The phone rang, pulling Dani out of sleep. Blearily, she recognized Becca’s voice. There had been another fire, this one at the ostrich facility. John was already there, rounding up ostriches, which had escaped out onto the road and along the beach through cut fences. Becca was on her way with coffee and sandwiches as soon as her mother, who lived on a small cottage on the farm, could come over and mind the children. “Is anyone with you?”
“Like who?” Dani suppressed a yawn, reluctantly alert. With stock on the road it was every landowner’s unspoken responsibility to pitch in and help round them up, and in this case some of the stock belonged to her. “Carter?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Dani sat bolt upright. “Why?” Although she already knew what Becca was getting at. Jackson’s Ridge was a small town and gossip spread like wildfire. Whether she was believed guilty or not, a lot of people had connected her with the crimes.
“If you were sleeping with him that would scotch the rumours.”
“Well, I’m not.” Dani fumbled for the lamp. Golden light flooded the room. “If I ever get the urge again, I’ll add that to my list of reasons.”
“I know it’s none of my business,” Becca said bluntly, “but there are plenty of women in Jackson’s Ridge who don’t need more than one reason, and you used to be one of them.”
“Used to.” Dani paused in the process of trying to locate her slippers with her toes. Carter and sex—her least favourite subjects. “Hold that thought, it’s past tense.”
“Maybe. In all the time I’ve known you—and that’s been a few years—he’s the only man you’ve ever slept with.”
Dani’s stomach sank. “Becca, I’ve got to go—”
Becca made a strangled sound. “Wait a minute. You were sweet on him before he went into the army. You haven’t slept with anyone else, have you? Ever. Just Carter.”
Dani slid her foot into one slipper, and finally managed to locate the second one. “You make that sound so final.”
“I think it might be.”
“Well don’t spread it around. I’m trying for a little damage control here.”
“You mean he doesn’t know?”
And she wasn’t about to tell him. She couldn’t see any reason to hand over that much power to any man, whether she was in love with him or not. “Look, I really have to go.”
Suddenly the prospect of chasing down ostriches was a lot more attractive than continuing this particular conversation.
The ostrich farm was a good ten kilometres away by road, but if she used the beach, it was only a twenty-minute ride on horseback. Since she was going to need a horse when she got there, the four-legged method of transport was an easy sell.
Dani changed into riding gear—jeans, short boots and an anorak with reflective stripes. The birds were out on the road, so she needed to be visible. Swiftly, she packed a small knapsack with a flashlight, a bottle of water and a sandwich—in all probability she would be out until dawn.
Minutes later, she’d caught and saddled Elsie, a tall quarter horse bred on the station. She had been Dani’s from her birth and was as much a pet as a working horse. Swinging into the saddle, Dani sidled up to the open gate and grabbed the broom she’d propped there. After watching Jim struggle to control the canny, long-necked birds, there was no way she was going near them without an “equalizer.”
The moon was out and the ocean was quiet as Dani let Elsie pick her way down the hill and onto the hard-packed sand above the water line. Even this far away from the fire, the scent of smoke tainted the air. With a gentle squeeze of her knees Dani moved Elsie from a walk to a trot, then let her stretch out into a ground-eating canter. As they neared the end of the long crescent bay, small dark dots appeared on the beach. As Dani got closer, the dots took on shape, half a dozen ostriches moving at a dead run, their white feathers neon-bright in the moonlight.
Dani pulled Elsie in a split second before she jibbed, eyes rolling.
A shudder twitched through Elsie and Dani grinned, holding firm. Cattle from Mars.
Horses didn’t like change and ostriches in the moonlight were definitely new.
Dani dropped her voice to a reassuring register. “It’s all right girl. They’re just skinny cows with long necks. We can take ’em.”
If they ran in a herd then they were predictable. With a command, she sent Elsie forward and, brandishing the broom, began working to turn the tiny flock before they split up and scattered past her or moved off the beach and into the manuka scrub. Once they disappeared into the thick low bush they would have a difficult job finding them—let alone getting them out. Wild steers roaming the bush were bad enough—a flock of rogue ostriches didn’t bear thinking about.
The birds faltered and slowed to an uneasy halt. Six pairs of glassy eyes stared at her in the moonlight. Elsie shivered and jibbed again, half rearing. One of the birds’ heads shot up like a periscope. The ostriches appeared to be equally horrified. A series of glottal clicks was drowned out by a high-pitched trill, and with an awkward flurry, the birds turned, flowing back the way they’d come.
