“I love this dress,” Jason murmured.

“I’d love it even better if it was lying on the grass. I can’t go another day, another night without you, Liv. Let me love you, as I want to. Don’t be sad and bitter. I’ve been punished.”

Olivia was very near tears. “What are you saying, Jason? You want us to start over?”

“Yes!” His tone was urgent, heartfelt. “Haven’t we both suffered enough? I want you back, Liv.”

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.

His Heiress Wife
Margaret Way

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

ON THAT hot November afternoon before school broke up for the Christmas vacation Olivia returned to her trendy inner-city apartment to find the red light flashing on her answering machine. She pushed the button leaning casually against the kitchen counter to listen to her messages. While she was waiting she kicked off her shoes, contemplating a swim in the apartment complex’s pool to relax and wind-down. She gave her attention to the mail, sorting through it quickly. She was so looking forward to the long summer break. In many ways it had been an exhausting year. Adolescent girls weren’t the easiest people in the world to deal with. especially the ones who had embarked on sex lives.

There was a postcard from a friend who was always dashing off to exotic parts of the world—this time Peru, hence the picture of the ruins of Machu Picchu; a stack of invitations to Christmas functions and parties, the phone bill—accompanied by a booklet of helpful hints; a letter from a favoured charity that specialized in looking after families in need thanking her for her generous Christmas donation. She was pleased to help in fact she felt duty bound. Her career as a secondary school teacher was flourishing. She had slipped into prestigious Ormiston Girls Grammar three years earlier as though the job had been tailor made for her. She was well paid and she had private means. Why shouldn’t she give something back to the community? She’d sent off cheques to other charities as well.

The first recorded message was from Matt Edwards who she had been seeing quite a bit. Matt wanted to know if she’d fancy a romantic weekend at the glorious beach resort of Noosa on the Sunshine Coast. She’d have to think about that one. She enjoyed Matt’s company. He was an interesting man, but alas not rivetting. Rivetting men were few and far between which was just as well for the protection of women—such men became dangerous in the blink of an eye. Olivia thought it better to settle for quiet, everlasting devotion.

Matt was attractive with a dry sense of humour that appealed to her. He was getting to make quite a name for himself as a corporate lawyer. He’d just bought himself an expensive new car which miracle of miracles he’d allowed her to take for a short drive around the block. One would have to look really hard to find a man who appreciated a woman’s driving skills let alone her intelligence, but then Matt was devoting a lot of his energies to winning Olivia over with a view to getting her to the altar. The sad part was, he wasn’t succeeding. She already knew she would never love him.

She knew all about love—the sort of love that enraptured or ruined. It was Heaven or Hell and there seemed to be no in-between. Attraction was too tame after that. Any day now she would have to tell Matt he was wasting precious time. She just couldn’t commit. Maybe it all stemmed from the fact that once she’d almost been married. Sometimes when she was tired or depressed and slipped unwillingly into memory she thought she might always be on her own. She’d taken scissors to her wedding dress and veil and a week later she’d cut off her long mane. No man would slide his fingers through her hair again.

“Liv, you push the guys away!” That was her friend, Julie talking. Julie tended to nag her. The thing was it wasn’t easy to forget what love was like—even when love was done.

The second message was from the mother of a really problematic kid in her Maths class who’d made flouncing out of lessons an art form. Olivia hadn’t been prepared to tolerate that. A grateful mother thanked her for achieving “wonderful results with Charlotte” the third from a recently married colleague inviting her and Matt over to a dinner party—“I’m getting in early, kiddo! You’re amazingly popular.”

The last message profoundly shocked her. The letter opener fell out of her nerveless hand, clattering onto the tiles. Olivia moved with urgency nearer the machine, her heart lurching in anticipation of the bad news she knew instinctively was to come.

The voice was as familiar as her own but it was not the good-natured affectionate ramble she was used to. Instead Grace Gordon, Harry’s long-time housekeeper, sounded wildly upset. The words came tumbling out so fast Olivia had difficulty making out exactly what Grace was saying.

“Livvy, it’s me. It’s Gracie, love.” The voice invaded the small kitchen so loudly, it reverberated down the galley. “Livvy, you have to come home.”

