Stranded With The Secret Billionaire. Marion Lennox
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 told 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.’
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.