by Margaret Way
“Then use it to your advantage,” he clipped off, more fiercely than he had intended but he was so afraid of losing her. “Use your expertise to straighten out fact from fiction, Skye. Gran is eighty years old. She’s caught up in the taboos of her day. Medical geneticists have known for a long time there’s no harm in first cousins marrying, no strong biological reason. Royalty did it all the time. There are far higher risks associated with inherited diseases and disorders within a family. Children can be born with very serious problems from the healthiest of parents. It’s well documented.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” she said sharply. “You’d marry me knowing I could be your first cousin?” She shut her eyes tightly as if to block him out. “Is it possible your Uncle Jonty’s blood is beating in my veins?”
“It’s possible, yes,” he said flatly. “But highly improbable. I prefer to go on my gut feelings. I have never at any time had a feeling of overstepping any boundary.”
“Boundary?” Outrage overcame her and she began to thump his chest. She wanted to make him see her pain and the devastation her father would suffer if such a thing was true. It couldn’t be allowed to happen. “You want me, Keefe McGovern. Are you telling me want makes it all okay? After all, you always get what you want.”
“Okay so I finish up the bad guy!” There was a steely glint in his eyes. “One small crack in the edifice and your lifelong love for me disappears.”
“Maybe that part of my life is over,” she said wildly. “Magic to mayhem! Your Uncle Jonty my father? God, no!”
“Stop it, Skye. Please stop now!” He trapped her flailing hands, holding them fiercely tight. “I know what a shock this is for you. Spare a thought for me. I’ve had some bad moments myself, trying to absorb it.”
“So you’ve had a hard time. Imagine that! For all I know, you could have been harbouring these suspicions for some time, suspicions that have caused you to back off then come on strong. The see-saw effect,” she said bitterly. “I see it now. You and your grandmother have nurtured a terror I could be Jonty’s child.” Her beautiful face was a mask of pain and outrage.
“I assure you Jonty never entered my mind.” He gave a short, hard laugh. “I’m no liar. Not even you get to call me one. So you can apologise right now.”
She stared into his daunting face, seeing he, like her, was deeply disturbed. “Okay I’m sorry, but I’m in despair. So you don’t think Uncle Jonty. That leaves Dad. No one else, is there?” Frightened, she flashed onto something quite macabre then she began to pull away from him, the colour completely gone from her face. “Who else, Keefe?” She waved her hands about in agitation. “No, that’s too, too crazy! Could you possibly have believed even for a split second it might have been your father?”
With an oath, he swooped. “If I did confront such a fear,” he confessed harshly, “I swear it hovered in my mind for just that, a split second. My father was a great man. An honourable man. I admit I’ve had moments of wondering who your biological father might be if not Jack. We all knew so little about your mother and her past. There was no openness as there would have been with anyone else. What was the big mystery? We were left trying to shift around the pieces of a puzzle. Could it have been someone out of your mother’s recent past? Someone she had fled? Never for me was it someone with a McGovern face. Only Gran managed to convince herself you’re Jonty’s child. There’s no proof. Gran jumped to conclusions. As a lawyer you know that’s no way good enough. There must be proof.”
Skye’s heart shrivelled. “Your grandmother is a highly intelligent woman. A mother and a grandmother. A woman with a lot of experience of life and human nature. She must have seen my mother and Jonty together. They must have been together often. My mother stayed at the house. She lived with the family on and off. I’ve rarely thought about your Uncle Jonty. I wasn’t even born when he died. He played no part in my life, though I knew his was a tragic story. But no more than my mother’s. My dad has always been there for me. And he is my dad.” She broke off in acute distress. “God knows what he’d do if he was told otherwise. I think he’d just ride off into the sunset and never be seen again. He worshipped my mother. He adores me. No. Absolutely no! Keefe, your Uncle Jonty is not my father. Jonty is dead.”
Gently but very firmly Keefe held her, upset by the tremors that racked her body. Her suffering tore at his heart. “A DNA test would expose the truth.”