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. What was wrong? It struck her immediately that it must be Harry. Harry always kept good health, but he was well into his seventies.

“Something awful has happened.” The words crackled down the line. “I couldn’t get through to you at the school. Some awful woman—so rude—told me you were in a meeting with the Head and couldn’t be disturbed. I hate to be the bearer of sad news, love.” There was a pause, as Grace battled her choking sobs, “It’s your uncle Harry,” she wailed, confirming Olivia’s worst fears. “He’s had a massive heart attack. He’s dead, Livvy! Three o’clock this afternoon just when I had a nice cup of tea ready for him. It was a terrible shock—it came right out of the blue. He’d been right as rain. Jason has been wonderful. A tower of strength.”

Jason? For an instant Olivia felt slashed open. How many Jasons could there be? The name struck another frightful blow. Olivia reeled back against the granite-topped counter, putting a hand over her thudding heart. What was Jason doing at Havilah? He had no right to show his face there ever again!

“Come home, love,” Grace was imploring, unable to gain control of her sobs. “Jason understands you’ll want to make the arrangements. Please ring me back, love, as soon as you can. I’m sorry I’m not making much sense, but I’m so upset.”

And what of me? In a daze, Olivia found her way into the living room, leaving her mail to spill unregarded to the kitchen floor. She slumped into a chair, feeling as though she had been utterly gutted. Harry was dead. Jason was a tower of strength. There was something very strange indeed going on. How and why was Jason at Havilah? Wasn’t Jason managing an Outback cattle station, his wife and child with him? Clearly he’d come back. But why? More importantly why hadn’t Harry told her?

Because he knew how much talk of Jason would upset you, her inner voice told her. Jason Corey had caused her tremendous pain. Years before as a girl of twenty she had thought her life was over when her fiancé Jason had jilted her on the eve of their wedding. At nearly twenty-seven she imagined she’d fought free of the pain and humiliation. Yet it only took the sound of his name to undo her. Grief and bitterness ran down Olivia’s cheeks in salty tears.

“Jason has been a tower of strength.”

Even the way Grace said it—Grace had always had such a soft spot for Jason—told Olivia it had to be her Jason.

Her Jason? She felt a stab of self-contempt that even under the terrible stress of the moment she could revert to thinking of him that way. He’d never been hers. Even when he’d been passionately declaring his love for her he’d slept with another girl—made her pregnant. She had trusted Jason with her life and she had never forgiven him. Just as she had never forgiven Megan Duffy who had been a childhood friend and was to be one of her four chosen bridesmaids.

She was Megan Corey now—Jason’s wife, mother of their child. Probably there were other children, too, Jason was so bloody potent. No one would tell Olivia. Everyone realized she didn’t want to know. As far as she was concerned, Jason and Megan belonged to the traumatic past. Consequently she was unwilling to believe Harry could allow Jason back into his life. When she suffered, Harry had suffered. Her uncle Harry, great-uncle really, was from her father’s side of the family. He had raised her since her parents had been killed in a rail disaster when she was ten. Harry was a bachelor—no-one including Harry quite knew why—and he had inherited the family ancestral home, Havilah Plantation in tropical North Queensland. The Linfields were pioneers of the sugar industry with the great bulk of the nation’s production contributed by the tropical North. In the early days Havilah had played host to Captain Louis Hope, revered as the father of the sugar industry. Born in Scotland, Captain Hope had established the first sugar cane plantation just outside Brisbane in the early l860s. From those beginnings had grown an industry that each year traded forty million tonnes of high quality raw sugar on the world market. The Linfields had always been very proud of their heritage.

Her parents, when they had made their wills, had named Harry as her guardian should anything happen to them. In those days it was thought to be a sensible precaution. Her parents were always described as “the glamorous young Linfields.” They were rich and blessed with good looks. They bore their name proudly and fully intended to live to a ripe old age.

