimmed hat from a rack on the wall and set it on his head at a careless angle.

Sophie had trouble keeping up with his long-legged strides as he hurried across the yard to the parked truck.

Mark slanted her a crooked smile. ‘Could you feed the dogs and give them water?’

‘Oh, sure.’

She hoped she didn’t sound as stunned and nervous as she felt. Her experience with dogs was limited to her mother’s toy poodle.

‘Come to think of it,’ Mark said, frowning, ‘I’d better take Monty with me. I might need his help to keep the cattle in check. But I’ll unchain Blue Dog and leave him with you. I’ll feel better about leaving you here, if you have a dog about the place.’

‘Why? Am I in real danger here?’

‘Not with one of my dogs to keep an eye on you.’

That’s not what I wanted to hear.

Scant minutes later, Sophie stood with her hands on her hips and with a blue-speckled cattle dog sitting at her heels.

‘He’s a working dog, so don’t try to pat him,’ Mark warned as he swung into the driver’s seat.

Sophie cast a wary glance at Blue Dog’s teeth. Oh, help. She was scared—of the dog, of the empty Outback, of being alone. ‘Are you sure I wouldn’t be any use if I came with you, Mark?’

He didn’t hear her. Already he was slamming his door shut and revving the engine. With an elbow on the window sill, he leaned out.

‘Why don’t you check out my collection of DVDs? There should be something there to keep you entertained.’

With a wave, and a grin that made his teeth flash white in his brown face, he took off in a flurry of dust.

Blue Dog sat quietly beside Sophie, his tongue lolling as he panted, and the raw heat of the sun stung the back of her bare neck as she watched Mark hurry off down the rutted track without a backwards glance.

Hard to believe that half an hour ago she was being spoiled with breakfast in bed.

Sophie lost count of the number of times she went to the front veranda to look out, her hand shielding her eyes from the glare as she scoured the sunburnt paddocks, hoping to see a cloud of dust that meant Mark was on his way home.

She told herself that there was no need to be scared—not with Blue Dog sprawled across the front steps, his ears alert, his eyes watchful as he kept guard.

She didn’t want to feel sorry for herself today. This was what happened in Mark’s Outback, and if she was going to spend two weeks here she might as well try her level best to fit in. But she would not watch DVDs like a spoilt teenager, she would keep busy.

She found dried dog-food and put it in a bowl for Blue Dog, and poured water into another bowl. He lapped thirstily and then sank back into his sprawling pose across the top of the steps. He was a very quiet dog, not at all yappy, unlike her mother’s poodle. It didn’t seem right that she shouldn’t pat him, but she caught another glimpse of those teeth and was quite happy to obey Mark.

Even though Mark’s housekeeper had left meals, Sophie decided that apart from watering the pot plants on the veranda the only useful thing she could do was to cook. She loved cooking, and it might help to calm her frazzled nerves.

She turned on the radio for company, and to try to block out the disturbing silence of the vast, empty plains outside. She hunted through the enormous deep freeze in Mark’s kitchen and found minced beef, so she made a huge lasagna. And a search of the pantry produced all the necessary ingredients for a traditional English sherry-trifle, so she made one of those, too.

With enough food to throw a party, she abandoned the kitchen and wandered through the house, picturing ways it could be improved with paint, curtains and attractive furniture.

She took her afternoon cup of tea onto the front veranda, so she could keep a lookout for Mark. But instead of Mark she saw a flock of large, ugly emus straggling across the stretch of dry grass in front of the homestead. Sophie watched them warily. The dog took no notice of them, but they were quite scary, with long legs, scraggy necks and fat bodies covered in untidy, dark-grey feathers.

Their eyes were fierce and staring, and their beaks strong and too sharply pointed for Sophie’s liking. She waved her hands at them, trying to shoo them away, but they kept coming closer. She tried to remember what she’d heard about them. Were they vicious?

Her heart thrashed. Could they climb the front stairs? Could their ghastly beaks peck her to death? Terrified, she raced back inside the house and watched them through a window.