She broke his strong grasp. Using the sheer force of her anger and outrage, she flew to her feet. “You think for one moment I’m going to go up to Dad and say, ‘Listen there’s a chance I’m not your daughter, but Jonty McGovern’s’?” There was so much emotion in her voice it broke. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he dropped down dead. I’d have to get out of your life, Keefe, before I destroyed my father’s.”
Here it was. His greatest fear spoken aloud. The destruction of their love. “You think I’d let you do that?” He too shot to his feet, towering over her. “Do you really think I would make you so unhappy? I love you, Skye. We have to work this out together. No way will I let you leave me. But tell me honestly. Don’t you at least want the truth?”
“Do you?” she lashed back. “What if your heir—our child—is born with some defect?”
His handsome face turned to granite. “Such a child would be accepted, loved and cared for,” he said sternly. “Use your educated mind, Skye. You’re not of my grandmother’s generation. Why do you suppose the most highly civilised countries on earth allow cousin marriages? Anyway, that’s not my thinking. You’re not my cousin.”
“Then who the hell am I?” she shouted, seriously overwound.
“You’re Jack McCory’s daughter.”
“So why do you always call him Jack instead of referring to him as my dad?’ she challenged, blazing hostility in her blue eyes.
Keefe was forced to recognise the paradox. “I’ve always called him Jack,” he answered, knowing it sounded lame. “What else would I call him?” he fired. “Now, that’s enough!” He hauled her back into his arms. “I’ve flown all the way to see you. To speak to you.”
“You’re a fiercely busy man, after all.” She pushed wildly against him, feeling shame that right in the middle of it she was seized by sexual longing. She wanted him so badly she felt mortified.
“Don’t turn hostile, Skye,” he begged. “Either you love me or you don’t. Either you’ll be my wife or you won’t. Are you listening?” He shook her lightly. She was all eyes with shock.
She broke off, exhausted, like a boxer pitted against far too formidable an opponent. Outclassed. Outweighed. Slowly she raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Oh, Keefe, what are we going to do?” This was the man who had taken her virginity. But hadn’t she given it up to him as though it had been ordained? She’d had him inside her. Inside her body. Inside her heart. Inside her mind. She couldn’t love another man. Not after Keefe. There would only be Keefe. Yet never in her wildest dreams had she seen Jonty McGovern as anything but a McGovern tragedy.
“The best way out of this is to get Jack’s DNA,” Keefe said, in a calming tone of voice. “No need to ask him. The effects, as you say, could be tragic. We test your DNA against his. He wouldn’t have to know. Ever. We could gain, Skye, not lose. You’re convinced Jack is your father. I’m convinced you’re not my cousin. Why don’t we allow our intuitions to reign?”
She thought that at any minute she might faint. “Don’t secrets trash lives?” she said with great sorrow, feeling the full brunt of this last revelation. “Your grandmother felt she had a duty to me. But she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge me. I was Jack McCory the overseer’s little daughter. She wasn’t going to have illegitimacy darken your door. A blemish on the splendid McGovern record. McGovern money paid for my fine education. I’ve always been asked up to the house. But never acknowledged, for all her beliefs. And to think she’s functioned all these years believing me to be her granddaughter.”
“Oh, Skye!” he groaned. What his g
randmother had done was beyond him.
She gave him the saddest smile. “The McGoverns are such snobs.”
“That would be very worrying if it was true,” he said shortly. “My grandmother did what she thought to be right.”
“If that had have been me, I don’t think I’d have been able to function at all. Turning your back on your dead son’s child?” Her voice trailed off.
“Only you’re not!” he said with far more conviction that he actually felt. “Gran is an old lady. She has lived by her lights. We have to leave it at that. No point in heaping blame on her frail shoulders. I’m sure she has suffered in her way. The irony is she got it all wrong. She would never have seen Jack as a suitor for your mother. Jonty, on the other hand, would have been. It’s a class thing, as you claim.”
“Don’t I know it!” She heard the bitterness in her own voice. “So how do we go about this thing?”
