by Margaret Way
“Everything organised,” Clary reported, looking up from her preparations, highly pleased. “I’m loving this. It’s quite a thrill cooking for someone who really understands food. Just don’t slam me if something doesn’t quite turn out.”
“As if I’d do that,” Angelica tutted. “This is going to be very successful, Clary, you’ll see. Nothing too adventurous considering Stacy’s and Gilly’s delicate palates. We’ll work up to that. Artichoke hearts with foie gras for starters, racks of lamb with a green herb crust, Moroccan orange tart. What more could they want? By the way, where’s your help?”
“She’ll be here in a moment.” Clary adjusted her snowy apron around her ample waist. “She had to settle the little one, I expect.”
“So it’s Leah? Good, I can get to meet her.”
She didn’t have to wait long. A very slender young woman of exotic appearance with elegant, birdlike limbs, dressed in a stylish outfit with a fascinating ethnic print, came silently through the back door. Her dark skin had a high gloss. She had big, soft, gentle eyes. When she caught sight of Angelica she stood perfectly still for a moment, but Clary called to her in an encouraging voice. “Come on in, Leah. Meet Miss De Campo. I told you all about her.”
Leah walked slowly across the room as though she had a heavy jar on her head, her dark eyes on Angelica standing so dramatically in her red dress that threw off vibrant light. “Hello, Leah.” Angelica put out her hand, smiling at the woman. The slender hand was like a living bird’s, trembling faintly. She put Angelica in mind of a small vulnerable creature of the wild ready to take off at the slightest breath of alarm. “I’m so pleased to meet you. I love the outfit you’re wearing. I’d like to wear something like that myself.”
“Then I’ll make something for you,” the young woman announced softly, apparently having made up her mind Angelica was a friend. “It’s hand-painted to my own design.”
“It’s beautiful.” Angelica, very fashion conscious, took a closer look. “You must be a very good dress-maker, as well,” she concluded, impressed.
“Learned it off the nuns she did,” Clary supplied. “Mission school. Natural talent. ’Course the nuns couldn’t teach her how to do all her lovely prints. That’s her world. The dreaming. Painting and drawing is your heritage, isn’t it, Leah?”
“Yes,” Leah agreed simply.
“We’ll have to talk more about this, Leah,” Angelica said with some enthusiasm, but aware there was work to be done. “I’d love to see more of what you do. You wear your own designs beautifully. You could have been a model walking across the room. I expect you know, quite a few indigenous designers are making it in the fashion world. There’s a showing heading to Italy right now. I’m of Italian descent.”
“You’re beautiful!” Leah pronounced, pressing a finger to a spot between her brows as though therein lay a third eye. There were no waves of anger or venom around this woman as tall as a queen. Leah with her sad background was very careful about people. “I could make something to please you,” she said, studying Angelica’s body intently. “I know your size.”
“Just like that?” Angelica laughed.
“Just like that.” Leah nodded, looking up to meet Angelica’s smiling eyes. “You could wear my clothes. Not everyone can.”
“See, you’re one of the lucky ones, Angelica,” Clary said. “Now come on, Leah, no more chatting, we’ve got work to do.”
“It’s just like the convent.” Leah flashed Angelica a white grin, bright little sparks of mischief in her melancholy eyes.
When Angelica walked into the splendid drawing room with gilt stucco work on the ceiling and around a pair of very beautiful gilt mirrors almost the size of the wall, she found Jake staring up at the portrait of his mother. For a moment she hesitated to approach him, sensitive to the feelings that surrounded Roxanne. What was he thinking of? Loss? How beautiful she was? How much he resembled her? How very different his life would have been had she lived? It must have taken a lot of inner strength to have survived his harsh up-bringing with his spirit intact.
She was just about to retreat when he turned abruptly, his brilliant amber eyes moving over her from head to toe. “What took you so long?”
She answered with comic gravity. “You’ll have to learn patience, Mr. McCord. Actually I wanted to have a word with Clary.”
