Red Dust Dreaming (2 page)

“I told you, he's very thorough,” said Sylvia primly.

“Naturally.” She slid the picture back into the folder. There would be information on Angela in there too. Elizabeth wanted to be alone when she read that. “You know, I think I might like to take a walk before dinner,” she said with false brightness.

“Yes, of course.” Gerald was on his feet. “This is a lot to take on board and we know we're asking a great deal of you.” Elizabeth stood and her father put his arm around her shoulders, gently guiding her to the door. He gave her a squeeze. “It's for the best, Queen Bess. I'm sure your sister would want her son to grow up amongst family with all the same advantages she had.”

Elizabeth glanced up at his use of her childhood nickname. No one ever called her Queen Bess except him, and he did so rarely. She halted for a moment at the door leading on to the back porch. Holding the folder to her chest she pondered the wisdom of pointing out the fact Angela hated her childhood in the rarefied boarding schools they were both forced to occupy but thought better of it. Angela had told them often enough herself to no avail. Instead she reached up on tiptoe and kissed her father. He patted her gently on the back before she stepped out, heading towards the beach.

The wind caught her as she hit the water's edge. The golden sand, pleasingly rough beneath her feet, stretched for miles before her inviting the solitude she so craved. Leaving her parent's house behind she walked until the churning thoughts in her head had stilled enough for her to take in the information contained in the folder. Elizabeth chose a spot in the sunshine and sat with the wind at her back.

She slowly read the report. Her sister had created a life so alien to their childhood, living in the middle of the desert in a foreign country doing menial work. No wonder their mother actively cringed whenever forced to discuss her eldest daughter. Poor Sylvia had hoped for glamorous debutantes and had been visited with two rebellious wayward tomboys instead. The difference between the sisters was Angela never compromised her life for their parents while Elizabeth had caved, giving up her arts degree, her painting and her dreams to become what they wanted her to be — a perfect Langtree offspring.

The waves crashed on the beach, hissing gently as they withdrew only to crash once more in a soothing rhythm as old as time. Elizabeth let her thoughts drift before reading on. Her greatest regret was letting Angela withdraw from her, not insisting on maintaining contact, not helping Angela when she needed it the most.

How alone she must have felt when faced with having a child alone or with the fact she was dying! Idly Elizabeth drew a pattern in the sand, smoothed it over and drew it again. Maybe this was the chance to make it up to Angela, bring Luke home and ensure he got all the love and attention his mother had so craved but had been denied. Maybe for once her parents were right about something in a strange sort of way.

Reading the investigator's report unlocked a deep sadness within her. It ached like a nasty bruise that refused to heal. Elizabeth slotted the report on her sister back into the folder. She'd had as much as she could take today. The contents of the file would need to be digested piece by piece.

A gust of wind caught a page and tugged it free. She snatched it back before it tumbled down the beach and the photo of a man, dark and intense, caught her eye. Caden Carlyle, owner of Kirrkalan Station. The man looked out of the photo as if he'd known the photographer was taking it. The intensity of his gaze could be sensed as if he stood here on the beach with her instead of a million miles away. As if he already knew who she was. No denying he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Had Angela thought so too?

The sun dipped behind the dunes and a distinct chill settled in the air. Shoving the photo back in with the rest she snapped the folder shut and scrambled to her feet. Whether Caden Carlyle liked or not she was coming for a visit.

Caden watched as the light aircraft circled preparing to land. The winter sun beat down upon the runway and he shaded his eyes against the ferocious glare. He'd been dreading this moment for weeks. Leaning back on the grill of his ute he did his best to adopt a devil-may-care stance hoping to fool Elizabeth Langtree into thinking he was a cool customer. Nothing could be further from the truth. Miss Langtree had travelled all the way from New York to personally tear his life apart. What he really wanted to do was put her undoubtedly uptight arse back on a plane for the good ol' US of A before her Jimmy Choos could touch Kirrkalan soil.

