by Margaret Way
Only it wasn't affection. Not on his part. Nor hers. This yearning without end was physical. Passion. Desire. What was happening to her was not a demonstration of affection, but an exquisitely sensitive seduction.
Seduction. As the word tore through her brain, Ty suddenly put one arm around her, half lifting her off the ground as his slowly questing mouth abruptly covered her own. She gave a trembling gasp and tried to shut her teeth, but this thing that was between them would not allow her. Not yet. She felt a tremendous rush of dark pleasure. Something very powerful and voluptuous. His tongue reached out and caught hers in a love play where no love was allowed. By degrees she was going under. Possessed by a forbidden rapture. He couldn't, shouldn't be kissing her like this. She shouldn't allow it. Only her body, revealed beneath its thin covering, was visibly responding to such unprecedented stimulus. Her slight young breasts lifted and seemed to swell, nipples peaking like thirsty buds.
She wanted... She wanted... God, she wanted...
'Ty!' She wrenched her mouth away, her fine skin grazed by the faint rasp of his.
It seemed to be as difficult for him. She could see the shock in his densely blue eyes.
'Wasn't this inevitable?' he asked finally, his tone brittle enough to crack. 'That was straight out of a fantasy.'
It was crazy. We've gone a lifetime fighting.' That's not true!' he said, so fiercely that it startled her. 'When you were a little girl I could pull you on to my knee any time I wanted. Only the old man made sure we were parted. By the time you were thirteen, you yourself started to sow the seeds of rejection. You wanted no other emotion but hostility. In-fighting. Something Like that. You'd discovered there was terrible pain in caring. What amazes us all is how easily Marcia gave you up. The old man must have had some powerful hold over her.'
'A good thing I'm such a very independent person,' Morgan said offhandedly, her mind dominated by far more pressing emotions. She felt enormously depressed, yet over-stimulated. Her habitual antagonism towards Ty was no more than a warning system. Some biological defence in the presence of his threat to her. The fact that he had now kissed her, and like that, put their relationship on an even more stressful plane.
'If you're willing to walk back to the house like that?' His blue eyes swept her from head to toe.
'Look at yourself.'
He shrugged, as arrogant and handsome as a fallen angel. 'Funerals aren't really my kind of do.'
'What about will readings?' she asked.
His eyes were like jewels in a black-velvet setting. 'Let's face that when it happens. You're gong to need help, Morgan. Bright as you are, you're going to need all the support the family can give you.'
'Forget the family.' she said sharply. 'You mean you. Your mother and sisters vote just the way you tell them.'
'I'm unlikely to tell them to do anything unfavourable to Hartland interests.'
'Hartland interests mean you at the top. I know how important you are, Ty, to all our operations. You've built on everything your father left you. You even showed E.J. there was more to wheeling and dealing than even he knew about, but you just might discover the highest you're going to go in the Hartland Empire is being my deputy!'
Ty looked down at her, her drenched appearance emphasising her physical fragility, and a small smile played around his lips. 'God save the Queen,' he mocked her gently. 'Don't let's worry about possible usurpers now.'
Chapter Two
THE house was crowded with people when Morgan came downstairs again. Her hair hung long and gleaming around her face, and this time she wore violet. She had so few clothes. E.J. would have been bitterly offended to see just how many were laughing and coughing very quietly into drinks. It was like the start of a cocktail party. Keep your balance, Morgan thought. A few sincere ones have just got to be here.
There was a traffic jam at the front door and Morgan could see Pat O'Donough's red head as he fought to get to her.
'Morgan!' He was by her side, separating the mourners, revellers—whatever—by virtue of his bulk. Why, Morgan,' he clasped her small hand between his, 'you're so pale. You look as if you're going to faint.'
'Not yet, I'm not.' From her vantage point on the stairs, Morgan could see Cecilia's smooth blonde head as she ushered the more important visitors into the drawing-room. Rich and beautiful Cecilia, as sensual as a Rubens. That was where Ty got his extraordinary sexual aura from. The twins, handsome as they were, didn't have it.
'Come down here to me,' Patrick fussed. 'You know how I feel. My heart grieves for you.'
'I appreciate that, Pat. I really do.'
'Oh, sure,' he sighed. 'I know you don't really think you need anyone, but you do. You need a friend.'
'As a friend, you're a wash-out, Paddy,' Morgan told him.
"You may be right! God, I'm in love with you. Doesn't that mean something?'
'Thanks, Pat,' Morgan removed her hand. 'Have you got a drink?'
'Mum and Dad are here.' he told her. 'Naturally they want to pay their respects.'
'I had no idea E.J. had so many close friends.'
'I honestly don't think he had a friend in the world,' Patrick mused without malice. 'Apart from you, sugar.' His tawny gaze sharpened. 'How come you and Ty just mooched off?'
'Some people like to be alone after they've buried their loved ones.'
Pat took her elbow and led her down the remaining stairs. 'Yeah, sure. Except Ty loathed E.J. They were really building up to something, weren't they, those two?'
