His Heiress Wife

by Margaret Way

  Olivia walked quickly to where the colt was tethered in the shade, its graceful neck bent to the grass. Her emotional stress was absolute. “Oh, shut up, Jason,” she cried, lifting herself into the saddle and tugging on the reins. “Shut up and leave me alone.”

  “Bye, Olivia.” He gave her an over-the-top derisive wave. “I’m honoured by your hate. Hate is better than nothing at all.”

  When she was safely clear of the house, Olivia burst into tears, allowing them to run unchecked down her face. She was no phoenix rising from the flames. Her heart was still amid the ashes.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE weeks to Christmas flew by with Olivia totally immersing herself in all things Havilah. With the school holidays it was impossible to keep Tali out of the house, not that Olivia made any attempt to. She would have felt terrible had she ignored Tali’s motherless plight. Besides she was growing very fond of the child. Tali was a smart, vivacious little girl, ricocheting from one subject to the other, keeping Olivia and Grace laughing, tutting or both. Tali responded to affection like a seedling to the sun. Only occasionally did she let something slip about her troubled life with her mother. That last day when Megan had taken her small daughter by the hand and told her: “I’m never coming back, Natalie. Your father doesn’t love me. I don’t love you. I have to look for a new life. So good luck and goodbye.”

  Tali at four had remembered word for word. She had no difficulty telling people her mother was never coming back. Of course Olivia heard all about Renata’s judgement of Megan; “A cat would be loads better at being a mother!” In the course of Tali’s visits, Olivia managed to hear all the stories. Renata, it seemed, discussed most things with her great grand-daughter as if she were a woman of the world instead of a six-year-old. Tali’s relationship with her Nona, which no one wanted to break up, was a touch worrying. Renata was filling the child’s head with stories no way appropriate to her years.

  Olivia heard about the old scandals. Including hers. New scandals. Who was breaking up with whom. The odd murder or two. The way some tramp passing through had murdered a child of the town and left the body in a canefield. The way a friend had always told Renata her husband had died but he was really in a mental institution. The seemingly ageless Renata was full of high drama to the point of alarm. She lived to talk. The only trouble was her main confidante was a six-year-old child. Still the two shared a strong bond.

  She saw Jason on occasions. She had to. There were always matters concerning the plantation to be discussed. Sometimes she gave him instructions. Jason took them with an inclination of his fiery head but she didn’t want to interfere with what he was doing. It was largely due to Jason, Linfield Enterprises were running so smoothly and so profitably. Nonetheless she wanted it made perfectly clear who was boss.

  One brilliantly hot December morning that promised a late afternoon thunderstorm, she called Jason to the house to discuss the annual Christmas party for Havilah’s employees and their families. She wanted to continue the tradition Harry had started.

  She met Jason on the front terrace where she’d arranged for Gracie to serve morning coffee. The civilities had to be maintained. She disliked acting any other way, even with Jason. Besides Jason had made it perfectly plain their relationship was strictly business. Her looking after Tali more or less on a regular basis was not discussed. It had emerged as a fait accompli. Tali was the one they both cared about, the cement who held them together.

  “Harry always stuck to a big outdoor barbeque,” Jason said, lounging back in his chair with all the athletic grace of characteristic of him. “The kids love it and so do the parents. They don’t have to worry then about their kids running about the house, may be knocking something horrendously valuable over. We get people in to cater—Marco’s last year—it’s much too big a job for Gracie.”

  “I know that,” she answered, using the cool, clipped tone she so often used with him. It was a pathetic defence mechanism. “So we continue to use Marco’s?” Marco’s was a well-established restaurant and catering business.

  “I’d give Robyn’s Kitchen a go,” he said, taking a sip of the steaming hot coffee. Not as good as his, but it would do. “It’s in town. You don’t know Robyn, Robyn Nelson, she and her little boy moved here a few years back. She’s a great cook. A lot of people use her for their parties nowadays. She’s cheaper than Marco but I think her food’s better. Better presented, too.”

  “Is there a Mr. Nelson?” she surprised herself by asking. Damn!

  His blue eyes rested on her speculatively. “Robyn’s on her own. The marriage didn’t work out, apparently.”

