A Wedding At Windaroo. Barbara HannayЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“Well, thanks for your advice, Gabe. I think you’ve covered everything.”
But now he seemed reluctant to drop the subject. His deep voice penetrated the night. “Piper, you’re not afraid of intimacy, are you?”
Without warning, her blood began to pound through her veins, making her ears hum and her heart beat wildly. “I—I don’t think so.” But she couldn’t be sure.
She sensed him moving toward her, and the next moment his fingertips were touching her cheek ever so gently. She heard the rasp of his breathing and felt his thumb travel slowly down her cheek, over her chin and back again. She was amazed how good it felt. Hardly believing her daring, she dipped her head slightly and pressed her lips to his thumb.
Gabe’s husky voice sounded close to her ear. “I think you know a lot more about touching than you’re letting on….”
Barbara Hannay was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical north Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.
You can find out more about Barbara at her Web site, www.barbarahannay.com
Books by Barbara Hannay
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®
3718—THEIR DOORSTEP BABY
3770—A PARISIAN PROPOSITION
3786—A BRIDE AT BIRRALEE
A Wedding at Windaroo
Barbara Hannay
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
THREE weeks past her twelfth birthday, Piper O’Malley spent almost an entire afternoon huddled behind the tractor shed crying. And the stupid thing was she hated crying! Crying was for girls and today she didn’t want to be a girl.
By the time Gabe Rivers found her she’d reduced her sobs to the occasional sniffle, but she knew her eyes were still red and swollen.
‘Hey, cheer up, tree frog,’ he said, crouching beside her and throwing a strong, comforting arm around her skinny shoulders. ‘Nothing’s ever as bad as it seems.’
She swiped her eyes with her shirt-tail. ‘It is today. This is the worst day of my life.’
He looked so surprised she made a hasty amendment. After all, Gabe was eighteen—and like all adults he had a way of knowing when you weren’t telling the exact truth. ‘I suppose the very worst day of my life must have been when Mum and Dad died, but I was too little to remember.’
‘But this is the second worst day?’ he asked. ‘Sounds bad. What’s the problem?’
She burrowed her face against his big shoulder. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s too awful.’
‘Course you can. I’m unshockable.’
Peeping up at him she found his green eyes regarding her so tenderly she felt her heart swell. ‘Periods,’ she whispered.
‘I see,’ he said after a beat. ‘Well…yeah…that’s tough, I guess.’
She half expected Gabe to leap away from her, to tell her that now he’d finished helping her grandfather with branding and ear-tagging calves he needed to hurry home to Edenvale. But he stayed right beside her. They sat for ages with their backs against the corrugated iron wall of the tractor shed, chewing fresh, sweet stalks of grass and watching the daylight soften as the afternoon slipped away.
‘You’ll get used to the idea after a while,’ he told her.
‘I won’t, Gabe. I know I won’t ever. Why do I have to be a girl? I wish I was a boy. I want to be like you.’
He grinned. ‘And what’s so good about being like me?’
‘Everything,’ she cried with the wholehearted sincerity of a true hero-worshipper. ‘You’re bigger and stronger than Grandad, and he never tries to stop you from doing anything. And you can be whatever you want to be. When I grow up I’m going to have to have babies and wash some man’s smelly old socks and underpants.’
Gabe laughed. ‘Wait till you go to boarding school next term. Your teachers will tell you that girls have the same chance to be anything they want to these days.’
‘But I want to be a cattleman. Bet you never heard anyone talk about a cattlewoman, have you?’