by Margaret Way
CHAPTER NINE
ON THE third morning she heard the most welcome sound in the world. The sound of Rafe’s Piper circling the house. Now at long last she would get to see over Opal, the historic homestead she had once expected to go to as a bride. The homestead where she had fully expected to live out her days as Alison Kinross Cameron. Both sides had fully supported that once. Even her father who had related far better to Rafe than he ever had to his own son. Why that was, she had ceased to wonder. Perhaps it was because Rafe was a Cameron, a different dynasty. Brod was the Kinross heir? Who for
years had performed the real tasks of running the chain. It was Brod, like Rafe, who had the true dedication.
She was waitinge for him at the airship when he landed, leaving the jeep parked in the shade of the trees. Within minutes they were airborne, Ally filled with anticipation for what the day might bring.
“Should I bring my nightie and a toothbrush?” She tried a joke when he rang to invite her over, wanting to behave perfectly but finding herself too darned nervous to manage it.
“Whyever would you need to do that?” he’d answered suavely. “I’ll have you home before sunset.”
“You used to invite me for the night,” she’d, reminded him with some nostalgia, trying desperately to get back on the old easy footing.
“Sorry, Ally, darling, you’re banned for life.”
So that was that! Nevertheless she’d tucked a toothbrush into her tote bag in the wry hope he might relent. She realised she was all but flinging herself at him, but her pride seemed to have flown out the door.
Her first sight of Opal’s homestead brought a flood of memories singing back. Rafe’s mother had always been up there on the verandah awaiting their arrival. A warm friendly woman but always maintaining her dignity. They had been great friends. She so needy for motherly attention, the older woman with a household of men, touchingly appreciative of young female company.
“What are youthinking about?” Rafe asked, almost reading her mind.
“How your mother was always waiting for you on the verandah.”
The dull pain never went away. “How you and she used to talk. Chatter, chatter, chatter. Even Dad had to ask you to put it on hold.” Delighted to see them both
laughing and happy.
“We women had tons of important things to discuss. Fashion and gossip. Novels we had read. Who was getting married. Who was breaking up. Families who were in trouble and what could be done to help. What was going on in the rest of .the world. We talked about everything. Your mother loved to hear what Fee was up to. I think she got lot of vicarious pleasure out of Fee’s glamorous life without ever wanting to lead it.”
Rafe smiled, “I know. We used to tease her. Obviously two husbands aren’t enough for Fee?” He gave Ally an amused. sidelong glance. “David has settled in very nicely.”
She could only nod in agreement. “I think he’s always had a crush on Fee. Not that he didn’t love his wife.”
“Not trying to pair them off?”
“Fee means a lot to me,” Ally said. “I think she and David could be very happy together. David is a very cultured man of wide interests. Fee’s at a time of life when she’s ready to settle down.”
“I’m strangely moved by that.”
Rafe’s mouth curved in the way she loved.
“But it wouldn’tgo down too well with Francesca’s father, would it?” he asked.
“Mrmmmm.” Ally took time to consider. “He could hardly object. He and Fee were divorced years and years ago. The earl has happily remarried.”
“But why, pick his cousin?” Rafe raised a questioning brow.
“David is the best man, that’s why. Don’t a spoilsport, Rafe Cameron.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologised, a decided glint in his gold-flecked green eyes. “I adore your fabulous aunt. She provided us all with a lot of colour.”
The 4WD swept around the circular drive, gravel crunching under its heavy tyres, Rafe bringing it to a halt at the base of the short flight of stone steps that led to the verandah.
Opal Downs homestead, as single-story structure, lacked the conscious splendour of the two-storied Kimbara built in the style of a grand English country mansion, and its home gardens, as Rafe had warned her, had suffered badly, but Ally loved it probably because the homestead had soaked up all the love and devotion that had gone on within its walls. It had a palpable aura of serenity and comfort.
