The Outback Engagement

“Hello yourself!” She gave him a light ironic salute. Both of them had perfected the art of taking the mickey out of the other.

At close range he was even more stunning. Emphatically the cattle baron, a powerful and influential community leader, a target for women. She could never forget. They threw themselves at him. Worshipped at his booted feet. Around Curt Berenger adulation was the order of the day. His classic features were hard planed, damn nearly godlike. He had a firm but full lipped mouth, crystal clear green eyes that positively scintillated in his darkly tanned face. They stared at each other as they always did, way beyond the comfort zone.

She broke first, as ever, tossing her head which meant: Not me, Curt. Never again.

“Thanks so much for coming,” she said briskly, conscious she was breathing him in.

He started to walk with her to the jeep, adjusting his broad brimmed akubra over his eyes. “Given the brutal fact your dad and I have never got on—and we both know why—this is downright weird.”

Forbidden topic. “I agree but he trusts you.”

“Does he really?” Curt treated her to a sarcastic stare.

“It’s something to do with a new will,” she explained.

“Wha-a-t!” Curt did a double take.

“You heard me.” Tall as she was she had to tilt her head to look up at him. Something she found very satisfying.

“Hell, Darcy.” He registered his disgust. “Even now he’s playing with your emotions. What prompted this I wonder? And why me? It’s not making a lot of sense.” He didn’t wait to be invited, he slid behind the wheel of the jeep.

“People see things in a different way when they’re dying.” Darcy settled herself in the passenger side without comment. She was long used to Curt’s ways. “Whatever our history, underneath he respects you as a Berenger.”

“Does he, the old…so and so,” Curt swallowed on what he really wanted to call Jock McIvor. “Does he mean to include Courtney?” He put the jeep into gear, heading for the long unsealed track that led to the main compound.

“She is his daughter.” Darcy clamped her hands together. It was an automatic response to Curt’s closeness.

“She’s fairly well ignored that up-to-date. I wonder what he’s up to? For all his periodic bursts of charm your father is an unpredictable and ruthless man.” People’s view of Darcy was that she was a saint for putting up with her notoriously difficult father let alone loving him. But such was the parental bond. McIvor represented all Darcy knew since her mother had opted out at an age when Darcy had desperately needed her.

“I don’t really know what’s going on in his head,” Darcy said, pursing her lips in thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever known. As for Courtney, maybe she felt she’d be as unwanted here as I’d be unwanted there. My mother obviously decided she wanted nothing more to do with us.” She didn’t dare mention to Curt her father’s stunning confession her mother had wanted her to attend her second wedding. That would only give him more ammunition. Maybe there were more secrets in store for her? After all, didn’t she have her own?

“Probably it was all so painful she had to break the connection just to survive,” Curt looked into her eyes briefly. “Your mother needed love and admiration like the rest of us. She didn’t get it from your dear father. The thing that has always surprised me was your father didn’t let her have custody of both of you if only because of his lifestyle. He could have had you for the holidays. A compassionate man wouldn’t force such a traumatic separation. Children generally stay with their mother.”

“You seem to be forgetting. My mother didn’t want me. At least Dad did.” Darcy kept the pain and anger out of her voice. She was done with self-pity.

“That’s the line your father sold you. He drummed it into you from Day One. You were twelve years old. The unimaginable had happened. Your father was so desperate to hold onto you he shifted all the blame onto your mother. My mother insists to this day your mother adored you. You know that.”

“Strange way of showing it,” Darcy answered crisply. “Kath is just being Kath offering comfort.”

“Not only that,” Curt insisted. “Mum’s very fond of you of course, but she’s always been convinced your father had something on your mother he used as leverage. Or it was plain spite. You know what’s he like. She couldn’t have both of you. Come on, Darcy, your mother was a gentle, loving person. It must have been horrible for her. She wasn’t suited to station life but she tried for a long time. Your father was a big intimidating man. He made his wife suffer.”

“You mean with the affairs?” Darcy stared out at the sun scorched landscape, deriving comfort from its rugged grandeur. How she had hated it when her father had occasionally brought his girlfriends home. Though in all fairness most had tried to be kind to her.

“It must have been a tremendous threat to her self-esteem thus to the marriage.”

