Outback Sunset (4 page)

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Bren said, his tone sincere.

Vanessa’s returning smile was tinged with sadness. ‘It was a long time ago. I was twelve when I lost both my parents in a train crash.’

Bren nodded solemnly. ‘That must have been tough. My father passed away seven months ago. I
inherited his cattle station and run it with help from my younger brother.’ He pointed to Curtis who was leaning over the pool table to make a shot. ‘That’s him over there. Curtis is a crack pool player.’

Vanessa’s gaze flicked towards the pool table then back to Bren Selby. Polite interest was in her tone as she asked, ‘Where is your station, Bren?’

‘In the Kimberley, a hundred or so kilometres south west of Kununurra. It’s not as huge as some, roughly one hundred and ninety-five thousand hectares. It’s called Amaroo Downs. We run about eight thousand head of cattle there, mostly Brahman.’

Vanessa laughed, ‘That sounds huge. Isn’t that about the size of Wales?’

‘Not quite, but it is pretty big,’ Bren advised with a pleased grin.

‘Must keep you busy,’ Fay interceded. ‘You know Linford Downs Station, of course? Barry and I are friends of Simon and Kathy Johns.’

‘The Johns are our closest neighbours.’

The band started to play again, and this time the tune had a slow beat to it. Bren gathered his courage and looked at Vanessa. ‘Care to dance?’

‘What about your two left feet?’ Vanessa teased.

He smiled as he got to his feet. ‘I’ll do my best to control them.’

Holding Vanessa in his arms, not too close, but not too far away, did the most amazing things to him. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his sweaty palms, and the hesitancy in his steps as he tried his darnedest not to step on her feet. Miraculously he didn’t. She was so tall that they could look into each other’s eyes. Hers were a rich, warm brown flecked
with gold. Very unusual, he decided. Vanessa Forsythe, such a nice name, was the loveliest woman he had ever met, and he’d met a few in his thirty-four years. He’d loved a few too, and been engaged twice, but
this
woman …

Christ, he couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He was falling under some kind of spell and the spell-maker was — Vanessa. Another interesting thing was that she had no idea of her capabilities. From the responses she made he knew that she was just being pleasantly polite. But an English reserve was there, below the surface politeness and it made him wonder, was she getting over a broken relationship? That could explain the stand-offishness and why a gorgeous-looking woman such as herself was travelling alone. There had to be a reason why she preferred her own company. He longed to ask so many questions other than the standard, ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’, ‘Do you like Australia?’, but commonsense and the manners drummed into him by his mother, stopped him. Besides, he’d rather she vouch information about herself instead of him trying to prise it out of her.

They enjoyed another dance — and he only stepped on her foot once, something of a record for him.

‘I think I have to call it a night,’ Vanessa announced as the dance finished. ‘I’ve heaps of packing to do and …’

‘How about one for the road?’ Bren tried to talk her into another drink.

‘Thanks, not this time, Bren. Really, I should go.’

Desperate to keep the contact going as long as possible he offered, ‘We could share a taxi back to town. I’m staying at the All Seasons Hotel, it’s near Rydges. That’s where you’re staying, isn’t it?’ He’d heard Fay mention the hotel’s name in conversation. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Okay,’ he accepted her decision. She didn’t know him from Adam and she was smart enough not to hop into a taxi with a stranger. Fair enough. A woman on her own had to be careful these days. ‘When’s your flight?’

‘10.00 a.m.’

He watched her say goodbye to the people at the table, those she’d been touring with.

‘I’ll write in a few weeks, after you’ve had time to settle,’ Fay Whitcombe promised.

‘Please do, especially if you and Barry plan to come to London in late June, for Wimbledon. We’ll catch up then,’ Vanessa answered as she gave Fay, then Barry, a hug.

Bren insisted on staying with her while she waited for a taxi. Unfortunately, a vacant one came along too soon as far as he was concerned.

‘Nice to have met you, Bren Selby,’ Vanessa said with an informal smile. She held out her hand. ‘Don’t work too hard on that station of yours.’

As he grasped her hand in his large one, Bren was extraordinarily conscious of his reaction to her. It made him feel — bloody fantastic. God, how could he walk away from her, from what he was feeling? It was too damned special. Somehow he controlled the urge to let her see his reactions. Too soon for that.

‘Yeah,’ he grinned at her. ‘I know the axiom: all work and no play … Have a safe trip home, Vanessa.’

