Her Outback Commander

“Unfortunately, no.” She lowered her gaze. “I should point out it’s Amanda who is your brother’s widow.”

“Half-brother,” he corrected a shade curtly, again surprising her. Mark had never said. “My mother died of the complications of malaria when I was going on six years of age. She and my father were staying at a friend’s coffee plantation in New Guinea at the time. Both of them had had their shots, but in my mother’s case the vaccine didn’t take. My father, our New Guinea friends, the entire family were devastated by the loss. I still remember my beautiful mother, though those memories have kept changing over time. Hard to forget what she looked like, however. My father commissioned a large portrait of her by a famous Italian artist to celebrate their marriage. It hung in the Great Room. It never came down.”

Not even when the second wife, Mark’s mother, took her place? That couldn’t have been easy for Hilary Kilcullen. Come to that, this cattle baron himself was eminently paint-able. She knew her father could do a wonderful portrait of him, but she very much doubted whether he would be up for a commission.

“So you have a permanent reminder of your mother,” she said with gentle compassion. “I’m so sorry for your loss.

The feeling of being deprived of your mother must never go away. I’m very close to my mother. I can’t imagine life without her.”

“Then you’re blessed,” he said, looking across the small circular table and right into her eyes.

Really looking—as though she was in some way important to him or his agenda.

“And you have both your parents,” he continued. “My father died a few years back.”

Just as Mark had said. She’d concluded Blaine Kilcullen was a man of iron control, but a flash of pain crossed his chiselled features.

“Dad remarried, according to Adeline, to give me a stepmother.” He didn’t tell her Adeline had actually said a ready-made nanny. Everyone in the family knew his father’s marriage to Hilary had been one of convenience, although Hilary, daughter of a pastoralist friend of the family, had long idolized Desmond Kilcullen from afar.

“Mark never made it clear you and he were half brothers. He always talked about you as though you were—well … full brothers.”

“Did he?” He took care to keep his tone even. He could well imagine what Mark had told them all, the damage Mark had done. Not only to him, but to the rest of the family. Mark had near destroyed himself with bitterness and resentment. “Mark was still engaged to a very nice young woman when he took off without a word to anyone,” he said, just to put part of the record straight. “He jumped on a freight plane that had flown machinery into the station, as it happened. From the look on your face you didn’t know about that either.”

“Remember, please,” she said again, “I’m Amanda’s cousin.” She needed to explain her lack of knowledge.

“But you are close?” He resumed his piercing silver-grey scrutiny.

She hoped she didn’t flush. She and Amanda had coexisted rather than ever growing close as she had hoped. The closeness simply hadn’t happened. “Amanda’s parents were killed when she was five. Her parents were returning from a long trip and her father apparently fell asleep at the wheel. My mother and father opened up their home and their hearts to Amanda. Amanda, my brother Emile and I all grew up together. He’s a highly gifted architect and interior designer.”

“So the artistic gift runs in the family?” he said. “May I ask what you do?”

He actually sounded interested. “I manage one of my father’s galleries, and I paint myself. As you say, it’s in the blood.”

“Do you show your work?”

She gave him a sparkling glance. He knew the sparkle was unconscious, but a man could find it powerfully seductive. “I’ve had four showings up to date. Each time they become more successful. I specialize in landscapes, the occasional still-life. My father’s speciality is portraiture, though he can paint anything. Many of his subjects have been very important people, and of course very beautiful women. My father worships a woman’s beauty. I’m not in his league—” she smiled “—but Lucien is wonderfully supportive. Which is not to say he isn’t highly critical when he feels the need. My brother loves Dad but he took off to New York to make his own way in the world. When Emile is home it’s like being around twins—Dad and Emile are so much alike.” She changed the subject, although she could see his interest was unfeigned. “Did you know Amanda and Mark actually met in Paris, not here in Vancouver?”

He gritted fine white teeth. “Sienna, it was Mark’s plan to vanish into thin air. At that time he was a very disturbed young man.” No need to add that he’d had chips as big as desert boulders on both shoulders.

“You don’t want me to press you about Mark?” At her question he gave her a searching look. It was as though he wanted to know everything that went on inside her.

