A Wife at Kimbara

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A Wife at Kimbara Page 5

by Margaret Way


  “Good God, what are you talking about. There’s no problem, Fee,” her brother responded testily. “You seem to be wearing a billion dollars around your neck. I thought Rebecca might like the loan of a necklace.”

  Now Rebecca turned full into the light looking back at Fee, her beautiful eyes so lambent they might have been fighting back tears. Fee made an instinctive clutch at the doorjamb, feeling shocked, appalled and astounded all at once. She had been waiting for something to happen, she’d been getting little intimations right through Rebecca’s stay—now it was literally before her.

  Rebecca was wearing Cecilia’s Necklace against her creamy breast. The last time Fee had seen it, Lucille had been wearing it. As was her right. Cecilia’s Necklace had been handed down through the generations to each successive mistress of Kimbara. Fee remembered it on her own mother when Fee was a girl. It took her some moments to straighten, superb actress though she was, her inner disturbance detectable in her marvellous green eyes.

  “Don’t you think I’m right, Fee?” Stewart knowing her reaction, tried to circumvent a rash answer.

  What do I do? Fee thought, looking back at her brother. Make a scene? In that instant she knew she couldn’t, scenting danger. Kimbara and everything on it was Stewart’s while he lived and he was given to considerable hauteur. Rebecca’s slender figure seemed to be quivering. It was obvious she, too, was shocked by Stewart’s gesture even without knowing anything of the opal’s history. Unless Stewart had told her?

  “I haven’t seen that in a long time,” Fee managed to remark with her nephew’s trademark irony.

  “It deserves an airing.” Stewart was uncomfortably aware Rebecca’s face was looking flushed, when he knew he had to treat her like a piece of priceless china.

  “It looks absolutely wonderful on you, Rebecca,” Fee said enmeshed in a dilemma. Weren’t men fools? “And it goes beautifully with your dress.” Rebecca would writhe in shame if she advised her to take it off and she was much too fond of the younger woman to do that. From the beginning they had fallen into a warm, easy camaraderie.

  “I was concerned it was too valuable,” Rebecca said, grateful beyond belief for Fee’s comforting presence. The sheer awfulness of it! She just knew in her bones wearing the necklace wasn’t right.

  “You’re amongst family and friends, my dear,” Stewart assured her with a sudden shift to the avuncular. “There’s no question of its becoming lost or stolen.”

  No, but it was going to cause a great many surprises, Fee thought wretchedly. For Brod above all…

  Downstairs in the homestead’s huge drawing room with its striped silk walls and splendid curtains at the sets of French doors, the oriental and European furnishings, the guests were assembled enjoying drinks before they all wandered over to the Great Hall where there would be dancing and a sumptuous buffet. The band had been flown in along with a well-known TV personality to act as compere, and the caterers had spent most of the weekend labouring to make everything a great success. Stewart Kinross always paid well but he expected everything to be first-rate and was furious when it wasn’t. The owner of one catering firm had once hinted, “Ugly”.

  Living in isolation for so much of the time Outback people revelled in these occasions and as Rebecca accompanied Stewart and Fee down the sweeping staircase she could hear the steady hum of conversation and banter, the sound of music and laughter. Partying was what it was all about. She was acutely aware she was being treated like family of some sort. Certainly not the journalist who had been hired to write Fiona Kinross’s biography.

  As they reached the parquet floor of the Front Hall, which was what the family called the spacious entrance, several guests flowed out to meet them, Broderick Kinross among them such a blaze in his eyes Rebecca felt herself vibrating like a plucked string. She had the impression something about her had transfixed him. He was certainly staring at her, his gaze so sizzling she felt she might melt like wax. Maybe he objected violently to her wearing a valuable family necklace.

  Other people on the verge of calling out appeared to fall silent, a gap Fee instantly filled with great self-assurance.

  “Now, my darlings, what say we all have another glass of champagne, then it will be time to adjourn to the Great Hall. We can’t have the band sitting around entertaining themselves now, can we?”

  The blonde, Liz Carrol, in a slinky Armani red jersey, said something into Broderick Kinross’s ear, something that deepened the fire in his eyes. Something Rebecca was convinced was about her.

