The Outback Engagement

by Margaret Way

  “See you later then.” Darcy turned and moved quietly out of the room.

  “Don’t like me much do you, Curt?” McIvor rubbed a hand still rough with a lifetime’s callouses against the smooth sheet.

  Understatement of the year. “You’ve never done anything to make me like you, Jock. Then I don’t think it has ever mattered to you if you were liked or not.” Curt brought up a chair to the bed.

  “Your dad didn’t care for me either. I suspect your parents thought I was responsible for Marian’s running off?”

  “Were you?” Curt asked bluntly.

  McIvor’s frown was fierce. “She threatened to destroy me if I didn’t let her go.”

  “How could she do that?” Curt struggled to understand.

  “She knew where the bodies were buried.”

  “I didn’t know she played any role in your business affairs?” It was well known McIvor barely recognised women outside their sexual desirability.

  “She didn’t play any role,” he huffed. “Didn’t have a brain in her fluffy blonde head. Like all women.”

  “That’s not true, Jock,” Curt said. He wasn’t about to start an argument with a desperately ill man. “Women just didn’t get the opportunities. They were kept busy raising children. Anyway your own daughter gives the lie to that. Darcy’s had increasing input into the station affairs. I’d trust her anytime.”

  “That’s because I trained her.” McIvor coughed and tried to get his breath back. “But she’s a woman. Women are weak, vulnerable. They’re putty in a man’s hands.”

  “No way does that apply to Darcy.” Curt fixed his eyes steadily on McIvor’s. “She knows how to take care of herself.”

  “That’s because I’m around.” McIvor, the confirmed chauvinist, was convinced of it. “What about when I’m not? I’ve got a lot to leave, my boy. I’ve looked after my affairs so well. Darcy will sure as hell be a mark as an heiress.”

  “Perhaps she will but she can handle it,” Curt returned confidently.

  “You sure about that? Life’s a bloody jungle. She’s been protected so far. The two of you have grown up together. I know you’ve got strong feelings for her.”

  “Which you did your best to crush,” Curt didn’t hesitate to say. “You’ve been absolutely against Darcy and me but it’s much too late to talk about it now. What were you about to suggest, Jock? We do a complete about face? I marry Darcy to protect the most important thing in the world to you? We all know what that is. Murraree. Only neither Darcy nor I could be bought out.”

  “It might turn out that way all the same,” McIvor was moved to predict, his bitter expression betraying he was not entirely coming to terms with it even when he was dying.

  “Why don’t you cut to the chase, Jock,” Curt suggested, feeling like getting up and walking away. “What have you really got me here for?”

  McIvor gave a dry cough, trying to ignore the pain over which he had no control. “Now, now, remember I’m a sick man. No matter what you say, you make it your business to look out for Darcy.”

  Curt admitted as much with an abrupt nod of his head.

  “She must be protected.” McIvor gave another harsh cough. He stared past Curt’s mahogany head to the portrait across the room. “I have to settle my life, son. Do you understand that?”

  “Of course I do.” Curt was straightforward with his answer. “I understand from Darcy you now wish to consider Courtney?”

  McIvor swallowed on a throat that was perpetually parched. “Some women find it the simplest thing to give a man sons. Others can only manage giving a man in my position daughters.”

  “Hang on, Jock, are you sure of that?” Curt pressed.

  “Don’t listen to rumours, son. They’re not true. I have no son, a curse which even now when I’m dying I can’t adjust to. Your dad was the lucky one.”

  “My dad lost his life prematurely.” Curt commented sombrely, still grieving for the father he idolized.

  “I know and I’m sorry but he had you. He had an heir to take over the reins.” McIvor’s grey face was thwarted and angry.

  “You have Darcy,” Curt answered him. “Tom McLaren is a good manager. Darcy has friends. She’s much admired in the community.”

  “Course she is, but she’s a woman. Running a big cattle station is a man’s job. It’s endless back breaking work. You know that. Then she’d have to cope with the men. They behave when I’m around, but there are those that eye her off. I see ’em. If they ever went near her I’d shoot ’em. Darcy is an Outback woman to the core. She loves the land like we do. She’s the eldest, the first born. She’ll get the lion’s share.”