“Ah, yes!” He turned to face her squarely, his mother’s painted image for a backdrop.
What a piece of work is man, Angelica thought, lost in admiration. He looked stunning in a collarless cream linen shirt and deeper-toned trousers, the light colour playing up his dark golden skin and bronzed hair.
“Clary’s as taken with you as my stepmother and sister,” he told her as though she may have developed a practised charm instead of inheriting it in the cradle.
“So tell me, are you feeling better about me?” she asked, with a little challenging smile.
“The points are going up,” he assured her. “I know I love that dress.”
“Why thank you.” She dropped a perfectly balanced little curtsy.
“Are you going to dance for us later?” he asked suavely, his eyes alive with mockery.
“You mean, flamenco?”
“You are sporting that personality surely?”
“Gypsy’s in,” she told him airily. “It works for me. Actually I’m more interested in one of your employees.”
“Oh, hell no!” He turned about.
“Why do you say that?” she asked in astonishment.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait for you to tell me.”
“Listen, it’s Leah,” she said. “Leah helps Clary in the kitchen.”
“Why thank you for that helpful piece of information, Miss De Campo. I do know Leah.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t give me much of a chance. Leah is very gifted. She was wearing an outfit that I’d fancy wearing myself.”
“See if she’ll sell it to you,” he suggested sardonically.
“You don’t understand.” She clicked her teeth in exasperation. “She designed and made it herself. She’s good. I know about these things.”
“I’m prepared to believe that. I’ve never seen anyone with so much oomph.”
“Can I help it?” she countered. “The thing is, I’d really like to do something for her.”
“I’m not going to stop you,” he answered mildly. “Leah needs help. She’s lived a hard life.”
“And you rescued her?” She loved him for being kind.
“My God, years too late!” He sounded angry the young aboriginal woman had had to suffer so much pain and distress. “You’ll know from Clary she has a child.”
“Kylee. At least she has someone to love,” Angelica said thankfully, moving to where he stood, again experiencing a sensuous arousal that was becoming familiar. “Your mother was a glorious-looking woman,” she ventured gently, looking up at the painted golden eyes as she had not been invited to before.
“Spoken by a woman who could pass for Venus?”
“You think so?” A little pulse was beating up a storm in her throat.
“Oh, for God’s sake, you know you’re beautiful,” he said almost roughly.
“Why do you make that sound like it’s just another thing you hate about me?” Provoked, her reaction was nearly as fierce as his. He was such an unpredictable man.
“I’m just worried you’re going to use it on me.”
“On you?” she asked with scorn. “I’d have my work cut out.”
“That wouldn’t stop you trying.”
“In another minute I’m going to slap you,” she warned, a non-violent woman aroused.
“What did I tell you? You’re a real powerhouse,” he scoffed, unperturbed.
“You’re not exactly…normal, either.” Not with all those hard, glittery edges.
“And what is your definition of normal, my Angel?” he asked, looking so deeply into her eyes her mind spun. “A man who falls instantly under your spell?”
“You’ve already figured that out.” His expression softened miraculously, became almost indulgent. “Why any minute now we’ll have a full-blown argument. Our first. I’m sorry. My mother did teach me manners. You’re not exactly a guest, but you’re under my roof.”
“And I have my reputation to think about.” She turned her attention back to the portrait, staring up at the lovely, luminous face. “You remember her well?”
“I remember some things very clearly. My father was different then. It was the suffering that made him bitter.”
“It must help you to understand that,” she said. “It would have been terrible for him to lose the young wife he adored. And in such a way.”
“One of the worst things in life,” he answered sombrely.
“And for you to lose your mother,” she added, thinking how it must have been for a small thoughtful child.
“I survived,” he told her in a closed-off voice. “Nothing like a touch of the whip to keep you on course.”
“It couldn’t have been so easy for Stacy and Gillian, either.” She was acutely aware of the tension in him. “Women can sometimes seem so much more vulnerable to the lack of love.”
