Читать онлайн «A Bride At Birralee»
Автор Hannay Barbara
“I see marriage as the best solution to your problem. ”
Totally shocked, Stella struggled for breath. “Are you telling me you want to marry me off to someone?”
Callum gave the faintest of nods.
“How dare you?” She jumped to her feet. This wasn’t something she could take sitting down. “So, who’s the poor sucker you think I should trap into marriage?”
There was a beat of time before he said, very simply, “I am. ”
Barbara Hannay was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical north Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.
A Wedding at Winderoo (#3794)
In Harlequin Romance®
A Bride at Birralee
Barbara Hannay
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
SOMEONE was coming.
Callum Roper slouched against a veranda post and glared at the distant cloud of dust. In the outback, dust travelling at that speed meant one thing—a vehicle heading this way.
He wasn’t in the mood for visitors.
Turning his back on the view, he lowered his long body into a deep canvas chair and snapped the top off a beer. He took a deep swig and scowled. Truth was, he wasn’t in the mood for anything much these days! Even beer didn’t taste the same.
‘Why’d you have to do it, Scotty?’
He hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud, but there it was, lingering like the dust on the hot, still air. Why did you have to go and die? Damn you, Scotty.
Taking another, deeper swig, he grimaced. How long did it last, this grief business? His younger brother had been dead for six weeks now and he still felt as raw and hurt as he had the day the helicopter crashed and he’d first glimpsed Scott’s lifeless body in the cockpit.
Slumping lower in the canvas seat, he reached for the cattle dog at his side and rubbed the soft fur between its ears, willing himself to relax. But a picture of Scott’s sun-streaked curls, laughing brown eyes and cheeky grin swam before him. It was the face of an irrepressible larrikin. And it had gone for ever.
Late afternoons like this were the worst. This was the time of day he and Scott used to sit here on the veranda, having a beer and a yarn. His brother had been such damn good company. Drinking alone without Scott’s humorous recounts of their day wasn’t any kind of fun.
He cast a bitter glance over his shoulder towards the encroaching vehicle. Entertaining visitors without Scott’s easy banter would be hell!