'Some men spend their entire lives jockeying for control,' Morgan replied, nodding gravely to the many people who looked her way. All of them had made the natural assumption she would be named as Edward Hartland's heiress, which automatically made her one of the richest women in the country.
'I wouldn't trust Ty if I were you,' Pat bent his curly red head to whisper near her ear. 'Or the family. They're all set to move out of Tyson's Landing and into Jahandra.'
'You've always been jealous of Ty, haven't you?' Morgan reminded him.
'Why the heck not? He diminishes us all. You know, don't you, sweetie, he's the one old E.J. really preferred?'
Morgan turned on him so suddenly that he fell back, much as he would if a silky terrier suddenly snapped at his heels. 'Ty's a man, a real man, to be sure. And I'm a woman. I can't change that, but let me tell you, Ginger, I am perfectly acceptable as E.J.'s heir.'
Pat gave in immediately, flushed and embarrassed. 'You're a little trimmer,' he said with a glassy grin. 'You'll make some man a wonderful mate.'
'But not you!'
'I could take care of you, my darling.'
'Excuse me, please, Pat,' Morgan said forcefully, there must be some way I can get all these people out of the house.'
In the end, it was Ty who actually hastened the mass exodus.
'Everyone understands, I know.' He looked at them, smiling remotely, like a prince.
Of course they did. Where E.J. had been thoroughly disliked, Ty had the charisma of a superstar. His looks alone made an indelible impression, and he had everything else besides: voice, grooming, manner, exceptional ability, the natural, high-mettled self-confidence of a man who had been born a personage. He was the despair of every match-making mother.
Henry De Lisle, E.J.'s only worthwhile friend, partner and solicitor, was staying on at the house and he spoke to Morgan with genuine affection and sympathy. 'What matters most, my dear,' he told her, 'is that your whole life is in front of you. You know, I told your grandfather many times I didn't approve of your upbringing. It would have rattled a lesser person right to the roots of their being, but somehow privation made you strong. E.J. was incapable of showing any outward emotion, but I want you to know he was proud of you.'
'I had the feeling he was always prouder of Ty,' said Morgan ironically.
'Ah well, my dear.' Henry shook his balding, silver head but didn't deny it. 'It took E.J. a very long time to realise a woman could be strong. He always thought looking after houses and ha
ving babies was woman's business. To be absolutely specific, E.J. saw women as powerless in the scheme of things. He was of the generation who never contemplated giving women charge of anything outside parties.'
'Then I must have been some kind of experiment.' Morgan fixed her green eyes on him.
'I guess you were.' Henry replied, his voice quiet. 'When would you like me to read the will?'
Morgan shrugged. 'After dinner, please.'
It was almost ten o'clock before they moved into E.J.'s study, a large, depressing room with heavy panelled walls and ceiling, and housing a wide selection of guns and weapons, a strange standing circle of spears and trophies from the hunt.
'God, isn't this an awful room?' Claire drawled. 'I nearly throw up every time I come into it.'
'Dreadful!' her twin echoed disgustedly. 'If I were you, Morgan, I'd heave every stick of furniture out of the house and get the decorators in.'
'I'm not sure I'd do that.' Cecilia said mildly. 'Many, many things are extremely valuable.'
'I detest Victoriana myself.'
'I hope that means we're not going to fight about the furniture.' Morgan murmured, 'Aren't you going to sit down, Ty?'
'May I humbly decline?' He bowed at her, six feet two, dynamic male, flaunting his arrogant male beauty.
'It isn't very polite,' she said shortly.
'Do sit down, darling,' Cecilia said. 'Beside me.'
Henry, seated behind E.J.'s massive, dust-coated mahogany desk, because no one, not even Morgan' dared go near it, wiped his glasses and put them on his nose. The bridge of his nose had almost disappeared, so they slipped to the tip, but this did not prevent him from opening out the official-looking document, the last will and testament of Edward Jonathan Whitelock Hartland.
'Gee, I hope he left me something.' Sandra said wistfully. 'It would be just like the old devil to have left me that moose's head.'
'We have only just buried him, Sandra.' Henry clicked his tongue.
'Can't you wait for the dust to settle?' Ty asked.
'I guess I won't mind giving you the old moose,' said Morgan.
'Dandy, just dandy.' Sandra gave a wry grin. 'I do wish Ty hadn't told him to shove it so often. You're going to end up with the lot.'
'Oh, I think you're all right, Sandy.' Morgan's luminous eyes glowed very green. 'Furthermore, it wouldn't hurt you to be poor.'
'If we're going to be informal,' Claire defended her twin, 'you have to think about getting some decent clothes, Morgan. You're starting to look like something from Lifeline.'
'All right, girls,' Ty said mildly. 'That's enough. Henry is wanting to start.'
'Just one thing,' Cecilia begged. 'Please don't start calling poor old Edward the deceased, Henry.'
'All right, Cecilia. I won't. We all knew him.'
Ty rocked back on his chair. 'Yes, indeed,' he said drily.
