Davina looked up from the breakfast she was making to see her employer lounging in the kitchen doorway. He had on khaki shorts, a white 'I-shirt, his hair was damp and tousled and his feet bare. She also wore a pair of long khaki shorts, a neat pink blouse tucked into them with a narrow leather belt around her trim waist and polished leather moccasins. She'd tucked her hair behind her ears and had only put moisturiser on her face and a touch of soft coral lipstick. The effect, nevertheless, because her thick hair shone and was well-cut, her skin smooth and fresh, her nails perfectly manicured, was one of good grooming and an air of purpose.

Steve Warwick took this all in as she merely nodded at him and told him that she'd taken the liberty of making him bacon and eggs this first morning.

He glanced at the pan she was tending. 'Bacon and eggs suit me fine.' He strolled into the kitchen and pulled a chair out from the table which was laid for one and had a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice on it. 'It seems to me that you've settled in rather well,' he remarked.

'Well, there are one or two things we'll have to discuss,' she murmured, and put a plate in front of him containing not only bacon and eggs but fried tomato and banana. 'Uh-do you like coffee or tea for breakfast?'

'Coffee, thank you,' he replied politely.

Davina set the percolator on the stove and put fresh toast in a rack on the table. 'What about you?' he added.

'I've had breakfast, thank you.'

A gleam of amusement lit his eyes. 'Won't you at least join me for a cup of coffee? We could discuss whatever it is we need to discuss at the same time.'

'All right.' But she waited until he'd finished and cleared his plate away as the coffee bubbled gently and filled the kitchen with its delicious aroma. She poured two cups and sat down opposite him, hesitated, then decided to plunge right in. 'I've found that it's usually helpful to everyone to have a timetable for meals and, if there need to be any variations, if you'd let me know the evening before, I can make the necessary adjustments. I don't-' she paused and smiled faintly '-mean that to sound as if I'm some sort of martinet who'll be making everyone's life a misery if they're two minutes late for dinner.'

Steve Warwick wiped his long fingers on a gingham napkin. 'Not at all,' he drawled. 'I think it's an admirable suggestion. Go on.'

Davina warned herself against being entirely fooled by this compliance. 'But breakfast is a bit different when you're on holiday,' she continued, 'so-'

'Loretta and my grandmother only eat fruit and toast for breakfast. They can help themselves to that whenever they like. Candice and I usually eat breakfast together at around about this time. Otherwise make it twelve-thirty for lunch and seven for dinner.'

'Good,' Davina murmured after a moment. 'I see the bedrooms aren't made up-will Candice and her mother share or-'

'No.'

'OK. I'll fix them up the day before they arrive. What about food in general-any preferences? And would you like three-course dinners, for example, hot lunches? Does Candice join you for dinner?'

He shrugged. 'Yes, she does unless it's a dinner party and on those occasions three courses would be in order. Lunch you can make quite simple, cold meat and salad, that kind of thing-I leave it up to you.'

'So only two courses when you aren't entertaining?'

'Uh huh. We also catch and eat a lot of fish-are you good at cooking fish, Davina?' He raised an eyebrow at her.

'How nice for you-extremely good,' she said mildly. 'I noticed a barbecue outside-would it be in order to light it on the odd fine night? I'm even good at barbecuing fish.'

'Perfectly in order-is that the lot?' he said gravely, and Davina took a breath and set her teeth because it was back again. As he himself had put it, they were- albeit with the utmost politeness-fencing with each other once more.

And for the life of her she couldn't help herself as she said innocently, 'I think so. Are you about to rush off somewhere? Please don't let me detain you if so.'

'I'm about to take you on a tour of the island,' he replied equally as innocently.

She stood up, 'There's really no need for that, Mr Warwick. I found the bicycles so I can take myself, besides which, I ought to get to know your cleaning lady-'

'You can do that later, Davina. It so happens that this is the only free time I have at the moment.'

'But-'

'And I am quite determined to show you round the island, to introduce you to the local shopkeepers where you may shop for food or whatever you need on my account-there's also another Land Rover in the garage you can use-and to indicate to you the places you could visit with Candice so that you wouldn't be stumbling around in the dark, so to speak.'