Minutes later, Dani trotted around the curve of Jackson’s Bay onto the stretch of beach that fronted the ostrich facility. The flashing lights of the fire engine and two police cruisers were visible in the distance, and this close the smell of smoke was acrid. Ahead, two horsemen—Carter and John McKay—coalesced out of the darkness, blocking the birds from running further along the beach and bypassing the road that led to the facility. The ostriches balked, then started up the road, wheeling when their path was blocked by a line of vehicles, and darting through a gap in the fence where the wire had been cut and rolled back, making a temporary entrance.
Two men rushed forward and closed the gap. Dani recognized Pike and Lynch manning the temporary “Taranaki gate,” which had been constructed from wire and battens. Pike fastened the gate and gestured at Dani’s broom. “What’s that for? Jousting?”
A voice hollered, “Incoming.”
“Necessary equipment.” Carter tossed his broom to Pike.
One of the trucks blocking off the road backed up, leaving a gap. Seconds later a lone ostrich skittered through the opening. Lynch scrambled to peel the temporary gate back, Pike lifted the broom and the ostrich’s head reared back like a striking snake.
“Put your broom down. It doesn’t like it.”
The bird’s head swivelled in the direction of the disembodied voice. With an angry click it bolted into the paddock.
West materialized out of the gloom. His T-shirt was ripped and a series of red welts was visible on one forearm. Zoom trotted happily at his heels.
West tossed the broom down. “Don’t ask.” There was always an individual in the pack. It was just his luck he’d been stuck with it.
Half an hour later, the ostriches all tallied and accounted for, Dani tied Elsie up to a fence post well away from the drifting smoke and the flashing lights of the fire engine. John and Carter were in the process of loading the horses into the horse trailer, Becca had opened up the rear of her SUV and was systematically dispensing coffee and sandwiches to the fire crew.
Dani caught the end of a comment about the ostrich farm as she accepted a mug of coffee from Becca. “I didn’t know you had an ostrich contract.”
Becca shrugged. “It wasn’t something John wanted to talk about.”
“He’s not alone.” Pete Barclay loomed out of the darkness, fire helmet in one hand, face smeared with soot.
Dani tensed as Barclay accepted a mug of coffee. The fire that had burned down his barn had been the first in the string of arsons. She’d forgotten he was a volunteer member of the Fire Service.
Barclay glanced at Dani, his expression sour. “A pity you didn’t make a better job of it. The shop’s gone, but the breeding pens are still intact.”
Shock hit Dani like a fist in the chest. Even though she knew she was under suspicion, so far no one, aside from Murdoch, had confronted her openly.
Becca slapped a container of sandwiches down beside Barclay, her jaw set. “There’s no need for that. Dani would no more—”
“It’s all right, Becca,” Dani interjected. Barclay was known for his strongly held opinions and she could understand his anger. In the country there was zero tolerance for anyone who was careless with fire, let alone an arsonist who had lit up in the middle of a drought that carried its own killing power. Generations of work and care—entire livelihoods—could be destroyed within minutes. Barclay hadn’t lost everything, but enough to hurt.
Walter Douglas and Pike lined up for coffee and sandwiches, voices roughened by smoke as they thanked Becca and found places to lean or sit. Conversation died a natural death as the men ate and drank, but the silence wasn’t companionable. The tension between Barclay and Walter was thick enough to cut, and Dani remembered that Walter’s ex-wife was Barclay’s sister.
A shrill beeping cut the silence. Walter set down his mug and fished out his pager. He checked the number then stabbed in a short dial on his cell phone as he rose to his feet and disappeared in the direction of the fire truck. Seconds later he walked back into the circle of light. “Dani isn’t the arsonist.”
Barclay set his mug down, his face grim. “How can you know that?”
A cold voice cut through the conversation. “Logic and plain common sense.” Carter loomed out of the darkness. “Dani’s a farmer, the same as you, Barclay.”
Barclay’s face reddened.
Walter looked embarrassed. “Besides that, there’s a fire in town. Nola’s place—her house this time. Dani couldn’t have lit that one unless she has the ability to split herself in two.”
Within seconds the fire crew finished loading the hoses and the engine accelerated toward town, leaving the forestry crew to keep a watch on the ostrich facility and dampen down any flare-ups.
Carter’s gaze settled on Dani. “Are you all right?”
“Of course she’s all right.” Becca slapped the lid on the empty sandwich box. “Dani’s used to looking after herself—and everyone else. Why would she want a little support just because Barclay thinks she’s a hardened criminal?”
Carter handed in his empty mug. “Barclay’s an ass. He didn’t like losing his barn, and he’s got Walter’s ex-wife to contend with.”
“Tell me about it.” Becca screwed the lid onto the coffee pump pot. “Lily decided Walter wasn’t good enough for her, and she’s been trying to get rid of him ever since. One date with Walter thirty-five years ago and Nola sticks a chastity belt on herself, and all Walter wants is his wife back.”