It wasn’t in their stars. Death had presented itself twelve years into an idyllic marriage when they were both still in their thirties. Death didn’t miss rich families any more than it missed the poor. Three sons of the family had lost their lives fighting for the Allied cause in two World Wars. Olivia could scarcely believe it was less than a week since she had last spoken to Harry. Sometimes she called him several times in the one week, especially as he was getting older, but with end of year activities at the school she’d been particularly busy. Sometimes she thought she desperately needed to see Havilah again, but she knew she couldn’t endure it. There were too many memories to relive. She had grown tired of anguish. Her wedding reception was to have been held in Havilah’s great barn, Harry had had transformed into the most marvellous banquet hall and ballroom with a springy pine floor. Every last detail had been planned to perfection. Harry had spared no expense, everyone had been so happy the very air was sweet. This was a match made in heaven. She had thought at times she couldn’t possibly contain such happiness. She adored Jason. She couldn’t get through a day without him. She was on fire for him. And he for her.

All lies. Jason, the very image of true love to her, had had feet of clay.

Now her beloved Harry who knew all her traumas and her triumphs had left her. She thought how wonderful he had always been to her, involving himself in every aspect of her life. She’d received an excellent education graduating from university with a degree in education by the time she was twenty. She’d confidently expected to gain a position with one of the district’s high schools for a few years until she and Jason started a family. Afterwards when their much hoped for children were old enough she could resume her career.

Daydreams! But how could she have known differently? Everyone around her was convinced Jason was deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with her. His eyes when he looked at her! His voice when he spoke to her!

“He adores you!” Or so people told her.

How ghastly it had been to discover overnight that Jason had gone ahead and started a family with Megan Duffy. For a quiet girl Megan had been a fast worker. It was just as they said: still waters run deep. Megan’s father and brother had worked and probably still did for Uncle Harry at the mill. When other mills had been forced to close down, Linfield had remained open and Uncle Harry had been kindness itself to the families of his employees. How Megan had repaid him. Even Megan’s parents had been shockingly upset when they found out their only daughter was pregnant by Jason Corey of all people. That was some piece of information! It had shocked the entire district. Jason Corey was about to marry Olivia Linfield. Everyone knew Olivia and Jason had been bonded from childhood, they were meant for each other.

It wouldn’t be the first time in life certainties didn’t work out. Olivia had known that terrible day when Jason had come to her with his shattering news that could never bring herself to see him again. As soon as she was able she had moved nearly a thousand miles away to the State capital, Brisbane, enrolling for postgraduate studies so she could obtain her master’s. Study was the answer. Hard work. Delivering assignments right on time. It had been a constant battle for her but she had pushed herself along, fixing her mind on a goal.

She had never gone home, Uncle Harry had always come to visit her instead. On those occasions she did everything in her power to make sure he had a lovely time. Neither of them, of course, ever mentioned Jason—that would have spoilt everything. Jason had left her life in ruins. For a long time she had hated him with her every breath, but hatred was too extreme. She had to relinquish it for acceptance. She had taken the philosophical view—it had helped her in her struggle to fight back. Now with Harry dead a great deal more courage was required of her. She would have to go home.

A sense of deep nostalgia assailed her. She saw Harry in her mind’s eye. She felt his love all around her. A pulse in her temple throbbed as an image of Jason forced its way into her consciousness. The sun on his wonderful hair, a rich auburn, like a red setter’s coat, the impossibly deep, bold blue of his eyes, the surprise of his olive skin that unlike most redheads took on a golden tan. That was a legacy from his Italian grandmother, Renata. So was the laughter and daring in his nature, his love of the earth, his attitude to food and wine, to art, his capacity for passion. For her Jason Corey would always define the word “lover.” That was her tragedy. A lasting punishment when she had done no wrong. She was the victim, the one who had been betrayed.

As she continued to sit very quietly, her heart contracting and expanding with grief Olivia was faced with the thought that she was Harry’s heir. She had known that for many years. She was in his own words, “the daughter of my heart.” Now the tears started. How often had he told her that, or praised her with it in company? Havilah was hers. The realization carried enormous responsibility and enormous change. She was the only one bearing the family name left. There was extended family, of course—offspring of the daughters of the family—but she was the only Linfield. Havilah was the ancestral home, the Big House to what was once the largest and most prosperous sugar plantation in the North. When she was growing up, the sugar had been a major contributor to the nation’s economy. Directly or indirectly hundreds of thousands of people had depended on it for their livelihood, but various factors contributed to falling world prices and a downturn in the industry. Planters who had long enjoyed an enviable prosperity had had to learn to diversify to survive.

