‘I hope you have some warm clothes with you?’
‘Of course I have,’ she returned crisply. ‘But you don’t need to entertain me, you know. Tomorrow I’ll see about hiring a car so I can visit some of the gardens in the guidebook you found for me.’
He gave her a narrow glance. ‘Have you ever driven on the left?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said absently, trying not to look down the hill. Although the track was well-maintained, the ground fell away sharply on her side without any barrier and she refused to let him see how nervous she was. Heights intimidated her.
But he must have sensed it because he slowed the Land Rover down. ‘When? And how much?’
Warmed by his unspoken consideration, she said, ‘I used to visit Doran at his school in England. Also, when our nanny was ill I drove down to Somerset quite frequently to visit her.’
And on other occasions when she’d been checking out gardens and interviewing their owners.
He said, ‘So you’re experienced on both sides of the road.’
‘And I’m a careful driver.’ Scrupulously, she added, ‘I did once set off from an intersection and head straight towards the wrong side. I was lucky—there was no other traffic, but it scared me and I’ve been supercautious ever since.’
‘If there had been other traffic you’d probably have kept to the left,’Alex said. He glanced at her. ‘You don’t need to hire a car; I’ll drive you around.’
‘I can’t ask you to do that,’ she protested, hiding her quick flare of pleasure.
‘You didn’t,’ he said, reacting instantly when a bird sunning itself in the gravel flew up suddenly in front of the Land Rover.
Serina’s sharp intake of breath wasn’t necessary. Without stamping on the brake, Alex slowed the vehicle but held it to the line.
‘Never try to avoid a bird or an animal,’ he said calmly. ‘Probably more people have been killed taking abrupt evasive action than actually hitting something. Always stay on the road, and on your side if it’s a public road.’
‘Surely it’s human instinct to try not to hurt anything?’ she protested, feeling her tense muscles relax.
‘Control it. You’re good at control.’
Serina flushed. Except when he touched her…
He added, ‘Unless you’re faced with hitting another person and, even then, you need to weigh the consequences.’
Soberly, she said, ‘I hope I never have to.’ She returned to the original subject. ‘But you don’t need to drive me—you must have plenty of things to do without that. I’ll buy a good map and I’m capable of finding my way around.’
‘I can spare the time.’
When she began to object again, he said, ‘Serina, I know lots more people—and gardens—than whoever wrote that guidebook, and most of them aren’t open to the public.’
Serina was torn. She had to make this visit worthwhile, which meant seeing as many gardens as she could fit in. The more material she gathered, the better.
For worthwhile read profitable, she thought as the track they were on joined another wider and more travelled one.
But the real reason for her reluctance to have Alex for a chauffeur was the intensity of her response to him.
Thoughtfully, she said, ‘There are occasions when you sound like my father in his most aristocratic mood.’
His tone matching hers, he responded, ‘I do not feel in the least like your father.’After a taut few seconds he added dryly, ‘Or your brother.’
She glanced sideways, her heart thumping erratically as she took in his autocratic profile. He might not work on the station, but his hands on the wheel were strong and competent. Some wicked part of her mind flashed up an image of them stroking slowly across her pale skin. Heat flamed deep within her, and she had to stare stonily ahead and concentrate on a flock of sheep in the field.
‘One of them is cast,’ Alex said, and brought the Land Rover to a stop.
Serina opened her door and scrambled down too, eyes on the sheep lying in the grass, its legs sticking out pathetically. ‘What’s the matter with it?’ she asked as Alex swung lithely over the wire fence.
He set off towards the animal. ‘It’s heavy with wool and couldn’t get up, and now its balance has gone. It will die if it’s left like that. Stay there—I can deal with it.’
But Serina climbed the fence too, making sure she kept close to the post as he had done. The wires hurt her hands a little; she rubbed them down her jeans as she joined him. The rest of the flock scattered at their approach, but they stopped a safe distance away and turned to eye the two intruders curiously as Alex strode over to the struggling sheep.
It didn’t seem likely that he’d need help but, just in case, Serina followed him across the short grass.
The sheep registered its dislike of being approached by bleating weakly and struggling. Serina watched as Alex bent and, without seeming to exert much effort, turned the animal so that it stood. It panted and hung its head, but seemed stable enough until he stepped back.
‘Damn,’ he muttered as it staggered. He grabbed it and held it steady.
Serina said, ‘If we both hold it for a while until it gets its balance, would that help?’
‘Probably, but you’d get dirty.’ His voice held a sardonic note.
‘So?’Irritated, she positioned herself beside the panting animal and pressed her knee against it. Greasy wool, warm from the winter sun, clung to the denim of her jeans.
‘It smells,’ he said, adding, ‘and the wool will leave unfiltered, dirty lanolin on your hands and clothes. Those extremely well-cut jeans may never be the same again.’
‘I’ve smelt a lot worse than this,’ she said, meeting his eyes.
‘In that case, thanks for helping,’ he said coolly. ‘They’re due to be shorn today, so if we can get it steady it will be all right.’
It was oddly intimate, standing there with the animal panting between them. Serina concealed a wry smile, wondering how many of the women who’d stayed at that beautiful homestead had got this close to a sheep.
And what would his business rivals and allies think if they could see him now? Clad in a plaid shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal strongly muscular arms, and a pair of trousers in some hard-wearing fabric that showed off narrow hips and strongly muscled thighs, he stood with booted feet braced, taller than her by some inches.
Accustomed to looking most men in the eyes, Serina felt overshadowed, yet oddly protected.
The silence was weighted too heavily with awareness, and she found herself saying, ‘I somehow got the impression that most farmers in New Zealand travel with packs of eager dogs.’
‘Usually