Becca dumped the coffeepot in the picnic hamper wedged into the back of her SUV. Plastic containers of milk and sugar followed. “Some people will do anything for love. Guess that’s understandable.” Becca turned her sharp gaze on Carter. “Reminds me of another couple I know, not that marriage is involved, although it should have been.” The boot came down with a thud.
Carter’s head came up with a jerk. Dani’s stomach plummeted. Becca’s analogy was obscure, but somehow he’d managed to put two and two together.
Face burning, Dani wove through the parked vehicles to where Elsie was tethered. Movement caught her eye, the unnerving sensation of being watched. A shadowy male figure was standing, leaning against a truck.
For a split second the present dissolved and she was thrown back in time to the icy floorboards and bare branches of a South Island winter, the breath locked in her throat and her stomach tight with dread as she watched him. She had never found out his name; her mother had always refused to give it to her, saying that giving him even that small dignity made him important, and he wasn’t. He was a cowardly worm who should be locked up.
Elsie stamped. Blinking, Dani shook off the eerie moment. With fingers that weren’t entirely steady, she unhitched the horse and swung into the saddle, the urgency to be gone increasing with every second.
Carter loomed out of the darkness as Elsie negotiated the ditch and scrambled up onto the road. Dani’s jaw set. There was no doubt about it: Carter knew exactly what Becca had been talking about.
He reached for the bridle. “Wait.”
Dani kneed Elsie into a trot, eluding his hold. “Later.”
When she’d had time to panic, and time to shore up her scattered defences.
As Dani directed Elsie onto the beach she couldn’t help reflecting on one salient fact.
Most of the men had stopped to have coffee or a sandwich, with one notable exception. Some time in the last half hour O’Halloran had gone missing.
The beach was quiet, the waves flattened out to a gentle rhythmic wash, the scent of smoke replaced by a cool early-morning tang.
Dani dismounted, prised off her boots, peeled out of her anorak and waded into the water. When she was deep enough, she dove under, letting the salt water wash away the stench of smoke. Refreshed, she waded out, stuffed her boots and anorak in the knapsack and swung back in the saddle. Minutes later, when she reached the home paddock, Elsie nickered, and with a sense of inevitability Dani saw that Carter was waiting.
A shiver coursed down her spine as she dismounted, her shirt clinging to her skin like wet seaweed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
In a moment of clarity she realised that with Carter she had always been on the defensive; a part of her had been afraid to get that close. He had walked out on her three times, and she had let him—his risky career with the SAS an easy out. She had thought he was the one who couldn’t commit, but he wasn’t alone in that. “I didn’t think it would do either of us any good.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not walking away from this.”
And, for the first time, she didn’t expect him to. Ever since he’d come back she’d been aware that the rules had changed, that what they both wanted had changed.
Always before, she had managed to keep her innermost self apart and intact, but the moment she had realised she was in love with him, that subtle line of defence was gone. She wanted him—the emotion naked and raw. To compound her problem, she hadn’t had another relationship with which to compare what she was feeling. Carter was literally her first, last and only.
His expression was grim as he unsaddled Elsie and carried the leathers into the tack room. Dani finished rubbing Elsie down, eased off the halter and watched her amble into her favourite spot in the paddock.
When she turned, Carter was waiting.
Heart pounding, she put her fingers in his. She’d wasted a lot of time and missed a lot of chances through stubbornness and fear; risky or not, she didn’t want to miss any more.
Every cell in her body tensed as they walked through the dark, across the paddock that separated the two houses, and into the open doors of his bedroom. Moonlight delineated the bed with its plain, masculine bedspread, the spare lines of dressers, and the faded pattern of an antique rug.
His shirt dropped to the floor. Pale light showed broad shoulders and the sheen of hard muscle and her breath stopped in her throat. Why had she ever thought she could resist him? Instead of kissing her he stepped behind her and began unravelling her hair from its plait. His fingers ran through the thick strands, gradually untangling her hair until it hung in a damp curtain down her back. “Were you a virgin the first time we made love?”
“What do you think? There never was anyone else.”
His fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her back against his chest and a shaft of heat went through her. She felt his breath on her cheek. “I’m glad Becca said something—now some of it finally makes sense.”
Her shirt dropped to the floor. “What do you mean, some of it?”
His arms wound around her waist, pulling her back against him again, the skin-to-skin contact searingly hot after the chill of wet cotton. “The way you are.”
His teeth grazed her neck and she bit down on her lip. “I always thought you were the complicated one.”
His mouth shifted closer to the lobe of her ear and she tried to concentrate. With a slick move he turned her around in his arms. “There’s never been anything complicated about what I want.”
