by Margaret Way
“Out of what? Guilty you’ve been sprung?”
“How charming you are.” She wanted desperately to abandon herself to rage but it wasn’t her way.
“I want you to take me very seriously.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see his father stalking towards them. His father. Almost his enemy.
“Oh, I do.” She shrank away a little, her beautiful eyes darkening with intensity.
“Obviously you’re hugely concerned your father might remarry. It’s even possible you might no longer be heir.” She yielded into giving this taunt.
He stared down at her, discovering he wanted to kiss that mouth. Crush it. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said with sleek humour. “My inheritance is all tied up. Even Dad can’t change it. But keep talking, Rebecca, I want to know your plans.”
“What would be the point,” she answered with cool scorn, shrugging a delicate shoulder. “You’ve made up your mind about me.”
“Well, you’ve been able to do something Ally and I could never manage,” he pointed out very dryly. “You have my father eating out of your hand.” Brod turned his dark head. “Ah, here Dad comes. In which case I’ll excuse myself. I’m sure he’ll take care of you, Miss Hunt.”
Rebecca didn’t think she could get through the night, though outwardly she acted with considerable panache. It was, she realised, her training. She had to meet fear with calm. She wasn’t going to have the opal around her neck, either. She intended to take it off as soon as she decently could. The fact that Stewart had insisted she wear it upset her profoundly and she didn’t blame his son for challenging her so keenly. But why hadn’t Fee warned her? Though now she came to think if it, Fee had acted oddly when they were in the bedroom. Fee could have said,” I don’t think it’s a good idea for Rebecca to wear it,” but on reflection Rebecca knew why. Stewart Kinross was a man of considerable hauteur. There was probably no one with the exception of his rebel son who dared to tell him what to do.
The buffet was as sumptuous as promised, the long tables with their floor-length starched cloths, hydrangea pink and blue, groaning under so much delicious food it was a wonder they didn’t snap with the load. Hams, turkey, chicken dishes, big platters of smoked salmon, seafood airlifted from the Gulf of Carpentaria in far North Queensland, prawns, lobsters, whole baked barramundi, an endless variety of salads, rice and pasta dishes. Hired bartenders handled the drinks, two young waiters circling constantly, the high emotion of the band and its lead singer occasionally drowning all other sound. Couples wandered back and forth between dances enjoying everything that was offered.
Rebecca ate little, though. She was too upset. Instead she spent some time speaking to the Cameron brothers who clearly were too gentlemanly to embarrass her by mentioning the Necklace. Flashes were now going off constantly as most of the guests posed for their photographs to be taken.
Across the room Rebecca saw Broderick Kinross the epicentre of a small group with Liz Carrol holding his hand and smiling brilliantly into his face. Fee was having a great time, too, moving freely from one group to the other, leaving them laughing exuberantly with one of her endless flow of anecdotes.
Eventually she found her way over to Rebecca’s side while nice Michael went off to fetch Rebecca a sparkling mineral water. No way was Rebecca going to drink too much. Her whole life was control.
“How’s it going?” Fee asked with a warm smile.
Rebecca turned her fawnlike neck, and looked Fee straight in the eye.
“Fee, why didn’t you tell me this necklace is never worn by anyone except the Kinross wives?” she demanded.
“Oh Lord!” Fee murmured under her breath, dropping abruptly into a beribboned chair, one of a great many scattered about the beautifully decorated hall. “I really thought Stewart might have told you.”
“Come off it, Fee.” Rebecca glinted at her. “Would I have worn it had I known?”
“No.” Fee shook her head sadly. “Not a nice girl like you.”
“Why couldn’t you have said something. I really hate being made a fool of.”
Fee winced. “I deserve this, I know. But I don’t think I have to remind you Stewart is absolutely master in his own home. He wouldn’t have taken too kindly to my intervention. Besides I blush to admit it I had the teeniest little doubt you might have known. You and Stewart have grown quite close.”
