Читать онлайн «The Bridesmaid's Best Man»

Автор Hannay Barbara

Barbara Hannay

The Bridesmaid’s Best Man

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

AS DUSK settled over the mustering camp, Mark Winchester stepped away from the circle of stockmen crouched around the open fire. He turned his back on them and stood very straight and still, staring across the plains of pale Mitchell grass to the distant red hills.

The men shrugged laconically and let him be. After all, Mark was the boss, the owner of Coolabah Waters, and everyone knew he was a man who kept his troubles to himself.

But as Mark shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans he was grateful the men couldn’t guess that his thoughts were centred on a woman. He couldn’t quite believe it himself. It didn’t seem possible that he was out here, in the middle of the first big muster on this newly acquired cattle property, and still haunted by memories of a girl he’d met in London six weeks ago.

The focus of his life was here—caring for his stock and his land, building an Outback empire. Until now, women had only ever been a pleasant diversion at parties or race meetings, or during occasional trips to the city. But, no matter how hard he’d tried to forget Sophie Felsham, she had stayed in Mark’s head for six long weeks.

Even now, at the end of a hard day’s muster, he was staring at the fading sky, at the copper-tinted plains and burnt-ochre hills, but he was seeing Sophie as he’d seen her first in London. He could see her coming down the aisle in a floaty, pale pink bridesmaid’s gown, her arms full of pink flowers, her grey eyes sparkling and her lips curved in an impossibly pretty smile. Her skin clear and pale as the moon. So soft.

The crazy thing was, they’d only spent one night together.

When they’d parted, they’d agreed that was the end of it. And to Mark’s eternal surprise he’d managed to sound as casual about that as Sophie had—as if one night of amazing passion with a beautiful stranger was nothing out of the ordinary.

The next day he’d flown back to Australia. There’d been no fond farewells, no promises to keep in touch. They’d both agreed there wasn’t much sense.

Which was exactly how it should have been. It made no sense at all that he’d been tormented and restless ever since.

‘Hey, boss!’

Mark swung around, jerked into the present by the excited cry of a young jackaroo, a newly apprenticed stockman.

‘There’s a long-distance phone call for you,’ the boy shouted, waving the satellite phone above his head. ‘It’s a woman! And she’s got an English accent!’

A jolt streaked through Mark like a bullet from an unseen sniper. A stir rippled through the entire camp. The quiet chatter of the men around the fire stopped, and the ringer mending his saddle paused, his long iron needle suspended above the leather. Everyone’s amused and curious glances swung to Mark.

He knew exactly what the men were thinking: why would an English woman be ringing the boss way out here?