Henry looked at Morgan for a moment, then began. In a room full of beautiful, golden people, the landed aristocracy, blessed with every possible good fortune, she looked more and more like the denizen of another world. She had always been slight, and the shock of E.J.'s sudden death had rendered her ethereal, Henry didn't know exactly why, but he always expected one day he would turn around and catch her when her wings were clearly visible. Hadn't Ty always called her an elf? There was no denying she had an enchanting wild beauty. What he was going to do to her now made him sick to the stomach. He thought he knew every rotten thing there was to know about E.J., yet a codicil had been added, one he had not known about.
Don't worry, you're dreaming, Morgan thought. It's a terrible nightmare and you're going to wake up.
'Well, that's the gist of it.' Henry said. 'The twins get parcels of shares, as you do, Cecilia, Much larger, of course. Bequests to the staff. A few to the larger charities. Apart from that, Ty gets sixty per cent of the entire Hartland Holdings, Morgan gets the remaining forty per cent, and they have equal shares in Jahandra homestead. E.J. has further stipulated that both must reside here, otherwise each forfeits their share to the other. Ty, as E.J.'s heir, would need to remain on Jahandra to administer the station, in any case. Jahandra is, so to speak, the jewel in the crown.'
'It's not legal!' Morgan shouted.
"Darling girl!' Cecilia looked across at her with pity.
Morgan leapt up. 'I tell you, it's not legal. I am E.J.'s only grandchild. Is that right, Henry?'
'Surely there aren't any more shocks in store?' Ty asked.
'Shocks?' Morgan swirled, long hair flying in a raven cloud. 'You got to him, didn't you, you devil?'
'You think that?' Ty stared up at her, blue eyes hooded in a fashion Morgan well remembered.
'I will fight this!'
The twins said nothing, fidgeting with their long beautiful fingers, enamel-tipped,
'Please, dear, we sympathise.' Cecilia stood up.
'Maybe it was your idea?' Morgan asked. 'You're one hell of a sexy lady.'
'Agreed.' Ty said tightly, 'but I don't think it worked on E J.'
'You're upset, Morgan.' Cecilia waved a restraining hand at her adored son.
'You bet I'm upset.' Morgan shouted, tears starting to roll down her pale golden cheeks. 'Jahandra is mine. God knows I've paid for it. I'll never, never share it with Ty.!"
She ran from the room, heart pounding, desperate. She was going to go into a violent seizure. How could E J. have done this to her? He was unhinged, unstable. She had plenty of money now for lawyers. She would fight them. Ty, with the hunger for power in his eyes; Cecilia, in her elegant black suit, marvellous pearls at her throat, a diamond brooch on her lapel. Impossible to guess her age, Cecilia. The golden goddess with the calm facade, Schemer for her son. The family dripped with schemers.
She didn't even know where she was going. The house was no longer hers. It was Ty's. He had absolute power over Jahandra, Tyson's Landing, Murak Muruk, Emerald Downs in the Territory, He wasn't even thirty and he was filthy rich and powerful. More powerful now than even E.J. had been, because he controlled his mother and sisters. He would never never control her.
Morgan rushed into the night, for once blind to the great jewelled vault of the sky above her. The aborigines on the station were staging their own wake. At least they respected the dead. Not that E.J. was finally dead until they staged the mourning ceremony. He was supposed to be watching over his close relatives, while his spirit double waited for him at the Dreaming site.
Watching over his relatives! Morgan could have shrieked. She might have shrieked for ail she knew. No one would hear or take notice. The air was vibrating with the women's wailing, praises sung at this time of the great Byamee, the white chieftain who was making his long journey to the diamond-encrusted sky.
Oh, what a terrible man you were, E.J., Morgan's heart was beating in time with the spirit drums. She had never in her life felt such acute emotional stress. Not even when Marcia had left her. Marcia was no one's idea of a conventional parent, Neither was E.J. of a grandparent. It couldn't have been more shockingly apparent. To a very large extent she was the victim Ty had called her. Except for her courage.
Control your emotions or they will control you.
How often had E.J. said that to her? Even in old age his striking looks and his power were clearly evident. Except E.J. had no emotions. Someone had cut out his heart long ago.
As ever in times of stress, she found herself heading towards the stables. Horses were the only really nice people she knew. The only ones she loved and admired. Now that E.J. was dead, she would take Sultan. She wanted a strong, impetuous ride. There wasn't a thing she didn't know about horsemanship, and Sultan was the boldest, noblest horse on the station. Lots of people said horses couldn't talk, but Morgan had ridden horses that could talk a blue streak.
Why wouldn't they talk to a leprechaun, anyway?
Ty had said so many things. Robert Tyson Hartland, master of Jahandra. The very thought of it was driving her insane!
She was just heading under the archway
that led to the stables complex when Ty came after her with giant strides. He grasped her shoulder abruptly and brought her to a shuddering halt.
'If you think I'm going to stand aside and let you break your neck, you're a lot crazier than I thought,' he said furiously.
'Would you get your filthy hand off my shoulder?' she shouted. 'I was here first. These are my horses. They love me. Immediately you leave I'm going to tell them all to kill you the minute you jump on their backs.'