The Outback Engagement

by Margaret Way

  “Maybe a hundred,” she said, forcing flippancy. “All designer label, all very very expensive. You know I don’t get much opportunity for wearing dresses, Curt.”

  “Invent them,” he suggested standing off a little to survey her. “You’ve no idea what a change it makes from your usual gear.”

  She flicked suds at him. “It must be Courtney’s influence. She’s started me thinking.” In more ways than one.

  “I’d love her for that alone,” Curt said with such feeling it further confused her. “That’s a beautiful clasp you’ve got in your hair but it would look better out.” With a deft movement so characteristic of him he undid the gold clasp and put it down on the table.”

  “Now see what you’ve gone and done,” Darcy cried, as her thick gleaming hair fell all around her face. “I can hardly see the dishes.”

  “Here, let me.” Sensing she was emotional he took over.

  “It’s so funny to see you washing up,” Darcy managed after a little while. “The great Curt Berenger. I’d love your polo team to see you now.”

  “Who would care!” He slipped another dish into the rack. “I’m not above doing the washing up now and again.”

  “You mean on the occasions you come over here?” she asked wryly.

  “Your father always made sure he was in attendance.”

  “Didn’t he now!” she said in a voice that broke.

  “He was terrified of losing you.” Curt finished off the last dish then wiped his hands. “That would well and truly have broken his pride. Hey, you’re not crying, are you?” There was much concern in his voice.

  “I’m definitely not crying.” She turned her head away grateful her hair formed a protective veil.

  “Then look at me. I was only teasing, Darcy.”

  “I know,” she murmured bleakly.

  He turned her back towards him, tilting her chin. “You’ll get past all this trauma. You’ll lead a wider life. You’re brave and strong. You’re beautiful too. So beautiful.” He took her face in his hands, his voice like black velvet. “Kiss me. I’m not moving until you do.”

  Heat flushed through her body. “Someone might come,” she warned, staring back over her shoulder as though Courtney and Adam were about to beat down the kitchen door.

  “Easy, Darcy! Let them come. You’re not getting off.”

  She could feel the naked electricity crackling between them. Enough to light up a town. “That’s a threat?”

  “No threats. A challenge.” His voice mocked, but the expression in his eyes made her heart flutter violently.

  “Then a kiss you shall have.” Incredibly she answered, her blood filled with sparks. “But a quick one.”

  “Can you make it last five or six hours?”

  “No. It’s not as though you don’t know where these kisses lead.” Despite that, knowing what she knew, she placed her hands upon his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin. She tilted her head, feeling the heavy silk of her hair afloat against her nape. His hands were moving so slowly down her back, pressing her against him. The excitement was mounting with every moment. Frantic energy. Yet her kiss was very gentle, as delicate as she could make it. Gossamer light. The tip of her tongue ranged over his lips, tracing the sensuous outline. Such a beautiful mouth he had. She remembered exactly where to place the kisses.

  Again and again.

  Bliss all around them, the scent of the exquisite native boronia, warm sand beneath them, sunlight falling in filigreed chinks through the thick screen of trees. Her heart doing backflips…

  A man’s voice. Curt’s. His breath rasping in his throat.

  “Oh, you’re unpredictable, Darcy. What are you doing? Playing games?” He threw back his head so he could stare into her face.

  “You used to like games?” she asked in a voice so seductive it couldn’t possibly be hers. In reality it was fuelled by her anxiety Curt could become interested in her sister.

  “So I did.” His green eyes glowed like crystals. He lowered his head and this time he did the kissing.

  She clung to him throughout, needing no other thing but him. His hands were clamped on her hips holding her lower body to him. They sizzled where they touched. Heat pouring from their skin.

  The kiss grew deeper and deeper, drawing a little moan from her. She felt the ache in the pit of her stomach as muscles began to contract. His hand found the contours of her breast taking its soft weight. Desire began to weigh her down. Lovemaking like this called for a bed.

