“You’ll be gone again soon,” Mike said About the Author Title Page Acknowledgments CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN Copyright

“You’ll be gone again soon,” Mike said

Erin’s eyes flashed. “Define soon.”

“Look, I have no idea how long you’re staying, but I assume the farm will be sold and you’ll be off again....”

“Taking my pound of flesh with me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you inferred,” Erin said coolly. “That I’m here for my share of my grandfather’s farm. And I don’t like the inference.”

“But you are here for a holiday?” Mike demanded, his eyes meeting hers. Challenging.

Much of Trisha David’s childhood was spent dreaming of romance far from the Australian farming community where she lived. After marrying a fabulous doctor, she decided doctors were so sexy she could write a medical romance and has since written a considerable number under the name Marion Lennox. Now her vision of romance has broadened to include romances for the Harlequin Romance® series, and she plans to continue writing as Marion Lennox and Trisha David.

McTavish and Twins
Trisha David

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With thanks to Art and Kerry Uytendaal, whose

knowledge and love of horses and riding at international

levels of competition made this book possible. This book

is dedicated to Matt and Laura, who, with Bethany,

Christopher and Bryce, are now climbing my haystacks.

CHAPTER ONE

AUSTRALIA had the farm, Grandpa and Mike McTavish—but America was definitely safer! On the final stretch home, Erin swerved to miss two kangaroos, one snake and one fat wombat. Her final obstacle was trouble.

The twins were in the centre of the road on a blind bend. They were tiny, the suitcase between them shoulder-high, and their faces grim as death.

The children didn’t flinch as Erin hit the brakes. They didn’t seem to notice how close they’d come to tragedy. Instead, they tugged their suitcase sideways round her truck and trailer—and kept right on walking.

Neither child looked at Erin as she climbed from the truck. In fact both were concentrating fiercely on not looking at her.

‘Hi,’ Erin tried.

No response.

Erin looked dubiously down at her grubby jeans and filthy riding boots. These children were immaculately clothed in matching boy-girl outfits. They wore cute little sailor tops, with the boy in white trousers and the girl in a white skirt.

Erin looked and smelled of horse. She had to admit she seemed a great example of ‘dangerous strangers’. Convincing these children to trust her was going to be hard.

‘Do you two realize I nearly squashed you?’ Erin demanded, raising her voice.

Still nothing. The children tugged their suitcase grimly on.

This wasn’t normal kids’ adventure, Erin decided, looking at their slumped shoulders and general dejection. These children had real misery driving them.

She couldn’t leave them here. They looked about six years old—certainly not old enough to be on their own. The road twisted through the hills and the next driver might not be handicapped by an ancient truck and a horse trailer. The children would have no chance against a fast car.

So Erin moved to block their path. She walked purposefully in front of them, lifted their suitcase from their grasp and hauled it over to the grass verge. Then she squatted so her eyes were on their level.

‘Excuse me, but you two nearly caused an accident,’ she growled softly, watching their faces for reaction. ‘I had to stop so fast I might have injured my horse. You can’t ignore me. It’s your responsibility to at least see what damage you’ve done.’

Boy and girl looked at each other.

Fear receded a little. This wasn’t a stranger accosting them. This was someone reminding them of their duty.

‘I... We’re sorry,’ the little girl quavered. ‘We didn’t mean to...’

‘That’s all very well,’ Erin said firmly. ‘But we need to check my horse. Stay off the road while I do it.’ She turned her back on the children and concentrated on opening the trailer.

Erin was almost sure Paddy was okay. Her old horse was sure-footed and calm—a veteran of years of international travel—and he’d coped with greater jolts to his trailer than this.

As Erin opened the trailer her horse swivelled to look at her with huge, reproachful eyes. His eyes almost spoke. ‘Now what?’ he seemed to be saying, and it was as much as Erin could do not to laugh.

‘Oh, Paddy, I’m sorry.’ She walked forward to stroke his nose. Another glance at the two watching children—another fast moment of thought—and then Erin shoved the ramp down and backed Paddy out onto the roadside.

Paddy clattered obediently out like the gentleman he was. He stood in the sun, gazed appreciatively at the surrounding countryside and then put his nose down to the grass and started to graze.

‘He looks okay,’ the little girl said doubtfully. The fear in the children’s eyes had faded further, but their hands still clutched.

It was a start.

‘Paddy’s had a bad jolt,’ Erin said firmly. ‘He needs a few moments to recover.’ She ran her hand affectionately over Paddy’s gleaming black flank, and then along the blaze of white leading down from his wise old eyes. ‘I’d like you to meet Paddy,’ she said softly. ‘He’s my very favourite horse of all time and I’d hate anything to happen to him. And I’m Erin O’Connell. My grandpa owns a farm half a mile along this road and I’m on my way to visit him.’ She smiled. ‘You must live near here too.’

She paused—and waited.

‘We...we don’t,’ the little girl said at last. ‘But...but our uncle does.’

‘Does he?’ Erin smiled. She raised her eyebrows at the children. ‘I might know him. Paddy and I have told you our names. Aren’t you going to tell us yours?’

The little girl took a deep breath. She was clearly the spokesman for the two. Her brother stared numbly at Erin and his thumb moved slowly, surreptitiously towards his mouth.

‘I’m Laura McTavish,’ the little girl said at last. ‘And this is my brother, Matthew.’ She paused and then childish curiosity surfaced. ‘The way you talk sounds funny...’

Laura and Matthew McTavish...

McTavish.

Erin’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. Good grief! Was this some crazy coincidence?

Erin had come halfway across the world to see her grandfather, swearing all the way that she didn’t have to see Mike McTavish. Australia was a big place and she hadn’t seen Mike McTavish for ten years—not since her last visit to Australia when she had been fourteen. She didn’t have to ask about him or have any interest in him in any way, shape or form, she’d decided. For heaven’s sake, Mike McTavish was probably married with six kids by now.

Maybe these were two of the brood!

Mike would be about thirty by now, Erin thought He was certainly old enough to be a father. He’d been twenty when she’d seen him last, when fourteen-year-old Erin had suffered her first and only case of puppy love.

Unfortunately the puppy love had never quite faded.

Which was ridiculous, she told herself savagely. Her teenage crush had been totally one-sided. Erin doubted Mike McTavish even knew she existed, then or now.

Well... Erin shook away bitter-sweet memories with a fierce shrug. Erin’s teenage crush on Mike McTavish was history. She forced all her attention back on the twins.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Matthew and Laura McTavish,’ she said slowly, looking from one child to the other, and trying not to search for a resemblance to a ten-year-old memory. ‘And I don’t have a funny accent, thank you very much. I’ve come all the way from the United States of America to visit my grandpa, and every person I’ve met in this country talks funny. It’s not me. It’s you.’

Erin held out her hand to be shaken. The twins were looking at Erin as if she were something newly arrived from another planet. An American, their look said. Good grief!

Laura was game, though. After only a moment’s hesitation the little girl solemnly took Erin’s hand and shook.

Not so her brother. One of Matthew’s hands gripped his sister so hard it must have hurt, and the other hand was attached to a thumb being sucked like grim death. Erin smiled down at him and let her hand fall. She mustn’t push too hard.

‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ Erin asked. She looked doubtfully down at their suitcase. ‘It seems a very heavy load. Where are you headed?’

‘No, thank you.’ Laura bit her lip. ‘We’re going to Sydney.’

‘I... I see...’ Erin swallowed. She frowned. ‘Laura, are you and Matthew planning to walk all the way to Sydney?’

‘Yes.’ Laura’s voice struggled to sound defiant, but it wobbled dangerously.

‘But, sweetheart, it will take you a month or more to walk that far.’

Something suspiciously like a sob broke from the little boy at Laura’s side, and the little girl gulped. Her face lost its colour.

‘We can do it,’ she whispered. ‘We...we have to. We’re going home.’

‘To your mom and dad?’

It was a guess, and the guess hurt. Erin had assumed the children must be holidaying here, but Laura tilted her chin and her face grew even more pale.

‘Our mum and dad are dead. They were killed in a car accident.’ There was no disguising the wobble in Laura’s voice now. ‘We’re supposed to be living with Uncle Mike, but...but we don’t like it and we’re going home.’

