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Perhaps it’s simply that I’m not his type, she thought as she climbed the dusty staircase, then flushed as the thought, ‘but he could be mine,’ popped unbidden into her mind. She’d have to beware of losing
her
sense of proportion where this sometimes unapproachable Australian was concerned, not to mention her heart, she decided, as she firmly dismissed these uncomfortable thoughts and got on with the task in hand.

Three of the bedrooms on the upper floor were more or less the same size, but the fourth was decidedly smaller and judging by the furniture and oddments stacked haphazardly in it had simply been a lumber room. There would be more unwanted pieces to add, Davina thought grimly as she looked around the other three rooms. She ruled out the north-facing bedroom as being too dark and cold and concentrated her energies on the other two. One glance showed her the beds were useless. Stained mattresses, the flock escaping in places, lay over rusting springs. She removed them, together with the mats and rotting curtains, into the lumber room and by the time elevenses were coming up, the two rooms she had selected were as clean as soap, hot water and elbow grease could make them.

Nevertheless, there was something like defeat on Davina’s face as she went downstairs to put the kettle on. She found Rex hard at work in one of the barns and the disappointment vanished as she looked around with interest.

‘I honestly believe the late owner of Nineveh looked after the outhouses better than he did the farmhouse itself,’ Davina declared, having noticed recently whitewashed walls and no sign of the neglect so evident in the house.

‘You’re probably right,’ Rex answered as with his hand at her elbow he walked back with her across the cobbled yard. ‘I’m given to understand that after his wife’s death, when not attending his sheep he was always in the saloon bar of the Shepherd and Crook in Camshaw.’

He accepted the cup of tea Davina poured and selected a biscuit. ‘Poor man,’ she said softly, then almost without a pause, ‘Did you have time to look at the electricity generator?’

‘Women never give up, do they?’ Rex replied with grim resignation in his voice. ‘I not only looked, I fixed. Try for yourself if you don’t believe me,’ and he nodded to the switch beside the doorway.

Davina flicked it down and instantly the bulb over the kitchen table lighted up. In impulsive gratitude she quite forgot that with this man it might be wiser to check her natural ebullience and giving him a swift hug said, ‘Oh, you doll! Now I shan’t have to crawl into bed tonight convinced there are all sorts of creepie-crawlies in that beastly dining room.’ As she sat down to take up her own teacup she was unaware of the gleam in Rex’s eyes, but there was no mistaking the note of sardonic amusement as he asked, ‘Are you always so lavish with thanks? If getting the electricity going winds you up, what will be my reward for ordering some items out of this catalogue?’ and sauntering over to his bedding, he abstracted a bulky volume and laid it on the table.

Davina turned the pages slowly, looking with interest at coloured illustrations of all kinds of household articles. ‘I could see those beds are unusable,’ Rex said, and the devilry had vanished from his smooth voice, Davina was relieved to notice. ‘We can’t sleep on camp beds indefinitely, so pick out what you fancy and when the pens are finished I’ll run down to the village and phone an order through to the shop— bedding and stuff as well. The rams aren’t due to be delivered until this afternoon, so I’ll have time.’

When he returned some time later, Davina had a list neatly filled out with sizes and colours. She had chosen autumn shades for Rex’s bedroom, blue and green for her own. As he picked up the list and ran his eye down it she asked tentatively, ‘Would you mind if I put a coat of paint on the bedrooms first? I’ve given them a good clean, but they’re pretty dreary. I shouldn’t think they’ve been redecorated for years.’

Rex’s answer was to stride to the hall door and in a few minutes Davina could hear his footsteps overhead. He was soon back and she noticed once again the glint she had surprised in his eyes when he returned the evening before to find she had transformed the kitchen. It was not, however, apparent in his voice, which held only scepticism as he asked, ‘Do you really want to tackle painting those rooms?’ and at her nod he said slowly, ‘I wouldn’t have categorized you as the little homemaker, but if that’s what you want, it’s okay by me.’

There was so little encouragement in his voice that Davina held on to a rising temper with difficulty. Her voice was stiff as she said, ‘Perhaps you feel for six months it’s hardly worth going to so much expense. Forget I suggested it,’ to which Rex said softly, ‘Up on your high horse again? You surprise me. You don’t give the impression of being thin-skinned,’ which made Davina’s eyes fly to his face.

