Red Dust Dreaming (4 page)

She dragged one of the cases over to the bed. Heaving it up she opened the lid and began to dig out the endless presents her parents had sent Luke. Each gift was carefully wrapped and represented a missed birthday or Christmas. She had no idea what was in any of them and hoped her mother had selected well. Knowing Sylvia she would have researched the latest trends for five year-olds and bought accordingly. Or had her personal assistant do the job. Would a high tech toy translate from New York to this strange land? She didn't know the answer to that question but hoped the gifts would break the ice with Luke.

Once she had finished unpacking the first case Elizabeth kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed. The white
broderie anglaise
counterpane looked so inviting and her head thumped with exhaustion, both physical and emotional. She stretched revelling in the sensation of her muscles lengthening and contracting. Above her head a ceiling fan did lazy laps for show while an air conditioner did the hard work over in the corner, humming soothingly.

Closing her eyes she listened for other sounds in the house. The murmur of voices from the kitchen was the only other sound. I bet they're talking about me, she thought. How she wished Angela was here so they could curl up together on the bed and gossip like they did when they were kids. She'd ask Angela about Caden, about why he didn't like her, and about why she couldn't help but like him even though she was trying really hard not to. She yawned and rolled over on to her side. Angela would tell her all of Caden's secrets if only she were here.

Elizabeth awoke to thick shadows creeping across the bedroom floor. How long had she been asleep? She rubbed her itchy eyes before stretching languidly. Sleep hadn't been on her agenda. Her intention had been to have a little rest before tackling chez Carlyle again. Caden was one tough customer. At least this time she'd be bearing gifts which might go some way to softening the man's hard attitude.

She rolled over on to her stomach, and propped her chin on her hands. Angela used to sleep in this room, dream in this room. Had she missed her family? Her eyes roved over the pile of presents sitting on the floor. The past played out like an old movie in her mind's eye. She could think of a dozen times when Angela had defied their parents, always quick to rail against the restrictions they imposed. The last straw had been Angela's marriage to a man her mother deemed socially unacceptable.

Elizabeth pushed back until she was sitting upright. If this had been Angela's room then there would be photos somewhere surely. She swung her legs off the bed and padded over to the dresser. A photo of Luke as a baby sat in a silver frame. Next to it a shot obviously taken at Christmas. Angela, Caden and Luke captured in a moment of laughter.

She picked up the photo and studied it closely. Angela looked carefree and happy. How old was the photo? Did her sister already knew her fate or not? Luke's head was thrown back as he gazed up at Caden whose face clearly showed his affection for the little boy. Elizabeth sighed and placed the frame back on the dresser. Angela may have cut off her flesh and blood but she'd found a family all of her own here in the Outback.

The top draw stuck a little as she pulled it open. Inside lay several more photos each carefully framed. On top sat the picture she was looking for of Angela's husband, Mitch. Dashing in his Marine uniform she could see how her sister had fallen for him. Their mother had been outraged when Angela eloped with Mitch, denying Sylvia a much desired society wedding. Perhaps Sylvia's reaction might have been dampened if Angela had chosen a man from her parent's echelon. But she hadn't. The last straw had come when Angela announced her pregnancy.

Elizabeth placed Mitch's photo back in the draw and slammed it shut. The contents rattled with the force. At least Angela had carved her own path, found happiness however fleeting. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. While her sister had loved and lost, become a mother, Elizabeth had let her parents talk her into abandoning her arts degree for law, had let them mould her into a successful corporate lawyer. A successful single corporate lawyer.

What was done was done.