Uncle Mike. Not these children’s father then. Their uncle.

‘To Sydney?’ Erin murmured.

‘Yes.’

‘But... Are there different people living in your house in Sydney?’ Erin queried softly, and watched the pain grow worse on both their faces.

‘Yes,’ Laura quavered. ‘Uncle Mike says so. He says he’s really sorry but our house had to be sold to someone we don’t know and we can’t go back there.’ A defiant shake of her head. ‘But it’s our house. It’s my bedroom. Matthew’s got his own room too, and Daddy painted a yellow strip for him all the way round the ceiling just ’cos he liked it. If we go there...I mean, if we’re good...they’ll have to let us stay, won’t they?’

‘Honey, I don’t think they will,’ Erin said gently. ‘Laura, no matter how much they might want you to stay, the new adults in your Sydney house will send you straight back to your uncle Mike. They don’t have a choice, Laura. It’s the law.’

‘No.’

There was no point in dissembling. ‘Yes,’ Erin told her. She produced a tissue and gently dried two large tears welling from Laura’s fearful eyes. ‘Laura, is your Uncle Mike really so bad you can’t stay with him?’

Erin thought back to memories of Mike McTavish from ten years ago. The man was impossibly handsome—reason enough for a fourteen-year-old to fall in love—but he was also kind and gentle and laughing. At twenty he’d treated life as a joke, but when Erin’s grandfather had persuaded her to attend a local party Mike McTavish had seen a strange kid’s loneliness and had come across and asked her to dance.

With the older and prettier local girls so eager for his attention, that dance had been an act of pure kindness. The resultant misery it had caused by tumbling Erin head over heel in love with him was not Mike’s fault.

So... Could Mike McTavish have changed so much? Erin wondered. The Mike McTavish Erin remembered would not—could not—treat these children with cruelty.

‘He is bad!’ Laura said fiercely, seeing Erin’s look of doubt. ‘He is. He beats us and he doesn’t feed us except on chook food and he makes us work and work...’

‘I see.’ This was going from unlikely to impossible. The corners of Erin’s mouth twitched. ‘Laura...’

‘Y...yes?’

‘Does your uncle Mike really beat you?’

Laura tried to glare but it didn’t quite come off. Finally the little girl bit her lip and looked away.

Then, for the first time, Matthew spoke.

‘Something worse,’ the little boy whispered, hauling his thumb from his mouth. He stared at Erin as if he really needed her to understand.

‘What?’ The urge to gather this white-faced child in her arms and hold him close was almost overpowering but Erin fought it back.

‘Aunt Caroline cut Laura’s hair last night,’ Matthew managed, in a choked voice that was more agonized than Laura’s wildly accusing tone. ‘And Uncle Mike let her.’

Silence.

Erin looked at Laura’s beautifully cut bob. The little girl had fine blonde hair, gently waving. It was neat and clean and really short.

‘Your uncle cut Laura’s hair?’

‘Aunt Caroline did,’ Matthew whispered. The little boy looked at his sister’s closely cropped curls with an expression of horror. ‘Laura’s hair was so long Daddy used to call it her mane. Mummy sat on Laura’s bed every night and told us stories while she brushed Laura’s hair. She said, “Always wear your hair long, Laura, because it’s your crowning glory”. And Aunt Caroline cut it and Uncle Mike says, “What’s done’s done.” Now Aunt Caroline says it has to stay short all the time because it’s ridiculous to keep it long. So...so we have to go... We have to go away.’

Erin flinched.

There was so much pain in the little boy’s voice that Erin wanted to weep. A dull red rage was building inside her as she fought to find some way to respond. Of all the stupid, insensitive acts. Mike McTavish and the unknown, horrible Aunt Caroline had a lot to answer for. And Erin was darned if she’d defend adults who’d do such a thing.

She took a deep breath, searching for the right words. ‘Your aunt and uncle were wrong to cut your hair, Laura, when it meant so much to you,’ she managed. To her horror, Erin found she was choking back tears. ‘But—but I don’t think the answer is to run away.’

‘It is!’ Matthew whispered. Laura seemed too drained to speak, and it was Matthew who was now spokesman.

‘No.’ Finally unable to help herself, Erin reached forward to hug them both. ‘And I think you know it. Your uncle is the person who looks after you now, and you need to accept that. You don’t have a choice, kids. You must go home and face him—and tell him how you feel about Laura’s hair.’

‘We can’t.’ Both children stared at her, appalled.

‘Well, how about if I take you?’ Erin suggested softly. ‘What if Paddy and I take you home and stay with you while you talk to your uncle? What if we help make him understand?’

‘But she’ll be there,’ Laura whispered, her voice laced with revulsion. ‘Aunt Caroline.’

‘Paddy and I can cope with Aunt Caroline,’ Erin promised. ‘You see if I’m right.’ She looked across at her old horse and smiled. ‘We’ve had a lot of experience with crabby aunts. Paddy had one once who could make him turn to jelly in his horseshoes, but together we fixed her right up.’

Laura and Matthew looked at Paddy and the first trace of smiles dimpled out from the pair. ‘Really? Paddy’s aunt... What...what did you do?’

‘We sprinkled Aunt Nobby’s hay with a whole container of pepper,’ Erin smiled. ‘As far as we know Aunt Nobby’s still sneezing.’

Matthew’s pale little face creased into the beginnings of laughter.

‘Could we do that to Aunt Caroline?’ Laura asked breathlessly.

Erin pretended to consider—and then solemnly shook her head.

‘I don’t think so. I don’t know how you’ll make your Aunt Caroline eat hay.’

A chuckle. Then Laura gripped Erin’s hand and looked down at her feet, as if figuring out a confession.

‘Aunt Caroline’s not really our aunt yet,’ the child confided. ‘But she says to call her that because she will be after she marries Mike.’

No six children. Not even a wife—yet!

‘Well, there you go.’ Erin smiled, shoving away such a treacherous thought. Such a useless thought! ‘Caroline’s not even a dinky-di aunt, and maybe if she gets to be one you could put pepper in her wedding cake. That’d fix her.’

Heaven help her if the twins really did pepper a wedding cake, Erin thought ruefully, but it was more important now to put a smile on the two small faces than to consider consequences. ‘But believe me,’ she added, ‘Paddy and I can cope with an “almost aunt” with our hands and hooves tied behind our backs. Now...’ She smiled down at both of them. ‘If I promise to stay with you until no one’s angry, and if I also promise to ride Paddy over and see you tomorrow, will you let me take you home?’

Matthew looked at Laura and Laura looked at Matthew. The bleakness falling back into their eyes made Erin’s heart melt, but some unspoken message passed between the twins and they nodded as one.

‘Okay, Erin,’ Laura sighed in a voice much too old for her years. ‘Matthew and I would be grateful if you’d take us h—’ She caught herself. ‘We’d be grateful if you could take us back to Mike’s and Aunt Caroline.’

CHAPTER TWO

MIKE McTAVISH...

How many times had Erin said that name aloud to herself when she was fourteen? For weeks she’d been in a daze of teenage ecstasy, thinking and dreaming of nothing but Mike McTavish. She remembered saying his name as a mantra to put herself to sleep and practising her signature as Erin McTavish, Erin McTavish, Erin McTavish—but now every time Mike’s name ran through her mind she was conscious of nothing but anger.

The children sat beside her in the truck as Erin drove the short distance to the McTavish farm, their eyes staring straight ahead and their expression stoic.

It would be easier to cope with tears, Erin thought grimly. This bleak resignation was breaking her heart.

What sort of hard-hearted toad had Mike McTavish become? He and his precious Caroline.

The McTavish farm was just past Erin’s grandpa’s. ‘We’re neighbours,’ Erin smiled. ‘That means I’ll be able to see you heaps. I’m staying here for ages.’

‘Why?’ Laura asked, her tone implying that Erin was mad to even think of living here.

‘Because my grandpa’s old and he needs me,’ Erin said softly. ‘And I love my grandpa.’

‘Not like us,’ Laura said bleakly and turned away. ‘We don’t love anybody. Except...except each other.’

‘You don’t think you could love your uncle Mike?’

