To the left, a man was standing alone
He was staring at her with single-minded concentration. It wasnât simple curiosity in his gaze, and the quality of it locked her in place. For a weird moment she thought she was falling over the balustrade right into his arms.
Even now his eyes didnât let go. In fact, the connection grew stronger. They might have been illicit lovers or sworn enemies, so strong was the focus each had on the other. A shiver passed through her; it was as though no man had ever looked at her before. She wanted to move away, but the hypnotic nature of his gaze blocked her every attempt.
Was he sizing her up and finding her wanting? Why should that be? She felt dizzy, as though not enough oxygen was getting to her brain. It was clear she had to do something to break the deadlock.
She closed her eyes tightly. When she opened them again, the man was gone. She was shocked by the impact a stranger had had on her, especially when neither had spoken a word. Who was he? She didnât know him and had no desire to. Her intuition told her he would be dangerous.
Dear Reader,
The Horseman completes my four-book series entitled MEN OF THE OUTBACK. I do hope youâve kept with me so far, as the stories are linked not only in their setting, the Northern Territory, the remotest and wildest part of the continent, but also by the lives of the interlinked families who call this fascinating place home. If youâre one of my longtime readers youâll know âfamilyâ is a recurring theme in my books. (And if youâre not, a big welcome to you!)
I like to portray family with the petals and the thorns. Families anywhere in the world donât differ all that widely. They have secrets, running feuds and personal histories that often contain more than a grain of fiction. As I have frequently written, the sort of family you grow up in affects you throughout your life, sometimes to the very end. The strong and resilient will break free; others are doomed to carry the conflict forward into succeeding generations. Iâm sure many of you can name a familyâperhaps even from your own streetâthat runs the risk of being called dysfunctional. But I like to bring balance to such families by writing of hopes and dreams, and to introduce heroes and heroines who focus their energies on making a bright future for themselves and those they love.
My warmest wishes to you all. Happy reading!
Margaret Way
Margaret Way was born and bred in the river city of Brisbane, Australia. Said to be able to read at three, she hasnât had her head out of a book since. When she wasnât reading she was playing the piano. She turned to writing when she was unable to practice while her infant son slept. She sold that first bookâwhich she wrote longhandâand has gone on to publish over eighty books with Harlequin.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Moreland Mansion
Darwin Northern Territory Australia
CECILE MORELAND sat in front of her dressing table making final adjustments to her bridesmaidâs headdress, a garland of silk flowers and foliage scattered with sparkling crystals. Excitement, like a swarm of butterflies, fluttered in her stomach. She wondered how much more excited Sandra was for this was Sandraâs day of days, the day she and Daniel were to be married.
The weather was perfect. No bride could have asked for more. Cobalt skies of perfect clarity, a light cooling breeze off the harbor, the mansionâs extensive gardens coaxed to perfection, ablaze with flower beds that dripped gorgeous blossoms. Brilliantly colored parrots, chittering and chattering as if they, too, were caught up in the excitement, flashed through the great shade trees that formed a canopy over the long drive, from the massive wrought-iron gates at the entrance up to the house. Everywhere smelled of flowers and cut grass. It was absolutely intoxicating.
Cecile swallowed a rush of emotion she couldnât afford to indulge; she was all made up and just about ready to join Sandra and the other bridesmaids, but she was still experiencing an overwhelming sense of gratitude and amazement. Daniel, who had grown to manhood with his origins uncertain, had been discovered to be a Moreland; in fact, her first cousin. It was especially hard to believe, because it was less than a year since she had become aware of his existence, let alone that he was part of her family.
They shared a grandfather, Joel Moreland, known throughout the Territory as the Man with the Midas Touch. Daniel, it turned out, was the son of her uncle Jared, who had been killed as a young man in a freak accident at the Alice Springs annual rodeo when Daniel was still in his motherâs womb. Whether Jared had been aware of the pregnancy no one would ever know, but the consensus of opinion was, Jared would never have let the mother of his child disappear from his life; it was alien to his nature. Now, Daniel and Sandraâs meeting was a wonderful example of synchronicity, the connections that govern human life. Cecile felt moved by that thought. If ever two people deserved to be happy, it was those two.