Marriage at Murraree

by Margaret Way

She caught her breath. Exhaled. It was nice of Leah to warn her Troy had the perfect wife-to-be tucked away. What was her name? Sandra something. Ah, yes, Sandra Gordon.

  “It’s high time Troy settled down!” Leah, eighteen months his junior had pointed out. “Start a family. Dad needs grand-kids.”

  “You can provide him with that!” Darcy had reminded her.

  The answer: “Hell, no! I’m having too much fun.”

  What if I held out my heart to him? Casey thought. What if he refused it? What if he used and abused it? There’s no safety in love affairs. Desire blurred all thought of caution. One false move and life could never be the same again.

  Afterwards there was dancing in the cool of the terrace. The pool was floodlit, the water the translucent aqua of Darcy’s eyes. Courtney saw Darcy and Curt move into one another’s arms. Lovers coming home. Darcy rested her temple against his chin. Their love for each other was so radiant it created some kind of force field around them. Courtney wondered if she and Casey would ever be blessed with a love like that. She knew deep inside her she had already met a man she wanted to love her. She wasn’t such a fool she didn’t know he was more than half way in love with her. Getting him to love her was far harder. He had confessed how one woman had betrayed his trust. It was quite possible he still hadn’t worked that one out. Trust, she knew, was very important to Adam.

  “Hey!” His clean breath touched her cheek as he bent his dark head to her. “What’s going on? Not dancing or are you waiting for Paddy? He’s rather smitten.”

  “I’ve been trying hard to attract him.”

  She shimmered before him. Her hair shimmered, her eyes, her skin, her dress. The upward tilt of her delicately determined chin let Adam know her hostility hadn’t diminished.

  “Well you’re certainly distracting him,” Adam pointed out, his tone deepening with humour. “Could I perhaps bully you into a dance?” he mocked, then without waiting for an answer, he lightly encircled her waist, drawing her away from the vine wreathed pillar that had framed her.

  She let him, her expression cool as a lily, underneath coping with a surge of excitement. Wasn’t she yearning to be in his arms, hypocrite that she was! Try coping with that!

  “That’s a lovely dress. I’ve never seen it before.” He gazed down at her, thinking she looked exquisite. He also knew she was determined not to give him whatever he wanted. Her pride required it.

  “I kept it just for you,” she smiled up at him sweetly, sarcasm in her eyes.

  “Now, now,” he chided. “I’ve forgotten about our little spat. Why don’t you?”

  “Because I know it’s going to start up again sometime soon. Just as a matter of interest, have you run into my dear friend, Barbra in Brisbane? More likely she hunted you.”

  “You don’t expect a yes to that?” he asked laconically.

  “Aren’t you a man who demands the truth? Whereas I lie effortlessly.”

  “Don’t, Courtney.” He turned her with one fluid movement to avoid bumping into Leah and Paddy who appeared to be having their own confrontation. “You’re a beautiful, graceful dancer. Anyone would think we’d be practising together.”

  His own rhythms and instincts were excellent, Courtney thought but she wasn’t to be put off. She was aware Adam had been watching her closely at dinner even if no one else saw it. Maybe Casey. Casey’s sapphire eyes had been busy sizing them all up. “Had you arranged to meet? Did Barbra promise you she’d bring along her friend, Gillian, to back her story? Gillian’s another one who hated being passed over. Just a yes or a no. That’s all I ask.”

  “Then will you stop?” Adam stared into her sparkling eyes, trying hard to maintain a calm exterior. “It’s such a beautiful night. I have a beautiful girl in my arms. Dinner was marvellous by the way. You’re a very accomplished young woman.”

  “Forget the distractions. Well?” she probed.

  “Yes or no! One’s the right answer. The other isn’t.”

  “So it’s a yes?” Courtney guessed correctly, not needing his confirmation, which in fact he didn’t supply.

  Adam groaned. “Barbra waylaid me in the lobby of our office building. Personally I think she’s more interested in me than you. I don’t like to sound big-headed, but a lot of women find me attractive.”

  “It’s like water off a duck’s back to you, isn’t it? Master of your own fate. Your standards are exceptionally high. Of course she created a very bad impression at the Polo Ball so she had to re-establish herself with you as a solid citizen. In the process she dished up more dirt on Courtney McIvor, the man-eater?”

