Welcome to the intensely emotional world of Margaret Way

where rugged, brooding bachelors meet their match in the burning heart of Australia …

Praise for the author:

“Margaret Way delivers … vividly written, dramatic stories.”

—RT Book Reviews

“With climactic scenes, dramatic imagery and bold characters, Margaret Way makes the Outback come alive …”

—RT Book Reviews

Her heart gave a great lunge, its rhythm interrupted. For a moment it was as if the whole world stood still.

“It’s me, Mel. Let me in.”

Shakers and movers would covet such a voice; beguiling and commanding at the same time. No way she could ignore him. No way he would give her the chance. Pulses racing she hit the button to open the security door. She was on the top floor. The lift would deliver him to her in moments. Her feet sprouted wings and she ran down the hallway into the master bedroom. Her hair was wildly tumbled; there was a hectic blush in her olive-skinned cheeks, her eyes seemed more brilliant than usual. She had changed out of her classic designer suit immediately she’d arrived home, pulling a caftan over her head. No time to renew her lipstick. She ran a moist tongue over the full contours of her mouth.

As usual he’d reduced her to a bundle of nerves. You’d think she would be well and truly over that. She, who had gained a reputation for being cool, calm and collected. Only she was hypersensitive to every last little thing about Dev Langdon.

About the Author

MARGARET WAY, a definite Leo, was born and raised in the subtropical River City of Brisbane, capital of the Sunshine State of Queensland, Australia. A Conservatorium-trained pianist, teacher, accompanist and vocal coach, she found her musical career came to an unexpected end when she took up writing—initially as a fun thing to do. She currently lives in a harbourside apartment at beautiful Raby Bay, a thirty-minute drive from the state capital, where she loves dining alfresco on her plant-filled balcony, overlooking a translucent green marina filled with all manner of pleasure craft: from motor cruisers costing millions of dollars, and big, graceful yachts with carved masts standing tall against the cloudless blue sky, to little bay runabouts. No one and nothing is in a mad rush, and she finds the laid-back village atmosphere very conducive to her writing. With well over one hundred books to her credit, she still believes her best is yet to come.

The Cattle King’s Bride
Margaret Way

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

AMELIA’S first call of the day was at 8:00 a.m., just as she was about to leave for work. The ear-splitting din of three phones ringing simultaneously, the main line, the extension and the fax, resounded through the apartment, shattering the morning’s silence. Difficult to continue on one’s way with that call to arms and pressed for time, she decided to ignore the triple summons. It would go to message and she would attend to it when she arrived home.

Her hand on the doorknob, something—call it a premonition—urged her to turn back. She felt in her bones that this wasn’t going to be her usual day. Dropping her expensive handbag, she moved with care onto the white tiles of the kitchen floor—she was wearing stilettos—snatching up the phone.

“Mel here.” Her usual engaging tones emerged a bit on the impatient side.

“Amelia, it’s me,” said the dulcet, slightly accented voice on the other end.

Anxiety settled in. “Mum! Is everything okay?” Cordless phone in hand, she dropped into a chair. The news wouldn’t be good. Her mother wasn’t given to phone calls. Mel was the one who did the calling and the emailing while her mother rang once a month. It was as though she had precious little free time. This early morning call had to be urgent. “It’s Mr Langdon, isn’t it?” Gregory Langdon, legendary cattle baron, was seventy-eight years old. His lifelong vigorous health had been failing rapidly over the past year.

“He’s dying, Amelia.” Sarina made no attempt to hide her powerful grief. “His doctor has given him a week at most. He wants you home.”

Even given that kind of news, Amelia found herself bristling. “Home?” She gave a disbelieving snort, descending to a familiar dark place. “It was never a home, Mum. You were a domestic until Mr Langdon elevated you to housekeeper. I was always the housekeeper’s cheeky kid. I’ve begged you over and over to come live with me, but you’ve chosen your own path.” It was a tremendous hurt. She loved her mother. She earned an excellent salary; she was in a position to make life a whole lot better for them both.

Sarina Norton answered in her near emotionless way. “As I must, Amelia. You must steer your own way in life. You don’t need to be burdened with me. Mr Langdon was very good to us. He gave us shelter after your father was killed.”

No one could deny that. Not even Mel, although over the years their long stay on Kooraki had been the source of endless humiliation, with her mother the butt of scurrilous gossip. Her father, Mike Norton, the station foreman, had been killed in a cattle stampede when she was six. It had been regarded as a huge tragedy by everyone on the station. Mike Norton, the consummate horseman, had been thrown from his horse and trampled before his fellow stockmen were able to bring the bellowing, stampeding mob under control.

Such a terrible way to die. She had suffered nightmares for years and years, often waking with her own screams ringing in her ears. “Was that really so extraordinarily generous for a man of Mr Langdon’s wealth to be good to us? He could have given you, a grieving widow with a small child, enough money to comfortably tide you over, before helping you get back to one of the cities. God knows Mrs Langdon hated us. How did you tolerate that? I never did. Even as a child I used to rage at her. How could I not? The imperious Mistress of Kooraki Station took such pleasure in goading and humiliating you. Mrs Langdon hated us until the day she died.”

“She hated us because Gregory loved us. You were a great favourite of Gregory’s.”

Amelia reacted. “Gregory? What’s happened to the so-respectful Mr Langdon?”

Her mother remained silent. Her mother had long since turned silence into an art form.

Only silence wasn’t Mel’s thing. She liked everything and everyone up front. No secrets, no evasions. She had grown up with them hanging over her like a dark, ominous cloud. “So we’re supposed to owe Gregory love and gratitude forever and ever. Is that it, Mum? That’s ruthless old Cattle King Gregory Langdon getting in touch with his feminine side? He couldn’t control his dreadful Mireille. She must have made him a totally lousy wife.”

“Whatever, he married her. He must have loved her at one time.”

“Reality check here, Mum,” Mel said cynically. “She was the heiress to the Devereaux fortune.”

“And she was the mother of his son and heir,” Sarina retorted with no change of tone. She showed none of the fire of her Italian heritage. “There was no chance of divorce in that family.”

“More’s the pity!” Mel lamented. “Surely divorce has to be preferable to allowing lives to be damaged. Everyone suffered in that family.”

“Divorce wasn’t an option, Amelia,” Sarina, reared a devout Catholic—or so she claimed—repeated. “And, while we’re on the subject, Gregory couldn’t control his wife when he wasn’t there. So I suggest you be fair. Gregory was an important man with huge responsibilities, many commitments. Mrs Langdon may have always wanted us out of the way, but she never got her wish, did she?”

“Now that’s a tricky one, Mum,” Amelia answered grimly. “We both know plenty of people thought, even if they didn’t dare say it to his face, you meant more to him than his own wife.” Why not bring it out into the open? Mel thought defiantly. The gossip that had had to be endured had left its indelible mark on her. So much bad history! Shame had been part of her life on Kooraki. She had grown up doubting herself and her place in the world. Dev had once said during one of their famously heated exchanges that her emotional development had been impeded. Easy for him to talk. He had the Langdon-Devereaux name. What did she have?

She had never been able to ask her mother questions. If someone gave every indication they didn’t want questions raised, you never did. Even a fatherless daughter left in the dark. Yet she loved her mother regardless and had been fiercely protective of her all her life. Sarina, not that far off fifty and looking nowhere near it, was a very beautiful woman. What must she have been like in her twenties?

Pretty much like you.

“We meant more to him, Amelia,” Sarina said. “Mr Langdon loved children. You were so full of life, so intelligent. He liked that. You were never afraid of him.”

“Or of Mireille. I’m the definitive Leo, Mum. Surfeit of pride.”

“I do know that, Amelia. You have to remember it was Langdon money that put you through school, then university.”

