by Margaret Way
“I’d give it all up to see you away from here,” she retorted.
“That’s damned unkind of you, Liv!” he drawled.
Olivia flashed a glance at the solicitor. That soul of discretion couldn’t disguise his dismay. “Harry’s wishes surely don’t bind me?” she challenged.
Gilbert Symonds emitted a deep sigh. “No, Olivia. You can’t be held by law to uphold your great-uncle’s wishes.”
“How’s that, Liv? You can fire me on the spot,” Jason suggested.
“I’m just about to do that,” she exclaimed.
“I’m sure you’re not,” Gilbert Symonds bought into it quickly. “You’re far too intelligent, Olivia. Your great-uncle is telling you something I think you should listen to. Jason here has been doing a splendid job of helping Harry run his affairs. Many the time I’ve had lunch with Harry when he’s sung Jason’s praises. Everyone in the district knows how quickly Jason has learned the ropes. It didn’t come as a surprise. Jason always was an exceptional young man.”
“Puh-lease,” Olivia groaned. “He doesn’t happen to be on my list of friends.”
“It’s only for a short time anyway,” the solicitor pointed out, employing his most reasonable tones. “Eighteen months to two years. You’d be foolish, Olivia, to deprive yourself and Linfield Enterprises of Jason’s expertise.”
A tidal wave of conflicting emotions was engulfing Olivia. “Have you forgotten our history, Gilbert?” she asked, more quietly. “Jason Corey jilted me on the eve of our wedding as you and the entire district know.”
“Move on, Olivia,” Jason advised laconically.
“I’ll move you on. I promise.” Olivia rose to her feet.
Gilbert Symonds looked up at her with a combination of sympathy and shrewd diplomacy. “You have a choice, Olivia. Find someone else to look after Harry’s many affairs, or honour his wishes. I want you to think hard about it before coming to a decision.”
“Did you hear that, Olivia? Think hard.” Jason got up and walked to the double doors of the library. “I promise I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Damned right you will,” she retorted with some fire. “I’m smart enough to run this whole damned operation myself. You men!”
“Hell, we’re not going to get into feminist arguments, are we?” Jason mocked.
“I’m just as smart as you and far more common sense,” Olivia told him scornfully. “Much as I loved Harry, he’s made a big mistake. Harry, of all people! Is there anyone of you I can trust?”
“I hope you trust me, my dear,” Gilbert Symonds chipped in, too much the lawyer to be tempted into interfering.
“Why don’t you settle down, Liv,” Jason said. “Harry left you the whole caboodle. All he’s asking is for you to learn the ropes as I had to. You’re smart, we all know that and you always did have more common sense than most, but you can’t expect to operate at the level I do right off. You need a bit of time. What about your career? Have you worked out a way you’re going to be able to manage the lot?”
Olivia gritted her small white teeth. “I thought you were out of here?”
“I decided I’d make the first move before you showed me the door. I could quit right now, Liv. I’m a half a million richer. Thank you, Harry.” He saluted some point in the ceiling. “But Harry left me in charge and if you don’t want to honour his wishes, I do.”
He strode out the library door, but Olivia charged after him. He was assuming command in her own house. The colossal hide of him! She had grown used to being shown respect. In her anger, she reached out and grasped his arm, her long nails digging in to his bare skin and she didn’t care. “It won’t work, Jason,” she threatened. “It absolutely can’t work.”
He wheeled to stare down at her, tall, lean, too powerful for her. His blue eyes shot sparks. “Like what do you think is going happen, Liv?” he demanded, his tone harshly derisive. “This? Is this what you’re afraid of?”
While her heart did a great somersault he hauled her into his arms, so masterfully she had to slump against him.
There was a crackling in her ears, as he brought his mouth down punishingly over hers, kissing her with a hot, hard, reckless abandon that ignited her insides. Adrenaline flooded her blood as he pushed her beyond resistance, filling her up with wanting…wanting. So much wanting she could never let him know.