Bren could have asked for her phone number, her address. He didn’t, but not because he didn’t want to. He did, desperately. He didn’t because he believed she wouldn’t give it to him and he chose not to risk a second rebuff. Closing the taxi door after she’d got in he watched it until it was out of sight. He had a lot on his plate right now: Amaroo Downs was in need of attention, and his mother was becoming more, not less demanding as she tried to cope with being a widow. Somehow, though, he would track Vanessa down … And when he did, he’d use every means at his disposal to make her fall in love with him.

His jaw clamped down with determination as he turned on his heel to go and find Curtis. People, family, those who knew him well, knew that when Brendan James Selby put his mind towards a goal, he didn’t give up until he’d achieved it.

‘You’re out of your head. You do know that, don’t you?’

Bren threw Curtis a baleful glance before he continued to pack his bag. ‘You don’t understand, mate, I have to go. I can’t think straight, haven’t been able to for two months, not since that night at Fannie Bay. Geez, Curtis, you saw her. Saw how beautiful she was. It’s like something is eating me up inside, in my gut. If I don’t …’

‘Christ, Bren, she’s only a woman,’ Curtis cut in, ignoring his brother’s annoyed intake of breath. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard his brother wax lyrical over Vanessa ‘what’s her name’ but flying half way around the world to see her ’cause he had the hots for her made no sense. ‘Fair bloody dinkum,
Bren, wise up,’ he let his exasperation show. ‘She doesn’t know you exist.’

‘Just because you’ve turned into a woman hater because of what your wife, Georgia, did, don’t judge all women by her actions.’

‘My ex-wife, thank you!’ Curtis corrected. ‘I don’t hate women, I just don’t trust them and,’ he paused to gather his thoughts, ‘don’t change the subject. What you’re doing is madness. You’re likely to come a real gutser, you know.’

‘Perhaps I will,’ Bren conceded matter-of-factly. ‘Be that as it may, I’ve never felt like this before about any woman, not even Donna and Maddy when I was engaged to them. All I know is, I have to try. If she turns me down, well, then I guess I’ll have to live with that.’

‘But it’s the worst time to go. There’s work to do here. And, in case it’s slipped your mind, the station’s not exactly flush financially,’ Curtis reminded him. ‘Dad, the poor bugger, due to his illness, made several unsound business decisions. The debts are killing us. We’ll have to work flat out and live lean for a few years to pay them off.’

‘I know.’ Grey eyes looked directly into Curtis’s. ‘It’s a risk I’m prepared to take. Besides, you and Reg can organise and run Amaroo Downs as well if not better than I can.’

Curtis had to agree with that. ‘We both know that Reg, by himself, could run the place with one hand tied behind his back.’ As head stockman, Reg Morrison was exceptional and had been at Amaroo for almost eighteen years. ‘That’s not the point though. Dad left the place to you, not me.’

There was no rancour in his brother’s tone, but Bren felt compelled to say, ‘Which wasn’t my choice, as you well know. Dad had this outdated nineteenth century idea about the eldest son inheriting the property. It wasn’t what I wanted.’

‘I’m okay with it, Bren.’

Matthew Selby had seen that his wife and his other children, Curtis and Lauren were well catered for financially. That Matthew had decided to keep up the tradition set by their grandfather, English-born Robert Selby, of the eldest son inheriting the main property, Amaroo Downs, was something Curtis didn’t agree with, but would never legally dispute. Their father had continued the tradition because
he
had inherited Amaroo the same way, over his brother, Stuart. At the time Stuart had been mightily disgruntled by Robert’s will. His uncle had taken his cash inheritance and forged a successful career in the pearling industry in Broome, and later, in tourism. Today, Stuart and his wife, Diane, were reputedly multi-multi-millionaires with a lifestyle that far outstripped what Curtis and Bren had at Amaroo Downs.

‘Mum won’t be pleased that you’re running off to chase a piece of skirt.’

‘It’s not Mum’s business and,’ Bren gave him a dark look, ‘I don’t care for your tone. Vanessa isn’t just “a piece of skirt” to me. Show some respect. If things work out the way I hope, she’s the woman I intend to marry.’

Curtis ran a hand through his short, brownish-blond hair. Bren had a short fuse temper and it wasn’t clever to rile him when his emotions where
tied up in knots. Younger by three years, Curtis was taller and slimmer than Bren and in earlier days had never beaten his older brother in a wrestle or a fair fight.

