Kitabı oku: «The Nanny and the Millionaire: Promoted: Nanny to Wife / The Italian Tycoon and the Nanny / The Millionaire's Nanny Arrangement»

Is the new nanny the perfect wife?

The Nanny and the Millionaire

Three emotional and exciting romances from

three super Mills & Boon authors!

The Nanny and

the Millionaire

PROMOTED: NANNY TO WIFE

MARGARET WAY

THE ITALIAN TYCOON AND THE NANNY

REBECCA WINTERS

THE MILLIONAIRE’S NANNY ARRANGEMENT

LINDA GOODNIGHT

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PROMOTED: NANNY TO WIFE

MARGARET WAY

About the Author

MARGARET WAY takes great pleasure in her work, and works hard at her pleasure. She enjoys tearing off to the beach with her family at weekends, loves haunting galleries and auctions, and is completely given over to French champagne “for every possible joyous occasion”. She was born and educated in the river city of Brisbane, Australia, and now lives within sight and sound of beautiful Moreton Bay.

This book is dedicated to my friend and much valued editor, Linda Fildew

CHAPTER ONE

THEY had been on the road for what seemed like forever; Marissa Devlin, her seven-year-old half brother, Riley and Riley’s brave and incredibly protective cattle dog, a Queensland Blue Heeler, called Dusty. A number of times on the long trek from Brisbane, the State capital, through the fertile central plains of that vast State, the fiercely loyal Dusty, one of the most intelligent breeds there is, had put himself between his ‘family’ and anyone who looked or acted in the least bit suspicious; indeed anyone who had given the intrepid trio a second or third glance.

Dusty was a splendid guard dog, not to mention the fact he could talk, something that gave Marissa so much comfort she always invited Dusty into the think tank. Her rationale was she needed backup and some reassurance she hadn’t made one huge mistake uprooting them from a fairly ‘normal’ life to hit the wild blue yonder. At least Riley and Dusty were loving it. To them it was all a bit of a game. Neither of them fully comprehended the gamble she had taken.

In another life Dusty had done what cattle dogs do best, working and driving stock on a North Queensland cattle run; these days he was semi-retired, having taken on the responsible job of looking after his ‘family.’ Cattle dogs generally were one-person dogs. Nowadays Dusty answered to her, though he was still officially Riley’s dog. Before that? Marissa’s mind had to shut down on that one. There was simply too much pain to go there. The past had to be shoved away—although wasn’t the past always there inside her, much like her heart and her lungs? But she had to focus on what lay ahead.

What lay ahead, came up on cue; a signpost, so weathered it could have dated back to a prehistoric time, listing destinations she had never heard of, let alone could get her tongue around.

Appilayarowie?Balukyambut? Cocatatocallen? Aboriginal and why not? This was Dreamtime country. From the severe cant on the signpost she didn’t think the directions would be very reliable. It would work just as well to pull a blindfold over Riley’s eyes and ask him to point.

Where’s your sense of adventure, girl?

She was hoping to find it the very next day. At the moment her anxieties were outweighing her positive feelings.

A stand of many trunked gums were coming up on her right. Time for a break. Her arms were quivering from the time she had spent holding the wheel. She drove the utility-fire engine red with a painted black panther at full stretch on the driver’s side—supposedly a bonus according to the car salesman—off the endless Outback highway, and parked it in the shade of the ubiquitous eucalypts. She had read somewhere—she sometimes thought she could win a prize for trivia—that eucalypts, all six hundred recorded species of them, made up the great bulk of the continent’s natural tree-life. Eucalypts were arguably—not in the fire season—one of Australia’s finest gifts to the world.

In the heat, the gums’ narrow blue-grey drooping leaves denser at the bottom than the top, were turned edge on to the sun. Scant shade or not they gave off a wonderful aromatic fragrance. It immediately soothed her much like the hauntingly sweet native boronia oil she used to sprinkle on her pillow at night. The bush had such a marvellous smell. It had always been one of her great pleasures to breathe in the warm gushes of natural perfumes; the lovely lemon-scented gums, the grevilleas and acacias, the tremendous variety of native flowering shrubs and ground covers, the crush of wild flowers underfoot. She had found nothing more entrancing than wandering the rolling hillsides around her Brisbane home, mid-Winter, early Spring, when the hills were alight with golden wattles, mile upon mile. Wattle was the national floral emblem and she adored the fragrance, but it had always given her cousin, Lucy, hay fever. Not that Lucy would have joined her in her wanderings through the splendid isolation anyway.

They were well into the great South West of the State, the real Outback. It was almost like driving onto a new planet. One to replace poor old downgraded Pluto. No wattles here, but a burnished yellow ocean of Spinifex that went a long way towards concealing the parched reality of the landscape. The tall seed stalks glinted silver in the brilliant, dancing light. More than once she had felt glad she hadn’t ventured into this endless expanse alone. No wonder they called it the Never Never. She wasn’t entirely sure the spirits of the place welcomed them. Instinct told her they were watching. As a consequence, primal little fears had begun gnawing at her mind. They hadn’t passed a single vehicle for days to break the eerie notion they had entered not only another world, but also a different dimension.

City born and bred she was gripped by the extraordinary mystique of this vast, arid region. The very air was saturated with it, but she recognised the mood of the Guardian Spirits mightn’t always be pleasant. She suspected, too, the magnetic pull would get stronger and stronger the closer one came to the Wild Heart, the dead centre of the ancient continent and who knows, maybe the heart of the world? Every day they were travelling deeper into the riverine desert known as the Channel Country, the home of the cattle kings, bordering the great Simpson Desert.

That was the reason she was out here: to land a job as a governess on one of the Channel Country stations so she could keep Riley with her until she felt he was old enough and secure enough in himself to go off to boarding school. That would take pretty much all of what remained of the nest egg her maternal grandmother had left her, but she didn’t take her responsibilities lightly. Besides she was grateful to the great force called Destiny that had brought Riley into her life.

She was certainly qualified to teach. Overqualified perhaps for young children, though teaching the very young was an important job. She had a Bachelor of Arts diploma, plus Bachelor of Education and had begun studying part-time for her Master’s. The advent of Riley into her life had put that ambition on hold, at least for now. Saint Catherine’s, her alma mater, where she had taught History and Economics to Classes 10 and 12 had been sorry to let her go.

You’ll always have a place here, Marissa, if you need it. We won’t say goodbye, my dear. It’s good luck! And make sure I hear from you.

Marissa had every intention of keeping her promise to her long-time mentor, Dr Eleanor Bell, headmistress of Saint Catherine’s who had always tried to make life easier for her, bless her! The atmosphere at school had always been much warmer than that at home. No, not home. Sadly never that! It was merely the house where she had lived with her uncle, aunt and cousin Lucy after her mother had died until her first year at University when she had moved into a women’s college on campus; liberation and a whole lot of problems solved in one swoop; until she became aware of Riley’s existence. That had changed her course irrevocably.

Marissa shook herself out of her preoccupations and stood out of the ute, stretching her arms above her head, generally limbering up. Dusty bounded down from the back of the vehicle and took off for the wide-open spaces, startling a great flock of white cockatoos, their cheeky yellow crests raised in a broad crown as they rose into the air, filling it with their harsh protests.

‘Go for it, boy!’ Riley’s voice was slightly croaky as he called after him. Dusty cooped up for so long tore around the vast empty tract, full of joy at being able to exercise his well-muscled, sturdy body.

‘Get out and stretch your legs, as well, Riley.’ Marissa bent into the vehicle to pull a road map out of the glove box, taking a good look at Riley while she was at it. Riley was an asthmatic. That meant as his surrogate mother she suffered, as well. She always kept her eye on him without making it too obvious, watching out for the signs. The specialist she had taken him to after that last bad bout told her he would probably grow out of it around thirteen or fourteen. She prayed the doctor was right. She had his medication. They could never be without his puffer but so far so good. She was hoping the dry Outback air would be beneficial to his condition. There were many claims this was so. She wasn’t in the least surprised. The air seemed cleaner, brighter, more translucent than any she had ever breathed.

Riley obeyed her instantly. He was no trouble at all, no behavioural problems. Her father had brought him up well.

‘You okay?’ she asked lightly, gently squeezing his shoulder. He was small for his age, all fragile bones. Riley had lived a stressful life. She suspected there were many dark moments he hadn’t told her about, but somehow he had built up an inner strength and courage by the age of seven that often brought the smart of tears to her eyes. Her little brother—she had stopped thinking of him as her half brother—had made his way into her heart.

‘Sure.’ Riley smiled up at her with his radiant blue eyes. They were densely fringed by black lashes, increasing the impact.

‘You sound a little bit croaky?’ She knew how fast Riley’s condition could deteriorate.

‘Dry,’ he explained, touching his throat. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Ma. I’m fine. I’ll tell you when my chest gets tight. Can I have a drink?’

‘Of course you can. There’s cold bottled water in the cooler. I’ll join you. Better give Dusty a drink when he comes back.’

‘If he comes back,’ Riley hooted, running off to the back of the ute. He reappeared a minute later with two small bottles of water. He passed one to Marissa before pointing to the signpost. ‘Aboriginal names,’ he commented. Riley knew a good deal more about aboriginal names and people than the city-born Marissa. ‘Which way Wungalla do you suppose?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ Marissa’s tone was laconic. She downed the cold bottle of water like it was the nectar of the gods. ‘From the lean on that post it could be back where we came from or a thousand miles down the track.’

‘This is a big country,’ Riley said proudly. ‘You’ll get used to it, Ma.’

There was that Ma again. Despite Marissa’s efforts to get Riley to call her by her full first name, he stuck consistently to Ma. She knew what it was all about. Riley had been desperate to find a mother figure. She was it. The Ma stood for Mum. From the reaction in the bush towns they had already passed through she knew people immediately jumped to the conclusion she was indeed Riley’s mother; another teenage pregnancy, another single mother probably on the run. A few times she had introduced Riley as her little brother but it was plain no one believed her.

Riley, of course, did nothing to help. If people wanted to believe Marissa was his mother, he was thrilled with that. She was everything he wanted a mum to be, as he had so poignantly told her. So that made her around fifteen at the time of conception, and around sixteen when she supposedly had given birth to him? In the normal course of events sisters or half sisters rarely took on the single-handed rearing of their siblings.