She turned to her case and rummaged about for something to wear. Pulling out a simple blue t-shirt and a pair of shorts the colour of clotted cream she hesitated for a moment. There were other prettier combinations in her luggage. Perhaps she should choose something more flattering to wear… An image of Caden long and lean skittered across the surface of her mind. Elizabeth arrested her wayward thoughts before they could go any further. Who cared what Caden thought of her? So what if he found her pretty or not. What on earth was she doing entertaining thoughts like that? She gave herself a good mental shake. Caden hated her or at the very least loathed her. Whatever stories Angela had told him hadn't included the bit about the two sisters being close, at least during their childhood. She couldn't hope to change his opinion of her in such a short time but the situation would be better for everyone, especially Luke, if they could give the appearance of getting along.

She draped her clean clothes over one arm and grabbed her toiletry bag along with the fluffy towel provided for her, then went in search of the bathroom.

***

Caden took a break from the ledgers as he struggled to focus. The numbers had been running together for the last half hour and he'd just read the same column twice without taking anything in. Despite his best efforts his thoughts kept returning to Elizabeth. Angela's will hadn't been found. The Langtrees intended to apply to be the boy's legal guardians and Caden had no rights at all yet a part of him chaffed that Luke could be taken away from him, from them all, so easily. Kirrkalan was the only home Luke had ever known. Surely that counted for something. Caden, along with the rest of the station staff, had helped raise him. They were family. He wished there was some way he could stop it, make Elizabeth see Luke belonged here rather than in New York with strangers.

Leaving his office Caden wandered to the kitchen where he poured himself a long glass of cold water straight from the fridge. As he closed the fridge door he noticed a photo of Luke and Thelma covered in flour from a baking lesson gone horribly wrong. They were both laughing, the camera capturing the joy of the moment perfectly.

He sighed and wandered out to the veranda, letting the screen door bang loudly behind him. The sun had begun its slide towards the horizon. If he had to choose a favourite part of the day it would be these hours before dusk or the one just before dawn as Nature gathered herself for the transition. He sat in one of the chairs gracing the veranda and propped his feet up on the railing.

The screen door squeaked open and Caden made a mental note to oil the hinges, one of those jobs that kept falling through the cracks. He didn't need to turn his head to know Elizabeth stood looking at him. All the hairs on the back of his neck stood up with a kind of preternatural awareness. He swore he could feel her breathing.

“Good afternoon,” he said keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Did you enjoy your nap?”

Elizabeth stepped towards him. “I did thank you. The time difference is playing havoc with my body. I don't know how people travel back and forth all the time.”

She sat in the chair next to him and he shifted uncomfortably. “It's easier when you're going back the other way.” Small talk. Safe topic. He sensed rather than saw her nod her head in agreement.

“So I hear.” A silence opened up between them and he braced himself for whatever came next.

She drew a breath, “I was hoping to spend some time with Luke this afternoon. Do you know where he is?”

Caden relaxed a little. Another safe topic. “Luke is out riding a fence line with one of the head stockman's boys.”

Elizabeth stretched out her bare legs as she settled back into her chair. They appeared longer than she was tall and he struggled to keep his eyes off them. “It's generous of you to give the stockman time off of his duties to take the boys riding.”

“I didn't. The boys are old enough to ride the home paddock fence line.”

“You mean you let two little boys out…” she waved her arm at the sweeping landscape, “…out there alone with no adult supervision.” Her voice raised an entire octave.

“Luke has been on the back of a horse since before he could walk and the other boy is nearly ten. They are riding sedate, mature horses around an area which is well marked. There is no danger of them riding off into the desert never to be found again.” Caden figured Elizabeth had watched Meryl Streep in
A Cry in the Dark
and now her imagination was running wild.

“That's not the point. What if something happened to one of them? What if a horse bolted or a snake attacked…”

“Snakes don't attack as a rule. They tend to steer clear of us as we prefer to steer clear of them.” He kept his voice level and reasonable.

“You know what I mean,” she snapped rising out of her chair to lean against the rail. Her eyes scanned the horizon for Luke. “What time are you expecting them back?”

Caden shrugged even though he knew she couldn't see him. “In time for dinner. He'll come in when he gets hungry.”

