The Cattle King's Mistress. Emma DarcyЧитать онлайн книгу.
and was so impressed with it, he copied the design and had all the materials shipped to Wyndham.”
Cost no object, Miranda thought, recalling from the book she’d read that the first pioneering King brothers had mined a fortune in gold at Kalgoorlie before taking up this land.
“It’s very impressive,” she murmured, thinking houses simply weren’t built to such huge proportions any more. Certainly not in suburbia, she amended, smiling ruefully at her limited knowledge.
“It used to serve many purposes in the old days,” Tommy cheerfully explained. “Everyone lived in and travellers passing through stopped by for days to rest up. Hospitality has always been big in the outback.”
“I guess it broke the sense of isolation,” Miranda remarked.
“Well, taking to the air fixes that now,” he answered, his handsome face beaming pleasure in the accessibility he provided.
She’d learnt he owned and ran an airline company from Kununurra, small plane and helicopter charters making up the bulk of his business, much of which was connected to the resort. Tommy King was a go-getter entrepreneur, with the confidence, likeable personality and gift of the gab that could sell anything. Most of all himself.
Miranda wasn’t about to buy. The charm came too easily, and while he might be a shrewd businessman and definitely no lightweight for a man only in his early thirties, he had playboy looks; a riot of black curly hair that bobbed endearingly over his forehead, dark dancing eyes inviting flirtatious fun, a face as handsome as sin, and a lean, athletic body exuding charismatic energy and sex appeal.
She’d been in his company since he’d collected her from Kununurra airport this morning and as an informative guide he was excellent, but she was determined on keeping a very firm personal distance between them. The likes of Tommy King could not tempt her into mixing business with pleasure. She hoped he was getting that message because she certainly didn’t want an awkward situation developing between them.
“This place is getting to be like a white elephant now,” he commented as he brought the Jeep to a halt. “Wasted…” He shook his head over the wicked shame of it. “Guests would probably give their eye-teeth to stay here, but Nathan just won’t hear of it.” He grimaced, though his dark eyes twinkled cheerfully at her as he added, “Like a brick wall, my brother.”
Nathan…oldest son of Elizabeth and Lachlan. Just as well she had studied the family tree in the book on King’s Eden. The people she’d met so far assumed she knew these details about the Kings as well as they did.
“It’s understandable that he prefers privacy for his family,” Miranda said, thinking some things came ahead of turning everything into dollars.
“If he ever got himself married and had a family, I’d agree,” Tommy shot back at her. “As it is, he’s here by himself most of the time, and that doesn’t look like changing.”
He alighted from the Jeep, quickly striding around it to open Miranda’s door for her. She had little time to digest this new information. The invitation to dine with the family at the old homestead tonight had seemed to encompass more than the actual reality of one man. Two, counting Tommy.
“I thought Mrs King lived here, too,” she said as she stepped out of the Jeep.
“Not on any regular basis. Mum’s fairly tied up in Broome, managing the pearl farm…”
Pearls…
He grinned. “…but she flew in yesterday to be on hand to greet you and make sure everything is to your satisfaction.”
Her inner tension eased. She wouldn’t be the only woman at the dinner table. Elizabeth King would undoubtedly direct the conversation tonight and provide a comfort zone. Miranda smiled. “How kind of her!”
Tommy laughed. “Mum is a diplomat from way back.”
They proceeded up the steps, Miranda wondering just how different the two brothers were and how much their mother had to work at welding their separate interests into a reasonably harmonious unit. “Isn’t there a third son?” she asked tentatively, her mind seeing three names listed in print—Nathan, Thomas, Jared.
But the book on King’s Eden had been written some years ago. She had assumed marriages would have taken place since then. Having been wrong on that score with Tommy and Nathan, and with no mention being made of a younger brother from Tommy, she wondered if something had happened to the third son.
“Oh, Jared flits around the mining operations and oversees what’s done with the pearls. He’s hardly ever here,” came the offhand reply. “You’ll probably meet him some time or other but not tonight. I think he’s in Hong Kong at the moment.”
Mining operations…
Miranda did a very quick mental readjustment about the King family. What she was meeting here was very serious wealth, on a similar scale, if not higher, than the Hewson family. All three of the King brothers would be used to getting what they wanted, just as Bobby was. When they married, it would undoubtedly be into a family who had connections to their business interests and could probably broaden and enhance them. That was the way their kind of world worked.
She was an outsider, an employee who had her uses. Miranda resolved to keep those uses strictly defined. No blurred lines. However attractive any of the King men were, they were out of bounds in any personal sense.
She would never allow herself to be flattered by Tommy’s show of interest. If Nathan had a brick wall around him, it could stay totally intact, as far as she was concerned. Jared was more or less out of the picture so she didn’t have the problem of proximity with him.
Best to concentrate completely on Elizabeth King tonight.
With this decision firmly settled in her mind, Miranda’s attention turned to observing features of the house she was entering. Leadlight windows surrounded the solid cedar door Tommy opened for her. As she stepped into the main entrance hall, she realised it ran right through to the back of the house and actually formed a gallery of framed photographs. A collection of King’s Eden history, she wondered, but didn’t have the opportunity to look.
Tommy walked straight to the first door off the hallway and ushered her into a sitting room so full of riches, she was momentarily dazed by all there was to see. Much of the decor had an Asian influence, yet there seemed be an eclectic range of styles that somehow melded together into a fascinating collection.
Her skating gaze was halted—joltingly—by the man rising from a large leather armchair, a man whose length seemed to climb up like a mountain, blocking everything else out. He had to be well over six foot, broad-shouldered, broad-chested, one of the biggest men Miranda had ever met, and all of him emitting hard muscular strength that gave way to nothing.
Unaccountably a convulsive little shiver ran down her spine. His sheer physical presence had an impact that seemed to hit her whole nervous system, leaving her with an odd tremulous feeling that was deeply disturbing. He wasn’t threatening her. He stood out of courtesy. She had no cause to feel…vulnerable.
With a sense of self-determination, Miranda made eye contact with him and plastered a polite little smile on her face. His face could have been carved out of brown granite—all hard, sharp planes. Even the curves of his mouth seemed carved, defined emphatically, as though to deny any softness. Absolutely nothing “pretty-playboy” about Nathan King.
His thick black hair was straight. His black brows were straight. And cutting straight across the room at her were laser-sharp blue eyes, the vivid intensity of their colour made all the more stunning by his darkly tanned skin. Miranda felt utterly pinned by them, unable to break their captivating power…until Elizabeth King spoke.
“Welcome to King’s Eden…”
Miranda jerked her head towards the distinctive, familiar voice. The woman who had hired her sat on an ornately carved armchair, its rich scarlet and gold silk upholstery forming a striking frame for her white hair and white pantsuit. And the