Master Of Maramba

“Oh, dear!” Carrie slumped, knowing what heartache meant. “The mother didn’t take the child? That’s unusual.”

“Didn’t want her, it appears.” James’ kind eyes grew soulful. “I don’t know the full story in that area, Royce doesn’t explain much. You’d have to know of her, though she’d be some years older than you. Thirty, maybe thirty-one. Very glamorous woman. Almost a beauty but too brittle. Sharon Rowlands, that was. Hugh Rowlands heads the Standford Pastoral Company. Ruth Rowlands and her daughter spend most of their time following the social scene. You see them in all the magazines.”

“Except I’ve been too busy to read them. The little girl must have been devastated when her parents split up. How old is she?”

“A very precocious six going on seven,” James said.

“So they were married young?” Carrie observed, making calculations.

“According to Liz the marriage was arranged while they were both in the cradle.”

“That’s how it works in some families. It didn’t take them long to grow apart.”

“No.” James truly, genuinely, felt very sorry for his client. “Royce has very big responsibilities, big commitments. The talk is Sharon got bored.”

“Bored?” Carrie was stunned. What sort of life did this Sharon want? “So you’ve met her?”

“A few times,” James said.

“What did you think of her as a person?”

“Too shallow for Royce. Liz thought so, too. She’s an excellent judge of character.”

“Yes, she is.” Carrie had turned very serious. “The mother must have a heart of stone if she could bear to leave her child.”

James stared into his coffee cup. “I hate to say it but the word is the little one might interfere with her pleasure. I expect she’ll remarry though Liz thinks she’ll never get over Royce, let alone find another man like him.”

“Maybe if she still cares about him they could get back together,” Carrie said reasonably. “Make a go of it for their child. They can’t have any of the financial worries that put a strain on most couples.”

“Money doesn’t ensure happiness, my darling,” James said heavily, thinking of any number of his wealthy clients who had finished up in the divorce courts. “I thank God for my marriage every day of my life.”

Carrie gave him the old warm smile. “You’re beautiful people, Jamie. You and Liz. Beautiful, tolerant, generous, caring people.” Determinedly she pushed all thought of her stepmother’s mean-spiritedness from her mind. “I love you. Always will.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, the atmosphere full of an easy companionship. “You know I’m like your father in this respect,” James confided after a while. “I couldn’t bear the thought of your going away. I know you had to for your career. I was terror stricken when I got that phone call….” He broke off, the news of Carrie’s accident embedded in his consciousness.

“I know, James. It could have been much worse.” Carrie forced a smile.

“Much, much worse, my darling. Losing my sister was a terrible blow. I couldn’t face anything horrible happening to you.” James spoke huskily. “There’s something else in store for you, kitten.” He used an old pet name. “Something wonderful. It may not seem like it now.”

“It doesn’t.” Carrie swallowed. “It’s hard for me, Jamie. Very hard.”

“Yes, yes.” James reached over to grip his niece’s left hand. “Liz and I understand what the loss of your career means to you.”

“Of course. I may not have had a career.” Carrie tried to look at it another way. “I mightn’t have made the grade. There are many, many fine young pianists out there. One almost has to have a gimmick.”

“Your beauty? Your personality?” James suggested, then stopped abruptly, realising it was all over.

“But I don’t need a gimmick after all.” For a moment Carrie had a stark image of the crash. Horror then sudden darkness. Then the full realisation when she woke up in hospital. “I need a job, Jamie,” she said. “You can help me. You’re handling this matter for your client?”

“I was going to allow Galbally to conduct the interviews,” James said.

Carrie allowed herself a little gasp of dismay not lost on her uncle.

“Dearest, I don’t have time,” James explained. “Women are so much better at these things.”

“Not Ms. Galbally.” Carrie raised her eyebrows.

“She takes her responsibilities very seriously,” James said loyally.

“I’m sure she does. Can’t you recommend me, Jamie?”

James dropped his head forward. “Your father wouldn’t like it at all. I can just image his response.”

“Glenda would.”

James responded to the irony. “But it mightn’t work out at all, Carrie. I don’t want to put you into a situation where you might be unhappy. Cut off and depressed.”

“Unhappier, don’t you mean? I can look after a little girl. She must be especially vulnerable. Like me. Maybe I can bring something to her. Two female creatures under pressure.”

