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Page 218

| while taking her stroll down by the river, she had heard something like a scream echo across the river from Stanford Sidwell's sheep station. The scream had been brief, but most definitely a woman's. The only other woman in this part of the scrub was Bianca. If Sasha confided in Ashton about the scream, he would watch her like a hawk, and she would not be able to go to Stanford's sheep station to investigate tomorrow. And she wanted to do this alone. If Bianca was in some sort of trouble, it would look less conspicuous if a woman friend came to call without being escorted by a man holstered heavily with revolvers. |

| "Then give me a smile," Ashton said, slipping a finger beneath her chin and lifting it so that their eyes met. |

| Sasha forced a smile. |

| "Now that's more like it," Ashton said, then playfully swept her up into his arms and carried her inside the cabin. "What's for supper, sweet darlin'?" |

| "Fried chicken and spinach," Sasha said, clinging around his neck, adoring him. |

| Ashton groaned. "Spinach?" he said, visibly shuddering. "When I left Melbourne, I thought I'd never have to eat another leaf of spinach. Where on earth did you find it out here?" |

| "I have my ways," Sasha said, giggling. |

| "Spinach?" Ashton repeated, screwing up his face with distaste again. Then he smiled down at Sasha before placing her to her feet. "But, sweet darlin', what's for dessert? Or need I ask?" |

| Sasha twined her arms more tightly around his neck and drew his lips to her mouth. "Let me |

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