The Bark Cutters by Nicole Alexander Page A

accent. Then, more loudly, ‘I was talking about real blondes.’
    â€˜Oh, get away. I would rather spend my time with Anthony.’
    â€˜Sorry.’ Anthony gave an apologetic grin and took his elbows off the bar as she approached him. ‘I’m too busy working for the Gordons to have any spare time for romancing.’ Plus, he was hardly going to cut Cameron’s lunch.
    â€˜Really?’ Lottie responded, her grey eyes crinkling up under a thoughtful frown as she threw Sarah another kiss-of-death stare. ‘Suppose that depends on your definition of working.’
    The bar erupted again into bellows of laughter.
    â€˜She’s got you there, Anthony,’ Cameron nodded towards his sister.
    Sarah took a gulp of her drink. She could feel her face heating up under the room’s scrutiny.
    â€˜Less travel involved,’ one of the shearers commented. ‘And you know what they say about the end of the rainbow.’ He sniggered into his schooner glass.
    â€˜All right, all right, enough speculation on my sister’s list of suitors. We should be discussing mine.’ Cameron quickly diverted the conversation to himself and away from Sarah, whose face was now the colour of a tomato.

Lorna Sutton, forty years of age with the fatty folds of an overfed pig, knew breeding. The Scot, well, he was breeding. They said he came from just over the border from England, had been raised near Sir Malcolm himself in a fine manor house and, upon the loss of his family in a terrible fire, come to start anew in Australia. Wasn’t it just God himself bringing the man to her door and she with a learned daughter? Lorna crossed herself in thanks, her pudgy fingers patting dry her sweating chest with the bed linen.
    â€˜Well?’
    The man’s voice startled her from her daydreams.
    Lorna rolled off the bed. Kneeling on the floor she positioned herself between his thighs. What about his money? She’d not been able to find out where he kept it. Not that she felt the temptation to steal it, mind. She was not a thief. It was just that she believed she would feel so much better if it was safe. A hand pulled her head harder towards him, twisting his fingers through her hair.Grimacing, Lorna did as she was bidden, sucking harder until he gripped her head tightly between his palms, before pushing her sprawling to the floor.
    Wiping her lips and chin, Lorna scurried into a shift, before pouring water into the porcelain basin on the washstand.
    â€˜Nothing else has come to hand?’ Matthew Reynolds asked as he wrung out the wash cloth in the cool water and swiped roughly at his body.
    Lorna shook her head, no.
    He splashed water beneath each hairy armpit and then rubbed his member vigorously.
    â€˜Well, stupid or not, the man’s got money. You keep him here, Lorna. Make sure he takes up with that lass of yours. If he’s gonna be a-spending his money, in Ridge Gully it will be.’ Matthew Reynolds pulled his clothes on, placed some coins on the bed in his spare room and walked out.
    Closing the door quietly, Lorna began to wash carefully, lifting the folds of her skin to remove all traces of his scent. So, she had lain with him for that. He knew as much about the Scot as she did, and he too wanted his money. Well, her intent remained firm. Mr Gordon would take up with her Rose; the girl had the looks and was untouched, unlike her mother, Lorna giggled to herself. But that was all she could be expected to do. After all, she had a daughter to marry off and her own comforts to be thinking of. Stepping into her dress, Lorna smiled demurely at her surroundings. The nice wooden bedhead with the carved ball posts, the matching washstand, even a marginally fine wardrobe and the bedspread. She ran pudgy fingers over the patchwork of green, blues and reds. Oh, she so liked fine things. Lorna snatched up the coins and counted them twice. She’d be needing to purchase a few items if she were to