too long, Callum stood beside the bed, taking his fill of her special style of beauty. Noticing the way her eyelids were criss-crossed by a fine tracery of delicate blue veins and how very black her long lashes were against her pale cheeks. Heaven help him, he’d spent too many nights imagining her like this—in bed. What a silly damn fool he was.
He crossed to the French doors that opened onto the veranda and stood quietly, leaning against the door jamb, watching the bush grow dark, watching this woman who’d been looking for his brother. Wondering if her fainting spell had been caused by more than the shock of his news and thinking that perhaps a little crying would have been easier to handle after all.
The bush beyond the house grew still and silent. All day the birds had filled the air with their noisy chatter and screeches, but now they’d stopped calling, responding to the approach of night as if obeying an unseen conductor. Very soon the cicadas would tune in.
After some time, Stella’s eyes opened and she rolled onto her side.
‘How are you feeling now?’
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise when she saw him standing in the doorway. Elbow crooked, she propped up her head. ‘I’m OK. Truly. But I can’t believe that Scott—’ Her eyes glistened, but no tears fell. ‘It must have been so awful. Can you tell me what happened?’
He nodded slowly. ‘We were out mustering in the rough country on the far western boundaries of this property. We needed to use the helicopter to chase some stragglers out of a gully and Scott flew in close and somehow the tail rotor clipped a gum tree.’
He didn’t add that it had been his fault Scott had been flying that day. He kept that guilty secret to himself, let it gnaw away at his insides like white ants in a tree stump.
Sighing, he glanced again at the darkening bush beyond the veranda. ‘It all happened very quickly.’
‘So you were with Scott at the time?’
‘No.’ His chest squeezed so tight that for a moment he couldn’t breathe. ‘Scott insisted on going solo and he was having the time of his life. I was on horseback down below.’
He closed his eyes. There was still no way to block out the memory. The terror of the chopper going down. The crazy, lurching fall. The horrifying, screeching sound of ripping metal. The hellish moment of finding Scott, blood-soaked and slumped in the pilot’s seat, staring back at him with blank, sightless eyes.
Hell! Each day it seemed to become more vivid.
‘Why didn’t you contact me, Callum?’
The challenge in her voice piqued his pride, spurring sudden anger. ‘I wasn’t my brother’s keeper. I didn’t keep tabs on his women. How was I to know you were still in the picture? I thought he’d taken up with some girl in Brisbane.’
She swung her gaze away and bit down hard on her lip and Callum wished he’d been less brutal. ‘I would have let you know, but I didn’t…’ Didn’t want to be reminded that you’d chosen Scott over me… His Adam’s apple felt the size of a rock melon. ‘It’s a damn shame you had to come all this way—without knowing.’
Closing her eyes, she smiled wryly as she gave a faint shake of her head. ‘It’s a damn shame all right.’ Her smoky deep voice resonated with bitter self-mockery.
Again he asked, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like a dill-brain.’
‘I was referring to your stomach. Has it settled? I’ll make a cup of tea, or perhaps you can manage a bite to eat?’
She pushed herself into a sitting position. ‘I suppose I should try to eat.’
‘I’ll get dinner, then. I’m afraid it’s only leftover stew.’
‘Anything will be fine, thanks. I’m not really hungry.’
Callum left the room and Stella lay there, watching his broad, straight back. She tried not to think. Tried not to worry. Not to panic!
She was alone now. Totally alone. There was no one to turn to. Her bright dreams were dead. There would be no trip to London. No father for her baby. She couldn’t dream of asking Callum to help. Her last hope had died with Scott.
Oh, God! Poor Scott! She shouldn’t be feeling sorry for herself. He hadn’t deserved to die. He’d been too young, too healthy, too brimming with energy and love of life.
How could Scott be dead?
Her mother had died when she was fifteen and her death had never seemed real. This was even harder to believe.
And poor Callum. How terrible for him to see his brother die in such a terrible accident. And how hard to carry on alone out here without him!
She pressed a hand to her slightly rounded stomach. Her poor little baby, already fatherless before it drew breath. That was the worst of all.
Just like her mother, she was producing a child who would never know its father. Although, unlike her mother, Stella was quite clear about her baby’s paternity.
Her mother had never been sure. ‘It was one of the lecturers at uni.,’ she’d admitted once, just once, in a mismanaged attempt to be close to Stella. ‘One of the nutty professors—but I don’t know which.’
By contrast, there was only one man who could be the father of Stella’s baby’s. The fact that he was dead was too much to take in. Her insides shook with fear. Fear for herself, for the baby. Especially for the baby.
Scott was dead.
Where did that leave her? She couldn’t stand being alone any longer. All her childhood, she’d felt lonely—handed from one adult to another. Life had always been hard.
As an adult, she’d found it easiest to bury herself in study. When she’d discovered science, she’d found the laws of physics to be true and unchanging. They never let her down. Which was more than she could say for the people in her life.
And she’d really wanted the job in London! It would have allowed her to apply her scientific knowledge to a fascinating project. She’d been so excited. But the television network wouldn’t want a woman with a tiny baby. She’d really needed Scott’s help.
With a shaky sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The dizziness seemed to have passed. So far so good.
She made her way back through the house to the kitchen, knowing the only thing that would hold her together now was habit. Old habits died hard and she’d learned as a child that it was best not to let others see how worried she was about all the mess in her life.
In the kitchen, Callum had everything ready. With rough movements, he placed a plate of food in front of her. ‘My version of outback hospitality.’
The meal smelt surprisingly good. Rich beef and vegetables. ‘Mmm. Good wholesome country fare.’
‘Just like mother used to make?’ he asked as he took his seat and pushed a knife and fork across the table towards her.
Stella rolled her eyes. ‘Not
