If so that meant she’d rather cleverly orchestrated her opposition to his proposal-she’d thought fast and on her feet.

Unless-had she always somehow divined that to make him chase her would have the curious appeal he’d actually confessed to her?

But did he really believe any of that of Maisie Wallis, feeling so soft now and lovely in his arms with her breath sweet on his neck and her lashes lying like dark fronds on her perfect skin? Hell, he thought suddenly, why am I putting myself through this?

Because you had no option, he reminded himself, other than freezing out there on the hard ground, or sitting upright in the chopper. Not to mention causing, no doubt, comment.

But what would be so bad about turning this into a real marriage, he wondered. The kind of suitable marriage he was beginning to think was going to be the solution for him.

Because it was becoming increasingly obvious to him that, for reasons known only to him-and Sonia-a fall madly and wildly in love marriage might not be on the cards for him.

I’ll tell you why it mightn’t work, he responded to himself: Tim Dixon’s baby. You might be able to cope with it and all the scenarios it raises in your mind in a marriage of convenience with no real love lost, but otherwise, who’s to say it wouldn’t become a real thorn in your side?

What does “otherwise” mean? he asked himself incredulously. That you could, against all probability, find yourself falling in love with Maisie Wallis?

The thought, and its implications, shook him. Another came hard on its heels: if she was hedging her bets but a secret part of her could never forget Tim, they could have the makings of a private little hell between them.

So was she right? he wondered with self-directed irony. Not only right but also honest when she’d said she was going to have to turn certain things off like a tap-to wit, feeling safe in his arms, although, he thought with further irony, she hadn’t been able to get that quite right yet.

Mind you, circumstances hadn’t helped on either occasion, he acknowledged.

But-he clenched his jaw and eased himself a little away from her-she wasn’t the only one going to have to nip certain things in the bud; so was he…

At least until he’d sorted whether this marriage could prove to be workable rather than a minefield.

When Maisie woke, dawn was lightening the sky and Rafe was fast asleep beside her. She sat up cautiously but he didn’t move.

The fire had died but there were sounds coming from beyond the shelter. She heard horses whickering, the creak of leather and the clink of metal shoes on rock. She heard subdued voices and a dog bark.

Al had explained to her last night that they would have to move the mob of cattle on to the next drinking hole as early as possible and she guessed that operation was getting underway, which meant that they’d also be striking camp.

She turned reluctantly to wake Rafe, to find that he’d opened his eyes, and she found herself drawn into a long exchange of glances with him that somehow took in the night they’d spent together in such close proximity.

Colour mounted in her cheeks as she remembered cuddling up to him this time and how wonderful it had felt.

But what she saw in his eyes, as she couldn’t hide what was in hers, affected her deeply. It was as if a shutter had come down so they were unreadable and steely grey.

‘Tea’s up!’ a voice called. ‘Tea’s up!’ And Al appeared carrying a blackened billycan with a rag wound round its handle, and two tin mugs. ‘Sorry to wake you guys but-’

‘That’s OK!’ Rafe sat up then got up and stretched. ‘Thanks, mate. We’ll get going pronto.’

And Maisie, after Al had departed, desperate for something to say to ease her discomfort, grumbled, ‘I don’t know why, but when there’s absolutely nothing between us we keep getting caught in bed by an audience!’

Whether it struck the right note or not, she didn’t know.

Rafe smiled briefly, a rather ironic little smile, then a moment of genuine mirth overtook them, followed by a touch of concern.

‘You-you look like a North American Indian,’ she said incredulously.

‘And if you could see yourself!’ He held down a hand to help her up, his eyes alight with laughter, then he ran his tongue over his teeth. ‘I can even taste the blasted dust.’ He paused as she put her hand to her back and grimaced. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing! Well, just a twinge. Probably even two swags on the ground take a bit of getting used to.’

‘Hmm…OK, have your tea-at least it’s hot and wet-and we’ll get going.’

It wasn’t until they’d farewelled the muster camp and the helicopter rose like a bird above it, that he told her of his change of plan. They were going home.

She protested that she was fine. He said he’d like to get it checked out all the same, and there was absolutely nothing she could do.

