by Margaret Way
Colour stained her high cheekbones. “You mean when you take over? Are you trying to tell me it’s a possibility?”
He looked angry at the question and the deep resentment in her tone. “I don’t have to tell you running a cattle station involves excessive hard work seven days a week. I don’t know how you’ve been able to keep it up but it can’t last. It will steal your youth and your strength. You need help Darcy. What’s more, you’re going to get it.”
“Dad has elected you the new Boss.” She brought out bitterness like a weapon.
“Give me a break, Darcy.” They were at it again. “I’m not going to ruin things for you. I’m going to help you.”
“Wouldn’t I be lost without you?” She was becoming increasingly angry and confused.
“Well we’re sitting here together, aren’t we?” he shot back.
“So it seems.” Darcy tried to get a rein on herself but the pressure was too much. “Would you like another cup of coffee?” she asked bleakly.
“Please. It’s excellent.” He presented his empty cup, thinking what he was saying was having little effect.
“You were the one who brought the beans back from the city for me,” Darcy reminded him, refilling their cups. “So let it out. What have you got to say that’s going to surprise me?”
Curt didn’t beat about the bush. “You know your father’s views. He is without question a chauvinist.”
“Yes,” she answered sharply, betraying her worry over what was coming.
“In the original will you were the sole beneficiary apart from a few minor bequests.”
“I know.”
“You were right in thinking your father wants to acknowledge Courtney.”
Darcy sighed deeply. “She is his daughter. I have no real problem with that providing she has no say in running Murraree about which she knows nothing.”
“Your father wants to set up a trust fund.” Curt took a long swallow of the hot steaming coffee and set down the cup.
Darcy’s aquamarine eyes flashed. “A trust fund. C’mon?” she jeered.
“He doesn’t think you could run Murraree by yourself. You can’t, without help. I know you’re that realistic. His big concern, however, is you and Courtney will become targets for unscrupulous suitors.”
“So he wants to set up a trust fund with you the trustee?” Darcy looked angry, contemptuous and humiliated all at the same time. “I knew it. He wants you to run the bloody place.”
“I knew exactly your reaction.” He too gave way to anger.
“When you come right down to it, who else?” She shoved her plate away. “You’re the right man for the job.”
“You mean I’m the last person you’d want in the job?” He leaned a fraction closer tall and rangy with those wide shoulders. “The last man you’d want.”
“Why should I have you or anyone?” she demanded to know.
“Because you need someone better than Tom McLaren, your present manager,” Curt ground out. “Tom’s a good man, experienced at what he does, but he can’t take control, much less do your father’s job. It’s your father’s station and it’s your father’s money. You’ll be a rich woman when he dies. Better yet, a free woman. So will Courtney. Though as I understand it you’ll have the lion’s share.”
“I should bloody hope so,” she swore again without apology. “I can imagine Courtney will be thrilled. She’ll probably decide to come out here to inspect her property. She might even bring my mother and her second husband. After all, they’d have nothing to fear anymore. Dad will be gone. How does this trust fund work?” Her slanting eyes with their winged black brows glittered her anger was so apparent.
“The usual way. The trustees, probably three, two from Maxwell-Maynard—”
“Adam?” she interrupted.
“He’d be a good choice.”
“You being in charge of course. You’re the man to take control.”
He gave her a look of total exasperation. “This wasn’t my idea.”
“I wonder?”
His handsome features tightened into severity. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said sharply. “I expect an apology.”
“Okay. I apologise.” Her voice was so brittle it crackled. “I wasn’t thinking about your splendid ethics. Correct me if I’m wrong. You hold the reins. You make the decisions. You decide what Courtney and I as beneficiaries get. I have to go to you cap in hand whenever I want something in relation to the running of the station.” As she spoke she shoved back her chair and stood up, beginning to pace about the kitchen
Curt was unsurprised by her anger. He studied her willowy figure clad in its everyday garb of tight fitting jeans and T-shirt. Today it was a bright scarlet T-shirt that suited her complexion, the manufacturer’s logo stitched across the front in navy. She had small, but beautifully shaped breasts, just the right butt and long legs for jeans. The kind of body that made riding gear look damn near haute couture. “Take pity on me. I’m not spoiling for a fight.”