Havilah had led the way.

Before Jason had betrayed her and she’d been forced to leave home she had always taken the greatest interest in Harry’s wide business portfolio. He had encouraged her, proud of her acumen and her ability to act with grace and style as his hostess. There were always guests at Havilah, some of them quite important. She’d learned a great deal about the running of the plantation and the mill, the diversification into tropical fruits; Harry’s other share holdings in coffee, tea, cotton. Harry was not a man to invite risk in his ventures—he was a careful man by nature—sticking mostly to blue chip, but Harry would have been a wealthy man by any standards. He’d always bought her the most wonderful presents, spoiled her terribly. For her twenty-sixth birthday he’d bought her exquisite ruby and diamond drop earrings. She felt like a princess every time she wore them.

It was Jason who had all the potential to be a high flyer. Jason had often tried to talk Harry into going further afield with his diversification. Jason had been very interested in mining and mineral exploration. He had tried to persuade Harry to take a chance on a new Central Queensland gold mine but at the last minute Harry had backed off. Of course the operation had rocketed to success. To this day she couldn’t help noticing its soaring share prices in the financial pages.

Megan’s pregnancy had altered so many lives. She’d been forced away from Havilah to rebuild her life in Brisbane. Jason too had changed course, moving almost as far away as she had, across the Great Dividing Range that separated the vast sun scorched Outback from the lush coastal strip. She’d never understood why he had taken up the position of manager on an Outback cattle station. He didn’t know all that much about cattle—the owner could count on him to learn quickly—but he did have a brilliant business brain. He’d graduated top of his class in Commerce and Business Administration. Probably like her he’d wanted to get as far away as possible—try something entirely different. Or that was all that was offering with a wife and child to support. There hadn’t been any money in the Corey family. Jason had won his academic scholarships. She suspected Harry who’d always been very fond of Jason had helped out. In those days Jason had deserved to be helped to have his ambition applauded. Then came the fall.

Jason may have slept with Megan and made her pregnant but Olivia on the evidence had to accept it must have been a drunken, deplorable, one-night stand. That was what Jason had claimed. He had even confessed he couldn’t for the life of him remember what had happened. Even so she could never forgive him. At least he’d done the honourable thing and married Megan. He didn’t love her. The great irony was Jason had never really liked Megan claiming there was something secretive about her.

Now it seemed Jason and his family had returned home to their birthplace—who knew why—and it was Jason of all people who had found Harry dead. There seemed no way Jason Corey would remain in her past. As Olivia had learned to her cost there were no certainties in life. With Harry gone, she would have to face Jason again.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS scorching out in the fields. Jason, clad in a navy singlet and jeans, his skin sheened with sweat, sat in the ute draining off a soda and watching the bright red self-propelled harvesters cutting a swathe through the purple tipped ripe crop. The harvest reached an impressive four metres, stretching clear away to the indigo line of the ranges. The harvesters were lurching like dinosaurs along the rows removing the leafy tops of the cane stalks, cutting the stalks off at ground level and chopping the canes into small lengths called billets. The billets would be loaded into the wire bins that were being towed alongside by workers in tractors. Harvested cane deteriorated rapidly so it was imperative to get the crop to the mill for crushing as quickly as possible. Sixteen hours was the ultimate but on Havilah he’d seen to it no bin was in transit for more than a few hours. Computers tracked progress along the network of cane railways to the crush. The plantation and mill were run with the utmost efficiency, Harry depended on him. He wasn’t about to let Harry down. Harry had given him a second chance.

He’d spent the morning organising another big planting of the so called miracle fruit, a member of the Sapotacea family which was proving very popular for both the home and export market. The fruit which came from a small compact evergreen tree had the unusual characteristic of making sour and bitter fruit taste sweet. A piece of miracle fruit made eating a lemon easy. The mature trees were covered in a profusion of small bright red, olive shaped fruits with white flesh and a shiny seed. They’d moved on from the familiar tropical fruits such as mangoes, bananas, pawpaw-papayas and lychees to jaboticabas, sabotillas, rambutans, jackfruit, star apple, sapote and sapodillas, the very distinctive star-shaped succulent carambola, and the mangosteen to name a few. They all grew rapidly and thrived in the tropics. Havilah Plantation tropical fruit was much in demand.