The house was a fine example of English Regency adapted to suit, the harsh Outback conditions. Wide verandahs surrounded the house on three sides, protecting the central core. The timber balustrades, the fretwork and the classic pillars were all painted a pristine white, the series of timber shutters at the French doors a dark glossy green, lending a charming airiness and sense of coolness to the house.
The main structure was composed of a particularly fine rose-coloured brick that had mellowed to a graceful desert pink. The slate roof added another touch, of elegance, the green toning harmonising with the all-over colour scheme. Like Kimbara, constructed at the same time, a wealth of skills in the way of tradesmen had been
borrowed from around the colony, builders, woodworkers, plasterers, stonemasons. Charles Cameron and Ewan Kinross had been in competition to see who could complete their homestead first.
Charles Cameron, less concerned with grandeur had finished many months before. Ewan Kinross marked the completion of his splendid gentleman’s residence by taking to it a bride, Cecilia, his kinswoman, whom, both men loved. Rebecca, as Brod’s bride, would get to wear Cecilia’s, famous opal and diarnond neckace now. Indeed Rebecca had already worn it to a ball, drawing a great deal of attention to herself as her father had intended. Just to think of the old story, Ally found upsetting, so she pushed it away. Brod and Rebecca were married now with a long happy life in front of them.
” Let’s make a ceremony of it, shall we?” Rafe asked as he helped her alight from the Toyota.
She tipped her face to him, her eyes challenging. “You’re not going to carry me over the threshold?”
“I doubt I could stand the weight.”
“I thought you were the one who kept telling me I was stick thin.” She let go of his hand, breathing in deeply to cover a whole range of emotions. “It’s such la beautiful day I suppose Grant is up and away?”
He nodded. “Pretty close, as it happens. Victoria Springs.”
“What?” she stared at him hard. “I really hope he doesn’t teIl Lainie I’m here.”
“Should that put a dampener on anything?” he enquired very suavely.
“Don’t be nasty, Rafe. So what form is this celebration going to take? I’ m always open to suggestions.” She shook her curly head tied at the nape with a silk scarf.
“Now isn’t that a fact! Actually I put out a brandnew doormat in your honour. It says Welcome.”
“But am I?”
“I don’t know. You wouldn’t have been up until recenty.” The remark came out a lot more crisply than he iintended but it was intensely unsettling having her back on his home ground. Having her back where they had first made love together. He could still feel the enormous wound to his pride, to his psyche, when she had gone off and left him. Sure the wound had healed over, but the place still plagued him like a phantom limb.
Going to bed with Ally was as inevitabler taking his last breath. That hadn’t changed but he wanted no more deep confusion in his life. She would return to her career and her large network of friends within the business. He wouild have to accept what couldn’t be changed and find fhimself a satisfactory wife. There were any number of beautiful, desirable intelligent women out there. Let’s face it, he figured on the Most Eligible list. He’d find a good wife if it killed him.
“So arer you deciding this was a bad idea?” Ally confronted him in her pirited fashion, in her own way extremely proud.
He shook his gleaming golden head, a certain measure of wry resignation in his voice. “Opal welcomes you ba
ck, Alison Kinross. I guess your spirit will never leave.”
“No, it won’t!” Her green eyes glittered like emeralds. She turned to him so quickly, her sable-sheened hair whipped around her face. “I laid a cliaim to you, Rafe Cameron, when I was a child. I love you better than anybody. Better than anyone else will. You just remember that.” She swallowed convulsively on the emotion that rose to her throat.
He studied her with a taut smile on his mouth. “Make sure to remind me at my wedding. Much as I love you, Ally, I can’t go through life with your hooks in me.”
“Hooks?” Ally winced involuntarily. “You really don’t want me back?”
His heart lunged, though he spoke satirically. “Are you ready to toss your career aside?” he countered, taking hold of her hand and leading her to the steps. “I
don’t think so, Ally. It makes me awfully sad, but that’ s life.”