The Cessna began its descent, the drone of its engine familiar and strangely comforting under the circumstances. Jeff Digby carried mail and supplies for Kirrkalan. Any visit from him was reckoned to be a good one, even if today might be considered an exception to the rule. Dust kicked up as the plane's wheels touched down. The stuff coated everything in a thick layer of ochre. Caden wondered how Miss Langtree would handle being covered in a perpetual film of red grit.

His heart began to thump as the plane taxied to a stop. He flexed his fingers and wiped his damp palms on his jeans. Since when did a woman make him nervous? The only female who'd got the better of him was his sure-footed mare, Frankie, and that was before they'd come to an agreement over who was the boss. Or the mistress as it turned out.

Caden pushed himself off the ute and walked towards the plane. He could see Jeff clearly through the glass but Miss Langtree remained indistinct. She'd be thin, uppity, nervous and worried about her clothes. Angela used to love watching Sex In The City so he figured he knew a thing or two about New York gals. That didn't stop him holding his breath as the door opened and a shapely leg appeared. He blinked as another one followed it. A shapely bottom encased in khaki shorts came into view and he watched, mesmerised as it seemed to bob up and down for a moment while its owner struggled to pull something out of the cockpit.

“G'day mate!” Jeff appeared rolling his eyes and putting on the worst cow-cocky accent Caden had ever heard, for the benefit of the visitor no doubt.

“Good to see you, Jeff. I've got strict instructions not to return without Thelma's copy of the Woman's Weekly. You better not let me down.” Caden shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels a little.

Jeff began unloading the plane. Suitcase after suitcase seemed to tumble forth from the tiny hold. Finally one Kirrkalan supply box was pulled out. Jeff carried it towards Caden and deposited it gently in his arms. “You tell Thelma she owes me a kiss when I see her next. Nearly had to leave this little lot behind.”

Caden took the box without taking his eyes from the pile of luggage which had blossomed like desert flowers out of nowhere. “You've got to be kidding me,” he said in a low voice.

“Nope mate, I'm not. And she's got more where that came from. Gotta make another trip to bring the rest. Whatever happened to packing light?” Jeff returned to the luggage pile and hefted a suitcase. “I'll give you a hand to load ‘em or you'll be here all night.”

Caden placed the box in the back of the Ute. He couldn't ignore the moment, the time had come to introduce himself to the mysterious over-packer Miss Elizabeth Langtree. Taking a deep breath he turned, intending to stride over to the plane hold out his hand and make the necessary introductions. Apparently Miss Langtree harboured a similar idea because as he turned he nearly ran right over the top of her. She stood behind him. The top of her head barely reached the top button of his shirt and he found himself looking down on a very delectable vision. He swallowed hard. Good looks had never factored into his vision of Angela's sister. Right now he realised just how foolish he'd been. Angela had been a good looking woman so why would he imagine her sister as a dried up old spinster?

He moved to step backwards, coming up against the side of the Ute. A pair of storm blue eyes regarded him solemnly from beneath a thick swathe of blonde hair. He suddenly had an empathetic appreciation for what it must be like to be an insect specimen collected and labelled. Her gaze pierced him and held him tight.

“Mr. Caden Carlyle? I'm Elizabeth Langtree. Nice to meet you.” He doubted she meant that. According to Angela her family was a bunch of cold, money hungry, self-serving individuals. He released her hand quickly, scorched by contact with the enemy.

“Welcome to the Northern Territory. I hope you had a decent trip.” He didn't mean a word of it.

She regarded him with a serious expression on her face, as if measuring his worth. “No matter how many times you read the itinerary it never prepares you for how long the journey really is. I've been travelling for days.”

Caden was taken aback at her candour. “Then you'll be needing a shower and some rest,” was all he could think of to say. She nodded in response, her eyes never leaving his face. If she had to ID him in a line up she'd recognise him first time. “If you'll excuse me.” He indicated to the pile of luggage slowly being whittled away by Jeff.

“Oh!” Elizabeth blushed to her hairline and hastily stepped back.

“Why don't you hop in the car while you wait? Get out of the sun.” He took momentary pity on her. For that split second in time she'd looked vulnerable and a little lost. He reached over and pulled the door open before he could change his mind. Giving her a brief nod, he strode off to help Jeff.