When he let her go Olivia rocked on her feet, torn by shock and a deep running excitement that bruised her pride. “How dare you!” she blazed, guilt prompting action. “What effrontery!” The words spilled out in shuddering gasps. “How dare you treat me as an object. You bastard!” Before she could stop herself she lifted her hand to him as she had done once before in the past but Jason was ready for her.
“That woke you up, didn’t it?” he taunted, catching and holding her wrist aloft. “Beautiful Olivia! The Ice Maiden. Took your breath away, did I?”
“I hated it.” She jerked her hand away, passing the back of it over her mouth in an effort to wipe his kiss clean. It was too twisted to say she loved it.
“Oh well, I can do better.” His smile was sudden. An illumination. The smile once upon a time she had watched for.
Tremblingly she pointed to the door, her attitude so dramatic it would have been funny only she was so obviously upset. “Get out of here, Jason. You’ve shown me what you’re capable of. I not only hate you, I’m starting to hate myself.”
CHAPTER FIVE
OLIVIA did nothing whatever in the next few days. She remained quietly at the homestead, trying to manage her grief and the shock decisions Harry had called on her to bear. She made no move to venture around the estate. She knew Jason was going about the business of running Havilah. Let him. She didn’t interfere. She would bide her time. She was in no condition to make far reaching decisions. Not yet.
That kiss he had forced on her—she couldn’t handle thinking of it any other way—had proved beyond any shadow of doubt Jason was in her system to stay. It was up to her not to become a slave to her system. She of all people knew just how dangerous Jason could be. She decided to close herself into Harry’s study, catching up on estate affairs. She had a perfectly good brain. Harry had left her a fortune. It was up to her to decide the best way it could be made to work.
She fancied she heard Harry’s voice in her ear. “My word, Livvy, you’ve got your head screwed on right!”
She should have. She’d been learning from Harry since she was ten. In large part, at least until she had left Havilah Harry had talked to her about everything, explained everything, why he made his decisions. He’d encouraged her interest in all aspects of Linfield Enterprises. She had her own trust fund, which with Harry as her mentor she’d been able to make work for her of recent years playing the stock market. She soon learned in the course of her investigations Jason had persuaded Harry to expand in directions Jason had long advised. Harry had left a big stake in Orion Mining Company for instance—that was Jason at work. Probably he’d built himself a nice little nest egg. She had to consider in all fairness, Jason’s workload was excessive. Clearly Harry had come to rely on him for just about everything. The last year especially, Jason had virtually taken control. No wonder he was reluctant to relinquish power.
There were going to be a few changes around Havilah!
Her routine had developed into waking at seven, taking an early morning swim in the homestead’s beautiful pool, showering, dressing, reading the newspapers, then breakfasting out on the terrace beneath the huge, white fringed umbrella chatting with Gracie as she went back and forth. Grace had received news of her legacy with immense gratitude and a flood of tears. As far as Olivia was concerned Grace was welcome to stay on Havilah forever. Grace was more than a trusted employee. Grace was her childhood minder and her friend.
The rest of the time Olivia couldn’t pry herself loose from Harry’s study. What Jason had said was true—she couldn’t jump straight into the job. There was a great deal to learn.
By the start of the f
ollowing week she judged it time to tour the estate. She decided to do it on horseback. Harry had always kept a stable of good horses for exercise and relaxation There were some wonderful rides in and around the district. She hadn’t allowed herself to go rusty. She had been well taught since childhood to be a skilful rider and had kept up those skills by joining a club on the outskirts of Brisbane with its open rolling pastures.
Her zest for riding had never diminished. Loving horses she’d found was the key to success. Horses had highly developed senses like all animals, their hearing was exceptionally acute as well as their sense of smell, fear or timidity in the rider was easily perceived. Harry had often related the story of how his favourite mare, Bolero, had sensed the death of a close friend, one of a weekend riding party on Havilah. Harry had come on his friend who appeared at a distance to be enjoying a few moments lying quietly in the grass. Harry had called, but the well trained Bolero had baulked, refusing point blank Harry’s instructions to go forward. Harry’s friend, poor man, had suffered a fatal heart attack. Somehow the horse had smelled death. Horses were like that.