“You appear to know a whole lot about my family.”
She coloured at his tone. “People have a tendency to confide in me.”
“You think I might fit into that category?”
“How could you when you don’t even have a basic trust?”
“True.” The golden-amber eyes traced a course over her face, throat, to the swell of her breasts. “How did you finally get rid of Trevor?” he asked very softly. Too softly.
She shivered. “I sent my brother Bruno along to explain the situation. I think I told you, Bruno is six-six.”
“Yes. That’s over my head.” He gave an appreciative laugh. “What does Bruno do?”
“He’s spectacularly talented like me. He’s a sports commentator. He’s on TV. He’s great-looking.”
“I can well believe that. Italians are a very handsome people and you show your heritage.”
“A heritage I’m very proud of. When we were kids people used to think we were twins. Anyway, Bruno put the fear of God into Trevor.”
“So how did you get involved in the first place?” he asked so abruptly he might have wished to trip her up.
“I told you, but you don’t want to believe it.”
He shrugged a wide shoulder. “Oh, I want to believe it, Angel, but I really require a little more than your maidenly protestations.”
“Your cynicism knows no bounds. Why exactly? Why are you so wary of women or is it just me? Why are you being judge, jury and executioner?”
“In all likelihood I want you to be as good as you’re beautiful,” he surprised himself by admitting out loud. “To answer your question, I don’t exactly know why I’m so hard on you. And it is you. I’ve never been like this before. Maybe it was the way I was raised.” He looked back up at the portrait of his mother. “I never got the chance to know my mother well. All I’ve had is a portrait of a beautiful woman, forever young, and a few precious memories. I’ve idealised her so I guess I see a woman who moves me in those terms. Can you understand any of that?”
The seriousness, even the strange appeal in his expression, made her tremble. “Yes I can. You’ve put your mother up on a pedestal and you expect the woman you want to occupy that lofty position, as well. That presents a dilemma when life is full of pitfalls.”
“So you’re saying even a woman of honourable intentions can be led astray?” He hated the suavity in his own voice, the cutting edge, when God knows he wasn’t what he really intended.
“You can’t eradicate Huntley from your mind, can you?” she said, almost sorrowfully. “Probably in the wake of such a dysfunctional childhood and adolescence you back away from powerful attachments. Any excuse might do. The very fact you’re not married—”
He held up a lean hand. “Stop trying to push the buttons. You’re not here to tell me how to live my life.”
“I’m trying to help you.” She laid a hesitant hand on his arm. “Moreover I’m trying to help myself. We should be able to talk it over. I don’t want one unsavoury incident to spoil any friendship that might be possible between us. But you give me the impression you think I’m the sort of woman who might hurt you.”
“Cut me to ribbons?” Unexpectedly, as though she were a princess, he lifted her hand, barely brushing a kiss on her silky skin. Then his velvety eyelids came down heavily over his big cat’s eyes. “We’ve talked enough about me, Angel. You can try to redeem me if you like.”
At his touch excitement raged through her. “It’s a challenge!” she admitted huskily, seeing the dare in his shimmering glance. A glorious challenge! But was she ready to take it on?
Very slowly, he put a finger to the shallow dimple in her chin. “And you’ve a high rate of success.”
“What do you want to hear?” She stared back at him, willing her heart to settle. “I’ve had plenty?”
I don’t want another man touching you, he thought, his expression turning stormy. She was so beautiful, that abundant hair flowing around her face and over her shoulders. Her eyes were as dark as night but when she laughed they were filled with little flickering stars. He wanted to kiss her deeply, lavishly, with all the passion that beat in his blood.
“I never believed in a witch until I met you,” he said, thinking what it would be like to keep her forever.
“Yet you still call me Angel? I have to tell you no one else has called me that.” It seemed important to bring the fact to his attention. “You need to think about that, Jake McCord. Because I can’t be both.”