‘We might,’ Laura said bitterly. ‘But he says he can’t look after us on his own—so he’s marrying Aunt Caroline.’

End of conversation. Nothing else was said until they turned into the McTavishes’ gate.

Erin hadn’t visited the McTavish house before, but she’d seen the house from the road and little had changed in ten years. The McTavishes were ‘old money’—part of what the Australian establishment called the ‘Squatocracy’. The McTavish forebears had been squatters generations ago, wealthy Britons taking up huge tracts of rich farming land and handing their wealth on to their children and their children’s children.

The children’s children hadn’t squandered their wealth. The McTavish homestead was long and low and gracious, set in beautiful gardens with mature oaks giving blessed shade from the summer sun. It was the biggest house in the district. It was the biggest farm.

And it seemed Laura and Matthew had been missed.

As Erin’s truck and trailer pulled into the yard the front door of the house burst open and a woman came striding quickly down the verandah steps towards them.

It didn’t take the children’s automatic bracing beside her to know this was the feared Aunt Caroline. The woman was older than Erin’s twenty-four years—closer, in fact, to Mike’s thirty—and somehow Caroline was just how Erin had imagined her.

Erin knew women like this. What Caroline wore was almost a uniform in upper crust rural circles—a uniform the same almost everywhere in the world.

Everything about this woman was oh-so-carefully casual. She wore designer jeans and her silk shirt fell softly open at the throat to reveal a single strand of pearls. A silk scarf casually tied back her immaculately sculpted, shoulder-length hair and her oh-so-chic sunglasses were pushed up from her beautifully made-up face.

And her face, underneath the expensive cosmetics, was cold and angry.

The woman ignored Erin. She cast one disdainful look at Erin’s truck as she strode towards it, saw the children and reached up to haul the passenger door open. Matthew and Laura instinctively cringed against Erin.

‘Oh, you naughty children.’ The woman’s voice was carefully modulated but it was razor-sharp for all that. ‘Where on earth have you been? Your uncle’s wasted half the morning out scouring the country and we were just about to call the police.’ She fixed them with a look of dislike. ‘How dare you cause us such trouble? Your uncle will be so angry!’

‘Hi,’ Erin said loudly across the children’s heads.

‘You must be Aunt Caroline. I’m Erin O’Connell.’

The woman cast Erin a look that put Erin firmly in her place—obviously way down in the animal kingdom wedged somewhere between a bedbug and a maw-worm.

‘Thank you for bringing the children home,’ she said briefly. She glanced at Erin again, taking in the state of Erin’s clothes, and her delicate nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘I suppose you want something for your trouble.’

Ugh! A tip to the lowlife...

‘You’re dead right I do,’ Erin snapped. ‘I want to see the children’s uncle.’

‘If you wish to see someone then you can see me,’ Caroline snapped back. ‘I’m their aunt.’

‘Not yet, you’re not.’ Erin smiled her sweetest smile. Once upon a time women like this had been able to make Erin quail, but not any more. ‘Until you marry their uncle I assume you’re not the children’s legal guardian, and that’s who I need to speak to.’

The woman stared.

This was aristocratic reaction to the news that the peasants were revolting, Erin thought with grim amusement, and looked down with a rueful smile at her soiled jeans and T-shirt. In fact, Erin had to admit that this peasant was extremely revolting! Smelly to go with it.

It couldn’t be helped. Erin waited calmly to see what the woman would say.

She never found out. There was a sudden sound of frantic barking, two collie dogs flew out from behind the machinery shed to investigate the strange truck on their property—and behind them strode Mike McTavish.

Mike stopped dead when he saw the truck, and as the farmer saw Laura and Matthew in the cab Erin saw his face slacken with relief.

As Erin’s face froze...

Mike McTavish...

Erin stared, and somewhere around her heart she felt a sickening jolt. It seemed that the ghost of fourteen-year-old Erin still had the power to hurt. Mike McTavish was just the same as Erin remembered—only more so!

The farmer had the build of someone who pumped weights, but this man hadn’t built his muscles in a sweaty gymnasium. He’d built his muscles from heaving hay-bales and working constantly on the land. The McTavishes had money, Erin knew, but this man obviously didn’t sit back and expect the hired help to do his hard work for him.

He was older, of course—ten years more mature than the Mike McTavish she remembered. His face had become weathered from a life spent outdoors, and the hardworking image was deepened by the rough moleskins, open-necked khaki shirt and heavy work boots he wore.

Erin blinked and blinked again as her heart gave the same lurch she remembered. She still remembered the sensation when a youthful version of this man had walked across the dance floor—all those years ago.

Mike was still blatantly good-looking. His deep brown unkempt hair showed traces of bleaching from the harsh Australian sun and his farmer’s eyes were creased from the same bright glare—but he was still the same Mike McTavish...

For heaven’s sake, get a hold on yourself, Erin told herself harshly. Somehow she forced herself to move, jumping down from the truck and moving swiftly round so she was between children and both uncle and aunt.

‘Mr McTavish,’ she said softly, ignoring the horrible Caroline completely and holding out her hand.

Mike stopped five feet from Erin. He stared, his dark eyes taking in Erin from the tip of her stable-mired boots to her roughly tied back mass of chestnut curls.

‘I don’t think I know you,’ he said slowly.

I’m not sure I want to, his gaze seemed to imply, and Erin flushed. He showed not the least sign of recognition, and that in itself hurt. She could cope with Caroline’s nasty tongue more easily than this man’s frank uninterest.

She caught herself, fighting down a mounting blush. Mike McTavish’s gaze had moved past her to the children in the truck. Ignoring Erin’s extended hand, he took a step forward. But Erin would have none of it. Her body blocked his path.

‘Mr McTavish, I’m Erin O’Connell...’

Mike’s attention was no longer on Erin at all. It was all on the children.

‘Laura...Matt...are you okay? You’re not hurt?’ His voice was hoarse with worry.

And in that moment Erin forgave Mike McTavish for not recognizing her. There was sheer, raw anxiety in the farmer’s desperate question, and she realized he’d ignored her solely from concern for the twins.

Neither child answered. Mike was looking straight past Erin, practically pressing against her, and it took all Erin’s resolve to continue blocking his path.

‘They’re fine,’ Erin told Mike quickly, glancing back at the children’s white little faces. Her body was hard against the open passenger door and Mike McTavish was so darned close... ‘They’re just tired, stressed and—and very, very unhappy.’

Mike’s gaze carefully studied both children, searching their faces himself for assurance that what Erin had said was true.

Finally he looked back down to Erin, his extra height making her feel tiny.

‘Who did you say you were?’ he demanded, finally reassured she was telling the truth. He took a step back—but he was still too close. ‘You sound... American.’

‘Half-American, half-Australian.’ Erin smiled. ‘I’m Erin O’Connell. My grandpa owns the farm next door.’

‘O’Connell...’ Mike’s brow cleared, relief deepening. This was a relative of a neighbour, bringing his children home. Not so bad after all. He looked at her more closely. ‘Did they...? Were they on your place?’

‘They were two miles down the road,’ Erin told him, her smile fading. ‘Walking dead centre of the road on a blind curve. I nearly hit them.’

Mike flinched. The farmer closed his eyes, as if in pain. Beside him, the woman called Caroline had grown silent, her eyes cool and watchful.

Finally Mike McTavish opened his eyes and looked down at Erin again.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, and the gentleness Erin remembered so well was there in force. He smiled, a weary smile that still had the power to light his eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he repeated, and his eyes smiled directly into hers with all the warmth Erin had carried in her heart for so long. ‘For driving carefully and for bringing them home safely.’ He shook his head, wondering. ‘I drove down the lanes round here looking for them, but I couldn’t believe they’d gone so far. I decided they must be trying to cut across paddocks, so I’ve had the farm bike out searching cross-country.’

‘They were very determined,’ Erin said. ‘They tell me they were making for Sydney.’

Once again there was a look of raw pain flashing across Mike’s face.

‘Of course.’ His eyes still held hers but any trace of a smile was completely gone. ‘Sydney was their home before—before my brother and his wife were killed. But they can’t go back.’