“Maybe Gregory felt a tad guilty. Neither of us ever knew what exactly happened the day of the stampede. My father, from all accounts, was an exceptional horseman, an expert cattle handler. Yet he was thrown. For all we know, wicked old Mireille could have paid someone to spook the cattle and target Dad. Ever think of that? She was one ruthless woman. She even went so far as to imply it could have been a David and Bathsheba situation, casting guilt on her own unfaithful husband. She was just so hateful.”

There was another moment of utter silence as if her controlled mother had been caught off guard. “Amelia, I can’t talk about it,” Sarina said in a sealed off voice. “It’s all in the past.”

Mel inhaled a sharp breath. Her mother was in denial about so many things. She had long since faced the fact she only knew the parts of her mother Sarina was prepared to share. “The past is never dead, Mum. It follows us around. I hated taking Langdon charity.”

“You’ve made that perfectly plain, Amelia. But you did take it. Please remember, beggars can’t be choosers. Michael left me with very little. He hadn’t been promoted to foreman long.”

“Plenty of people told me what a great guy Dad was. I do remember him, Mum. I’ll mourn him until the day I die. My dad!” She spoke strongly as though her claim was being contested.

“Do you think I don’t miss him, Amelia?” her mother retorted, curiously dispassionate. “After I lost him I had to face the fact I had few employment skills. More significantly, I had a small child to bring up. I had to take what was offered. I’m glad I did, for all I suffered.”

“For all we suffered, Mum. Don’t leave me out. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been sent away to boarding school.”

“Then please remember it was Mr Langdon who insisted you have a first-class education. You were very bright.”

“I remember the way Dad used to read to me,” Mel said with intense nostalgia. “Thinking back, I realise he was a born scholar in the true sense of the word. He craved knowledge. He was an admirable man.”

“Yes, he was, Amelia,” her mother agreed. “He had great plans for you, but I have to remind you, you wouldn’t be where you are today without Gregory Langdon. Why, you were given access to one of the finest private libraries in the country right here on Kooraki.”

“And wasn’t dear Mireille savage about that?” Amelia did her own bit of reminding. Yet she had to consider the magnanimity of the gesture! A young girl, daughter of a servant, granted access to a magnificent library with wonderful books bound in gold-tooled leather with gilt-edged pages—the great books of the world, tomes on history, literature, poetry, architecture, the arts of the world. It was a library that had come together over generations of book-lovers and collectors. “What a cruel woman she was, poisoning every relationship. She even distanced her own son from his father. No wonder the grandson took off, but he never did say why.”

“Dev, unlike his father, resisted control,” Sarina said. “Gregory was a mountain of a man.”

“That’s not it, Mum,” Mel flatly contradicted. “It was something more. Another unsolved mystery. Dev had to have had some private issue with his grandfather he wasn’t prepared to talk about. Not surprising, really. They were one screwed up family.”

“Too much goes on in your head, Amelia.”

“Maybe, but I spent much of my life walking through a minefield. Right now I’m making a life for myself, Mum. I can’t come—I’m sorry. I have a good job. I want to hold on to it. Mr Langdon may say he wants me, but no way the clan will. Dev mightn’t turn up, either.”

“I think otherwise,” Sarina replied, quite strongly for her. “Ava and her husband are already here. Ava’s marriage wouldn’t appear to be a happy one, though she would never confide in me. Luke Selwyn is charming, but perhaps Ava isn’t the woman he thought she was.”

Mel reacted to the definite note of malice. “Please don’t criticise Ava, Mum. Ava is a gentle, sensitive soul. In her own way she’s had a tough time. Women have always been second-class citizens to Gregory Langdon. Sons matter, grandsons matter. Men are the natural born rulers of the world. If there’s blame to be placed for a marriage breakdown it’s on Luke. The charm—I certainly don’t see it—is superficial at best. He’s a shallow person, full of self-importance. He wasn’t near good enough for Ava. Dev didn’t like him and Dev is a good judge of his fellow man.”

“But Ava would have him,” Sarina said, again without empathy.

“She needed an escape route.” Mel understood Ava’s underlying motivation.

“Be that as it may! Dev has been contacted. He’ll come and he isn’t a forgiving man.”

“Why would he be?” Mel’s heart gave a familiar twist at the very sound of his name. “But it’s his grandfather. They’re family, Mum. I’m not. I have no place there.”

“It was the first thing Dev asked. ‘Is Mel about to obey the summons?’“

“And I can just imagine how he said it! That’s exactly what it is. A summons, never a request.”

Her mother provided an answer of sorts. “Gregory Langdon lived his whole life as the heir to, then the inheritor of a great station. Orders come easily to men like that. They don’t really know anything else. Money. Power. The rich are very different, my dear. Dev is very different.”

“I know that. His world view is simple. Born to rule.”

“You must make the effort, Amelia.” There was a steely note in Sarina’s voice. “Surely you’re due a vacation? It has to be a year since your trip to New York. You and Dev are needed here. There is that bond between you.”

A bond that up until now couldn’t be broken.

Two parts of a whole. Dev had said that. Dev wanted her there.

Jump, Mel, jump!

What Dev wanted, Dev got. He lived in her heart and in her brain. Indeed, he was part of her. She had always loved him. She couldn’t stop loving him, no matter how hard she tried, or the relationships she had tried to make work because she knew at some subterranean level Dev was out of reach. Only his dominance over her was beyond her control. Fate was unavoidable, predestined, she thought. She missed Dev more than anyone could possibly imagine, even if it was she who constantly held out against him and the tantalizing talk of marriage. She was lost in a maze of doubts and misgivings and she couldn’t get out.

She had never told her mother that Dev had been with her on a brief visit to New York. She felt that the older woman would have vented her strong disapproval. Her mother, though ultra-restrained in her manner, had a curiously implacable streak and a blackness of mood that seized her from time to time. Odd that she would disapprove of her and Dev, considering the endless rumours about Sarina and Gregory Langdon.

Her brain churning, Mel hung up at the conclusion of the call. There was no denying Gregory Langdon had shown her affection as a child. Probably the fight in her had intrigued him. Would Gregory Langdon reinstate his splendid grandson? She had the absolute certainty that he would. Underneath the tyrannical hand, Gregory Langdon had been proud of Dev, loving him as he had never loved his own son, Dev’s father, Erik. Besides, Gregory really didn’t have an option. It was an open secret that Erik Langdon would never be up to the job. No way could Erik step into his father’s shoes.

Dev could. She knew it would be wise to stay away from Kooraki for her own peace of mind. Stay away from Dev. Stay away from the on-off passionate love affair neither of them seemed able to resolve. In Mel’s view there were too many powerful forces aligned against it.

Dev—James Devereaux Langdon—in all probability his grandfather’s heir.

Who was she?

That woman’s daughter.

She would never escape the tag.

CHAPTER TWO

GETTING through the day was surprisingly difficult. Even her boss at Greshams, the merchant bank, Andrew Frazier, had asked if she had anything on her mind. Obviously he had noted her abstraction and she owed him an explanation. He was her mentor and a kind of father figure, and she found herself confiding that Gregory Langdon, national icon, was dying. Andy knew all about the Langdons. She didn’t mention she had been summoned to Gregory Langdon’s deathbed. Only Andy, being Andy, asked.

Since she had been recruited straight from university with an Honours degree in Economics, Andrew Frazier had come to learn a lot about what went on under Amelia Norton’s smooth, confident and very hard-working exterior.

“I don’t want to go, Andrew. Nothing good can come from my going back to Kooraki.”

Andrew steepled his fingers, looking across at his protégée. “But Langdon has asked for you and your mother wants you there?”

“Yes,” she admitted wryly.

