little things—like his hands. I love his hands, she decided suddenly. And the way his eyes can laugh, the way his hair falls in his eyes sometimes.
‘Not only that,’ he went on, and took his hand from her hair to rub his jaw ruefully, ‘what it makes you, Mrs Smith, is simply very human. We all make mistakes and some dodgy judgements.’
Bridget thought for a moment, then said, ‘I guess so.’
He grimaced at the lack of conviction in her voice. ‘But there must be more to Bridget Smith.’ He raised his voice as the thunder growled overhead. ‘Tell me about your likes and dislikes. What makes you tick?’
‘I’m very ordinary.’ She paused and cast him a suddenly mischievous little look. ‘Well, I do a lot of things fairly competently, but to date nothing outstand-ingly—although I’m living in hope that my true forte is still to make itself known.’
He laughed. ‘What about all the things you do fairly well?’
‘Let’s see. I paint—at one stage I thought I might be the next Margaret Olley, as I love painting flowers, but not so. I also like doing landscapes. I play the piano, but any hopes I would be the next Eileen Joyce were dashed early on. Mind you, I still enjoy doing both. I once thought I’d like to be a landscape gardener. My parents had a few acres and I loved pottering around the garden.’
She paused and thought. ‘And I ride—I love horses. I don’t have any of my own, although I did have a couple of ponies as a kid, and I help out at a riding school for disabled children. I seem to have a rapport with kids. Uh…I read all the time, I enjoy cooking, I enjoy being at home and pottering—oh, and I sing.’
‘Professionally?’ he queried.
She shook her head, her eyes dancing. ‘No. I did believe I might be the next Sarah Brightman, but again not so. That doesn’t stop me from singing in the shower and anywhere else I can manage it.’
‘Sing for me.’
‘Now?’
‘Why not?’
So she sang a couple of bars of ‘Memory’, from Cats, in her light, sweet soprano. When she’d finished she confessed she was mad about musicals.
‘You sound like a pretty well-rounded girl to me,’ he said, with a ghost of a smile still lurking on his lips. ‘In days gone by you would have had all the qualifications to be a genteel wife and mother.’
‘That sounds really—unexciting,’ she said with a gurgle of laughter. ‘But it’s probably in line with what one of my teachers told me. She said to me, “You’re not going to set the world on fire academically, Bridget, but you are a thoroughly nice girl.”’ She looked comically heavenwards. ‘Unexciting, or what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He grinned, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘It’s nice to be nice, and I think you are nice.’
Bridget smiled back at him, unexpectedly warmed. Then a twinkle of humour lit her eyes. ‘I showed her I wasn’t such a disaster academically when I got to uni, and I got honours in a couple of subjects, but enough about me—tell me about you?’
His chiselled lips twisted. ‘I wouldn’t know where to begin.’
‘Well, how old are you and where were you born? What do you do? That kind of thing.’
‘I’m thirty-one—whereas you would be…twenty-two?’
‘Twenty-three.’
‘Twenty-three,’ he repeated. ‘I was born in Sydney. I’ve done many things. I’m also pretty keen on horses, but—’ he raised his eyebrows ‘—since you ask, I’m something of a rolling stone.’
‘You mean—no ties?’ she hazarded.
‘No ties,’ he agreed.
‘Did you get your fingers burnt by a woman once?’
For some reason that quiet question, uttered with a mix of wisdom and compassion, caught his attention fairly and squarely, and his remarkable blue gaze rested on Bridget thoughtfully for a long moment. ‘You could say so.’
‘Would you like to tell me?’
A little jolt of laughter shook him. ‘No.’
Bridget faced him expressionlessly. Her hair had dried to a silky cap of copper-gold, brought to life by the firelight. Her eyes were greener in that same firelight. And, while the teddy bear pyjamas made her look about sixteen, there was, as the man called Adam knew, a perfect little figure beneath them, with high breasts, hips like perfect fruit and a slender waist.
She was also, he reflected, brave.
And no fool, he discovered, when she said, repeating what he’d said to her, ‘But maybe it needs to be told?’
He pushed the blanket away and sat up beside her. The thunder was still growling, but it seemed to be moving away. The rain was still falling, but it was much lighter now. How did I get myself into this? he found himself wondering, and looked around somewhat ruefully, then down at the borrowed track pants and T-shirt he was wearing.
‘I don’t shock easily,’ Bridget murmured. ‘Did she run away with another man?’
He stared at her, and a muscle flickered in his jaw. Then he smiled, a wry little smile that didn’t touch his eyes. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Well, with a woman involved, that’s often how it goes. However…’ Bridget paused, and wrinkled her brow. ‘He must have had a lot more than you to offer materially, otherwise she must have been crazy!’
‘Why?’
Bridget blinked and blushed. Then she grimaced inwardly and acknowledged that she’d allowed her tongue to run away with her. So, how to retrieve the situation with minimum embarrassment? Maybe just the truth…?
‘You’re pretty good-looking, you know. Not only that, you’re amazingly resourceful, you’re strong, and I couldn’t think of anyone I would feel safer with.’
‘Thank you,’ Adam said gravely. ‘None of that was enough to hold her, however. Although I have to admit the competition was quite stiff.’
Bridget frowned. ‘But that makes her somewhat suspect, I would say, and maybe not worthy of too much regret?’
He waited impassively, and she tilted her head to one side enquiringly at him. Then he said, ‘Have you quite finished, Mrs Smith?’
Bridget immediately looked immensely contrite. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said softly. ‘It still hurts a lot, I guess? Shall we change the subject?’
Adam swore as he rolled off the bed and went to put the kettle on the stove.
Bridget watched from the bed as he rinsed the mugs in a bucket. The paraffin lamplight softened the outlines of the piled-high bales of straw, but didn’t pierce all the shadows in the shed. At least the worst of the storm had definitely moved away.
He