“Well I am,” she said fierily. “Murraree is none of your business.”
“If you were a horse you’d have your ears flat against your head and you’d be baring your teeth. As usual, you’re not thinking about me. Why should I want more work? The fact of the matter is, if your father doesn’t appoint me he’ll find someone else. He told me so in no uncertain terms. That’s what swayed me. Do you want someone else? All I’m going to be, Darcy, is a guiding hand. A friend. Nothing more.”
“It’s an outrage. It’s awful,” Darcy cried.
“Don’t look so martyred. You’re not being thrown off.”
Darcy ignored him. “I am an experienced, responsible woman, not an idiot. I grew up on a cattle station unlike Courtney who doesn’t know a thing about it.”
“Spare yourself a lot of grief, Darcy,” Curt advised her. “Don’t fight your father on this. He’s determined on taking this course. His aim however much you disagree is to protect his fortune. Courtney mightn’t be as level-headed as you.”
“This document doesn’t even exist,” Darcy said hopefully.
“No, but Jock wants the lawyers back.”
“He could die at any time,” Darcy looked skyward. As if her father had already taken off on wings.
Curt sighed. “I’ll bet whatever you like he survives until after a carefully prepared will is drawn up.”
“I could argue he wasn’t of sound mind.”
“I doubt you’d get anyone to agree with you. I didn’t fly over here this morning to do your father’s bidding and in doing so anger you. Jock is set on his course. He has a perfect right to do whatever he wants with his money. And with Murraree. It’s a wonder he doesn’t want it sold up after he’s gone. He’s of the opinion he’s the last of the line. No woman could run the station on her own. It’s killing work. Your husband according to Jock might well be a waster.”
Reluctantly Darcy returned to her chair, a wash of tears over her eyes. “Maybe the reason for this decision is Dad is now reconciled to the notion I might end up marrying you?”
“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” Curt said with a flash of contempt. “However, for all my unbridled lust which so frightened you, I never got around to asking you to marry me though I went to the city to buy you an engagement ring. Don’t look so shocked. Some fiancée you’d have made never trusting me. These days there are just too many suitable girls around without your problems and unresolved conflicts. But at a professional level I think we could work together very well.”
She blinked furiously, fighting the impulse to do something—anything—to relieve the intense pressure his admission had put on her. An engagement ring? My God! “I’m dead against this,” she said.
“Tell your father.” Curt was acutely aware of her sense of betrayal. “That’s if you’re prepared to thoroughly antagonise him. I hardly think Jock McIvor is the man to change his mind once it’s made up.”
CHAPTER THREE
IN THE middle o
f the broad flight of stone steps leading up to the homestead’s verandah, stood a small graceful figure.
Her sister.
A few feet behind her, impressively tall and elegant, Adam Maynard, the solicitor, his dark hair in the sunlight glossy as a crow’s wing. Adam had arranged the charter flight from Brisbane. He would be staying a few days. The young woman, enchantingly pretty, moved forward blindly. Tears flowed from her large azure blue eyes.
“Darcy!”
Darcy’s heart gave a great jolt that wasn’t apparent from her sober expression. It wasn’t hard to reconcile this lovely apparition with the image of the ten-year-old-girl Darcy carried in her head. Her sister, Courtney, was still the image of their mother.
Darcy put out her hand. “So you finally got here, Courtney?”
Courtney ignored the outstretched hand and the cool, regal demeanour. As a little girl she had adored her big sister. She ran up the steps and hugged her sister hard. “Oh, Darcy! Oh, Darcy!” she cried, like she had been drowning and Darcy was her saviour.
Though it cost her the greatest effort for she too was in a highly emotional state, Darcy remained enormously guarded. She gazed over her sister’s blonde head—she couldn’t have been more than five-two—at the lawyer. “How are you, Adam?”