“Isn’t the grandson the guy you’re in love with?” Andy questioned, concerned about her. Amelia Norton was a very clever young woman, a glowing Italianate beauty, with considerable business skills, but he knew beneath the surface she wasn’t happy or fulfilled.

“I should never have told you that, Andy,” she said, dipping her dark head.

“Just answer the question. This love affair has been on the boil for years!”

The light of irony came into Mel’s beautiful dark eyes. “A bit like Scarlett and Rhett.”

“So what’s the stumbling block?”

“Lots of things, Andrew. I don’t want to get mixed up with the Langdon-Devereaux clan. Most of them are shareholders in Langdon Enterprises. I had to break free of all that. I have to stay free. Peace of mind is very important to me.”

“I think it comes down to your fear of being dominated, Mel. I gather young Langdon is a very forceful guy.”

“It’s in the chromosomes,” Mel said. “Nothing and no one, least of all me, could change that.”

“You have fears he could possibly turn into his grandfather at some later stage of life?”

“Dev is a real piece of work,” Mel said in a low voice. “A force of nature. He’s as tough as they come. He’ll take on anyone, including his own grandfather. No one does that. Absolutely no one.”

“But surely you told me the old man was a virtual tyrant?”

“He was. He dominated Dev’s dad, Erik, completely. With all that money and power, people tend to turn into despots.”

“Are you sure you’re giving your Dev a chance?” Andrew asked, disconcerting her. “I would have thought the last man you’d want would be a wimp.” Such a man would never be able to handle her, Andrew thought to himself. “I thought we’d agreed your upbringing on Kooraki has a lot to do with your mind-set. The late Mrs Langdon being so unkind, your mother made to feel like a servant in the worst Victorian times.”

“How I hated it, Andy!” Mel said, tears actually coming to her eyes. “Hated it,” she repeated.

“Yet Gregory Langdon saw to it you and your mother were protected. You told me yourself he paid for your education.”

“You sound like you think I should go, Andy.” Mel blinked furiously.

“That’s your decision.”

“So many mixed emotions!” Mel sighed. “There are so many cross-currents in that family. It’s like a seething cauldron. Even between Dev and me. The cause, of course, is the collective hostility towards my mother. And me as an extension. Ava, Dev’s sister, is the real princess. She’s lovely.”

“She’ll be there?”

“Of course.” Mel nodded. “Ava loves people, even when they don’t deserve it.”

“You’re due for your annual vacation, aren’t you?” Andrew Frazier saw his protégée was in two minds and needed helping out

“There’s the underwriting of the Saracen deal.”

“Burgess can finish what little there’s left of that. I sense you think you should go, Mel. Your mother’s wish matters. So does Gregory Langdon’s. You owe him that much.”

Mel met her mentor’s shrewd, kindly eyes. “I would have to go tomorrow, Andy. His doctors give him no more than a week.”

“Then get yourself organized, Amelia,” Frazier advised. “If Langdon dies and you aren’t there, I don’t think you will be able to forgive yourself in the future.”

At first she couldn’t believe anyone was buzzing her at ten-thirty at night. She almost didn’t bother going to the intercom. Probably some teenagers having their little bit of fun. It wouldn’t be the first time. Only whoever was pushing the button to her apartment wasn’t going anywhere fast. She had almost finished packing and a couple of items of clothing still lay on her bed. Thrusting her lush fall of hair over her shoulders, she walked down the hall to push a button. Immediately she received a clear video shot of who was standing in the entrance to her eight-unit block.

Her heart gave a great lunge, its rhythm interrupted. For a moment it was as if the whole world stood still.

“It’s me, Mel. Let me in.”

Shakers and movers would covet such a voice, beguiling and commanding at the same time. No way she could ignore him. No way he would give her the chance. Pulses racing, she hit the button to open the security door. She was on the top floor. The lift would deliver him to her in moments. Her feet sprouted wings and she ran down the hallway into the master bedroom. Her hair was wildly tumbled; there was a hectic blush in her olive-skinned cheeks, her eyes seemed more brilliant than usual. She had changed out of her classic Armani suit immediately after she’d arrived home, pulling a Pucci-style kaftan over her head. No time to renew her lipstick. She ran a moist tongue over the full contours of her mouth.

As usual, he’d reduced her to a bundle of nerves. You’d think she would be well and truly over that. She, who had gained a reputation for being cool, calm and collected. Only she was hypersensitive to every last little thing about Dev Langdon. She drew a couple of deep breaths to counteract the onset of nervous tension.

Fine black brows raised superciliously as she opened the door. Dev didn’t hesitate. He moved inside with his familiar athletic grace, dropping an overnight bag to the floor, where it fell with a thud. “Are you going to hug me or what?”

Dev did mockery better than anyone. “Hugs would be only the start.” She shut the door, staring pointedly at the expensive leather bag.

“Have to talk to you, Mel.” He moved into the living room, looking around appreciatively at the lovely, inviting interior. Mel had real style!

“About what?” She reacted sharply.

“Don’t play the fool. You, of all people, it does not suit.”

“So what are you doing here?” The worst of it was he looked marvellous. Tall, rangy, wide shoulders that emphasized the narrow expanse of his waist, lean hips, long legs. A shock of blond, thickly waving hair curled up at the collar of his denim bomber jacket. Jewels for eyes, a dazzling shade of aquamarine that glittered against the dark golden tan of his skin.

Here was a man sexy enough to take any woman by storm. “I’m here to pick you up, dear heart. Your mother contacted me. I’ve got Uncle Noel’s Cessna. We leave first thing in the morning.”

She leant heavily into sarcasm as her form of defence. “Are you proud of the way you give orders?” She ran a backward hand over her tumbled mane.

“Not proud of it at all,” he said wryly. “It’s inherited, I suppose.”

“Not from your father.”

He spun to face her. His chiselled features with his strong cheekbones had grown taut. “Enough about my dad.”

“Let’s move on to my mother,” she countered. There were always shifts and starts, backing off, coming together, combustible electric currents, with her and Dev. Why not? They had serious unresolved issues between them.

“Try to keep focus, Mel,” he said briskly. “My grandfather is dying. He wants to see you and me.” He stood back so he could study her from head to toe. “You look beautiful, Mel,” he said in a dark, caressing voice. “More beautiful every time I lay eyes on you. Which isn’t often of late,” he tacked on in an entirely different tone.

“I thought we’d agreed on time-out?”

He contradicted flatly, “You’re the one who always insists on time-out. Just how much time-out do you want? You’re so into your intensive search for identity, it’s become an obsession. You’d better find yourself soon. Neither of us is getting any younger. Neither of us is able to jettison the other. I know you’ve tried.”

“What about you?” she retorted hotly, falling into the trap. “Isn’t Megan Kennedy still in the picture?” An image of that very glamorous brunette sprang to mind. “It’s certainly a match the clan would approve.”

“Except for a couple of strikes against it. One, I don’t give a damn what the clan thinks. Two, although I like Megan—she’s a fun girl and doesn’t pretend otherwise—no chance I’m in love with her.”

“But shouldn’t we treat love as absolutely foolish, Dev? What’s that saying? ‘There is always some madness in love’?”

“Nietzsche.” Dev came up with the name of the German philosopher. “He went on to say, ‘But there is also always some reason in madness.’“

“Madness either way. Love fades, Dev. Other attributes have to come into play—friendship, shared backgrounds and beliefs, eligibility. Sex isn’t the be-all and end-all.”

Dev gave a sardonic laugh, his dazzling eyes whipping over her face and beautiful body beneath its thin silky covering. “I wouldn’t marry a woman I didn’t want in my bed. My kind of woman would have sole possession of my body, my heart and my soul. The trouble with you, Amelia, is you’re not only at war with me, you’re at war with yourself.”

She didn’t reply. Her anger was warring with a terrible longing.

