him. As she went back to the house he had a strong urge to follow her and force some kind of confrontation. Instead he bent his attention to the pictures in front of him.
Shahna almost wished she hadn’t invited Kier to look at the album, although she was proud of her work and wanted him to know it. Seeing him prowling ’round her studio, his keen gaze taking in everything before he looked back at her, had unsettled her.
When he rejoined them she was placing a peeled banana half in Samuel’s outstretched hand and removing the empty bowl in front of him.
“I’m impressed,” Kier said, making her feel ridiculously pleased and proud. She already knew she was good—people with much more knowledge than he had said so. Yet Kier’s praise gave her greater pleasure than anyone’s.
“Thank you.” She tried to sound nonchalant.
“If you don’t mind I’ll leave my things to dry here and pick them up tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I thought you’d be moving on today.”
“No,” he said. “I won’t be.” He was regarding her narrowly as though watching for her reaction. “I’m staying.”
“Staying?” Shahna stared blankly at him, her heart doing a flip. “You can’t! Not here.”
Perhaps annoyed at her obvious dismay, he said shortly, “Ace offered me a bed at the farm. Hokianga hospitality, he said.”
It was famous, but Shahna hadn’t bargained on Ace being quite so ready to volunteer it, although she knew his parents would happily give Kier one of their spare rooms for the night.
“He said they’d expect me for dinner,” Kier said. Unless he was intending to stay in the cottage, Ace had said, adding with a sidelong glance, “But Shahna’s only got the two bedrooms, and there’s plenty of room at our place.”
Kier had wondered if the invitation was a means of discovering just how close he and Shahna were. Or even of ensuring that he didn’t spend the night with her.
But Ace had quite cheerfully gone off and left Kier to find his own way later to the farmhouse. He didn’t act like a jealous lover.
Shahna watched Kier walk away until he was out of sight among the trees. In the morning she would hand over his washing and make it clear she had no claim or interest in him before sending him on his way forever.
Never mind that the thought made her heart turn to lead and brought a lump into her throat that threatened to choke her.
And never mind that she dreamed of him all night—disturbingly erotic dreams that left her lethargic and yet dissatisfied.
In the morning Samuel was eager to explore his newly fenced domain.
First, though, Shahna wanted to get rid of the sheep droppings. She was busy with a bamboo rake while Samuel watched her from behind the barrier across the doorway, occasionally complaining at his imprisonment, when Kier arrived.
She turned from her task to see him striding across the space between them, stunning in fresh jeans and a shirt a shade darker than his eyes. Before she’d had time to catch her breath and say good morning, he’d taken the rake from her. “Let me do that.”
“I can manage.”
But he was already getting on with the not-too-pleasant task, and Samuel chose that moment to protest in earnest about being left out of all the fun.
“Look after Sam,” Kier said, as if she wasn’t doing that, Shahna thought with mild annoyance as she went to quiet the baby, then carried him over to say hello.
“What do you want me to do with this stuff?” Kier asked.
“Bag it and add it to my compost. Now that we have a fence I plan to put in a flower garden along the front of the house.”
“The ground’s pretty hard,” Kier said.
He would know, after digging holes for the fence yesterday. “It’s fertile,” she told him. “There’s plenty of manure from the sheep and my hens, and Morrie promised to get me a load of untreated sawdust.”
“Do you have a spade?”
She fetched it for him and held a bag while he emptied the sheep manure into it, then he hauled it around the back and forked it into her compost heap. After that the least she could do was offer him a cup of tea.
While Samuel chewed on a piece of toast in his high chair, she asked, “Do you know how Morrie’s hand is?”
“It looks bad. Alison insisted on taking him to get it looked at this morning.”
Shahna was fairly sure that Morrie wouldn’t have let his wife persuade him if he hadn’t been in considerable pain and probably more than a little worried. “Poor Morrie. I must phone Alison later.”
“You’re quite close to…the family?” Kier inquired.
“They’ve been good to me, and I try to repay them any way I can.”
“You can’t have many friends, out in the country like this.”
“I know most of the locals, at least to say hello to. And there’s a playgroup that I take Samuel to twice a week. All the mothers get a chance for some adult company.”
Kier glanced at her shrewdly. “Do you miss that? Adult company?”
“Not much. But it’s nice to talk to people with similar interests now and then.”
“Similar interests?” Kier looked incredulous.
“We all have young children, for one thing,” she reminded him rather tartly. “But we talk about a lot of other things too. Books, art, the education system, what’s in the news, farming, TV—I don’t have one, but the McKenzies ask me over sometimes when there’s something special on… It isn’t all knitting and cooking.”
“I’m sure it’s very stimulating.”
She flashed him a look. “It may sound boring to you—”
“It just doesn’t sound like you,” he commented. “Unless you’ve changed a lot.”
“A baby gives you a new perspective on life.”
Kier scowled at her, perplexed. “It doesn’t lead many people to alter their life so radically.”
“I suppose not,” Shahna acknowledged. “But it was the right thing for me…and the Scamp.”
Hearing his nickname, Samuel began to bang on the tray of the high chair, making little crowing noises. Shahna offered him another piece of toast that he declined decisively by throwing it on the floor. Chiding him, she picked it up and popped it into the scrap bucket she kept for the hens before releasing him from the chair.
Kier stood up too. “I’ll dig that garden for you.”
“There’s no need…”
But