“You could leave it to me.” Tension was in his body, the slant of his taut cheekbones, the set of his chiselled mouth. “A hair from Jack’s head would do it. Easy enough to get.”
“Like some horrid soap opera.” She held a hand to her pounding head.
“No soap opera, Skye. This is real life. We have to know the truth. Whatever it is, it changes nothing between us. Jack need know nothing.”
“Because there’s nothing to know!” She whirled away.
“Don’t ruin what we have.” He was on her in a heartbeat. ‘I love you. I need you. I want you. There has to be a resolution. We’re living in an uncertain, unresolved present. We must look to the future. I won’t let the past rule our lives.”
She didn’t even try to strain against the cage of his arms. Hunger for him had gained ascendancy, flooding her veins with sexual heat. She took a deep shuddering breath. “Let’s face it, your power over me is too complete.”
“No more than yours over me!” he countered fiercely, rapidly becoming blind to everything but his need for her. He was ravenously, painfully aroused. “Nothing and no one will take you from me and you know it. Let me love you. Don’t struggle. Nothing else makes sense.”
She leaned heavily into him, feeling deep down in her body the little jolting currents of electricity. “You win, Keefe,” she said in a subdued voice. “You always win. Do what you want.”
“Do we have an option?” He stared down at her with such naked desire her senses reeled. “It’s this not knowing that is complicating our lives.”
Her blue eyes were ablaze. “I love you, Keefe McGovern,” she said emotionally, “but if any harm comes to my father, I swear I’ll disappear from your life.”
“Don’t say that.” He put an urgent finger to her lips. “You’re in shock.”
“Certainly I am.” She was possessed by a sense of foreboding. “But I mean what I say. Whatever the outcome, I want your word my father is to know nothing.”
“You have it. Need you ask?” He didn’t want to be angry with her—she was distressed enough—but he was.
“You don’t have to do anything,” she said, coming to a decision. “We’re talking about my father.” Her whole demeanour had changed. “I have a case before the court. There should be a ruling mid-week. I could get a colleague to stand in for me if I had to. That way I could fly back with you. Spend the weekend with Dad. Be back in the office late Monday.”
“If that’s what you want. I’ll arrange a charter flight to fly you back. No need then to lose time changing planes.”
“Good, then that’s decided.” She spoke crisply, on the surface in charge of herself. What lay beneath was searing confusion.
“I didn’t say it was a good plan.” Keefe kept his eyes on her. “It’s the only plan.”
“Well, my heart isn’t in it.”
“And you think my heart is? Jack is the key to unlock the secrets of the past, Skye, not Gran.”
“Yet your Uncle Jonty must have been in love with my mother,” she reasoned. “At least seriously attracted to her. Your grandmother would know.”
“You think I haven’t considered that?” Keefe’s tone was terse. “He probably was. But, God, he was just a kid. They were both a pair of kids. Maybe they were just flirting with each other. It was Jack she turned to.”
“You mean she knew she had no future with Jonty.” She didn’t bother to hide the raw pain.
“I don’t mean that at all.” He shook his head, clearly upset.
Yet she persisted. “My mother was a protégée of your grandmother’s. What was she doing meeting up with a station hand?”
Keefe was careful to answer. “Love will find a way. We know that.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“It’s the best I can do,” he said, his expression taut. “Getting Jack’s DNA will provide us with an answer once and for all.”
“Dad’s birthday is at the end of the month. I’ll say my surprise visit is an early birthday call. God, I could weep for the lie!” she said poignantly.
“It’s not wrong to do this, Skye.” He was losing the battle to bank down the tumult in his blood.
“So back to Djinjara. Home, sweet home! Only I’ve never felt like I had a real home.”
“It takes a woman to make a home. You’re the woman to make a home for me. For us. For our children. If you’re not as strongly committed to your life as a lawyer as you’d once thought, you’ll have an opportunity to forge another career as a photographer. I’ll give you all the help you need.” His hands began to move over her, every caress eloquent with desire. “In the end there’s only you and me. It’s always been like that. If it turns out you’re my cousin, so be it! No one will stand in our way.”