“I think I have summed it up,” he said in a clipped voice.

“Perhaps you should know what he thought of you?” Unforgivably, she was returning his brusqueness.

“Not right now,” he said. “Mark was family. His death matters.”

He had turned the tables on her. She felt ashamed of herself. “Of course it matters. Please forgive me. I only thought it would explain so much about Amanda if I could tell you—”

“That Mark hated me?” His black brows rose. “Sienna, I know. It was a very bad case of sibling rivalry. We all live in isolation on a vast Outback station, yet Mark and I never really connected. We never did things together. It’s hard to explain.”

Not to me, she thought. It was almost exactly her experience with Amanda.

“I was my father’s heir. His firstborn. Mark grew up knowing I was the one who would inherit Katajannga. That’s the name of our cattle station. Not that he had any interest in being or becoming a cattle man.”

Her interest had soared. “That’s the name of your station? Katajannga? How extraordinary Mark never mentioned that.”

“Mark kept a lot of things locked up,” he said sombrely. “There’s a long story attached to the name. It more or less means ‘revelation’, or sometimes ‘many lagoons’ when translated from the aboriginal. One can understand why. After good rains the desert is indeed a revelation.”

Her beautiful eyes, fixed on his, revealed her fascination. “I’m here to listen.”

“When Mark’s wife is not?”

She sat back abruptly, trying to interpret the question. “You said that as though you’re trying to catch me out?”

“Did I?” He didn’t back down.

“I can’t be held responsible for Amanda, you know.”

“Of course not. But I have the feeling you’re covering for her now.”

She released the breath she’d been holding. “Amanda just can’t deal with this now, Mr Kilcullen. Surely you understand?”

Heightened feelings were contagious. “How well did you know Mark?”

A flash of temper put fire in her deep golden eyes. “As well as anyone knew him.”

“An odd answer, surely? Or do you mean his wife aside?”

“Please don’t hassle me, Mr Kilcullen,” she said, sitting straighter.

“God forbid!” A smile tugged at his mouth. “And I insist you call me Blaine. After all, you invited me to call you Sienna. I’m not a monster, you know.”

“Aren’t you?” Mark had really hated him.

He read her mind. “Probably Mark’s exact word. Monster. Should I be offended?”

Colour rose beneath her lovely creamy skin. “I’m just seeking the truth.”

He lifted his brandy balloon, took a mouthful, savouring it before responding. “Sienna, Mark may have seen me that way,” he said tersely, “but I’d like you to keep an open mind. You won’t find anyone from where I come from to hang a label like that on me. In fact anyone who tried to would be in for a hard time. My father was a greatly respected man. ‘The Kilcullen’ he was always called, as his father, his grandfather and great-grandfather before him. He was my role model. I could never let him down.”

Had that made less room for Mark? “I would think your father regarded you as the perfect son. Would you say Mark let him down?” Mark, being Mark, would have done just that. He had certainly let his wife down. “You would have been your father’s golden boy.” She pinned that silvery gaze, knowing she was acting out of character but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was a very provoking man.

“Wrong colouring, surely?” His handsome face relaxed into another half-smile. “Golden boy fitted Mark much better.”

He should smile more often, she thought. It was a stunning illumination. “This has to be confusing.” She focused on a beautiful arrangement of flowers nearby. They would all have to rethink everything damning Mark had uttered about his family.

“It will be confusing when one feels compelled to change one’s opinion. I have a fair idea of what Mark told his wife. And you. He would have told you, of course.”

She took a full minute to answer, not ready for this. “Why ‘of course’? What could you be implying?” She hoped to God she hadn’t flushed. She wanted to keep her explosive memories of Mark private—especially from his half-brother.

“Let’s call it a desire to know what happened to my half-brother. As far as my family is aware you were the one person outside Amanda that Mark didn’t hate or resent in some way. Mark fed on resentment.”

That was her own judgement, yet she felt as if she was being dragged into a deep, murky pond. “Let’s get this straight,” she said. “When exactly did Mark talk about me? More to the point, why? I didn’t see Mark all that much.” Made sure I didn’t.