Going down on her haunches, Marissa spread the map out on the parched ground covered in heaps of bronze leaves. She couldn’t put it on the bonnet of the ute. The metal was hot enough to fry eggs. ‘Ah, here we are,’ she said, trying to sound the seasoned Outback navigator when navigating was way down her list of skills. At least she had made sure they carried plenty of water and supplies. ‘By the look of it Wungalla is a cattle station. A big one!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s about 150 kilometres northwest of the town of Ransom.’

‘Why do you suppose they called it that?’ Riley asked, half turning his head to keep Dusty in sight. ‘Doesn’t ransom mean money you have to pay a bad person to let their captive go?’

‘Amazing! Is there any word you don’t know?’ Marissa smiled up at him, feeling a rush of love and pride. Initially devastated by the fact she had a sibling she had never known existed, Riley was a huge plus in her life. She had never received much affection from Aunt Allison or her cousin Lucy. Riley had been ready to shower her with love from Day One. Come to that, their bonding was instant. Such was the power of blood.

Riley gave a guffaw that turned into a muffled sob, then a covering cough. ‘Daddy used to teach me lots of things.’

Daddy! Michael Devlin, one time brilliant corporate lawyer, deceased alcoholic who had ended his days in an Outback mission shelter.

Riley’s daddy, her father! How she had adored him. Pretty much like Riley who nearly eighteen months after their father’s death, still cried for him at night, trying to stifle his heart-wrenching sobs with a pillow pulled over his face. She cried, too, but the tears fell silently down the walls of her heart. She thought she had cried herself out years ago, but she had soon learned tears were eternal.

Motherless Riley, was a ‘thinking’ boy, a highly intelligent little fellow who had physically clung to her like a drowning child would cling to a life line from the very moment he had set eyes on her walking down the corridor of a one room bush school in the North Queensland hinterland. Marissa was family. He had recognised her without a single identifying word being spoken. Both of them looked like their father; the black Irish, blue-black hair, vivid blue eyes, and, in his children’s case, skin like porcelain. Riley’s likely fate at that time would have been to be taken into care.

Twenty-one years of age and she had found herself surrendering to her sense of duty and the memory of the great love she had borne her father before tragedy had come into their lives, ripping them apart. Though she had known at the time what hardship could lie ahead she had consented to taking on the raising of a child, another woman’s child, who had abandoned Riley and her much older partner, their father, when Riley was barely four. All efforts to find Riley’s mother after Michael Devlin’s death had ended in failure. It was as though the young woman, said to have Polynesian blood in her, had vanished off the face of the earth, leaving Riley an orphan. An orphan that is until Marissa had come into his life, never knowing, or even suspecting her father, a strikingly handsome man, had formed a relationship with a young woman he had met on his wanderings and had had a child with her.

Tragedy had shattered Michael Devlin’s life, a life he had considered perfect and set him on his downward spiral; one from which he could never find the strength to pull out.

‘Suicide! That’s what it was!’ Uncle Bryan, her father’s brother had cried in great distress when finally they got the letter from the head of the bush mission, a Pastor McCauley, informing them of Michael’s death and the existence of Michael’s small son then in Pastor McCauley’s and Mrs McCauley’s care.

‘Gutless!’ Bryan’s wife, Allison, had added in her cruel judgemental way. Aunt Ally had no difficulty finding fault in others, but never in herself. ‘Michael had everything going for him, and he threw it all away! That child isn’t coming here, Bryan. I’m telling you that now. We took pity on Marissa and raised her. Don’t imagine for one minute I’m going to take on another one of Michael’s children. He should never have shacked up with that woman let alone made her pregnant. If they can’t find the mother, the boy will have to go into care.’

Aunt Ally didn’t understand grief. She didn’t know much about the human condition. She had never fully understood how much her father had loved her mother. How much his life’s happiness was invested in her. Then again Ally had always been jealous of the beautiful Maureen, Marissa’s mother.

Yet it was Uncle Bryan and Aunt Ally who had raised her after her father had taken to the road. Before doing so Michael Devlin had set up a substantial trust fund to take care of all her expenses and see her through University, but Aunt Ally always omitted to mention that fact as though ‘the raising’ had involved a huge financial burden on them. It hadn’t. Her father had seen to that part of his duty before he took off.

Michael Devlin had been a man full of guilt and despair. He had lost his adored young wife in a car crash with him at the wheel. That made him in his own mind a murderer. Miraculously he had emerged with fairly minor injuries. Maureen had not been so lucky. Marissa would have been with them only as fate would have it she had been invited to a sleepover to celebrate a class mate’s twelfth birthday.

Marissa, the survivor, had had to battle her terrible grief virtually on her own. The family had been devastated by the tragedy, but no one had possessed the gift of being able to offer wisdom and comfort to a child so violently and unexpectedly rendered a near orphan. Grief and guilt had consumed her father to the extent less than a year after the tragedy he had abandoned his glittering career and his child to go on his travels in a vain bid to save himself and his sanity.

The way I am, my darling, I’m no use to anyone. You’ll be better off without me. At least for a while. But always know I love you.

The while, they had all hoped and prayed would be no more than a few months had stretched into long years. Uncle Bryan, a senior public servant, was a good man who had conscientiously tried to do his best for her in difficult circumstances. The trouble was, his wife’s maternal streak was fully stretched rearing their only child, their daughter, Lucy. Bryan had loved and admired his younger far more brilliant brother, Michael, and truth be known he had always been more than half in love with Maureen, albeit in respectful silence. Lucy was two years older than Marissa. Marissa would not be alone.

Well, that had been her father’s reasoning. Ten years later, not yet fifty, her father was dead from alcohol abuse. There had never been any real chance of his pulling himself together. Once he had enjoyed the perfect life with everything a man could possibly wish for. A beautiful, loving wife, a precious child, a high profile career, the grand home that went with it, the luxury cars. He had come back from time to time, suffering written all over him, telling Bryan and Ally they were ‘doing a fine job.’ Then he took off again, still hating himself for what he had done. Michael Devlin had been so unforgiving of himself he might just as well have committed murder.

‘So how long is it going to take to get to Ransom?’ Riley was asking, bringing Marissa out of her sad reverie. He bent to pat the exuberant Dusty who had briefly returned, huffing pleasurably, tongue lolling, brown eyes looking smilingly up at his owner, before haring off again into the wild blue yonder, making the most of his run.

‘We’re on the last lap of the journey.’ Marissa rose on her long legs, ruffling Riley’s thick, silky curls. He really was the most beautiful boy. How ever had his mother left him? Wouldn’t that have torn her heart out? Abandoning a small child already asthmatic with a desperately unhappy, unstable, alcoholic husband was negligence on the grand scale. ‘We’ll treat ourselves to a tiptop meal,’ she promised her gallant little brother.

‘Do you think they’ll have a burger bar?’ Riley asked hopefully. A burger was cordon bleu stuff.

Marissa refolded the map. ‘I’m certain Ransom can rise to a hamburger with chips. Hey—’ she broke off, staring into the heat hazed distance ‘—is Dusty herding those kangaroos?’ she asked anxiously.

‘That’s what cattle dogs do!’ Riley, the little bushie, laughed aloud. ‘They even herd people.‘

‘But the kangaroos mightn’t like it!’ Marissa was torn between amusement and concern. ‘Dusty’s a forceful little devil. Whistle him back, Riley, before one of those roos gets good and mad and gives him a kick.’

‘It’s okay. Dusty knows all about cattle, and emus and roos,’ Riley said with some pride, but he did what he was told and whistled up his dog who came flying back towards them.

By this stage of the long journey the bush town of Ransom seemed strangely familiar. They had passed through similar towns, towns that looked like they had been there forever and would remain unchanged until Doomsday. There was hardly a soul about. The broad main street drowsed in the all powerful sun … 4WDs, all with bull-bars, some of them spectacular, and covered in red dust lined the kerbs. There was a gas station, a huge open garage where a mechanic was working that obviously did repairs, a few shops, a one-man police station, a café, a community hall and the ubiquitous pub where two old-timers sat on a bench out the front. Opposite the pub was a small park, an oasis in the burnt ochre landscape.

The founding fathers had done something remarkable. They had planted a dozen or more jacarandas that had thrived in the hot, dry conditions. It was late October and they were out in all their billowing, mauve-blue glory, some forty feet high and about the same in spread. Spring-pools of spent blossom decorated the ground at their feet, turning a small bush park into a dream of beauty.

‘Aren’t the trees lovely, Ma?’ Riley said, leaning against her, always hungry for the reassurance of her touch. ‘I never thought they’d grow way out here in the desert.’

‘They grow in the high dry deserts of their native Brazil,’ she told him, giving his thin shoulders a hug. ‘The dryer the year the better the show. You wouldn’t have seen jacarandas way up in the tropics where you came from, more likely the poincianas, the cascaras and tulip trees. Brisbane parks and gardens are full of them all. The jacarandas would be in bloom now, but we’re not missing them, are we? Someone has planted them all here. They really should be pronounced hakharanda—it’s much softer isn’t it?—like they do in Rio. Do you know where Brazil is? Brasilia is the capital, but Rio de Janeiro is the largest city and I’m told very beautiful.’ Every day she managed to get in some general knowledge, as well as taking time out for regular schoolwork.

Riley was still studying the jacarandas with enchanted eyes. ‘Brazil is in South America,’ he answered, as though in a classroom.. ‘It’s really big and the people speak Portuguese.’ His tone changed into wistful. ‘Daddy was the best teacher I’ve ever had outside you, Ma. He started to teach me all sorts of things when I was really little, History and Geography, spelling and writing, as well as my sums. He made everything so interesting, but sometimes he got really sick and I had to stay with Pastor McCauley and his wife at the mission. They were so nice to me.’

‘They’re good, kind people,’ Marissa said, very grateful to the McCauleys.

Riley nodded. ‘Mrs McCauley told me I was just about the smartest kid the mission school had ever seen. I knew tons of things other kids didn’t know. Daddy always spoke to me like a big kid not a little kid. He spoke differently from other people, didn’t he? More correctly. He had the sort of voice you listen to, like yours, Ma. Do you miss being a teacher in your great big school?’ Riley had been very impressed with Saint Catherine’s, the fine buildings and the spacious grounds.

