Stranded with the Secret Billionaire Page 2

  ‘I should push,’ she offered.

  The lips twitched again. ‘I’m thinking I might just have a bit more muscle. Could you hop in and switch on the ignition? When I tell you to accelerate, go for it. Straight forward, and as soon as you feel the car get a grip, keep going.’

  She thought about it for a moment and saw a problem. A big one. ‘Um...’

  He paused. ‘Um?’

  ‘Are there any more creeks?’ she asked, her voice filled with trepidation.

  ‘Any more creeks where?’

  ‘Between here and Malley’s Corner.’

  ‘You’re headed for Malley’s Corner?’

  ‘Yes.’ She tilted her chin at the note of incredulity in his voice. It was the same incredulity she’d heard from every one of her family and friends.

  He paused for a moment. The water level rose an inch.

  ‘We’ll talk about it later,’ he said curtly. ‘We have minutes to get your car clear before she’s properly swamped. Get in and turn it on.’

  ‘But are there more creeks?’

  ‘A dozen or so.’

  ‘Then I can’t get to Malley’s Corner,’ she wailed. ‘I need to go back the way I came. Can you push me back to the other side?’

  ‘You want to do a U-turn in the middle of the creek?’

  ‘No, but I don’t want to be trapped.’

  ‘I have news for you, lady,’ he told her. ‘You’re already trapped. The only hope we have of getting your car out of this water is to go straight forward and do it now. Get in your car and I’ll push or it’ll be washed away. Move!’

  She gave a yelp of fright—and moved.

  * * *

  She was in such a mess.

  Actually, if she was honest, she wasn’t in a mess at all. She was perfectly dry. Her little car was on dry land, still drivable. Samson had jumped back up into the passenger seat and was looking around for his cushions. It looked as if she could drive happily away. There were more creeks but for now she was safe.

  But she had a cowboy to thank, the guy who’d saved her car—and he was the mess.

  Though actually... She should be able to describe him as a mess, she thought. He’d shoved the cushions under her back wheels to get traction and then, as she’d touched the accelerator, he’d put his hands under the back of her car and pushed.

  She’d felt the strength of him, the sheer muscle. With the acceleration behind him he’d practically heaved the little car free.

  She’d stopped and looked back, and her cowboy—her rescuer—was sprawled full length in the water.

  When he stood up he almost looked scary. He was seriously big, he was soaked and he was spitting sand. He did not look happy.

  When he reached the bank she backed off a little.

  ‘Th...thank you,’ she ventured. ‘That was very good of you.’

  ‘My pleasure, ma’am,’ he said with obvious sarcasm and she winced.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘All in a day’s work. I’ve heaved stock from bogs before this. Your car’s not much bigger than a decent bull.’ He wiped away some sand and she had a clearer view of his face. He had deep brown eyes set in a strongly boned face. Strength and capability and toughness was written on every inch of him. This wasn’t the sort of guy she ever met in her city life.

  ‘Do you live round here?’ she managed and he nodded.

  ‘Over the rise.’

  ‘Then...I guess that means at least you can go home and have a shower. Look, I really am sorry...’

  ‘So what will you do?’

  ‘Go on until I reach the next creek,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Samson and I can sleep in the car if the water doesn’t go down before nightfall. We’ll go on tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow...’

  ‘I start work on Tuesday. I guess it’s just lucky I left myself a day’s leeway.’

  Something seemed to be happening on her rescuer’s face. There was a tic right next to his jaw. It was sort of...twitching.

  Laughter? No. Exasperation?

  Maybe.

  ‘You’d better follow me,’ he said at last and she blinked.

  ‘Why? I’m sorry; that doesn’t sound gracious but you’ve done enough. Samson and I will be fine.’

  ‘For a fortnight?’

  ‘A fortnight?’

  ‘That’s how long they’re saying before the floodwaters subside.’ He sighed. ‘There’s been rain all over central New South Wales. It’s been dry here, which is why you’ve been lulled into thinking it’s safe to drive, but it’s been raining up north like it hasn’t for years. The water’s pouring into the Murray catchment and all that water’s making its way downstream. Creeks that haven’t seen water for years are starting to fill. If you’d followed the main road you might have made it...’

  ‘The satnav lady said this way was much shorter,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Then the satnav lady’s a moron,’ he said bluntly. ‘There’s no way you’ll get this little car through to Malley’s Corner and there’s no way you can get back. You’re stuck right here and you’re stuck for a while.’

  She stood and stared at him and he gazed right back. He was looking at her as if she were some sort of strange species.

  An idiot.

  All her careful plans. All her defiance...

  This was just what her father expected—Penelope being stupid once again.

  She thought of the last appalling tabloid article she’d read before she’d packed and left—her father explaining to the media why the man who’d intended to marry Penny was now marrying Penny’s older half-sister, the gorgeous, clever, talented Felicity.

  ‘They’re a much more suitable match,’ George had told the journalist. ‘Brett is one in a million. He’s an employee who’s going places and he needs a woman of class to support that. My younger daughter means well, but she’s much more interested in her cakes than in taking care of her man. I’m not sure why we all didn’t see this was a more sensible match to begin with.’