“He must have needed something she couldn’t give him,” Darcy sighed. “Sex was a very important part of Dad’s life. He couldn’t live without it.”

“Unlike you,” he said in a bone dry voice.

“Well, you could never lead a celibate life,” she retorted, turning her head away.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He picked up on that quickly. “I don’t know what fool image of me you’ve got in your head, but it’s certainly not based on reality. I am not your father, Darcy. How can you think that for a minute?”

She dug her nails into her palms. “Whenever you take your trips to the big cities I’m sure you don’t move around alone.” She had the proof. She had never spoken it aloud.

“Why because sometimes I get my picture in the paper?” he challenged.

Oh yes, she thought. You get your picture taken. “Let’s move off the subject,” she said. “I’m sorry I started it. Just say you’re very macho. Our way of life promotes it.”

“For goodness’ sake, Darcy!” Curt grunted. “I swear I don’t know what you’re on about some times. I suppose you can’t help it given the life you’ve led. I admit men are in control out here, if that’s what you call macho. Men determine the industry. As for your father, sex for him must have been like his drinking. An appetite. Maybe a form of recreation. Think about it. Was anyone really special to him? I know this is one hell of an explosive issue between us, but you’re forever locked into making excuses for your dad. It’s become second nature. I can’t believe he has ever really loved anyone in his entire life.”

It was a claim she desperately wanted to deny, but it was probably true. Darcy lifted her eyes to a squadron of budgerigars that flew in emerald and gold formation alongside the speeding vehicle. It was one of the great sights of her homeland. “Dad said he loved his mother,” she offered quietly.

“Well that’s one person,” Curt’s mouth tilted at the corners with dark humour. “I’m not saying he doesn’t care about you, Darcy. You’re his prize possession. The one that didn’t get away. I understand your allegiance even if it drives me nuts. You’ve only had him to turn to at a crucial time of your life. Every young girl needs her mother.”

“To develop right?” She was aware she had been severely damaged by her mother’s abandonment.

“Absolutely! Your dad even if he’d been a loving dad couldn’t have taken over that role. Darcy, he treated you—mistreated you if you like—like a boy. The son he never had. You give him everything. What does he give to you? Now a new will. What does that mean? Could it put your interests at risk in some way? Your interests must be protected. Maybe his choice of daughter goes back to the fact you’re said to resemble his mother. The mystical bond, perhaps?”

“Go to hell,” she said quietly.

“I’m trying to live my life to make certain I won’t,” he clipped off. “Your father was prepared to let Courtney go. He couldn’t keep your mother against her will but you were the one he wanted. You were the one he needed. Even at twelve you were brave, resourceful, competent, loyal. You loved the land when your mother and sister didn’t. You were fearless. You stood out and Courtney was a babe in arms beside you. She wasn’t a physical child in the sense you were. There was her fear of horses. Your father was to blame for that with his bluster and bullying. Instead of using a gentle hand he seemed to go out of his way to frighten her. They just didn’t come more rambunctious than your old man.”

“Rambunctious?” She gave a bitter little smile. “That’s a good word. He’s not so rambunctious now.”

Curt eyed her purely cut profile, the small straight nose, the delicately determined chin, the swan’s neck. Her lustrous mane of sable hair hung down her back in a thick plait. Her olive skin glowed with good health. No make-up save the usual token touch of lipstick. She was beautiful and ludicrously unaware of it. Inevitable perhaps when her father made a point of ignoring her feminine attractiveness. “I’m sorry, Darcy,” he said gently, and he was, though sometimes he wanted to shake the living daylights out of her. “I know what your father means to you. We’re predisposed to love our parents no matter what. What I don’t know is what he wants with me now? Given he’s done everything in his power to drive a wedge between us it’s damned odd. I don’t want to be put into the position of advising on wills. He has a team of lawyers for that. Maxwell and Maynard. Adam Maynard is a man of integrity with a fine legal brain. Your father has spoken to Adam hasn’t he?”

She pulled a face. “You know Dad never took to Adam any more than Adam took to Dad.”

“Your father isn’t an easy man to like.”

“How unkind.” She bit her lip.

“The unvarnished truth. Lots of people have been taken in by Jock. Women in particular. Some women will always be attracted to dangerous men.”

“You’re pretty dangerous yourself.” Her profound feelings for him spilled over, as on rare occasions they did.