He tossed back the remainder of his cognac. “Don’t let me upset you, Sienna. None of this is easy. I only mean Mark obviously thought very highly of you. He wrote about you to his mother. That’s if you were Amanda’s bridesmaid and her best friend?”

“I was my cousin’s bridesmaid.” She frowned in perplexity.

“As I thought. Only Mark failed to mention you and Amanda were related. Knowing Mark, I would say it was a deliberate oversight. Hilary insisted on showing me his letter, although I didn’t particularly want to read it or even know what Mark had to say at the time.”

“Well, you could tell me now.” She settled her gaze on him. “The notion that he bothered to write about me at all doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. What did he say? Mark had good-looks, and an easy charm when the mood took him. That would be no surprise to you. But to be painfully honest we didn’t get to be friends.”

“Except Mark didn’t see it that way.” His shapely hand gently rocked his empty brandy balloon. “Not so surprising when one thinks about it. Mark believed what he wanted to believe.”

“Which, in my case, was what?” she asked, with more than a touch of asperity.

“Well, you are a very beautiful woman. And you seem to have been important to Mark.”

She gave an exasperated groan. “If I was, he didn’t share that with me.” She had no alternative but to lie. “What has that got to do with anything anyway?” she asked. “Mark fell in love with Amanda. Mark married Amanda. End of story.”

“Only you know the story, Sienna. We don’t. But I’m more than prepared to listen to anything you want to tell me. The marriage was happy?”

“Why wouldn’t it have been?” she parried. She wasn’t about to tell him there had been lots of crises, rows, Amanda in floods of tears. What good would it do?

He studied her. “The simple answer. I knew Mark.”

She had known him too. “It was happy enough,” she answered, caught up in a swirl of emotion. Even the air seemed charged.

“You were there when he had his fatal accident?”

Memory swept over her. She lowered her head, unaware the light was bouncing off her rose-gold hair. “Yes. Amanda had invited me along.” She had only relented and gone because Amanda had seemed desperate she join them at the ski resort. She still didn’t know why Amanda had appeared so distraught. “I don’t need to tell you Mark had a reckless streak. Amanda and I are experienced skiers. We’ve been skiing all our lives. Mark, very tragically, thought he was a lot better than he actually was. It was a terrible day. Amanda went totally to pieces.”

“But you didn’t?”

Her eyes flashed. “That sounds remarkably like an accusation of sorts.” Her response was just as terse as his question. “I was deeply shocked and saddened, of course, but I was glad I was there. Amanda needed me.” Amanda was one of the neediest young women in the world. But no need to tell him that either.

His eyes lingered on her beautiful face, now flushed with colour. He had angered her. But it couldn’t be avoided. “You do know I’m here to arrange for Mark’s body to be shipped home? I also want to invite Amanda to return with me. She must want to attend Mark’s funeral, surely? And she can finally meet the family. We will, of course, meet all her costs. Do you think she would do that?”

Sienna had to take time before she could answer. “Blaine,” she said in a subdued voice, “Amanda is rather a fragile person.”

“And you’re her anchor?”

“I’ve always looked out for her,” she admitted. “We’ve all deemed it important to look out for Amanda. She lost both her parents at such an early age. I must tell you she couldn’t have found better foster parents than my mother and father. There were and remain kindness itself.”

“I’m sure of that,” he said. “Hilary said your father sounded very kind and compassionate. But you don’t think Amanda will meet me, let alone come back to Australia with me?”

She stopped him by placing the tips of her fingers very briefly over his. It was a totally spontaneous action born of compassion. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Her skin was warm and as soft as silk, yet it sent tremors shooting down his spine. “I don’t want to go back without her.” His expression tautened. “She should want to attend Mark’s funeral, surely? She did agree to our taking his body home. And as Mark’s widow she stands to inherit money. I administer the Kilcullen Family Trust now my father has gone. I can make it easy for Amanda to access her inheritance or difficult for her to gain control of the funds. I don’t think she should escape meeting her late husband’s family at long last. Hilary will welcome her. So will Marcia, Mark’s twin.” He was far from sure in Marcia’s case. Both Mark and Marcia had inherited difficult natures. Not from Hilary, herself but Hilary’s family.