‘The twins explained that to me.’ Erin was acutely conscious of the children behind her, listening to every word. She’d promised the children she’d speak up for them and they were waiting for her to carry out her promise.

So do it, she told herself firmly, searching for the right words. Just do it!

‘I believe both the children understand their home’s been sold,’ she continued finally, her soft voice tremulous in the farmyard stillness. ‘But they were desperate.’

‘Desperate?’ Mike’s face was confused.

‘The children ran away because you cut Laura’s hair,’ Erin managed. For some reason it was difficult to get each word out—it was so desperately important to make Mike see the children’s hurt. ‘Their parents loved Laura’s hair and told her she should leave it long. Last night you cut it. Both Laura and Matthew felt it more than if you’d beaten them. I believe—I believe you were wrong to cut it. I think you owe Laura an apology, and if she wants to grow her hair long again she should have your full support.’

Caroline’s breath hissed in.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ the woman whispered, casting an uncertain glance at Mike. ‘What gives you the right...?’

‘What gives you the right?’ Erin demanded, her eyes flashing fire. If she couldn’t hug these children as she wanted, at least she could fight their battles for them. ‘Laura didn’t want her hair cut. Would it have hurt so much to leave it long?’

‘Michael has enough to do in the mornings without combing the b...the child’s hair.’

‘Were you going to say brat?’ Erin asked slowly.

‘No.’ It was Mike again, his voice heavy. He placed a hand on Caroline’s silk-clad shoulder, stilling her with the gesture. ‘Of course she wasn’t.’ He sighed. ‘How do you know all this?’ he asked Erin, and the pain was still in his voice.

‘The twins told me,’ Erin said gently. ‘They told me when I asked. I think—I think they’re desperate to have an adult on—on their side.’

It was a direct hit and it went home hard. Mike winced.

‘Caroline meant this for the best,’ he said slowly, his eyes flicking into the truck to the twins. ‘Laura’s hair has been tangled and I don’t cope with it very well. I can’t make it look like her mother did.’

‘Does that matter so much?’

‘I guess...’ Mike stared helplessly down at her, a man right out of his depth.

Erin gave a rueful smile. This situation needed cheering up—fast. It was altogether too grim for words.

Okay. So think fast, Erin, she told herself.

And her smile deepened as she figured what to do.

She did a half-pirouette so that she had her back to the big farmer and she was facing the twins. She gave them both a reassuring wink. ‘My hair took ten seconds to brush this morning,’ she confessed, still with her back and her wayward pony tail to Mike. ‘It’s tied back with a bit of hay band. Is it so bad?’

She smiled at the twins again, pirouetted back to face Mike McTavish and tilted her chin, defying him with her eyes.

The farmer’s grim expression faded. Mike McTavish’s lips twitched. His eyes took in Erin’s disreputable hair, her dancing eyes, and then slowly took in the rest of her.

It was as if he was seeing Erin for the first time—and his eyes told her he very much liked what he saw.

‘I guess...I guess it doesn’t look too bad,’ he said slowly, and his eyes reflected her laughter.

‘Laura could do her hair this way all by herself,’ Erin said firmly. She pirouetted again to face the children and twinkled. ‘Couldn’t you, Laura? Matt could tie it for you. I bet you could even persuade Aunt Caroline to buy you some ribbon instead of hay band. If you grow your hair long again, Laura, would you mind if it’s as messy as mine?’

Both children gazed at Erin, considering. Erin’s hair was certainly not beautifully groomed. It was a mass of chestnut curls, escaping from her hay band in errant wisps all over her face.

‘I like it,’ Matthew said finally, removing his thumb and casting a scared, defiant look at Caroline.

‘It’s got straw in it.’ Laura managed a smile. ‘And...and I think there’s a bit of dry horse dung stuck at the back. But it still looks pretty.’

‘There.’ Erin’s eyes danced with laughter. She faced Mike again. ‘Even with horse dung, your problem’s solved.’

‘But Michael doesn’t want the children looking like tramps,’ Caroline snapped, fury getting the better of her.

Erin’s laughter faded—and slowly she turned to face Caroline’s hostility head-on. ‘Is that what I look like?’

‘Since you. ask, yes. You look like you haven’t washed for weeks.’

‘Caroline...’ Mike’s grip on Caroline’s shoulder tightened, and his face closed as if he’d like to haul back the words his fiancée had spoken.

They were impossible to haul back.

There was a moment’s dreadful silence. Mike and the twins all looked as though they expected Erin to explode—and then Erin’s lips twitched again as her sense of the ridiculous sprang to her rescue.

‘I’ve met a few tramps who’d take personal affront at the comparison with messy me.’ She smiled, allaying Mike’s dismay with her chuckle. Her eyes danced up at his. ‘I doubt if horse dung’s everyone’s ideal hair decor. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve spent most of this morning mucking out stables.’

She faced Caroline again and managed to maintain her smile in spite of the woman’s transparent disdain. ‘I’d love to wear silk scarves and pearls to work,’ she smiled. ‘But I just bet my horse would try to eat them. You must have a more appreciative audience than I have.’

Caroline’s jaw dropped about a foot.

The woman sure didn’t have a sense of humour. The look Caroline was directing at Erin said plainly that she thought Erin was mocking her. She thought the lowlife was thumbing its nose at its social betters!

Well, maybe she shouldn’t have commented on Caroline’s appearance, Erin thought ruefully. It just sort of slipped out before she could stop it.

So behave yourself, Erin, she told herself firmly. Be careful.

Then she hesitated. Erin blocked out Caroline’s transparent fury as she considered how to make her point to Mike. This was important.

She tilted her chin yet again and met his look with defiance, a half-smile returning to her lips. It was a smile of entreaty.

‘If I’d stopped to shower and change clothes, I would have been late for my grandpa and made him worried—as I’m worrying him now,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t do that. But the kids are important. These two are worth worrying Grandpa for. It’s all...it’s all a matter of priority. How important is it to you that Laura is immaculate?’

‘It’s not,’ Mike said softly.

And then, before Erin knew what he was about, she was lifted by the waist by Mike’s strong hands and moved bodily aside. Mike leaned into the cab and gathered the two frightened children into his arms. His broad shoulders accommodated them both with ease as he lifted them clear.

‘You heard what Erin said, kids,’ he told them gently. ‘Erin’s grandpa is worried because she’s late, so we’ll let her go.’ He turned to Erin again, the children held tight in his arms. ‘Thank you again for bringing them home, but we’ll take care of them now,’ he said softly. ‘Believe me.’

Erin met his look. She took a deep breath. ‘I promised—I promised I wouldn’t leave here unless I knew no one would be angry with the children.’

‘No one’s angry,’ Mike said gently, holding them close. ‘Are we, Caroline?’

Caroline sure was. She’d clearly enjoy horsewhipping the American lowlife at the very least, but the look on Mike McTavish’s face checked her. With a discernible effort the woman forced herself to speak.

‘Of course not. I mean—not at the children.’ She cast Erin a look of glittering dislike.

‘Laura will be permitted to grow her hair?’ Erin demanded. If ever she was going to achieve something for the twins, now was the time.

‘Of course she can,’ Mike said heavily. He cast an unsure glance at Caroline. ‘Caroline...I mean, we thought we were acting for the best, but maybe...maybe we should have talked it over first.’

There was no mistaking the reproof behind the words, and Caroline didn’t like it one bit.

‘That’s just fine.’ Erin smiled before Caroline could answer. She walked round to the driver’s door of her truck and hesitated. ‘I also promised the twins I’d ride over and see them tomorrow. Is that okay?’

‘There’s no need...’ Caroline was almost speechless.

‘There is a need,’ Erin said firmly. ‘I promised.’

‘Of course you can come.’ Mike was almost totally occupied with his armload of children but he flashed her a smile that held. It was exactly the same smile that had knocked Erin’s socks off all those years ago. ‘You’ll be very welcome.’

Erin flashed a look at Caroline’s livid face.

‘I’ll just bet I won’t be.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘But I’ll come just the same.’

CHAPTER THREE

ERIN’S grandpa was just where she’d left him ten years ago.

She turned into the driveway of O’Connell’s farm and looked up to see Jack O’Connell lazily rocking back and forth in his favourite chair on the verandah.