Dev threw up his elegant hands, callused on the fingertips. “Look, I don’t want to continue along these lines, Mel. I could do with a drink. I need to unravel.”

“What about a power nap, then take off?” she suggested, hardly trusting her own voice. Whatever the friction, there was the never-ending thrill of his presence. “Where are you staying, anyway?’

“Mel, darling, I’m staying right here.”

“Joke?”

“Can’t say I’m full of humour at the moment,” he confessed, stabbing a hand into his thick hair. It was one heck of an asset, that hair, Mel thought, bleached by a hot sun to a lighter gold than the last time she had seen him. “You can put me up, can’t you, Mel? I’m not expecting to share your bed.”

“Smart thinking, Dev. You won’t.” It was her classic defence mechanism.

Only he gave her a devastating grin. “Can’t you say, ‘I’ve missed you’? ‘It’s good to see you, Dev.’ Something with a bit of weight to it?”

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “You’ve taken me by surprise. And at this time of night! You could have rung.”

“And have you hang up? No way! Drink, Mel. Single malt Scotch if you’ve got it.”

She moved away, anxious to break eye contact. “So Noel lent you the Cessna?” Noel was the Devereaux patriarch. Dev, his great-nephew and godson, was the apple of his eye. Noel Devereaux had two daughters, but no son to succeed him. He adored his girls, both married to the right people, but it was a son he had longed for. Now he had Dev, since Dev had packed up and stormed off Kooraki. There was no love lost between Gregory Langdon and Noel Devereaux, both rich, powerful men.

“I do most of the flying these days. Noel is a good guy.”

“It must be a big help having you around the place,” she pointed out dryly. “Word is, you virtually run Westhaven.”

“So?”

“So I thought congratulations might be in order?”

“I’m not an employee, sweetheart.” Dev’s tone was laconic. “I’m family. Uncle Noel actually wants to hand over control.”

“You mean retire?” she asked in genuine surprise.

He shrugged. “Not exactly, but Diane wants to travel. She wants them to spend much more time together—see more of their girls and their grandchildren. The time appears to be right for Noel to hand over the reins.”

“To you, obviously.”

“The girls aren’t interested, neither are the husbands, very successful city men. It’s control, anyway, not ownership.”

She didn’t risk another comment. “Can I get you something else?” He had come a long way. And for her. Though it was as if she had little say in the matter.

“A ham sandwich, maybe? Could I grab a cup of black coffee, as well? You doing okay, Mel?”

“Wonderfully well, thank you, Dev.” She maintained a cool control.

“So look at me. I always know when you’re telling big fat lies.”

“No lie. I’m highly regarded at Greshams.” Mel began to assemble the makings of a ham, cheese and wholegrain mustard sandwich. The coffee would take only a few moments. “I’ll feed you, then I wish you’d find yourself a hotel, Dev.”

He pressed his back into the plush leather sofa with an exaggerated sigh of comfort. “Sorry, Amelia. I’m staying here. I need some sleep. Speaking of sleep, it’s not too late for you to say you’ll sleep with me.”

“Get it straight, Dev. I won’t.” Mel’s answer was remarkably breezy considering how she felt. She walked back, handing him a good measure of Glenfiddich over a few ice cubes.

He raised his remarkable eyes to her. “Many thanks, dear heart.”

Knowing him so well, she observed, “You’re upset.”

He took a long gulp of whisky before replying. “Why wouldn’t I be? I owe him. You owe him. He cared about you. You were such a feisty little kid.”

“So what went wrong, Dev?” she asked with some bitterness.

They were back on well-trodden ground. “We all know that,” Dev gritted out.

“Your grandmother hated my mother and me.”

His expression darkened. “She feared your mother. I’d say she had a certain respect for you, you little terror!”

“Well, she’s gone now and soon your grandfather will join her. They’ll lie together in the family plot, if nothing else. You’re talking about running Westhaven. Surely you’ve considered your grandfather could have planned on handing Langdon Enterprises to you.”

“After our bust-up?” he said, draining the rest of the Scotch. “Many harsh words were spoken.”

“You’ve never told me what it was all about.” She tried to fix his gaze but did not succeed.

How could he? Dev thought, leaning forward to place his crystal tumbler on the table, with its small collection of art books. Mel had more than enough to handle. Better he never told her. It was all so sick and sad.

“Okay, so you won’t!” she said, her nerves frayed. “But, trust me on this, Dev. We both know your father has always found walking in your grandfather’s shadow very heavy going. It’s not in his nature or his area of expertise to step into Gregory’s shoes.”

Dev wasn’t having any of it. “Dad will inherit as a matter of course,” he said as though it were written in stone. “My father is the legitimate heir.”

“Maybe, in the normal way, but your grandfather isn’t going to allow his hard-won empire to fall apart. He needs someone to run it after he’s gone. That someone is you.”

Dev punched one fist into the other. “Dad has worked his butt off.”

“I know.”

Dev loved his mild-mannered father. He had always been very protective of him, even as a child. Erik Langdon was a long way from being incompetent, but it had proved impossible for him to emulate his dynamic father, a man with the Midas touch. Erik lacked the specific qualities it took to be the man at the very top of the chain. He had once gone on record as saying it was like trying to drive a vehicle uphill with the handbrake on. The Can-Do man had skipped a generation. It was Dev who had inherited all the skills necessary to succeed his tycoon grandfather.

“I’m sure your father will be justly rewarded,” she said, as gently as she could, “but your grandfather won’t cede him control. Want to bet I’m right?”

“Darling Mel, you always are,” Dev drawled. “Let’s get off the subject. Life is just one long series of hurdles for us.”

“It happens when one gets caught up with wealthy, dysfunctional families.” Mel matched him for sarcasm. “I’ll get your sandwich. The coffee will only take a moment.”

“You never intended to go, did you?”

She could have shown him her packing. Instead, she said, “I don’t like letting my mother down.”

“You’ve let me down, haven’t you?” he flashed back. “How many times exactly have you told me you loved me?”

She took a deep breath. “I couldn’t begin to count the number, Dev. But we live on two different levels. We have separate lives. You have an escape valve, being who you are. Soon you’ll be the CEO of Langdon Enterprises, with huge responsibilities, always busy, always travelling thither and yon.”

“Gimme a break, Mel!” His voice held a rasp. “You’re a clever woman. You’d fit in supremely well.”

Her laugh was raw. “Not with the clan, I wouldn’t. They do have a hold on you, Dev. A few of them are major shareholders.”

“So what? I can’t solve your problems, Mel. Problems are keeping this God-awful distance between us,” he said with intense frustration. “This damned love torment. The never-ending family stuff is the prime cause of our alienation.”

“It’s your family, Dev. Not mine. Such as it is. We’ve talked and we’ve walked all around our feelings. We’re on a merry-go-round and we can’t jump off. Any thought of marriage has turned into an impossible dream.”

Dev leapt to his feet, his aquamarine eyes blazing with anger and outrage. “You know why? Because you’re always applying the brakes. Think I don’t know you fear being dominated? As though it could happen! What you really want is to bend my will to yours. It’s the war of the sexes, with you the man-hater. You said you wanted to stand on your own two feet. I’ve gone along with that.”

“Standing on my own two feet is central to everything.” Mel tried to defend herself.

“But I applaud it, Mel,” he cried in utter exasperation. “That’s what you can’t seem to grasp. I’m proud of you and how clever you are. You’d be a big asset to Langdon Enterprises, if you ever left Greshams. Anyone would think we were in competition, the way you behave. I don’t understand what it is you want me to be. I can’t grapple with all your expectations of the perfect man. I’m me. Far from perfect. Sometimes I think you’re actually frightened of me. Not in a physical sense. You know I would never hurt you. But you do have this huge problem with male domination.”