Davina bit her lip as their gazes held and she perceived the bright irony in his. She sighed inwardly and reflected that the resolution she'd made on waking this morning, to do with somehow terminating all such exchanges between them, had failed. 'I'm sorry,' she said quietly. 'I'm ready whenever you are.'

He narrowed his hazel eyes but, and she couldn't believe it was to allow her to save face, said no more than, 'Give me ten minutes.'

Mounts Lidgbird and Gower presented quite a different image as they drove off. The sun sparkled on them, a few white clouds floated around their peaks, and Davina caught her breath.

Steve Warwick glanced at her with a lifted eyebrow.

'They just-get to me,' she said. 'Can you climb them?'

'Gower yes, but with a guide. Lidgbird is virtually inaccessible beyond the Goat House which is a bit over halfway up and so-called because it's a cave where the few wild goats left on the island shelter.'

'Are they indigenous?'

'No. They were put on the island to provide meat for any callers. Because of the damage they caused to the local flora they were then marked down for eradication.' He changed gear and turned on to the road over a cattle-grid.

'It's an incredibly beautiful island,' Davina said as they turned away from the mountains and she could see the lagoon with its turquoise water that hugged the western side of Lord Howe. 'Has your family always lived here? I'm afraid I don't know any of the history of the place.' 'Ah.' He grinned. 'Well, very briefly, it was discovered in 1788 by Lieutenant Lidgbird Ball when he sailed past on his way from Sydney Cove to Norfolk Island which became a penal colony. But until 1834 no one lived here although there were frequent visits from whaling ships and ships en route to Norfolk. The first settlers existed by trading provisions with passing ships and then in the late 1800s the Kentia palm, which is indigenous here, came wildly into vogue in European drawing-rooms and a flourishing trade in the sale of seeds became the island's main income-it still is today, together with tourism.'

Davina sighed and smiled. 'It's amazing, isn't it? I mean these islands of the South Pacific, Norfolk and Pitcairn, Norfolk with its awful history as a penal colony and both of them with their descendants of Fletcher Christian-and Lord Howe. It's a romantic part of the world.'

He grimaced. 'Are you a romantic, Davina?'

'In that respect, I guess I am,' she replied after a moment.

'Well, this is the airport, as you no doubt remember, and across the road here, up that incline and down the other side is Blinky Beach. If you're a good surfer it's great, but there are more protected beaches for kids.'

An hour later Davina had seen all there was to see by road of the island and had indeed been charmed. She loved the fact that there were no high-rise buildings, very few shops, an almost total lack of commercialisation and that most of the guest-houses and private dwellings were screened from sight behind luxurious, tangled foliage and the beautiful, tall, sometimes unbelievably tall, Norfolk pines. She loved the lush paddocks studded with yellow daisies and white clover and the lovely, secluded little beaches. She was introduced to the Kentia palm and saw her first white tern as they drove down Lagoon Road between towering walls of trees, and was amazed to be told that they laid their eggs on a bare branch, no nest, no nothing.

She was beguiled by the tiny community hall and the radio station alongside the only jetty the island boasted and she itched to don a back-pack loaded with her camera and explore the walking trails to places with bewitching names such as the Clear Place, Malabar, Mount Eliza. And everywhere on Lord Howe, she discovered, there were birds, from the island's distinctive landbirds like the plump, busy as a housewife emerald ground-dove, the Golden Whistler and the pied currawong to all the migratory species Steve Warwick had told her about-birds that performed unbelievable feats, to her mind, such as returning each year to the Arctic Circle or the North Pacific.

Another thing he'd been right about was the bicycles, and not only that, but the bicycle racks that were placed at every entrance and at the start of all the mountain trails and walks.

'It's amazing,' she said with a laugh as they inched past yet another group of cyclists all wearing crash helmets-the speed limit she'd noticed was twenty-five kilometres. 'And everyone wears a helmet!'

'Oh, our local policeman is very strict about that!'

'How is the island governed?' she asked curiously.

'Well, it's part of New South Wales but we have a local island board and an administrator who lives here. Since the island was inscribed on the World Heritage List, everyone's main aim has been to keep it as undisturbed as possible so that everything unique about it can flourish. That's why the tourist ceiling is set at four hundred, why there are no giant complexes and casinos et cetera. There are also no freehold titles on the island.'