The unexpected humour dissolved the constriction in her chest. Letting out a breath, Dani laid her head in the curve between his neck and shoulder, wound her arms around his waist and finally allowed herself to relax. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know this—the closeness and the intimacy that had entwined them for years.
The first kiss was unexpectedly soft, the second even sweeter. Something tickled her forehead. A downy piece of feather drifted onto her nose.
She blew, dislodging it. “Ostriches. Lately, I can’t seem to get away from them.”
“Forget the ostriches.”
Carter walked her across the room. The back of her knees hit the bed. She sat down, pulling Carter with her.
“Wait.”
His expression was rueful as he straightened. A drawer slid open. Dani glanced at the bedside table. Beside the box of condoms was a handgun.
She stared at the sleek, metallic shape. Despite being around guns most of her life, the reality was shocking. The weapons she was used to seeing were the ones farmers used for pest control—usually a twenty-two rifle of some description kept locked in a cabinet—not stashed beside the bed. The weapon was an abrupt reminder of what Carter did for a living.
She caught the gleam of his smile. “Sorry. Habit.”
She noticed there was another piece of equipment beyond the gun, but she couldn’t quite make out what that was.
He slipped off his jeans and for the first time she saw the mass of scar tissue on his thigh. If she needed a reminder that she had come close to losing him permanently, that was it.
“Come here.”
Anticipation shivered through her as he unhooked her bra and peeled off her damp jeans. Fully dressed, Carter was impressive—naked he was enough to stop any red-blooded woman’s heart.
His mouth came down on hers and the night began to dissolve. He was being careful, treating her as if she was made of porcelain, but she didn’t want his restraint. Winding her arms around his neck, Dani lifted up on her toes and kissed him back, arching into him. He felt hot and male against her and vitally alive. She had almost lost him, but he was here—now—and, for the moment at least, he was hers.
The moon had set and the sky was lightening in the east as Dani finally drifted into sleep. Carter’s arm came around her in a familiar gesture, tucking her in against him. Sleepily, she adjusted her position until she was comfortable.
They had fallen asleep that way countless times, but in the sleepy aftermath of making love it reminded her of the first time they had ever shared a bed. For Dani the experience had been utterly new, the relief of being held almost unbearable after the grief of losing both Susan and Robert.
After months of absence, Carter had been there when she’d needed him most, taking over the farm and shielding her from the curiosity that had surrounded the double tragedy. He’d helped her through the ordeal of the inquest and the legal tangle of the will. The fact that he’d also provided a shoulder to cry on had broken through her barriers; after years of carefully avoiding intimacy her guard had been down.
Both eyes popped open. In a moment of clarity, she recognized what she’d always refused to see.
Six years ago, Carter had stepped in when she was grieving and at her most vulnerable. After years of successfully avoiding intimacy she’d fallen into his arms like a ripe plum.
Several weeks later, he had had to go back to barracks and the imbalance in the relationship had been established.
Despite the absences and three breakups, she hadn’t dated anyone but Carter since they had first started going out together. Men had looked, but none of them had ever asked her out. She’d noticed the restraint, but it hadn’t bothered her because she simply hadn’t wanted anyone else. She was now certain that Carter had made sure any male within a radius of fifty miles knew she belonged to him, and the campaign wasn’t confined to men. The entire township of Jackson’s Ridge already behaved as if she and Carter were married.
The extent of Carter’s control sent a shiver down her spine. She had thought he had changed since he’d come back, and she’d attributed the changes to the ordeal he’d gone through in Indonesia, but she had been wrong. The ruthless streak was an intrinsic part of Carter; he had been like that all along.
The room was washed with sunlight when the phone rang. Carter picked up, the conversation brief and monosyllabic.
“Murdoch.” He put the phone down, leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “I promised to meet him.”
Dani’s drowsiness evaporated as Carter walked into the bathroom. The drumming of the shower cut out further conversation. When Carter walked out, already half-dressed and looking for a fresh shirt she sat bolt upright, the sheet wrapped around her breasts. “What does he want?”
“To talk about the arsonist.”
“Then I should be there.”
Carter shrugged into a shirt. “He just wants to go through some profiling information.”
“Then he must have a suspect.”
He paused in the act of fastening his shirt. “He’s keeping an eye on someone, but all he has is speculation—nothing solid.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean he’s trying to keep me out of it.”
He bent and kissed her on the mouth. “The hell with Murdoch. I want to keep you out of it. Besides, John mentioned last night that you’ve got a brunch date.”
Dani blinked, feeling abruptly disoriented. It was Sunday. With everything that had happened—disaster piling on top of disaster—it felt like a month had passed since she had promised to go to Becca’s brunch, not just a few days.