God knew it was true. “I grew up with it, didn’t I, this little satellite orbiting a giant tyrannical figure. Your grandfather carried domination to the extreme. Always the iron fist.”

“For goodness’ sake, Mel,” Dev protested, “he was himself. Stronger, cleverer, tougher than anyone else.”

“You might be describing yourself.” Mel shook her head bleakly.

Dev showed his fast-rising temper. “Now you’re making me really angry. What is it you want me to be, Mel? Do you even know? I can’t figure it out and I’ve come at it from every angle. As far as I can see, your biggest problem is you. Your exaggerated need for independence, self-reliance, like you don’t need a man, as though a man could break you. I’m telling you it’s paranoia!”

“Okay, maybe it is!” Pressure was expanding inside her, building up a huge head of steam. There were always bottled-up forces ready to explode when they came together, a consequence of their shared troubled history and her mother’s illicit position in Gregory Langdon’s life. “Let’s stop now, Dev,” she said more quietly. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

He sat down again, bending his blond head almost to his knees. “And I don’t want to argue with you. But you are one strange woman, Mel.”

“I expect I am,” she said in a haunted voice. “You know your place in the world, Dev. All I know is I grew up without a father and a father’s love and wisdom. What I know about my mother wouldn’t fill half a page in a child’s exercise book. She’s the only child of Italian parents, Francis and Adriana Cavallaro, who migrated to Australia and settled in Sydney. It has a large Italian and Italian-descent population. There was no other family. My mother left home, a bit like Ava, to escape her father’s very strict control. I never got to know any of my family. God knows why she decided to shift as far away as North Queensland. That’s a long haul.”

“Do we even know if that’s true?” Dev muttered. “I wouldn’t put it past your mother to have been wearing an impenetrable disguise all these years. When she came to Kooraki no one would have questioned her background. Where she came from would have been considered irrelevant. She was simply Mike Norton’s young wife.”

“Terrible to think my mother’s past could be an invention, a construct of lies. I hate blacked out spaces, secrets.”

“Tell me about it,” Dev said. “Most families have them. You are letting them plague you to death. You have to make a leap of faith. Faith in me. Your mother has her story but it’s obvious she doesn’t want you to know it, even if it would offer you comfort.”

She gave him a despairing look. “Was her home life so bad she simply had to run away? Did she cast off her past like a snake sloughs off its skin? My dad would have known. But he’s not around to tell me,” she said with the deepest regret.

“One day your mother might confide in you, Mel.” Dev tried to offer comfort, but he had no faith whatsoever in Sarina Norton, whom he knew as a devious woman and most likely an accomplished spinner of lies. “She’s a secretive woman without your strengths. But she had no difficulty conning men into thinking they needed to protect her.” He hadn’t intended saying that. It just sprang out. His own view was that men needed protection from Sarina Norton.

“Con? Did you say con?” Mel asked, midway between wrath and shock.

“I did and that’s my theory,” Dev shot back unapologetically.

Mel was severely taken aback. Dev had never spoken harshly of her mother.

“Give it a bit of thought, Mel. Your mother is a born actress. If she’d made it to the big screen she would have won an award.”

“What, playing the role of conning men?”

“I can’t think of anyone better,” Dev said bluntly. “Didn’t you ever watch her with the male staff? In fact any man that moved across her path.”

Mel looked back at him, stunned. “What is this, Dev? Payback time? I didn’t realize you so disliked my mother.”

His expression hardened. “On the subject of your mother it pays to keep my mouth shut. I’ve never been out to hurt you, Mel.”

Disturbing thoughts were sweeping into her mind. “But she thinks the world of you, Dev. How could you attack her, unless she tried to con you?” It didn’t seem possible.

Dev picked a non-existent thread from his shirt. “Cons don’t go down well with me, Mel.”

“What sort of an answer is that?”

“Are we going to have a problem with it?” he asked in a decidedly edgy voice.

Not, she realized, unless she was prepared to launch into an all-out fight. “Did it help or harm her, do you suppose, the fact that she was so beautiful?” Mel asked, always looking for some way to unravel the mystery that was her mother.

“Hell, she still is.” There was a harsh note in Dev’s voice. “Beautiful women have a lot of power. You know that. You have to accept your mother’s nature, Mel. I know you wanted her to come live with you, but the reality was she wanted to stay on Kooraki.”

Mel responded with real grief. “She chose Kooraki over me. She chose your grandfather over me, a man old enough to be her father, but what the hell? He was anything but your average bloke.” With a defeated sigh, she picked up the laden tray. Dev stood up to take it from her, setting it down on the coffee table.

She let him eat in peace. She had poured two coffees. Now she sat opposite him, sipping at hers, the rich aroma tantalizing her nostrils and soothing her.

“That was good!” he exclaimed in satisfaction when he was finished. “I haven’t had anything since around ten this morning.”

“Why is Mum so set on my attending?’

“Why are you so set against it?”

“All your grandfather thinks he has to do is give the order and we all fall into line. Well, most of us do,” she said wryly. “Not you, of course, even when you were told you were being cut out of his will.”

“Big deal!” Dev exclaimed. “I was prepared to risk it. I never felt good about telling my grandfather to go to hell, Mel. It was just something that had to be said. And there’s another thing. Whether he meant it or not, he broke Dad’s spirit.”

“I can’t understand why your father never stood up to him.”

Dev’s brief laugh was without humour. “Not everyone is a born fire-eater, Mel. Besides, he had to contend with a double whammy. Between my grandfather and my grandmother, Dad had a rough ride. My mother tolerated the situation as long as she could before she had to take off. Self-preservation. I used to dream of her coming back. Poor Ava was the worst affected. But at least we see our mother now. The truly amazing thing is they’re still married. Neither of them filed for divorce. Both could have found new partners in record time.”

“I expect your grandfather forbade it.”

“Maybe he did.” Dev shrugged. “He might have stopped Dad, but not Mum. She broke free. My parents should have moved away from Kooraki after they were married. They should have had a home of their own. I remember they were happy once. I believe they still have strong feelings for one another.”

Mel thought so, too. “Will your mother come?”

Dev nodded. “If Gregory dies, there’ll be the funeral.”

“Is Ava happy?” Mel asked. Lovely, graceful Ava, the granddaughter shoved into the background.

Dev gave a brotherly howl of anguish. “We both know Ava chose marriage as a way out. She had no real idea of what she was letting herself in for. She always claims she’s happy, but I don’t accept that. If I ever found out that husband of hers was ill-treating her in any way—not physically. He wouldn’t dare—but trying to browbeat her, he’d better look out. And that’s a promise.”

Mel had no doubts about that. She stood up. “For your information, I did intend to go, Dev. I’m as good as packed. I’ll have to cancel my morning flight.”

“Better do it now,” he said, rising to his feet and carrying the tray back into the kitchen. “I’m not exactly sure where I’m to sleep. Obviously the master bedroom is verboten. No need to lock the door, by the way. I don’t bother women.”

“No. It’s generally the other way around.”

“I’m a man like any other, Mel.” He gave her a sweeping glance out of his aquamarine eyes. “Even for you I can’t swear off sex entirely.” There was a sardonic twist to his handsome mouth.

“No need to tell me,” she said with an acid edge. “Someone always manages to give me the latest gossip. I knew all about your little fling with Megan Kennedy.”

“Megan knew what she was getting into,” he said, unperturbed. “We’re still friends.”

She rounded on him, temper flashing. “Isn’t that lovely!” She hadn’t forgotten how fearfully upset she had been, how hard it had been to hide it. The “Megan” affair had been her worst case of jealousy yet. She had to remind herself she’d had her own little flings that were predestined to fail.

“Might I remind you the pot can’t call the kettle black?” he said suavely. “Now, where do I sleep?”

