Her Australian Cattle Baron

by Margaret Way

  “No, I’m not okay. I’m sick!” Marigold began massaging her stomach with one hand.

  “That’s because you’re upsetting yourself unnecessarily.” Amelia softened her tone. “Perhaps you could make more of an effort. You can turn on the charm when you want. There’s no doubt you charmed Jimmy. He had his pick of all the pretty girls. They all chased him.”

  “Except you,” Marigold retorted, with unmistakeable bitterness.

  Amelia let out a patient sigh. “Please don’t go on with this,’ she begged. “I like Jimmy, but I’m not attracted to him in any romantic fashion. You know that perfectly well, so don’t try to make something out of nothing. I will say this. Jimmy has been frittering away his life. It’s time for him to settle down and pull his weight. For all his conquests, he chose you. The day after tomorrow, you’ll be Mrs. James Stirling. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “It’s what I’m going to get!”

  The vehemence of the tone was so astonishing Amelia felt a quick chill. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Marigold clenched her small fists, her knuckles showing white. “He doesn’t love me.”

  Amelia felt her anxieties mount. Jimmy wasn’t acting like he was in love, either. “For pity’s sake, Marigold, if there’s a problem, tell me. If you want to back out, you can. There’s time if you feel you’re making a big mistake.”

  Marigold turned her head away, so sharply her fluffy curls bounced.

  “I’m talking to you, Marigold,” Amelia said sternly. She had to get Marigold’s attention. “Please answer. Why are you so uptight?”

  “Haven’t I reason to be?” Marigold turned back to give Amelia a withering look. “You’re the only family to attend me. Not a whole gaggle of Boyds. What do you suppose people will think? My adoptive parents not here for my wedding?”

  “Your fault entirely, Marigold,” Amelia pointed out crisply. “All you ever told Mum and Dad was you’d met James Stirling. Nothing more. No hint it could be serious. You’ve put a lot of distance between yourself and them of recent times. That hurts them. Don’t you realize that?”

  “Can’t be helped,” said Marigold. “Anyway, they’re away on their travels. Italy again. They can’t seem to keep away from the blasted place. They’ve even learned the lingo.”

  “As have I. Italy is my favourite holiday destination as well. You know that, Marigold. I invited you along at least twice, but you weren’t interested. If Mum and Dad aren’t here, it’s because you elected to keep them in the dark. The last I heard from them, they were in Tuscany, where they’d caught up with the Westbrooks.”

  “Dear old Graham and Paula,” Marigold crowed. “Two of the most boring people on earth.”

  Amelia didn’t bother addressing that ridiculous charge. “What did you tell Jimmy?”

  “I told him they had better things to do than attend our wedding. He would have told his family.”

  “Then I’ll make sure they all know the truth.” If it came down to a choice of defending her mother and father or Marigold, Marigold wasn’t going to be allowed to get away with that blatant lie. She was sure Marigold hadn’t wanted their parents here. Marigold had a proven track record of being able to go the distance with betrayal.

  “And make a liar out of me?” Marigold looked shocked.

  “You are a liar, Marigold,” Amelia replied.

  Marigold bounced up in the bed. “Made you feel good, did it, telling me that?”

  “For what it’s worth, I pray you will change. You’d do well to tell the truth from now on in.”

  “Ah, spare me the sermon,” Marigold said, falling back against the pillows. “You can be such a fool, Melly, for all your much-lauded brain. The only reason Jimmy is marrying me is—are you listening, Melly? I’m fed up with keeping it to myself. I’m pregnant with his child.”

  The announcement was directed at Amelia like an arrow shot from a bow.

  The impact was ferocious. Leaning forward, Amelia clutched her arms around her like a woman in pain. “Sweet Lord,” she exclaimed.

  There was a hard glint in Marigold’s sky-blue eyes. “I’m not so sure there is one.”

  “Oh, there is one and you were raised to believe in Him,” Amelia shot back. “I’m having trouble believing you.”

  “That’s not important right now.” Marigold reached for a glass of water on the bedside table, gulping it down. “I admit I do have a talent for lies.”