  “That’s sad especially for the child. You sound as though you’re friendly with Mrs. Nelson?”

  He smiled. “Robyn Nelson isn’t the only woman I’m friendly with, Olivia. Did you expect me to stay celibate?”

  “Not really. I’d expect you to take comfort here and there, though the way you work one might have thought you’d be too tired for sex. Anyway, that’s your business. I’m sorry I brought up the subject. So you can recommend Robyn’s Kitchen?”

  He studied her as she sat like a princess in the high-backed peacock chair. She wore white in so fine a cotton it was almost sheer a V-necked sleeveless top, matching skirt with a series of pin tucks around the hem. Her silky black hair was long and loose. Her lovely skin had taken on the faintest sheen of gold. It lit up her eyes. He’d thrown it all away when he’d lost Olivia.

  “I said, can you recommend Robyn’s Kitchen?” Olivia repeated, finding she couldn’t sustain his gaze on her. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking. She didn’t want him to know what she was feeling. Her heart was no longer on ice. He had warmed it so quickly she was in terrible danger of having it stolen away again. Wasn’t that cause enough for trepidation?

  “Robyn, absolutely,” Jason said with no lack of enthusiasm. “Give her a call. She’ll be thrilled to handle it.”

  “I don’t want her to handle everything,” Olivia said, vaguely rattled by his enthusiasm and ashamed of it. “I have my own ideas, but I’m sure we can work it out between us. That’s if she’s happy to take suggestions. Great cooks can be temperamental.”

  “Not Robyn!” The firm line of his mouth softened. “She couldn’t be more easy to get on with.” As he spoke he half turned in his chair, staring out at the heat hazed garden. “Isn’t that young Danny running around out there?”

  Olivia followed his gaze. “That’s Danny the Caped Crusader. I haven’t actually heard him say more than two words, but he talks his head off with Tali. We invited him over. I spoke to his mother, she was happy about it.”

  I bet! Jason thought. In the town it was considered really something to get an invitation to Havilah for whatever reason. The Linfields had always been local royalty.

  “Or I wonder if he’s Dracula?” Olivia was slowly asking, looking across the expanse of lawn to where a small black cloaked, bemasked figure with the hem of his flying cloak trailing on the grass was ducking in and out of a grove of golden canes. “Tali loves all the bloodthirsty stuff.”

  “That’s Renata’s influence,” Jason admitted wryly, running his thumb across his tanned cheek. “I’ve been closing my eyes a bit when it comes to my grandmother. She fills Tali’s head with all kinds of hair raising nonsense.”

  “Tali seems to take it in her stride. I doubt you could stop Renata anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t like to be the one to try.” He laughed in his throat.

  It was such a seductive sound! She could feel her own weakness. Where once there was sweetness, now this bitter taste in her mouth. “Something I wanted to ask you.” She reverted to formal in a second. “Do the Duffys still work at the mill?”

  He slewed back to face her, having checked Tali, also becloaked in what appeared to be a white single bedsheet, was right behind Danny. “You don’t want them?”

  “No.” Olivia frowned. “Though I don’t see how I could leave them out.”

  “Well you don�
�t have to bother your head,” Jason told her dryly. “The Duffys moved away years ago. They bought a citrus farm much further down the coast at Silverton.”

  “Really?” Tali never mentioned her maternal grandparents, which didn’t mean they weren’t around. Olivia had scrupulously avoided questioning the child to gain information. The Duffys had always kept to themselves in their rambling bungalow on the edge of the rainforest. As children Megan and Sean had run around like little ragamuffins. “Do they never want to see Tali?” she asked. How could they not? Their grandchild.

  “Hell, Olivia, you’re way behind the times,” Jason stated flatly. “They didn’t want to see Megan, let alone Tali. Jack Duffy has to be the most unforgiving bastard I’ve ever met.” He looked straight at her with his blue eyes.

  Olivia found herself flushing. “It sounds as though you’re tempted to add, outside me?”

  “I’d only say that when you’re safely out of earshot,” Jason quipped. He picked up a small cake from the pretty bone china plate, threw back his head, and bit off a chunk with his fine white teeth.