It was like coming home.

Erin beeped the horn as a deep contentment welled up inside her. The events of the past hour faded. She was going to miss her parents so much it hurt—miss home and miss the life she’d built herself—but the decision to come here was the right one. The only one. She had been talking of it for so long—and finally she was here.

Why was this place so special?

The O’Connell place didn’t hold a candle to the McTavishes’. The farm itself was maybe a tenth of the size of the neighbouring landholding, and the small weatherboard cottage looked ramshackle in comparison.

Where the McTavishes had manicured gardens and English oaks and elms, here the paddocks ran right up to the verandah. Fat cattle wandered up to the windows or lazed in the shade of the gum trees round the house. Compared to the McTavishes it was definitely a poor relation—though not quite an abode fit for tramps!

This tramp was content, Erin thought happily. Her grandpa’s farm looked a million dollars to Erin. Home is where the heart is, and Erin’s heart had been split in two since her visit here ten years ago. Half was in America and half was here—but, by coming here, maybe the two halves could be brought closer together.

On the verandah the old man had stopped his rocking, his gnarled, weather-beaten face crinkling into a broad beam of welcome. Jack O’Connell came slowly down the verandah steps, but he hadn’t reached the bottom before Erin was flying up to meet him.

‘Grandpa...’

‘Erin... Erin, love... Well, well...’ Jack O’Connell hugged his granddaughter hard and then held her at arm’s length. ‘Let me look at you.’

‘Let me look at you!’ Erin was laughing and weeping in his arms. ‘Oh, Grandpa...’

He was the same Grandpa. Jack O’Connell was older and infinitely more worn—heavens, he was near eighty now, Erin thought with dismay—but there was life and vigour in the old face yet.

‘Eh, you’re the spitting image of your mother,’ Jack said softly. ‘It’s good to have you here, Erin lass.’

‘It’s good to be here.’ Erin tucked her arm through her grandpa’s and led him back up to the verandah. ‘Now all that’s left for us to do is to catch up on ten years’ gossip.’ She grinned. ‘But we have all the time in the world to do it.’

‘All the time in the world...?’

‘I’m here to stay, Grandpa,’ Erin said firmly. ‘So you’d better get used to me.’

‘Tell me about Mike McTavish,’ Erin ventured over her third cup of tea and Jack’s first beer.

The shadows were lengthening from the towering gum trees, and soon it would be time for dinner, but neither Erin nor Jack felt like moving. There was a deep satisfaction in them both, and as they talked Erin saw the lines of strain she’d noticed in her grandfather’s face slowly start to fade. Already he seemed somehow younger.

It must have been so hard for this man to watch his only son migrate to America, she thought. Erin’s dad had had his own hard reasons for moving his family to the United States and Jack knew and approved—but Jack had been left alone too long. Erin’s decision to return was the right decision.

‘What do you want to know about Mike McTavish?’ Jack asked cautiously. He cast a slightly anxious look at Erin. ‘The lad’s engaged to be married, Erin.’

Erin winced as she saw his anxious look. So Jack O’Connell had noticed his granddaughter’s childish crush ten years ago! Oh, dear! If grandpa had noticed, it must have been obvious to everyone.

The only consolation was that it hadn’t been memorable to Mike McTavish. Mike McTavish seemed not even to remember her. Which was just as well...

‘Grandpa, I’m a grown lady now.’ Erin smiled, even though the smile cost her an effort. ‘You can put what I was like when I was fourteen right out of your mind.’

Jack grinned affectionately across at his granddaughter. ‘Well, you sure were stuck on Mike McTavish.’ He hesitated. ‘It did cross my mind...when I had your letter saying you were coming...’ He shook his head. ‘Your parents look like staying in Pittsburgh for a lifetime now. Your mother tells me your dad will never be fit enough to travel. So...what made you come back?’

‘It wasn’t because of Mike McTavish,’ Erin said soundly. She hesitated. ‘Or maybe...’ She met her grandfather’s look, fair and square. ‘Maybe it was, in a way. Because when Mom and Dad sent me out to visit you ten years ago, I had that awful crush.’ She smiled self-consciously. ‘And, I’ll admit, for a while there I dreamed of marrying the man. Fourteen-year-olds are like that. But it started me thinking what it would be like to live here for ever. And somehow...somehow it wouldn’t go away. The feeling that here was home.’

‘Your parents moved away when you were five,’ Jack growled. ‘This is hardly home.’

‘It is,’ Erin insisted. ‘It’s Pittsburgh that’s never seemed home to me.’ She bit her lip. ‘Grandpa, I don’t like the city. You know I’ve spent every minute I can on farms. I did an agricultural course in the States—’

‘In between riding horses.’

‘In between horses,’ she agreed. ‘But I always knew this was where I wanted to be. It’s my dad’s home. And all of us have hated you being here by yourself.’

‘Your parents approved of your coming?’

‘Even Mom.’ Erin smiled. ‘She’s married to an Aussie and she’s resigning herself to having an Aussie daughter.’

‘But your riding...’

‘I can ride here.’

‘Not—’

‘Grandpa, it doesn’t matter.’ Erin reached out and took his hand. ‘I want to live here. It’s my decision.’

‘And...and Mike McTavish had nothing to do with it?’

Erin shook her head and smiled. ‘Honest, Grandpa. It has nothing to do with Mike McTavish.’ Or, at any rate, she acknowledged to herself, not very much.

Jack O’Connell smiled, as if suspecting Erin’s mild deception. His crinkled old eyes saw heaps. They always had. ‘So why are you asking about Mike McTavish then, lass?’ he asked gently. ‘If you haven’t been thinking of him.’

‘Because I’ve already met him again...’

Briefly Erin outlined the events of the afternoon. Jack O’Connell listened in silence and then nodded slowly to himself.

‘I’ll bet Mike McTavish won’t have known about the child’s hair until it was cut,’ he said slowly. ‘Mike’s a good lad. He wouldn’t hurt a child deliberately and it’s local opinion he’s nutty on the twins. No. The haircutting sounds just like Caroline Podger.’

‘Tell me about Caroline.’ Erin nestled down in her ancient chair, contented. Jack O’Connell had always been a man of few words—but one who saw a lot for all his silence. He told no one his troubles but he seemed to know the troubles of everyone else.

Jack shrugged. ‘I can’t tell you much, girl. Only what I’ve heard on the grapevine.’

‘That’ll do me,’ Erin said promptly. ‘I seem to remember you having the best grapevine of anyone I know.’

‘Checky...’ He smiled, his old eyes drinking his granddaughter in.

‘So go on. Tell me.’

‘Caroline Podger...’ Jack nodded. ‘Well, the girl’s family have a big place north of here, I gather. They’re not much liked. Her dad treats his employees like dirt and then whinges round the district because he can’t get good help. Word is, his daughter’s worse than her old man. Rumour is she has a vicious temper, but she keeps it well hidden from those she considers important. Like Mike McTavish.’

‘Have they been engaged long?’ Erin asked, consciously trying to keep her voice sounding uninterested.

Jack threw her a look which said he wasn’t fooled in the least. ‘Three months,’ he told her. He shrugged. ‘Mike’s been on his own since his dad died. His older brother had no taste for farming and moved to Sydney—then got himself and his wife killed. Those two little kiddies landed on Mike’s doorstep the day after.’ He grimaced. ‘That put paid to Mike McTavish’s bachelor existence right there and then.’

‘He...’ Erin bit her lip. How to ask? ‘Mike’s had a few girlfriends?’

‘Well, I’ve heard he likes the ladies, does our Mike.’ Jack grinned. ‘Can’t say I blame him. I did the same once, before I met your grandmother. Still, when your grandma came along I was fair smitten—but Mike seems to have chosen his bride because of her suitability.’

‘Suitability?’

‘They move in the same circles,’ Jack told her. ‘They’ve been an on-again off-again item for years. It always seemed to the district they just used each other as a social convenience between more interesting partners—but suddenly it’s more than that. She’s getting long in the tooth—and he wants a wife.