  “Sleep with me,” he muttered urgently. “I’ve had enough of memories.”

  Who knows what she would have answered if there hadn’t been a distraction. She was coming inexorably to a major turning point in her life. It was time to explain what had driven them apart. Absolve him from his guilt.

  Only from out of nowhere she heard Courtney’s voice reverberating. “Well, not me, thank you, very much!”

  She sounded angry.

  “Bloody hell!” Curt groaned in frustration, coming out of his trance. He dropped his arms from around Darcy’s slender body. “The tour of the garden obviously didn’t go well.”

  “We’d better see what’s the matter.” Distractedly Darcy caught up the gold clasp and bundled her hair into it, aware long coils had escaped around her cheeks and her nape. “Have I any lipstick left?” she asked, flags of colour in her cheeks.

  “The question isn’t about lipstick,” he gritted, “it’s about having sex. You know, making love. I can’t turn my feelings on and off like a tap, okay?” His eyes scintillated in a face taut with emotion. “It might take a little planning. No big deal. No one will find out if you must continue to act the adolescent.”

  “That’s cruel!” she panted, hearing her sister’s voice again.

  “Cruel or not, take my advice, Darcy.” Curt looked like he wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. “Dive right in.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BOTH sisters sat on the edge of their chairs. Both looked and felt nerve ridden. Darcy with her personal life in crisis. Courtney angry with Adam Maynard who perversely attracted her. It was hard to believe her own treacherous feelings. She knew he was assessing her wrongly. Heaven knows she hadn’t come here after her father’s wretched money but when she’d got around to really thinking about it surely he owed her a sizeable chunk? Not half. Darcy deserved the lion’s share, but a decent chunk. In no way had she unfairly wormed her way into McIvor’s affections. No way! Courtney fumed.

  Darcy, experiencing another primitive surge of feminism, studied the two impressive young men ranged opposite them. There they sat in all their masculine glory, supremely self-confident, both appearing quite unaffected by the tense atmosphere in the room. Adam had his legal face on. Curt breathed authority, splendid masculine common sense. Co-conspirators. Practically brothers.

  McIvor, that born trouble maker, watched them all. There was even a twist to his smile Darcy thought. It was something she had just caught sight of.

  “We’ll pick up where we left off, shall we?” Adam asked, smiling at the unsmiling young women who looked both serious and challenging.

  “No need to ease us into it, Adam,” Darcy said. “All I ask is you make it quick and cut the legal terminology.”

  “Right.” Adam began briskly

  There was an air of total unreality about the whole thing. At one point Courtney’s hand stole into her sister’s. Darcy squeezed hard. Neither spoke until Adam had finished reading and explaining the terms of their father’s will.

  By that time Courtney’s head was swimming. She left it to Darcy, the elder, who was trying hard to keep her emotions in check to speak.

  “So the upshot is Courtney and I get $85,000 per annum until we marry?” Darcy questioned, her voice slightly raised. “Presumably someone suitable to you two as trustees, when that amount will be doubled?’

  “No one is going to tell you who you can marry Darcy,” Curt said carefully. “I’m sure everyone here will be hoping and praying y
ou’re not led into marrying the wrong man.”

  “Which is probably why I’ll wait until forty to choose. There’s no question sexual involvement lowers the I.Q. and since women don’t have all that much anyway! We don’t get the money outright.”

  “No.” Adam shook his head. “Your father was adamant on that point.”

  “The capital will be required for the running of the station and your father’s other affairs that were explained to you,” Curt explained. “There’s no upping the annual figure, I’m afraid. Your father’s wishes stand. Personally I think it should be more given the size of the fortune but as trustee and executor I assure you neither of you will need for anything.”

  “I have grave misgivings about that!” Darcy found it obligatory to register a protest.

  “How do you feel, Courtney?” Curt asked kindly. “We all know how Darcy feels.”

  “Shell shocked,” she answered truthfully. “$85,000 annually is a fortune to me, I have no argument with that. But I feel strongly Darcy has been cheated out of her fair share. Can’t we do something about that?”