She spoke what was upper most on her mind. “You know it scares me sometimes the way everyone believes I’m going to follow in Fee’s footsteps.”
He froze. “Hell, Ally, isn’t that what you’ve been working for all this time?”
“I have no pretensions to stardom,” she said as emphatically as she could.
“You could have fooled me.” He was mocking now, holding her hand on the verandah.
“I guess I have,” she agreed quietly. “I thought I wanted to prove I could act. Or prove I could be somebody out there in another world.I suppose I wanted a choice.”
His mouth twisted ironically. “Yes, you did, and you made one. You’ve put in a lot of hard work and it has paid off, I’m not into watching much television, as miraculous as it’s been for the bush, but I’ve watched your show and I have to say you’re something special. You’re beautiful, you’re spirited, you radiate warmth and intelligence. You’re delightful. The camera loves you, the way you walk and talk, the radiant flash of your smile, the bubbly laugh. You have an individuality about you, a glow. I’m not in the, least surprised the movie offers
are starting to come in.”
She went to the balustrade and slid her uninjured arm around a white pillar. “Everyone is very disappointed I’m leaving the show. They’re planning on killing me off while I’m out on some errand of mercy. Needless to say, Matt has buried his career.”
“I’m not surprised.” Rafe’s voice was a rasp. “He’s barely civilised. Do you have to go back to finish some scenes?”
“No.” She paused to watch an eagle in flight. “They’re working on it. I’m still having nightmares. I’m even hesitating before pick up the phone.”
He joined her at the rail and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “It’ll pass. Give yourself a little time to regain the harmony in your life, Ally. You’re strong. You’ll find yourself again.”
His attitude plainly warned her he gave no serious credence to any of her abandoning her career.
He let her wander around the main rooms of the homestead at her leisure.
To the left and right of the spacious hallway. graced by arches, flowed the old drawing room and the formal dining room with their matching richly carved fireplaces and mirrored overmjantels. The beautiful ceilings with their detailed plaster work had unquestionably been done by the same team of craftsmens who had worked on Kimbara, with very fine crystal chandeliers adding their own elegance and splendour. The formal dining room led to the library through wide folding doors with pedimented overdoors that almost reached the sixteen-foot-high ceiling, beyond that the huge study Rafe had taken over from his father, and a smaller one on the other side of the passageway used by Grant.
The mainly Victorian furnishings with a selection of rather splendid Oriental artefacts were still in an excellent state of preservation but Ally itched to replgace a lot of the soft furnishing as Rafe’s mother had planned to do.
Virtually nothing was changed since the last time she had been the homestead. It was fairly obvious, too, the brothers, Rafe and Grant, kept almost exclusively to the less formal rooms of the house, using the morning room, which adjoined the huge old kitchen for meals and the large informal sitting room facing the rear garden and a loop of the creek, to relax.
While she was exploring Rafe stood quietly watching her circle each room in turn. If she hadn’t been an actress she could have been a dancer, he thought. Her mpvements were so graceful, so fluid, so springy. He remembered all the dances and balls they had attended together. Outback people revelled in such occasions.
The balls on Kimbara had been marvellous. Stewart Kinross had been very much the lord of the manor with his wonderfu good looks and his dark glinting sardonic manner. Ally had a high look of her father, as did Brod, except for his. startling blue eyes, but when you saw Ally you automatically thought of the brilliant Fee. It must have broken Sir Andtew’s heart when his adored daughter left her Outback home to set sail for England, Rafe thought.
Fee’s father, Ally’s grandfather, had loved his only daughter deeply. Fee’s spreading her wings had stopped all plans. Of course, Sir Andrew wanted her to marry someone like his own father and settle down to life on the land. Sir Andy ihad wanted grandchildren. Lots of thern. He had three, it was true. Two he’d adored so openly, and little Francesca. born last, almost inaccessible to him, shielded by her father’s English family.
