The Whisperer. Elsa Winckler

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The Whisperer - Elsa  Winckler

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blew out a heartfelt sigh. “And fortunately for us, they’re not boys any longer.”

      Cilla got out slowly. Cameron was walking towards her. He nodded in Imke’s direction, but his eyes never left Cilla’s. When he reached her, he put out his hand. She swallowed and waited a second before she shook his hand. Was she going to have a similar I-know-what-your-fingers-feel-around-mine-like experience to the one she had yesterday, or had that only been her imagination?

      His fingers closed around hers and, rattled, she met his gaze. She recognized his hands, she knew how they’d feel, even the heat travelling up her arm was familiar, something she’d experienced before.

      Quickly she tugged her hand from his and motioned in Imke’s direction.

      “This is my friend. Imke,” she said and turned towards her. And blinked. Something very strange was going on. The man standing in front of Imke had taken both her hands in his and his fingers were playing with hers.

      “Imke?” Cilla asked, completely stunned.

      Blushing, Imke pulled her hands away. “You haven’t told me the men around here are such smooth talkers,” she giggled, her eyes still on the big man in front of her.

      “My brother, Philip.” Cameron said. “The charmer of the family.”

      Philip smiled and greeted her. “I have to be, he’s the grumpy one,” he said, slapping his brother on the back.

      “I know,” slipped out before Cilla could help herself.

      Cameron frowned but ignored her remark. “If you don’t mind, could you look at Bravo before we have lunch?”

      “Of course, he’s the reason I’m here,” Cilla said.

      “Do you want to join us?” Cameron asked Imke.

      “Yes, please. I would love to look at your horses and I enjoy watching Cilla when she works. You should listen to her, she knows what she’s doing.”

      Cameron rubbed his face. “Look, I have a BSc degree in Agricultural Science. I know farm animals, I know when they’re ill and I know what to do about it. I rely on facts, on things I can see and understand. What Cilla here proposes to do, I find …”

      “… weird was one of the kinder words you used yesterday,” Cilla said with a straight face.

      A ghost of a smile turned up one of the corners of his mouth. “Strange is the word I was going to use. My dad had horses when we were little but I can’t remember ever having a horse as ornery as this black stallion. I’ve tried everything I can think of. At this point I’m willing to try anything, even listen to your strange and okay, weird ideas.”

      He started walking in the direction of the stables. Cilla fell into step next to him.

      “What made you change your mind? About asking me. Yesterday you didn’t want to listen to anything I had to say but then you phoned me?”

      “Another farm hand is now also in hospital. Ken suggested I phone you again.”

      “Oh.” Cilla bit her lip to keep back the giggle that threatened to erupt. He obviously found it very difficult to acknowledge when he’d been wrong.

      She glanced in his direction, but he was looking straight ahead of him.

      As they neared the stables, Ken stepped out. “Good morning, Cilla. I’m very glad that certain people around here finally changed their minds and asked you to come over again. This morning, Bravo is completely out of control. I’m not sure whether you should go in there alone.”

      Cilla put a hand on his arm. “He and I understand one another, don’t worry. I know what the problem is, but let me talk to him again, there may be something else bothering him.”

      Behind her, Cameron mumbled something incoherent but she ignored him. Imke followed her into the stables.

      “I’m coming with you, I’d love to see the other horses.”

      The two women disappeared into the stables and Cameron put his hands in his trouser pockets. It was much better to have them there otherwise he might do something utterly stupid like taking Cilla’s hand in his.

      He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he was struggling to keep his hands to himself, the need to touch her was overwhelming. When she was walking beside him just now, he’d wanted to put an arm around her, as if it was something that he did regularly, as if he’d done it before.

      And her perfume. She smelled like roses. A huge bed of red roses. Yesterday her scent had infiltrated every pore of his body, leaving him aching and lusting after her. Hell, he’d hardly slept last night. When he woke up this morning he could swear he still smelled roses.

      He swore. He didn’t want this woman on his farm, he didn’t want her near him. She was trouble with a capital T. He needed to get out more. Philip kept telling him he needed more of a social life and maybe his brother was right. All those women he was afraid of meeting? He should go and meet them, have sex with them so that he wasn’t this sex starved next time a beautiful woman visited his farm.

      Feminine laughter floated towards him and the next minute Cilla and Bravo exited the stables. Bravo gave him a spiteful look before he turned away.

      “Well, I never,” Ken said behind him. “He doesn’t want me near him, but he is quite happy to be led by Cilla.” He barked out a laugh. “I won’t be surprised if he sticks his tongue out!”

      Imke grinned, staring after her friend. “He’s putty in her hands. She has a way with her, you should listen to her suggestions.”

      Like the previous day, Cilla led the horse to the centre of the big circle and stood silently next to him for what felt like a long time. Then she rubbed his face, turned and walked him back towards the stables.

      After a few minutes she came out alone.

      “And? Can you help us?” Ken asked.

      “It depends,” Cilla said. “Are you going to do what I say you should do?”

      He felt Ken’s eyes on him.

      Cameron folded his arms. “I’ll listen to what you have to say,” he finally said. “Let’s go and have lunch, we can talk then.”

      They all walked back towards the farmhouse. Cilla looked around her. The view was truly spectacular. Closer to the homestead she noticed the piece of garden where the gardener worked yesterday. Beyond that, another piece of earth had been readied for something to be planted in it.

      Cilla motioned in that direction. “What are you going to plant over there?”

      “Canola. It blooms during winter. I don’t know if you’ve seen a field of buttercups in bloom before, but it is a beautiful sight,” Philip said.

      “We are both born and bred Overberg girls,” Imke smiled. “Cilla’s parents farm just outside Caledon and my dad works for the beer brewery in town. And although we’ve both worked overseas and have seen the world, Cilla was in America and I was in China, to us, this region is still the most beautiful piece of

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