fierce ache of desire that had kindled inside her at the sight of him sitting astride the magnificent horse.
She'd tried to pigeonhole him as a stuffy city lawyer, money-orientated and self-interested. It was easier to think of him that way than have to admit the reality of the man who'd turned her world upside down. He was as hard and tough as the rugged country he rode through, but his tenderness had caught her off balance, pierced her heart.
She drove into the shed, pocketed the keys and padlocked the shed door. As she turned the key, it struck her forcefully that the need to do so no longer existed. Her father was beyond the vague impulses of his damaged mind now. Grief washed over her, negating her self-imposed anger. Then she remembered that a would-be killer might be lurking somewhere in the area. She checked the padlock.
Drew was wiping Quest down as she walked into the stables. As he did so he talked softly to the horse, and Emma noticed the smile that lightened his features, making him look younger. She leaned against the wall, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets.
'Where did you learn to ride?'
'It's a long story.'
'I'm a good listener.'
Drew shrugged. She might as well know. Better sooner than later.
'When I was a teenager I got into bad company. I had a chip on my shoulder that nobody could dislodge.' He waited for Emma's reaction, but she simply nodded. 'I wanted to be accepted by my peers and I thought I could gain that acceptance by joining in their, shall we say, less than legal activities.'
Now her eyebrow raised.
'I left home, lived on the streets. Fortunately for me my heart wasn't really in it, and I never did anything to warrant a conviction, but I had a pretty low opinion of myself and was too ashamed to go home. I'd heard about this part-Aboriginal bloke who ran a cattle property on the western slopes of the Great Dividing Range. Apparently he'd had a tough upbringing so he tried to help troubled youngsters by teaching them all about working with horses and cattle and building their self-esteem.'
He led Quest into her stall, made sure she had feed and water. She nuzzled his chest and he stroked her long, proud neck.
'You're a beauty, girl,' he murmured. 'It would have saved me a lot of boot leather if I'd had you to ride over the range.'
'You walked? From Cairns?'
'I needed what little money I had to buy food. You can walk with sore feet, but not if your stomach's empty.'
Emma shook her head. No wonder he'd learned to ignore pain.
'So this man took you in?'
Drew nodded. 'During the year I was there, the number of teenagers he and his wife looked after fluctuated from six to ten. Black, white, country kids, city street kids. There was even a young girl from Sydney…'
Emma's interest quickened at the wistful tone in his voice. 'You…you liked her…'
Drew walked to the window and stared out.
'Yes. She was only seventeen but she'd been a prostitute for about a year to support her drug habit. When she couldn't take it any longer she left Sydney, found her way to the property and dried out.'
He fell silent, his gaze unseeing, his mind turned inwards.
For a fleeting moment he wondered why he was telling Emma something that was so intensely private. But the need to connect with her, to share a part of himself, to touch her soul, was compelling.
'She was tiny, with short blonde hair and fine blue veins under pale, pale skin.'
Emma realised he was describing the girl in detail that betrayed their intimacy. He looked across at her now, the blueness of his eyes startling, obviously matching the depth of his feelings.
Had he searched for fine blue veins as he'd made love to her last night? A fist seemed to clutch at her heart at the thought.
'She taught me about sex. For all my bravado that was one area I had yet to gain experience in.' He caught Emma's quick intake of breath and read the concern in her eyes. 'Don't worry, I've been tested for AIDS. I'm negative.' A wistful half-smile
She'd tried to pigeonhole him as a stuffy city lawyer, money-orientated and self-interested. It was easier to think of him that way than have to admit the reality of the man who'd turned her world upside down. He was as hard and tough as the rugged country he rode through, but his tenderness had caught her off balance, pierced her heart.
She drove into the shed, pocketed the keys and padlocked the shed door. As she turned the key, it struck her forcefully that the need to do so no longer existed. Her father was beyond the vague impulses of his damaged mind now. Grief washed over her, negating her self-imposed anger. Then she remembered that a would-be killer might be lurking somewhere in the area. She checked the padlock.
Drew was wiping Quest down as she walked into the stables. As he did so he talked softly to the horse, and Emma noticed the smile that lightened his features, making him look younger. She leaned against the wall, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets.
'Where did you learn to ride?'
'It's a long story.'
'I'm a good listener.'
Drew shrugged. She might as well know. Better sooner than later.
'When I was a teenager I got into bad company. I had a chip on my shoulder that nobody could dislodge.' He waited for Emma's reaction, but she simply nodded. 'I wanted to be accepted by my peers and I thought I could gain that acceptance by joining in their, shall we say, less than legal activities.'
Now her eyebrow raised.
'I left home, lived on the streets. Fortunately for me my heart wasn't really in it, and I never did anything to warrant a conviction, but I had a pretty low opinion of myself and was too ashamed to go home. I'd heard about this part-Aboriginal bloke who ran a cattle property on the western slopes of the Great Dividing Range. Apparently he'd had a tough upbringing so he tried to help troubled youngsters by teaching them all about working with horses and cattle and building their self-esteem.'
He led Quest into her stall, made sure she had feed and water. She nuzzled his chest and he stroked her long, proud neck.
'You're a beauty, girl,' he murmured. 'It would have saved me a lot of boot leather if I'd had you to ride over the range.'
'You walked? From Cairns?'
'I needed what little money I had to buy food. You can walk with sore feet, but not if your stomach's empty.'
Emma shook her head. No wonder he'd learned to ignore pain.
'So this man took you in?'
Drew nodded. 'During the year I was there, the number of teenagers he and his wife looked after fluctuated from six to ten. Black, white, country kids, city street kids. There was even a young girl from Sydney…'
Emma's interest quickened at the wistful tone in his voice. 'You…you liked her…'
Drew walked to the window and stared out.
'Yes. She was only seventeen but she'd been a prostitute for about a year to support her drug habit. When she couldn't take it any longer she left Sydney, found her way to the property and dried out.'
He fell silent, his gaze unseeing, his mind turned inwards.
For a fleeting moment he wondered why he was telling Emma something that was so intensely private. But the need to connect with her, to share a part of himself, to touch her soul, was compelling.
'She was tiny, with short blonde hair and fine blue veins under pale, pale skin.'
Emma realised he was describing the girl in detail that betrayed their intimacy. He looked across at her now, the blueness of his eyes startling, obviously matching the depth of his feelings.
Had he searched for fine blue veins as he'd made love to her last night? A fist seemed to clutch at her heart at the thought.
'She taught me about sex. For all my bravado that was one area I had yet to gain experience in.' He caught Emma's quick intake of breath and read the concern in her eyes. 'Don't worry, I've been tested for AIDS. I'm negative.' A wistful half-smile
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