  Adam regarded her with his unfathomable eyes. “We can, Courtney,” he said smoothly. “Darcy has a good case.”

  “So your tyranny never ends,” said Darcy, staring up at her father’s portrait. “I’m still shackled.”

  “Only if you persist in looking at it like that,” Curt focused on her unhappy face, which he saw as yet another set-back in their stormy relationship.

  “Did your dad shackle you?” Her beautiful eyes flashed. “You bet your life he didn’t. You’re the best son and heir a man could have. You have full authority over everything. There was no keeping you in chains. I can just imagine how you’d react, Curt, if you had to go to trustees cap in hand. No, you’re the glorious male born to handle power.”

  “A man is the one thing you need, Darcy,” Curt retorted, his own eyes sparking. “I understand your frustrations. Your father’s will has complicated both our lives but I had no hand in making it. Neither did Adam. Our task was and remains carrying out your father’s wishes.”

  “I want to do up the homestead,” Courtney suddenly announced, sitting up straight and looking at her sister as though seeking her permission. “Not on a budget either.”

  “Surely you can’t drop everything? You must have to return to your job?” Adam sounded very keen to know. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in the swivel chair.

  Courtney shot him a haughty look. “I want you to know I’ll decide that, thank you, Adam. With your permission, Darcy.” She turned to her sister. “I’d like to stay on for a while. May I? I have extended leave.”

  Darcy let her head fall back helplessly. “Why ask me?” she said with wry humour. “You’ve just learned you get half of everything. For better or worse. That means Murraree. If you want to do up the place go right ahead. It’s okay by me. Whether it’s okay by Curt is another nerve-racking story.”

  “Why don’t we call it a night,” said Curt rising to his impressive height. “What were you thinking of, Courtney? Calling in a decorator?”

  “Sure,” she said. “The house is desperately in need of renovation. I couldn’t do it all myself.”

  “I realise that,” Curt said. “Get some good design people out here. My mother might be able to help you with names. You and Darcy can get all your ideas together. Submit a plan. Costing I understand won’t be exact.”

  “Am I hearing correctly?” Darcy asked, opening her eyes scornfully wide. “You’re actively encouraging Courtney?”

  “I am.” He looked down at her, thinking Darcy always took the hard way around things.” I’m assuming you’re not going to go completely over the top?”

  “Well I never!” Darcy spread her hands wide. “Just so we can be absolutely sure. We don’t have to be stingy with this?”

  “Not at all. The place is in need of restoration and modernizing. The money’s there. I feel heartened you’re going to take an interest, Darcy,” Curt said with a decided lick of sarcasm. “That side of things hasn’t been high in your education.” He moved towards the door. “I’ll say goodnight before you start to pick a fight. I want to get away fairly early in the morning. I do have a station to run forgive me for drawing your attention to the fact. I have to drop Adam off as well so he can hook up with his charter flight for Brisbane.”

  Courtney sat bolt upright. “You’re leaving in the morning?” She met Adam’s dark eyes.

  He arched one black brow. “What’s the matter? Will you miss me?”

  “No!” she answered, fretting for hours afterwards.

  Darcy spent a long time cooling off in the shower. Afterwards she pampered her body in a way she didn’t do often, moisturizing then scenting her skin, brushing her long hair until it crackled. Later she padded around in her bedroom naked except for her satin nightgown, lemon in colour and decorated around the low V neck, down the sides and the split hemline with fine lace and embroidered roses. She had bought it on a mad impulse—she couldn’t tear her eyes from it—on her last trip to Brisbane, over a year ago. She hadn’t worn it thinking it too pretty but tonight she was feeling…too febrile…too sexy. She ached with it.