The Honourable Charles Middleton turned out to be a very charming young man, carefully dressed for the occasion in a long-sleeved blue shirt with a blue-and-navy-striped tie and jeans that sat neatly on his lanky six-foot frame. He had floppy blond sun-streaked hair, and his fine English skin was perfectly tanned. His eyes in contrast were a heavenly blue. He stared at Angelica, an incredulous expression in those eyes, as if she were a sight he hadn’t been prepared for. “Delighted to meet you, Miss De Campo,” he said enthusiastically, as if he wouldn’t have missed meeting her for the world.
That earned him a hurt look from Gillian, only as he wasn’t looking in her direction he missed it.
Jake didn’t. Not that he was terribly surprised. Angel was enough to distract any man.
They found their way into the dining room, Charlie exclaiming how delightful it was to be dining there. Usually the family used the smaller informal dining room overlooking the large swimming pool Jake had decided to put in. Angelica had seen it that very afternoon, amazed by the great profusion of blossoming bougainvillea spilling over the roof of the stone pool house.
“This room has such perfect proportions,” Charlie said, lifting his blond head. “It reminds me a little of the dining room at home. I expect it’s the decorated ceiling and the panels on the walls.”
“Now then, Charlie, you know the dining room at home is at least twice as big,” Jake said dryly.
“Well it was the banquet hall at one time.” Charlie gave him a quick, boyish grin. “There’s an immense fireplace in the drawing room. My sister and I used to think it looked like a tomb.”
“You must miss home, Charles?” Angel asked. Although his name had been cut to Charlie, he was actually much more a Charles in her opinion.
“Oh I do, but I love it here. As someone from a small country, it fascinates me. Australia is so vast. One can travel for days and still be in the same state.”
Gillian held out her hand. “You must sit beside me, Charlie.”
“Yes of course,” Charles agreed at once, smiling almost conspiratorially at Angelica.
Dinner went wonderfully well. Charles was an easy conversationalist. He had read widely
, travelled widely and was very intelligent. He didn’t seem to be attaching the same significance to their friendship as Gilly was, Angelica thought with a little lurch of dismay. The station was so isolated Gilly had little chance of meeting and mixing with eligible young men. Small wonder she had fallen so hard for the handsome Charles.
Leah brought in the entrees, serving quietly and efficiently, giving Angelica a little over-the-shoulder smile as she left to return to the kitchen.
“Does she really have to wear a dress like that?” asked Gillian.
“I love it.” Angelica looked up, surprised. “Don’t you?”
“I think a uniform would be more suitable. Father would have insisted she wear one.”
“Don’t let his snobbery wear off on you, Gilly.” Jake spoke quietly, aware his half sister had picked up some of their father’s more sorry traits.
“Actually she’s a very interesting and charming woman.” Without realising, Charles added fuel to the fire. “She paints, as well, adding to her gifts. I’ve bought a few of her paintings. She sells them for a song. I’m very drawn to them. She uses such vivid, stylised patterns, which obviously mean something.”
“They go far beyond decoration,” Jake added. “The designs are important. They represent, symbolically, the great ancestral and mythical beings. What I noticed of the design of the dress she has on was magic in nature.”
“Really?” Angelica was fascinated, turning her dark head to look straight into his amber eyes. She wanted him to continue but she was aware of Gillian’s discomfort.
Gillian cut in, looking stunned. “You’ve bought paintings off Leah?” She rounded on Charles as though the news had shattered her.
“Gilly, I’ve often told you how talented Leah is,” Jake said quickly, trying to head her off. “You can’t have been listening.”
“Probably you should look at Leah’s paintings yourself, Gilly.” Charles tapped Gillian’s wrist in a series of rapid, gentle movements. “She’ll show you if you ask nicely.”
“I don’t intend to ask at all.” Gillian all but turned up her pert nose.
“Your loss.” Charles laughed it off. “I bet she’d show them to you, Angelica.” He looked at Angelica across the gleaming table, a bright light in his blue eyes.