“Fine, thanks, Darcy. And you?”
“A bit shaky. Dad’s life is hanging by a thread.”
“It must be very difficult for you, Darcy,” Adam said, feeling an uprush of sympathy for this gutsy young woman whom he had come to admire. At the best of times he found Jock McIvor a devious, controlling sort of man but clearly Darcy loved him so there had to be some good in him.
Adam stood there, allowed his perceptive dark eyes to record the momentous meeting of those two young women parted for so long. Physically they couldn’t have been more different. Darcy, taller than most women, slim as a reed, athletic, long shining dark hair pulled back in the familiar thick plait and those incredible slanting aquamarine eyes; her younger sister Courtney her blue eyes huge with tears as adorable as a Persian kitten with all a kitten’s cuddly charm. She should have been intimidated by her older sister’s manner—Darcy was on her home ground—but there wasn’t the slightest awkwardness about her. She appeared genuinely overcome by emotion, thrilled to be reunited with her sister.
It could, however, be an act, Adam found himself thinking cynically. He had seen a lot of duplicitous behaviour over the past years. Especially from the beneficiaries of wills. Remarkably Jock McIvor still clung to life, claiming he wouldn’t shut his eyes forever until he had seen his daughter, Courtney once more. This could be Courtney’s big chance to effect a highly rewarding reconciliation.
“Come in,” Darcy invited, extending her arm. She might as well have added, since you’re here. She glanced at her watch. “Curt is flying in. He should be here soon. There are matters he wants to discuss with you, Adam, I understand?”
“We do have things to discuss,” Adam confirmed looking back over his shoulder towards the jeep. A station hand had been detailed to drive them up to the homestead from the airstrip. Now this man with the bow legs of someone scarcely ever out of the saddle, was setting several pieces of luggage on the circular drive.
“Don’t worry about your things, Adam,” Darcy said. “Gordon will bring the luggage up to your rooms.” Darcy’s eyes touched on her sister briefly when she really wanted to stare and stare, familiarize herself with Courtney the adult. “Dad is anxious to see you the moment you arrive, Courtney. I expect you’d like to freshen up first?” She already looked as fresh as a newly sprung flower.
“Thank you, Darcy. My heart is pounding.” Courtney stared tentatively into the shadowy cool of the house. “I can’t believe I’m here. It’s like the recurrent dream I had for years. I still have it from time to time. But this is reality!”
For a fraction of a second Darcy felt like bursting into tears but she’d been too well trained. It would take quite a while for her to re-trust her sister again. “How many years is it?”
“An eternity,” Courtney replied, impetuously sliding her hand into her sister’s. Just like the old days, Darcy thought, stiffening against the warm soft pressure. “I’ve missed you all my life.”
Darcy needed all her strength to resist that gentle grasp. “You handled it,” she pointed out in a dry tone. “So what was the big problem? Did your mother forbid you to come out here? She might have been able to when you were a child. But you’re twenty-four.”
“All that wasted time,” Courtney acknowledged the resistance in her sister’s hand by letting it go. “The answer is simple, Darcy. Our father didn’t want me here. He made that very, very, plain.”
“Really? Haven’t times changed.”
“At the end people do change, Darcy,” Courtney said quietly. “The prospect of death is bigger than even Jock McIvor it seems. He must want to make amends.”
“It would seem so.” There was no bitterness in the way Darcy said it. In truth, though she was at great pains to hide it, she was trembling with emotion inside. Her little sister was lovely, immensely graceful, feminine in a way she could never be. Courtney wore a very chic white ruffled shirt with little insets of cotton lace and turquoise detail, turquoise cotton jeans with a pretty belt slung around her tiny waist. Her hair was cut medium short and brushed into a sunburst of curls around her small featured face. Her expression was as sweet as Darcy remembered. There was a purity about her that was extremely engaging.