  They all went back into the drawing room, Rebecca accepting her first glass of champagne of the night, though some of the guests appeared to have had a good many already. One of the young men who had played on Stewart’s team, Stephen Mellor, turned to her smiling, telling her how lovely she looked. He’d heard it from Brod the young woman who was writing Fee’s biography was as “stylised as an orchid” something indefinable about Brod indicating she didn’t appeal, but Rebecca Hunt was really something. He started to ask her to save some dances for him when Rebecca caught Broderick Kinross’s eyes across the room. He gave her a salute with his crystal flute of such mockery Rebecca felt it bordered more on contempt, then turned back to his companion, Liz Carrol.

  “I think we might all walk across now,” Stewart announced after about ten minutes, taking Rebecca’s arm in a courtly sort of way. “You’re going to love what they’ve done to the Hall, Rebecca. This new firm I got in knows how to rise to the occasion.”

  The black velvet sky was ablaze with stars, the breeze that blew in from the desert surprisingly cool.

  Leaving Liz with their friends, Brod caught up with his aunt, drawing her a little to one side. “Damn it, Fee, what’s Dad up to?” he asked in a deep growl.

  “I’ve never known him to act like this,” Fee confessed. “Not since the early days when he was courting your mother.”

  “And the necklace! What in hell are we supposed to make of her wearing it?”

  Fee lifted a graceful hand and hunched her shoulders. “Darling, I’m as frantic as you are. I had absolutely no idea this was going to happen.” Which at least was the truth.

  “But why? And why tonight?” Brod groaned. “You can bet your life everyone will be talking about it. It sure made Rafe and Grant sit up and take notice.”

  “I’ll bet!” Fee agreed wryly. “Darling, we can’t talk about this now.” The breeze made the long skirt of her black chiffon gown swirl around her and she held it down. “We have guests. All of them with big ears.”

  “They’re not taking any notice of us,” Brod pointed out crisply. “Most of them have gone ahead. Dad must have told her the story?”

  “I really don’t know.” Fee shook her head worriedly. “I’m absolutely sure Rebecca wasn’t expecting it. I suspect Stewart is entirely responsible for her wearing it.”

  Brod reacted explosively. “God she looks like Rose White in the fairy tale and she’s a miserable little gold-digger.”

  Fee had never known him so coldly angry. “Darling, you’re wrong, so wrong. Rebecca is a fine young woman. I think I’m a good judge of character.”

  “How can I be wrong, Fee,” he said, shaking his head, “when it’s as clear as crystal. I remember vividly my mother wearing that opal with her beautiful hair drawn back. This isn’t a break with tradition. I’m starting to believe Dad intends to marry your Miss Hunt.”

  Fee gave a deep sigh. “I’m afraid he might be thinking along those lines, but he’ll have a job trying to convince Rebecca to marry him.”

  “What do you really know about this girl?” Brod retaliated. “Some women love money. Maybe she didn’t come here with anything in mind, then again maybe she did?” Along with his feelings of outrage Brod felt almost as though he’d been doubly betrayed.

  “That isn’t quite how it happened,” Fee decided to confide. “Your father set it all up.”

  “Wha-t?” He sounded stunned.

  “Stewart saw Rebecca on television when she was b
eing interviewed about Judith’s book. He liked what he saw and persuaded me to approach her.”

  “Dad did?” Brod started to move like a restive thoroughbred.

  “Darling, at that time a biography hadn’t entered my head.” Fee put a soothing hand on his white jacketed arm. “I was home for a visit, half pleasure, half business. Your father was trying to talk me into selling a lot of my company shares. He has the right to buy me out as you know.”

  “Don’t do it, Fee,” Brod warned. “There are all sorts of issues involved.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t.” She shook her head. “Stewart persuaded me I had a story to tell. I fell for it hook, line and sinker, vain creature that I am.”

  “Dad would do that?” He was amazed.

  “He must be lonely, Brod. Rattling round in a mansion all by himself,” Fee offered by way of explanation.

  “He’s had a dozen opportunities to remarry over the years. Roz Bennet was a nice woman.”