Mark had left them right out of the loop, Sienna inwardly lamented. “Mark never once said he had a twin. He could only be drawn on you.”

Blaine shrugged an impeccably tailored shoulder. His tone was ironic. “I expect there’s an avalanche of things you don’t know. Do you think the trip back to Australia would be made easier if you accompanied your cousin?”

His suggestion rocked her. It also gave her a totally unprepared for thrill.

“That’s if you could possibly spare the time?” he said. “I could hang on for a day or two. As an artist, I think you’ll find our Channel Country has a lot to offer. At the moment it’s boom time. We’ve had record rains over the past couple of years. The desert dunes are thickly clothed in green. There are wild flowers as far as the eye can see. Flood waters have even rolled into Lake Eyre, turning it into the fabled inland sea of pre-history. A number of Australian landscape artists have stayed with us on the station of recent times. And Hilary and Marcia love company.”

“You’ve quite astonished me.” She was unable to free herself from his gaze. It was downright mesmerizing.

“But the idea isn’t entirely unacceptable to you?” Brackets framed his mouth. Amusement? Triumph? She couldn’t tell. He was a man of contradictions.

“Perhaps …” She found herself admitting, “But you don’t know me! I’m a stranger.”

“Oddly enough, you don’t seem like a stranger to me.” The remark was delivered without his thinking, yet it had sprung from deep inside him. More than one switch had been turned on, he thought with a degree of self mockery. He had more than enough problems, yet he wanted this woman to come. He wanted to see her on his own land. He had never remotely expected this. being exploited, perhaps, by a beautiful woman wasn’t on his agenda.

Sienna, ever perceptive, had caught the subtle nuance.

The level of intensity between them had gone up several notches. She dropped her eyes, startled to discover she was powerfully attracted to Mark’s ‘Lucifer’. Attraction was beyond anyone’s control, she excused herself. It simply happened. Often when one least needed it to happen.

“So many things we’ve lived with without knowing,” she said ruefully.

“There are things that you need to know. Amanda, you, your family who raised her. Surely you all thought it extremely odd that Mark didn’t reach out and at least invite his mother and his twin to his wedding?”

There was a fraught pause. Sienna stared back at the beautiful flower arrangement, seeking a moment of calm. “Of course we did!” Her tone showed more upset than she’d intended. “Especially in relation to his mother. We didn’t know about Mark’s twin. But it was Mark’s decision. Amanda did everything he asked of her. She fell blindly in love with him. As you’ve guessed, things changed.”

“And they’ve changed even more drastically now Mark’s dead,” he said, his expression sombre. “He can no longer dictate his widow’s actions. She’ll be given an opportunity to find out what Mark’s family is really like. As you’re so close, I’m hoping you’ll be able to persuade her, Sienna. And there is the money,” he added somewhat dryly. “What exactly does Amanda do? I’m assuming as she and Mark were childless she has a career?”

She could hardly say, as was actually the case, that Amanda shared Mark’s aversion to work. “Mark didn’t want Amanda to take a job during their marriage. She had to be there for him at all times.”

“I see.” He didn’t look surprised. “And what did Mark work at?”

She took a deep breath. “This and that,” she said evasively. “He found jobs easily in the hospitality industry.

That seemed to suit him. What does it matter now? Mark always had money. We assumed he had private means.”

“He had a bottomless well,” Blaine announced in a very crisp voice. “His mother. The mother he didn’t want to see. But he was quite happy to take her money. As far as I’m aware—I could be wrong—my stepmother kept in fairly constant touch with Mark.”

“She would have wanted to, as his mother. The whole situation defies belief! But it’s really none of my business.”

He made a jeering sound. “Oh, I think it is. You’re here, aren’t you? You’re standing in for your cousin. You obviously protect her. If Amanda needs to be talked into coming back with me, I would say you’re the one to do it. You’d be very welcome to come too—as in Amanda’s case, with all expenses paid. You would be doing us a huge favour. The past has to be washed clean. All the things that were kept secret brought out into the open. Much healthier that way.”