‘Caroline’s groomed herself well for the job. She’s done a cordon bleu cookery course or some such thing in France. She makes a wonderful hostess and as a social organizer she’s second to none. Mike McTavish lived a pretty messy bachelor existence until the twins. So... he’s made up his mind to marry a lady trained for the job.’ He grimaced. ‘Can’t say I’d like to wake up next to that every morning, though.’

‘But...Grandpa, surely he must...well, he must love her. To ask her to marry him...’

‘Folk say he panicked,’ Jack said slowly. ‘And who’s to blame him—a single man saddled with two grief-stricken six-year-olds out of the blue? Maybe anyone would have panicked in the same circumstances. Grace Brown does housework for him two mornings a week, but she has her own husband and boys and farm to run. Domestic help here is darned hard to find. For Mike McTavish—a lad who doesn’t know one thing about raising kids—our Caroline must have seemed a sensible solution.

‘And maybe she’s just as pragmatic. Word is that her father’s running short on money; she’s not trained for a lot beside social niceties and Mike’s offer must have looked as good to her as it seemed sensible to him.’

‘Ugh.’

Erin shuddered and Jack O’Connell subjected his granddaughter to a long, scrutinizing stare.

‘What the squatocracy do with their lives isn’t our business, though, Erin girl,’ Jack said softly. His gaze grew a little anxious. ‘Now... You did say...you did say you were staying a while?’

‘If you’ll have me.’ Erin hesitated and then took his hand. ‘Your last letter said you’re thinking of selling.’

‘I don’t have a choice,’ her grandpa said roughly. ‘I can’t manage the place on my own any more.’ He looked out over the lush green pastures to the rolling hills beyond. This area of the western district of Victoria, with its rich river plains and scattered red gum trees was arguably one of the most beautiful parts of Australia. ‘It’ll break my heart, though, lass,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t mind admitting it.’

‘Well, that’s why I’m here.’ Erin caught his hand. ‘Grandpa, you know I love this place. You know I always have. I’ve done two years’ agricultural training between my mucking about with horses. I’ve been working part-time as farm hand and horse strapper since I left home. And all I want...’ She took a deep breath. ‘All I want from life is to live here and run this farm for you. For us. What do you say, Grandpa? Could you bear to have me?’

The old man’s eyes filled with tears. He put a hand up to shove them away but more welled up after them.

‘You wouldn’t be bored silly?’ he managed in a choked voice.

‘I promise.’

‘There’s not much social life round here.’

‘I don’t need social life.’

‘But...a girl like you should be going to parties. Enjoying yourself. Meeting young men and getting married.’

Erin shook her head.

‘Not me, Grandpa,’ she said softly. ‘Believe me. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything. Only you and Paddy and this farm.’

‘You’re crazy,’ the old man whispered, a smile wavering out between tears.

‘Crazy or not, if you’ll have me I’m staying.’

Erin slept soundly in the same bed she’d slept in as a teenager. She was woken at dawn by magpies and kookaburras, and when she flung open the window to greet the day she was met by a huge Hereford cow. The creature shoved her nose in and inspected Erin’s pyjamaclad figure with interest.

‘Ugh...’ Laughing and supremely content, Erin shoved the nose back outside. ‘Introductions later, ma’am.’

Still laughing, she showered and dressed fast and made her way outside.

Breakfast took ages. Jack O’Connell was almost absurdly anxious that she’d changed her mind in the night, but was intent, nevertheless, on telling her the worst.

There was a small voice at the back of Erin’s head telling her she wanted to spend the morning visiting the twins—and their uncle—but on that first morning Jack went through the farm figures with her.

Erin blocked the McTavishes from her thoughts and listened with care. This was important. This was her future life. As she went slowly through the books she was never more grateful for her farm management training.

There were things wrong here that needed to be faced, but there was nothing insurmountable. By the end of the morning there was hope in both their faces. Jack and Erin ate a companionable lunch, both immeasurably cheered, and then Jack disappeared for an afternoon nap. Finally Erin let her inner voice hold sway. She went to saddle Paddy.

‘Your first gallop on an Australian farm,’ she said fondly to the horse as she saddled him. ‘I hope you like it, Pad. I think we’re here to stay.’

She should be checking Jack’s stock, she thought as she and Paddy finally rode east across the paddocks towards the McTavishes. From here the Hereford herd looked lazy, well fed and contented, but, by the look of the books, Erin knew there were problems. Grandpa hadn’t got round to drenching this year, and his calving had been a disaster.

There was also the little matter of the hay...

The problems would have to wait. Erin’s inner voice was fair screaming at her now. It was a case of priorities again, she told herself. Laura and Matthew were top of the list.

The fact that she’d see Mike McTavish again had nothing to do with it!

The twins were waiting for her—two small urchins hanging over the gate—and their matching grins as Erin and Paddy appeared over the rise made Erin grin herself. What a difference! This was certainly a change from yesterday.

‘We’ve been waiting and waiting,’ Laura announced importantly. ‘Since crack of dawn!’

‘Crack!’ Erin whistled, impressed. ‘Wow!’

‘Mike says we have to tell him as soon as you arrive—and we asked Mrs Brown to make scones before she went home. All we have to do is stick them in the oven and they’ll take twelve minutes.’ Both children regarded Erin anxiously, as if she might dig her heels into Paddy’s flanks and gallop off. ‘You can stay twelve minutes, can’t you?’

‘Of course I can,’ Erin smiled, dismounting. ‘For fresh scones, I could stay an hour.’

They hardly heard. Their matching whoops of delight filled the yard as both children screamed off towards the house.

‘Uncle Mike...Mike, she’s here. Mike...’

The title seemed to be dropped at will, Erin thought, noting that the children were more accustomed to just plain ‘Mike’ than ‘Uncle Mike’. It seemed a healthy sign. With Aunt Caroline there was no such dropping of the guard.

‘Mike... She’s here, Mike, and she’s brought Paddy.’

The children were pretending to be aeroplanes, Erin figured, watching them swoop their arms and veer from side to side as they ran. Two happy, healthy, normal six-year-olds. The change from yesterday was amazing.

Ten seconds later they reappeared from the house, each towing the unfortunate Mike’s hand. Whatever their uncle had been doing had clearly been deemed unimportant.

Mike was laughing, though. A willing prisoner...

‘Now, you stay and talk to Erin,’ Laura bossed importantly, towing her uncle close and abandoning him. ‘Matthew and I have to fix the scones.’ She hesitated. ‘But you’ll come in and take them out of the oven when we yell, won’t you?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Mrs Brown said we weren’t allowed to do that ourselves.’

‘I sure will.’ Mike ruffled Laura’s hair before sending both aeroplanes winging back across the yard: He watched them go with affection and then turned to Erin. The smile Erin knew so well creased his face.

‘Thank you for coming.’ He smiled. ‘The twins were counting on it.’

His smile deepened—and locked. And then faded as if Mike McTavish was suddenly unsure.

‘I...I promised.’

‘So you did.’

There was no sign of Caroline. The relief of not having to face the supercilious woman was making Erin feel light-headed; Mike McTavish had always had the power to make her feel different. Special.

‘Would you like to let Paddy loose to graze? There’s a small paddock behind the sheds.’ With a perceptible effort Mike shifted his gaze to Paddy.

‘No.’ Erin fought to make her voice less breathless. ‘I’ll just hitch him...’

‘You’re not staying long?’

‘Long enough for some scones.’ Still the same stupid breathlessness.

‘Paddy’s a great horse.’

Mike McTavish’s voice seemed almost as constrained as Erin’s. Both of them were focusing their attention on the horse to take off the pressure. Mike ran a hand over Paddy’s gleaming flank. Erin had groomed him for half an hour before saddling him and it showed, his jet-black coat shining like velvet. The farmer stood back and looked at the gleaming thoroughbred, assessing him carefully. ‘He looks...he looks almost as if he could have been a racehorse.’

‘He’s an old steeplechaser,’ Erin told him, her eyes starting to smile again. Any talk of Paddy made her smile. ‘Well—he was a would-be steeplechaser. He moves like the wind in training, but, given a line-up of horses on a track, Paddy stops dead and waits for the others to disappear. He likes the attention all to himself, does my Paddy.’

There was no disguising the affection in Erin’s voice, and Mike looked across at her curiously.

His gaze unsettled her.