  “That’s not a talent, Marigold. It’s a character flaw.” Amelia suddenly felt as weak as a kitten. “We both know you say anything at all to make life easier for yourself.” She gathered herself as she rose to her feet. “Tell me the truth now or I’ll leave you here on your own. I can’t deal with lies. I want the truth.”

  “Save your breath, Melly. You’ll never leave me. Strange but true. You’re my big sister. You should be a guardian angel with your pure heart. Always so patient. A tower of strength to your difficult little sister—only I’m not your sister. Not your sister at all. Your parents are not my parents. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.” With every denial, a thump of the pillows. “Adoption doesn’t mean blood. I could be your enemy and you’d still treat me well. Why can’t you be a bitch just for a change?”

  Amelia felt sick to her stomach. “Being a bitch isn’t me, Marigold. Nastiness isn’t good for the soul. You’re not my enemy. You’re family. You would think you’d have learned that by now. If you’d really gotten yourself pregnant you would have told me, surely?”

  Marigold gave a big, insulting yawn. “What a terrible shame I didn’t. I don’t tell you everything, Melly.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that? I know about your deceptions, little secrets, and your downright lies. But I always remind myself that you’re family. You’re like a soldier constantly at war. You go through life as though you have to defend yourself against all comers.”

  Marigold gave a malevolent grin. “You’d have made a great psychiatrist, Melly. You’ve just hit it on the head. I do have to defend myself. I suffered a catastrophe. I have no parents. Yours weren’t taken from you. I know how hard you’ve all tried to make me part of the family, though I think your parents are finally fed up. You’re the one everyone loves. Everyone prefers you to me. Go on admit it.”

  “Maybe things would change, if you’d stop feeling so sorry for yourself,” Amelia couldn’t prevent herself from snapping. “Our world is full of catastrophes. Terrible suffering. Victims who survived the horrors of the Holocaust didn’t throw in the towel. Anyone would think you’d been maltreated instead of loved. Mum and Dad couldn’t have been kinder or more supportive. I’ve done my best.”

  “Actually, you’ve done quite well,” Marigold admitted, suddenly seeing how Amelia had knit her arched brows together. “It’s being pregnant that’s making me like this,” she said, coming up with an excuse.

  “So it is true?” Amelia turned back to slump into the armchair. Her legs had suddenly given way. “And you’ve kept it all to yourself?”

  “Except for Jimmy, of course.” Marigold’s full rosy lips were set in a tight line. “He doesn’t care about me. He cares about our coming child. Jimmy loves kids.”

  “Thank God for that!” Amelia tried hard to compose herself. “You can’t be playing games, Marigold?” She needed to ask one last time.

  “Do I look like a kidder? No games, Mel. Not anymore.”

  “Jimmy hasn’t breathed a word to me,” Amelia said, wondering why he hadn’t.

  “It’s a wonder!” Marigold flashed back. “If Jimmy were to love anyone, it would be you. Beautiful, kind, clever, Melly.”

  “I’d advise you not to pass any of your ridiculous comments on. There is not and never has been the faintest suggestion Jimmy is attracted to me. What we share is you and a friendship.”

  Marigold decided it was time to revert to her soft, breathy voice. It was vital she retain Amelia’s support. “Have it your way, Melly. I don’t want to talk about it, anyway. You’re the closest
person in the world to me. The perfect big sister.”

  “So what you always dreamed of has come to pass,” Amelia said, no pleasure, let alone approval in her voice. “You’re marrying into a great deal of money and power. Whatever you say, I would like you to swear to me you’re pregnant.”

  “If I have to.” Marigold placed her hand on her heart. “Anyone would think it was a bloody catastrophe.”

  Amelia stared across at the young woman on the bed. Marigold’s bosom, naturally full, especially for her petite stature, was looking fuller, though she wasn’t showing in any other way.

  “How far along are you?”

  “Two months without a period. That’s not like me. I’m as regular as clockwork. I feel sick in the mornings too. Damn it, Melly!” She gave a sudden heartfelt sob. “I’m one hundred percent sure. I should be congratulated. It’s not a horrible tragedy, you know. Why are you staring at me like that?” Marigold started to rub her flat stomach again.