His green eyes sought hers. “Rubbish!” His tone was a mix of disgust and wry humour. “I’m just a pussy cat.”

“A jaguar.” She didn’t smile. “We’ll never see eye to eye, Curt.”

He turned his head. “That wouldn’t stand up to examination. What about the land which we love more than anything else. The land and everything that goes with it. Then there’s our love of horses and horsemanship, of books and music. We share the same sense of humour. We like the same people. Our political leanings are the same, our world view. Apart from that we don’t have a darn thing in common. I agree. There’s quite a gap.”

Jock McIvor had foregone his medication so his mind would be clear. With difficulty he lifted his head as his daughter and Curt Berenger were shown into his bedroom by the incredibly dull and dour Ainsworth woman. Berenger stood inches over the head of his tall daughter, making her look darn near fragile. Funny he had never thought of Darcy as being fragile before. Darcy could handle rough work with the best of them.

“Good of you to come, Curt.” It came out in a hoarse bark.

Berenger inclined his handsome head.

As arrogant as his father McIvor thought, but it was the arrogance of achievement.

“Anything I can do to help Darcy, sir,” Curt said formally, moving to the bedside to take the withered hand that was extended to him. Curt recalled how big and powerful that hand had once been.

He was shocked by the deterioration in McIvor’s condition. McIvor looked very close to death. That inevitably stirred feelings of pity. However devious and demanding, Jock McIvor had been a giant of a man. To be reduced to this wasted hulk! It was cruel. Terminal illness was a down-casting fact of life.

“You don’t need to stay, Darcy,” McIvor rasped. “I need to talk to Curt alone.”

“Surely there’s nothing Darcy can’t hear?” Curt questioned, looking briefly over his shoulder towards Darcy. He hoped she’d insist on staying but her father had such a hold on her.

Darcy returned Curt’s challenging green gaze briefly then dipped her head. “I’ll go see about lunch. You’re staying, Curt?”

He nodded. “Don’t go to any trouble. Make it simple.”

“See you later then.” Darcy turned and moved quietly out of the room.

“Don’t like me much do you, Curt?” McIvor rubbed a hand still rough with a lifetime’s callouses against the smooth sheet.

Understatement of the year. “You’ve never done anything to make me like you, Jock. Then I don’t think it has ever mattered to you if you were liked or not.” Curt brought up a chair to the bed.

“Your dad didn’t care for me either. I suspect your parents thought I was responsible for Marian’s running off?”

“Were you?” Curt asked bluntly.

McIvor’s frown was fierce. “She threatened to destroy me if I didn’t let her go.”

“How could she do that?” Curt struggled to understand.

“She knew where the bodies were buried.”

“I didn’t know she played any role in your business affairs?” It was well known McIvor barely recognised women outside their sexual desirability.

“She didn’t play any role,” he huffed. “Didn’t have a brain in her fluffy blonde head. Like all women.”

“That’s not true, Jock,” Curt said. He wasn’t about to start an argument with a desperately ill man. “Women just didn’t get the opportunities. They were kept busy raising children. Anyway your own daughter gives the lie to that. Darcy’s had increasing input into the station affairs. I’d trust her anytime.”

“That’s because I trained her.” McIvor coughed and tried to get his breath back. “But she’s a woman. Women are weak, vulnerable. They’re putty in a man’s hands.”

“No way does that apply to Darcy.” Curt fixed his eyes steadily on McIvor’s. “She knows how to take care of herself.”

“That’s because I’m around.” McIvor, the confirmed chauvinist, was convinced of it. “What about when I’m not? I’ve got a lot to leave, my boy. I’ve looked after my affairs so well. Darcy will sure as hell be a mark as an heiress.”

“Perhaps she will but she can handle it,” Curt returned confidently.

“You sure about that? Life’s a bloody jungle. She’s been protected so far. The two of you have grown up together. I know you’ve got strong feelings for her.”

“Which you did your best to crush,” Curt didn’t hesitate to say. “You’ve been absolutely against Darcy and me but it’s much too late to talk about it now. What were you about to suggest, Jock? We do a complete about face? I marry Darcy to protect the most important thing in the world to you? We all know what that is. Murraree. Only neither Darcy nor I could be bought out.”