But she was unable to stop herself wondering if this was somehow bound up with that steely, shuttered look that had come to him and had made her feel so-what?

Rejected?

Could he be using it to get out of being in her close company for the next week?

I knew I should never have married him, she thought. I knew I was beyond the pale…

‘Maisie, how would you like to live?’

They were alone in the apartment on the river; it was the same evening. His doctor had checked her out meticulously in an evening house call, something she’d thought was unheard of these days. He’d pronounced that the baby appeared to be fine and she’d probably just been a bit stiff from a night of sleeping virtually on the ground.

‘Well, at least we know,’ Rafe said, and added his question.

‘How would I like to live?’ she echoed. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

They’d had dinner, sent up from the restaurant on the ground floor, causing her to marvel how easy life was for the rich. She’d also been drawn like a magnet to his magnificent sound system and asked if she could play some music. He’d told her she didn’t have to ask so she chose a CD of classical piano pieces.

‘We have a couple of options: this apartment, or I have a house at Raby Bay.’

‘Oh, look, whatever is best for you! I-don’t mind.’

He came to sit down on the settee set corner-wise opposite her.

There was a single lamp lit on the end table between the settees and its soft golden glow bathed them before receding into the coral shadows of the lounge.

Through the terrace doors, the lights of Brisbane twinkled against a midnight-blue backdrop although it was only about eight o’clock.

Maisie had changed into her heather outfit and, although her feet were bare, she was sitting rather primly upright with her hands in her lap, as if she didn’t feel particularly at home, which she didn’t.

Rafe also had bare feet but he looked much more relaxed in cargo shorts and a white knit shirt. In fact he had his feet propped on the coffee-table and one arm stretched along the back of the settee.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I can base myself anywhere within reason. You’re another matter. You’re going to need to feel at home, perhaps a bit involved with that home, and comfortable. This,’ he gestured towards the view, ‘may be a fabulous setting but I don’t know if it’s going to do that for you.’

Maisie took a startled breath. ‘How did you know?’

He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘That, well, a little while ago I was looking around and wondering what on earth I was going to do with myself here for the next five months.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not entirely insensitive.’

‘I didn’t say you were.’ She shook her head.

He watched her curls settle. ‘So would you like to look at Raby Bay? There’s a garden; it’s right on the water with a jetty, so I could move the Mary-Lue there for-any free time we have. The other advantage of it is that Sonia only lives a couple of blocks away.’

‘Yes, please. It’s also closer to my stamping ground, the bay-side suburbs of Wynnum, Cleveland and so on, so-I would feel more at home, I guess.’

‘All right, we’ll do it tomorrow. Tell me something else. Were you serious about wanting to get your Master’s Degree in music?’

She sat forward eagerly. ‘Yes!’

‘How would you go about it?’

‘I’d have to enroll as an external student, I’d have to get a tutor, I’d have to practise,’ she looked comical, ‘day and night. And it could take years.’

‘I gather you’d also need a piano?’

‘No, my piano is fine. I’d just have to get it tuned after it’s moved. Am I dreaming or is this all possible?’ she asked.

He studied the excited little glint in her eyes as he thought, all? It didn’t take much to please Maisie Wallis.

‘It’s all possible. Now, Miss Mozart, it’s been a long day, you need to get to bed. Incidentally, I checked with the Flying Doctor. They operated on the ringer at Charleville Hospital and he’s regained movement in his legs.’

‘That’s wonderful!’ Maisie brightened, and discovered for some strange reason that the news made her feel better about being dismissed to bed like a child, despite the fact that she’d started to feel weary. ‘OK. Goodnight! And thanks!’ she called over her shoulder.

‘Goodnight,’ he murmured, and watched her all the way out of the lounge.

Then he rubbed his jaw, set his teeth for a moment but finally congratulated himself on his executive abilities even when it came to his home life…

Maisie fell in love with the two-storey Raby Bay house as soon as she saw the stone walls and blue shutters.

It stood on two blocks in the prestigious canal-side estate-the canals opened on to Moreton Bay. From the street side it was enclosed by a high stone wall and it was surrounded by trees, some carrying a light cloak of new spring green.