She waved an imperious arm. “There’s the second bedroom, as you well know. The bed is made up.”

“You only have to call out if you get lonely, Mel.”

“My head only has to touch the pillow and it’s lights out,” she assured him.

CHAPTER THREE

DESPITE her claim, Mel lay awake with the full moon casting its light across her bedroom. Maybe it was the coffee that was keeping her awake? That was the easy answer. The real answer? How could she sleep with Dev just down the hall? She knew what her problem was. She was sexually frustrated, assailed by desires she couldn’t control with him around. She had to ask herself—could there possibly be another man in the world for her but James Devereaux Langdon?

Restlessly, she kicked at the top sheet, freeing her feet. She punched the pillows yet again, then turned on her left side, only she wasn’t comfortable with the steady thud of her heart. Over to the right side, she checked the time. Twelve forty-five. She would be exhausted in the morning if she didn’t succeed in putting Dev and her body’s needs out of her mind. Ten minutes went by. Was there no way out of this? It was as though a tribal sorcerer had put a spell on her. There were one or two old sorcerers left on Kooraki. Magic and ritual with the Aboriginal people would never die out. Only she knew as well as anybody you couldn’t get everything you wanted in this world. She had wanted a career. She had one. She had gained the respect of her peers and notice from the hierarchy. She was earning really good money.

You made a big mistake letting Dev stay.

He knew exactly how to push her buttons.

In the guest bedroom Dev was having an even worse time of it, the area below his navel aflame. He was unbearably aroused. He wanted to get up and go down the hall to her. He gave a short frustrated laugh that he muffled against the pillow. The last thing he should do was put Mel under even more pressure, even if it was killing him keeping his hands off her. Why was it he never had a problem with other women, yet he had one big problem with Mel? He threw the top sheet off, trying to rein in emotions so driving they threatened to sweep away any misgivings. This constant pitch of desire he had for Amelia could be classed as a type of lunacy.

His poor embattled grandmother had tried hard to convince him that Mel could have been Gregory’s daughter. It had upset him enormously at the time, but he had never really believed it. His gut told him not. And his gut was right. It was a pathetic and cruel attempt on his grandmother’s part to separate him from Mel. Yet he had understood his grandmother’s raging jealousy. His grandfather had lost his heart. But not to his lawfully wedded wife. It was there in his grandfather’s eyes every time he looked at Sarina.

He had no idea when that love had been consummated. Perhaps after the tragic death of Mel’s father. Mike Norton had been a leading hand on Maru Downs, a North Queensland station in the Langdon chain. His grandfather’s normal practice was to visit all the stations and the outstations checking on operations. There he had met Sarina, Mike Norton’s beautiful young wife.

His grandfather had offered Mike a job on Kooraki. No question Mike had been foreman material, well up to the job offered, but the intense allure of Norton’s young wife could have been the deciding factor. Was that what had happened? His grandfather had been a man of strong passions. Sexual passion had a way of not allowing its victims to escape.

He should know.

Afterwards, she told herself she didn’t really remember walking down the corridor to Dev’s room. Maybe her mind was playing tricks, surrendering to a dream. It was not as though they didn’t know one another’s body intimately, but the thrill, the rapture, the sense of belonging had never lessened, never lost its power.

Dev heard the door handle turn. He swung onto his back, looking up to see Mel framed in the doorway. There was enough light from the full moon to see her clearly. She was wearing a pale coloured nightgown that shimmered like moonbeams.

He sat up, startled, supporting himself on one elbow. “Are you okay?”

She shook her dark head.

“What is it, Mel?”

She gave a little laugh that sounded like a sob. “I’m never okay. You know that.” She moved across the room, then sat on the side of his bed, staring into his eyes.

“You can’t do this, Mel,” he protested, his whole body powerfully, painfully aroused.

“I want to sleep with you,” she said, dragging the top sheet away from him. It exposed his naked hard-muscled chest with its tracery of golden hair.

His voice held a tense warning. “You get into this bed and we’re going to have sex, Mel,” he said. “You know that. So don’t try the little-sister routine.”

“No, no. I come to you for comfort, like I always used to.” She hesitated for a fraught moment, then said, “How long did we think we might be closely related, Dev?”

He exploded, just as she knew he would. “For half a second! Well, me, anyway. Always the eternal anguish, Mel, the eternal question. You’d go to any lengths to drive me mad. Do you seriously believe I would have ever touched you had I believed it? Are you that crazy?”

She shook her head in shame.

“Am I supposed to give you a round of applause for that?”

“Don’t be like that, Dev,” she begged. “There was so much gossip.”

“Mireille’s poison.” His verdict was harsh. “She had a great talent for implying sinister, cruel lies. Jealousy is one of the most powerful deadly sins. It gets people murdered every day of the week.”

“Poison finds its way into the bloodstream. My mother bewitched him.”

Dev put his two hands to his head, groaning. “Okay, so she did! And hasn’t there been a tremendous emotional fallout?” Angry and immensely frustrated, he put strong hands on her, pulling her down and then into the bed beside him. “Are we going to continue this interminable conversation?” He hooked one strong arm around her. “You, woman, drive me mad. I just want to draw a secure circle around the two of us so no one can get in. God knows we’ve lived our lives with controlling people. Both of us have resented it bitterly. As a consequence, you’re in retreat from me in case I turn into the biggest controller of them all.”

Her laugh was woefully off-key. “Let’s face it, being the man in control is going to be your role, Dev. You’ll find that out when your grandfather’s will is read. Most of the time I was able to separate the truth from the sick rumours. But I was just a little kid, Dev. My father was dead. Mum and I had no protection from that all-important quarter. My father wouldn’t have stood for—”

“I find the whole issue unbearable, Mel. I worry about you. You’re so clever, so seemingly confident, a beautiful woman. Anyone would say you’ve had the lot, yet a crucial part of you remains a lost little girl. Fragile.”

“I am not!” she protested, hitting a hand to his shoulder.

He caught her hand, kissed it. “Most people don’t see it. I do. So my grandfather and your mother loved one another. Is there anything wrong with love? Love might be madness, but it’s glorious, as well. Look at you and me. It takes a real man to put up with you. God knows my granddad didn’t get unconditional love and affection from my grandmother. She was the ultimate possessive woman. It helped to be an heiress in her own right. Gregory was her paid-for possession. She did pump a lot of her own money into Kooraki during the lean times.”

“Then he married her for her money?”

“Maybe he thought she was a lot more docile than she really was. He wouldn’t be the first man to take a wealthy bride. He sure isn’t going to be the last. Countless women marry for money, social position, security. Nothing much has changed from the old-style marriage of convenience. It still goes on. The odd thing is that a lot of the time it works better than the madly in love scenario. Like us.”

Mel didn’t argue. She had observed that among her circle of high-flying friends. “I suppose neither side has high expectations of the other,” she offered in explanation.

“For the life of me, I couldn’t do it,” Dev said. “But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life tippy-toeing around you, Mel. You reckon I’m a tough guy, right?”

“Precisamente,” she said. “You’re already tycoonish.”

“Tycoonish? Is there such a word? If there is, spare me!” he groaned. “A ruthless tycoon could have found a sure way to capture you. I could have made you mine. Made you pregnant. You would have had to marry me and not carry on with all the old-style, hopelessly outdated class distinctions.”

“They’ll never be outdated,” she contradicted flatly. “It’s human nature. God, Dev, I’d love to be pregnant,” she cried. “My biological clock is ticking away. I want children. I love children. I want to hold our baby in my arms.”

“Stop, oh, stop! I have a burning need to clarify this. You want our baby?”

“Of course I do.”

“You mean I don’t need to give up hope?” he shot back with extreme sarcasm.

“You know what they say—hope springs eternal.”