James nibbled his nether lip. “Royce is coming to the office in a half hour. We have business to attend to. The revival in beef prices has boosted sales in the rural property sector. He’s thinking in terms of expansion.”

“Does he want to own the whole country?” Carrie asked with mild sarcasm.

“We need men like Royce McQuillan, dearest.”

“I know,” she relented. “Would it be okay if I waited?”

James sat back, focusing totally on his niece. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yes.” She touched the little finger of her right hand, and rubbed it in a distracted fashion. Strange, it still looked okay. “Of course I won’t know how serious until I lay eyes on the great nation builder, but as you like and approve of him he must be okay.”

“Indeed he is, which is not say he’s an easy man,” James considered. “He’s only into his thirties but already he has extraordinary presence. Such an aura! It takes most men years of achievement to acquire that.”

“Must be all the money,” Carrie quipped dryly.

James nodded. “That helps. The break-up of his marriage changed him in significant ways. Less likely to relax. Let down his guard. He’s more formidable.”

“He sounds an uncomfortable person. Is he bitter?”

James pursed his lips. “Not bitter as in surly or unpleasant. Nothing like that. He has great charm when he cares to use it. But the marriage break-up took away a certain lightness of spirit. The capacity for easy laughs.”

“Made him more wary of women I expect?”

“Beautiful women.” James looked full at her, captivated as ever by the lovely classical features, the bright colouring, most of all the close resemblance to his much-loved sister, Caroline.

That same lovely face now fell. “You mean he’s looking for someone very plain?” The idea was unsettling.

“I think pleasant would be his choice.” James glanced off.

“Then pleasant I’ll be,” said Carrie, all of a sudden sure life on an Outback cattle station would solve her problem.

She was holding the fort for Debra, Halliday, Scholes & Associates’ receptionist when he came through the door, confounding her. The blood drummed in her ears. The world tilted again.

“Why, hello there.” He spoke very smoothly as she looked up. “This is just so unexpected.”

Somehow mercifully the moment passed. She was able to breathe again. “It is…odd,” Carrie agreed, aware those brilliant black eyes were filled with amusement and mockery. “May I help you?” She was rather proud of the calm detachment of her voice.

“It’s your boss I’m after. James Halliday.”

“You have an appointment?” It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

“Of course I have an appointment.” He gave a brief laugh. “You must be new. Royce McQuillan.”

She was struck by dread. There goes the job. The bolthole. “Of course, Mr. McQuillan.” She stared back at him. “The receptionist will be back in a moment but I’ll ring through for you.”

“No matter!” He dismissed that with a slight impatient gesture of his hand. “I’ll go along. Mr. Halliday is expecting me.”

“Then allow me to take you,” Carrie offered, coming around the reception desk as Debra approached from the opposite direction, increasing her pace as she recognised the client.

“Good morning, Mr. McQuillan,” she carolled, packing a lot of feeling into her voice. “Or is it afternoon?”

“In a few minutes.” He glanced down at his watch. “How are you, Debra?”

“I’m well. And you?” The receptionist came to a halt, staring up into his face, obviously thrilled he had taken the time to say a few words to her.

“Fine.” There was a brief glimpse of his devastating smile. Very white against the dark tan. “Busy as usual. This young lady here,” he turned to Carrie now standing at his shoulder, “is going to escort me to Mr. Halliday’s office.”

“That’s nice of you, Carrie,” Debra said, her colour warm, eyes bright. “Carrie is…”

“In the office for the day.” Carrie cut the other girl off smoothly. She didn’t want her relationship to James explained quite yet.

Debra smiled touching a hand to her soft bubbly curls. “Nice to see you, Mr. McQuillan. I won’t be here when you get back. I’ll be going off for lunch.”

“Joining the madding crowd?” He gave her a little salute.

“What part do you play in the scheme of things?” he asked Carrie as they moved off. “I recognise you from somewhere and I don’t mean our previous encounter.”

“I’m not famous,” she said. It came off her tongue rather acidly.

“Is that what’s tearing you apart?” He glanced down at her from his arrogant height.

“You’re wrong. Believe me.” Carrie kept on walking, slightly intimidated by his long stride.

“I don’t think so.”

