Australia: Outback Fantasies: Outback Heiress, Surprise Proposal / Adopted: Outback Baby / Outback Doctor, English Bride

‘It’s at the separation stage.’ Carina spoke carelessly, as though it were only a hop, step and a jump to divorce. ‘You need to be married at least a year before you get a divorce. Otherwise it’s just tacky. What was it he saw in you?’ she joshed, her blue eyes full of cousinly teasing.

‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Francesca said. Greg Norbett had actually proposed to her after a fundraising party. A surprise because she’d never encouraged a relationship with him. What a good thing she hadn’t been attempted to accept Greg’s proposal, given his limited attention span. She felt very sad about his wife. It wasn’t very sporting, Carina sleeping with other women’s husbands. In some respects Carina rated a moral zero.

Francesca came around her desk to accompany her cousin to the door, though it was more like a flat-out sprint, keeping up with Carina’s pace.

‘Have a great weekend, Francey!’ Carina turned to say. ‘I mean that!’ She bent slightly—she was tall, especially in those stiletto heels—to give Francesca an air peck. ‘Bryn likes to look out for you. He’s been at it for most of your life.’ It was said in a tone that in someone else would have been gentle amusement, but somehow from Carina sounded snide. ‘Can I give you a word of advice?’ She swept on before Francesca could say yay or nay. ‘I’m much more savvy in the ways of the world than you are.’

‘No argument there,’ Francesca said.

‘Enjoy yourself,’ Carina told her magnanimously. ‘But whatever you do, don’t trust Bryn. He’s a master manipulator.’

‘I suppose we all are from time to time.’

Carina’s brows rose. ‘Be that as it may, Francesca, I trusted Bryn Macallan to my cost. He was the love of my life. He took my virginity.’

It was possible, but the new Francesca wasn’t sure she believed her. ‘Sure you hadn’t abandoned it before that?’

Carina levelled her with an affronted frown. ‘Have your little joke. I expected you to fly to Bryn’s defence, but you know yourself, Francey, I’m a far better judge of character than you are. I know Bryn’s a sizzlingly exciting man. Zillions of women can only get to dream about a guy like Bryn, but I had him for the longest possible time. I was the one to clock up the hours. And where did it get me? Absolutely nowhere. No engagement, no wedding, like I’d been promised. Worst of all, no damned respect. D’you know what I think?’

‘Please tell me.’ Francesca remained outwardly calm.

‘He has turned his attention to you.’ Carina whipped that out like a master stroke. ‘Bryn doesn’t need me any more. He doesn’t need any more money. It’s power he’s after. That’s what he’s all about. That’s what he does. Just like Gramps. We women are only pawns. It has never been any different, right down the centuries. We get used. I certainly was, and I don’t want it to happen to you. I really do care about you, Francey. This is family now. You know what they say?’

‘Blood’s thicker than water?’ Francesca hazarded a guess. She already knew that wasn’t always the case. ‘So, what do you suggest I do?’

‘Don’t ever let him into your bed,’ Carina warned her, regarding Francesca like a Mother Superior with a wavering novice. ‘He’ll try it, but don’t worry. Just make sure it doesn’t happen. He’ll be everything you ever wanted or wished for, but there will be a price to pay. He’ll have you, body and soul. God knows, I’ve had to fight hard to free myself of the madness.’

Francesca knew she wasn’t exaggerating. ‘Has the madness gone?’ she asked gently. Tender at heart, she was profoundly sorry for her pain. Carina was her cousin, after all. They had spent much of their lives together.

Carina backed up to the door, looking disturbingly near tears, which further upset Francesca. Carina never cried. Not even at their grandfather’s funeral, when one would have thought she could have squeezed out a few. ‘It gets less and less every day,’ she said, blinking her eyes valiantly. ‘There are plenty of other distractions. Like poor Greg. He’s such a bore! His poor little wife should sue him for causing her grievous mental distress. I’m twenty-six going on twenty-seven, Francey, and I’ve relinquished all faith in men.’ The genuine unhappiness in Carina’s brilliant blue eyes said more than a thousand words ever could.

‘Oh, Carrie, I’m sorry.’ Francesca reached out to take gentle hold of her cousin’s arm. Love was the very devil! This had to be terrible for the proud Carina. ‘Twenty-six is no age. You’re so beautiful, so much admired. You have the world at your feet. There are plenty of good men out there.’

Carina gave a laugh to cover her distress. ‘Not the ones I’ve encountered. As long as I can save you. That’s all I care about. Don’t take a gamble on Bryn, Francey. You’ll never win.’ She opened the heavy door, then stepped into the wide carpeted corridor, totally ignoring Valerie Scott, who sat at her desk, head bowed so close to her work she had to be going crosseyed. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she promised with a big smile. ‘Next time you take off I might come with you. Out there we can really bond.’

Francesca said nothing. Bonding wasn’t an activity Carina had paid much attention to in the past. But there was always hope. Wasn’t hope supposed to spring eternal? Could a leopard change its spots? The answer in nature was a resounding no! Applied to humans, the verdict wasn’t so reliable. What exactly had Carina come to tell her? Was this another one of her strategies? Changed spots or not, she didn’t fancy the idea of putting her head in a leopard’s mouth.

After Carina had gone on her way, leaving a minefield of possibilities, Francesca withdrew to her office, closing the door. It wasn’t her practice to do it all the time, but she did it now, directing a little sympathetic smile Valerie’s way. Poor Valerie! Carina had been very rough on her. Then again, there was the possibility Carina was in the early stages of turning herself around. Who could deny there were great life-changing forces constantly at work?

One good thing about being the official Forsyth heiress. If she disappeared, even in the Outback, people would notice.

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY flew into Daramba well before noon. Once over the vast station Bryn brought the King Air down low, so they could get a closer look at the condition of the land. The endless miles of wildflowers had all but vanished, ready to reappear with the next Wet Season’s good rains, but the ancient landscape—the infinite Inland Sea of pre-history—still frothed in blossom from the trees. Daramba was in prime condition, the fiery red earth thickly sown with thick Mitchell and Flinders grass, the ubiquitous spinifex, salt bush, hop bush and the succulent pink parakeelya cattle liked to feed on. There were clusters of billabongs, three or four linked, before a break of a few miles streaked away to the horizon, the iridescent blue of the sky holding a couple of white clouds, like giant cotton wool balls. No rain in them. No rain anywhere over a state more than twice the size of Texas.

The great system of water channels that ran like intricate lacework all over the Channel Country glittered in the sun, some silver, others dark green, with occasionally a cloudy opal-blue or lime-green, framed by the dark green fringing trees that grew along the sandy banks. It created a whole kaleidoscope of colour. And there was movement as well as colour. A mob of brumbies with a long-tailed bay at the front—tall and powerful for a wild horse—its harem behind, the half-grown foals alongside, suddenly shot into view from a thick screen of bauhinias, probably taking fright at the sound of the plane’s engines. They were a marvellous sight in flight, and because of easy access to feed and water in glossy condition.

Stockmen on the ground looked up and waved their dusty hats as they made their passes over campsites and holding yards where fat cattle were penned almost bumper to bumper. In the middle distance a big mob was moving like the giant Rainbow Snake of aboriginal legend, twisting and turning as they made their way to one of the billabongs with a couple of stockmen riding back and forth among them, urging the beasts on and keeping them in an orderly formation. They didn’t look as if they needed much urging, Francesca thought.

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