Outback Heiress, Surprise Proposal

by Margaret Way

  He put his attaché case down, shrugged out of his jacket, then walked to the drinks trolley, thinking he would have a Scotch on the rocks while he was waiting. Francey had promised him she would be home by seven. He couldn’t wait to see her. Her beauty, her intelligence, her emotional capacity overwhelmed him. It was the sweetest, sweetest pain just thinking about her when they were apart.

  High time they were at the very least engaged. Maybe six months on they could set a wedding date. He loved her to the point where he couldn’t do without her. He wanted her always there, at his side. He and Francesca made quite a pair. He and his grandmother were enormously grateful to her for the way she had coaxed his mother onto her team. It had been a huge coup. He hadn’t seen his mother so whole heartedly involved in life since before his father had died. Not only had she become entirely ‘with it’, she had updated every aspect of her appearance. Always beautiful and quietly elegant, her new and more youthful image was drawing a lot of positive attention.

  ‘Annette has come back to us!’ his grandmother had said. ‘And who do we thank but our little Francey?’

  Francesca took a phone call from Carina a bare ten minutes before she wanted to leave the building. It had come as a puzzlement to her, the way Carina had turned virtually overnight into the sort of cousin she had always wanted. They had only met up once or twice since their grandfather’s death, and then only for coffee—Francesca had too many demands on her time—but Carina had dropped her hard brilliance in favour of a much softer, more affectionate approach. She rang at least once a week—‘just keeping in touch!’—even going so far as to say she was okay with the fact her mother and Annette Macallan were now working for the Forsyth Foundation.

  ‘A little bird tells me Annette has taken a shine to the landscaper Gordon Carstairs,’ she announced now, as though imparting a secret pleasing to them both. ‘That’s lovely. I know how much Annette adored her husband, but let’s face it, life goes on. She’s still only young. What? Fifty? She deserves some happiness.’

  She did indeed, thought Francesca, but there was something not right about Carrie’s saying it. Carrie had been quite scathing about Annette and her withdrawal from life in the past. ‘It’s hardly gone as far as that, Carrie,’ she answered, brushing Gordon aside. But all in a good cause. ‘You’re remarkably well informed.’

  Carina gave a laugh as sharp as a piece of broken glass. ‘For goodness’ sake, Francey, everyone knows Mum and Annette are working for you. As for Carstairs—who, incidentally, is quite a hunk for his age—friends of mine were seated at a table not far from the three of you in a restaurant.’

  ‘What restaurant?’

  ‘Gosh, I dunno. One of the top. It’s hard to keep secrets, pet. Everyone knows what’s going on. What I particularly wanted to ask you is, when next you go to Daramba could I please come too? I’d love to meet Gordon. I’ve been thinking we need a really first-class landscaper at the house. Dad doesn’t care what changes I make. I suppose you know he’s trying to win Mum back?’

  Francesca swallowed. Carrie at Daramba? ‘And how do you feel about that—seeing you haven’t contacted your mother?’ She played for time.

  Carina’s soft chuckle came over the wires. ‘You know I want to. But, look—it ain’t easy. As for Mum and Dad getting back together again—I’d be thrilled.’

  ‘Nice if you’d ring and tell her that,’ Francesca said. ‘As for their getting back together, that’s up to Liz.’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Carina confirmed. ‘Now, about Daramba?’

  Francesca sat back in her chair, half horrified by the request. ‘Carrie, I don’t—’

  ‘Please!’ her cousin interrupted. ‘I don’t ask for much. Besides, it will do us both good to spend time together.’

  ‘I’ll get back to you,’ Francesca promised at last. ‘But for now I must fly.’

  ‘Bye-bye, then,’ Carina carolled breezily. ‘It must be time for you to walk out the door. You know what they say. All work and no play…Dinner at home with Bryn this evening?’

  It was very difficult to get a handle on this new and yet familiar Carina. How did she know so much? Or was she simply fishing? On the other hand, it could all be true. Carina had simply turned into a better person. ‘No plans as yet, Carrie.’