Olivia found there were fewer horses to choose from in the stable. The faithful mare, Cassandra, a gelding she didn’t recognise, a bright chestnut quarter horse called Brandy and a frisky, glossy flanked bay that extended its silky muzzle to be stroked.
“Hi there, fella!” She petted the colt, making the affectionate little clicking sounds horses liked. It looked clean-bred and it had big intelligent eyes. She had her ride. Stallions and colts were harder to handle than mares, fillies and geldings, but Olivia felt confident she could handle the colt. She liked a spirited ride. All she had to do was let the colt know who was boss.
She’d brought her riding gear with her, jodhpurs, boots, a few long-sleeved cotton shirts to protect the skin of her arms although she always rolled up the cuffs. A bandana around her neck protected her nape. Grace had retrieved her white wide-brimmed panama from the box where she’d stored it. Saddled up, she was set to go.
Tropical North Queensland was glorious country. Beautiful palm fringed bays, turquoise waters, white sand, lyrical landscapes, magnificent rainforests. Nature on a grand scale. Everything grew prolifically in the rich red volcanic soil. The skies over head were a consistent cloudless cobalt until the big heat of high summer when the air turned sultry, oppressive with humidity, and the monsoon swept in from the Coral Sea. Some years, it was accompanied by a cyclone or two. How many marvellous tropical storms had she witnessed, fascinated, frightened: the great resonating boom booms from the heavens, the glittering crackling lightning strikes, the wild bursts of hailstones some as big as tennis balls. It all seemed to add to the excitement.
Cyclones lashed the coast, torrential rains, then it all melted away. The flood dried up. The skies cleared miraculously. They were back to the dazzling eternal sunlight, the bush bursting into prodigious flower, miles and miles of canefields, that formed a brilliant mosaic with the fiery soils of the fields lying fallow or harvested of its cane. The thrill of the firing was in her blood; the great orange, violet shot towers of flames surging through the tall standing cane, the savage crackling, the smoke, the distinctive heavy smell of molasses in the air. The times at the mill with Harry watching the trainloads and trainloads of freshly cut cane coming in from the fields to the automated receiving stations, drawn up by endless conveyor belts to the crushers, the hum of the great retorts, the giant circular dryers processing the brown crystallised sugar. The tropical North was sugar. The whole process had been part of her life.
The harvesting at Havilah was now over. Legumes and other crops would be sown on the fallow ground to rejuvenate the soil. In the distance, on the jewelled horizon, reared the jagged line of the larkspur ranges that separated the verdant coastal strip from the vast lonely Outback. The Outback was unique. A place of infinite distances and savage grandeur. The Outback had a mystique of its own. For all the attractions of the cities nothing could match the atmosphere of the tropical North much less the continent’s Red Centre.
Gorgeous lorikeets winged overhead as she rode. Last night she’d heard the bats, the flying foxes, shrieking and flapping about in the garden, feeding off the abundant fruits. Nothing could stop them, no point in trying. Magpie geese had stopped all operations of cotton growing in the Territory where the bird life was prolific. Even the air force couldn’t frighten off the birds. They’d staked their claim and they won. Havilah revealed itself in all its marvellous luminous greens and burning reds, golden stubble, magnificent spreading domes of great shade trees, mango, fig, poinciana, magnolia, cascara; rampant bouganvillea that climbed up every fence and every work shed, stands of frangipani and oleander that had grown so huge they looked like trees.
It was the bluest day. So beautiful the disharmony in her heart seemed to leave her. About a half a mile on she found what she was looking for. The giant fruit bowl of exotic tropical fruits Jason had created. That alone would have commanded her respect and attention. Havilah was even more impressive than she remembered. Indeed it was obvious every last acre on Harry’s huge land holding had been put to good use.
And it was all hers. Very serious money. Very serious business. The trick was to learn how to run it or put in a manager and return to her career.
She already knew what she was going to do.
Havilah was her home. She found herself most truly in the beauties of Nature. It was like finding God.