It told her nothing, however, and she looked quickly away from that hard penetrating stare. ‘If you’re willing to do the work by all means let’s cover that ghastly green paint and putty-coloured wallpaper. I think I saw the village shop sold paint. Any particular colours in mind?’

‘No ... I thought ... could I come with you and see what they have?’ Davina stammered out, surprised to notice an almost pleading note in her reply. Accustomed as she was to her fellow students’ eagerness to offer assistance or simply do her bidding, she had seldom had to even ask a favour. But Rex was a different kettle of fish from Mike and her other friends. It would be difficult to imagine him going out of his way to do casual favours for any woman, an educated hunch which his answer endorsed.

‘Come if you wish, but I’ve no time to hang around. Be ready by the time I’ve backed the old Land Rover out,’ and picking up his jacket and the list Rex was gone.

Flying to the dining room, Davina dashed a comb through her hair and slipped into a thin waterproof which would, she hoped, hide the fact that her jeans and shirt bore evidence of her morning’s work. She ran outside to find Rex at the wheel impatiently revving the engine, and he had the vehicle moving almost before her door was closed.

When they reached the first gate Davina was out and had it open before Rex could so much as turn his head, for his astringent remark on the duties of a passenger on their arrival here had flicked her on the raw. He stopped only to let her out at the village store when they reached Camshaw before driving on to pull up beside the telephone kiosk further along the village street.

There were several people in the large village shop when Davina pushed open the door and wandered to the corner where tins of paint jostled for space with detergents and toiletries. She hid a smile as she became aware of the curious glances being cast in her direction, for she was well used to the speculation any stranger aroused in a village community.

She waited for the first direct question, and it was not long in coming. Ignoring the prior claims of the other customers, the owner of the store appeared at her elbow, smiled and asked, ‘Can I help? Is it paint you’re wanting, Miss …' and he waited with unshakable confidence for Davina to fill the gap.

She gave an inward sigh of resignation and smiled back. ‘Williams. And yes, I do want paint. Is this all you’ve got, Mr...’

For a moment the storekeeper looked taken aback, not used to having his own tactics turned against him. ‘Berwick’s the name, Miss Williams. Yes, I’m afraid we only keep the white, but I can order colours if you like. Take about a week to get here.’

Well aware that the other occupants of the shop were avidly listening to every word, Davina said, ‘That’s too long. I guess the white will have to do. Two large tins of the emulsion and one of gloss paint—oh, and a roller and some brushes, please.’

Her purchases were being carefully wrapped when Rex strode into the shop and joined her at the counter. ‘Got what you want?’ he asked as he took out his wallet.

The tying up of the parcel was halted for a moment as Mr Berwick said, ‘Morning, Mr Fitzpaine. I didn’t know the young lady was with you.’

‘We’re going to do a bit of decorating at Nineveh,’ Rex replied as he threw some notes on the counter. ‘My sister felt she couldn’t live with olive green paint. Oh, didn’t she introduce herself?’ he asked in apparent surprise as Mr Berwick looked too stunned to reply. ‘This is my stepsister, Miss Williams. She’s come to keep house for me for a while.’ All Davina’s amusement at the unconcealed curiosity of the occupants of the store vanished as she listened to Rex’s glib lie and she opened her mouth to refute his introduction just as a sharp pinch on her upper arm warned her to hold her tongue.

Her soft lips closed into a tight little line as Rex collected his change, picked up the parcel and led the way outside. As soon as they were seated in the Land Rover, however, she turned to her companion and demanded, ‘What was the point of that whopping lie back there? I know you’re a long way from home, but I’m not, and I haven’t got a brother. Not even a stepbrother,’ she finished, her eyes flashing fire.

‘Cool down! I should have thought the object of the exercise was self-evident. Once it became known that you and I were not related, you know as well as I do what suspicious natures most country folk have, and they’d never have swallowed the housekeeper bit. No one would give a damn in Sydney or London what we were up to, but you tell me you come from a small village, and I know just what would be said over the galah session where I come from,’ Rex’s voice held amused irony. ‘With a pretty little thing like you under my roof the neighbourhood tabbies would have the skin off my back before you could say Captain Cook.’