  “I should hope so. She deserves it,” Curt looked closely at the dying man. McIvor was so unpredictable.

  “Always on her side,” McIvor snorted. “It’s a bizarre relationship you two have. I almost regret now the things I’ve done.”

  Curt almost laughed aloud. “I’ve always blamed you, Jock. Make no mistake about that. But to get back to why I’m here. You want to draw up a new document recognizing Courtney? Is that it?”

  “Yes.” A shudder shook McIvor’s wasted frame.

  “Are you all right? Clearly you’re in a lot of pain.” Curt half stood up.

  “Maybe a drink of water.”

  Curt poured it, assisting McIvor to drink. “I was thinking of a trust fund,” McIvor managed eventually when he was resting back on the pillows. “I want you to play a part in that. Trustee now your dad’s gone. I would have asked him.”

  “Jock! Do you want to give Darcy another reason to resent me?” Curt groaned. “She can handle her own affairs.”

  McIvor looked back with genuine scorn. “In my judgment it would be best if a man like you kept a careful eye on things.”

  “There are good reliable responsible professionals who could do that.” Curt argued. “Your solicitors Maxwell & Maynard. You should be discussing this all important issue with them. I would have thought time was critical.”

  McIvor frowned. “I wanted to talk to you first. No matter what you think of me—what I’ve done—and I admit I took every opportunity to cause trouble—I trust you. Besides you Berengers have more than enough money and property of your own. Maybe things between you and Darcy went sour but I’ll stake my life—what’s left of it—you’ll look out for her.”

  Curt’s expression was not encouraging. “Why didn’t you discuss this with Adam Maynard when he was last here?”

  McIvor beetled his brows. “He’s not a favourite of mine. He’s not one of us. You’re the man I trust. You’re a cattle man just like me and you’re familiar with the whole situation. Darcy needs you as an adviser, a man who can help her plan for the future. I don’t want to see all us McIvors have worked for go down the drain.”

  “That I understand.” Curt nodded his agreement. “But let me get Darcy in here, Jock. You wanted my advice. That’s it. Get her in here. Don’t leave her in the dark. She’s not a child. She’s a responsible adult.”

  McIvor pressed back against the pillows. “I can’t handle it,” he barked, looking pathetically ill. “Darcy being Darcy will launch into one of her little tirades. Don’t think she’s not above telling her own father off. I’m not saying she doesn’t have the business acumen to handle the McIvor fortune if it weren’t for the fact she’s a woman. You know as well as I do men stalk women with money.”

  Curt knew better than most inheriting a fortune was a heavy responsibility. “So you figure setting up a family trust will protect Darcy and presumably Courtney?”

  “Who’s probably a complete ninny like her mother and just as beautiful. There’ll be plenty of men around to exploit her. Mark my words! There’s marriage, divorce. These things happen. Hell, I should know. Some bloody con man could go off with my money. No wonder there are prenuptial agreements. It’s the only way to go.”

  Curt forced himself to sound as calm as possible. “So Darcy and Courtney are the main beneficiaries?” He wondered if there weren�
�t somebody else in the woodwork given McIvor’s numerous liasons.

  McIvor cleared his throat several times. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely.

  “The trust administers the estate and apportions income to your daughters. You’d have to decide how much.”

  “They’ll have enough!” McIvor muttered irritably.

  “I think you should line up another couple of trustees,” Curt suggested.

  “Okay, okay.” McIvor waved a withered hand. “I’m telling you Curt it’s the only way I’ll die happy. I need a man of impeccable reputation who has more than enough interests of his own to act as the main trustee and executor of my estate. I believe I’ve come up with the right man. You. And if you won’t do it I’ll have to get someone else,” he added with grim determination. “Someone who mightn’t always act in the best interests of the beneficiaries.”

  That forced Curt to reconsider. McIvor’s expression told him he meant exactly what he said. “Jock, you’re putting a lot on me. Darcy won’t like this idea.”