“Good grief!” Rebecca could hardly believe it. “The only feeling I have for Stewart is respect for his position. Goodness, Fee, I’m half his age.”
“I know that, darling, but you forget I’ve seen a great deal. Plenty of young women respond to money.”
“Not me,” Rebecca said flatly.
“All right, all right.” Fee reached over to Rebecca’s hand placatingly. “But I’m worldly enough to divine you’ve suffered a rather bad experience in the past. A broken romance. A sensitive young woman like you might then settle for other things. Security. Safety. You do see what I mean?”
“I still can’t believe it. I’m not settling for anything, Fee. I’m quite happy the way I am.” She chose to think so anyway.
“So if Stewart didn’t tell you, who did?” Fee enquired.
“Your nephew, of course.” Rebecca shot her a shimmering glance. “And he didn’t pull any punches. Boy doesn’t he love to sit in judgement!”
“You can’t blame him, I suppose,” Fee said loyally. She had barely recovered herself.
“Actually I don’t,” Rebecca said wryly, “but I’ve never met anyone so…so…downright hateful in my life.”
“He’s upset you.” Fee’s heavily mascared green eyes looked remorseful.
“It kills me to admit it, yes. He actually believes I’m after his father.”
“Gracious, darling, is that so unusual? Look around you. Half the women in this room and that includes the young ones would jump at the chance of becoming Stewart’s second wife. He’s still a very handsome man and he’s megarich. You know what they say…”
“Power is the greatest aphrodisiac.”
“Exactly, darling.”
“Well it isn’t for me. Not for a moment,” Rebecca said straightening the gold chain on the opal necklace, the centre of all the fuss. “As soon as the moment presents itself I’ll go back to the house and lock it away.”
“Good. I’ll try and join you,” Fee said. “Not that I know the combination to the safe. Perhaps Brod does.”
“Leave him out of it.” Rebecca’s eyes flashed like sun on ice and Fee had to laugh.
“You and he have made the sparks fly between you. I’ve never seen you furious.”
“I’ve no desire to be, Fee,” Rebecca countered earnestly. “I’ve loved being here on Kimbara. I love working with you on our book but I’m not happy with this…situation that seems to have developed.”
“Let me talk to Brod,” Fee offered, looking anxiously into Rebecca’s serious eyes. “The last thing I want is to lose you. We work so well together and having you in the house brings my daughter a little nearer.”
“Of course you miss Francesca.” Rebecca was getting to know all about Fee’s marriage to her English Earl. How she had one child from it, her only child, Lady Francesca de Lyle, a young woman around Rebecca’s own age.
“Of course I do,” Fee sighed.
“She still lives with her father?”
“Not any more. She has a place of her own in London. She works in public relations. Rupert bought it for her. He was alway a wonderful father but Fran visits Ormond House often. Takes her friends. Working on the biography has brought it all back. It grieves me now to think I was never there for my little girl when she needed me. All through her schooldays. I wanted to be but somehow I let her down. I had a brilliant career but it made a great many demands on me and my time. Really it ended my marriage. No wonder Fran worships her father. He was both mother and father to her.”
“But the three of you are all at peace now, Fee?” Very gently Rebecca reached out a sympathetic hand.
&nbs
p; “Oh, yes, darling.” Fee blinked her amazingly long eyelashes. “Rupert has long since remarried. Happily, I’m glad to say. Francesca rings me all the time. I wish I could get her to come out to Australia for a visit. I want you two to meet. Stewart is very fond of Fran. He likes cool, gentle women. I never could keep my emotions under control. Passion always drove me.”
“Which is probably why you’re such a marvellous actress,” Rebecca soothed. “I don’t want you to bother having to come with me, Fee. I’ll slip over to the house by myself.”
“All right, darling.” Fee stood up, pressing her chiffon skirt against her trim thighs. “You might slip the necklace into one of the desk drawers in Stewart’s study. Lock it, take the key. Explain to Stewart knowing its history you were uncomfortable wearing it.”
