The Convict and the Cattleman Read Online Free PDF

of them. He remembered the Irish tended to be resilient; they had to be to survive under British law. Australia was practically overrun with Scots and Irish alike. She probably had kinsmen on every corner.
    There was something different about her. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. The pink in her cheeks was more than sun. She sat straighter today, like a weight had been removed. Even after the incident with the snake, she’d perked up. The clean air agreed with her. He didn’t want to imagine the relief that must be coursing through her at leaving the Factory behind. Granted the opportunity to clean up, she might look like the lady she professed to be.
    If he was honest with himself, he felt guilty for treating her harshly. He could do something to make up for it, and he never objected to a good meal. The stopover would delay them, but it would be worth it.
     
    * * * *
     
    The cooler temperatures almost lulled Bridgit to sleep. She spent the afternoon watching colorful birds, studying strange plants, and trying not to think about Mr. Andrus’s hands on her. Gentle, but firm. A touch meant to soothe away aches and pains. She’d forgotten about wild animals and danger with his hands on her.
    She paid no mind to the road or the direction. Her head bobbed against her chest, until a shout almost caused her to topple off the seat.
    Mr. Andrus grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer. His touch sent a sizzle of heat through her.
    For a long moment, she pressed against him, trying to regain her bearings. Bridgit turned her face up, forgetting the noise that had startled her.
    He returned her stare, though neither said a word.
    “You old blighter! What the blazes are you doing out this way?”
    Bridgit’s gaze left Mr. Andrus and she scooted away. A wiry, red-haired man emerged from the brush. He appeared friendly enough, smiling through a heavy beard. His accent was Irish. A fresh wave of homesickness rolled over her.
    “Natty,” Mr. Andrus greeted. His teeth flashed in a wide smile. The sight transformed his face. Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, and his dark brown irises softened.
    The man he called Natty waited for them to stop. Judging by the felled trees behind him, he’d been splitting rails for a fence. Grayish-blue eyes roved over Bridgit so intimately, heat crept up her neck. If only she had the power to disappear. The man wore plain work clothes, not the fancy sort Mr. Andrus sported. He looked at home in the forest, almost like a bushranger, except for the cheerful smile and sparkling eyes.
    Natty looked back at Mr. Andrus, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Got yourself a Sheila there, ain’t you? You get married without inviting the missus? She’ll have your hide, mate.”
    Mr. Andrus shook his head. “I didn’t marry her. She’s one of the Factory women.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “The best I could do on short notice.”
    Bridgit, used to being talked about, couldn’t help feeling ashamed as Mr. Andrus introduced her.
    “Natty Payne, miss.” He offered his grubby hand and a wide smile. At least three of his front teeth were missing. He might be brash, but he was amiable. Her arm brushed the front of Mr. Andrus’s shirt when she leaned over to shake Natty’s hand. A tingle shot through her fingers. It had nothing to do with the other man’s firm grip.
    “Bridgit Madden.” She offered what she hoped was a warm smile.
    “I pity you, lass, stuck with this one. He’s about as friendly as a dingo with its foot caught in a trap.”
    Mr. Andrus’s smiled faded a touch, but he shook his head in a good-natured way. “Natty, I haven’t come here for you to ruin my character. I thought we could get a decent meal and a night’s rest before we move on.”
    “Aye, the pair of you look a mess. Roll that buggy to the house. I’ll catch up. Bess’ll be dancing a jig when she learns there’s another woman to talk at. Me ears are worn to nubs living with her all these years. Tell her