  “Indeed she was. And is. But she doesn’t fill the role of object of desire. Stewart doesn’t find it easy to love, Brod. We all know that. You and Ally especially.”

  “This is infatuation, Fee,” Brod told her grimly. “Obsession if you like and you know what they say, obsession blurs the vision. This girl is only a bit older than Ally. In other words she’s young enough to be his daughter.”

  “It happens, Brod,” Fee said in deep wry tones.

  He shook his head, scrapped his chiselled chin. “I have to tell you I’m shocked.”

  “I’m finding it a bit unseemly myself and I’ve seen everything,” Fee agreed dryly.

  “Miss Hunt must really fancy herself as a femme fatale.”

  “Darling, is it bothering you a great deal?” Fee said gently, putting a hand on him arm and urging him to walk on towards the brilliant lights of the Great Hall.

  “Believe me, it sure as hell is.”

  It seemed to Rebecca she and Broderick Kinross spent most of the night trading loaded glances but so far he hadn’t come near her. What was there to talk about anyway? It couldn’t be more obvious he didn’t like or approve of her but she received an inordinate amount of attention from his father who repeatedly asked her to sit out dances with him.

  “I never did like dancing,” Stewart said.

  “Really, you manage very well.” Rebecca smiled, keeping her tone light.

  He looked pleased. “Thank you, my dear, but I’d much prefer it if you could just sit here with me and talk. Well hello there, Michael.” He looked up pointedly as a sandy-haired very attractive young man who could never quite get to dance with Rebecca, suddenly marched right up to them.

  “Good evening, sir.” Michael gave a little bow. “Marvellous party.” His snapping brown eyes settled on Rebecca. “How about it, Rebecca? I’d love it if you’d dance with me.” He smiled into her eyes.

  “Rebecca is a little tired…she’s been so much in demand.” Stewart Kinross went to shake his leonine head but Rebecca returned the young man’s smile warmly and stood up.

  “Not at all, Stewart,” she said lightly, “I seem to have been sitting most of the night.”

  Oh well hell, she thought as she moved off. Stewart deserved that.

  Thrilled, Michael, nicknamed Sandy for obvious reasons, manoeuvred her onto the floor. “Arrogant old devil isn’t he?” he chuckled.

  “He isn’t old,” Rebecca said. “He’s a very handsome man.”

  “Heck the lot of them are,” Sandy snorted. “Fee’s still a knockout. Ally’s a dream. Brod of course is Brod. A knock ’em dead kind of guy. I think Liz has got her pretty little talons into him.”

  “They’re an item are they?” Rebecca wasn’t sure she liked that.

  “Could be, but Brod’s not an easy man to read. Then again we hardly see anything of him nowadays. He’s got big responsibilities. They keep him busy. One of these days his dad is going to push him too far.”

  “Meaning?” Rebecca glanced up quickly.

  Michael backed off. “I don’t want to explain, Rebecca. I want to have fun. But take my word for it. And what the heck are you doing with that gorgeous chunk of opal around your neck?” He looked down at the glowing opal within its glittery setting.

  “Why do you ask?” Rebecca said, she hoped pleasantly.

  “Miss Rebecca, it’s been causing an incredible amount of interest,” Sandy drawled.

  “Did it cost a million dollars? Actually I didn’t want to wear it,” she confided, “but Stewart insisted. I didn’t bring much in the way of jewellery with me and he was being kind. I thought it was a family piece not the Crown jewels.”

  Sandy raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, in this part of the world it darn near is. You know its story?”

  She felt a chill pass through her. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  For a moment he looked surprised. “It’s not as though I’m initiating you into a big secret.”

  “I love secrets,” Rebecca said when in actual fact dismay was creeping over her.

  “Then we can’t disappoint you,” a familiar voice said from just behind her shoulder.

  “Ah hell, Brod, you’re not going to steal Rebecca away?” Sandy asked with a mixture of disgust and resignation in his voice.

  “I really have to speak to her, Sandy. You’ll get your turn.”

  Sandy stared into Rebecca’s eyes. “Promise?”