  Sensible. Right.

  She shook herself, shoving painful memories harshly behind her. No, she wouldn’t be calling her father for help.

  ‘Is there somewhere I can stay?’ she asked in a small voice.

  ‘You’re on my land,’ he told her. ‘From here until the next two creek crossings there’s nowhere but Jindalee.’

  ‘Jindalee?’

  ‘My home.’

  ‘Oh.’

  She looked at his horse and her mind was twisting so much she even thought of offering to buy the thing and ride off into the sunset. Fording rivers on horseback with Samson riding up front.

  Um...not. Even if she could ride a horse. Even if she was game to go near it.

  ‘Do you...do you have a four-wheel drive?’ she asked. ‘Is it possible that a truck or something could get through?’

  ‘It might,’ he said grudgingly.

  She’d been trying to figure a way out, but she thought she saw one. ‘Could you take me on to Malley’s? If you have a truck that can get through we could make it. I could leave my car here and get someone to bring me back to collect it when the water goes down.’

  And this is my last chance, she thought desperately, looking into his impassive face. Please.

  He gazed at her and she forced herself to meet his gaze calmly, as if her request was totally reasonable—as if asking him to drive for at least four hours over flooded creeks was as minor as hiring a cab.

  ‘I can pay,’ she added. ‘I mean...I can pay well. Like a good day’s wages...’

  ‘You have no idea,’ he said and then there was even more silence. Was he considering it?

  But finally he shook his head.

  ‘It’s impossible,’ he tol
d her. ‘I can’t leave the property. I have a team ready to start shearing at dawn and two thousand sheep to be shorn. Nothing’s messing with that.’

  ‘You could...maybe come back tonight?’

  ‘In your dreams. The water’s coming up. I could end up trapped at Malley’s Corner with you. I can’t risk sending a couple of my men because I need everyone. So I don’t seem to have a choice and neither do you.’ He sighed. ‘We might as well make the best of it. I’m inviting you home. You and your dog. As long as you don’t get in the way of my shearing team, you’re welcome to stay at Jindalee for as long as the floodwater takes to recede.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  PENNY DROVE, SLOWLY and carefully, along the rutted track. He followed behind on his horse, his dogs trotting beside him, and she was aware of him every inch of the way.

  He could be an axe murderer. He was sodden and filthy. His jet-black hair was still dripping and his dark face looked grim.

  He’d laughed when he first saw her but now he looked as if he’d just been handed a problem and he didn’t like it.

  She didn’t even know his name.

  He didn’t know hers, she reminded herself. He was opening his house to her, and all he knew about her was that she was dumb enough to get herself stranded in the middle of nowhere. She could be the axe murderer.

  She had knives. She thought fleetingly of her precious set, wrapped carefully in one of her crates. They were always super sharp.

  What sort of knives did axe murderers use?

  ‘They use axes, idiot,’ she said aloud and that was a mistake. The guy on the horse swivelled and stared.

  ‘Axes?’ he said cautiously, and she thought, He’ll be thinking he has a real fruitcake here.

  That was what she felt like. A fruitcake.

  ‘Sorry. Um...just thinking of what I’d need if... I mean, if I was stuck camping and needed something like wood to light a fire. I’d need an axe.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, still more cautiously. ‘But you don’t have one?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You seem to have everything else.’

  ‘I’m going to Malley’s to work. I need stuff.’

  ‘You’re working at Malley’s?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘That place is a dump.’

  ‘The owner has plans,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘I’m employed to help.’

  ‘It could use a bit of interior decorating,’ he agreed. ‘From the ground up.’ His lips suddenly twitched again. ‘And you always carry a teapot?’

  ‘They might only use tea bags.’

  ‘You don’t like tea bags?’

  ‘I drink lapsang souchong and it doesn’t work in tea bags. I love its smoky flavour. Don’t you?’

  ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ he asked and suddenly he grinned. ‘I’m Matt,’ he told her. ‘Matt Fraser. I’m the owner of Jindalee but I hope you brought your own lapsang souchong with you. Sadly I seem to be short on essentials.’

  ‘I have a year’s supply,’ she told him and his grin widened.

  ‘Of course you do. And you are?’

  ‘Penelope Hindmarsh-Firth.’ He was laughing at her but she could take it, she decided. She should be used to people laughing at her by now. ‘And I’m the owner of one pink car and one white poodle.’

  ‘And a teapot,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Thank you. Yes.’ She concentrated on negotiating an extra deep rut in the road.

  ‘Penelope...’ Matt said as the road levelled again.

  ‘Penny.’

  ‘Penny,’ he repeated. ‘Did you say Hindmarsh-Firth?’

  And her heart sank. He knows, she thought, but there was no sense denying it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of the Hindmarsh-Firth Corporation?’

  ‘I don’t work for them.’ Not any more. She said it almost defiantly.

  ‘But you’re connected.’

  ‘I might be.’

  ‘The way I heard it,’ he said slowly, seemingly thinking as he spoke, ‘is that George Hindmarsh, up-and-coming investment banker, married Louise Firth, only daughter of a mining magnate worth billions. Hindmarsh-Firth is now a financial empire that has tentacles worldwide. You’re part of that Hindmarsh-Firth family?’