Uncomfortable doesn’t say it, Rebecca thought, glancing up to see Michael returning with her iced mineral water.
CHAPTER FOUR
AS REBECCA moved into the Front Hall she glanced at the French clock on the rosewood panelled wall. Twenty minutes after twelve. It had taken her all of that time to break away quietly from the guests. The gala evening was still going on in earnest. Another classic Outback gathering though Rebecca doubted many of them could be so lavish. Stewart had planned it all like a military manoeuvre, his organisation first-class. He had even decided on the flowers. Her mind blanked out all for her.
The revelries would go on until breakfast for those who were still standing. She would be really enjoying herself only for the fact Stewart had trapped her into wearing an important family heirloom, thus spoiling everything. What was his reason? To let people know he had his eyes on an attractive young woman he was considering as a potential wife?
It was a great pity he hadn’t taken the trouble to ask her! He simply accepted he could have any woman he liked.
What arrogance!
The magnificent old homestead was very quiet though lights bloomed in all the major rooms and several of the bedrooms upstairs. Rebecca found her way to Stewart’s study with its massive desk and cabinets, its hundreds of books, sporting trophies, marvellous paintings of horses being held by attendants and over the fireplace a large portrait of Stewart’s late father, Brod’s grandfather, Sir Andrew Kinross. It was placed exactly so the eyes followed the viewer around the room.
Rebecca paused for a moment to look up at him. Sir Andrew had been a very impressive looking man. Big, handsome, distinguished. Yes, the family face. But the eyes a clear green were so kind, Rebecca thought. Kind, calm and wise. Stewart’s were filled with power, prestige, control. Those were the things that evidently mattered to him.
Broderick Kinross’s brilliant blue eyes…burned with banked fires. She realised he was awakening in her feelings that could spiral out of control unless she clamped down hard. She had no desire to be caught into some furious dance with the cynical, judgemental, too damned seductive Broderick Kinross. She feared men who exuded such power and virility.
Rebecca moved around the massive desk, leaning against it briefly while she removed the diamond-set opal from her neck in one fluid movement. It had been wrong of her to wear it tonight. She should have risked going against Stewart’s suggestion. She didn’t feel proud of herself. In a sense she was a little overwhelmed by being catapulted into a world of so much obvious wealth. She had never experienced such wealth close up although she had interviewed many a celebrity with millions in her time. Sighing, Rebecca opened the top right hand drawer of Stewart’s desk, placing the necklace gently inside. The light caught all the flashing lights of the large opal, sapphire, emerald, ruby, amethyst all embedded together, the dazzle of the surrounding diamonds.
It occurred to her now she really was a fool. At the far end of the drawing room, surveying the large room was a portrait of a dark-haired woman in a low-cut emerald green ball gown. Rebecca had admired it many times, knew it was Cecilia Kinross, Kimbara’s first bride, painted in the early days of marriage to her kinsman, Ewan Kinross, who had taken up the great selection, the vast pastoral holding, after a big strike on the opal fields of New South Wales. Between the sumptuous gown, the beauty of the subject, the green eyes and wonderful hair, Rebecca’s eyes had not dwelt on the pendant Cecilia was wearing around her neck. At first glance one could have thought the central stone was a sapphire.
She couldn’t have made a bigger mistake if she tried. No wonder Liz Carol had been eyeing her so slyly every time she passed. Every guest without exception would have made the connection. There was no sense in lingering here. She would have to go back to the party.
Head bent, Rebecca turned the brass key in the lock, starting visibly when a voice addressed her from the half-open doorway.
“You know, Miss Hunt, you sure get around. So tell me what’s so irresistible about my father’s desk?”
Broderick Kinross pushed the heavy door open, walked into the study and stared at her.
“It was whatever was handy,” she clipped. “I don’t know the combination to the safe. Do you?”
He raised an eyebrow moving further into the room like she was a wild creature that would spring away at the first noise. “Well I might,” he conceded. “Are you planning to tell how you know exactly where the safe is?”