‘Whose reputation were you protecting, then, yours or mine?’ Davina enquired tardy.

‘Both!’ Rex’s retort was brief and to the point. ‘I could see everyone’s ears flapping as soon as I put my foot inside the shop, and I’ll wager anything you like by this time our supposed relationship is all round Camshaw.’

Remembering the gossip in her home village, Davina did not doubt his words for an instant. Just the same, the thought of sailing under false colours gave her an unpleasant feeling. She had always been a bad liar and she saw trouble ahead as a result of Rex’s efforts to scotch a scandal. Despite her cousin’s words of warning, the possible construction that people might put upon her keeping house for a man as attractive as Rex Fitzpaine had simply gone over her head. How short-sighted could a girl be, Davina thought, how dim-witted?

Either the lie he had been called upon to tell or her own reactions had sent Rex into another of his impenetrable moods. He drove in silence and at top speed back to the farm and as they got out, he handed Davina the parcel of paint and said stiffly, ‘I’ll be in for a meal in half an hour,’ before striding off in the direction of the barn.

Davina burned with resentment, but she was wise enough to keep silent. Not that he had given her much chance to reply, she thought as swiftly she opened a tin of ham and prepared a salad. She had barely finished laying the table and making the inevitable tea when he came in, and taking her seat, she sat waiting for him to wash and join her at the table.

Picking up the carving knife and fork, he began to carve, asking in a perfectly affable voice, ‘Hungry?’

No sense in letting him know how much his changeable moods chilled her, Davina thought, and looking up she smiled sweetly. ‘Absolutely famished !’

Five minutes later, staring in something like dismay at her heaped plate, she wished she had been a little wiser, for Rex had served her as much as he had served himself. Wondering how she would get through it all, she noticed with resentment that Rex was tucking into his lunch with every evidence of enjoyment. Sleeves rolled above his elbows, he ate as if he hadn’t a care in the world until, looking up, he caught her staring.

‘Now what’s biting you? You’re looking at me as if it were feeding time in the zoo. Do none of your boy-friends have normal healthy appetites?’

Davina’s long eyelashes flickered and she looked away, but Rex had no intention of letting her off without an answer. ‘Cat got your tongue?'

Davina looked up, met the smile at the back of the hard eyes, and reluctantly smiled back. ‘Sorry if I seemed rude. I was simply admiring your magnificent appetite.’

It was the best she could think of on the spur of the moment. Why did he always put her in the wrong so that she was forced to apologise?

‘I’ve a big frame to fill, remember, and it needs stoking regularly from time to time. Tell me,’ his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned towards her, ‘what’s for supper?’

It was such a ludicrous remark from a man with a loaded plate in front of him that Davina let out an involuntary chuckle. She met the look in the hooded eyes and was unable to drag her own away. Something in his gaze made her stunningly aware of how breathtakingly attractive he was, from the top of his healthily shining hair down the strong brown throat to the powerful, muscular body.

She managed somehow to look away, for he had an uncanny habit of reading her thoughts. She could not have been quick enough, however, for as if conscious of the fact that she was with difficulty controlling an irresistible urge to touch him, Rex stretched out his long legs under the table until his feet encountered her own.

Quickly, Davina drew her feet back until they were under her chair, in no way reassured by Rex’s soft laugh as he went on eating. She was gripped by a strange, hitherto unknown sensation of swimming in uncharted waters and for the remainder of the meal she did her best to keep her wayward thoughts under control and the conversation on strictly mundane lines.

There was wicked amusement plain to see on Rex’s face as she asked about the rams which were to arrive that afternoon. Draining his tea, he pushed back his chair and got up.

‘Why the sudden interest?’ he asked as he took out his tobacco tin. He cocked a mocking eyebrow. ‘I told you yesterday that wasn’t going to be your province, that I’d a shepherd in mind. And here he is now,’ he added as Davina heard a knock on the door.

Rex strode forward and threw it open to reveal an elderly man standing in the porch, a crossbred black and white dog stolid resignation on his woolly face. Davina leaned over to tickle him between his ears, saying over her shoulder, ‘It may be my imagination, but this one doesn’t look too happy, I suppose that partition’s safe?’