For a moment Marissa was desperate to shed tears. Instead she answered calmly, ‘I have you. I’m going to continue where Daddy left off. In a few years time I want to send you to Daddy’s old school. You’ll find his name on the honour board. He was a brilliant student at school and at University where he won a medal. You know I’m hoping to get work as a governess on one of the stations?’

‘You’ll get it,’ Riley said as though it were a certainty. ‘You’re a really good teacher and kids love you.’

‘A lot of the stations would already have a governess,’ Marissa warned him.

‘Some might be leaving. You never know. Station children are educated at home until they’re old enough to be sent off to boarding school, aren’t they?’

‘That’s right. Usually that’s around ten. The Channel Country is the home of the cattle kings. It’s actually a vast depressed tract of land called a riverine desert on the fringe of the desert proper. The actual rainfall might be low but the great network of channels bring down the monsoonal rains from the North where you were born.’

‘I know all about rain and the Wet Season.’ Riley grimaced. ‘Daddy and I got marooned once when the flood waters rose. Ugh, the mud! We had to wait for days in the truck before we could cross the bridge. Do you suppose Wungalla needs a governess?’ he asked hopefully. He sounded the word out in the soft musical lilt of the station aborigines he would have come to know as a small child. Woo-oon-gah-lah.

‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised!’ She wasn’t about to worry him. ‘Now what about we try the café across the street. It looks clean and cheerful. Beats me why they called it the River Café. There isn’t a river in sight.’

‘Must be a joke. What about Dusty?’ Riley immediately thought of his pet.

‘We’ll do what we usually do. Tie him up outside. Don’t worry, I’ll get him a hamburger.’

‘With lots of tomato sauce. He loves tomato sauce.’ Riley grinned. ‘He’ll even drink it!’

‘That your dog outside?’ the woman inside the café queried when she had been watching them tie Dusty up.

‘His name’s Dusty!’ Riley answered, his beautiful little face lit by a friendly smile.

‘Best dog in the world the Australian Cattle Dog,’ the woman pronounced, wiping her hands on the spotlessly clean apron she wore over a floral dress. ‘You didn’t forget to give ‘im some water?’

‘Oh, no.’ Riley shook his head. ‘Ma and I look after Dusty. We love him. We’re going to get him a hamburger with tomato sauce. Do you make hamburgers?’

‘Make everything, luv,’ the woman said, giving him a wink. She was as short and stout as a barrel with a pleasant face, sharp blue eyes full of a dry humour, deep sun seams fanning out from them ‘Is that what you and your mum are after? Hamburgers?’

‘With chips?’ Riley asked hopefully.

‘With chips.’ She nodded. ‘Sure.’

‘Gee, thank you,’ Riley said politely.

‘Where you goin’, luv?’ The woman flicked a kindly glance that masked more than a touch of sympathy, at Marissa.

Marissa smiled, responding to the woman’s motherly aura. ‘We should introduce ourselves. I’m Marissa Devlin. This is my little brother, Riley.’ Marissa extended her hand and the woman wrung it enthusiastically.

‘Nice to meet yah, luv. I’m Deidre O’Connell. I own this place.’

‘It’s very nice!’ Riley, ever the diplomat piped up. ‘Why do you call it the River Café?’

‘I thought it was kinda witty.’ Deidre gave a spurt of warm, raucous laughter.

‘It is,’ Riley agreed.

‘My, aren’t you a sweet talker and a real little gentleman. Mum brought you up well.’

Why bother to say again Riley was her little brother? ‘I’m hoping to get work as a governess on one of the stations,’ Marissa said. ‘You must be a community leader, Deidre. Would I have a chance?’

The newly elected community leader threw up chubby hands that were surprisingly smooth and delicate. ‘Heavens, luv, you’re too good lookin’. So’s your boy. If you were the Missus on a station would you hire a real looker to take care of yah kids?’

Riley’s blue eyes focused on Deidre with deep puzzlement, but Marissa answered firmly. ‘Yes, I would. If she were a young woman of good character and proven qualifications.’

Deidre ran her thumb down over her dimpled cheek. ‘Struth, luv, governesses fall in love with the boss the whole time.’

‘I won’t be doing that!’ Marissa shook her shoulder-length, curly hair emphatically.

‘No, they’ll be fallin’ head over heels in love with you,’ Deidre retorted. ‘But you need work, luv?’

‘I do.’ Marissa’s expression was very serious. ‘I am—was—a school teacher, a good one. I have references. I need to keep Riley with me for a few more years yet.’

‘Reckon you do, luv.’ Deidre nodded sagely, as if there was no need to explain. ‘What then?’

‘He’ll be ready to go to boarding school.’

Deidre’s mouth fell open in awe. ‘Struth! That’ll cost money, luv.’

‘I have some set by.’ Marissa said.

‘Brave lass!’ Deidre gasped in admiration. ‘But some won’t stretch far, luv. Happen to know it costs a fortune sending a kid away to boarding school. You’re not on the run from anyone are yah? Like a hubby or a boyfriend? You’re okay here. Ransom isn’t even on the Atlas.’

‘I’m not on the run, Deidre, but thank you for your concern. I don’t have a husband or a boyfriend.’

‘Yah soon will!’ Deidre cackled. ‘I’d like to help yah. I recognise class when I see it. Obviously you’ve fallen on hard times. Don’t we all! Now there are stations all over the South West as you know. The closest one to Ransom is Wungalla.’ She, too, pronounced it aboriginal fashion. ‘Don’t reckon Holt would be lookin’ for a governess, though. That’s Holt McMaster. His little girl, Georgia, is six or thereabouts. Right sharp little kid but real homely, not that I should be commenting on such things. But Holt is plain magnificent! His wife, ex-wife, I should say, Tara—they’re divorced—was mighty glamorous but as hoity toity as they come. She made me feel like I’d just rolled out from under a rock. Little Georgia doesn’t take after either of them. Aunty Lois has been staying on Wungalla for quite a while.’ Deidre let her eyes roll heavenwards. ‘That’s Tara’s sister. As I understand it, she supervises Georgia’s lessons. You won’t get your curly little head in there, sweetheart, if you know what I mean?’

‘Oh!’ Marissa let the full implication of that sink in.

‘Better get those hamburgers goin’.’ Deidre announced cheerfully, realigning her stout body. ‘Little fella looks hungry. He wants a bit o’building up, Mum. No offence, luv. I bet you’re a great little mother. Now, what would you like to drink, son? Don’t say any sort of fizzy drink. Rot yah teeth.’

‘An apple juice would be great!’ Riley wisely settled for the healthier alternative.

‘Right! Go and sit over there,’ Deidre instructed. ‘Take the weight off your feet. This won’t take long. Bettcha like ice cream?’

Riley’s smile broadened. ‘Chocolate chip? That’s my favourite.’

The older woman laughed and waved a hand. ‘Say no more.’

They sat across from one another at a window table. They could have spread out anywhere. There were no other customers. ‘Deidre forgot to ask my dietary requirements.’ Marissa leaned across to whisper. ‘She was too busy looking after you.’

‘Don’t you want a hamburger? Everyone wants a hamburger.’ Riley craned his head to see if Deidre was listening in.

‘A hamburger’s fine,’ Marissa said, settling back. A steak sandwich would have been better, or a ham and salad roll, but never mind. Many nights she had found a secluded spot where they could sleep in the back of the ute. Tonight she would ask Deidre if there might be room for them at the pub. It was easy to recognise Deidre was a woman of consequence.

The hamburgers when they came were everything hamburgers should be. The buns were fresh and lightly toasted on the inside, the beef patties topped with a cheese slice were extra tasty. There was also a slice of bacon, a thick slice of tomato, a sprinkle of little salad greens and a thick chunk of home cooked beetroot to give the beef a sweet tang. The accompanying mound of chips was cooked to perfection. Riley had his Tasmanian apple juice, Marissa a cappuccino with two freshly baked cup cakes while Riley polished off a large bowl of chocolate chip ice cream.

‘That was simply wonderful, Deidre,’ Marissa said, meaning it. ‘It hit the spot.’

‘It’s the best hamburger we’ve ever had.’ Riley rubbed his small stomach.

‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ Deidre beamed on them. ‘Why don’t you stick around for a day or two,’ she said to Marissa. ‘I’ll see if I can find out if any of the station folk are lookin’ for a governess. The school year is almost over, luv, but some parents like their kids to continue with their lessons right through. Gives ‘em a bit of an edge when they go away to boarding school. Reckon some governesses might be leavin’ and not comin’ back. Yah never know.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Deidre,’ Marissa said, marvelling at meeting such a helpful woman. ‘Would there be room for us at the pub?’

Deidre gave another one of her rich belly laughs. ‘I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, luv, but it’s the off season,’ she joked. ‘Pop down and settle yah selves in. Me brother Denny owns it. He’s a bit deaf, but he’ll hear yah if yah lucky or Marj might be around. Marj is his wife. Tell ‘em I sent yah. By the way I’ve got some tucker for yah dog. Best dog in the world, the Queensland Blue Heeler,’ she reiterated. ‘Mind you some of ‘em have a bad habit of nippin’ at yah heels. Hang on a minute and I’ll get a doggy bag.’

‘How much do I owe you, Deidre?’ Marissa called as the woman disappeared into the kitchen. So far Deidre hadn’t presented her with a bill.

‘Nuthin’, luv,’ Deidre responded when she returned. ‘It’s on me. I can see the situation is pretty grim for you and the lad.’

‘Truly it hasn’t come to that, Deidre,’ Marissa protested, more than ready to pay and producing her wallet.

‘I notice these things,’ Deidre said, waving the wallet away. ‘You can pay me when you land a job.’

It was the start of a long-standing friendship that began that very day.

CHAPTER TWO

HOW different everything looked after a good night’s sleep. Marissa stretched like a cat in the ray of golden light that fell through the upper-storey window.