She shrugged. “Your father showed it to me once. Not deliberately. I just happened to pass his study when he had the safe opened and he called me in.”
He laughed, utterly amused. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Obviously not as you’re looking at me like I was a first-rate con artist,” Rebecca said as though she couldn’t care less.
“So I ask again?” There was a gleam in his eyes. “What are you doing at my father’s desk?”
“Doing what I should have done much earlier in the evening,” she answered very coolly. “I’m putting the famous Necklace away.”
His eyes flashed over her bare white throat. “You couldn’t wait until after the party?”
She looked at him, the brilliant mocking eyes, the hard fine planes of his face, the raven shock of hair. “It’s hard to imagine anyone more arrogant than you.”
“Try my father,” he suggested.
“And you don’t listen when people explain. I had no idea of the significance of the Kinross Necklace. Now I know there’s no way I’m going to leave it hanging around my neck.” If she wanted to be safe it was time to run. Despite the fact he disliked her, a powerful attraction was running between them.
“But it’s too late to undo the impact, Rebecca,” he pointed out gently. “And I’m not buying your story.”
“About what?” They might have been marooned together on an island.
“Women aren’t the only ones to have intuition,” he said. “My intuition tells me you’re attracted to rich older men. I mean it could have something to do with your past life, about which we know amazingly little. You could be looking for a father figure. I studied a bit of psychology. It’s textbook, Freudian stuff.”
“You’re talking nonsense.” She broke his gaze.
“How can I be when I can see it all unfolding before my eyes.”
“I’m going. I’m finding my way back.” If she could get past him.
“Not for a moment.” He moved like a panther to stand in front of her.
“I’ll have the key if you don’t mind.”
She couldn’t make herself touch him so he took it from her nerveless hand. “Thank you. I really ought to dare you to touch me.” He inserted the key in the lock, turned it, opened the drawer, and saw the fabulous necklace within. “I wasn’t accusing you of stealing it, Rebecca,” he drawled.
“It hardly bothers me what you think,” she answered with silky disdain.
“So why are you trembling?” He have her a faintly twisted smile, suddenly wanting to slide his hand around her creamy throat, down her neck to the delicate swell of her breast. She was small enough to pick up.
“I pride myself on behaving well,” she told him. “What I’d really like to do is to take
that smile off your face.”
“That bad, is it?” His tone was frankly mocking. “So what are you waiting for?”
She was so affected by him she almost cried out, Don’t come near me, instead she said with considerable control, “I think you owe me an apology.”
“You’re kidding me, Rebecca,” he answered. “Why don’t we put this in the safe? You’d better point out where it is.”
She allowed herself a flash of malice. “Are you sure your father has given you the combination?”
He turned towards her, lean and powerful. “Tell me where the safe is then try me.”
“Over there.” She backed off, pointing. “It’s behind the picture of The Hunt.”
“God!” Momentarily he covered his eyes. “Dad must be losing his marbles. Come over here, Rebecca and stand by the window.”
She did so borrowing some of his own mockery. “You want me to cover my eyes?”
“That’s okay,” he answered gently. “Just look out at the garden.”
She gave a brittle little laugh. “You’re really going too far, you know. Speaking to me like this.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “And with good reason. As a matter of fact I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
That touched her like an electric shock. She swung about spontaneously just as he was closing the wall safe door. “I had assumed my father was well past falling in love,” he said.
Her mouth curved in irony. “Did you? Then you’ve made an awful mistake. People fall in love at all ages. In the teens, forties, seventies, eighties. It’s well documented. The great thing is to love.”
“Listen, I agree with you.” He moved with his graceful stride towards her. “Who exactly do you love, Rebecca?”
“That’s hardly your business,” she said shortly, but her voice shook. It seemed to her reeling mind both of them were on the edge of the utmost folly. The heavy bronze and glass chandelier overhead sculptured his handsome face with light and shade. His eyes glowed an intense sapphire simmering with arousal. He was beautiful, powerful, in the end to be feared. He could only hurt her.