  “Doesn’t it weigh on your conscience you deliberately trapped Jimmy?” Amelia felt sick at heart. “This isn’t a child conceived in love. Then there would be no problem at all. This child was conceived out of avarice.”

  Marigold fired back, her expression one of outrage. “What’s wrong with that? Women do it all the time.”

  “Men don’t like being trapped, Marigold.”

  “So I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” Marigold returned to beating the pillows. “I mean, bloody hell! It takes two to tango. Jimmy and I had a lot of sex. You know what he’s like. That’s all he wanted. When I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t believe it. I was so ashamed.” Tears spurted into her blue eyes. “I didn’t tell you. I wanted to. You’re my only friend. You’ve always stuck by me. You’re my bridesmaid, for God’s sake!” Marigold’s voice suddenly cracked. “I didn’t want you to find out like this. Jimmy and I were going to pretend I fell pregnant on our honeymoon.”

  “He hasn’t told a soul?”

  “I didn’t ask him not to,” Marigold lied. “It was all his idea. He knew he had to step up to the mark. He worships his brother. They all do. Royce is the sun, moon, and stars around here.”

  “He’s going to find out sometime,” Amelia said grimly. “They all are.”

  “They won’t know one hundred percent,” Marigold answered with complete confidence. “The baby will be premature.”

  “Dear God!” Amelia closed her eyes, letting her shock show. “Is this marriage going to work?”

  “Come on, Melly.” Marigold turned a pretty pleading face. Her blue eyes were glistening with ready tears. “It isn’t the worst thing in the world. I don’t like kids, but I’ll deal with it. Besides, everyone loves babies, even the bloody Stirlings.”

  Amelia came to a decision. “I think you and Jimmy should tell the family before the wedding, Marigold. Honesty really is the best policy. Jimmy’s mother, his aunt, and uncle are arriving tomorrow, as are all of the guests. You and Jimmy can tell the family privately. No one else needs to know.”

  Marigold bounded off the bed like a gymnast. She looked frantic. “No one is going to know,” she shouted. “Jimmy doesn’t want to tell them any more than I do. It’s for us to make the decision, not you. Jesus, can’t you keep out of anything?”

  “Sure, I can.” Amelia rose from her chair. “I can go one better. I can go home.”

  “And desert me?” Marigold cried, throwing up her small hands. “Wonderfully kind and supportive Amelia taking the easy way out?”

  “Don’t try to dump your failings on me, Marigold,” Amelia warned. “If you and Jimmy have made the decision not to tell the family, and that includes our family, that you’re pregnant, you can be absolutely certain I’ll keep my mouth shut. Do it your way.”

  Marigold sucked in a breath. “I knew you’d agree.”

  “I’m not agreeing with you,” Amelia said. “I feel more like curling up in a corner to weep. This could have been handled so much better.”

  Marigold shook her head in denial. “Jimmy and I have talked it over. Our decision is made. You’re such a comfort to me, Melly. It’s early in my pregnancy. That’s the beauty of it. I can pull it off.”

  Amelia remained silent as she rose and walked to the door. “This isn’t the best way to go about things, Marigold. Your plans could all backfire. Did you bring that pretty blue and silver cocktail dress I bought you?” she asked, one hand on the brass doorknob.

  Marigold shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I like it, Melly. I was going to bring it with me, but I’ve already decided on a little red lace number. You know me. I like to make a splash.”

  Amelia’s hand curled around the heavy knob. “Please lay off the alcohol tonight. We both know alcohol goes straight to your head. If I were you, I wouldn’t drink at all during your pregnancy.”

  “But you’re not me, are you, Melly?” Marigold waggled her fingers. “I promise I won’t lash out on the vodka again. They’ve probably hidden it anyway, but I’ll have a couple of glasses of vino.”

  “I think you might settle for one,” Amelia said repressively. “You owe it to yourself and Jimmy to make a good impression.”

  Marigold moved to the walk-in wardrobe, waving a careless hand. “That’s your provenance, sweetie. You’re here to make a good impression for me. You know I really should be wearing a ball gown. They’re so posh.”

