Free Cattle Baron: Nanny Needed by Margaret Way Page A

of the Western Districts of Victoria or South Australia, reminders of Home that almost exclusively had been the British Isles, maybe the classical architecture of New South Wales and Tasmania, but what confronted her was her idea of a great country house that wouldn’t have been out of place in South East Asia. She had enjoyed several trips to Thailand. The house put her in mind of that part of the world and she said as much to the Cattle Baron.
    He gave her a smile that brought her out in the trembles. “You got it in one. A big section of the original homestead was destroyed by fire in the late nineteen-forties. My grandfather razed what remained to the ground, then brought in a friend of his, a Thai prince he had met on his travels, who was also an architect, to design the new homestead. It’s a one-off for our neck of the woods.”
    “And it’s wonderful,” she said. “Not at all what I expected. You should have peacocks patrolling the grounds.”
    “Maybe we can rise to a few emus.”
    “You can’t tame emus, surely?”
    “Yes, you can,” he said, watching her. He had set her a number of little tests to gauge her reactions when removed from her comfort zone. She had passed all of them with flying colours. He didn’t know if he was pleased or the fact bothered him. This astonishingly beautiful woman belonged in the city, surely? That was her future. Jingala was a far cry from anything she was used to. His mother couldn’t hack it.
    She was staring up into his face, noting the darkening change of expression. “I never know if you’re serious or fooling.”
    “You’ll know when I’m serious.”
    Some note in his voice had her flushing. To hide it, she turned away, resuming her study of this fascinating and totally unexpected house. For all its size, it sat unobtrusively in itsoasis of a setting, which she put down to the fact that it was constructed almost entirely of dark-stained timber.
    “The pyramid form is exactly right.”
    “Glad you like it. Five in all, as you can see, with broad overhangs to shelter the upper verandas. The central section is the largest. It acts as a portico.”
    “So you have a group of separate places.”
    He nodded. “What we call the Great Room is the common room, our reception room.”
    “I recognise the Khmer style. I’ve been to Thailand three or four times. The roof and window treatment, the timber grilles and framework are all recognisably Khmer style.”
    “Educated eyes, obviously.”
    She glanced up at him to see if there was mockery involved. Even then she wasn’t sure. “The house is perfect for the tropics, yet it appears equally well at home in the desert. Not that everything around us resembles a desert. The grounds are thriving.”
    “We had a wonderful drenching over the cooler months. But we do have an underground source of water from the Great Artesian Basin. My great-grandmother saw to it that the grounds were heavily planted out with date palms and desert oaks. She was one smart lady, all the way from the Scottish Highlands. The other trees and plants were selected to cope with the hot dry environment.”
    “You must tell me about this clever great-grandmother of yours,” she said. “That’s when you have the time.”
    “Ms Wyatt, I’ll make time,” he said with considerable aplomb. “We’ll go inside. Surely you’re feeling the heat of the sun?” Amazingly, she looked as if she wasn’t feeling it one bit. In fact, she looked magnolia-cool.
    “It is hot,” she agreed. “But I can tolerate dry heat. It’s the humidity of the tropics that gets to me. Anyway, being a redhead, I always use sunblock.”
    “And a good wide brimmed hat would be very helpful. You’ve packed one, I hope?” He frowned slightly.
    “Well, I didn’t have time to race out to buy an Akubra, if that’s what you mean. But I threw in a couple of decent broad brimmed hats.”
    “Thank God for that! I can only hope and pray our Outback does nothing to harm that