Heir To Danger. Valerie Parv
at Diamond Downs on that first visit. Drawn together as the only teenage girls in the party, they’d discovered a mutual passion for rock art. Shara had been fascinated by the ancient sites in Q’aresh, deciding to set up an exchange program between the traditional artists in Australia and her country as soon as she came of age. Judy had become the scheme’s contact in Australia. Judy had been the logical person for Shara to turn to, although getting away from Jamal at the airport hadn’t been easy.
Claiming a need to visit the ladies’ room, Shara had squeezed out through a tiny window into the open air. By the time Jamal became impatient waiting for her, she’d persuaded a taxi driver to take her to a bank where she’d used her credit card to obtain some Australian currency, then paid the driver to take her to Diamond Downs.
Had it only been two days ago? It felt like an eternity. The seat gave as Tom got into the Jeep. She opened her eyes. He was a lot like his foster father, she thought. Not in looks, since they weren’t related by blood. But in his cool decisiveness. Not domineering, but no pushover, either. Qualities she admired in a man. In Tom.
His foster father had reacted as if having a runaway princess land on his doorstep was an everyday event. A room at the homestead was hers for as long as she wanted. Too risky for them if Jamal traced her to the Logans, she’d argued. In the end she’d agreed to stay at the original cottage some distance from the homestead, and accept Des’s offer of the use of an old work car.
In it she’d been checking out escape routes from the cottage, when she and the kangaroo had their fateful disagreement.
She rubbed her aching calf. “Where are we going?”
Tom gunned the engine. “I’d prefer to take you to a doctor, but since you’ve vetoed that idea, and you evidently don’t want to have me arrested, I’m taking you home where there’s a better medical kit on hand. We can send someone to fetch the car later.”
This time the fluttering in her chest was easier to subdue. “What you’ve done feels fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Looking after stray princesses is part of my job.”
She was getting used to hearing her title used as a nickname, feeling as if it eroded some barrier between them. Australians gave nicknames to people they liked, she recalled her grandmother telling her. And she found the idea of Tom liking her oddly appealing. “Do you come across many of us out here?” she asked.
“Not normally at spear point.”
The concerned tone of his voice pulled at her. He really hadn’t wanted her to get hurt, and tried to save her from greater harm. “I was a fool to go into the gorge without knowing the correct protocol,” she said.
“You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“I should have. I’ve studied rock art for long enough to understand that traditional people have their own ways of doing things and their own reasons. The taboo on women entering the area has probably existed for hundreds of thousands of years.”
The look he gave her was thoughtful. “Are you always this forgiving?”
She guessed he was referring to her reluctance to press charges against him. “Only when I know I’m in the wrong.”
“Are you really female under those classy clothes?”
She felt the blush all the way to her toes. “Excuse me?”
He looked equally disconcerted, she saw, when she forced herself to meet his heated gaze, as if he’d blundered into territory where he had no business going.
“I mean, I can see that you’re female.” He pushed his bush hat far back on his head, tousling his dark hair. “A man would have to be blind not to. You’re bloody beautiful. I only meant…hell…how many women do you know who’re willing to admit when they’re wrong?”
The awkward compliment warmed her. So he thought she was beautiful, did he? The clumsy words meant more to her than all of Jamal’s eloquent flattery, and were probably far more sincere. “You obviously haven’t heard the women’s rules,” she murmured, letting him off the hook. “Rule one, the woman is always right. Rule two, if the woman is wrong, refer to rule one.”
He gave a theatrical groan. “Don’t let Judy hear you say that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Judy’s my friend. Perhaps I owe it to her.” Shara was amazed to feel jealousy scraping along her nerves. Was there any romantic interest between him and Des’s daughter? Again she asked herself why she cared.
“She’s okay,” he admitted grudgingly. “When we were kids, she considered it her mission in life to give me as hard a time as possible. Do you have sisters?”
She shook her head. The lack was a source of sorrow to her. “I have one older brother, Sadiq. Our mother died when I was born. We were raised by our grandmother who was born in Australia.” She didn’t add that Noni had crossed swords with their father about almost everything to do with their upbringing. Where his son and heir was concerned, King Awad had won every battle. Not for the first time, Shara wondered if he had done his daughter a favor, letting Noni have her way when it came to raising Shara herself. Would she have found it easier to accept her father’s plans for her if her upbringing had been more conventional?
“Tough break. My mother’s gone, too. I still miss her,” Tom said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Were you very young when she died?”
“Twelve. It should never have happened.” His voice held a rasping quality she had already begun to recognize as emotion, quickly suppressed in the manner of Australian men. She also sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her. It sounded as if his mother had died in an accident. Did he blame himself? This was certainly something she could understand.
“I never knew my mother, but I felt responsible for her death,” she said.
“You didn’t ask to be born. If anyone deserves blame it’s fate, or your father.”
Again she had the uncanny feeling Tom was speaking of his own experience. She didn’t know him well enough to ask, but it didn’t stop her wanting to. “What about brothers?”
“I have three foster brothers. Blake runs the local crocodile farm. Ryan is a jackeroo on a property farther north. We don’t see much of him or Cade, who’s a wildlife photographer for magazines. Judy is the only girl. After she was born, Des and his late wife, Fran, found out they couldn’t have any more children so they became foster parents.”
Shara nodded. “And your real family?”
“They are my real family.”
Taking a hint from his gruff tone, she turned to the scenery jolting past the car window as he steered the heavy vehicle over the corrugated track. Since she wasn’t prepared to open up to him about herself, respecting his privacy was the least she could do.
“Am I keeping you from your work?” she asked.
“I started a couple of weeks’ vacation today. Most days I start work at dawn, before the heat builds up, take a break and catch up on paperwork about now, then finish anything that needs doing when the day cools down.”
“What were you doing out here?”
“Heading to the homestead for dinner with Des and Judy.”
At least she wasn’t dragging him out of his way.
“How long have you been here?” Tom asked.
“Two days. Des said I can stay as long as I like.”
Tom nodded. “He would.”
His gruff tone didn’t disguise his obvious affection for his foster father. “Judy told me he makes a habit of taking in strays,” Shara said.
“Like me and my foster brothers,” he agreed.
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