The Socialite and the Cattle King by Lindsay Armstrong Read Free Book Online Page B

in her bag. Her mother had been unable to let her come to Palm Cove without some maternal input: she’d tucked in a little box of jewellery. Amongst the necklaces and bangles was a pair of very long, dangly bead-and-gilt earrings.
    Holly stared at them then put them on.
    Not bad, she decided, and tied her hair back.
    Finally, with her feet in ballet pumps and her tote bag on her shoulder, she went to find Brett Wyndham’s suite.
    It was on the top floor of the resort with sweeping views of Palm Cove. Although the sun was setting in the west behind the resort, the waters of the cove reflected the time of day in a spectrum of lovely colours, apricot, lavender and lilac.
    It was a moment before she took her eyes off the panorama after a waiter admitted her and ushered her into the lounge. Then she turned to the man himself, and got a surprise.
    No casual clothes this time. Today he wore a grey suit and a blue-and-white-striped shirt. Today he looked extremely formal as he talked into his mobile phone.
    Merely talking? Holly wondered. Or in the process of delivering an extremely cutting dressing-down as he stood half-turned away from her and fired words rather like bullets into the phone? Then he cut the connection,threw the phone down on a sofa in disgust and turned to her with his dark eyes blazing.
    Holly swallowed in sudden fright and took a step backwards. ‘Uh—hi!’ she said uncertainly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Maybe I’ll just go until your temper has cooled a bit.’ She turned away hurriedly.
    He reached her in two strides and spun her back with his hands on her shoulders. ‘Don’t think you can walk out on me, Holly Harding.’
    Holly stared up at him, going rigid and quite pale with anger. ‘Let me go !’
    Brett Wyndham paused, frowned down at her then let his hands drop to his side. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly and went over to a drinks trolley. ‘Here.’ He brought her back a brandy.
    ‘I don’t—’
    ‘Holly…’ he warned.
    ‘All I ever seem to do is drink either champagne or brandy in your presence,’ she said frustratedly.
    A faint smile twisted his lips. ‘Sit down,’ he said, and when she hesitated he added ‘Let me explain. In certain circumstances I have a very short fuse.’
    ‘So it would appear,’ she agreed wholeheartedly.
    He pulled off his jacket. ‘Yes, well.’ He gestured towards the phone. ‘That was news that a breeding pair of black rhino—highly endangered now in Africa—has been injured in transit. I bought them from a zoo where they were patently not breeding due to stress, too small a habitat and so on.’
    ‘Oh,’ Holly said and sank into a chair, her imagination captured—so much so, she forgot her fright of a few minutes ago. ‘Badly injured? In a road accident orwhat? A road accident,’ she answered herself. ‘That’s why you were informing the person on the other end of the phone—’ she glanced over at his mobile phone lying on the sofa opposite ‘—that he must have got his driving licence out of a cornflake packet. Amongst everything else you said.’
    Brett Wyndham grinned fleetingly. ‘Yes. But no, not badly injured. All the same, their numbers are shrinking at such an alarming rate, it’s a terrifying thought, losing even two. And it only adds to their stress.’
    ‘I see.’ She frowned. ‘Not that I see where I come into it. Are you trying to tell me that when your short fuse explodes anyone within range is liable to cop it?’
    ‘It’s been known to happen,’ he agreed. ‘However, there was a grain of truth in what I said. By the way, your hair looks nice. But I have an aversion to long, dangly earrings.’
    Holly raised her eyebrows. ‘Why?’
    He said, ‘A girl invited me home for dinner once. I arrived on time with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine. She opened the door. She had her hair all pulled back and all she wore were long dangly earrings, high heels and a G-string.’
    Holly gasped.
    ‘Exactly