  Adam looked down at her with his brooding dark eyes. “I make a living out of dealing with all sorts of people in a civilised way, Courtney. Actually I was a little cool with Barbra. I told her I had a big afternoon coming up, which I did and went on my way. Satisfied?”

  She bit her lip. “You’ve told me enough. Trust counts for a lot. Your ex-girlfriend—the one who lived in—the one who cheated on you did a lot of damage.”

  “A man has his pride, Courtney,” he said dryly. “What you have to do now is relax.” He pulled her in closer, wanting to pick her up and spirit her away. It would be easy enough. “Let’s go for a ride in the morning. Up to it? I mean early. Say around six?”

  “I have to get breakfast,” she lamented, thereby betraying her desire to join him.

  “You don’t have to do anything. With the possible exception of Leah, your girlfriends seem pretty capable to me.”

  “Of course they are. It’s just that—”

  “Forget it,” he said. “In any case we’ll be back.”

  “Ride as in horses?” The mistress of any number of intricate dance steps, Courtney actually stumbled, provoking a mocking “ouch!”

  “That was the idea unless you’d prefer to take one of the vehicles.”

  “No, a horse is fine just so long as it’s not Tango,” Courtney said wryly, recalling how she had taken a tumble from the part-thoroughbred filly. “No good putting me on a hot-tempered horse. I’m not a good enough rider, though Darcy keeps telling me how much I’ve come on. I’m afraid my father did such a good job of undermining my confidence I’ll need time to get over it. Casey now is a natural. I think she could stay put on anything.”

  Adam could well see it. Casey looked one spunky, take-no-nonsense young woman. Horses had the natural ability to take the measure of the rider. If the rider was nervous the horse knew straight away. Similarly, confidence was a big part of getting the best out of a horse. An excellent rider himself, sympathetic to Courtney’s problem caused by the insensitivity of her late father, Adam thought he could offer her some good advice. His main aim, however, was not so altruistic. He was desperate for them to be on their own.

  When Darcy asked Casey would she sing for them, Casey responded at once. Apart from ignoring Leah’s somewhat blatant attempts to scuttle any relationship she might be thinking of embarking upon with her brother, the evening had been a great success. Dancing with Troy the enjoyment had increased one hundred fold. Despite his size—Troy was a big man—he was as light on his feet as a cat. A big cat. Usually Casey looked down on a lot of guys. It was remarkably satisfying looking up.

  Because everyone was in such a mellow mood she began with a couple of crowd pleasers that caught them up and had them clapping their hands.

  Troy had never doubted for a moment they would love her. Casey had star quality. And that was the danger. Her talent could take her away from him. She only had to cut a CD, have one hit and she’d move on. He realised he wasn’t going to get out of this unscathed. McGuire had got to him. Casey McGuire-McIvor. Leah was no fool. She knew as only women did, Sandra Gordon, the family choice, was out of the running.

  “Sing ‘Song for Marnie’,” he called to her. The last time she had sung it he’d been incredibly moved. Powerful emotions had flowed from her to him. He wanted to tell her about his own beautiful mother. About the cloud that hung over her memory.

  She l
eaned towards him, the expression on her face that of the true artist. “If I can.”

  “You can.” He felt he could support her through anything. With everything he had.

  “What do you mean?” Leah asked, sharp as a knife. She looked from one to the other. Wasn’t it enough this Casey was knock-em-dead stunning, Jock McIvor’s illegitimate daughter, she was a wonderful singer who made the guitar talk. Worse, Leah felt her brother Troy, was wild about her.

  “It’s a sad song, that’s all,” Casey said

  “Sad song! Sad songs are fantastic!” Paddy Nicholls exclaimed, absolutely delighted with this marvellous new turn of events. These McIvor women were really something. Talk about the Three Graces! Brunette, redhead, blonde. All beautiful enough to make a man grovel. Besides, always on the look-out for a business opportunity, Paddy thought there could be something in it for him. “I know people in Sydney who’d love to have you on their books, Casey,” he told her. “Glenn Gardiner is a pal of mine.” He named a top flight theatrical entrepreneur. “I could introduce you.”