“Quit the smart talk, Mel. I’m in no mood for it. You have a bizarre way of attaining your objectives. But then you probably deal in the larger concepts of life. I’m too busy.”

“I know how hard you work,” she said in a conciliatory tone.

“Can you tell me this? Are you planning on prolonging this sex-starved unmarried state for the foreseeable future?”

“It is exciting,” she said, shivers running down her spine.

“Oh, yes. Unlike you, I don’t consider it to be cool. You’re using your beautiful body as a serious weapon, like right now. No, don’t get angry.” He placed a taut restraining arm across her breasts. “Think about it.”

Mel loved the weight of his arm. She turned her head to stare up at him, the planes and angles of his dynamic face, the high sharp cheekbones, the width between the jaw bones that tapered to a strong chin with its distinctive Langdon cleft. “I can’t think when I’m in bed with you.”

“Who needs you to think?” He withdrew his arm. “It might be a wise move to go back to your own bed, Mel.” He spoke in cool, sarcastic style. “What better thing is there to do in bed but sleep? It’s all down to you. Go on. Get up.”

“If I can.”

“It’s your practice to do what you damned well like. You’re free to walk away, Mel. I could point out there are plenty of women I know who wouldn’t consider it.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said, still not moving. “I’m pretty hotly desired myself.”

“I don’t want to hear about it, thank you,” he said in a flat, hard voice.

“I remember a time when you used to be nicer,” she quavered. She didn’t want to fight. Her need for him was fierce.

“God help me, don’t I regret that now?” Dev suddenly lifted himself on his strong arms to loom over her. “You want me to make love to you, is that it, you crazy woman?”

Wasn’t it her dread that she could drive him away with her fears and phobias? At one time she had seriously considered DNA testing, then backed off in shame. Gregory Langdon couldn’t have been her father, although he had been on the scene. Mike Norton was her father. He had loved her. Could a man love a child he knew wasn’t his? Maybe some men could. The child couldn’t be blamed for the sins of the fathers.

“Well?” Dev growled.

She threw all her chaotic thoughts out of the window. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” she cried. “A thousand times ye—”

He stopped her by lowering his body onto her, covering her, letting her feel his full weight—taut, hard body, the musculature, the rib cage so clearly defined the imprint was left on her body, her flesh satiny-soft and yielding to his potent maleness. His mouth came down near mercilessly on hers. But wasn’t she starved for it, hot and aching with longing? She could never mistake Dev for anyone else, not even in the blackest night with her lack of vision total. Every part of her recognized and accepted him—the scent of him, the magical feel of him, her wild response. Her very flesh lit up in ecstasy for him. So did her heart, flowering in her chest.

Dev kissing her was the most ravishing feeling in the world. It was so intensely erotic, it transformed her not into an acquiescent, trembling creature, but a voluptuous woman. She cried out with pleasure. He was a masterful manipulator, but the mastery was inherent in everything he did. How could she relish the sexual excitement that came with the dominant male, then tell him perversely that she feared domination? She had to be a basket case.

Still kissing her, Dev moved off her, falling back onto his side. “You drive me mad with wanting you,” he rasped. “I should really be thinking about going into therapy if I had the time. I could take up something calming like arts and crafts, maybe wood whittling.”

“I’m sorry, Dev.” She pressed close to his body, sighing and breathing into his ear.

His mouth clamped on hers. “Damn you, Mel.” His hand slid a little roughly down the length of her abundant hair. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

A shiny tear fell onto her cheek. “You.”

“You want me, not us?”

“Just love me, please,” she begged.

“But I want us, Mel! Be warned. There’s a caveat attached to all this. I’m not going to wait for you forever.” He spoke forcefully, even as he was trying to keep the immensity of his desire for her in check. There were still walls to be knocked down with Mel. Even as a child, Mel had felt impelled to rebel against Langdon authority. He knew his grandmother had been hateful to Sarina. Mel, too, but it was Mel’s determined nature that made her fight back.

His great hope was his grandfather’s passing would put an end to the chaos of the past with all its moral dilemmas. Mel’s fears were born out of extremes. He understood her. He loved her. But it was hell. So much time and pain had passed between them. There had to be a resolution.

Her body gave off heat and its own intoxicating fragrance. He could feel the heat off her beautiful breasts and the heat between her legs. He rested his hand there. “Listen, I adore the nightgown, Mel, but it has to come off.”

“Just do it,” she begged, moving her body to make things easier for him.

“That’s an irresistible plea if ever I heard one,” he mocked. “Okay, let’s try it inch by inch.” He drew her nightgown slowly up the length of her legs, past her taut stomach, her narrow waist, letting the silk-satin lie in folds under her breasts. Then he moved down to the bottom of the queen-size bed—too small for a man like him—taking her elegant feet in his hands.

Mel lay back, eyes closed, in a state of surrender. Her short-term forays into other far less troubling relationships had brought home to her she would never be satisfied with any other man but Dev. No one else seemed to know what she wanted. No one else could cause the throbbing in her breasts, the mad flutter like a million butterflies in her stomach, the little electrical charges all over, the tiny, keen knife-like thrusts between her legs. No one else could even bring her to orgasm. She had never been able to fake it. Odd that lack had never been noticed.

Dev was kissing her bare feet. The lick of his tongue and his kisses moved languorously up her trembling, increasingly restless legs. He pressed his lips to her flat stomach, the tip of his tongue tracing the whorls of her navel, then his mouth began its downward trail again to where her body was pulsing white-hot. She could hear his breath deepening and quickening. Her own breath was shortening. With exquisite smoothness, his index finger glided inside her—she was so ready for him. Her heart leapt like a wild bird bouncing off the walls of its cage.

God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

“Please, Dev, come inside me.” She knew she was whimpering. The muscular contractions were growing so strong, she felt she might climax too soon.

“Just you wait a bit longer,” Dev murmured, clearly taunting her. “Punishment isn’t over yet. I want you to come alive for me, no one else.”

Her flesh had melted. Her bones had turned to liquid lava. This was what Dev wanted, as much sensation as possible. “Dev, my heart is ready to explode.” She was feverishly turning her head from side to side. Her long legs had fallen apart of their own accord.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured.

“You devil!”

“Whose fault is that? With you, I have to take my pleasure when I can.”

Moments later, judging it precisely, he removed her nightgown with care, then threw it unerringly towards a chair, where it landed in a silky pool. Her breasts were uncovered to his gaze, her hyper-sensitive coral-pink nipples tightly budded and standing erect.

There was a roaring in Mel’s ears as he took one, then the other, into his mouth.

“Tell me you love me,” he muttered, determined on causing her at least some of the pain she caused him.

She didn’t answer. Her total focus was on wrapping her legs strongly around him, tightening them. She wanted to capture him, not knowing when exactly he had managed it, but he was as naked as her. Their nakedness felt absolutely right. It had from the very first time. Dev was her first lover. He had taken far more than her virginity. He had taken her lifelong allegiance.

“You know I love you.” Her body was breaking out in a fine dew of perspiration, the exquisite agony of want. “You’ve marked me forever.”

“I’d say we marked each other,” he said harshly, not at all satisfied with her answer. “Say it. You-love-me.”

“I-love-you.” She tried to lift her head off the pillow, her voice barely above a ragged whisper. “Oh, please, Dev.” Her body, so long starved of him, was frantic for release. Yet he wanted to circle her like an eagle.

He bent his head to lick away the trail of her hot tears, then descended into kissing her, savouring the lush texture of her lips, tasting the nectar within. Only then did his strong hands move beneath her satiny heart-shaped rear, cupping it, then lifting her body high so its delta was close-up and ready. He wanted to bury himself deep, ever deeper inside her so they fused.

Her little keening cry was the trigger. He came in a flooding roar. She came with him in her own burst of fire.