It was very quiet in the old ballroom, which hadn’t been used in rnany years. The Kinrosses had built their great hall to accommodate cattlemen’s conferences and
their gala functions; the Cameron dances had always bben held here with homage paid to their Scottage ancestry, an ancestry the Kinrosses shared as did many outback families.
Ally stopped in front of a magnificent portrait of Charles Cameron in full Scottish regalia that hung in the ballroom above little gilded settees and chairs that were pushed back against the walls. A few feet away was a companion portrait of his wife, with the Cameron tartan arranged arranged with great panache around her bare shoulders and her billowing white silk ballgown. Another Scot. She was smiling, a lovely-looking woman with a generous figure, reddish gold hair, large hazel eyes and high colour in her sheeks. Smiling rediantly no matter she had been married on the rebound after Ewan Kinross had wedded the legendary Cecilia.
“I wonder what went wrong between our ancesters,” Ally paused to ask. There were any number of theories, but no one ever knew and the main characters had never said. “I can’t imagine marrying one man when I was in love with another.”
He looked at her, masking a flash of pain. “People make accommodations all the time, Ally. The girl I marry mightn’t be you but I’m damned sure I can learn to love her.”
“You can transfer your affections that easily?” She swung her head, fixing him with her eyes.
He nodded calmly. “I’m not going to doom myself to the bachelor life. I want family. Children. I love children. You should see me with my godchildren.”
Whatever had she done walking away from this fabulous man. “I know you will make a wonderful father.” Ally moved further along to stare up at the portrait of Charles Cameron’s wife. “This is where that, wonderful flamboyant hair comes from. And the gold-flecked hazel eyes. Grant’s colouring is tawnier. You’re pure gold.” Ally sighed, looking up at the painted familiar eyes. “She looks a lovely, open, good-humoured woman. I really like her.”
“Not Cecilia the temptress,” he pointed out, very dryly.
“Cecilia was doomed to be very unhappy, but this woman wasn’t.”
He gave a faint grimace. “I expect, like me, my ancestor reasoned the best way to go was get on with life. The marriage turned out to be long, happy and fruitful.”
“I’m glad.” Ally turned about, giving him her incandescent smile. “You Camerons are such nice people. My grandfather had hopes Fee and your father would fall in love.”
“Yes, I know. I don’t feel bad it turned out differently. Dad admitted once he had a crush on her. I might even go so far as to say everyone did, but he knew Fee
wasn
’t going to settle down like a good Outback wife. Fee was going to fly the coop and never comeback.”
Even as he was speaking, Rafe felt the old traitorous twist of his heart. Like aunt, like niece.
“Dance with me?” Ally suddenly asked. “Let’s pretend it’s the old days. Didn’t we have the most wonderful times? I remember as a child staring into this room, watching all the grown-ups dancing.” She closed her eyes and began to sway around the room. She was sick to death of the cast on her arm. She couldn’t wait to get rid of it. “Isn’t it romantic, da da da da da.” She couldn’t really think of the words, on a night like
“Isn’t it romantic.”
Around and around she went in as loose summer dress, sleeveless, low in the neck, the fine, white cotton printed with one huge yellow hibiscus across the skirt. A little
girl’s dress, except Ally wasn’t a little girl. She was all woman. With the cast she was forced to keep one arm to her side but the other lifted as if to go around a partner’s neck.
Everyone had wanted to dance with Ally. All the boys. Ally as light and drawing as a flame. She had a lovely clear singing voice to match her voice. Absolutely true, but she was making a mess of the lyrics. He had to stop himself frome joiningi in. He wanted her to stop. He wanted to prevent her from reclaiming his heart. But he wanted the taste of her lips on his tongue. He wanted to pick her up and carry her through to the silent master bedroom with its great four-poster bed. Memory of the first time he had taken her slid into his mind, an experience so profound he knew if he lived to be a very old man it would be one of this everlasting recollections.
“Dance with me, Rafe.” She called to him. “Come on, please. Some memories never go away. I remember the way you looked at me when you saw -me dressed for