  “It’s not Darcy’s money!” McIvor glared, his voice suddenly strong. “Murraree belongs to me. If she wants to make trouble she mightn’t be named as a beneficiary at all. Now I’m tired,” he announced gruffly. “Get that dratted Ainsworth woman in here, will you? She’s plain, poor bitch. No woman should be as plain as that and she stinks of disinfectant. I don’t want to hurt Darcy but I won’t tolerate any stubbornness. Explain that to her.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  CURT left McIvor’s bedroom feeling like he was wading through quick sand. The nurse was hovering nearby and he lost no time telling her Mr. McIvor was in need of his medication. He then went in search of Darcy, finding her in the kitchen, washing a head of lettuce at the sink.

  “Ham and salad okay?” she asked in a way that suggested her mind wasn’t on fixing lunch at all.

  “Fine.” His voice too came out more clipped than he intended. “Make it a sandwich and a cup of coffee, Darcy. I have to talk to you.”

  “Of course you do and from the expression on your face you know I won’t like it. Dad is selling Murraree to you. At the right price, of course.” Although she was joking Darcy’s golden skin had turned pale. Anything was possible with her father.

  Curt gave a harsh laugh. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “That’d be one for the books!” The kitchen was enormous and very old-fashioned. Like the rest of the rambling old homestead it was badly in need of updating and refurbishing. For all his money McIvor was notoriously tight fisted. “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want Murraree, Darcy,” he said, aware of her loss of colour. “I have enough on my hands.”

  She shook her gleaming head. “You wouldn’t knock it back if it came on the market?”

  “I’m not getting into any hypothetical discussions. Come here and sit down.”

  “I’ll make you a sandwich first. The coffee will only take a minute. I’ll put it on the stove.” For a few moments neither spoke as she worked quickly putting together a plate of ham and salad sandwiches. “So what did Dad suggest?” she asked finally, setting the plate before him along with a clean white linen napkin.

  “This looks good,” he said, realizing he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since dawn. “You’re going to have something surely?” He looked up at her.

  “I seem to have lost my appetite.”

  “You can’t afford to. You’re downright skinny.” The expression in his green eyes changed, as they travelled over her.

  Sometimes he slipped back into doing that so the blood raced through her veins. “Why do you do it, Curt?” she asked, thoroughly rattled.

  “Call you skinny?” he half smiled.

  “You know darn well. Look at me like that?”

  He sat back, considering. “Well apart from being skinny you’re just beautiful even with a pigtail hanging down your back. I can’t remember the last time I saw your hair out.”

  “You do too,” she reminded him shortly. “The last polo ball.”

  “That’s right. Damn near a year ago. Sunset hosts it this time around. I remember you spent most of the night with Rob Erskine,” he referred to a member of his team who had always been painfully in love with Darcy and unbeknown to him had actually proposed to her.

  “So I did.” She shrugged. “While you gave Beth Gilmour the best night of her life. Both of them now out of the picture.”

  “Oh yeah?” he mocked. “I saw Beth only the other day.”

  “Actually she’d make you a good wife.”

  Curt gave her a disgusted look. “We’ve been through this before, Darcy. I’m allergic to having a wife picked out for me by you!”

  The tantalizing aroma of perking coffee filled the kitchen. “You always taunt me about my single state. Why can’t I have a go at you?”

  “Taunt away,” he invited, waving a careless hand. “You, my dear Darcy, are an open book. You want a review? It’s as I always tell you. You’re terrified of giving your heart away. You construct defences that make you feel safe, presumably against loss. Unfortunately loss is inevitable in life. You’ve been a victim. That’s why you’re compelled to act as you do.”

  “You should have taken up psychiatry.” She raked an escaped lock of hair off her face.

  He shrugged. “Anyone could see your conflicts.”

  “Loving you a woman could get hurt badly.” She risked a glance at him, determined to keep her sensual self closed off when obviously she couldn’t.