Harry had asked him to join him at the homestead for afternoon tea. He wasn’t a tea man himself though Harry was part owner in both tea and coffee plantations on the Tableland. These days with Harry not as active as he used to be, it was part of Jason’s job to oversee them. He liked to keep Harry company and Harry despite everything still enjoyed his. In his heart he had to admit being with Harry made him feel Liv somehow was still part of his life.

How he’d loved her! It still made his heart swell to think about the rapture she inspired in him, though he tried not to think about Liv often. He’d grown used to a life of quiet desperation apart from his work. He’d thrown himself into that. In the two years he’d been back with Harry the people of the district seemed to have forgotten or at least forgiven him his crime of jilting the much loved Olivia Linfield, Harry Linfield’s heiress. Olivia had been and probably still was in a class of her own. She’d been the brightest, the most beautiful and the most popular girl in a district famous for beautiful and exotic women from a mixture of ethnic backgrounds. Great waves of immigrant Italian families, for instance, had opened up the North, contributing greatly to the prosperity and importance of the sugar industry. Italian blood ran through his veins, though his colouring was almost entirely his father’s whose background was Irish.

Olivia Linfield was their version of a princess. She enjoyed a privileged status. A prize for any man, yet she had chosen him. A princess wooed and won by a young man born on the wrong side of the tracks.

At sixteen, his father had started his working life as a cane cutter like his father before him. Those were the days before mechanical cane harvesters replaced manual labour. His mother had been a domestic up at the Big House—not that there was any sort of shame in that. In many ways it had been considered a plum job for those who hadn’t been in the fortunate position to go on to higher education. When Jason was twelve and almost a man his father had deserted his mother and him. One day he was there, a man of uncertain moods and temper, the next he was gone.

“Good riddance!” Jason’s Italian grandmother had cried, shaking her fist at the heavens. His grandmother was full of drama. “All he was, was a savage!” It was true his father had sometimes struck his mother. Those were the times he was drunk—not a happy drunk but ready to explode. Not that he was a bad man. There had been plenty of good times. But his father was a complicated man who detested living his life as an underdog. Basically he didn’t fit into the labourers’ scene. Surely he had been clever? And handsome. Jason remembered how handsome his father had been. Mesmerizing, his mother said. Tall, muscular, graceful like a sleek jungle cat. His father had loved to read. He devoured books, always eager to learn. His grandmother, jealous of her daughter’s love for the man, had called him a savage. He’d never been that.

Towards the end his father told them he had an urge to paint. Time was running out. He had much to learn. Niall Corey had always been able to draw. People. Animals. Birds. Whatever one wanted. He’d left a note for his wife saying he was following Gauguin’s example. Did that mean he’s sailed for Tahiti? Like Gauguin the famous painter he’d certainly abandoned his wife and family.

They’d never heard from him again.

Afterwards instead of burning them, his mother had gathered together all his sketchbooks like treasure. Jason couldn’t pretend they weren’t good though he hated his father for deserting them. His father had filled the sketchbooks with extraordinarily accurate and insightful sketches of all the people around him, his family, his co-workers, his bosses, the Linfields, exquisite pastels of his beautiful mother, Liv as a little girl. His father had always told him one day Liv would break his heart. How right he had been. He wished he hadn’t thought of Liv now. It brought the past crashing back.

He didn’t see Megan until she came alongside the car, tapping on the passenger window so he would open it.

“Hi, Megan.” He lowered the window, making himself smile at her when the very sight of her filled him with shame and a kind of creeping dread. He’d never much liked Megan Duffy. She was pretty enough but an odd little thing. Liv being Liv had always been kind to her. She had even asked Megan to be one of her bridesmaids which hadn’t been in his plans but it was the bride’s day after all. The truth was since the night of Sean Duffy’s twenty-fifth birthday party he absolutely dreaded running into Sean’s sister. “Anything wrong?” he asked, thinking there couldn’t possibly be. He was on his way to see Liv, the love of his life. Nothing could come between him and Liv.

“I have to speak to you, Jason.” Megan was all eyes, blue shadows beneath, pallid skin. She didn’t look well.