I’ve a good feeling about this place, she thought. Maybe Destiny has drawn us here. Destiny had played the leading role in her life. She slid out of bed and padded across the polished floor to the open doorway of the adjoining room so she could peek in on Riley. He was still fast asleep, looking positively angelic. In a minute or so she would head down the narrow corridor to the bathroom to take a shower. Like Deidre’s café, the pub was spotlessly clean, but the rooms were very basic, fitted with a single bed—no doubles, no couples?—a wooden chair, a wardrobe and a small chest of drawers with a mirror above it. Neat lace curtains hung at the windows. There was a modest rug on the timber floor and centred above the bed, a touch of atmosphere in the form of a framed print of a caravan of camels crossing a fiery-red sand dune.

Denny and Marj, the publicans, a well-matched couple—he was deaf, she had a voice to round up cattle—acted like they had known them for ever. It had been arranged she and Riley would breakfast at Deidre’s place, obviously the hub of the town. ‘We’ll be comin’ towards the end of the rush hour then, luv!’ Marj had informed them, so she had better get a move on.

* * *

Deidre, her hands working on another clean apron, saw them seated and without asking what they would like hurried back to her kitchen.

‘I suppose it’s going to be another hamburger then?’ Riley commented hopefully, looking around at the other banquettes and tables. They were nearly all filled, mostly with station hands, truck drivers or travellers passing through.

‘I hope not,’ Marissa said, trying to act unaffected by so many male eyes on her.

‘Deidre is a really nice person, isn’t she?’ Riley said. ‘I’m sure she’ll find you a job.’

‘And she won’t let the fact all the jobs are taken deter her.’ Marissa smiled. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Starving. And thirsty,’ Riley said. ‘This is such an adventure! Good thing Dusty likes Marj. Last time I saw him he was following her around.’

‘Just so long as he doesn’t nip her.’ Marissa made a little snapping movement with her fingers.

‘He wouldn’t be game.’ Riley giggled.

‘That’s what makes him such an intelligent dog.’

Breakfast was peach and mango juice followed by a small bowl of crunchy muesli with milk and a banana, and to top it off warmed pita bread stuffed with bacon and a poached egg. All in all a very substantial breakfast guaranteed to provide them with plenty of energy.

That’s if I can get up off the chair, Marissa thought, not used to eating so much. Once again Deidre refused to take payment so Marissa insisted she return when the breakfast session was over to help out in the kitchen. Riley could sit at one of the tables and do his lessons.

‘That’s really nice of yah, luv,’ Deidre said, regarding Marissa with a kindly, approving eye. ‘Meantime why don’t the two of yah take a walk in the park. You won’t see a more beautiful sight than them jacarandas. Wouldn’t have had ‘em only for Holt’s grandma, Mrs McMaster senior. She was the one who had the park set up. Some Pommy landscaper friend of hers planted them. The locals were ignorant of such things but Mrs McMaster is a real lady. Pommy, too, but we never held it against her. She was kinda like a lady General or maybe even Royalty around here. She told us all what to do and we did it. Course the McMasters are Bigtime. They own the town. Know how it came by the name of Ransom?’

‘Please, tell us, Deidre,’ Riley begged.

A male voice in the background yelled. ‘I was wondering if I could get my sausages and eggs, right about now, Dee?’

‘Keep yah shirt on. I’ll be right there,’ Deidre yelled back over her shoulder. ‘I’ll tell yah later, Riley, me boy. I’m fairly certain you don’t know what ransom means, but Mum will tell you.’

Marissa took Riley’s hand leading him out onto the footpath. ‘You’ll have to start calling me Marissa, Riley. People really do think I’m your mother.’

‘Yes, well, remember what I told you? You’re the most wonderful mother in the world.’ He leaned towards her and whispered, ‘My real mummy used to hit me. Once she knocked me really hard in the chest. I think I broke a rib. Daddy was so angry. He called her a poisonous little bitch!’

Marissa closed her eyes. ‘Oh, Riley,’ she moaned. ‘You’ve never told me that before.’

‘I don’t like to tell you anything bad,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It wasn’t long after, Keile ran off.’

Marissa’s face went tight with dismay. ‘You tell me you don’t miss her, but do you, Riley? She’s your mother after all. You must tell me the truth. The truth is important between the two of us.’

‘I don’t want to see her again,’ Riley murmured, hanging his head. ‘And that’s the truth. Nat, one of the guys on the station, called her a ‘bloody hippy’ but Daddy thought Keile had gone off with him. Nat wasn’t around any more. Daddy made a pile of her things and burnt them.’

‘And there were no tears?’ Marissa tilted his chin so she could see his eyes.

‘No.’ Riley shook his head. ‘Daddy found a new place to live. He said he was going to pull himself together. Every day he told me how much he loved me. I never missed Keile. She wouldn’t let me call her Mum. She was an angry person, Ma. If I did anything wrong she flew into a rage. After she hit me I used to curl into a ball and wait for Daddy to come home.’

‘Oh, my God!’ Marissa moaned, anguishing for his troubled past.

‘Daddy said it was all his fault. He used to try so hard not to have a drink. He called it “the horrors.” We were best mates.’

‘I’m sure you were,’ Marissa said, swallowing hard on the lump in her throat. ‘He was a wonderful father to me before my mother died. We both loved her so much. It was the way my mother died in a car accident with Dad driving that started him drinking. He never used to. He was seeking forgetfulness.’

Both of them were so engrossed in their conversation they hadn’t noticed that someone had followed them out of the café, until a man dressed like a station hand, caught up to them as they entered the park.

‘Howdy!’ he called cheerfully, touching a hand to his wide brimmed akubra.

‘Morning,’ Riley piped up, ever ready to be friendly.

‘Mornin’, young ‘un.’ The man’s gaze flicked briefly over the child before returning to Marissa, a certain glint in his eyes; around thirty, muscular, elaborate tattoos over both arms, good-looking in a slightly brutal way, strangely lifeless grey eyes. ‘Out for a stroll with Mum?’

‘My brother,‘ Marissa said, keeping her tone pleasant.

‘Have it your own way.’ He grinned at her, but his expression wasn’t pretty. ‘Mind if I join you?’

Marissa took a calming breath, glad of the fact quite a few townspeople were now out on the street. ‘Riley and I want to spend some private time together if you don’t mind,’ she said, feeling increasingly wary. She didn’t like the look of this man. She especially didn’t like the way the lifeless eyes were jittering over her.

‘Really?’ He mimed a double-take. ‘You’re remarkably well spoken for a little drifter with a kid. Beautiful, too. A raven-haired beauty with violet eyes. A bit like Liz Taylor when she was young. What brings you to Ransom if I may ask? Name’s Wade Pearson by the way.’ He thrust out a callused hand but Marissa unable to mask her distaste moved back, tightly clutching Riley’s shoulder, dismayed to find it was trembling.

‘Oh, dear, oh, dear, not good enough for yah, eh?’ Pearson sneered. ‘Uppity little broad, aren’t yah?’ His eyes continued to run insolently up and down over her body. She was wearing a fresh white shirt with just above the knee length khaki shorts that still managed to showcase her long slender legs.

‘Excuse me, I don’t want trouble.’ Marissa was already turning away, aware his eyes were boring a hole in her back. Where, oh, where was Dusty, guard dog of renown?

Pearson sauntered after her, his grin brazen. ‘And you won’t be getting any if you just relax and act friendly.’ Despite the grin he was injecting a sense of threat into his voice.

‘But I have no interest in getting friendly, Mr Pearson.’ Marissa rounded on him, hoping he couldn’t catch the anxiety coming off her. ‘Please don’t bother us.’

‘Hell, girl, I’m only speakin’ to you,’ he protested, all innocence. ‘Don’t walk off now.’

‘You heard Ma,’ Riley suddenly shouted, his blue eyes glowing hotly. ‘Go away. You don’t want me to whistle up my dog, do you?’

‘You serious, little fella?’ Wade Pearson lowered his eyes to Riley shaking his head in amazement. ‘Take more than you two and your dog to stand up to me. Don’t get scared. All I want is to have a little chat with your ma. I’ve got a coupla ideas I’d like to kick around with her. We don’t see a woman as beautiful as your ma every day.’

Marissa had a sense no one would ever believe she wasn’t Riley’s mother. ‘I told you. Riley is my brother.’

His reaction was a coarse laugh. ‘A likely story! Hell, you must’ve been just a kid when some dude got to yah?’ He moved in closer, lifting his broad shoulders and expanding his chest, obviously believing it had an intimidating effect.

Marissa could see Riley’s lip quivering. That made her stronger. ‘You’re in our way, Mr Pearson. Move!’ she said sharply.

For answer he crossed his arms over his muscular chest. ‘Spunky as hell, aren’t yah? I like that in a woman. Makes me wonder how much you’d fight me?’

Riley put himself between Pearson and his sister. ‘Go away. Ma and I don’t like you.’

Pearson leaned down and pulled Riley’s ear. ‘Well, I happen to like your ma.’ His face was a leering mask. ‘I think you should keep out of this, little fella.’

‘You don’t frighten me,’ Riley said bravely, pushing back against his sister.

‘It’s all right, Riley.’ She calmed him, drawing him closer. Her eyes had locked on to an impressively tall man who had just entered the park. No question about it, he was coming their way. Very purposefully, she thought.

The cavalry had arrived! If so, he was the officer in charge.

Even at a distance he gave the appearance of the sort of man who would command attention anywhere. Dressed much like Pearson, there was a remarkable difference. While Pearson looked rough and ready, this man had perfected the image of the glamorous cattle baron. In all probability he was! The aura he gave off held such authority it had the power to render her instantly calmer.

‘Back up’s on the way!’ She gave Pearson a challenging look.

He wasn’t impressed enough to turn around to check. ‘You can’t trick me.’ He moved closer so she could smell his stale sweat. ‘You don’t want me to hurt the kid, do yah?’

Marissa eyed him with contempt. ‘Try it and you’ll wish you hadn’t!’

‘You’re a creep and a bully!’ Riley shouted, his breath starting to come hard.

‘Looks like your kid needs teachin’ a lesson.’ Pearson grabbed at Riley’s frail arm.

At the same time as Marissa pulled Riley back, a steely voice cracked out, ‘Let the boy go, Pearson!’