  “A woman meaning you. Don’t sound so miserable. Eventually you’ll work it out. I just hope you don’t leave it until your child bearing years are over. I think you’d make a great mother. I see you when you’re around little kids, teenagers come to that. Remember those so called problem kids we took on at Sunset last year? They thought you were great. You handled them so well. Firm but gentle, ready to listen, encouraging them. You interacted better than anyone else. Including my mother. I recall an eternity ago I had high hopes for us.”

  For a few seconds she had difficulty continuing with what she was doing. Her hands shook. “I wouldn’t have been good for you, Curt. Nor you for me. We’d have ruined each other’s lives by now. I thought we’d established that.” Once she and Curt had been lovers—one of those great desperate romances that ended very badly. There was danger in even stirring over the ashes.

  Determinedly she switched the conversation. “So what did Dad say?”

  The corners of Curt’s firm mouth turned down. “That’s right, change the subject. I messed up, didn’t I? I should have made allowances for your insecurities instead I frightened you away. Maybe you saw it as self-preservation. But Darcy, I thought you were ripe for loving.”

  She sought sanctuary at the kitchen sink. “Was I wrong or did we take our loving to extremes? If you’d asked me to run off to the other side of the world with you I would have. Then what would have happened to Dad? It was bad enough trying to keep all my feelings locked away despite having plenty of experience.”

  “Don’t you realise the fact you felt compelled to lock your feelings away indicates a serious problem,” Curt asked with a hint of severity. “Your father has been the cause of much unhappiness, Darcy. I think you provide the clearest illustration.”

  The truth of that gripped her. “Please, Curt, let it go. It’s all ancient history anyway. I might look tough but underneath I’m mighty vulnerable.”

  “You’re telling me? You project your mother’s problems on to yourself. As far as looking tough? You might be a fighter, Darcy, but look tough, you don’t. I’ve had so much time to consider. You ran from me because you felt threatened. Is that it? You never attempted to explain. Poor mug me, was on top of the world. I just floated through life then, on Cloud Nine. I know you were frightened of your own sex drive let alone mine. Anyone would think our lovemaking had corrupted you.”

  She could never forget the intensity. “It was incredibly passionate.” She lowered her head, not allowing him to see her eyes. “Maybe I thought your idea of me wasn’
t the real me. How could you have professed to love me so much? You could have had anyone. All the blue-blooded society girls. Not tormented old me. I was paralysed by the fear you’d eventually cast me aside and I needed to get out before then. Maybe what you’re saying is true. I can’t differentiate between myself and my mother. What happened between us got way out of control. Isn’t the word passion derived from the Greek penthos to grieve? Strong passions can cause suffering.”

  “So your answer was to escape? I never knew you were such a coward.”

  “There’s lots you don’t know,” she said, suddenly wanting to run. “How could I cope with being Curt Berenger’s wife? Now that’s a big job. Who knows some time down the track I could be sent packing.”

  He put his hands flat on the table and stared at her. “It all comes back to your own family. I don’t care to be lumped in with your father.”

  Darcy shook her head. “Aren’t you both alpha males?”

  He reacted vehemently to that. “The only similarity is we’re both cattle men, extraordinarily successful at what we do. In your father’s case, did. I do not have a callous hand with women. I am not a womaniser despite your quite insulting ideas. I am not bloody mean and shockingly selfish and I’m fairly certain I don’t have the reputation for being a bastard. I’m intelligent, good natured and dare I say it, attractive. You’re the only woman I know who goes into panic mode at the very sight of me. Don’t bother denying it. I can see through the smoke screen.”

  “Maybe you can,” she expressed a sigh. “But what’s in it for us, Curt, but high risk? For a while there you had me body and soul. It’s something I can’t allow.”

  “Fearless in so many ways, timid in others,” he accused.

  Darcy shook her head. “You say timid. I say keeping myself together.”

  “You won’t stay together long with all this hard physical labour,” Curt retorted. “And for goodness’ sake, sit down.” He waited until she did before resuming. “What you do is much too hard for a woman though your father has allowed it. It has to stop. It will stop.”