Little flames glowed in the pupils of her eyes and she tilted her head. “You must spend your time trying to psychoanalyse people?”

“I haven’t actually met anyone who acted quite like you,” he returned blandly.

“I’m sure—absolutely sure—I don’t understand you.” She raised her delicate arched brows.

“Then I’ll explain. In simple terms, you’re hostile.”

“You could very easily arouse those feelings in anybody.” It slipped off her tongue before she could consider.

“For all I know you could be frightened of me?”

“Nonsense.”

“Street terrorism?” the dark voice mocked.

“Have your bit of fun.”

“Are you a lady lawyer?” He gave her his all-encompassing sidelong glance. “You don’t look old enough, yet I’d say you’re a match for most people.”

“I’m not a lawyer.” She turned to him sweetly. “I don’t work for this firm.”

“But you’re somehow connected to James? I’ve finally figured it out.” He paused so she was forced to pause, too. “I know he doesn’t have a daughter. Come to think if it,” he laughed suddenly as full comprehension set in. “There’s quite a resemblance. You must be the niece. The brilliant young pianist?”

Except now I’ve been whittled down to size. “You are a detective,” she said lightly. “Poirot on his best day.”

“Why so snappy?” The striking face tautened as he stared down at her. “You have a wonderful future ahead of you, I understand?”

“An unfortunate part of my nature.” They had turned into the top hallway, and now James Halliday himself emerged from his suite, anxious to greet such a valuable client personally.

“Royce,” he cried with genuine pleasure, moving forward, hand outstretched. “Good to see you.”

The two men shook hands.

“I see you’ve already met my niece?” James’ smile widened to include the two of them.

“We haven’t gotten around to formal introductions yet,” Royce McQuillan drawled.

“Please allow me.” Suddenly conscious of a certain tingle in the air, James performed the introductions, while Carrie, ashamed of the way she’d been acting and doing her utmost to avoid being overwhelmed, gave him her hand.

“Catrina, may I?” he asked.

“Everyone calls her Carrie.” James smiled, extending an arm to usher them through the door.

She didn’t have a clue what she was doing. She had never felt remotely like this around anyone else. The shooting sparks of electricity didn’t stop even after he’d released her hand. She couldn’t look at him. It was the dynamic aura, she consoled herself. Even James felt it and James was the complete man of the world.

A little later by the time they were inside James’ office, she found her voice. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. McQuillan, but I should be on my way.”

James’ eyes found hers in perplexity. Something drastic must have happened to alter Carrie’s plan. “But I thought, kitten…”

Carrie felt McQuillan’s amusement. Kitten? How long since Jamie had called her kitten? Now twice in the one day. She turned to face Royce McQuillan square-on. “Goodbye.”

She didn’t offer the hand again but lifted a thick silky section of her hair from her collar as she spoke, tossing her head slightly to redistribute the mass.

An extraordinary alluring gesture, he thought. Kitten? She certainly had the colouring of a beautiful marmalade but this young woman had sharp claws. He noticed, too, the knuckles of her right hand were clenched white. They were beautiful hands. Long-fingered, strong-looking. A pianist’s hands.

“I was rather hoping you’d stay and have lunch with us,” he found himself saying. “My business with James won’t take long.”

“We’re going to Oskars, sweetheart. You like it there.” James weighed in, trying to encourage her. “They won’t have any difficulty changing two places to three.”

She wanted to go, unwillingly in thrall of him. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“Please, sit down both of you.” James indicated the comfortable seating arrangement. “I was telling Carrie about your need of a governess for Regina,” he said, turning his eyes in Carrie’s direction.

“Were you? You can’t have thought she’d be interested?” McQuillan returned suavely, waiting for Carrie to take a seat in the armchair opposite him, before sitting down.

It was time for Carrie to speak, James considered, or let the whole thing slide. Knowing her so well, he could see her moods, however, were fluctuating wildly.

“Actually I’ve been working so hard on my career I’m in need of a complete change.”

Royce McQuillan stayed quiet for a moment wondering if she’d suffered some kind of nervous collapse. A burnout.

“I hardly see you as a governess,” he said. “What do you know about the job?”

“Nothing!” Her amber eyes sparkled. “But I like children.”