  “Well, posh you aren’t,” Amelia retorted, making her escape.

  Chapter 2

  Marigold hadn’t been that far out when she had joked about wearing a ball gown to dinner, Amelia thought. The formal dining room set a very high tone. The long, polished mahogany table was surrounded by beautiful antique chairs, cushioned in ruby velvet to match the predominant colour in the gorgeous Persian carpet. The high ceiling was coffered with a splendid rock crystal chandelier at its centre, its lights reflected in the two tall, gilt-framed mirrors that hung on either side of the room. She understood the formal dining room was only used for celebrations or when there were special guests to dinner. At other times, the family used the informal dining room that led off the kitchen.

  Marigold, who wasn’t a bit shy when there were men around, looked very eye-catching in her short scarlet cocktail dress, the low-cut bodice showing off too much bosom. Though many a man in a fever of male excitement couldn’t have resisted long, admiring glances at the bosom on display, Jimmy wasn’t looking at all charmed by his fiancée’s frontal assault.

  Big brother Royce’s expression predictably revealed very little. That was something Amelia had expected. She wondered why he wasn’t married or at least engaged, given he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. It wasn’t as though she could ask, though. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be polite. It was entirely possible, however, that some extremely attractive daughter of one of the landed families would turn up as a guest for the wedding.

  The unsettling notion filled her head that Royce Stirling would be a fabulous lover. Up until now, she had thought she lacked the capacity to be bowled over by a man. Well, there was always a first time for everything, she thought. Very sensibly she shut down on her notion, focusing on the glorious flower arrangement instead. She feared where unsuitable thoughts of Royce Stirling might take her.

  In the space of an hour or two, he had turned from a hardworking cattle man into a suave dinner party host. She thought it would be all right if she acknowledged how good he looked. But then he had looked good in dust-splattered work clothes, sporting a scruffy black stubble on his cheeks and chin. Tonight, he was clean-shaven. His white banded shirt looked very stylish beneath his lightweight charcoal jacket. The pristine white threw his bronze skin, raven hair, and dark eyes into high relief. It actually bothered her he was so handsome. Although handsome didn’t say it. Jimmy was handsome too, but he lacked the special aura given to powerful men.

  The five of them were seated at one end of the long table. Spread out, they would have had to resort to shouting at one another. On the surface, it looked like an e
njoyable occasion, only there was a fragile balance in play. Royce presided at the top of the table. Where else? Marigold, the bride-to-be, was at his right. Jimmy was seated opposite his fiancée to his brother’s left. Anthea Stirling, striking in dark blue silk, long-skirted like Amelia’s, sat beside Marigold. Elegant white linen decorated the table. Fine porcelain, sterling silver cutlery, crystal glasses, four matching silver candlesticks, the tapering candles alight. As a centrepiece, a silver punch bowl with a lovely lustre had been filled with the most exquisite, slightly open red roses with a light sweet fragrance.

  Amelia turned her head to smile at Anthea. “Yours?” Gently, she reached out a hand to stroke a petal.

  “Mine,” Anthea acknowledged, with a pleased smile.

  “I’ll take a punt. Black Velvet? I’m going on the velvet texture of the petals.”

  “That’s remarkable, Amelia,” Anthea said. “I haven’t had a single visitor who could identify it. It was bred in the U.S., but oddly enough it does better in Australian climate conditions.”

  Marigold’s light voice was mocking. “If you’re looking for bucketloads of enthusiasm, Anthea, you can’t go past Melly. She’s mad about gardens. Takes after her mother.”

  “Surely your mother too, Marigold?” Royce intervened smoothly.

  “Well, yes, of course.” Marigold answered sweetly. “Melly’s most recent trip to London was timed so she could take in the Chelsea Flower Show, would you believe?”

  “This was?” Anthea’s fine-boned face was alight with interest.

  “Last May. I only had a fortnight, but I wanted to see the show. It was superb. The displays were astoundingly beautiful. I even managed to catch sight of the Queen, who looks remarkable for her age. She was chatting to David Austin, probably the world’s most famous rose grower, as you would know, Anthea. They both looked engrossed. Kate and William were there as well.”