She spun about to face him, her eyes wild with alarm. “But what if night falls and he's not back?”

He was up out of his chair before the act registered in his mind, driven by a primeval need to comfort her. There was something vulnerable about those big blue eyes which hooked him hard. He managed to stop his hands from reaching out to her a moment before he could embarrass them both. “The boys know to come in before the sun dips behind the hill. This is not the first time they've ridden out together, and it won't be the last.”

Elizabeth looked up at him then, all her concern on display for him to see. She wrapped her arms around herself as if to comfort her own fears. “He can't just wander off in New York.”

“And he won't. He doesn't know New York like he knows Kirrkalan.”

“But he's only five years old. How can he know anything without an adult there to guide him?”

“What are you implying?” A coldness took up residence in the centre of Caden's chest. What was she saying? That he hadn't provided adequate supervision, that he'd been neglectful?

“I didn't mean any offense!” She must have sensed the drop in temperature between them.

He blew out a breath and took a beat before speaking. “Look Miss Langtree, I was out riding when I was Luke's age. He's not off droving for goodness sake. He's just gone for a bit of a ride before dinner. Out here in the country that's a perfectly normal thing for a child to do. He is arguably safer here than riding the subway in New York City.”

“Maybe it is a normal activity for a child born to this land. You are of this land but Luke—”

He cut her off, impatience lacing his voice. “Luke was born to this land too. Don't forget that. Kirrkalan is the only home he's ever known. Angela gave birth to him right here in the homestead. This is as much his home as it is mine.”

“Really, Mr. Carlyle?” Her voice dripped with acid, gone any pretence of friendliness to be replaced by what he thought must be her courtroom demeanour. He had to admit it was impressive. She drew herself up to her full height, her eyes steely in the dying light. “That may be so but Luke will be returning to New York with me whether you like it or not. His place is with his grandparents, his
family
.” The emphasis she put on the word family sent him the clear message she didn't consider him part of Luke's future in any way and his heart constricted at the thought of never seeing the boy again.

Caden folded his arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels, trying to dampen down the anger threatening to blaze forth. “Really, Miss Langtree? Well, I for one want to be there when you tell Luke you're tearing him apart from all he's ever known to take him back the people his mother ran away from. Should be a very interesting conversation.”

Her eyes flashed and her hands balled into fists at her side. She was good and mad, a tell-tale flush creeping along her finely sculpted cheek bones. Her blonde hair, cut short with a sweeping fringe just begged to be messed up and his hand itched for the task. But it was her lips that held him in thrall. He'd only just noticed how lush and kissable they were. “I owe it to my parents to bring their only grandchild home,” she said between clenched teeth.

“And what do you owe Angela?” he asked enjoying her recoil at the sound of her sister's name. He unfolded his arms and leaned towards her, closer, closer until he could smell the freshly washed scent of her. She stood her ground and her flush grew deeper as he drew nearer. “What do you owe yourself?” he drawled low and soft before spinning on his heel to leave her standing in the twilight.

Elizabeth leaned against the veranda rail her blood pounding in her ears, her skin tingling where his breath had caressed it. She took in a long deep breath and released it slowly. Her knees wobbled as she made her way to a chair. Sitting would be good right now. Caden Carlyle had been so close she could have kissed him. The thought had crossed her mind, had it crossed his?

She scrunched up her eyes and shook her head. Foolish girl, she berated herself. He was Angela's man, or had been. What had he said? What did she owe Angela? Good question. Massaging her temples with a gentle motion to ease the tension threatening to become a headache, she pondered the answer.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the long, lean length of him cross the yard heading around the far side of the house where the stables were located. No doubt he'd gone to get Luke for her. Was she really such a fusspot as he made out? Perhaps she was. Memories of her own childhood summers spent riding horses flittered through her mind. Of course she'd ridden at a riding school but she had often ridden out along the woodland trails with a friend unsupervised. How old had she been? Maybe eight or nine.