  She always went too far with Curt, forever on the alert to question his authority when authority came off him in waves. He wouldn’t come. He was fed up with her maddening behaviour. And who could blame him. She shifted to the verandah, enjoying the night breeze on her body. She could feel her skin’s texture against the slinky satin. She gazed out over the moonlit expanse of the garden with its deeply shadowy pockets. The fronds of the palms were just barely moving. She had often felt she needed a huge space to breathe in, now she was starting to feel disconnected. As if with her father gone and Courtney eventually returning to her own world she would be left quite alone. She knew she was in danger of exhausting Curt’s patience, constantly tormenting him with the fears and anxieties that had dominated her life and tied her in knots. It all had to stop. She couldn’t keep dwelling on the past. She had to push into the future.

  Curt had to know the truth before any of that could happen. She would have to find the courage to show him the photographs. When they had been revealed it might make the next part a little easier in the telling. The photographs were taken years ago but they were a big part of her sad story. What would he say? What would he do when she finished her sad recital? Would he pity her for what she had gone through or would he react with anger and disbelief? There was always that danger. There was so much at stake.

  How could you have done this, Darcy. How could you have done this to yourself. To me?

  That sort of reaction frightened her. Darcy dropped her face into her hands. No matter. Curt wasn’t blameless. The photographs proved that.

  She returned to the bedroom going to the Victorian cabinet-on-chest that held most of the things she felt that mattered. Things her mother had left behind. Little pieces of costume jewellery, silk scarves, lace edged handkerchiefs, half finished bottles of perfume, even make-up. There were the lovely little enamelled butterfly clips that once had nestled in Courtney’s blonde curls…bright ribbons…her school awards—she’d forgotten she’d been such a bright student…riding trophies. In the bottom drawer of the chest tucked away in the manila folder they had come in, the photographs that had mortally wounded her and changed her life.

  Why on earth hadn’t she confronted Curt with them? She knew perfectly well why. But she could never speak of it. Even now she couldn’t permit herself to curse her dead father for what he had done. He had been straight forward about it as was his way. He’d set out to prove Curt Berenger wasn’t the heroic figure she thought he was. He was a man like other men with a man’s appetites.

  If I’d misjudged him Darcy I’d feel bad about it. But I haven’t. Look at these! Don’t turn and run. He’s making a fool of you, girl!

  Darcy shook the photographs out onto the bed. She ritually looked at them whenever she could bear it. There were four in all. Large bla
ck and white glossies. Two people were in all of them. Curt and a beautiful girl with a waterfall of long smooth dark hair. In one he was holding her aloft laughing up into her radiant face. In the second they were walking down a street together. He had his arm around her and she was staring up at him with a look of adoration no one could mistake. In the third they were having an al fresco coffee together. She had one hand stretched across the table to him while his whole body inclined towards her. Love showed in every line. The last photograph broke her heart. There was such emotion in it. Curt was hugging the girl to him while she laid her head trustingly against his heart.

  You can bet your life, girl, they had sex together.

  Why had she believed her father so totally? She’d been devoted to him certainly but Curt was the man she loved with all her heart. Curt was the fever in her blood.

  He’s flawed just like the rest of us and it’s taken me, your father, to open your eyes.

  Open her eyes. That was what her father had done. He didn’t shy away from unpleasantness. By the time Curt had left for a trip to Brisbane, supposedly on business for his father McIvor had already arranged for a private investigator to follow his movements.

  She’d said little at the time beyond a stricken, “How could you, Dad?”

  It seems to me it’s my duty, girl!

  Several days later with Curt due home the following week she had suffered a miscarriage when it had never crossed her mind she was pregnant. No morning sickness, no nothing. No change in her breasts. Of course it was early days and missed periods weren’t unusual for her with her strenuous life style.

  She had handled it all on her own. The physical pain. The mental agony. Then when she was able, claiming she wasn’t well—her appearance bore testament to that—she took the helicopter to the Koomera Crossing Bush Hospital where Doctor Sarah McQueen took charge of her. She would never forget Doctor Sarah’s understanding and kindness. She had actually spent two days in hospital trying to heal an unhealable wound. She had told her father it was a rumbling appendix. He didn’t care so long as she was back home.