Rich, Ruthless and Secretly Royal. Robyn Donald

hide the pride of ownership as he gazed out at his vast domain.

      At the foot of the hill a sweeping bay fronted a large, almost flat, grassed area with what appeared to be a small settlement to one side. More huge trees fringed the beach and a long jetty stitched its way out into the water towards a sleek black yacht and a large motorboat.

      ‘The working part of Kiwinui,’ Kelt told her. He leaned slightly towards her so he could point. ‘Cattle yards, the woolshed, implement sheds and the workers’ cottages.’

      Hani’s breath stopped in her throat. He was too close, so near she could see the fine grain of his tanned skin, so close her nostrils were teased by a faint, wholly male scent. Hot little shivers snaked down her spine, and some locked, previously untouched part of her splintered into shards.

      Desperate to overcome the clamour of her response, she scrambled from the car and took a couple of steps away. When Kelt joined her she didn’t dare look at him.

      Several measured breaths helped calm her racing heartbeats, and as soon as she could trust her voice she waved a hand at the nearest hill. ‘What’s that mown strip over there?’

      ‘An airstrip. Kiwinui is too big to fertilise except from the air.’ His words held a lick of amusement, as though he had sensed her stormy reaction to him and found it entertaining.

      Mortified and bewildered, Hani wondered if the forced intimacy of their first meeting had somehow forged this—this wild physical reaction.

      Yes, that had to be it. Relief eased her shame; her response was not some weird aberration or a frightening return to the servitude of her affair with Felipe. Kelt had held her closely, given her comfort while she fought the fever—changed her clothes—so naturally her body and mind responded to his presence.

      Well, they could stop it right now. Discipline was what was needed here. She didn’t want to feel like this every time she saw him, completely unable to control herself!

      Trying to block out his presence, she concentrated on the view. To the north a series of ranges scalloped the coast, the lower-slopes pasture, the gullies and heights covered by forests—no, native bush—that reminded her of the jungles of Moraze. Between them she glimpsed a coast of sandy beaches and more green paddocks.

      Stretching to the eastern horizon was the restless sea, its kingfisher-coloured expanse broken by a large, high island that formed an offshore barrier.

      And, to cap it all, she heard the high, exquisite trill of a bird, joy rendered into song that soared into the golden light of the setting sun. Pierced by sudden delight, Hani dragged in a long breath.

      And even as she thrilled to it, she knew that the man beside her somehow intensified her mood, her appreciation, as though his presence had the power to magnify her responses.

      Felipe had never done that.

      Hani swallowed. ‘It’s so beautiful,’ she managed. ‘What’s the bird that’s singing?’

      He gave her a sharp look. ‘It’s a thrush,’ he said. ‘They were introduced here by the early settlers. He’ll be perched on top of one of the pohutukawa trees.’

      Bother, she thought on a surge of irrational panic, oh, bother and double-bother! Too late she remembered a poem she’d learned at school; if she were as English as her accent she’d probably recognise a thrush’s song…

      On the other hand, why should Kelt be suspicious? And even if he was, he wouldn’t be able to find out who she was. Once she’d escaped Felipe she’d covered her tracks so well that even he, with all his resources in brutal men and tainted money, hadn’t been able to hunt her down.

      Kelt told her, ‘The original homestead was down on the flat, quite close to the workers’ cottages you can see, but when it burned down early in the twentieth century the new one was built up here.’

      Hani filed away the fact that in New Zealand—at least in the countryside—substantial houses were called cottages. ‘What’s the difference between a cottage and a homestead and a bach?’

      ‘A bach is a holiday cottage, always casual, very beachy. They used to be small and primitive, but nowadays that isn’t necessarily so.’

      ‘No indeed,’ she said, thinking of the bach she was staying in.

      He gave her an ironic smile. ‘My grandmother made quite a few renovations to it. She enjoyed the simple life for a short time, but had no intention of giving up any comfort.’

      His grandmother had clearly been a sophisticate. Well, Kiwinui was a big farm, and Hani didn’t need to know the size of his bank balance to accept that Kelt was a wealthy man.

      Kelt said, ‘As for workers’ cottages, the term’s a hangover from the days when they were fairly basic. Nowadays no worker would be happy with basic housing, and even if he was his wife certainly wouldn’t be, so they’re usually good-sized family homes.’

      ‘And a homestead is where the owner of the farm lives?’ she guessed.

      ‘Either the owner or manager’s house on a farm or station.’

      Hani nodded. ‘Is this estate—Kiwinui—a farm or a station? What’s the difference?’

      ‘Basically a station is a larger farm—usually settled early in New Zealand’s history. The first Gillan arrived here about a hundred and forty years ago. And yes, Kiwinui is a station.’

      Hani looked down at the bay, frowning at the abrupt change of colour in the water. ‘It looks as though it gets deep very quickly there,’ she observed. ‘Surely my cove—’ colouring, she hastily corrected herself ‘—I mean, the one with the bach, would be safer for the children? I truly don’t mind them coming, and I’d be happy to supervise their swimming. And young Kura seems very capable.’

      ‘We’ll see how things go.’ His tone was non-committal. ‘When those dark circles disappear then perhaps the children can pay you visits.’

      Hani sent him a sharp look. ‘The darkness under my eyes will go in its own good time. And I enjoy children’s company.’

      ‘You’ll enjoy it more when you’re stronger.’

      His tone left no room for negotiation. Fuming, Hani decided that autocratic wasn’t emphatic enough to describe him. Clearly he was accustomed to giving orders and seeing them obeyed.