Maggie’s eyes went wide. “Aborigines? But I thought they were wild people, roaming the Outback—”

“Many of them are,” Reeve broke in quietly. “They’re a wandering people and they do have a tendency to just drop everything and leave, should the spirit move them.”

Before Maggie could make a response to that, a short, balding man with an air of authority came striding into the room. He carried a round-brimmed hat in one hand and his small, colorless eyes took in Maggie’s countenance with an expression that bordered on disapproval.

Reeve set his drink aside, seeming just the least bit self-conscious, and Maggie understood when she took a second look at the stranger. He was wearing a clerical collar. Standing, Reeve said with a cordial nod, “Reverend Collins.”

The reverend nodded back. “Time I was moving on,” he said in a thick Australian accent. “Of course, I couldn’t go without telling you that I passed the stormy night in great comfort, thanks to your kindly offer of a roof over my head.”

Maggie slanted a look at Reeve, knowing now why he hadn’t brought her to this house the night before, and took a sip of her tea.

Reeve shook hands with Reverend Collins. “I’m glad you were at ease,” he said. He was just about to present Maggie properly, when the minister turned and left the room.

It was a rebuff; Maggie might as well have been invisible. Nettled, she looked Reeve McKenna squarely in the eye when he sat back down in his chair. “You don’t strike me as a religious man,” she said.

He smiled. “I’m not. I was planning on staying at the campsite anyway, since Samaritan was going to race today. Reverend Collins came from some distance, and he didn’t have a wagon.”

Maggie stole a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was making a whirring sound as it geared up to strike the hour. One ponderous bong followed another. “I’ve missed the omnibus,” she muttered, annoyed.

“You’ll be back in Sydney before Duncan is, so don’t worry,” Reeve responded, his tones clipped.

“You don’t like Mr. Kirk, do you?” Maggie wanted to know, watching Reeve very closely.

She saw his features tighten, noticed the involuntary leap of a muscle along his jawline. “That is an understatement,” he replied. “Duncan may seem charming and genteel, but he’s no fit companion for an innocent young woman.”

Maggie’s throat constricted and she looked down at her hands, the teacup she held rattling ever so slightly in its saucer. When she lifted her eyes, they were fiery with the knowledge of all she’d lost. “And you are?” she asked pointedly.

Reeve McKenna let out a long, ragged sigh. “I’m sorry, Maggie—about everything.”