A sensation akin to fear ran through him. “Okay then. Hop in. I’m on my way to see Liv. I can drop you off on the way.” He tried to sound friendly but everything about her put him in a panic. It was so claustrophobic with her sitting beside him in the car. He had the weird notion he was going to suffocate. He swallowed on a parched throat—it seemed like his saliva glands had dried up—glanced at her, paying attention to her pallor. “What is it, Megan?”

Her voice was barely audible. “I’m over,” she said.

He was so frantic he laughed. “Over what?”

“Two months.” Now she began to cry, red blotches appearing almost instantly on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “I’m pregnant, Jason. I’m sick all the time.” Her voice rose to near hysteria. “It’s yours, Jason. Your baby. I was a virgin.”

Most of the guys thought she was. “Don’t do this to me! Are you sure, Megan?” he groaned, realizing with shock he had trembling hands. “It was only one time. I don’t even remember it. I’ve never been so drunk in my life. Oh, why talk about it! Have you seen a doctor?” he asked, feeling desperately ill himself.

“In this town?” Piteously Megan wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Besides, I had to tell you first, Jason. You’re the father. I’ve never been with anyone else.”

“Oh, Megan!” He slammed a fist into his knee, blazing with shame. “How did we let this happen?”

“I’m sorry, Jason,” Megan said feebly. “But you overpowered me. You’re so big and strong. It was near enough to rape but nothing would ever make me tell anyone else that.”

For all her cowered attitude suddenly that sounded like a threat. He trod on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt alongside the kerb. “No, Megan.” He fixed her with a searing stare. “I may have been all sorts of a fool, but I know I would never have forced you—that’s not my style. You’re entitled to be very upset but you must have given me some sort of encouragement?”

Very gently she touched his arm even though he visibly flinched. “You said it yourself, Jason. You were very drunk.” She stared at him, tears welling into her hazel eyes and slipping down her pale cheeks. “I’m so frightened. My father will kill me when he finds out. I’ve never been with anyone else, Jason. Couldn’t you tell? There was blood on the sheets.”

He recoiled. “I saw no blood.”

“You weren’t looking,” she pointed out mournfully. “I had to get you painkillers for your hangover. You were still sick the next day—almost out of it. Do you think I wanted this to happen, Jason? It was a terrible mistake. Olivia is my friend—she’s been so kind to me. She’s never looked down on us Duffys. Mum thinks Olivia’s a real lady. She’s always going on about it like I’m a slut, which you know more than anyone I’m not. This has been a dreadful shock for me, too. You’ve no idea how hard it’s been trying to keep myself together, locking myself into the bathroom. Mum asked me this morning if I had something to tell her. I think she knows.”

“That you’re pregnant?” Jason moved his eyes to her flat stomach.

“Yes,” she said, miserably. “I know what you’re thinking, Jason. You hate me.”

He rested his arms on the steering wheel, burying his face. He didn’t think he would ever smile again. “I don’t hate you, Megan. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Jason groaned in anguish wanting to shut the whole world out. He even had the sensation the blazing sun had disappeared. Where would he be without his beloved Liv? He might as well be dead. There was a taste like metal in his mouth, but he straightened up. “I’ll take care of you, Megan,” he promised. “This is my child, too. My responsibility. I always knew in my heart life didn’t promise me any rose-garden.”

Liv was a beautiful dream. Hadn’t he always had the feeling she was much too good for him.

Megan looked like she was about to reach out to him, but Jason backed right up against the car door, wanting to smash the window out. “Olivia loves you,” she said, her voice so tight the words might have been stuck in her throat.

“She’ll find someone else,” Jason muttered, thinking life for him was all over. Someone who deserves her.

Gradually Jason’s rage receded as pity gripped him. Megan was so small and desperate and her father, Jack Duffy was a brute of a man. A drunk and a failure, Jason could well imagine him being very tough on his daughter. Megan needed his support and so did the baby growing inside her. That baby was his. In the final analysis the baby was the one who mattered. Abandoned by his own father, Jason felt he had no other option but to front up to his responsibilities. “Our child deserves a future, Megan,” he said. “I’m not running away.”