“Being able to handle them might matter more,” he observed, his eyes touching on her slender body in a summery two-piece outfit of blouse and skirt, white with dark blue polka dots, the short skirt showing off her beautiful legs, the V-neck of the top revealing the slight cleft between her milk-white breasts. She had the flawless skin of certain redheads. Not a mark on it for all she lived in a subtropical climate.

Carrie bore his scrutiny by sitting very quietly. A kind of balancing act. “Who said I couldn’t?” she retorted. “I’ve had quite a bit to do with talented children, coaching, giving lessons, master classes for the little ones.”

“Regina is a child who likes getting her own way,” he said matter-of-factly as though it needed to be said. “I don’t know what James told you,” McQuillan glanced in her uncle’s direction, “but her mother left her in my sole custody. Regina isn’t desolated but understandably she’s found that difficult to handle.”

As well she might, Carrie thought. Abandoned so early in life. This dizzyingly dynamic man for a father. “I had to live without my mother,” she said quietly. “I’ve had a stepmother for most of my life.”

“You don’t like her?” he asked bluntly.

“There’s no point in talking about it.” Carrie shook her head, not wanting to be humiliated by this man any further. He didn’t like her. She wasn’t being terribly likeable. Under no circumstances would he employ her. She made to rise. “It was just an idea I had. A spur of the moment thing. Besides something about the story moved me. Regina’s feelings that can’t be dismissed and I need to help someone.” To help myself, to survive, she thought but didn’t say. “I’m sure Uncle James will find you someone you consider suitable, Mr. McQuillan.” She stood up in one swift graceful movement. “I must decline your kind offer to have lunch. I have to see someone this afternoon at the Conservatorium.” Easy to make it up.

He, too, stood up, his expression a little darker. “What a pity. I would have liked to get to know you better instead of a few snatched words. James has spoken of you often. I’ve just recalled where I saw you though I can see it has since disappeared.” He turned to James. “Remember that photograph of a little girl you used to have on your desk. It had a lovely antique silver frame.”

“Carrie, of course!” James’ face lit up. “It’s at home. Liz went off with it. She loves that one.”

“I was ten at the time.” Carrie looked at Royce McQuillan in surprise.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“I have, too.” I’m falling apart, Carrie thought, stunned how well she hid it. I just have to get away from this man.

“You’re wonderfully observant, Royce,” James said in his charming voice, fully conscious of the charge in the atmosphere.

“It’s not a face one forgets.”

“No.” James smiled at his niece, his heart in his eyes. “Carrie is the image of her mother, my darling sister, Caroline. Having Carrie, Caro is always near.” He reached out and slipped an arm around Carrie’s waist, drawing her to him.

“Love you,” she murmured, turning her head into her uncle’s shoulder. “Well, I must be off.” Her voice picked up briskly. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Let’s see, I take it you’ve withdrawn your candidature?” Again Royce McQuillan cast his spell over her, his brilliant black gaze suggesting she was a highly volatile individual.

“I didn’t think you liked me?” she answered solemnly.

“Did I say so?”

“I believe you did. In certain ways.”

“Really?” One black eyebrow shot up. “I’m sorry you thought so. I didn’t mean it in that way. If you are serious, perhaps we can discuss the matter again as you absolutely must rush off.” It was obvious he hadn’t believed in her excuse.

“When do you fly back home, Royce?” James Halliday asked, not quite sure what was going on. But something certainly was.

“Tomorrow.”

His gaze held her as though she was pinned to the wall. “I think you want someone very different from me,” Carrie said, suddenly anxious to back out of a dangerous situation while she could. This man could change her life. She knew it. And not for the better. She wasn’t such a fool or so traumatized it hadn’t struck her, though her reactions were multiple, the overriding one was sexual. The slightest contact with his hand had somehow compromised her. This man still had an ex-wife in the background. An ex-wife who wasn’t over him yet. The mother of his child.

Carrie tilted her head to kiss her uncle’s cheek. “See you, Jamie. Give my love to Liz.”

“You are coming sailing with me?” James was mystified by her thoughts.

“Of course I am. Let’s hope for a perfect weekend.” Her skirt flaring as she changed direction, Carrie dared to glance in Royce McQuillan’s direction. “I’m thinking how I’m going to get out of my parking spot. You’re still there?”