  ‘Give him my love. And wish him a safe trip from me. Bryn is a wonderful ambassador for this country,’ she said warmly, with no trace whatsoever of lingering bitter resentment. ‘No wonder you look to him for everything.’ There was a pregnant pause, as if Carina was expecting a prompt response. None was forthcoming. ‘Lovely to talk to you, Francey,’ she said into the void. ‘And thanks for everything. For being so understanding. I know my behaviour has caused you a lot of grief. But that’s all over now. First cousins are meant by the very nature of things to be close. Don’t forget, now. Give me a ring. I feel so much better about our relationship these days, don’t you?’

  Francesca tried desperately to inject an answering warmth into her voice. ‘I always wanted us to be the best of friends, Carrie,’ she said. Lord knew it was true. But what would it take? She had glimpsed their grandfather in Carrie once too often. These present overtures could be nothing more than Carina’s sugar-coated controlling mechanisms. Uncertain in her judgement, Francesca eased back. Surely Carina deserved a second chance? ‘Bye, now, Carrie,’ she said gently. ‘Take care.’

  Carefully she put the receiver down, breaking the connection. The truth was—and she couldn’t suppress it—she didn’t want Carina on Daramba. Especially not when Annette and Gordon were there. She wanted harmony, not trouble. She knew both Annette and Carina’s own mother, Elizabeth, were convinced Carina was merely playing games.

  ‘Happy families!’ Elizabeth had remarked, with considerable irony.

  It was something of a dilemma. If Carina really had undergone a miraculous sea change wouldn’t she be bitterly insulted, perhaps irrevocably, if she were denied an invitation to Daramba? After all it was the flagship of the Forsyth pastoral empire, and Carina was very much a Forsyth. It was quite possible Carina genuinely intended to bring a top-class landscaper in, to create a more beautiful and softening environment for the Forsyth mausoleum.

  If she said yes to Carina there could be no going back on it. Saying no would be the truly difficult part. She and Carina were of the same blood.

  Only blood had been let.

  She was no sooner in the door, calling jubilantly, ‘I’m home!’ when Bryn appeared—so vivid, so remarkable. In his presence her energies were recharged.

  ‘It’s marvellous to see you!’

  She laughed. ‘How long has it been since I’ve seen you?’

  ‘Getting on for fifty-eight hours too long,’ he replied, drawing her with an electrifying desire into his arms. ‘And, God, how I’ve missed you! Every second of the day, and worse at night!’ Black eyes tender but turbulent, he thrust his strong hand into her lustrous hair as he positioned her face at exactly the right angle for his passionate, welcoming kiss.

  Predictably, it turned into kiss…after kiss…after kiss…

  Delicate, tantalising little nips and nuzzles, starving little exhalations, in between open-mouthed expressions of the deepest desire, rapidly passing to a tension that built so mercilessly high that kissing was nowhere near enough. They wanted to go to bed. Each was bent on seeking the ultimate physical contact, yearning bodies fused, limbs entwined. Consummation was sublime—especially when they had been deprived of each other for even a short time.

  ‘I understand that,’ she whispered.

  Neither of them spoke again as he began removing her structured black jacket with its nipped-in waist, turning away briefly to place it over the back of one of the antique Regency chairs that stood on either side of the console. That done, he began slowly unbuttoning her silk blouse. The front was ruched, the colour an exquisite teal-blue. Francesca’s every last barricade was long since demolished. Bryn had held up a mirror to her own beauty; to its softness, voluptuousness and, fo
r him, its utter desirability. When they made love, which was every time they came together, they did so with a flawless intensity—as if each was desperate to find out what lay behind the flesh of the other. It was truly as though they both sought to be one.

  He broke off nuzzling the swan curve of her neck. ‘Dinner can wait?’

  She thought she murmured, ‘Yes!’ But she couldn’t be sure, her emotions were so extravagantly unbridled.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ He laughed deep in his throat, a man at peace, but his hands on her were urgent.

  Finally she stood naked, as slender as a water reed, her feverish blood colouring her olive skin pink.

  ‘At last we’re alone!’ he groaned. ‘The more I get of you, the more I want!’