Instantly Pearson was thrown into a panic. He dropped Riley’s arm like a shot, whirling about, bravado shaken. ‘Whoa, boss!’ he called. ‘I was just askin’ this young lady if there’s anything I could do to help her.’

Riley found his vocal chords again. ‘Liar!’

Pearson’s boss reached them in a couple of long strides, his mouth held in a tight line. ‘It didn’t look to me like she was interested in your offer. Get out of here. Now. You’ve got five minutes to grab those spare parts from the garage and head back to the station. We’ll talk then.’

‘I swear it was nuthin’, boss.’ Pearson held to the role of injured party. ‘She looked like she needed help.’

‘Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said, go!’ The newcomer stabbed a bronzed finger at Pearson’s chest.

‘Sure, boss.’ Pearson didn’t wait a second longer. ‘See you later, Riley!’ He waved a pseudo-friendly hand.

‘No, you won’t!’ Riley croaked after him, sounding like he was having trouble getting his breath.

‘What was he saying to you?’ The man looked at Marissa, waiting intently on her answer.

Now she got the full force of brilliant dark eyes; so deep they gave her the unnerving sensation of drowning.

First impression.

She must have taken overlong to answer because Riley broke in. ‘He was bothering Ma,’ he said, thinking this was a real man like The Man from Snowy River. He was big, strong, ready to help and the way he talked sounded like his dad. ‘The one time we didn’t have Dusty with us, either,’ he lamented.

‘And Dusty is?’ The taut expression gentled as the man looked down on Riley’s dark curly head. ‘Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Your guard dog?’

‘A good one, a cattle dog.’ Riley gave their rescuer a warm smile. ‘Thank you, mister.’

‘McMaster,’ the man said, little brackets of amusement etched into either side of his handsome mouth. ‘Holt McMaster and you are?’ He transferred his gaze to Marissa, a brow tilted in interrogation.

She cleared her throat. Holt McMaster, who else! Here was a man who was genuinely daunting, but highly unlikely to go bothering women. More like the other way around. ‘Marissa Devlin,’ she said, extending her hand. ‘This is my brother, Riley.’

‘Hi,’ he said, taking a good long look at her but in a totally different way to Pearson. Just as Deidre had said Holt McMaster was a seriously stunning looking man but very much on the stern side, Marissa thought, herself engrossed in staring at him. He had great bone structure—he’d probably still be handsome at ninety—hollowed out cheekbones, fine straight nose, a firm, but definitely sensuous mouth, sculpted chin and jawline. She wasn’t sure if it was she or he, or maybe both of them were the cause of it, but tiny electric sparks were shooting off their momentarily locked hands.

He seemed to wait a few seconds before letting his gaze settle back on Riley. ‘Are you all right, son? Sounds like you’re having a bit of trouble catching your breath.’

‘He has asthma,’ Marissa said worriedly, starting to rummage around in her leather shoulder bag. ‘He’s been fine but your station hand gave us a fright.’

‘A big mistake,’ McMaster responded tersely. ‘You need to keep calm, Riley.’ He put a hand on Riley’s shoulder. ‘Think you can do that?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Riley rasped.

‘You’ve got the puffer?’ Those fathomless eyes rested on Marissa again.

‘Right here.’ Marissa put the puffer into Riley’s hand.

Both adults stood watching while the little boy inhaled. ‘Good man,’ McMaster praised him. ‘You’ll be fine now.’ He gave Riley a nod of approval. ‘What are you doing all the way out here?’ he questioned Marissa. There was close enough to a frown on his striking face.

She felt herself blush. It was unnerving being the focus of that brilliant gaze. ‘I’m looking for a job.’

‘What sort of job?’ he asked crisply.

She had a strong sense he didn’t approve of her being out here; on the road with an asthmatic child. ‘I’m a trained schoolteacher. I have excellent references. I was hoping to get work as a governess on one of the stations.’

‘Do you want a governess, Mr McMaster?’ Riley piped up, with touching hope.

McMaster suddenly smiled and his whole face changed. Marissa watched in fascination as the dark severity was totally wiped away. Light radiated off him like an actual aura. ‘I hadn’t been planning on hiring one, Riley. At least not at this time.’

‘Perhaps you might know someone, some other station owner who needs a governess for their children, Mr McMaster?’ Marissa asked, doing her level best to mask her awe of this man. But it was there, and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

He seemed preoccupied for a moment. ‘Why don’t we all sit down and get something to drink,’ he suggested. ‘I could do with a coffee.’

‘What about Deidre’s?’ A smile curled Riley’s naturally rosy lips. ‘She makes very good coffee. And hamburgers. She makes everything!’

‘You know, you’re absolutely right. Deidre’s it is!’ McMaster extended an arm to indicate they should all go across the street to the café.

Hope soared! Instinct told Marissa he was at least considering her situation. If so, it would be another case of Destiny at work.

‘Well, look who just walked in!’ Deidre greeted McMaster with the greatest good humour. ‘Hiya, Holt! It’s good to see yah!’

‘Good to see you, Dee,’ Holt McMaster responded, bestowing on her that transforming smile. ‘I could do with a strong black coffee.’ He paused a moment, turning to Marissa and Riley, waiting on their order. ‘And?’

‘We’ve just had a really good breakfast, but I won’t say no to a cappuccino,’ Marissa said. ‘What about you, Riley? Are you feeling better?’

‘He’s fine,’ McMaster said. It was almost a ‘don’t fuss!’ ‘What’s it to be, Riley?’

‘I don’t think I could fit in another thing,’ Riley said, his breathing mercifully restored to normal.

‘What about you come out to the kitchen and help me?’ Deidre suggested. ‘Let your Ma talk to Mr McMaster.’

Marissa fought to keep her composure. How was she ever going to be able to counteract this? There was that Ma again!

Deidre put out her hand and Riley took it, going willingly. ‘What about Dusty?’ he asked. ‘I should go check on him. He’ll be missing me.’

‘Don’t you go worrying about Dusty,’ Deidre said. ‘Marj is lookin’ after ‘im. Marj likes dogs. She’s had plenty in her time, all cattle dogs or kelpies. Now I had a kelpie one time, called Shorty….’

‘Riley is my brother by the way,’ Marissa repeated a few minutes later when they were seated in the same banquette as she and Riley had occupied for breakfast. Deidre had already set their steaming coffee and a plate of freshly baked pastries in front of them. ‘Half brother, actually.’

‘And where are your parents?’ he asked, lifting the cup to his mouth.

His scepticism was painfully obvious. ‘Dead,’ she said. She wasn’t all that good at hiding her grief, so she masked it with a show of long acceptance.

‘They must have died very young?’ His gaze pinned her like a laser.

She had to be careful here. ‘Yes,’ she replied briefly.

‘Okay.’ Clearly he thought she was running away from something. ‘So where do you come from? Married, engaged, any involvement?’

She looked out the window at the blossoming jacarandas, realising she was shaking a little inside. ‘I was born and reared in Brisbane.’

‘Surely Riley was, too?’ he asked in a dry, almost mocking voice.

She felt very much on edge yet strangely more vividly aware than she had ever been in her life. ‘Of course.’ She wasn’t about to discuss hers and Riley’s dysfunctional childhoods. ‘I’m not involved with anyone except Riley. He’s quite enough. He’s asthmatic as you’ve seen. The dry air out here is supposed to be beneficial to asthmatics.’

He had removed his akubra when they came in the door, so now she had learned he had a fine head of hair, black and shiny as a crow’s wing. It was brushed straight back from a distinctive widow’s peak that lent a surprising rakishness to balance out the severity. She started to panic thinking perhaps she was giving him too much attention.

He didn’t appear to notice, so she relaxed a little. ‘I’ve seen cases of a complete cure,’ he was saying. ‘I don’t know, but it seems to me Riley’s condition has an emotional component. He’s a fine-looking boy, but he’s on the frail side.’

It was perfectly true. Even so, her blue eyes flashed. ‘I’m hoping to change that. I’ve had him with me since our father died but it wasn’t working out. I taught at a private girl’s school. I often had early and after-school commitments. It was difficult with Riley, difficult to find minders. Then there was his asthma. People don’t like the responsibility.’

‘One can understand that. So you decided to come a thousand miles West to see if you could find a job as a governess on a station?’

‘That was the general idea,’ she said wryly. Did he have to make it sound as though she had applied for two seats on a space shuttle?

‘But surely being a schoolteacher, Ms Devlin, you know hiring is unlikely in vacation time? It’s almost that.’

She had been shooting glances at him, now she actually allowed her eyes to rest openly on his face; at his remarkable eyes, at his mouth, at his nose and sculpted chin. It was an exciting face, if a bit on the imperious side. He looked what he was, a powerful man. She judged him around thirty-two—thirty-four? ‘I’d heard station folk like their children tutored vacations or not,’ she said, trying to make it sound like she was one jump ahead. ‘It really does pay to be ahead of the curriculum, especially when it’s time to go off to boarding school.’

‘Come on, you took a big risk.’ He cut through to the truth.

She shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I had to do it. Can you help me?’

His face assumed a considering expression. ‘How old is Riley?’ he asked. ‘Seven? He seems very intelligent for his age.’

‘He is,’ she said, showing her pride. ‘My father …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Yours and Riley’s father, yes?’ he prompted, giving her another one of his assessing looks.

‘I find it pretty upsetting to talk about—our father,’ she said. His eyes had such a piercing brilliance she felt they sliced through all her defensive layers.

‘I don’t know your surname, Marissa.’

‘It’s Devlin. I thought I told you.’

‘So you did.’ There was a lick of mockery in his voice.

‘Were you trying to catch me out at something?’ she challenged.

‘Like what?’

‘Oh, the name of Riley’s real father,’ she said, a little bitterly. ‘I repeat. Riley is my half brother.’

‘You’re remarkably alike.’

‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

‘May I ask how old you are?’ His gaze was very straight.

‘Would you believe twenty-eight?’ She felt very tightly wound. He was having that effect on her. Worse, he knew it.

‘No, I wouldn’t.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t look like you’re all that long out of high school.’