***

Elizabeth slid into the car seat with a sigh. Thank god that was over! She'd been dreading the first meeting with Caden Carlyle, aware she was very much on the back foot. The sun pressed against her skin with an unfamiliar heaviness. She'd stocked up on high factor sun block to protect her fair skin after reading all the warnings about sun exposure in the travel blogs. What everyone failed to mention was the radiance of the place; the way the sky vaulted overhead scattering the light so it fell with a peculiar intensity upon everything it touched.

The other thing that struck her was the silence. Apart from the sound of the men sorting out her luggage, talking low, there was nothing but the wind as it skipped over the scraggy bushes, snagging on branches as it went. She ran a finger along the edge of the window and a fine layer of red dust came away. How on earth did anyone cope with this? The entire landscape comprised of red dirt, relentless and inescapable.

While she waited she thought of Angela out here in the middle of nowhere. Had her sister loved this place? This man? Elizabeth shimmied down a little in her seat and sought Caden out in the car's side mirror. She caught glimpses of him as he came and went loading boxes and bags into the Ute. He looked different from his photo somehow. More rugged. More masculine. The camera hadn't captured the essence of the man. Broad muscular shoulders strained under his cotton shirt. His forearms were burnished brown by long years in the sun. She wondered how much else of him might be the same colour.

He stood talking to the pilot. Their words were lost on the wind. He laughed at something the other man said, his face free from the stern coldness that had greeted her. For a moment she wished he would look at her with the same warmth. His eyes were the most extraordinary colour, like burnt toffee. He'd looked at her as if she'd crawled out from under a rock and he was deciding whether to stamp on her or not. Yet she'd been unable to look away. She found him…. compelling. Yes, that's what he was. Nothing more, nothing less.

Elizabeth hadn't been prepared for the force that was Caden. Clearly the private investigator had never actually met the man. Caden Carlyle was so much more than the report indicated. A quiet power radiated off him; impossible to be ignored. No doubt he was going to be a strong adversary if rubbed up the wrong way. Elizabeth understood the trickiness of the situation. Luke had grown up here, never having known any other home in his short lifetime. And here she was, the alien aunt no one had ever heard of, turning up to take him away forever. She didn't blame Caden if he hated her on sight.

What looked like a hawk hovered in the distance, somewhere in the scrub its dinner scuttled about looking for shelter. She wondered how anything could hide in this dry, arid landscape. The plane's engine started up, loud in the empty stillness. Its departure meant her final isolation from civilisation as she knew it. The great open space surrounding her pressed in, shrinking her to insignificant size. She never felt like that in New York, amongst the concrete canyons and the surging humanity. Yet this place left her displaced, awkward and alone.

The car door screeched as it was wrenched open and Caden folded his tall frame behind the steering wheel. He moved with a surprising grace for one so large. She clasped her hands neatly in her lap and kept her eyes forward pretending not to notice anything about him. This situation would go better for everyone if they kept their interactions businesslike and she intended to do just that.

Caden started the engine without a word and they drove off down a dirt track in silence. Unused to travelling in rough terrain Elizabeth's spine jangled alarmingly at every bump. No such thing as a chiropractor out here. “Is it far to a sealed road?” she finally ventured, not sure she could take much more.

He shot her a quick look, something like incredulity flashed across his face. “This is the Outback, Miss Langtree. There are no sealed roads here. The Tanami Track, which is the closest thing to a highway around here, is entirely comprised of dirt.”

“Oh!” A blush stole over her cheeks and she desperately hoped he didn't notice. “I had no idea.”

“Why would you? I'm sure the Tanami Desert doesn't come up in conversation much in the Big Smoke.” He drove with his eyes straight ahead, his capable hands gripping the wheel.

She took a moment to study him. He looked so much a part of the landscape, at ease, while she had never been more out of her depth in her life. Her next question fought to leave her lips, only the fear of looking stupid in his eyes prevented her from unleashing it. They hit a pothole and the car bucked in protest. Elizabeth banged her head on the window; a flash of pain ignited a flame of annoyance. She was a New York corporate lawyer for chrissakes! Why should a farmer from Podunk-nowhere intimidate her?