The Socialite and the Cattle King by Lindsay Armstrong

collected from him the previous evening. None of it had been especially riveting, mostly family history, history of the area and some anecdotes… Hang on!
    She paused her thoughts as it struck her that thosefew anecdotes from his formative years had included his brother Mark, his sister Sue, his mother, who was a doctor, and his grandparents but not one word about his father. Wasn’t that a little strange?
    She shook her head, more than ever conscious that Brett Wyndham was an enigma. She also had to concede that there was a spark of chemistry between them—more than a spark. She couldn’t deny there were times when she loved his company, even though he’d so incensed her at the beginning, but she also couldn’t deny her wariness.
    Of course, some of that was to do with what had once happened to her, but who would wittingly fall in love with an enigmatic loner? She posed the question to herself.

Chapter Five
    S HE didn’t encounter any snakes or frogs on the way to dinner. In fact, Bella came to meet her as she opened her door and escorted her.
    ‘You are a lovely dog,’ she said to Bella as they arrived, then, ‘Wow—this looks amazing!’
    Oil lamps hung from the rafters, shedding soft light. The table was set with colourful, linen place mats, pewter and crystal, and a bowl of swamp lilies. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and there was the tantalizing smell of roast beef in the air.
    Brett had obviously showered too; his hair was damp and spiky and he’d changed into khaki trousers and a checked shirt. He looked devastatingly attractive, Holly thought privately.
    ‘Champagne?’ he invited, lifting the bottle by its neck and starting to ease the foil off.
    ‘Yes, please.’ Holly looked around. ‘I must say this is amazingly civilized for beyond the black stump.’
    ‘We do our best. Champagne, Sarah?’ he called.
    ‘No, thanks,’ Sarah called back. ‘I’m in the midst of dishing up; I’ll have one later.’
    ‘Has it always been like this—Haywire?’ Hollyasked, and lifted her glass in a response to Brett’s silent toast.
    ‘More or less,’ he replied and shrugged. ‘Ever since I can remember, although the cabins have been renovated and more mod cons put in. But I never wanted to change this. ’ He gestured comprehensively.
    ‘I’m so glad; it’s magic,’ Holly said enthusiastically.
    Not a great deal later Holly said to Sarah, ‘That was fantastic,’ as she put her knife and fork together and pushed her plate away. ‘Not only roast beef but Yorkshire pudding.’
    ‘I am a Yorkshire lass,’ Sarah revealed as she stood up and began clearing plates. ‘There’s fruit and cheese to come, and coffee.’
    ‘Please, let me help,’ Holly offered.
    ‘No way! I am being paid to do this. You and Brett relax,’ Sarah ordered.
    Holly breathed a little frustratedly. She didn’t really want to be left alone with Brett—well, she did and she didn’t, she decided. But she felt tense about it; she felt jittery.
    On the other hand, she didn’t want to force herself on Sarah in the kitchen. Some cooks hated having their space invaded with offers of help.
    She got up, but stood undecided beside her chair, and it seemed to show in her face.
    She saw Brett watching her rather narrowly and wondered what he was thinking. Then she realized, as his dark gaze flicked up and down her figure, that he was thinking of her in a particular context—the awarenessthat continued to spring up between them—and she felt herself colour; she turned away, biting her lip.
    He was the one who solved the problem. He said, ‘I’ve got a few things to do, a few calls to make. Why don’t you look through the albums? It might give you more background material.’
    She turned back. ‘Albums?’
    He indicated the library area and some thick albums arranged on a teak table. A comfortable armchair stood beside the table and a lamp above it shed light.
    ‘There are photos going way back; there are