She let her head fall forward onto his chest. “You want to believe, Keefe,” she said quietly. “So do I.”
“Look at me.”
She raised her head, her long lashes sweeping down on her cheeks. She was sick of it all. Sick of the torment. Her need for him was causing ripples to run the length of her body. Keefe’s mouth descended hungrily on hers…
He was the most heart-breakingly ardent and masterful lover…
All else was silenced.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HIS back wedged against a tree, Scott lit up a cigarette, took a deep drag, all the while watching Jack through a veil of blue-grey smoke. They had spent all day at the toughest, most back-breaking work of all, driving the cattle out of the lignum swamps. Most of them had clean skins, not many bore the Djinjara brand. A couple of rogue bulls got clean away. They could be picked up another time. The weary stockmen were sitting about on fallen logs, talking quietly among themselves and gulping down scalding billy tea. The Chinese cook had big thick slices of freshly baked damper ready for them, smothered in either home-made jam or bush honey. Ugh! Unlike Keefe, he liked to sit apart from the men, welcoming his own company. He lifted his eyes to the blindingly blue sky. A falcon was floating above the yarding area, nearly motionless on an upper current. Bonding with station employees had been left out of his make-up. Come to think of it, he was, by and large, a loner by nature. Either that or he wasn’t into friendships. A psychological profile might even categorise him as an outsider.
Outsider or not, he had fantasised about Skye more times than he could remember. Even when he was with Jemma, it was Skye he held captive in his arms. Why were Keefe and Skye spinning their wheels about the possibility of being first cousins? As far as he knew, it was perfectly legal for first cousins to marry. He knew quite a few second cousins within landed families who had married and raised healthy broods of kids. No, it was McCory they were worried about. How McCory would react. He knew their overseer to be physically brave. He pitched into the most difficult and dangerous of jobs. He was an excellent overseer, much admired among the nation’s top cattlemen. It was his mental state that might bring McCory to his knees.
Once he knew.
Scott drew the cigarette smoke deep into his lungs. He would wait until sundown, and then follow Jack to his bungalow for a little chat
. Jack would be most surprised to have him for a visitor. It had never happened before. Keefe was due to fly in before noon next day. That’s if he could drag himself away from his precious Skye. At that moment Scott would have given anything to have what his brother had:
Skye McCory.
Don’t do this, a warning voice started up inside his head. Don’t do it. Up until this point you haven’t done anything really bad.
That was the decent half of him talking. The McGovern half. But he knew as he continued to stare across at tall lanky Jack McCory, laughing amiably with the men, that he was going to do it. He had a vengeful streak, so raw and bitter it even stung him. His brother could have any woman he wanted. With Skye out of the way, the competition might have a chance. Think of it that way. It seemed incredible to him that his Uncle Jonty had mated with that other troublemaker, Cathy-Katrina, whoever she was. But such was the power of a beautiful woman. They could turn a man into a hero or a villain. He could justify his actions on the grounds of pushing his beloved brother back from the brink. And he did love Keefe. It was Skye he hated. Skye who had looked at him with scorn and contempt in her eyes. No woman was allowed to do that. This was the only way he could figure out to split her and his brother up. That overheard conversation between Keefe and their grandmother had been handed to him like a gift. Gifts needed to be opened up…
Rachelle met her in the entrance hall, hostility naked in her dark eyes, her chin upthrust at an arrogant angle. “You’re here to see my grandmother.”
Skye nodded, studying Rachelle with a hint of pity. The sooner Rachelle made a life for herself the better. She was twenty-six years old. She had never held down a job in her entire adult life. It wasn’t that she lacked intelligence, even high intelligence. Rachelle lacked any real purpose in life. Sad but true—money often robbed the inheritors of wealth of drive.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Rachelle burst out, feeling as though she was under a microscope. If the truth be known, underneath it all she felt admiration for Skye and what she had achieved. Not that she was ever going to show it.