He wouldn’t have changed places with any other man in the world.

He had waited and waited for Amelia. It had made many aspects of his life excruciatingly difficult. What Mel had to learn now was he would never let go. The waiting was over. He would not stand for interference from anyone. That included Mel. The king was near death. Long live his successor.

Gregory Langdon lay very still in his magnificent brass-studded mahogany bed that had been custom made for him decades before. His skeletal hands rested on the coverlet. The heavy curtains Sarina had almost drawn shut blocked the glare of sunlight from outside. His son, Erik, was downstairs. Ava, Erik’s daughter, his beautiful granddaughter, had arrived with her no-account husband. He guessed the cracks were already appearing in that ill-advised marriage. He and Ava had quarrelled over the young man she had only imagined she loved. On the surface, Luke Selwyn had appeared a suitable suitor for his granddaughter’s hand. His family had money—so he wasn’t a fortune-hunter but over a period of time Selwyn’s less-attractive qualities had begun to surface. He was basically a lightweight, a floater through life, all drive and ambition blunted by wealth.

In the end Gregory had made it very plain that he was violently opposed to the marriage, but gentle, sensitive Ava for once in her life had defied him and ignored the concerns of her brother. Dev had been against the marriage, as well. Dev was devoted to his younger sister and her to him.

He knew the rest of them had arrived—Langdons and a fair sprinkling of Devereaux. They thought the world of Dev, nicknamed after their family. They looked up to Dev and admired him.

Only so far—and he couldn’t hold out much longer—no Dev and no Amelia. He drew a shallow breath, pain sweeping over him in a monstrous wave. He was dying. He accepted it. There was no place else to go. The pain would finally cease. But he couldn’t die before Dev and Amelia arrived. He had resisted another jab of the needle that lessened the agony but befuddled his mind. Even dying, he needed to be in possession of his faculties. The pain didn’t matter. He needed reconciliation even if he didn’t deserve it. Dying was a terrible business. Better to die quickly than have an agonizing end drawn out. He had been such a vigorous man. Splendid health he had taken for granted. But finally the traumas of old age had unleashed themselves upon him. Black oblivion would come as a mercy.

At a slight sound, Gregory Langdon looked towards the bedroom door. Probably the nurse. He didn’t like her one bit. A big, broad-shouldered, no nonsense woman, competent, but distressingly plain. He was used to having beautiful women around the place—Ava, Amelia, and the light of his life, Sarina. There had been no happy start, let alone a happy ending for him and Sarina. That was one miracle he couldn’t command. The timing, right from the beginning, had been all wrong. He and Sarina, a married woman, had been a generation apart, not that it had mattered. Mireille had hated him and hated Sarina to the death. He couldn’t condemn his wife for all her cruelties. He had married Mireille without love, but at his parents’ constant urging. To give Mireille her due, she had genuinely tried to make him a good wife. Only a man should never marry a woman he didn’t want.

He knew which woman he wanted the instant he set eyes on young Sarina Norton, so beautiful she took his breath away. He had never counted on a woman doing that. And Mireille was by no means his first woman. He would carry that vision of Sarina into the next life. If there was one. He wasn’t a religious man. What we had was all we got. Let folk have their faith. It didn’t do any harm. Then again, he could be in for a big surprise two minutes after lift-off. Some leap of faith there!

A woman’s slender form floating towards him in a cloud.

An angel, his dark angel. “Sarina?” he called.

“I’m here, Gregory.” Sarina moved across the carpeted expanse of the huge room to stand beside his bed. She took his emaciated hand in hers. “Are you sure you can stand the pain?” she asked, looking down at the wraith of the once-invincible Gregory Langdon.

Gregory carried her hand shakily to his mouth. “Tell me, Sarina. Are my grandson and Amelia coming?”

“They are, my dear one.” Sarina choked back a sob. “They’re due to fly in at noon.”

“God, haven’t I made a mess of my life?” Gregory groaned. “My son lived in fear of me. News to me, but my grandson accused me of it, anyway. Dev never went in fear of me. Neither did Amelia. Ava was always so quiet and shy. Dev and Amelia were more a pair than Dev and his own sister. Could I have a drop of water, please, Sarina?”

“Of course.” Sarina went to the other side of the bed, pouring a little water into a spouted cup. Fears were rising in her. Gregory could well die before Dev and Amelia arrived. She prayed their flight hadn’t been delayed. Noel Devereaux had allowed Dev the use of his plane to pick Amelia up. That had been a generous gesture. Gregory and Noel Devereaux had shared a complex past. They had never been friends.

Gregory Langdon was able to swallow a few drops of water. A little dribbled down his cleft chin. Sarina picked up a tissue and very gently dabbed at his chin and dry, cracked lips.

Gregory! Her gaze rested on him. She had thought him immortal. She bent to kiss his sunken cheek. She’d had feelings for Michael, the man she had chosen as her rescuer, but they were as nothing compared to the feelings Gregory Langdon had been able to arouse in her just by looking. Many years older, he was nevertheless the man who had taken full possession of her heart. One didn’t choose these things. They just happened. She and Gregory weren’t the first to be taken victims by fate. Then, as Gregory had begun to age, she had found her eyes resting on another. She had been shocked at that point—how bad could things get? She’d been desperate not to register her feelings, her lust, in her eyes. She loved Gregory. But her body had played a bitter trick on her. Her body needed a young man. She had begun to crave Gregory’s grandson. Dev, who was bonded to her own daughter.

It had been hell locked up in close proximity to this extraordinary young man forbidden to her. Sometimes she had tortured herself with the notion that Gregory knew. She had been really frightened after the monumental row Gregory and Dev had. They were always rowing about something or other, but that time it had to have been really serious. Dev had left.

“Sit with me, Sarina,” Gregory was whispering to her, snapping her back to the present. He was clearly in extreme pain.

Sarina drew up a chair. “They’ll be here soon,” she said in a voice of gentle solace. “I hate to see you suffering, Gregory. You don’t want me to call the nurse?”

“No!” The words leapt from his throat, almost as forceful as in the old days. “It’s you I want, Sarina. You opened up a whole new world for me. Life might have been perfect if we had met at another time, but we got it all wrong. I got too old for you, didn’t I, my dark angel?”

She felt a flicker of fear. She was relying on her inheritance to escape. “No, Gregory.”

He ignored that untruth. “I sensed it before it happened,” he rasped. “But it’s all in the past. I was totally out of order when I turned on my grandson. Half off my head with jealousy. That feeling of shame has never gone away. I was jealous, so jealous, even of my own grandson.”

Fear was unfolding rapidly in her chest. “Don’t let’s talk about it now, Gregory,” Sarina begged.

Gregory took a huge, shallow breath. “No. No point. Stay with me, Sarina.”

“You know I will. To the end,” Sarina vowed.

The flight to Kooraki took much longer than expected. Takeoff had been delayed as a backlog of light aircraft was given clearance. A station hand drove them up to the house. Mel felt so sick and nervous she stumbled up the short flight of stone steps that led to the broad veranda.

Dev took hold of her arm, rubbing it gently. “I’m here, Mel.” He looked down at her, his expression grave. “We can handle this together.”

“What if we’re too late, Dev?” She stared up at him, drawing on his strength.

“We did our best. Even my grandfather can’t dictate his time of departure from the planet.”

They had barely reached the entry to the Great Hall with its bold chequerboard marble floor when Sarina came at a rush towards them. Her olive skin was close to marble-white. Tears were pouring down her cheeks, unnoticed and unchecked. The astonishing thing was that she looked furious. “He’s gone!” she cried, wringing her hands and making no attempt to embrace her daughter. “Whatever delayed you?” Her voice resounded in the double-storey space, hoarse with grief and open condemnation.

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