‘University,’ she corrected. ‘I have a B.A. and Bachelor of Education. I taught at Saint Catherine’s College for Girls in Brisbane, grades 10 and 12. Easily checked out. Besides I have on my person at least in my bag a glowing reference from the Headmistress, Dr Eleanor Bell, a leading educationalist. Do you want to see it?’

‘Why not?’ He held out his hand, a very elegantly formed hand, darkly tanned, lean and strong, able to transmit electric charges at will.

She reached into her satchel bag and produced the reference from a zipped side pocket where she kept papers.

He took it, dark eyes hooded as he scanned the lines. ‘Very impressive,’ he said finally. He had the sort of voice that captivated the ear; dark, resonant, classy accent, no western drawl. ‘I do hope you didn’t write it yourself?’

‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’ She didn’t try to hide her little flash of hostility.

He looked deep into her blue eyes. ‘Women lie about all sorts of things.’

‘People lie.’ His corresponding flash of antagonism registered. It would do no good at all to offend him. ‘I was a good teacher,’ she said, more respectfully. ‘I’m teaching Riley as we go. I think I’m safe in saying his general knowledge for his age is remarkable. My father.’ Once again she faltered.

‘Why is it you begin and can’t go on?’

‘Pain,’ she shot back, still not able to fully control the flare of hostility, that alarmingly had a sexual component. ‘Pain can annihilate. It can come at you right out of the blue. It can hit you with such force—’ She broke off. ‘Do you know anything about that?’

‘None that I’m going to talk about,’ he answered, his voice clipped.

‘Then you’re like me.’ She glanced out of the window at the broad sun baked street.

Instead of answering, he asked another question. ‘So you’re twenty … three?’

‘Yes.’ She was so busy trying to absorb all her impressions of him, she hadn’t considered what impression she was making.

An irresistible lure, had been Holt’s first thought. A lone young woman Outback with a small child, her looks quite enchanting; soft, tender, very refined. She was hopelessly out of place. She looked like the heroine of some romantic novel, undeniably a beauty and he enjoyed beauty. Her tumble of silky blue-black curls pleased him, the vivid, black lashed blue eyes, the flawless complexion that would need a good deal of protection from the sun. Her aura had a special innocence that stirred unfamiliar feelings, vaguely tender. At the same time she was powerfully, effortlessly, seductive but seemingly unaware of it.

Though she couldn’t be, he thought cynically. The birth of a child hadn’t changed her body. Taller than average and very slender, it had a virginal look to it. But then he had heard the boy call her Ma. He had seen the way the boy looked up at her. Then there was the big age difference. Either Riley was an afterthought or Ms Marissa Devlin’s teenage mistake. Either way she had had a hard time. But she and the boy had a valiant look. He liked that. That lecher, Pearson, had been about to add to her traumas, only he had happened along. Pearson was a good stockman but he would have to go if he ever again stepped out of line.

Marissa, for her part, had never experienced anything like his scrutiny. With his eyes on her, it was akin to losing herself. Something not easy to cope with. ‘I’ll be twenty-four next April,’ she said crisply, in an effort to sound more professional. ‘Do you think you can help me, Mr McMaster?’ There was a glimmer of desperation in her eyes.

‘Maybe,’ he replied. ‘I have a child.’ His voice didn’t soften.

Wasn’t that a bit odd?

‘Her name is Georgia. She’s six going on sixty, an old soul. Her previous governesses, two in quick succession, weren’t a big success. I had to terminate their services. At the moment her aunt is supervising her lessons, but her aunt’s home is in Sydney. She’ll want to be moving on. I’m divorced by the way.’ He spoke as if his memory of his marriage was pretty hazy.

Marissa, of course, knew about the divorce, but she wasn’t fool enough to mention she and Deidre had had a fairly in-depth conversation about him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. In fact she was very sorry for six-going-on-sixty-year-old Georgia, the biggest victim.

‘Don’t be,’ he said briefly, the severity back in place. Where his deepest feelings lay she certainly wouldn’t be invited to go.

Then she made one big mistake. ‘How did you get custody of Georgia?’ she questioned, then lifted a hand to her mouth. How had she asked him that?

‘Simple,’ he responded, his smile taut. ‘Georgia’s mother didn’t want her. Mothering wasn’t on her agenda so she moved on.’

It was her opportunity to say Riley’s mother didn’t want him, either, but she let the moment slip by. The past was a sleeping dragon. ‘Poor little Georgia!’ she breathed, wondering what else could have gone wrong with the marriage. This wasn’t a man who would take failure lightly.

‘I’ve been wrong about a lot of things in my life,’ he surprised her by saying. ‘I thought mothers were programmed by nature to love and nurture their children, like some deep primal force. My ex-wife has no feeling at all for her daughter. They simply didn’t bond, as the saying goes.’

‘Such things happen,’ Marissa murmured, critical of his use of her instead of our daughter. ‘Perhaps it was postnatal depression?’ she suggested. ‘The syndrome is well documented. It must be hell to be at the mercy of one’s hormones.’

‘I thought so, too, only the condition is supposed to clear up in time. I try to give Georgia the best life I can. Her aunt Lois, my ex-wife’s sister, is fond of her. She visits often.’

I bet! Marissa thought. She was ashamed of such a thought in the next second. Probably the unsatisfactory governesses had fallen in love with him, as well. He was very sexy. She had to concede that. The dominating, sweep-you-off-your-feet lover of an overly romantic bodice ripper. She, however, would require tenderness, sensitivity, compassion in a lover. She hadn’t met a man with all of those qualities yet. That would bring a nice change to her life. She thought Holt McMaster very tough indeed. Tough, self-contained, utterly self-assured, an intensely masculine man. Getting involved with a man like that could leave a woman emotionally scarred.

Not a lot one could do about attraction, however, she thought. Attraction was something else again; something one had no control over. It transcended common sense. She had to give him full marks for coming very swiftly to her aid and miracle of miracles he appeared to be considering giving her a job, or at least a trial.

She waited nervously on his decision. If he said, no, a few tears might just roll down her cheeks. It took a lot of strength and a lot of character to be a good mother. God, she was even thinking the same as everyone else. A good sister.

‘Okay, Marissa.’ He gave her a sardonic smile. ‘I’m willing to give you a trial run which may or may not work out, quite apart from the fact Georgy is the quintessential little terror. I have to be up-front about that. From time to time you’ll be required to read to my grandmother whose eyesight isn’t good anymore. Perhaps keep her company when she requires it. She’s an extraordinary woman so you won’t find it a chore. The children, Georgia and Riley can study together. The long summer vacation is coming up, but you have a point about their keeping ahead. Whether this works isn’t up to you entirely as I’ve said. Georgia isn’t an easy child, but she is smart. She’s given to spectacular tantrums when I’m not around and I’m not around a lot.

Making sure Wungalla and the outstations operate successfully keeps me busy. It’s a dawn to dusk job. Add to that I have other business interests that require I spend a fair bit of time away from home. You won’t be required to do any domestic work. We have a housekeeper, Olly, short for Olive, who has been with us for thirty years and deserves an Order of Australia. Olly manages the household staff, part aboriginal girls who enjoy working at the Big House, which is what they call the homestead. How does that sound?’ He sat back regarding her sardonically.

‘It sounds like the miraculous answer to my prayers.’

‘Don’t think about it like that.’

It sounded like a warning. ‘May I ask how much you’re thinking of paying me?’ She tried to appear composed and business like.

He sat back, considering. ‘You can hardly expect pay until we get to know you.’

He liked doing this. ‘You’re joking, of course.’

‘Of course.’ He nodded. ‘I was hoping you might smile. I’m not quite the ogre you think I am, Ms Devlin.’

Her heart started to beat so fast she might have run up ten flights of stairs. ‘I think no such thing.’

‘That’s good, because you’ve been looking at me very critically.’

Oh, my God, he’d noticed! ‘I certainly wasn’t conscious of it,’ she said, dismayed that it came out quite haughtily.

‘That makes it all the more noteworthy,’ he said. ‘But I suppose we should get back to talking business. Full board, of course. What did you make at your girls’ school?’

Marissa told him with faint trepidation. She had been well paid. Far above anything she expected as a governess.

Yet he confounded her. ‘You couldn’t have been too comfortably off on that, you and the boy?’

‘It’s good money actually,’ she said, taken aback. ‘You’re a rich man!’

‘So?’ He stared straight into her eyes.

She could feel herself flushing. ‘I have a little money left from a family trust. It’s very important Riley receives a good education. It’s my intention to send him to boarding school when he turns ten.’

‘And a very laudable ambition it is, too,’ he said, that maddening glimmer of amusement in his eyes again. ‘There is of course the possibility you might marry money.’

Clearly he was having his idea of fun. ‘Money doesn’t resolve all problems,’ she said in a heartfelt way.

‘I couldn’t agree more. Now what about—?’ He named a sum that was more than fair given that he had offered them full board.

‘I’m happy with that,’ she said, betrayed into giving him his first real smile of the day.

‘Wonderful!’ he feigned a gasp. ‘That smile has taken some time!’ But it was so magical it even squeezed his hard old heart. ‘Now what about that dog of yours, Dusty?’

‘He’s a wonderful dog,’ Marissa said, always ready to sing Dusty’s praises. ‘He’s really looked after us. Could you possibly take Dusty on, too? He’s a working dog. I’m sure you could put him to good use. Riley loves him. So do I. I desperately need this job but I’ll have to turn it down if we can’t bring Dusty.’

He laughed out loud. It was an extraordinarily attractive sound, one that took her unawares. ‘Could you repeat that, Ms Devlin?’

‘I said—’

‘I know what you said. I have to tell you I find it very touching. You’re going to insist I take your dog?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ She nodded, but her expression was tinged with worry.

‘Then aren’t you fortunate you’re talking to a dog lover. Okay, Ms Devlin.’ He put his two hands down on the table, ‘I’m prepared to take you, Riley and your dog, Dusty, on board on the condition I put you and Dusty to work. Riley will have plenty of time to see him.’

So kindness did lie beneath that tough exterior! ‘That’s awfully good of you, Mr McMaster.’

His handsome mouth quirked. ‘Whether I’m being awfully good or not remains to be seen,’ he said, dryly. ‘But I do like to see young people with a special attachment to their dog. People don’t often confuse me, Ms Devlin, but you do.’