“It might turn out that way all the same,” McIvor was moved to predict, his bitter expression betraying he was not entirely coming to terms with it even when he was dying.

“Why don’t you cut to the chase, Jock,” Curt suggested, feeling like getting up and walking away. “What have you really got me here for?”

McIvor gave a dry cough, trying to ignore the pain over which he had no control. “Now, now, remember I’m a sick man. No matter what you say, you make it your business to look out for Darcy.”

Curt admitted as much with an abrupt nod of his head.

“She must be protected.” McIvor gave another harsh cough. He stared past Curt’s mahogany head to the portrait across the room. “I have to settle my life, son. Do you understand that?”

“Of course I do.” Curt was straightforward with his answer. “I understand from Darcy you now wish to consider Courtney?”

McIvor swallowed on a throat that was perpetually parched. “Some women find it the simplest thing to give a man sons. Others can only manage giving a man in my position daughters.”

“Hang on, Jock, are you sure of that?” Curt pressed.

“Don’t listen to rumours, son. They’re not true. I have no son, a curse which even now when I’m dying I can’t adjust to. Your dad was the lucky one.”

“My dad lost his life prematurely.” Curt commented sombrely, still grieving for the father he idolized.

“I know and I’m sorry but he had you. He had an heir to take over the reins.” McIvor’s grey face was thwarted and angry.

“You have Darcy,” Curt answered him. “Tom McLaren is a good manager. Darcy has friends. She’s much admired in the community.”

“Course she is, but she’s a woman. Running a big cattle station is a man’s job. It’s endless back breaking work. You know that. Then she’d have to cope with the men. They behave when I’m around, but there are those that eye her off. I see ’em. If they ever went near her I’d shoot ’em. Darcy is an Outback woman to the core. She loves the land like we do. She’s the eldest, the first born. She’ll get the lion’s share.”

“I should hope so. She deserves it,” Curt looked closely at the dying man. McIvor was so unpredictable.

“Always on her side,” McIvor snorted. “It’s a bizarre relationship you two have. I almost regret now the things I’ve done.”

Curt almost laughed aloud. “I’ve always blamed you, Jock. Make no mistake about that. But to get back to why I’m here. You want to draw up a new document recognizing Courtney? Is that it?”

“Yes.” A shudder shook McIvor’s wasted frame.

“Are you all right? Clearly you’re in a lot of pain.” Curt half stood up.

“Maybe a drink of water.”

Curt poured it, assisting McIvor to drink. “I was thinking of a trust fund,” McIvor managed eventually when he was resting back on the pillows. “I want you to play a part in that. Trustee now your dad’s gone. I would have asked him.”

“Jock! Do you want to give Darcy another reason to resent me?” Curt groaned. “She can handle her own affairs.”

McIvor looked back with genuine scorn. “In my judgment it would be best if a man like you kept a careful eye on things.”

“There are good reliable responsible professionals who could do that.” Curt argued. “Your solicitors Maxwell & Maynard. You should be discussing this all important issue with them. I would have thought time was critical.”

McIvor frowned. “I wanted to talk to you first. No matter what you think of me—what I’ve done—and I admit I took every opportunity to cause trouble—I trust you. Besides you Berengers have more than enough money and property of your own. Maybe things between you and Darcy went sour but I’ll stake my life—what’s left of it—you’ll look out for her.”

Curt’s expression was not encouraging. “Why didn’t you discuss this with Adam Maynard when he was last here?”

McIvor beetled his brows. “He’s not a favourite of mine. He’s not one of us. You’re the man I trust. You’re a cattle man just like me and you’re familiar with the whole situation. Darcy needs you as an adviser, a man who can help her plan for the future. I don’t want to see all us McIvors have worked for go down the drain.”

“That I understand.” Curt nodded his agreement. “But let me get Darcy in here, Jock. You wanted my advice. That’s it. Get her in here. Don’t leave her in the dark. She’s not a child. She’s a responsible adult.”

McIvor pressed back against the pillows. “I can’t handle it,” he barked, looking pathetically ill. “Darcy being Darcy will launch into one of her little tirades. Don’t think she’s not above telling her own father off. I’m not saying she doesn’t have the business acumen to handle the McIvor fortune if it weren’t for the fact she’s a woman. You know as well as I do men stalk women with money.”