  ‘It’s the same with me.’ The profound truth.

  ‘Wonderful!’ He hugged her warm body to him, his hand pressed against the smooth curve of her lower back. ‘Communion like we have, Francey, comes rarely.’

  A stab of fear touched her heart. ‘Bryn, no—hush!’ She stopped him by placing a warning finger against his lips. ‘Is it possible to love too much? It could attract the attention of jealous gods.’ That flicker of fear—the fear of loss—showed in her beautiful eyes.

  ‘Then we have to draw a magic circle around us,’ he answered, wrapping his arms fiercely around her. ‘When you go to Daramba at the weekend speak to Jili. She’s right up there with the magic potions and spells. Whatever the past, Francey, and our personal tragedies, we have to leave them behind and face the future with confidence. From now on I’ll always be by your side.’

  Dinner had been forgotten. They lay quietly in bed, in thrall with one another, only the faint echoes of their impassioned moans left inside the room. All energy was spent, so overwhelming had been their lovemaking. Bryn lay on his back, one arm behind his dark head, and Francesca spooned into him, her heartbeat striking into his side, one arm flung across his naked chest, one foot hooked around his ankle.

  ‘You’re the most wonderful lover in the entire universe!’ she gasped, her fingers working the hair on his chest into tiny curls. ‘That was ravishing!’

  ‘You’re ravishing,’ he replied, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Conversation was out of the question. They were still floating in the aftermath of sexual bliss. After a few more minutes of drifting, Bryn suddenly said, ‘By the way, I’ve got something for you.’

  ‘You’ve always got something for me.’ She smiled. Flowers, jewellery, a beautiful piece of Chinese porcelain to add to her collection…

  ‘You haven’t asked what it is.’ He slid out of the tangle of sheets, a living sculpture, his naked body lightly sheened with sweat, little scratches from her long nails showing faintly red against the gilded bronze of his flesh. She had never in her life scratched a man before Bryn.

  ‘Show me,’ she invited, luxuriously stretching her legs and curling her toes. With the way they made love, she had inevitably began thinking about the children they would have in, say, a year or so. The power they had to make new life she found sacred. So tragically deprived of her parents, and at such an early age, she had the most intense desire to have a family of her own. Bryn’s child, her child—their kids. Beautiful children, to reinforce their great love. Her path in life that had once been littered with pain and confusion was now clear. No more dead ends. No more dark alleys. Home was Bryn.

  He was saying something. What?

  ‘I have every intention of showing you. First I’ll find my robe. I need to look my best.’

  ‘You look your best now!’ Her laugh rippled. She was in awe of his superb physique. ‘Your robe is behind the bathroom door, where you left it.’ She pushed another pillow behind her head. What was it this time? It didn’t matter. It could be a cone shell off the beach. She would still love it.

  He was back within a minute, wearing the dark red robe that made such a splash of colour against his darkly tanned skin, and carrying a tiny box in his hand.

  She sat up quickly, saying tremulously, ‘Bryn?’

  ‘You never suspected?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ He sat down on the bed beside her.

  ‘It’s true.’ She felt such a rush of excitement it was hard to stop her voice trembling.

  ‘You are going to marry me?’ His dark eyes swept her lovely face, seeing her sudden agitation.

  ‘Oh, yes—yes, please.’ She articulated it as though reciting a vow. ‘I adore you.’

  ‘Then we have to get engaged first—don’t you agree?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Oh, Bryn!’ She tossed her long hair, damp at the temples, from her face, so it cascaded down her bare back. Just as she was thinking herself strong and secure she experienced a tiny frisson of fear about the timing. She had endured too many years of Carina’s conditioning to throw off her cousin’s influence overnight. Despite Carina’s apparent coming to terms with their new lives and status, she felt thoroughly unnerved by the prospect that Carina mightn’t be able to handle the fact of an engagement between her and Bryn so soon! Not that Bryn wouldn’t be there for her—her rock in life.

  ‘I thought we were going to wait a while?’

  ‘Unacceptable. I live and breathe you.’