‘How could I confuse you?’ She was finding it increasingly difficult to resist the glittering magnetism of his eyes.

‘To start with you’re extremely out of place in the Outback. This really is the sun burnt country. You look like you’d be more at home in dewy Ireland. How are you going to protect that skin?’

‘You mightn’t believe this but I don’t burn and I’m used to very strong sunlight.’ She was surprised her voice sounded so normal when she was fighting an avalanche of sensations; all of them quite inappropriate. ‘Brisbane is sub-tropical. I’ve coped up to date. In fact Riley and I are surprisingly sun proof. Besides, there’s always sun block and a hat.’

‘When you remember to wear it,’ he said, looking pointedly at her bare head.

‘We forgot this morning,’ she explained. ‘When would you want me to start?’ She could scarcely credit their good fortune.

He sat back, wide shoulders squared, looking very much the Outback cattle baron. ‘I suppose today makes sense,’ he said. He was obviously a man long accustomed to making on-the-spot decisions. ‘I’ll take you and the boy in the chopper. My overseer can drive your utility back to the station. That is your bright red ute with the panther displayed so prominently on the side?’ His mouth twitched.

‘Yes.’ She felt defensive, but the ute was hard to miss. ‘I got it for a bargain. The panther was rated a big selling point. How did you know it was our ute anyway?’

He smiled. ‘It’s a long way from anything I’ve seen around here, Ms Schoolteacher.’ He rose to his stunning height, his width of shoulder emphasising the taper to his narrow waist. ‘Could you get yourself together in say an hour?’ He glanced at his watch.

Marissa sprang up with alacrity. ‘No problem!’ Her mood was suddenly euphoric. She had a job. She would have Riley with her. Dusty would be looked after.

‘Dusty will go back in the ute, so I’ll need the keys.’ His voice brooked no argument. ‘It’s just not possible to take him on the chopper.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ Marissa nodded her acceptance. ‘I’ll explain the circumstances to him.’

He looked down on her as though what she said was preposterous. ‘You’re joking, right?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I mean it. Dusty understands perfectly well what I’m saying. Besides I don’t want him nipping your driver.’

That laugh again! ‘Highly improbable, Ms Devlin. Bart is in no danger whatever of getting nipped by the likes of your guard dog. Besides, cattle dogs have an inbuilt instinct for knowing who’s a friend and who isn’t.’

‘That’s all to the good,’ Marissa answered soberly. ‘Because none of us can get by without friends.’

‘Let’s hold on to that thought, Ms Devlin,’ he said dryly.

CHAPTER THREE

RILEY was thrilled out of his mind by the ride in the chopper. It was all so exciting! Marissa found it just as thrilling—her first time in a chopper, as well—but she managed to keep her youthful excitement under wraps. It would have taken them probably a gruelling hot and sweaty two hours to get to the station in the ute. By helicopter, they were over Wungalla, a staggeringly vast cattle station, verging into the Simpson desert, far too quickly.

A giant silver hangar was coming up. Erected on the outskirts of the huge station complex it comprised so many outbuildings to Marissa’s fascinated eyes it looked like a world to itself. The station name and logo were emblazoned in royal blue, yellow and white on the silver roof of the hangar that looked like it could comfortably house a couple of Boeing Airbuses. Another yellow chopper, similar to the one they were in, sat squat as a duck a short distance away from the hangar, several trucks and a couple of Jeeps parked nearby.

She fully expected Holt McMaster would land the chopper on the runway, instead they kept whirring on until they were right over what was obviously the home compound, a startlingly green oasis dotted with lovely shady trees and garden beds of various shapes. It came as an enormous surprise, set down as it was in the middle of a seemingly infinite desert. She had already learned the station’s longest boundary stretched for more than a hundred miles. Even walking from the airstrip to the homestead would be unthinkable.

During the flight her attention had been captured by the chains of billabongs, lagoons and water channels that crisscrossed the station like life giving veins. Impossible to believe those same sluggish waterways could rise tens of feet overnight spreading as much as fifty miles wide. This was drought country. No way of telling when the rains would come. The biggest hope lay in the overflow from the floodwaters in the monsoonal North carried down by the great western river system. Sometimes, if only rarely, the floodwaters reached Lake Eyre usually covered by a salt crust some fifteen feet deep.

The whole region was amazing. Vaulted blue skies, furnace-red earth, and in high contrast, the ghost gums—some said the most beautiful gums of all—their trunks a dazzling white against the fiery soil. It was a lonely, dramatic landscape, seemingly without borders. The authentic Australia, she supposed, its mystique celebrated in folk songs and poetry. It was amazingly easy to give herself over to it. This was a great adventure, as well as a job. She could hardly believe she had taken a few giant steps into the future.

They were standing in the driveway facing Wungalla homestead. Holt was giving instructions to a well-weathered individual who was dressed like a gardener, although a single gardener wouldn’t be able to handle the workload involved in looking after extensive grounds as big as the botanical gardens, Marissa thought.

‘Gosh, are we going to live here?’ Riley’s face was a study in amazement bordering on awe. ‘It must be a castle!’ he gasped.

‘It’s certainly very grand.’ Marissa lightly shook his trusting little hand.

Wungalla homestead, begun in the 1860s and added to over the years, gave an immediate impression of colonial splendour. Lord knows how much it would cost to build today, Marissa thought. Her early childhood home, architect designed had been among the best of contemporary homes, Uncle Bryan’s not quite so impressive, but this was Riley’s closest encounter with grandness.

Wungalla’s two-storey central section, the original homestead, was Georgian in style, flanked by long equally balanced one-storey wings, added at a later date. A broad verandah surrounded the house on three sides. Four pairs of shuttered French doors were ranged along the verandah to either side of the front door which lay wide-open. Incredibly a deep border of flourishing yellow roses ran to either side of the short flight of stone steps, not wilting but glowing in the shimmering heat.

Marissa like Riley stood transfixed, full of wonder and disbelief.

‘Gee, I hope they like us!’ Riley whispered.

‘What’s not to like?’ Marissa joked, in reality just as nervous as Riley. Holt McMaster had already warned her this wasn’t going to be easy.

‘Right, we’ll go in.’ Moving briskly, he joined them. ‘Hal will bring your things in and deliver them to your rooms. Though I have to say it doesn’t look like you intend to stay more than a day or two.’

Marissa flushed. ‘I couldn’t bring too much in the ute,’ she said. ‘If I was lucky enough to land a job I fully intended having the rest of our things sent out.’

Those black eyes mocked her gently. ‘My dear Ms Devlin, not only could that prove to be interminable, it could blow your nest egg. Some time next week I’ll fly you in to Coorabri. It’s much bigger than Ransom, and it does have a surprisingly good clothing store. Western clothing, that is.’

‘And what do I do for money?’ Marissa quipped, intending it only as a rhetorical question.

‘Charge it up to the station,’ he said promptly. ‘It so happens we have a pretty good clothing store here but it doesn’t cater to little boys and slips of girls.’

She wasn’t a slip of a girl. She was a professional woman. ‘Are we expected?’ She lifted serious eyes.

‘You mustn’t worry about that!’

‘Then we’re not expected?’

‘Don’t take it to heart, Ms Devlin. I wanted you to be a big surprise.’ He glanced down at Riley, directly addressing him ‘Go forth and conquer, Riley!’

Riley who had been smiling, suddenly looked shaken. ‘That’s what Daddy used to say.’ His voice wobbled. How terrible it was to think his daddy was no longer there for him.

‘And it was good advice! Where is Daddy?’ Holt asked, placing his hand on Riley’s shoulder.

Marissa intervened. ‘I told you. Talking about it only makes Riley very upset.’

Holt shook his head. ‘He’s too young to handle it all on his own. Haven’t you ever heard the truth will set you free?’

‘I’ve told you the truth.’ Colour came to her cheeks, fire to her eyes.

‘Don’t flash those blue eyes at me, Ms Devlin,’ he lightly warned, ‘though I dare say it’s relieving your feelings. Anyway, come on up. Olly is bound to be out in a minute.’

Marissa halted, to ask. ‘What do we call you, Mr McMaster?’

His laugh was short. ‘If you look at me like that, every man in the world might want to be Mr McMaster.’ He tried it out on his tongue. ‘It sounds very proper! Anyway, it’ll do for a start.’ He mussed Riley’s hair. ‘We don’t want to go scaring the locals.’

A woman had come to the front door to greet them, a big welcoming smile on her face. She was in her late fifties, early sixties, Marissa estimated, dressed in a plain blue dress with white cuffs and white collar. As tall and wiry as Deidre was short and stout she had a similar look of laconic good humour.

‘You’ve brought visitors then, Holt?’ she asked, looking at Marissa and Riley with considerable interest. ‘Alike as two peas in a pod.’

He smiled. ‘Isn’t that the truth! I must have brought hundreds of visitors over the years, Olly, but these two are here to earn their keep. I’d like to introduce Marissa and Riley Devlin. Marissa has just signed on as the new governess. She wouldn’t come without Riley and Riley wouldn’t come without Dusty, his faithful Blue Heeler. Riley will be joining Georgia for lessons. Dusty who hasn’t arrived yet—he’s in their ute driven back by Bart—is also in need of a job.’

‘You’re serious, Holt?’ Olly flashed a glance at him, her expression comical.

‘When am I not serious, Olly?’ he appealed to her.

‘When you don’t care to be,’ she said. Evidently she wasn’t in awe of the great man. ‘So, Marissa, Riley …’ She shook hands with each in turn. ‘Welcome to Wungalla. We haven’t had a governess here for a while, but we do need one. Is this your first time out West?’ she asked Marissa, her eyes dwelling rather worriedly on Marissa’s porcelain skin.

‘Yes, and we’re fascinated by what we’ve seen.’ Marissa was enormously relieved Wungalla’s housekeeper was so kind and welcoming. ‘I have good qualifications, Ms …?’

‘Olly will do, love,’ the housekeeper said, sounding very much like Deidre. ‘That’s goes for you, too, young fella. Now come in. I expect you’d like some morning tea, or you could wait for lunch. It’s not long off?’

‘Lunch will be fine, Olly,’ Holt McMaster said, settling the matter. ‘Meanwhile you and Marissa can sort out which rooms they want? Where’s everyone?’

