Marion Lennox: A Millionaire For Molly

Then he’d made that one huge mistake. He’d fallen for Diane. He’d been young and he’d been foolish-and he’d let himself love. Or he’d thought he loved.

Then she was pregnant. ‘Great,’ he’d said, and he’d meant it. A family… For the first time in his life he’d conceded such a thing was possible, and the feelings he’d had for the unborn child had threatened to overwhelm him.

But a week before the wedding there’d been a note from someone warning him that he wasn’t the father. Say a name, the note had said, and see how Diane reacts.

He shouldn’t have done it. He should have trusted. But…

‘Have you heard of…?’ he’d asked-and all hell had broken loose. Stunned, he’d watched as the woman he’d thought he loved turned into a raging virago. How dared he question her? How dared he imply the baby wasn’t his?

But he hadn’t implied any such thing. All he’d said was the name.

The next morning she was gone. It had been a lying, cheating con, devised to steal money from a wealthy adolescent.

And that, with the history of his parents’ failed relationship, had left him determinedly single for ever. Cara was the only person he trusted.

The farm was to have been a place where they could base themselves when life got tough. Now the farm would be only his, and the thought made him feel unbearably alone.

Which was stupid. After all, he’d constructed his life so he’d be happy alone. It had taken him thirty-three years to get this far-he didn’t intend to regret it now.

But if Molly was here, waiting…

Molly would be with Michael.

Roger Francis had phoned just before Jackson left New York and told him they’d be arriving separately. Roger was driving himself, Miss Copeland was being driven by her chauffeur, and Molly and Sam and Michael were coming together.

Great!

Hell, he’d helped orchestrate her reconciliation with Michael, he thought savagely. He should be pleased.

He was pleased, he forced himself to decide. Sam would have a secure base. A secure family.

But with a man who’d been prepared to rob Molly blind…

It was none of his business! Hadn’t he learned anything from the past?

He looked out of the chopper and saw the eager faces of Doreen and Gregor waiting to greet him. They were his future. No one else. With a sigh he summoned up a matching smile.

This was a great buy. He should get on with it.

‘Michael, the road to Birraginbil’s to the north. You should have turned off back there.’

‘Are we going to Birraginbil?’

‘Of course we are.’

‘Look in the glove compartment, sweetheart. I have a surprise for you.’

‘A surprise?’

‘An engagement ring. And plans for a wedding.’

Things weren’t going to plan.

Hannah Copeland was receiving in state, seated formally in the vast front parlour, and her displeasure was obvious the moment Jackson walked in.

‘So you’re alone,’ she snapped. ‘What have you done with your fiancée, young man?’

‘I thought I told you,’ he said quietly, crossing to shake her hand, ‘Cara’s not my fiancée.’

Where was Molly?

‘Yes. But she’s someone you have an arrangement with.’

‘I did have an arrangement with her,’ he said honestly, and watched her face. Her displeasure grew.

‘You mean you haven’t now?’

‘No.’

‘Can I ask why not?’

‘I think that’s my business.’

She rose, matriarchal in her annoyance. ‘Then I’m not prepared to sell you my property. The arrangement was that I’d meet your intended.’

‘I don’t have an intended.’ He spread his hands. ‘There’s only me.’

Where the hell was Molly?

He managed a smile and decided honesty was the best policy here. His precious privacy could take a back seat.

‘Hannah, Cara is my half-sister,’ he told her. ‘She and I had arranged to share your farm, but she’s fallen in love with a Frenchman. So I’m alone. I love this place, and I’m prepared to look after it as you’d want it looked after. But I can’t give more than that. I can’t claim relationships that won’t happen.’

The old lady stared at him in bewilderment, and Jackson thought she could decide either way.

But then Roger Francis appeared at the door.

‘What is it?’ Clearly Hannah had no time for the smart lawyer and she was seriously displeased. ‘Have you heard anything from Miss Farr?’

‘Where’s Molly?’ For the first time Jackson voiced his thought. His brows clipped together. The agreement was that she’d be here well before him. Hell, if she didn’t even come…

‘I’m sorry.’ Roger Francis spread his hands in helpless anger. ‘Of all the inept… Mr Baird, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I should never have let you look at this property in the first place.’

‘What is it?’

‘Your realtor has taken off for her honeymoon-taking your contract and your titles with her.’

Silence. The silence went on for so long that it became jarring. Miss Copeland stared her displeasure at both of them, and Roger Francis coughed and stole a glance out of the window, avoided looking at Jackson. As well he might. Jackson’s face was stony and remote-like chiselled granite.

‘What happened?’ he asked at last, and Roger spoke again. Too fast.

‘She rang from the airport a couple of hours ago. I tried to catch you before you left Sydney but your mobile must have been switched off. So now I have to tell you. The phone call was from your Miss Farr… She sounded giggly and apologetic and altogether too foolish for words. It seems this Michael arrived last night with tickets to Hayman Island for himself, Molly and the boy. And plans for their marriage. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and, as she said, it’s not often you get an offer like that. So they left.’

So they left.

‘They were on the nine o’clock flight from Sydney.’

They’d almost passed in transit, Jackson thought, and he felt sick.

Why? Because of the farm?

No. He knew damned well that the farm didn’t come into it at all.

‘And what of the contracts?’ Hannah demanded, but her eyes were on Jackson’s face. She wasn’t interested in contracts-or farms-either. There were undercurrents here that she’d have to be obtuse not to understand.

Roger Francis spread his hands. ‘I have no idea what she’s done with them. Neither has her boss. I phoned him just now. He was playing golf with no idea of what had happened, and the news hit him as hard as it’s hit me. It seems she just dropped everything and went.’

More silence.

‘That’s that, then.’ Hannah’s voice was bleak and final. ‘No contracts. No partner. No Miss Farr. It seems I can’t sell you my farm even if I want to, Mr Baird. Maybe when we get back to Sydney we can-’

‘I don’t think we can.’ Jackson raked his fingers through his thick black hair and closed his eyes. His voice was as bleak as midwinter. ‘Hell.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Roger said, and Jackson opened his eyes again and focused on his lawyer.

‘You say you spoke to her?’

‘Yes.’

‘And she sounded happy?’

‘Yes, sir. Exceedingly happy.’

‘Damn.’ He swore. ‘I should have…’

‘But you didn’t.’ It was Hannah, looking at him with open curiosity and seeing where his mind was headed. ‘How about a fast trip to Hayman Island?’

‘I’d never make it in time. And if she loves the man…’

‘But what if she loves you ?’ she suggested gently-and waited.

‘I don’t know.’ He groaned. And then he caught himself. After all, he’d been trained since birth to receive blows. To receive hurt. He knew how to handle it.