thought back to the instructions he’d left at head office. Feelers had been put out already. There were circuses—one in particular—hovering, wanting to cherry pick the best of this little outfit. Their bookings. The best of their performers.
The circus was in receivership, like it or not, and instructions were to sell.
‘If you wanted you could stay on in the circus,’ he said tentatively. ‘There are bigger commercially viable outfits that would be very willing to take you on. Your acts are wonderful.’
‘But just me,’ she said softly and hugged her dog closer. ‘By myself. How lonely would that be? As I said, we’re family. We’ll stay together. I’m not sure about the elephants, though.’
‘Let me help,’ he said, and he hadn’t known he was going to say it until he did. ‘Maybe I can take on the retired elephant fund.’
She rolled over then and looked at him—really looked at him. It seemed weirdly intimate. Girl lying on pillows, the sinking sun on her face, her dog snuggled against her. Her banker sitting above her, offering … finance?
‘Why would you do that?’
‘I like elephants?’
She smiled then, almost a chuckle, but her smile faded.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Um … not. Years ago my grandfather asked a favour of Bond’s Bank and it put us into all sorts of bother. I think it’s time for the … bonds … to be cut.’
‘And the elephants?’
‘I’ve already started contacting welfare groups. I’ll find somewhere.’
‘Not as good as where they are now.’
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘But that goes for all of us.’ She sighed, snuggled even further into the pillows and closed her eyes. ‘Nowhere’s as good as where I am right this minute,’ she said softly. ‘Nowhere at all, so if you don’t mind, I might just go to sleep and enjoy it.’
She slept.
He watched over her.
It was a curious sensation, sitting on the grassy verge above a deserted beach, watching the sandpipers scuttle to collect the detritus of an outgoing tide—and watching a lady sleep.
He felt absurdly protective. More, he felt … emotional. As if he’d do anything to protect her.
In days of old, when knights were bold …
There was a romantic notion, he told himself, and the thought of himself as knight on white charger almost made him smile.
But not quite, for the notion wouldn’t go away. Something in this woman stirred him as he’d never been stirred.
It was because she was needy, he told himself. She needed protection.
But was she needy? She was a feisty, courageous, multi-talented circus performer and accountant, and she’d just knocked back his offer to help.
He was her banker.
He didn’t want to be her banker.
Where were his thoughts taking him? Were they turning him into Matt?
Exposing him?
What if …? he thought. What if …?
She looked so vulnerable. She was so vulnerable. He could pick her up, he thought, and take her back to Sydney and keep her safe.
Yeah, that was white charger territory again, he thought ruefully. Romantic stuff. He had a very large apartment looking over the harbour. Even so, it’d hardly house Gran and Grandpa and Fizz and Fluffy and Tinkerbelle and Fairy and three ruddy great camels …
He did grin then, thinking of the concierge of his apartment block. Thinking of camels.
Then he glanced down at Allie again and he stopped thinking of concierge or camels.
What he wanted, he decided, more than anything else in the world, was to sink onto the pillows, gather her into his arms and hold her.
But even in sleep he could see her fierce independence. It was engendered by her background, he thought. He knew enough of the back story of this circus now to have a good idea of its dynamics.
Yes, the circus had raised her, but it hadn’t been long before Allie had more or less taken over. Everyone his people had talked to when researching the circus had referred to Allie. ‘Allie only hires the best. Allie keeps the best animal quarters. Allie’s safety standards are second to none.’
This circus … Allie’s family … Allie’s life.
It wasn’t possible to keep it going. He’d looked long and hard at the figures. Even without that appalling pension fund for retired animals, the performers were ageing, the superstructure needed major refurbishment and the whole organisation was winding down.
But she’d fight for what she had left, he thought. He could see her on this farmlet she dreamed of but it wasn’t a dream he was seeing. It was a nightmare. One girl working her heart out to provide for the remnants of a finished circus.
That was why he was feeling protective?
That was why he was feeling cracks in his armour?
He needed to get a grip. He was her banker, nothing else.
Except for the next two weeks he was her ringmaster.
‘Yes, but that’s all,’ he said aloud and Allie stirred in her sleep and he felt … he felt …
As if he needed to head along the beach and walk, or maybe run. He needed to get rid of this energy, get rid of this weird jumble of heart versus head.
The dogs looked up at him, questioning.
‘You guys stay here,’ he told them. ‘I’m not going far. You’re in protection mode.’
They snuggled down again as if they agreed.
He walked but not out of sight. His jumble of thoughts refused to untangle.
He was in protection mode as well, whether Allie wanted it or not.
Whether he wanted it or not.
‘Matt,’ he said out loud and the sound of the name he hadn’t used for years startled him. ‘Matt.’
Put the armour back on, he told himself harshly. Turn yourself back into Mathew.
The problem was … what?
He glanced up the beach, to the sleeping woman with her huddle of protective dogs and he thought …
He thought the problem was that he didn’t know how to turn back into what he’d been. Mathew seemed to be crumbling.
He’d get himself back together, he