Curt knew better than most inheriting a fortune was a heavy responsibility. “So you figure setting up a family trust will protect Darcy and presumably Courtney?”

“Who’s probably a complete ninny like her mother and just as beautiful. There’ll be plenty of men around to exploit her. Mark my words! There’s marriage, divorce. These things happen. Hell, I should know. Some bloody con man could go off with my money. No wonder there are prenuptial agreements. It’s the only way to go.”

Curt forced himself to sound as calm as possible. “So Darcy and Courtney are the main beneficiaries?” He wondered if there weren’t somebody else in the woodwork given McIvor’s numerous liasons.

McIvor cleared his throat several times. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely.

“The trust administers the estate and apportions income to your daughters. You’d have to decide how much.”

“They’ll have enough!” McIvor muttered irritably.

“I think you should line up another couple of trustees,” Curt suggested.

“Okay, okay.” McIvor waved a withered hand. “I’m telling you Curt it’s the only way I’ll die happy. I need a man of impeccable reputation who has more than enough interests of his own to act as the main trustee and executor of my estate. I believe I’ve come up with the right man. You. And if you won’t do it I’ll have to get someone else,” he added with grim determination. “Someone who mightn’t always act in the best interests of the beneficiaries.”

That forced Curt to reconsider. McIvor’s expression told him he meant exactly what he said. “Jock, you’re putting a lot on me. Darcy won’t like this idea.”

“It’s not Darcy’s money!” McIvor glared, his voice suddenly strong. “Murraree belongs to me. If she wants to make trouble she mightn’t be named as a beneficiary at all. Now I’m tired,” he announced gruffly. “Get that dratted Ainsworth woman in here, will you? She’s plain, poor bitch. No woman should be as plain as that and she stinks of disinfectant. I don’t want to hurt Darcy but I won’t tolerate any stubbornness. Explain that to her.”

CHAPTER TWO

CURT left McIvor’s bedroom feeling like he was wading through quick sand. The nurse was hovering nearby and he lost no time telling her Mr. McIvor was in need of his medication. He then went in search of Darcy, finding her in the kitchen, washing a head of lettuce at the sink.

“Ham and salad okay?” she asked in a way that suggested her mind wasn’t on fixing lunch at all.

“Fine.” His voice too came out more clipped than he intended. “Make it a sandwich and a cup of coffee, Darcy. I have to talk to you.”

“Of course you do and from the expression on your face you know I won’t like it. Dad is selling Murraree to you. At the right price, of course.” Although she was joking Darcy’s golden skin had turned pale. Anything was possible with her father.

Curt gave a harsh laugh. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “That’d be one for the books!” The kitchen was enormous and very old-fashioned. Like the rest of the rambling old homestead it was badly in need of updating and refurbishing. For all his money McIvor was notoriously tight fisted. “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want Murraree, Darcy,” he said, aware of her loss of colour. “I have enough on my hands.”

She shook her gleaming head. “You wouldn’t knock it back if it came on the market?”

“I’m not getting into any hypothetical discussions. Come here and sit down.”

“I’ll make you a sandwich first. The coffee will only take a minute. I’ll put it on the stove.” For a few moments neither spoke as she worked quickly putting together a plate of ham and salad sandwiches. “So what did Dad suggest?” she asked finally, setting the plate before him along with a clean white linen napkin.

“This looks good,” he said, realizing he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since dawn. “You’re going to have something surely?” He looked up at her.

“I seem to have lost my appetite.”

“You can’t afford to. You’re downright skinny.” The expression in his green eyes changed, as they travelled over her.

Sometimes he slipped back into doing that so the blood raced through her veins. “Why do you do it, Curt?” she asked, thoroughly rattled.

“Call you skinny?” he half smiled.

“You know darn well. Look at me like that?”

He sat back, considering. “Well apart from being skinny you’re just beautiful even with a pigtail hanging down your back. I can’t remember the last time I saw your hair out.”

“You do too,” she reminded him shortly. “The last polo ball.”

“That’s right. Damn near a year ago. Sunset hosts it this time around. I remember you spent most of the night with Rob Erskine,” he referred to a member of his team who had always been painfully in love with Darcy and unbeknown to him had actually proposed to her.