Emma Darcy - The Ultimate Choice

The more she thought about it, the more uncertain she became that Justin St John would change his mind about seeing her again. He was not the kind of man who liked to acknowledge any weakness, not even pain. And she kept remembering the flash of revulsion on his face. It nagged at her mind. What was so wrong about her that he should feel so revolted by the temptation to kiss her?

No call came from Marian Park requesting her services. Kelly fretted through three days, then decided she had to take the initiative before it was too late to break the impasse.

Roy Farley answered her call.

'Thank you for your concern, Miss Hanrahan,' he said politely, 'but Mr St John does not require any more physiotherapy.'

Which had to be a lie, Kelly reasoned. 'May I speak to him, Mr Farley? He may not realise…'

'I'm sorry, Miss Hanrahan,' he cut in decisively. 'Mr St John is not available. I'll tell him you called, if that is what you want. Should he wish to get back to you, I'm sure he will.'

'Yes. Thank you,' Kelly said, completely squashed. No comeback possible on that line!

Well, let him suffer, if that was how he felt, Kelly thought belligerently. But that didn't solve the problem of the horses. And the Dapto show- jumping events were fast approaching. The horses needed to be worked. How was she going to get to Justin St John if he insisted on being unavailable? She didn't want to antagonise the man. Certainly not while Grandpa's land rights were still being settled.

It was a very tricky situation. She couldn't delay much longer. Already it was too late to get the horses into peak readiness. Rasputin was probably her only chance. The big black stallion-all sixteen point three hands of him-was a born jumper. If Justin St John would only take the time to listen to her… but how to make him?

The solution came two days later.

Kelly came home from work to a jubilant grandfather. 'The title deeds!' he shouted to her from the veranda, waving a sheaf of papers in the air. 'De- livered by special courier. They came this afternoon. He really did it, Kelly! We've got them!'

He rushed her inside to the kitchen and laid the important papers out on the table. 'All signed up and legal!' he gloated happily. 'I got Tom Kennedy to come and check them over. I could hardly believe it, but it's true all right. Tom says they're the real McCoy. No doubt about it. Judge Moffat was wrong.'

'I told you that Justin St John meant it, Grandpa,' Kelly reminded him, although even she felt dazed at the speed with which the promise had been fulfilled.

It was so good of him to have done it so fast! For one thing, it showed his power. For another, his integrity. And also the kindest consideration.

Kelly made her decision immediately. He should be thanked. Straight away. In person. It was the only decent thing to do.

She heaved a sigh of relief as the idea blossomed inside her. It was certainly the right course of action. And what better way to reach a friendly understanding with him? She was truly grateful for what he'd done, and she could show her gratitude. She wouldn't offer him physiotherapy again. She would insist he have it. And whenever he needed relief from pain, she would come to Marian Park and not charge him any extra for it.

And if he was as nice as he had been over settling Grandpa's land rights, and let her ride his horses, she wouldn't charge him any fee at all.

'We ought to thank him, Grandpa. You stay here and have your supper, I'll go on up to Marian Park and do it right now,' she announced decisively.

Her grandfather lifted a startled look. He was still reaching for words when Kelly swung into action. She didn't want to discuss the point. This was her best excuse to get Justin St John to see her, and she wasn't going to let anything or anyone stop her from speaking to him.

She whirled out of the kitchen, ran down the veranda steps to her car, leapt in, gunned the motor and drove up to Marian Park with absolute determination in her heart.

Kelly couldn't remember ever having knocked on Henry Lloyd's front door before. She had always walked right in, never doubting for a moment that she would be welcomed. It felt strange, discomfiting, having to wait for admittance. Worse to think she might not be admitted at all. But Kelly was not about to let that happen.

She was all primed up to tackle any argument. When the door opened, it was a pleasant relief to see Mrs Ryan's familiar face. The housekeeper had been at Marian Park for the last ten years and was an old friend. She was a plump, cheerful soul, past middle age but wearing very well, and many a time Kelly had been hugged to her generous bosom.

'Kelly!' Her smile was a beam of pleasure. 'I heard the good news from Tom Kennedy's wife, and I'm so happy for you,' she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

No doubt the Crooked Creek grapevine was working overtime, Kelly thought, but it made things easier for her. 'Thanks, Mrs Ryan. And I've come to thank Mr St John in person. Is he in?'

Her face fell. 'No. He's not.' A struggle of loyalties clearly overwhelmed the good-natured woman. 'That's the official line. But in actual fact he is here, Kelly,' she hissed. 'All I can do for you is take you into the drawing-room, and then tell Mr Farley you asked to see him. But you'll have to talk your way past him. I don't dare…'

'That'll be fine, Mrs Ryan,' Kelly assured her gratefully. 'And thanks a million.'

'It's not like what it was, Kelly,' the housekeeper said mournfully. 'But at least we all still have our jobs here. That's better than it could have been.'

Kelly pressed her arm in silent sympathy as she accompanied her inside. 'I don't think Mr St John can be a bad sort, Mrs Ryan. Not totally bad,' she assured her in a discreet whisper.

The housekeeper shook her head, obviously in two minds about that. 'He seems a kind enough man, Kelly,' she murmured. 'But everyone's so upset about this thing with the sheep. And he shouldn't have stopped you from riding…'

'Maybe he'll change his mind.'

The memory of Henry Lloyd's benevolent reign at Marian Park saddened them both as they entered the drawing-room. Nothing had been changed here, yet they knew everything had changed.

'I wish you luck, my dear,' Mrs Ryan sighed, and patted Kelly's hand before leaving to fetch Roy Farley.

Kelly's gaze automatically lifted to Noni's portrait above the fireplace, and she drew strength from it. Noni had died riding, but she would never have given it up if she had lived. And neither would Kelly give it up! Henry Lloyd had been proud of her for following in Noni's footsteps, and she would continue to do so. Justin St John had to understand that.

'Miss Hanrahan…’

She swung around to face Roy Farley, who remained poised in the doorway, his face carved in polite reserve.

'You wanted to see me about something?' he enquired.

'Where's Mr St John?' she demanded to know.

'I'm here to handle Mr St John's business.'

'Not the kind of business I want to talk about, Mr Farley. It's personal.'

'I'm sorry, Miss Hanrahan, but…'

'I'm not budging from this house until I see Mr St John. You can tell him that from me, Mr Farley,' she declared, striking a determined stand.

He stiffened into aloof dignity. 'Miss Hanrahan…'

'Please go and tell him!' Kelly commanded, her voice lifting to a loud ringing tone. 'It's ridiculous for him to be hiding behind you. And if he can't stand on his own two feet, then you'd better lead me to him. For one thing, he needs more physiotherapy. And it's ridiculous to deny that, too.'

'Mr St John has no further business with you, Miss Hanrahan,' he said frostily. 'If you can't accept that, I'm sorry. But if you won't leave of your own accord, I'll pick you up myself and carry you outside.'