The bushman arched raven-black eyebrows and returned his hat to his head with a deft and innately masculine motion of one sun-bronzed hand. “You’ve come all this way to meet up with Philip Briggs, have you?”

Maggie’s eyes widened as she met the stranger’s quietly contemptuous gaze. “Why, yes. Do you know Mr. Briggs?”

A muscle in the Australian’s jaw bunched into a knot and then went slack again. “Aye. I know him. He works for me.”

Maggie searched her memory and came up with a name Philip had mentioned in passing. “You would be Mr. McKenna, then.”

The answer was a nod, so brisk as to be terse and quite ill-mannered. Mr. McKenna’s straw hat shadowed his eyes. “I would,” he answered. A brassy-gold charm gleamed among the dark swirls of hair visible in the deep V of his shirt.

Maggie realized that she’d been staring, and blinked. She felt oddly alarmed at the coldness the mention of Philip Briggs had engendered in his employer and called upon all her stage experience to smile with confidence. “Then you must know that Philip and I plan to be married.”

“Do you now?” asked Mr. McKenna with polite interest. “I’m sure that will be news to most of Sydney.”

Maggie had been at sea for five long weeks and now, at last, she’d reached Brisbane, only to be denied the meeting with Philip she’d looked forward to with such bright hopes. And here was her future husband’s employer, offering not a word of encouragement or welcome. Was it possible that Philip hadn’t mentioned his plans to marry?

A lump formed in Maggie’s throat and she gazed toward Brisbane in near despair as the S.S. Victoria chugged onward toward Sydney. Tansy and her beau wandered off down the deck, but Mr. McKenna remained, his gaze following Maggie’s, his huge frame braced against the railing.

A flock of gray-white birds with lovely pink breasts soared past, a wondrous sight against the twilight sky. Maggie smiled despite all her uncertainties.

“They’re called galahs,” Mr. McKenna said.

Maggie could not and would not look at her unwanted companion. If she did, she might see pity in his blue-green eyes and that would be unbearable. “They’re quite lovely,” she said, still watching the beautiful birds as they soared off toward the land. “Are you fleeing the flood, Mr. McKenna?”

“Not really,” came the gruff yet gentle reply. “I have business in Sydney.”

Maggie drew a deep breath and made herself look into those incredible eyes. “I will find Philip Briggs waiting for me in Sydney, won’t I, Mr. McKenna?” she asked.

“You’ll find him,” the Australian sighed, pulling his hat down farther over his brow.

Hardly more enlightened than before, Maggie squared her shoulders and walked with dignity across the deck and back into the sleeping compartment.

Chapter 2