‘Marry? Hell, Bren, if you could hear yourself, you sound like a moonstruck adolescent.’

‘I’m a bit old for that, but,’ Bren shrugged a shoulder diffidently, ‘I don’t care. This is something I have to do and nothing you, Mum or anyone might say will make me change my mind.’

‘Okay, okay!’ Curtis threw up his hands in defeat. ‘How long will you be away?’

‘I don’t know. As long as it takes,’ Bren replied, his smile a silent challenge. ‘Felicia and Alex Montgomery have offered to put me up at their flat in Mayfair.’

Alex, an old school mate who lived in London had, during the month, faxed him some interesting and enlightening information on Vanessa Forsythe, information that might have put a lesser man off. She was not the out-of-work actress she’d purported to be to her tourist friends. Vanessa was an exceedingly well known English dramatic actress with a string of successes and awards to her name. He hadn’t told Curtis that because he knew what his brother would do; try to throw more obstacles in his way. That Curtis didn’t want him to get hurt was obvious and brotherly of him, but going to London was something Bren absolutely, positively had to do.

‘When will you be off?’

‘My flight leaves the day after tomorrow.’ He gave Curtis an appealing look. ‘I’ll need to hitch a chopper ride to Darwin tomorrow morning.’

An unhappy, gravelly sound issued from Curtis’s throat. ‘Sure, you’re the boss,’ he grumbled tongue-in-cheek, then he hightailed it out of the room before the boot Bren threw at him could find its mark.

Shaking his head, Bren chuckled at his brother’s quick response. Curtis could still move fast. For several minutes, while he packed, he thought over what his younger, eminently sensible brother had said. Was he making the biggest mistake of his life? Was he chasing a dream that had no chance of becoming a reality? Maybe he was a fool … Curtis hadn’t exactly said that he was, but the expression in his eyes to that effect had been child’s play to read.

Bren stopped doing what he was doing to move to the window. He pushed the curtain back to look beyond the machinery shed and the stockmen’s quarters to the land. Puddles that were left over from the rain dotted the front lawn and the various yards beyond the homestead’s fence and were beginning to dry up. A welcome, fine layer of green grass was sprouting from the red earth. Within weeks, as the sun dried the moisture, the grass would turn yellow but still be nutritious for stock. In the distance the foothills of the northern part of the Durack Range were greening too, under a cloudless sky.

The muscles in Bren’s chest tightened with pride as he breathed the air coming in through the open window. It was still moist, with a faint earthiness to it. Amaroo Downs, his very own considerable piece of land and sky. Near the fence that separated the
house from the other station buildings and stock, stood two Brahman poddy calves. They were waiting for their bottles of milk and getting impatient to be fed.

He fancied that he knew just about every centimetre of Amaroo and he knew the risk he was taking in leaving. Christ! Hadn’t he spent more nights than he cared to number weighing up the pros and cons? All to no avail. He sighed and turned back to the bed. He had to go, something deep inside him was pulling him towards Vanessa and the need was too compelling to resist. He couldn’t sleep or function properly for thinking about her. It had been going on for two months without abating — that had to mean something. Incredible as it was, in just one night he had developed feelings for her and they ran deep.

It was as if she had infected his blood, his heart and his soul. He knew one thing: he had to take up the challenge of finding her and, if he were lucky — he’d always been a lucky bugger when it came to women — he would win her heart. What came after that, lifestyle, career decisions, well, frankly, he hadn’t a clue. He and Vanessa would work that out when the time came …

B
ren was nervous and he didn’t mind admitting it, if only to himself. He’d arrived in London two days ago, been met by the Montgomerys and slept off the jet lag, after which he had fielded an angry phone call from his mother, who had suggested in the strongest possible terms that he come home immediately. His equally forceful rejection of that suggestion had been met with several seconds of stony silence, then she’d hung up on him. Grimacing at the memory of it, he shook his head as he fiddled with the angle of his bow-tie. Sometimes his mother was a real trial …

Since his father’s death, Hilary Selby’s life had lacked direction and because it had she took her frustration out on other members of the family. When Dad had fallen ill, his mother had taken over the running of Amaroo Downs, much to his and Curtis’s frustration. After his father’s death Hilary Selby had wanted to continue running the show, but the specifics of the will, that he had to manage Amaroo Downs to secure his inheritance, had precluded that, and added disgruntlement to the grief she’d felt at losing the man she loved.