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She dropped his hand again. Not because she wanted to, but because she was afraid of how much she felt the opposite—as though it were becoming a beating, throbbing part of her. Something was shifting, and the same incantations of the river almost seemed to be the cause. It was as though with each bubble and slurp, it was casting a spell over Sarah, making her fall in love with this landscape, feel a connection to this place she didn’t want to feel.

She cast around for something to say that might take the temperature down a notch. ‘You said you run other stations. Do you travel to them often?’

He took her lead, to Sarah’s relief. ‘A few times a year. I tend to take six weeks or so, go do them all in one hit. Spend some time in Sydney with Rex.’

Her steps faltered slightly on what she presumed to be uneven ground, but Tate was right there, his hand snaking out around her waist, steadying her. You’re safe with me.

‘Will you keep doing that?’

His glance showed surprise, then contemplation. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’ Then, after a beat, ‘No. I won’t. The baby changes everything.’

The baby. Good. It was imperative for them both to remember that this had nothing to do with her. Or him. This was only about their child.

‘We could come with you.’ The second she’d made the offer, she regretted it. It sounded too dependent. Too needy. She back-pedalled as quickly as she could. ‘I mean, occasionally. And not for the whole time. Kids need routine, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ he murmured, but as though he was lost in thought.

‘Is it a big deal, to change how you do business?’

He turned his attention back to her. ‘No.’

She expelled a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. ‘I mean, we’d be fine, obviously…’

‘You would be.’ He dipped his head. ‘You’re right, Sarah. You’re strong. Stronger than I appreciated, that first day.’

She laughed then, the sound somehow softly lyrical, matching the noises that surrounded them. ‘No, that day I was completely out of my depth. If you hadn’t arrived, I seriously don’t know what I would have done. You were furious with me.’

He grimaced. ‘I knew how dangerous it was. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.’

‘You know, if you’d been less intimidating, I probably wouldn’t have come with you. You saved my life.’

The sounds of the bush took over, gentle and persistent, and just enough to drown out the first whisperings of suspicion that were moving through Sarah, lifting the mother of all red flags, telling her she needed to step back from this before she lost herself utterly and completely.

* * *

Only, stepping back wasn’t so easy. Not when they were living in the same house, sharing meals and the same physical space, with a picture of their tiny growing baby stuck to the front of the fridge. Not when there seemed to be an invisible biological force pushing them closer together, so that when they returned from horse riding and Tate suggested steak for dinner, it was the most natural thing in the world for Sarah to take a seat at the kitchen counter while he cooked, and threw together a salad, and they talked.

Not about anything monumental or life-changing, but about their worlds, their lives, their habits and hobbies.

It was everything Sarah would have said she wanted out of this week—to get to know Tate as a person, to see behind the untouchable edifice he kept in place. But the more she saw, the more she retreated, because she was forgetting to protect herself, more and more, and surely that was a recipe for disaster? How could they manage this marriage if her feelings got in the way?

How could she cope with being rejected by someone like Tate?

And how could he risk raising their baby in a war zone?

‘You know, I definitely wouldn’t have had you pegged as someone who did their own dishes,’ she said, after they’d finished eating and were washing dishes in the kitchen, side by side at the sink filled with warm, soapy water.

‘Oh, yeah?’ In the reflection of the large windows that sat above the sink, his eyes found hers. And despite the fact that their look was filtered through glass, with a hint of moonlight to lessen the impact, her heart still thundered, and her fingers trembled a little when she took the cleaned plate from him, to dry.

‘I mean, not that I did think about it.’ Heat crept up her neck, towards her cheeks.

‘You knew who I was, though.’

‘Everyone knows who you are. You’re a Carrigan.’

The bubbles crackled in the sink as he submerged another plate. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Sarah wished she found his forearms slightly less attractive.

‘As will you be—and our child.’