Well, if he was assessing Erin as well as Paddy, at least she wasn’t quite as disreputable as yesterday, Erin decided nervously as Mike’s eyes raked her slim body. She was still clad in jeans and T-shirt but her hair was neatly brushed and tied back with a scarf, and she was almost clean.

Almost. She couldn’t be immaculate after spending half an hour grooming a dusty horse.

‘You are American,’ Mike said slowly as he looked at her. ‘Your accent...’

‘It’s not much of one,’ Erin said defensively, and flushed.

‘It’s definitely not Australian.’

‘If I’ve lost my Aussie drawl I’m happy,’ she smiled. ‘But I’d prefer not to sound too broadly American.’

‘I think your speech is a mixture of both.’ Mike grinned. ‘I wouldn’t worry. It’s attractive...’

Oh, great. Erin had come a long way, then. Fourteen years ago she’d been nothing but a gawky kid. Now at least she had an attractive accent!

‘I’ve been trying to figure you out.’ Mike took Paddy’s reins from her and led him over to the trough beside the verandah. This place was well set up for horses. ‘Erin O’Connell... I didn’t think Jack had any relatives in the country.’

‘He has me.’ Her voice sounded a bit breathless.

‘He hasn’t seen much of you,’ Mike said slowly. ‘He’s been pretty neglected these last few years.’

There was an edge of criticism in his tone and Erin flushed.

‘I would have come before,’ she said softly, not meeting his eye. ‘But it wasn’t possible.’

‘You must be Jack’s son’s daughter?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought I recognized you,’ he said slowly. ‘Jack’s son left for America almost twenty years ago and Jack never talks about him. But you...you came back to visit when you were a kid...’

‘That’s right.’

‘I vaguely remember. But that was just you.’ Mike’s brow was still creased in thought. ‘It hasn’t been possible for your father to visit?’ There was no mistaking the implied criticism now, and Erin found her temper rising to match his tone.

‘No.’

‘Money’s a problem, then, is it?’

Whew... Erin took a hasty step back. Michael McTavish’s tone had been sardonic, and Erin’s temper moved from simmering to hiss of steam. If he knew the real reason...

She was darned if she’d tell him. Sympathy was one thing she didn’t want from this man.

‘Our family’s finances are none of your business, Mike McTavish...’ She took a deep breath, searching for control. ‘But you shouldn’t have to ask. I’d imagine you can guess. Tramps don’t earn enough to fund overseas travel.’

‘Ouch!’

Mike blinked at the flaming virago before him and his eyes slowly crinkled into a lazy, self deprecating smile. ‘Touché, Miss O’Connell.’ The sarcasm in his voice disappeared and his smile deepened. ‘I guess, despite your neglect of your grandpa, I do owe you an apology for yesterday. Caroline was overwrought. She’d been very worried.’

‘I could see that,’ Erin agreed, her temper still simmering. ‘Out scouring paddocks with you, was she? Or sitting by the phone, frantic with anxiety?’

It was Mike’s turn to glower then. The easy smile slipped.

‘You’ve a sharp tongue.’

‘It’s my bad upbringing,’ Erin said softly. ‘I didn’t go to the right schools.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake...’ Mike spread his hands. He sighed. ‘Look, Miss O’Connell, can we call a truce? It’s too nice a day for World War Three and the twins are cooking scones. Come on into the house and we’ll see how they’re going.’

‘Do you have a tradesman’s entrance?’ Erin muttered, and Mike’s expression of exasperation deepened.

‘Miss O’Connell...’

‘Sir!’

‘Erin, shut up!’

She glowered some more, but couldn’t quite maintain it. Her eyes peeped up at him and a twinkle lurked in their clear green depths.

He saw it.

‘You’re laughing at me,’ he said slowly.

‘Me? Laugh at you?’ Erin tugged an imaginary forelock. ‘Oh, please, sir, no, sir. I never could, sir. Not in a million years. I know my place, sir.’

‘Erin?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘If you don’t shut up and come and eat some scones, your place will be at the bottom of the duck pond. I believe that was the remedy for harping women in times when the lower order knew their place.’

‘The ducking stool or nothing.’ She grinned. ‘But it will have been worth it. To harp or not to harp...’ She was feeling light-headed and silly and it showed. It was a glorious day. She was finally where she wanted to be— in Australia again after all these years. The horrid Caroline was nowhere to be seen and all seemed right with her world.

‘You’re nuts, Erin O’Connell,’ Mike McTavish said slowly, staring down at her with the beginnings of laughter in his eyes.

‘You’ve only just noticed that?’ Erin smiled up at him. ‘Well, Mr McTavish...sir...’ She bobbed a mock curtsey. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!’

What followed was a very happy half-hour. Mike and Erin’s conversation degenerated into silliness and the twins joined in with relish.

‘Now, best manners, please, you lot,’ Mike ordered as he and Erin entered the kitchen. ‘You know how Australia and England and Canada all have the same Queen?’

‘Yes?’ Both twins gazed at their uncle, bemused.

‘Well, this lady’s from America.’ Mike grinned. ‘And the Americans were so rude about paying for some tea a long time ago that the Queen didn’t want them any more. So...it’s up to us to teach her manners—show her we’re brought up properly in the Antipodes.’

The twins glanced nervously from Erin to Mike—and slowly relaxed. They didn’t understand what Mike was talking about but they could sense laughter in their big uncle and they were all too ready to join in.

The twins and the unknown Mrs Brown had excelled themselves. The scones were light, fluffy and delicious. There was a vast bowl of farm cream to go with them and strawberry jam tasting of strawberries straight from the garden.

‘Mrs Brown made strawberry jam last Monday,’ Laura told Erin importantly, helping herself to a fourth scone. ‘We helped.’

‘I hope you stayed clean all the time,’ Erin smiled. Then she caught herself. It was okay to mock Mike McTavish—but not the children. To her delight, though, Laura giggled.

‘We didn’t,’ Laura admitted. ‘Mrs Brown said we looked like two Indian warriors in war paint after we’d finished. She tossed us into the bath, clothes and all.’

Erin smiled back and then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added another question.

‘Doesn’t Caroline come on Mondays either?’

Silence.

Matthew slowly shook his head and both children stared down at their plates.

Then, as one, the twins pushed back their plates and rose.

‘We’ll meet you outside,’ Laura said. ‘We’ll go and pat Paddy.’

The message was plain: if you intend to speak about Caroline, we’re off.

The door slammed behind them and Erin slowly turned back to Mike.

‘I’m sorry...’

His laughter had faded as well.

‘I’ll thank you not to do that,’ he said savagely. ‘Criticizing Caroline in front of the children...’

‘I hardly criticized her,’ Erin muttered. ‘I only asked if she came on Mondays.’

‘You know exactly what you did.’

‘Yes.’ Erin stood up, gathering plates and carrying them across to the sink. This man wasn’t her social better, even though he had more money. He wasn’t even twenty years old any more, to her gawky fourteen years. She owed him nothing—and it was time he heard the truth. She turned back to face him, leaning against the bench with the table between them. ‘I know what I did. I inferred the twins don’t have fun when Caroline’s around. But it’s true, isn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Erin shrugged. ‘They seem scared stiff of her if you ask me.’

‘Only because she disciplines them,’ Mike said slowly. ‘With me...with me they run wild. Laura especially. Matt just goes silent—sometimes for days on end—and I worry about him. I can’t seem to get through to the kid.’

He spread his hands. ‘Do you have any idea how difficult it is, Miss O’Connell, to be thrown in at the deep end as parent to two grief stricken six-year-olds? You’ve no idea, have you? I had to fly up to Sydney and collect them from their babysitter the night their parents were killed. I was at a bucks’ party when the call came. To be catapulted like that...’

He sighed and spread his hands. ‘Look, I’m doing my best, but I’m not a parent. Caroline takes on that role and I’m grateful to her. She makes sure they’re respectable and well disciplined and...and safe, and I’d be mad if I sat here and let you criticize her. We’re both doing what we can in a very difficult situation, Miss O’Connell, and your interference isn’t helping one bit.’

‘So I should have left them on the road yesterday? I should have driven right on?’

‘That’s not what I mean and you know it.’