I hate this place!

Everything in the Outback was ugly and scary. Sophie fought back tears. She felt unbearably homesick for lovely green England with its hills of emerald velvet and its gentle valleys, its bluebell woods and pretty, babbling brooks.

Why on earth had she thought it was a good idea to come here?

The emus hung around for ages, but at last they wandered away. Relieved, Sophie was about to take a shower when the hot, still silence of the afternoon was broken by the shrill ring of the telephone.

Please let it be Mark. She tore through the house, and was a little breathless as she answered it.

‘Hello, Sophie,’ said a friendly voice. ‘I’m Jill Jackson, Mark’s neighbour.’

‘Oh, hello!’

‘I thought I’d ring to let you know that Mark is on his way home.’

Sinking thankfully onto a kitchen stool, Sophie said, ‘That’s good news, Jill. Thanks so much for letting me know.’

‘Mark saved the day,’ Jill said. ‘The men would never have righted the truck without his help.’

‘Really?’ Sophie found that she was absurdly pleased. ‘Then he’s earned the nice dinner I’ve prepared for him.’

Jill laughed. ‘I dare say he has.’

‘I’m glad you rang.’

‘My pleasure. I was pretty sure Mark wouldn’t think to ring. The men were so preoccupied with a smashed-up road train and two hundred head of cattle that phone calls home wouldn’t have scanned on their radar. But I know what it’s like, waiting for news.’

‘Thanks a lot. I appreciate it. Are you still there? At the crash?’

‘Yes. I drove over at lunch time with extra provisions, but I’m heading home again now.’

Obviously, Jill was a proper Outback woman, the kind who pitched in with the men when necessary. Sophie squashed thoughts of inadequacy. She’d stayed back at the lonely homestead without a whimper, and that had been an act of courage as far as she was concerned.

‘Andrew and I are hoping that you and Mark can come over for lunch,’ Jill said. ‘Actually, I’ve already mentioned it to Mark, and he suggested that Thursday would suit.’

‘Oh? Well, yes, that would be lovely. Thank you.’

‘I can’t wait to meet you, Sophie.’ Jill spoke with surprising warmth.

Sophie blinked. ‘Really?’

‘Mark’s a wonderful neighbour. The nicest man I’ve ever known. Not counting Andrew, I suppose I should add.’

Sophie drew a shaky breath.

‘We’ll see you on Thursday, then?’ enquired Jill.

‘Yes,’ Sophie assured her. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’ But she couldn’t help wondering what Mark had told his neighbours. What had he said that had caused the air of contained excitement in Jill’s voice?

As soon as she heard the sound of a vehicle Sophie ran to the front veranda again, her eyes hungry for her first sight of Mark. She watched his truck roar up the track in a cloud of dust, saw the outline of his broad-brimmed hat and his wide shoulders, and her heart gave a very definite skip.

Mark waved, but kept driving around to the back of the house and came to a rattling stop under an enormous shade tree.

Blue Dog became a blurred streak, shooting down the steps and around the side of the house while Sophie followed at a more sedate pace. She watched Mark swing easily out of the truck and bend down to scratch the dog between his ears. ‘Have you been a good guard dog?’

‘He didn’t move from the front steps,’ Sophie announced as she drew near them.

Mark grinned at the dog, then looked up at her, and his face grew serious. ‘How have you been?’ he asked quietly.

‘Fine.’ She was determined that he mustn’t guess how scared she’d been or how much she’d missed him.

‘Good girl,’ he said, in much the same tone that he might say ‘good dog’, and then he straightened, took off his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair. ‘It’s been a big day.’

Dinner that evening was very pleasant. Mark ate with clear enjoyment, and complimented Sophie’s cooking many times. He told her about his day and about his neighbours, the Jacksons. Sophie wanted to ask him what he’d told them about her, but she decided to hold her tongue. Perhaps she’d misread Jill, and was making Mount Everest out of a molehill.

But as they carried the plates back to the kitchen she was rather surprised to see that Mark was frowning at her.