Olly sounded faintly sardonic. ‘Mrs McMaster is in her room. It’s not one of her good days I’m sorry to say. Miss Lois is out riding but should be back soon. Georgy is out in the garden somewhere playing with Zoltan. That’s her imaginary friend.’ She gave Riley a wink.

Riley lifted fascinated eyes. ‘She has an imaginary friend? Isn’t that funny? So did I. His name was Nali. He was a member of the Emu tribe.’

‘So what happened to him?’ Olly asked, seemingly with genuine interest.

Riley shook his head with regret. ‘Nali wanted to stay with me, but the rest of the tribe wanted to go walkabout. He was just a boy like me but his uncle was a tribal elder and a powerful medicine man. Nali had to do what he was told.’

‘I should think so. Disobeying a powerful medicine man isn’t exactly a laughing matter,’ Holt said. ‘We have an ex-kadaicha man on Wungalla, although I don’t believe he’s completely shut up shop. I’ll introduce you one day.’

‘Oh, that would be great!’ Riley regarded Holt McMaster with such a look of approval and respect. Marissa felt a momentary pang of ignoble jealousy. ‘May I go find Georgia, sir?’ he asked.

Marissa shook her head. ‘You’ll meet her soon, Riley.’ She didn’t want to curb his high spirits at the same time she thought they should take time to negotiate their way.

‘Don’t worry about him, he’s fine,’ Holt decided. ‘She’s out in the garden somewhere.’

Riley laughed happily. ‘I really want us to be friends.’

Marissa forced herself to stay quiet. Making friends with a little person given to profligate tantrums might be easier said than done. On the other hand Riley could have a calming effect. His was the sunniest of natures when his short life had been full of troubles.

‘Then off you go.’ Holt McMaster gave him the okay. ‘You’ve got plenty of space to play in. Don’t go outside the compound wall?’

‘Yes, sir!’ Riley called, his small figure already flying down the steps.

‘Right, I’ve got things to do,’ Holt clipped off, ‘but I won’t say no to lunch. Make it 1:00 p.m., Olly. Meanwhile you can get Ms Devlin settled.’

‘No problem,’ Olly answered in the way that made Marissa feel very much at ease. So far so good. She thought she could even get used to Holt McMaster’s sardonic ways. ‘Come on love. Follow me,’ Olly said. ‘Where’s your luggage by the way?’

‘Hal is bringing it in,’ Holt turned back to remark. ‘What there is of it. Marissa believes in travelling light.’

‘Never mind, love,’ Olly said comfortably. ‘There’s a really good store in Coorabri,’ unknowingly echoing her boss’s comment, ‘where you’ll be able to buy a few outfits for yourself and the boy. Beautiful child, I must say.’

Marissa prepared herself for yet another explanation of their relationship. Olly, like most people, probably assumed Riley was hers. ‘He’s as beautiful inside as out,’ she said proudly.

‘Let’s hope some of it brushes off on Georgia,’ Holt McMaster said before taking off down the steps.

He had all the grace of a natural born athlete, Marissa thought, looking after him. It was difficult not to. And something of a dancer thrown in. He was without question the most stunning looking man she had ever seen outside her own beloved father.

When she turned around, Olly’s shrewd blue eyes were studying her. ‘Come along now, love. Let’s get you settled before lunch. You won’t be meeting Mrs McMaster, Holt’s grandmother, today but Georgia’s aunt, Lois Aldridge, as I expect you know, will be back soon for lunch. You ride yourself?’ Olly asked, not sounding terribly hopeful the answer would be in the affirmative.

‘Yes, I do,’ Marissa said, her eyes moving irresistibly all around the spacious entrance hall. The most transcendent feature was a very grand divided staircase with a huge stained-glass panel towering above the landing. The colours in the panel were simply wonderful! Graceful black wrought-iron balustrades encased the mahogany staircase. The floor was a traditional black and white marble. A circular library table stood on a circular Persian rug, centred beneath a huge crystal chandelier. The table displayed to advantage a stunning flower arrangement of masses of yellow roses, pine and dried twisted vines in a large Byzantine-gold container. There were paintings, as well. A console with a tall gilded mirror above it, two matching antique chairs with gilded bronze winged panthers supporting the arms, there just wasn’t time to take everything in. Obviously this was a house of serious collectors.

‘That’s a blessing,’ Olly was saying, sounding relieved. ‘The last lass never could get the hang of it. One simply has to be able to ride on a station. What about young Riley?’

‘He’s a natural,’ Marissa told her.

‘Like mother, like son.’

Marissa had to make the relationship plain. ‘He’s my brother, Olly. Half brother really. He’s my late father’s.’

Olly swung about, clasping her hands together as though in prayer. ‘Then where’s his mother, child?’

‘She’s gone and she won’t be coming back,’ Marissa said, her voice matter-of-fact.

‘Good Lord! This must be very hard for you, Marissa.’ Olly paused, one hand on a newel. ‘You’re what, twenty-two, twenty-three?’

‘Nearly twenty-four. It is hard, but I have a big consolation. I love Riley. He’s my family.’

‘Of course he is, love.’ Without further comment Olly began to mount the staircase, taking the left hand side to the upper gallery also balustraded in the same decorative wrought-iron.

Whether Olly believed her was anyone’s guess. With Riley constantly addressing her as Ma, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be believed. Yet she couldn’t break him of the habit. Having a stable mother figure in his life loomed very large in Riley’s mind.

The long corridors had polished floors with Persian runners absorbing their footsteps. The walls were showcases for portraits of the McMaster ancestors, a handsome, rather arrogant looking lot like the present owner. Splendid looking chairs stood at intervals if one wanted to sit and admire them.

Olly paused as they came towards the end of the atmospheric hallway. ‘The old schoolroom’s in here, love.’ She opened the door, inviting Marissa to enter.

‘This has been here a while,’ Marissa observed, gazing around the large room.

‘Since the house was built.’ Olly nodded. ‘Quite a few little McMasters have studied here. Holt among them. Think you’ll be happy here?’

Marissa smiled. ‘Indeed I will! I’m very grateful for this job, Olly. It means I can have Riley with me I’m happy already!’ The room was a little on the sombre side—nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a touch of colour—but in perfect order. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with books, well thumbed for the most part, some even dog-eared. A large blackboard was set up near the windows. What looked like the original desks and chairs of some dark golden timber stood in neat rows, ten desks in all. Two marvellous globes on stands caught the eye, terrestrial, celestial.

‘Does Georgia do her lessons here?’ Marissa asked. If she did there was no sign of it.

‘Miss Lois prefers to conduct the lessons down in the Garden Room,’ Olly said. Was that the merest trace of disapproval in her voice? ‘If I might divulge a little secret—just between you and me—not many lessons are going on. I best warn you if Holt hasn’t already done so, little Georgy is a bit of a handful.’

Marissa spoke without thinking. ‘I would never have thought so with a father like that?’

‘Meaning?’ Olly’s sparse eyebrows shot up.

‘I can’t imagine anyone with the temerity to step out of line.’

Olly laughed. ‘Holt can cope with anything and does, but Georgy would break anyone’s heart.’

‘She wants her mother.’ Marissa had great sympathy for the motherless little girl.

‘She wants a mother,’ Olly corrected. ‘Tragically her mother didn’t want her. Georgy is only little but she knows this. Abandonment is at the heart of her problems. You’ll be the one to understand.’

‘Oh, I do, Olly.’ Marissa’s blue eyes misted over. ‘I’m hoping the children take to one another.’

‘Don’t expect results right away, love,’ Olly warned. ‘Come on now. I’ll show you your rooms. They’re across the hallway. Riley can have the room next to yours,’ she said. ‘If you like them, I’ll have them aired and the beds made up.’

Both rooms had lovely views of the rear gardens, though she realised all the rooms would have a view and wonder of wonders there was a fenced swimming pool. ‘That’s not a mirage is it?’ Marissa asked, her eyes on the sparkling turquoise water. Swimming would build Riley up and help his condition. She was a good swimmer herself. She had made the University swim team. To the right of the pool was an open sided pool house with an orange terra cotta tiled roof. The stout pillars that supported the roof were wreathed in flowering morning glories. She could see sofas, tables, dining chairs, comfortable chaises. Great!

‘Used all the time, love,’ Olly told her casually. ‘It’s there to be enjoyed. You’ll have plenty of time to yourself. Holt’s father had it built for Holt and the girls.’

Marissa had to confront her lack of inside information. ‘He has sisters? Forgive me, but I only met Mr McMaster today.’

‘Seems he took a great liking to you,’ Olly observed laconically.

‘I wouldn’t say that exactly—’ Marissa shook her head, not believing he had ‘—but he did want to help us.’

‘That’s Holt.’ Olly shrugged. ‘He has two sisters, Alex—Alexandra—three years older married to the Steven Bailey, merchant banker turned politician, some say Prime Minister in waiting, and Francine, two years younger, a dedicated career woman, finance, not as yet married. Holt’s father died in a tragic accident on the property not long after Holt was married. His mother remarried last year. She now lives in Melbourne, but she visits often.

‘Holt’s grandmother, Catherine, has never left Wungalla for any length of time since she came here as a bride. There have been many trips, of course. She has family in England but this is her home. She won’t be parted from Holt or Wungalla. Holt is his mother’s maiden name, by the way. He was christened Douglas Holt McMaster, but the Douglas never took. It was his uncle Carson, his mother’s brother who started calling him Holt. He has the Holt dark eyes and that distinctive widow’s peak. He must have told you he was divorced?’ Olly looked Marissa right in the eye.

‘He mentioned it briefly,’ Marissa said. ‘I can’t believe my good fortune, Olly. These rooms have everything we could possibly want.’

Olly’s expression softened. ‘You don’t have to dash down the hallway to get to the bathroom, either, love. Each bedroom and there are twelve have been fitted with an en suite’ She made a moue with her mouth as she said it. ‘The rooms were big enough to allow for the renovations. If you want to make your surroundings a bit nicer there are things galore out in the storerooms. Such a lot of stuff overflowed from the house. I’m sure Holt won’t mind if you pick out a few things. We aim to keep you happy.’