She rode down a series of russet lanes between the prettiest little trees. They bore a fruit unfamiliar to her, but rather like a small bright red passion fruit. She resisted the temptation to pick one although the trees were covered in scarlet globes reminding her it was almost Christmas. So many aromas came to her nostrils, fruits and flowers. At the end of the avenue the colt trotted to a halt. She would have to find some shade. Little rivulets of sweat were running between her breasts but her ride had been a wonderful release. It had been a liberation from grief and seemingly insurmountable problems.
Beyond the orchard loomed virgin bushland. She wasn’t sure if it belonged to Harry or not. She cantered towards it surprised to see Jason emerge from the canopy of graceful native trees. He wasn’t alone, he was holding his little daughter’s hand. Tali was dancing along beside him her glossy dark curls crowned with a garland of delicate green creeper starred with tiny white flowers.
She tried to slam down her defences but she knew this wasn’t pure accident. The appalling truth was the weak part of her wanted to see Jason. She only had to look at him for him to get in under her guard.
The child called to her excitedly. “Hello, Livia. Hello!”
“Hello, Tali!” Olivia sat on the colt, waving back. She didn’t greet Jason, not even when they reached her.
He looked up at her with amused blue eyes. “I wondered when you’d get around to an inspection?” He extended a hand to her to dismount. “Let’s get out of the heat.”
Still she didn’t speak, sliding to the ground unaided. Once she had made a habit of sliding into his arms.
“I’m so happy you came to see us,” Tali said in a sweet little voice. “You’re not going to tell us to leave are you, Livia?”
Olivia didn’t know how to answer. The last thing she wanted was to uproot a small child, but what was she to do? Cheeks flushed Olivia slanted a quick glance at Jason. “Did your father tell you that?”
Tali’s face became anxious. “No, it was Nona. She said you’d be sure to want us to leave.”
“I’ve made no decision, Tali,” Olivia said, hearing Jason’s exasperated groan. There never had been any secrets with Renata.
“That’s a lovely horse.” The child looked admiringly at the colt who was busy tearing at some vegetation with its big teeth. “I wish I had a horse.”
“Surely your father can get you a pony? He could teach you to ride.” Jason was a fine horseman.
“And when would this be?” Jason asked laconically. “Running the plantation is a full-time job.”
“I realize that,” she heard herself say.
“We’re going home for some lunch,” Tali piped up. “I’d really love you to come.” She smiled up at Olivia revealing she had recently lost a tooth. A sprinkle of golden freckles decorated her nose. There was a little smudge of dirt on her cheekbone. With the diadem of flowers on her springy curls she couldn’t have looked more engaging.
“That’s very sweet of you, Tali, but I’m expected back at the house,” Olivia explained gently. She didn’t want to hurt the child’s feelings.
“Gracie won’t mind.” Tali put an arm around her father, including him. “Dad can ring her on his mobile. Please come.” Childlike Tali surged forward clutching Olivia’s hand. “You haven’t been here in ages. I think I know why. Don’t you want to see where we live?”
“I know where you live, Tali,” Olivia said, wondering how she was going to get out of this.
“Give the kid a break,” Jason drawled, shoving a hand through his dark red hair the sun had enriched to garnet. I-dare-you was eloquent in his stance. He was wearing his work clothes, this time a khaki shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, close fitting jeans, his dark golden throat and temples glistening with perspiration. Olivia looked away. “Blackmail?” she asked.
“What’s blackmail?” Tali’s query betrayed unease.
“I’m just having a little joke with your father, sweetheart,” Olivia said, already regretting she had used the word in front of the child.
“Weren’t you and Daddy supposed to get married years ago?” Tali asked taking a good long look at Olivia who was wearing in Tali’s opinion a super hat. “Nona told me,” she said, shaking some tiny white flowers from her head. “Nona and I have lots of long conversations.”
“Nona’s famous for her long conversations,” Jason remarked without a smile. “Some of them can damage a little girl’s ears. You’re asking Olivia personal questions Tali. You need to be good friends with someone before you can do that.”