to get back to the pub sooner or later. Try outdoors, near the fountain. Clay was there a few minutes ago. I don’t think he’s come back into the house.’
‘Will do.’ Rory tipped a finger to his temple.
It would turn out to be one of the best moves he had ever made.
The marble three-tiered fountain, monumental in size to suit the grand proportions of the house, was playing; an object of fascination for the children who had to be dragged away from the water by their mothers before they fell in or climbed in as one daring six-year-old had already done and been lightly chastised for. At such times he always remembered how his father had used to bawl him out as a child. It seemed like he had always made his father mad. Madder and madder as the years wore on. And later after their grandad died, the blind rages that took longer and longer to blow over.
A tall, handsome young man stood like a monarch at the top of the broad sloping lawn that ran down to a sun spangled creek. White lilies were blooming all around the banks, an exquisite foil for the sparkling stream and the green foliage of the reeds and the myriad water plants. Rory walked toward him, his spirits growing lighter. Surely it was Clay Dyson? Dyson was an arresting looking guy, hard to miss. Rory let his amazement show on his face.
‘It is Clay, isn’t it? Clay Dyson?’ he called. ‘Used to be overseer on Havilah a couple of years back?’
The other man turned, his face breaking into a smile of surprise as he recognised his visitor. He walked toward Rory, thrusting out a welcoming hand. ‘Cunningham now, Rory. Cunningham is my real name by the way. How are you and what are you doing so far from home?’ he exclaimed. ‘Not that it isn’t great to see you.’
‘Great to see you!’ Rory responded in kind, returning the handshake. He hadn’t known Clay Dyson—Cunningham whatever—all that well, but what he’d seen and what he’d heard he’d liked. ‘So what’s the story, Clay? And this homestead!’ He turned to gaze towards the front facade. ‘It’s magnificent.’
‘It is,’ Clay agreed with serene pride. ‘There is a story, of course. A long one. I’ll tell you sometime, but to cut it short it all came about through a bitter family feud. You know about them?’
‘I do.’ Rory made a wry face.
‘Mercifully the feud has been put to bed,’ Clay said with satisfaction. ‘My great-uncle Angus left me all this.’ He threw out his arm with a flourish. ‘Caroline, my wife, and I have only recently called a halt to renovations. They were mighty extensive and mighty expensive. What I inherited was a far cry from what you see now.’
‘So I believe,’ Rory said in an admiring voice. ‘I’m staying at the Jimboorie pub for a few days. Vince told me about the open day out here. I’m glad I came.’
‘So am I.’ Clay smiled. ‘Have you met Caroline yet?’
‘The very beautiful blonde with the big brown eyes?’ Rory gave the other man a sideways grin.
‘That’s Caroline!’ Clay couldn’t keep the proud smile off his face.
‘I haven’t had the pleasure,’ Rory said. ‘You’re one lucky guy, Cunningham.’
‘You should talk!’ Clay scoffed, totally unaware of Rory’s changed circumstances. ‘How’s Jay isn’t it, and your dad?’
‘Jay’s fine. He’s the heir. My dad and I had one helluva bust up. That’s why I’m on the road.’
Clay was aware of the pain and anger behind the easy conversational tone. ‘That’s rough! I’m sorry to hear it.’ The Comptons had been an eminent Channel Country cattle family for generations. Where did that leave Rory?
‘It was a long time coming,’ Rory told him calmly. ‘I didn’t have any choice but to hit the road. I have some money set aside from my grandad. I guess he knew in his bones I might be in need of it sometime. What I’m looking for now is a spread of my own. Nothing like Jimboorie of course. I’m nowhere in your league, but a nice little run I can bring up to scratch and sell off as I move up the chain.’
Clay looked down to the creek, where children were running and shrieking, overexcited. ‘No chance your dad will cool off, Rory? Could there be a reconciliation?’
Rory uncovered his head, his thick wavy hair as black and glossy as a magpie’s wing. A lock fell forward on his darkly tanned forehead. ‘No way! I wouldn’t care if he did. That part of my life is over. The only thing I’m sorry about is I’m leaving Jay to it.’
Clay studied Rory with a thoughtful frown. He remembered now the Compton family history. ‘You know I might be able to help you,’ Clay confided, like someone who already had an idea in his mind, which indeed he did. ‘Why don’t you come back inside? Meet Caroline. Stay to dinner. A few friends are stopping over. I’d like you to meet them. You’re not desperate to get back to town are you?’
‘Heck no!’ Rory felt a whole lot better in two minutes flat. ‘I’d love to stay if it’s okay with your beautiful wife?’
‘It’ll be fine!’ Clay assured him, following his gut feeling about Rory Compton. This was a guy he could trust; a guy who could make a good friend. ‘Caroline will be happy to meet you. And we’ll have time to catch up.’
‘Great!’ A surge of pleasure at Clay’s hospitality ran through him. Rory whipped out his transforming smile.
Destiny has an amazing way of throwing people together.
CHAPTER TWO
RORY found it all too easy to settle into the spacious, high-ceilinged guest bedroom that had been allotted him. His room at the pub, albeit clean and comfortable was tiny for a guy his size.
‘Stay the night, Rory,’ Clay had insisted. ‘We’ll be having a few drinks over dinner. Anyway it’s too far to drive back into town. Everyone else is staying over until morning. There’s any amount of room. Twelve bedrooms in, although we haven’t got around to furnishing the lot as yet.’
His bedroom had a beautiful dark hardwood floor, partially covered by a stylish modern rug in cream and brown. Teak furnishings with clean Asian lines gave the room its ‘masculine’ feel. The colour scheme was elegant and subdued, the bedspread, the drapery fabric and the cushions on the long sofa of a golden beige Thai silk. It was all very classy. Clay had even lent him a shirt to wear to dinner. Something ‘dressier’ since he’d only been wearing a short-sleeved bush shirt. They were much of a height and build. In fact the shirt fitted perfectly.
Drinks were being served in the refurbished drawing room at seven. It was almost that now. He’d showered and washed his hair using the shampoo in the well-stocked cabinet. Now he gave himself a quick glance in the mirror aware as always of his resemblance to his mother. He had her thick sable hair, her olive skin, though life in the open air had tanned his to bronze. It was her eyes looking back at him; the setting, the colour. They flashed silver against his darkened skin. He had her clean bone structure, the high cheekbones, the jawline, stronger and more definite in him. Hell his face was angular now he came to take a good look. He’d lost a bit of weight stressing over the current situation and being forever on the road. Who would have ever thought it bad luck to closely resemble his beautiful mother? Although their old man had scarcely liked Jay more, when Jay was almost a double for their father at the same age. Jay could never be brutal. Jay