An hour later he had sufficient control of himself to face Olivia. She ran down Havilah’s grand staircase to greet him, her long silky black hair flying behind her like a pennant in a breeze. So beautiful, so slender, so graceful, her smile so radiant it tore the heart out of him. He would never, until his dying day, get over Liv. Or cease missing her. “More presents have been arriving,” she said excitedly, lifting her face for his kiss.

Instead he drew her into the hollow of his shoulder. He had no right to kiss her anymore. He had forfeited that. “I have to talk to you, Liv,” he said, his voice conveying the raw intensity of his feelings. “Can we please go outside, take a walk.”

“Of course, darling.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “What’s the matter?” Love for him surged inside her, then a flash of naked fear. His handsome face was a mask of pain.

The only way to tell her was head-on. “I have bad news, Liv.” He led her out onto the colonnaded front terrace.

“It’s not your mother?” Olivia’s beautiful light grey eyes were full of concern. Antonella Corey didn’t keep good health.

“It’s not Mama.” Jason shook his head. “She’s okay.” But not for long. His mother would be devastated. His grandmother would go ballistic. “It’s something else. Let’s walk in the garden.”

“You’re frightening me, Jason.” She tucked her arm through his, staring at his resolute profile, the grimness of the strong jawline.

“I’m more sorry than I can possibly say.” Even then he couldn’t begin to calculate the full extent of the pain.

She shook his arm. “Jason, about what?” Olivia’s mind was racing. When she’d last spoken to Jason, only a few hours ago, he’d been on top of the world. Now he looked utterly desolate. Even his golden tan was bleached by emotion.

Jason paused beside the archway of pillar roses, staring at the roses without even seeing them. They had been brought to perfection for the wedding. The entire length of the archway was hung with cascading clusters of gorgeous blush pink double flowers with a wonderful fragrance. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Liv,” he began. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever had to say in my life. But I can’t marry you.”

She stared up at him blankly. Then she shook her head slightly as if to clear it. “Jason, darling, you’re not making any sense. You’re marrying me tomorrow. I love you. You love me.”

“I can’t marry you, Liv.” Grief was overflowing inside him. He raised his hand as if to stroke her cheek. Let it drop. “Months ago I did something crazy. Unforgivable.”

Olivia clasped her hands together prayerfully. “Tell me,” she urged, apprehension invading her black fringed luminous eyes.

“I love you, Liv,” he muttered. He felt like he was dying. “I love you more than life itself. I always knew I didn’t deserve you.”

“You do. You do! What are you talking about?” Olivia grasped the front of his shirt, clinging on.

“Megan Duffy came to me this afternoon,” he said starkly. “She told me she’s pregnant.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “Megan Duffy! What does she have to do with us? Megan Duffy?” Abruptly she spun about, presenting her slender back to him. “I don’t think I want to know. Is God punishing me for being so happy?”

“Liv, please. You’re breaking my heart. I wish, how I wish, I didn’t have to tell you this, but I’m the father, Liv.”

For moments Olivia stood utterly still like a statue, then fiercely she faced him, her eyes those of a woman who had been dealt a mortal blow. “I have no idea what is going on,” she said in a voice so tight it droned. “What do you mean you’re the father? How can that be? You love me. We’re getting married, remember? Harry has spent thousands and thousands making sure everything is just perfect for us. You’re lying.”

Desperate to touch her, even if he could never touch her again, he grasped her hands tightly. “You can’t think worse of me than I think of myself.”

“Jason, Jason, stop!” she cried. “I can’t bear it!” She wrenched her hands away from him, recoiling several steps. Tears welled into her eyes but she blinked them back furiously. Anger was starting to lift, to soar. She felt as if her life was shattering like shards of glass all around her. She wanted to lash out at him. Hurt him. Hadn’t he wounded her to death? “Bring Megan here,” she demanded, a shudder rippling through her body. “I want to look into her eyes. Lucy, our chief bridesmaid warned me I was taking a chance on Megan Duffy but stupid old trusting me felt sorry for her. She hasn’t had much of a life. Her father’s a bloody maniac. Have you thought of that? He could kill you. How could you make Megan Duffy pregnant? How could it possibly happen? When did it happen? That’s the thing. We’re never apart. Why did you never say a word? Did you take leave of your senses, Jason? Did you lose control? Why? You had me. You love me. You’ve told me so many times I couldn’t possibly keep count. You don’t like Megan Duffy. How could you possibly make love to a girl you don’t even like?”