  Every damn thing he did was erotic she thought even eating a piece of cake. There were copper lights burning in his red hair. A thick wave fell forward onto his forehead. He put up a hand and thrust it away. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. “How strange! About the Duffys I mean,” she said, barely maintaining her cool. “I would have thought they’d be thrilled to have you for a son-in-law?” Every other family in town would have been.

  Jason shook his head in denial. “Jack told me the day we were married I’d never have a day’s happiness with his daughter. His anger didn’t seem to be so much directed at me as at Megan. It didn’t make sense. Sean was the same, only nastier.” Jason had no intention of telling her what Sean had actually said: “You should have made bloody sure the kid’s yours. She’s a cunning one, is Megan.”

  Of course Tali was his, Jason had never doubted it for a moment. Megan was all sorts of things but she wouldn’t have lied about that. That amounted to a sin. Tali was the cutest little kid in the world and she had his blue eyes. The sad truth was the Duffys didn’t want Tali to be part of their family. Come to that, he didn’t want Tali mixing with the Duffys—there was nothing to admire about any of them.

  Olivia invited Robyn Nelson to the house that same afternoon to discuss the upcoming staff Christmas party. Robyn turned out to be very attractive woman of medium height, with a short cap of blond hair, golden brown eyes, a pert retrousse nose and a thin but noticeable scar across her cheek. She wore a black T-shirt, white linen slacks, that showed off a good figure and she carried a tan brief case. Her good looks were such that they triumphed over the facial imperfection, but the scar wasn’t easy to ignore. Olivia estimated she was in her early to mid-thirties. She had an open, pleasant manner with the necessary confidence in her ability to handle a function of the size Olivia had in mind; some hundred and fifty people in all including the children.

  Olivia took an instant liking to her. She wondered how Robyn had come by her scar. Was it an accident of some sort? Olivia thought plastic surgery might help. Most women would have sought advice for the problem, especially when they were as young and good-looking as Robyn.

  “Come and I’ll show you the entertainment area,” Olivia invited, leading the other woman through the house. “It’s large and it adjoins the pool-house area. I’ve decided against any swimming as it’s too much of a worry with the children even when they’re supervised. Besides, there will be so much food, and other entertainments. I’m thinking of hiring clowns to entertain the kids. Before it’s time to leave Santa will arrive to hand out their presents.”

  “Sounds like a lot of fun!” Robyn smiled.

  “We’ll work hard to make it that. Your little boy might like to come as you’ll be working,” she suggested with a smile. “I’m sure he’ll know many of the other children and I’ll see to it that he’s looked after.”

  “I’m sure he’d love to come,” Robyn Nelson responded, her lightly tanned skin going quite pink.

  “I thought three large open-sided marquees. One exclusively for the drinks, another for the sweets, desserts, cakes, whatever and tables and chairs will be set up inside the other. The rest can take place in the open air.”

  Robyn nodded. Since she’d walked through the door all she could do was stare and stare. “What a beautiful, beautiful house this is,” she commented with obvious admiration. “And so wonderfully furnished. I envy you living in a place like this, Miss Linfield. It’s a tropical palace.”

  “Thank you,” Olivia said. “It is lovely isn’t it.” She’d been aware of Robyn’s interest. “And please do call me Olivia. I take great comfort from my home. Havilah is a healing place. The entertainment area is just out here.” She led the way through the open French doors, gesturing about with her hand.

  The entertainment area with the lushly landscaped garden beyond had evolved over the years into an impressive al fresco dining area. Harry Linfield had often used the rear terrace for breakfast and Olivia continued Harry’s habit. At the moment sunlight streamed across the tiled terrace but there were motorized green and white striped awnings for protection in the heat. From the terrace a few steps led down to the mosaic tiled pool. The pool pavilion was adjacent. The whole effect was elegant, sophisticated but casual. It was an area to be enjoyed.

  “This is a wonderful setting.” Robyn looked at Olivia with pleasure. “I can’t wait to get started. I’ll certainly begin the planning. You must tell me exactly what you want.”

