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 only one or two,’ he told her.
A note in his deep, amused voice sent a thrill of excitement through her. Serina nodded and looked away, trying to concentrate on the sunny day, the sounds of birds she’d never heard before, the earthy smell of the sheep—anything to take her mind off Alex’s nearness.
Nothing worked.
He said, ‘And I’m not a farmer. I’m a businessman. I don’t have a dog because I’m away a lot and dogs—like spouses—need companionship to be happy.’
‘Is that why you haven’t married?’
The moment the words emerged she wished she could unsay them. Tensely, she waited for a well-deserved snub.
But he replied coolly, ‘No. When—if—I marry I’ll organise my life differently. Why are you still obstinately single?’
‘I’ve got plenty of time,’ she said lamely, and risked a glance upwards.
She met crystalline steel-blue eyes that heated instantly. ‘Indeed you have,’ he said lazily. And smiled, the sort of disturbing smile that should have sent her fleeing.
Instead, it further stimulated her rioting senses. This attraction was mutual, and she’d already decided to let things happen, so why wasn’t she flirting with him, letting him know in a subtle way that she was—
Well, what was she?
Ready sounded over-eager and, anyway, she didn’t know that she was ready.
With a pang, she realised she wanted something more solid and lasting than flirtation. She wanted to be wooed.
Like some Victorian maiden with a head stuffed full of unrealistic dreams, she scoffed. It didn’t happen in her world, where people responded to strong attraction by embarking on an affair. Sometimes they married, but once the glamour became tarnished they called everything off, often to repeat the whole process with someone else.
Love was a temporary aberration, and marriage an alliance made for other, infinitely more practical reasons.
Except for rare, fortunate exceptions like Rosie and Gerd, of course. And, although she wished them every good thing in their life together, she couldn’t help wondering how long Rosie’s incandescent joy would last.
She looked up. Alex was watching her, and something about his waiting silence made her heart flip madly so that when she spoke her voice was husky and soft.
‘What is it? Do I have lanolin on my face?’
Colour tinged her skin when he inspected her even more closely, but she held her gaze steady when he drawled, ‘Not a speck on that exquisite skin. I was just admiring the way the sun strikes blue sparks off your hair. But I’ll give you a hat when we get home—the sun can burn even in winter here.’
She swallowed. ‘Thank you.’
‘And it would be a crime to singe that exquisite skin.’ Taking her by surprise, he bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose.
Eyes enormous in her face, Serina held her breath and froze. The sun suddenly seemed brighter, the colours more vivid, the unseen birds more piercingly musical. A wave of heat broke over her.
Until he straightened and said, ‘We’ll see if this old girl can stand up by herself now. Let her go and step slowly away.’
Fighting a fierce, foolish disappointment, Serina obeyed. The ewe lurched, but as Alex moved back she stood more firmly. After a few seconds she dropped her head and, ignoring them, began to crop the grass eagerly.
‘She should be all right,’ Alex said.
Serina didn’t dare speak until they were well away, then she said, ‘What will happen if she falls again?’
‘I’ll