  Such knowledge was thrilling, yet it scared her a little. Certain people were destined for loss. One saw it all the time.

  Bryn touched a finger to the beating pulse in her throat. ‘You’re too tender-hearted for you own good, Francey. You’re thinking of how Carina will react?’

  She looked away. She couldn’t hide a thing from him. He knew her too well.

  ‘No, look at me,’ Bryn said, and made sure of it by placing his hand firmly around her chin. ‘You feel sorry for her?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ Her iridescent eyes pleaded with him for understanding. ‘She is my cousin. She’s been reared to believe in her divine right to have everything she wants.’

  ‘And you’re convinced she wants me?’ He gave a slight and dangerous smile.

  ‘You know she does. When it comes to you she’s a bit deranged. All this current stuff, the way she goes on, is false. At least I think it’s false.’

  ‘Francey, you have to make up your mind. While Carrie has been supposedly so hotly desirous of me she’s been living a downright promiscuous life. And she’s been quite vocal about it.’

  ‘Just distractions!’ Francesca wrote her cousin’s multiple short lived affairs off. ‘Trying to make you jealous. I don’t know. Who knows Carrie? Not even her mother.’ Colour swept into her cheeks. ‘I love you, Bryn. God knows, I love you. I want to announce our engagement too.’

  ‘You think this is a ring?’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Her eyes went wide.

  ‘Of course it is!’ He dropped a chastening kiss on her mouth. ‘Why don’t you have a look?’

  ‘You’re angry with me,’ she said.

  ‘Not yet.’ But his look was very direct. ‘Open the box, Francey. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to be the mother of our children. But I’m damned if I’m going to let Carina into our magic circle. If she could, Carina would deny you any chance at happiness. She has wanted nothing more than that since she was a child. Not even me. Surely to God you’ve come to that realisation?’

  ‘Yes, I have. But it’s still a bit new. She’s so clever. I was starting to think maybe she really wanted us to be friends.’

  ‘Then you’d better think again,’ Bryn said, his voice bonedry.

  ‘All I want to think of is you and me.’

  ‘That’s my girl!’ he said with open exultation.

  Her heart contracted at the sight of the diamond engagement ring that sat so proudly inside the silk-lined box. It was glorious! A great ring for a great occasion! The glittering central stone was a flawless white, its brilliance offset by a garland of precious Arygle pink diamonds from their own Western Australia mines in the fabled Kimberley region. Argyle was the world�
��s major source of rare pink diamonds, and this ring’s masterly designer had used them to the utmost effect.

  ‘Well?’ he asked tenderly, sympathetic to the pile-up of emotions that had to some extent wounded her psyche.

  She stared into his dynamic face, half in shadow, half in gilded light. ‘I couldn’t have wished for a more perfect ring. I love it. I love you!’

  ‘I was aware of that, my darling,’ he said gently. ‘But hang on!’ Swiftly, he rose. ‘This calls for a toast. This calls for champagne.’

  ‘It does.’ She went to get out of bed to join him.

  ‘No, stay there.’ He held up a hand. ‘I want you in bed. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  He returned with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. He put the flutes down gently, then grasped the base of the bottle with one hand, the other stripping away the foil. ‘Now, this is a trick of mine, Francey. Watch carefully. I won’t lose a drop.’ With his thumb he dislodged the cork and it flew away, landing safely on the carpet.

  ‘Bravo!’ She clapped her hands. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘I have other skills.’

  ‘I know!’ She blushed deeply all over her body.

  They sipped their champagne slowly, observing one another with elated and loving eyes. Bryn had already slipped the ring down over her slender finger, where it sat perfectly.

  ‘It may be that you don’t want to wear your ring openly until I get back from China,’ he said, correctly gauging her transparent expression. ‘I understand you want me with you when we announce our engagement.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Okay.’ He lifted her hand and kissed it, turning it to press his mouth to the inner tracery of blue veins. ‘Let it dwell between your breasts,’ he said, and bent to kiss that scented spot. ‘But when I get back we make the announcement—agreed?’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed softly, holding up her left hand to the light. ‘This is something I could only dream about.’