‘Jenny’s?’
‘Mickey’s. To make more phone calls.’
‘I rang Elinor while I was in Curalo.’
Elinor. First name. The word hung between them, loaded with unknowns.
Leave it, she thought, but then she thought if she was Letty she’d ask. She swung her legs against the fence rails and tried to look nonchalant. As if this was a lightweight question.
‘So the gossip rags haven’t caught up with Elinor?’
‘I hope they never do.’ It was said with such vehemence that she blinked.
‘Um…it’s serious then?’
He seemed disconcerted but then he shrugged. ‘You could say that.’
‘I’m sorry you’ll miss Christmas with her, then.’
‘I’m sorry, too.’ He swung himself down from the fence and she knew the question had messed with whatever calm he’d been feeling. ‘I believe I need to get that carburettor back in. Without it, we’re dependent on the tractor as emergency transport so I’m not going to bed before it’s in working order. It’s okay. Twenty minutes work, tops. I’m not being a martyr.’ He glanced down at his overalls and he smiled, with unmistakable all-boy satisfaction. ‘I haven’t looked this greasy since I was Scott’s age. It feels great.’
‘You are great,’ she said as he reached up and took her by the waist and lifted her down to join him. He should let her go. He didn’t.
‘So are you.’
Uh-oh.
Keep it light, she told herself.
‘Or a cameraman.’
The paparazzi. That was an appalling thought. She could see the headlines now:
‘Does Elinor know you’re stuck with me?’ He was still holding her. She should step away-but she didn’t.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘She doesn’t mind?’
‘She’s upset for me. She knows I want to be home.’
For some reason that hurt, but she made herself respond. ‘That’s generous of Elinor.’
‘She’s a generous woman.’
What to say to that? And he was still holding her.
‘I…I need to go to bed,’ she managed and she tugged a little but still he didn’t release her.
‘Bed?’
‘In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s nine, which is the witching hour when milking starts at five.’
‘So you don’t look forward to your morning milk?’ he teased.
He was so close… She was having trouble making her voice work but she had to try. ‘Getting up at five… Ugh,’ she said. ‘But while I’m here it’s normal. For lots of people it’s normal. You get up at five to check on your trade indices all the time. You don’t mind.’
‘So what do you want to do at five?’
‘Sleep!’
He smiled, then put his head on one side, considering. ‘So why stay on here? You’re putting your life on hold for your little brother.’
‘I haven’t noticed much life-holding.’
‘Where’s the social life? When you work with me I demand twenty-four seven commitment. Then you come here and it seems the same. Milking from five to nine and milking from three to seven. Where’s time for Meg in that?’
He sounded concerned, and that disconcerted her. He’d never sounded concerned. Their relationship was businesslike.
It had to stay that way.
‘I have wild lunches,’ she told him.
‘Right.’ He was watching her in a way that disturbed her. As if he was trying to figure her out.
‘So…boyfriend?’ he asked and she winced. Ouch. That’d do as far as personal questions went. He set his boundaries. She’d set hers.
‘That’s not your territory, Mr McMaster.’ She tugged back and this time he did let her go. She made to turn away but his next question stopped her.
‘Do you like working for me?’
That was an easy one. ‘I love it.’
‘Why?’
She hesitated. He was watching her in the fading light, and she knew her answer meant something to him.
‘It’s smart work,’ she said slowly. ‘I never know what my day’s going to hold. I need to use my brain, and I love it that you treat me like I can.’
‘Like you can what?’
‘Rise to any challenge.’ She managed a smile at that. ‘Except get you home for Christmas.’
He didn’t smile back. Silence. The sun had sunk well over the horizon and the light was disappearing fast. The night was warm and still. Millicent was right beside them by the fence, oozing the contentment of a soon-to-be mum who had everything she wanted in life.
Except she didn’t have her bull, Meg thought, and then thought what was she thinking?
‘Bed,’ she said.
‘Sounds good,’ he said and she blushed and stepped away so fast she tripped on her own feet. He put out a hand to catch her but she staggered and grabbed the fence and maintained her distance.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked, stammering.
‘I don’t believe so.’ He was laughing, she thought-not obviously, but there was laughter behind his eyes. ‘So do we have a date with a hundred cows at five in the morning?’
‘I can’t believe you offered to milk.’
‘It will be my pleasure.’
‘In lieu of the world’s trade indices.’
‘In lieu of trade indices.’ He hesitated. ‘I really don’t mind getting up early,’ he told her. ‘If you need to sleep… I wish I could milk them for you.’
He was serious.
‘Yeah, well, I do have some affection for the cows,’ she managed. ‘Though it’s a wonderful offer…’ She took a deep breath. ‘As was buying Scott the car. I’d like to pay.’
‘Get off your high horse, Jardine.’
‘It’s not my high horse, it’s my dignity,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘By which I take it that you won’t let me. In which case I’m very, very grateful. So thank you, Mr McMaster, and goodnight.’
‘William,’ he said, and it was a snap.
‘William, then,’ she said and met his gaze for as long as she dared-which wasn’t very long at all.
‘Sleep well,’ he said and, before she knew what he was about, he reached out and touched her face. It was a feather touch, a fleeting brush of his finger against her cheek, but he might as well have kissed her. She raised her hand to her cheek as if he’d applied heat. Maybe he had.
‘Sleep…sleep well yourself,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said. ‘And Meg?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you for rising to my challenges. I appreciate it.’
He was still so close. She desperately wanted him to touch her again. She stood and stared up at him, but there was nothing to say.