  “I expect my plans are much the same as yours, Robyn.” Olivia smiled. “Beef of course. Carpet bag steaks, T-bones, children like sausages and meat balls, kebabs, but I think seafood is marvellous for the barbeque as well. King prawns, tuna steaks, marinated octopus, even mullet is great cooked whole wrapped in banana leaves, maybe with a pepper salad. Barbequed garlic clams, lobster tails with jacket potatoes and roe, hot spiced barramundi…I’m remembering all the barbeques we had when I was growing up. Guests always love to help but I don’t like it when good food gets burned. There’s an art to the successful barbeque.”

  “Of course there is,” Robyn, the serious chef agreed.

  “And a lot of preparation. You have staff to help you, Robyn?”

  “I have two full-time staff working with me these days, both experienced and excellent at their jobs. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

  “I want a Christmas theme naturally,” Olivia continued. “We might check out the linen closet, tablecloths, napkins, runners. My housekeeper, Grace, will know what’s there. Havilah has been entertaining for many long years. There will be stacks of Christmas decorations. Grace will want to help, she’s a whiz in the kitchen but she’s getting on in years. I don’t want her tired out. My uncle used to hold a staff party every year. My manager, Jason Corey tells me the last couple of years it’s been a barbeque.”

  At mention of Jason’s name, Robyn flushed so deeply, it turned her scar into a jagged silver line. “It was so nice of Jason to put my name forward for the catering,” she said. “I feel honoured. You’ve no idea how helpful Jason has been to me, he recommended my services early on, at least from the time he sampled what I can do. The community is so closely knit Marco’s so popular, I had a little difficulty at first getting off the ground, but once Jason put in a good word opportunities opened up. I won’t let you down,” she told Olivia, her golden-brown eyes earnest.

  “I’m sure you won’t,” Olivia assured her quickly. “I’m having a Christmas tree set up possibly at the far end of the terrace where it widens right out. There will be fairy lights in the trees in the grounds, all white, only the Christmas tree will have the traditional coloured lights. Our people work very hard, they’re very loyal, this is our first year without my uncle Harry. I’m dedicating the occasion to him, so everything has to be just right.”

  The thunderstorm broke late afternoon when Olivia was inspecting what Harry used to call the Old Barn,
an alternative site should the glorious weather turn unpredictable like today. Robyn Nelson had stayed well over an hour while they worked on their plans, making many innovative suggestions that left Olivia feeling the catering would be in good hands.

  Both Danny’s mother and sister Michelle found it necessary to come to collect one small person.

  “They just want to have a little sticky beak,” said Tali, touching Olivia’s arm and dissolving into the giggles.

  So alerted, Olivia forestalled the curious duo, by meeting Danny’s family out on the front terrace. Afterwards, Tali tired out after her day of intensive adventuring took a nap under Grace’s watchful eye while she waited for her father to pick her up. Occasionally Olivia stayed with her until Jason arrived, with Tali swinging back and forth on the comfortably upholstered porch swing. More often than not Olivia let Grace do the honours. She was determined to keep her distance from Jason.

  The old ghosts returned the moment she entered the huge barn that Harry had transformed into the most marvellous ballroom and reception hall for her wedding day. She’d thought the worst of her unhappiness and humiliation had long since dulled, but it all came back at a rush. She could never retrieve the radiant creature she’d once been. She was hurt all over again just coming in here. Life seemed to be a never ending battle to keep herself together.

  Don’t get upset, her inner voice warned. Don’t dwell on the whole shameful mess. What she should be doing was counting her blessings. After all most people had to learn to accept. Olivia drew a deep calming breath, looking around the ruggedly attractive large area.

  Harry’s goal had been not to alter the character of the vintage structure but to convert the voluminous space with its soaring ceiling and marvellous cross beams into something beautiful. Every post, every beam, every rafter had been cleaned and restained. A new pine floor had been laid down, polished to a deep golden honey. The windows had been left alone. Doors made from recycled timber, had been cut into the walls, each marked by strikingly carved surrounds worked by a local craftsman. Massive wrought-iron light fittings hung from the rafters. They had been custom made, the space was so huge normal light fittings would have been overwhelmed.