Yet her sister had betrayed her, Darcy reminded herself. Who wouldn’t come running when they were offered a few million dollars?
“This is beautiful! You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.” Courtney wandered in a kind of dream around what had been her mother’s bedroom. Her parents had never shared the master suite. That had been their father’s exclusively not that their mother had been relegated to a lesser suite. Although this bedroom wasn’t as huge as the master bedroom it shared the same splendid view of the home grounds with the magnificent pink lady waterlily lagoon. It was filled with a collection of French furniture and many beautiful things that to Courtney’s dazzled eyes had never been moved since her mother’s time.
Sunlight streamed in from the verandah across the Aubusson rug, the soft silks and brocades, the Louis chairs, the pink roses in a porcelain vase.
“You’ve never used this room?” Courtney asked her sister gently.
“Why would I?” Darcy returned more sharply than she intended. It was because inside she was so upset. “I had to try to forget I had a mother. It was hard work.”
“Mum wasn’t the villain, Darcy.” Courtney hung her head. “She left here in despair. We both did.”
“You left though, didn’t you?” Darcy went on the attack. “You didn’t take me with you.”
“Don’t you think we paid for it?” Courtney moaned softly. “Dad was a dangerous man. Surely you’ll allow that? Mum was very fearful of him.”
“So how did she manage to get away? Not on her own, either. With you!”
The tears weren’t far from Courtney’s eyes. She couldn’t get over how beautiful her sister was. And how angry. “Mum told me right from the start she was only allowed to take one of us.”
“Naturally it was you,” Darcy said in a deeply disturbed voice. “The ten year old version of her mother.”
“Dad made the choice for her.” Courtney whispered it, as though it was too painful to be said out loud.
Darcy’s gem coloured eyes flashed. “I don’t believe that.”
“I believe Mum.” Courtney shook her golden head. “She was scared of him, Darcy. I remember he used to take out his temper on her. You must remember too, because you were the one who risked sticking up for her. Lots of people were scared of him. You saw him through different eyes. You could do all the things I couldn’t do. You were the one Dad wanted. Make no mistake about it.”
“That’s what your mother wanted you to believe.” Darcy lifted a shaky hand to rub at her temple. It wasn’t
the time now to lose all faith in her father.
“She’s your mother too, Darcy.” Courtney reminded her.
“She’s a hard, uncaring woman!” Darcy said in ringing tones. “She threw me away like a rag doll when I most needed her.”
Courtney gave a profound sigh. “Mum must have been desperately unhappy in her marriage. We were too young to understand. Dad ruined life for her. She was in an awful situation. She believed she could get away with the two of us but Dad is a vengeful man. He must have convinced her he’d destroy her if she didn’t leave you behind.”
Darcy laughed that to scorn. “What was she so afraid of? He couldn’t commit murder.”
“Who knows what he had in mind,” Courtney said, obviously believing anything to be true. “I was a child, Darcy. Younger than you. I didn’t understand anything. I’d done nothing wrong.”
“Neither had I.” All these years she had borne the scars. Courtney, at least, had had the loving comfort of their mother. The gentleness, the female tenderness and sharing. Whatever her deep feelings for her father Darcy knew she hadn’t had that.
Courtney was unashamedly crying. “Mum lost the battle, Darcy. She was right to be afraid.”
“So afraid she left me in the firing line,” Darcy countered passionately. “Why did she let you come out here now?”
Courtney took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose, as Darcy expected, daintily. “She could hardly stop me. I live my own life. I share an apartment with a girlfriend, but I see Mum and Peter all the time. Mum didn’t want me to come. She tore up the letter the solicitor sent me. She didn’t want me to have anything to do with Dad even when he was dying. I don’t think she really believed he was dying. Like it was all a trick to get me here.”
“So why did you come? The money? I guess Dad owes you. You are his daughter.”
“I came to see you,” Courtney said simply. “I wanted desperately to see you more than anything else in life. You’re a woman and you’re so beautiful.” Courtney’s blue gaze was full of the old love and admiration.