  “He could, too!” Leah actually smiled. “Glenn would sign you up in a minute.” Now suddenly there was a way to get rid of this Casey. Their father would be mighty upset if Troy didn’t toe the line and marry Sandra. But then Troy had been refusing point blank to toe the line since they had lost their mother. From then on he’d been in open rebellion against their father giving her the opportunity to win their father’s affection.

  “You’re as good as I’ve heard, Casey,” she added enthusiastically, hoping her big smile was on straight.

  “Better,” said her brother, giving Casey a long gleaming you-and-me look.

  “‘Song for Marnie’ if you would, Casey,” Darcy requested gently, not at that moment knowing if Marnie was a real person or not. How could she? Casey had always found talking about her mother too deeply disturbing. She had never mentioned her mother’s Christian name to Darcy or Courtney.

  Casey sat on the high stool Troy quickly found her.

  Hell, he was behaving like her manager, Leah thought, torn between jealousy and fascination.

  There she was, the new woman in Troy’s life. A stunning-looking redhead in tight designer jeans with the contrast of a gleaming very womanly satin wrap top that showed off the contours of her beautiful breasts. High heeled black sling-backs were on her feet. No trying to lessen her height, she seemed to flaunt it. Her magnificent red-gold-copper-apricot coloured hair—the lot—fell over one shoulder and tumbled down her back in lush deep waves. Her shallow cleft chin pointed up the beauty and strength of her bone structure. Her startling sapphire eyes were veiled by her sweeping eyelashes as she bent over the guitar, her long fingers plucking strings as she strummed random chords.

  Finally she looked up. Her gaze homed in on Troy’s. “This is for my mother,” she said. It was not by design those words came out. It was more the effect of having Troy’s mesmerising golden eyes rest in hers.

  The bright songs had beguiled them. The sad song they reacted to in different ways. All were enormously affected. Those that still had their mother which was everyone with the exception of Troy, Leah and Adam, felt blessed by that fact. The throbbing emotion in Casey’s low rich voice conveyed to them in losing her mother Casey’s heart had been ripped apart.

  When she finished Casey raked her tumbling hair back from her face. Her sapphire eyes were extraordinarily brilliant.

  For long moments her small audience sat spellbound, then they began to applaud not with the exhilaration of her previous two songs but with quiet deep appreciation.

  Courtney unashamedly let the tears stand in her eyes. “That was beautiful, Casey,” she breathed, profoundly moved by singer and song. “Song for Marnie” was rather like “Danny Boy”. She couldn’t listen to “Danny Boy” without crying. Both songs broke her heart.

  “I’d do anything to be able to sing like you,” Lisa who had tried her hand at Country and Western moaned. “Paddy’s right. You have a big career coming up.”

  Sitting on the couch beside Courtney, Adam felt the light trembling throughout her delicate body. He wanted to pull her across his knees. Cradle her to him. Kiss her tender, sensitive mouth. How well he understood her tears. He thought her tears as lovely as pearl drops. “Song for Marnie” had upset him to the point he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control the on-rush of all the old pain. Like Casey he knew all about agony. He had experienced the tragic death of his mother firsthand as had Casey. They had been there.

  “You’re an artist, Casey.” Quietly he saluted her, taking a clean handkerchief from his pocket and passing it to Courtney who straightaway dabbed at her drowning blue eyes.

  “If I were you, Casey,” Leah called in a tight voice, for she, too, had been gripped by emotion, “I’d take Paddy up on his offer. You’ll bypass the hassle of trying to establish yourself. Paddy can organise things as soon as he gets back to Sydney. I’m going with him. I think it’s pretty clear to all of us you have a big future.”

  So where does that leave me, Troy thought, his golden eyes still locked on Casey

  Open the cage and the beautiful bird flies away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SUNUP presented its own magic. In the east a majestic ball of fire rose above the horizon sending long rays of golden light spearing across the desert. The air as yet was wonderfully crisp, deliciously scented by the feathery acacias and so clear everything had a knife edge delineation like a giant film set newly painted. A small group of tan-red kangaroos watched them ride by, the curious angle of their heads and their wonderfully expressive body language suggesting they were eagerly expecting a team of riders to follow.

