Margaret Way - The Outback Engagement

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.

“So I did.” She shrugged. “While you gave Beth Gilmour the best night of her life. Both of them now out of the picture.”

“Oh yeah?” he mocked. “I saw Beth only the other day.”

“Actually she’d make you a good wife.”

Curt gave her a disgusted look. “We’ve been through this before, Darcy. I’m allergic to having a wife picked out for me by you!”

The tantalizing aroma of perking coffee filled the kitchen. “You always taunt me about my single state. Why can’t I have a go at you?”

“Taunt away,” he invited, waving a careless hand. “You, my dear Darcy, are an open book. You want a review? It’s as I always tell you. You’re terrified of giving your heart away. You construct defences that make you feel safe, presumably against loss. Unfortunately loss is inevitable in life. You’ve been a victim. That’s why you’re compelled to act as you do.”

“You should have taken up psychiatry.” She raked an escaped lock of hair off her face.

He shrugged. “Anyone could see your conflicts.”

“Loving you a woman could get hurt badly.” She risked a glance at him, determined to keep her sensual self closed off when obviously she couldn’t.

“A woman meaning you. Don’t sound so miserable. Eventually you’ll work it out. I just hope you don’t leave it until your child bearing years are over. I think you’d make a great mother. I see you when you’re around little kids, teenagers come to that. Remember those so called problem kids we took on at Sunset last year? They thought you were great. You handled them so well. Firm but gentle, ready to listen, encouraging them. You interacted better than anyone else. Including my mother. I recall an eternity ago I had high hopes for us.”

For a few seconds she had difficulty continuing with what she was doing. Her hands shook. “I wouldn’t have been good for you, Curt. Nor you for me. We’d have ruined each other’s lives by now. I thought we’d established that.” Once she and Curt had been lovers—one of those great desperate romances that ended very badly. There was danger in even stirring over the ashes.

Determinedly she switched the conversation. “So what did Dad say?”

The corners of Curt’s firm mouth turned down. “That’s right, change the subject. I messed up, didn’t I? I should have made allowances for your insecurities instead I frightened you away. Maybe you saw it as self-preservation. But Darcy, I thought you were ripe for loving.”

She sought sanctuary at the kitchen sink. “Was I wrong or did we take our loving to extremes? If you’d asked me to run off to the other side of the world with you I would have. Then what would have happened to Dad? It was bad enough trying to keep all my feelings locked away despite having plenty of experience.”

“Don’t you realise the fact you felt compelled to lock your feelings away indicates a serious problem,” Curt asked with a hint of severity. “Your father has been the cause of much unhappiness, Darcy. I think you provide the clearest illustration.”

The truth of that gripped her. “Please, Curt, let it go. It’s all ancient history anyway. I might look tough but underneath I’m mighty vulnerable.”

“You’re telling me? You project your mother’s problems on to yourself. As far as looking tough? You might be a fighter, Darcy, but look tough, you don’t. I’ve had so much time to consider. You ran from me because you felt threatened. Is that it? You never attempted to explain. Poor mug me, was on top of the world. I just floated through life then, on Cloud Nine. I know you were frightened of your own sex drive let alone mine. Anyone would think our lovemaking had corrupted you.”

She could never forget the intensity. “It was incredibly passionate.” She lowered her head, not allowing him to see her eyes. “Maybe I thought your idea of me wasn’t the real me. How could you have professed to love me so much? You could have had anyone. All the blue-blooded society girls. Not tormented old me. I was paralysed by the fear you’d eventually cast me aside and I needed to get out before then. Maybe what you’re saying is true. I can’t differentiate between myself and my mother. What happened between us got way out of control. Isn’t the word passion derived from the Greek penthos to grieve? Strong passions can cause suffering.”

“So your answer was to escape? I never knew you were such a coward.”

“There’s lots you don’t know,” she said, suddenly wanting to run. “How could I cope with being Curt Berenger’s wife? Now that’s a big job. Who knows some time down the track I could be sent packing.”

He put his hands flat on the table and stared at her. “It all comes back to your own family. I don’t care to be lumped in with your father.”

Darcy shook her head. “Aren’t you both alpha males?”

He reacted vehemently to that. “The only similarity is we’re both cattle men, extraordinarily successful at what we do. In your father’s case, did. I do not have a callous hand with women. I am not a womaniser despite your quite insulting ideas. I am not bloody mean and shockingly selfish and I’m fairly certain I don’t have the reputation for being a bastard. I’m intelligent, good natured and dare I say it, attractive. You’re the only woman I know who goes into panic mode at the very sight of me. Don’t bother denying it. I can see through the smoke screen.”

“Maybe you can,” she expressed a sigh. “But what’s in it for us, Curt, but high risk? For a while there you had me body and soul. It’s something I can’t allow.”

“Fearless in so many ways, timid in others,” he accused.

Darcy shook her head. “You say timid. I say keeping myself together.”