“I don’t know if I should let you do it,” he said with a provocative stare.

“Do what? It would be nice if you’d let me in on this,” James complained.

“I met Mr. McQuillan earlier on,” Carrie explained. “We’re both parked in the side street.”

“I can come with you if you’re worried,” Royce McQuillan offered suavely. “Perhaps extricate your car.”

“This time I might have to allow you.” The accident had made her lose so much confidence. “I wouldn’t like to do the slightest damage to your car.”

“Not mine. A friend’s.”

“I see.” She nibbled her lip. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. I have many talents but I’m not the greatest parker in the world.”

“So you’ve said.” He took her arm lightly though he might as well have shaken her such was her reaction. “Won’t be more than five minutes, James.”

“Take your time.” James was doing his level best to assess this surprising situation, but was content to let fate take its course.

“Are you really meeting anybody?” Royce McQuillan asked when they were out on the street.

“I wonder you doubt me.” If he hadn’t released her she would have had to pull away.

“I do.” He wondered what it would be like to kiss her mouth. Hard. Kiss the curve of her neck, the swell of her breast. Dangerous to have such thoughts about someone so young. Too young. He remembered James had told him all about his niece’s twenty-first birthday party. But hang on, that had to be a year or more ago. Time went so swiftly.

“Stay like that,” he ordered when they reached the footpath alongside the parked cars. “Just give me your keys.”

“You will be careful.” She couldn’t understand why she was trying to provoke him. She closed her eyes as their fingers touched.

He didn’t bother to answer. Instead he crammed himself into her tiny car, shot back the driver’s seat as far as it would go, then in a matter of moments had the car waiting, ready for her to get into it and drive away.

“How very nice of you,” she said, unable to get the cool satirical note out of her voice. She stood well back while he extricated himself from her car.

“A pleasure, Miss Russell. You quite interest me.”

“Surely I’m not important enough for that?” She slipped into the driver’s seat, aware she was being drawn into a dark whirlpool.

“I suspect not,” he gave a low laugh, “nevertheless you might tell me why a beautiful girl like yourself, a gifted performer, would want to hide herself away in the wilds. You have an aura of intense excitement swirling all around you yet you want to get away. You must have some idea what station life would be like? You’d be so isolated much of the time.”

“I know that.” Her eyes looked straight ahead.

“So what’s the reason?” His voice was like black velvet against her skin. “You’ve split with a boyfriend? You’ve changed your mind about your big career?”

Some things you couldn’t help. “My career is demolished, Mr. McQuillan,” she gritted, her voice harsh so she could keep it steady. “Thank you for helping me out. Of course if you hadn’t parked so close behind me you wouldn’t have had to worry.”

The whole attitude of his lean powerful body changed. “Look,” he said.

“No, you look.” She lifted a hand in farewell and drove off.

She could still see him in her rear-view mirror. He was standing in the middle of the quiet street looking after her. God! He probably thought she was mad. She didn’t have any appointment at the Conservatorium to keep. She couldn’t bear to go home. Glenda’s manner was so unpleasant these days. She’d thought to get rid of me but my accident changed that. It changed everything.

Tears sprang to Carrie’s eyes but she blinked them away furiously. No use crying. What’s done was done. Like Jamie said, she had to pick up the pieces and find strategies to propel her through life.

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN he returned to James’ office, Royce got straight to the point. “Your niece just shocked me by telling me her career is demolished. What on earth happened? You’ve never said anything.”

James found himself apologising. “Of course I should have. To be honest, Royce, I haven’t felt able to talk about it. Carrie has grieved. We’ve all grieved for almost a year. She was involved in a car crash the very afternoon she had word she’d secured a place at the Julliard Academy in New York. The accident wasn’t all that bad. A friend’s car and a taxi collided. Carrie broke a couple of ribs, suffered a few abrasions but the worst part was the little finger of her right hand was very badly broken. The orthopaedic man did a marvellous job. For most purposes it’s perfectly all right. She’s still a highly accomplished pianist but he warned us the finger won’t stand up to the rigours of a concert career. It will let her down, perhaps during a performance. I haven’t got words for how we feel. Carrie has changed in little telling ways. But she’s very brave. A fighter. In many ways she’s been fighting all her life.”