  The birdsong was unbelievable—impossible to separate the different voices—squadron after squadron winging and shrieking overhead. From the lagoons, the billabongs and water holes that criss-crossed the station water birds rose with a mighty thunder of wings. The Channel Country was a major breeding ground for nomadic water birds. In the reed and lily shadowed swamps the Ibis built their nests. The Ibis were the friends of the cattlemen because their huge flocks arrived just in time to feast on the grasshoppers that would otherwise strip bare valuable herbage for the cattle.

  In the remote swamps far from prying human eyes the pelicans built their nests. Pelicans were great flyers. They could be seen across the landscape soaring to great heights then hovering on rising thermals so they could spot the best water-holes. But the great sights of the Outback were the millions of chattering budgerigars, the white corellas and the galahs in their pink and grey suits.

  Adam pointed to the sky already deepening to a smouldering blue. “I’ve never seen so many ducks in my life. There must be thousands of them.”

  “Tens of thousands more like,” Courtney corrected, shading her eyes to look up. “One of my earliest memories is the arrival of the Whistling Tree Ducks. They cover the swamps like wall to wall carpets. If you were feather-light you could walk across the lagoons on their backs. On moonlight nights they have a tendency to mistake shining roof tops for moonlit waters and land with a mighty thunk!”

  “I’ve heard that,” he said. “Casey could write a lot of songs out here. Quiet waters might calm her soul. Speaking of waters, why don’t we take a breather over there.” He pointed off to the left. Through a screen of bauhinias the sun bounced off a broad sheet of water turning the surface to pure silver.

  Don’t start getting nervous. Nervous women make mistakes. “Lovely!” she said, following his lead. The bauhinias, the butterfly trees, in springtime flower, white, pink or cerise, were one of her favourite sights.

  They dismounted, leaving their horses in the shade to bend their glossy necks to munch pale green sweet succulents. A shore of yellowish sand surrounded the quiet lagoon where cream waterlilies held their exquisite heads high above their dark green pads and the sparkling beauty of the crystal water. Fresh animal tracks leading down to the water were perfectly printed on the bone dry sands.

  “I don’t kno
w why you say you’re not a good rider,” Adam remarked, thinking she looked immaculate in her riding gear. “You can ride and quite well.” They had in fact covered a lot of ground, giving the horses their head in an exhilarating gallop that gave Courtney no trouble.

  “Call it choice of mount,” she laughed, glancing back at her deep chestnut mare. “Lady Lucy is more than just a pretty face. She has the sweetest disposition. I wouldn’t saddle up Starlight.” She referred to Adam’s spirited choice.

  “Starlight’s a wonderful horse,” Adam said lazily, lowering himself to the sand and holding out his hand to her.

  She took it. Briskly let it go. Violent delights have violent ends. “Definitely. He’s also temperamental.”

  “And too big for you by more than a full hand,” Adam said. “It’s a good idea to match horse to rider.” He rested back on one elbow, discarding his Akubra, grateful for the shade. “Sometimes I think I did the wrong thing not taking over my granddad’s property. I wanted to set the world on fire. I had a good brain. I wanted to use it. I have no regrets, but all the while I find myself wanting something else. Practising law has given me a sense of achievement and exponentially put quite a lot of money in my pocket but coming out here so often reminds me how much I love the land. How much I miss it. The great peace and freedom it provides. I particularly love the Channel Country. The riverine desert has a rare magic.”

  “Sounds like you’ve fallen in love?” she murmured.

  “I can’t hide it.” He turned his lean handsome face towards her, something in his eyes causing her heart to flutter like leaves in a strong breeze.

  She took refuge in talk. “Are you saying some time down the track you might abandon legal practice for another career?”

  He shrugged. “It happens. At the moment I’m just saying I’m looking for answers. I’m looking for a life of value. Not chasing paper trails and pulling off corporate deals that can be met within the law. Many of my clients are highly intelligent people who prize ruthlessness. Ruthlessness gets them what they want. It’s not so much a question of money but power though obviously you need one to get the other. I like to think I have some of my spiritual aspirations intact. It was the way I was raised. Curt is a man I admire. He’s quite remarkable. To a certain extent he’s buoyed by his family name, the trust and the goodwill that generates, but he’s both a mover and a visionary. Already a force within the industry. This country needs men like Curt Berenger.”