‘It is what you mean in a sense,’ Erin said slowly. ‘You’re saying I should butt out of what’s not my business, and if I’d done that then I would have driven on yesterday instead of stopping.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s not in my nature to drive on through,’ she said softly. ‘I just can’t.’

‘It might not be in your nature but it’s in your blood,’ Mike said harshly. ‘Your family left your grandfather twenty years ago, and as far as I know there’s only been the one visit since.’

Erin’s chin tilted. ‘That’s right.’ She met his look. ‘I was sent out from America at fourteen.’

‘I do vaguely remember you,’ he admitted. ‘All steel braces and freckles.’ He smiled. ‘The freckles haven’t changed.’ Then he looked at her a little more searchingly. ‘If you’re the kid I remember—I thought of you as a loner. An unhappy, solitary sort of kid. Are you an only child?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your parents sent you out by yourself.’ He grimaced. ‘It can’t have been much fun.’

‘You’re judging my father, aren’t you?’ Erin said softly. ‘You have him all summed up. A man who leaves his father and goes halfway round the world without a backward glance. A man who sends his teenage daughter overseas on her own as a sop to his conscience—once and never again.’

‘Look, there may be reasons I don’t know...’

‘There are,’ Erin said dully. ‘If you’d asked my grandfather, then maybe you would have found out.’

‘Your grandfather doesn’t talk of his family,’ Mike told her. ‘We’ve been neighbours for a long time—but when I ask about his family he clams up. He’s been so darned lonely, though. He’s been just plain miserable for the past couple of years as his health has failed, and there’s pain comes into his eyes whenever anyone asks about his family. I can sense how much he misses family, and maybe that’s why I’m sounding so judgemental.’

‘You’ve no right...’

‘Well, if you don’t want me judging, then maybe you should answer some questions.’ Mike’s dark eyes didn’t leave Erin’s face. ‘Why no contact for so long and then, a month or so after Jack broaches the idea of selling the farm, why the sudden family interest after all these years?’

Erin stared. The dark eyes were challenging hers—and she could see clearly what was behind the question.

Somehow she made herself speak. It took more strength than she knew she possessed.

‘I guess...I guess I see what you’re thinking,’ Erin managed finally, her voice trembling. She walked forward and placed her hands on the table, her eyes huge in her white face. ‘You think I’ve been sent over to get what I can for us. Is that what you think?’

‘It’s the obvious conclusion,’ Mike agreed calmly. ‘The local land agent told me Jack was thinking of selling because he knew I’d be interested in buying if the farm is sold. Then suddenly we have family interest. A lonely old man suddenly has family after twenty long years.’

‘A lonely old man suddenly has me,’ Erin whispered.

Erin could hardly think. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of impressions—and the overriding feeling was pain. This man was judging people she loved. Judging her father...

All these years the locals here had been thinking her father was a heartless, uncaring emigrant.

She wondered vaguely if her father knew what was thought of him in the place he still regarded as home. How it would hurt if he guessed! Her father loved this place more than she did.

‘Erin...’ Mike rose from his chair. The colour had bleached completely from Erin’s face and he could see the pain washing through her eyes. He’d be a fool if he couldn’t see it—and if there was one thing Mike McTavish wasn’t it was a fool.

He moved swiftly behind her and his hands dropped to her shoulders. ‘Erin, don’t look like that. You can’t help what your father is.’

The touch of his hands burned through the light fabric of Erin’s shirt. She wanted comfort so much. She wanted this man’s arms around her so much it was a physical ache. Yet here he was hurting her—hurting those she loved. What she felt in her heart was so far from common sense that Erin felt herself almost torn in two. She pulled away in real distress.

‘Don’t you touch me,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t...’

‘I only...’

‘You only thought you’d comfort me,’ she managed, and then caught herself. Comfort her? Mike McTavish had done that once before and ten years of heartache had ensued. Well, she wasn’t taking any comfort from him now.

‘I don’t need your comfort,’ she said bleakly. ‘I don’t need anything you have on offer, Mike McTavish, and my father sure as heck doesn’t need your good opinion. My father was brought up next door to you—he’s told me he and your father were good friends—and yet after we arrived in Pittsburgh all my father’s letters to yours went unanswered. He wondered why. And now I know. It was vicious, idle gossip and judgement. Judging things you know nothing about. Well, you and all the people in this nosy, judgemental district can take a long hike for all I care. There’s only my grandfather that matters.’

And, to her horror, she felt tears welling up and threatening to fall.

Erin blinked—and blinked again. And then she sniffed.

She was darned if she was going to cry before this man. No way!

She didn’t cry. She never cried!

She wiped the threatening tears angrily away with one hand while fending off Mike McTavish’s comfort with the other. A hand went down to her jeans pocket, searching for a tissue—and found nothing.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she whispered again.

‘I won’t.’

Mike had seen the searching hand, though. Without comment, he handed her a large, man’s handkerchief and then stood back watching—as one would watch a strange, unknown creature one didn’t know how the heck to deal with.

Erin accepted the handkerchief with real gratitude. She blew her nose hard and glared—and, to her disgust, found Mike McTavish was smiling.

‘A good blow always makes you feel better.’ Then, as Erin looked helplessly down at the handkerchief, his grin deepened.

‘You seem to accuse me of being landed gentry,’ he smiled. ‘Well, here’s a gesture for you. Keep the handkerchief. I can afford it!’

‘Th—thanks,’ she whispered, her anger disappearing and an awful grimness seeping in. She’d exposed herself with this man—and she didn’t like it one bit.

As always, when feeling her worst, Erin sought for laughter. She looked down at the damp handkerchief.

‘Are you sure you want me to keep it?’ she managed. ‘There’s three perfectly good quarters left.’

‘I’m absolutely sure.’ Mike’s smile was one of pure admiration.

Erin’s watery smile faded. If only he didn’t make her feel so...so... So like being fourteen years old all over again!

‘I’m...I’m going home now,’ she whispered. ‘Tell the twins...tell the twins they’re welcome to visit me. If they cut across the paddocks it’s a safe walk to my grandpa’s farm—but I won’t be coming back here.’

Mike nodded, as if her statement had been expected. ‘I’ll tell them.’

‘You will let them come?’ Erin found herself suddenly anxious. ‘You will let them visit?’

‘The twins can visit whoever they like,’ Mike said calmly. ‘And I’m sure they’d love to see you again.’

Implying that Mike McTavish wouldn’t, Erin thought bleakly. Erin could hear that decision clearly in his voice.

‘Fine.’ Erin practised her glare one last time, even if her glare was still watery. Mike’s dark eyes were watching her calmly now, unsmiling. ‘I’ll go...’

She turned to the door but the door was flung open before she reached it.

‘Mike...Erin, come quick...’ It was Laura, white faced with terror, bursting through the door and almost falling with the force of her entry. ‘Erin, Matthew’s on Paddy and Paddy took off down the paddock so fast I can’t catch him. And he’s taking Matthew away...’

CHAPTER FOUR

PADDY and Matthew were well away.

Mike and Erin burst through the back door as one—to find the yard empty. Paddy had been hitched to the trough. There was no Paddy and no Matthew.

‘Where...?’ Mike gazed round, fast. There was no sign of boy or horse.

‘Paddy wanted something to eat,’ Laura faltered. ‘At least, we thought he did. So me and Matt took him over into the wheat paddock—just to give him a taste...’

‘The wheat paddock...’ Mike was already starting to run, his big hand gripping Laura’s. Erin ran too, unsure of where they were going but darned if she was being left behind. ‘Laura, you did say Matt was on the horse?’ Mike demanded. They were halfway across the yard, Laura being half carried by the speed of Mike’s run.

‘Matt wanted to get up on Paddy’s back,’ Laura sobbed, breathless from running. ‘So we held Paddy near the gate and Matt climbed on. And Matt said “Giddyup” and Paddy did. They rode all the way up the paddock and Paddy was going really, really fast and Matt yelled “stop” but Paddy didn’t...’

Neither did Mike. He ditched Laura’s hand and his long legs left both Erin and Laura behind. By the time Erin reached the gate behind the house, Mike was already through, shading his eyes and trying desperately to see across the sea of wheat.

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