Margaret Way - The Outback Engagement

“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.”