  ‘They could be my parents,’ she muttered. ‘But I’m still not part of it.’

  ‘I see.’

  He didn’t, she thought. He couldn’t. He’d have no idea of what it was like growing up in that goldfish bowl, with her father’s ego. He’d have no idea why she’d finally had to run.

  ‘So if I rang up the newspapers now and said I’ve just pulled a woman called Penelope Hindmarsh-Firth out of a creek, they wouldn’t be interested?’

  No! ‘Please don’t,’ she whispered and then repeated it, louder, so she was sure he could hear. She was suddenly very close to tears.

  ‘I won’t,’ he told her, his voice suddenly softening. ‘Believe me, I have no wish for media choppers to be circling. Though...’

  ‘Though what?’

  ‘There’s someone I need to get here,’ he told her. ‘It’d almost be worth it—I could tell them they could find you here as long as they brought Pete with them.’

  ‘Pete?’

  She hit a bump. The car jolted and the teapot bounced and clanged against the pots underneath it.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said roughly. ‘I won’t do it. I can understand your situation might well cause humiliation. I assume you’re heading to Malley’s to get out of the spotlight?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said and could have wept with gratitude.

  ‘Then you’ve come to the right place,’ he told her. ‘And this is a lot cleaner than Malley’s. Jindalee has plenty of spare bedrooms, though most are in desperate need of a good dust. As long as you and Samson keep out of my way, you’re welcome to hunker down for as long as the flood lasts.’

  And then they topped the last rise before the house and Penny was so astounded she stalled the car.

  The rain clouds up north must have visited here a while back because the pastures were lush and green. The property was vast and undulating. There were low hills rolling away as far as the eye could see. The land was dotted with stands of magnificent gums. She could see the occasional flock of sheep in the distance, white against green.

  But the house... It took her breath away.

  It was a real homestead, built a hundred or more years ago. It sat on a slight rise, huge, long and low, built of whitewashed stone. French windows opened to the vast verandas and soft white curtains fluttered out into the warm afternoon breeze. Grapevines massed under the veranda and massive old settees sat under their shade. An ancient dog lay on the top step by the front door as if he was guarding the garden.

  And what a garden. It looked almost like an oasis in the middle of this vast grazing property. Even from here she could see the work, the care...

  Wisteria hung from massive beamed walkways. She could see rockwork, the same sandstone that lined the creeks, used to merge levels into each other. Bougainvillea, salvia, honeysuckle... Massive trees that looked hundreds of years old. A rock pool with a waterfall that looked almost natural. Roses, roses and more roses.

  And birds. As they approached the house a flock of crimson rosellas rose screeching from the gums, wheeling above their heads as if to get a better look, and then settled again.

  For why wouldn’t they settle? This place looked like paradise.

  ‘Oh, my...’ She slowed to a halt. She needed to stop and take it all in.

  And Matt pulled his horse to a halt as well. He sat watching her.

  ‘This is... Oh...’ She could hardly speak.

  ‘Home,’ Matt said and she could feel the love in his voice. And suddenly every doubt about staying her
e went out of the window.

  He loved this place. He loved this garden and surely no one who loved as much as this could be an axe murderer?

  ‘Who does this?’ she stammered. She’d tried gardening in the past. It had been a thankless task as her parents moved from prestige property to prestige property, but she knew enough to know that such a seemingly casual, natural garden represented more hard work than she could imagine. ‘Your wife?’ she asked. ‘Or...’

  ‘I don’t have a wife,’ he said, suddenly curt, and she thought instinctively that there was a story there. ‘But I do have someone helping me in the garden. Donald loves it as much as I do. He’s in his eighties now but he won’t slow down.’

  ‘Your dad? Grandpa?’

  ‘No.’ Once more his reply was curt and she knew suddenly that she needed to back off. This guy wasn’t into personal interrogation. ‘Donald owned this place before I bought it. He’s stayed on because of the garden.’

  ‘That’s lovely,’ she breathed.

  ‘It is,’ he said and he wasn’t talking of Donald. His eyes skimmed the house, the garden, the country around them and she saw his face soften. ‘There’s nowhere I’d rather be.’

  She gazed around her, at the low lying hills, at the rich pasture, at the massive gum trees, at the sheer age and beauty of the homestead which seemed to nestle into its surroundings as if it had grown there. ‘How much of this do you own?’ she breathed.

  ‘As far as you can see and more.’ It was impossible for him to hide the pride in his voice.

  ‘Oh, wow!’ The property must be vast. She sat and soaked it in, and something in her settled. Who could be fearful or even heartbroken in a place like this?

  Okay, she was still heartbroken but maybe she could put it aside.

  ‘What’s the building over there?’ A low shed built of ancient handmade bricks sat under the gum trees in the distance. It looked so old it practically disappeared into the landscape.

  ‘That’s the shearing shed. The shearers’ quarters are behind that.’

  And suddenly she was diverted from the farm’s beauty.

  ‘There’s a dozen trucks. At least.’

  ‘They belong to the shearing team. We start at dawn. You’ll need to keep out of the way.’