“I can’t work miracles,” she said, averting her head.

Her profile was exquisite. She was a very beautiful woman. But there was nothing threatening in her style of beauty. She had been born with natural charm. “So much for the migraine!” he returned, very coolly.

She felt hot blood flushing through her. “She’s in pain,” she burst out. “She did love him, you know.”

He responded bluntly. “Only—very sadly for Amanda—he fell out of love with her. If indeed he was ever in love with her. Mark lost interest in most things very fast. He left behind him a young woman who believed he loved her. They were engaged to be married. Mark’s mother was convinced Joanne would be the ideal young woman to lend Mark much needed strength and support. He rejected it from the rest of us. Joanne is a fine young woman. Our pioneering families have always been close.”

“So chances are Joanne will hate Amanda? If she comes to the funeral they will come face to face.”

“Time has passed, Sienna,” he offered, with a spread of his elegant tanned hands.

“Not enough time, I would think. A wounded heart can’t heal overnight.”

He studied her wonderfully expressive face. “You sound very sure. Has anyone wounded your heart?”

“Of course. A little,” she said lightly. “I’m twenty-six, but no real heartache to speak of. I’m prepared to wait for the right man to come along. And what about you, Blaine? You’re good with the questions. What about a few answers? You’re not married?”

“Finding the right wife would be a whole lot easier if I had more time,” he said. “If you visit the station you’ll realize I have a big job on my hands. We all thought my father was going to live for ever. He was such a force! So strong and powerful. It was unbearable to see him struck down. It changed my life. It changed all our lives.”

“Can you speak about it?” she asked gently.

“Mark never did?”

His light eyes really did glitter. He must have inherited those remarkable eyes from someone. Father? Or the mother who had died so young? “Not beyond the fact your father had died. He wasn’t forthcoming about how.”

“I imagine not,” he said grimly. “It was Mark who found him lying crippled and unconscious out in the desert.” The vibrancy of his voice had been damped right down. “It was the big muster. Somehow Dad and Mark became separated from our group. We all thought Mark had packed it in. He had a habit of doing that. Dad had probably gone after him, to pull him back into line. Anyway, Mark galloped frenziedly into the lignum swamps, where we were flushing out unbranded cattle, yelling near incoherently that Dad was dead. Duchess, my father’s very special mare, had thrown him and then trampled him into the ground. Mark had taken his rifle and shot the mare in a fit of grief and rage.”

He remembered how wave after wave of waterfowl had risen in fright and outrage at the racket Mark was making. How every last man had stood in a devastated gut-wrenching silence at the drastic news. Everyone had confidently expected Desmond Kilcullen to live for many more years, liked and respected by the entire Outback community.

His pain was so palpable it stabbed at her. “How horrendous!” Sienna was about able to visualize the tragic scene.

“Horrendous, indeed.” He underscored her comment. “I damn nearly dropped dead myself from shock. According to Mark, Duchess had kicked Dad in the head. Accidents always will happen around horses, but my father was a consummate horseman. And Duchess was a wonderful one man horse. Something unexplained must have freaked the mare out. If terrified she would have reacted convulsively, throwing my unprepared father. Mark shot the mare on the spot. Dad spent the few remaining years of his life in a wheelchair, his memory of that terrible day blasted from his mind.” He didn’t add that any semblance of family life had been shattered.

Sienna sat horrified. “I’m so sorry Mark mistook your father’s condition.”

“I don’t know how, but he did,” he told her bleakly. “He was in a massive panic.”

“It’s such a terrible story.” She considered a moment. “Do you think it could have caused Mark’s subsequent behaviour? Could he have felt some measure of guilt? I mean in the sense that he was the one to find your father.

He had to shoot the mare. Was the mare a very temperamental animal?”

The handsome features visibly tightened, highlighting his fine bone structure. “Duchess was a very special horse, so of course she was a spirited animal. Something must have badly spooked her, as I’ve said. Mark was nearly off his head at the time. No one could get much sense out of him—especially me. He acted like I was accusing him of something. Dad could recall nothing of that day, although much of his past memory came back over time.”