  “I promise, Michael,” she said, feeling herself tense all over at the thought of being in Broderick Kinross’s arms.

  “Gosh, I didn’t know my name sounded so good,” Sandy relinquished her to Brod and moved off, catching another girl around the waist without missing a beat.

  “You’ve created a sensation tonight.” Brod was shocked by how natural it seemed to hold her. So natural he had the mad notion to abruptly pull back.

  “So it appears,” she answered dryly. She tilted her head to look up at him, letting her gaze linger on him. Knowing she was a fool. The sapphire eyes were flashing danger signals, his handsome face taut within its Byronic frame of dark hair. She couldn’t imagine a man looking more stunning. Or more elegant for that matter. He showed his breeding. Even in his everyday denim work clothes.

  “That’s a beautiful dress.” He traced a searing glance down her face, her throat, to the lilac shadowed cleft of her breast.

  “Thank you.” She tossed it off very coolly, though she had trouble catching her breath.

  “One needs a beautiful dress if you’re going to wear important jewellery.”

  “You’re dancing with me for a reason.” She threw down the challenge.

  “I think we understand each other.” He nodded.

  “So it’s the necklace?”

  “You betcha.” He moved her closer as another couple threatened to bump into them.

  “So do you want to tell me all about it?” she invited.

  “You mean Dad didn’t?” He gave her a twisted smile, scepticism pricking his eyes.

  “He told me he’d tell me about its history some time.” She tried to hide her fluster.

  Her ethereal appearance was deceptive, he thought. She really handled herself well under fire. “Its not as though it’s a closely guarded secret.”

  “You’d be doing me a big favour if you’d get on with it,” she flared, very slightly.

  He stared back at her through appraising eyes. “The necklace you’re wearing has been presented to every Kinross bride for generations. No one else wears it. Not Fee. Not my sister. I last saw it adorning my mother’s neck. You’ll know already the Kinross Cameron fortunes were largely built on a big opal strike in 1860?”

  “Yes, I’ve read all about that,” she confirmed, shock pouring into her. “Fee has told me a great deal more.”

  “Yet no one mentioned Cecilia’s Necklace?”

  His cynicism was intolerable. “That’s what I’m wearing?”

  “The magnolia image is just right for it. How smart of Dad to realise.”

  “I didn’t want to wear it,�
�� she answered him, her voice like cut glass.

  “But you have such a sense of style.”

  “Your father insisted.” She tried to swallow a tide of feelings. “I didn’t like to offend him.”

  “Would you have worn whatever dress he wanted as well?”

  The music momentarily stopped. All the guests applauded wildly. It was her moment to escape but he kept a light hold of her arm, trapping her like a fluttering bird in a cage.

  “I really don’t have to put up with this,” she said after a stricken minute. Every pulse in her body was jumping.

  “You really do.” He glanced over her satin sheened dark head at the swirling dancers. “You’re free to go back and sit beside Dad as soon as I’ve done.”

  “I can walk off right now.” Yet his magnetism was a powerful thing.

  “Try it,” he said very quietly, a warning in his eyes.

  “Bullies don’t appeal to me.” Her mind and her senses were furiously at war.

  “I wouldn’t dream of bullying you.” His touch gentled. “By the same token, devious little Scarlett O’Hara types don’t appeal to me.”

  “You’re talking nonsense.”

  God wasn’t he? He felt incredibly mixed up but his voice was hard. “Not after what’s happened tonight. Every last person here witnessed it. They’ll all go off to spread the news.”

  “Which is?” Her heart was beating so swiftly she hated him.

  “You have considerable standing in my father’s eyes. Not to say power.”

  “Perhaps he was just being kind.” She knew he wasn’t.

  Brod laughed. “Being kind isn’t quite Dad’s style. Hell, Miss Hunt, he might as well have given you a great big engagement ring. I know my mother’s was a flawless four carat solitaire. It’s still in the safe.”

  She broke clear of him suddenly but he caught her hand, drawing her off the floor towards a stand of golden canes that had been brought in for decoration.

  “I’m genuinely shocked at what you’re saying.” She swung to face him. In fact a kind of fear tore through her.

 

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