Her words pierced him like a dagger to the heart. “Booze, what else?” he said in desolation. “I must have thought she was you…but, no!” Immediately he rejected that notion. “That wouldn’t be right, she could never be you. I was drunk, Liv, I’ll have to live with that all my life. As for when it happened? It was months ago, after Sean Duffy’s birthday party. I told you I’d look in. The terrible part is I didn’t want to go but I felt obligated to at least make an appearance. He’s on my team.”

She willed herself not to break into a storm of weeping. That would have to wait until later when she was alone. “On your team? To think I was so proud of the way you excelled at sports. You’re a wonderful athlete but Sean Duffy…you know he’s into drugs. Why get mixed up with the likes of him?” Olivia struck Jason so hard in the chest, he reeled off balance. “Someone stop me from screaming,” she cried out in torment. “You had sex with Megan Duffy, my bridesmaid? That’s too much.” Olivia wrapped her arms around her body, holding herself upright with a tremendous effort. She had to counteract the feeling she was going to pass out. Her beautiful skin registered her agitation. It had turned white as milk. “Am I dreaming?” She stared upwards at the cloudless blue sky as though it could give her the answer. “I’m in the middle of a nightmare, aren’t I? Tell me!”

Jason shook his auburn head in shame and despair. “I don’t know how it happened, Liv. I can’t believe it happened.” His wide shoulders slumped. “I’d give anything to turn back the clock. I’ll never forgive myself for causing you so much pain.”

“Pain? What do you mean, pain?” she gritted. “What about the bloody humiliation?” She who rarely swore was having difficulty stopping. “Don’t let’s beat about the bush. You’ve made the greatest fool of me. I gave you my heart. My soul. My pathetic body. At least I didn’t set you up for a shotgun wedding, that’s what you’ll have with the Duffys. And good luck to you and Megan. I’d have gone with you to the ends of the earth if you’d asked me. I was a total, total fool about you. As for that little traitor Megan, I felt I was helping her but all the while she was probably using me. You were right when you once called her secretive. I’ve been so happy, so brimming with joy, I couldn’t see what was right under my nose.” Olivia let out a strangled breath. “Ah, Jason!” Sorrow replaced anger. “To think I loved you. Your blue eyes! I thought your beautiful blue eyes were windows to your soul. Only there’s no-one home in your soul.”

He inhaled jaggedly, feeling the most profound shame. “Not anymore.” He’d lost her. He was demolished.

Olivia’s radiance too was totally extinguished. “I’ve loved you all my life,” she said brokenly. “To think Harry loves you. He’s done so much for you. He was proud to welcome you into the family. How you’ve betrayed us, betrayed yourself.”

“I know.” He felt like a man of no substance. Like his father.

“You know?” She threw up her chin. It perfectly expressed her anger and pride. “Is that all you can say? You know! Goddamn you, Jason.” Her voice began to shake in her throat. Her eyes turned to a diamond dazzle of pure fury. Deliberately she brought up her left hand that bore his ring and slapped him hard as she could across his taut handsome face. It left a red stain on his tanned skin and little spurts of blood where the setting of the ring had caught him. “I want you to leave,” she said with the greatest contempt. “Here’s your ring though it meant precious little to you.” She tore the solitaire diamond ring off her finger, hurling it at him, all fierce disgust. “I never want to see you again.” She was choking with anger and grief. “Go away, Jason Corey. Go away and never come back.”

Jason came out of his reverie as a huge smoke-grimed hand came in the open window of the ute and touched his shoulder. It startled him. “Bruno?”

“Are you all right, mate?” Bruno, who had been driving one of the tractors looked in at him with concern. “It must be boiling in the ute. I’m goin’ over to the shed for a cold beer. Want one?”

Jason blinked hard, hoping his expression wasn’t as stricken as he felt. The memories that had come rushing back had been more vivid than they had been in a long time. “No thanks, Bruno,” he said, surprised his voice sounded so normal. “You go right ahead. We’re making good progress. Mr. Linfield has asked me to join him.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going.”

“See ya later then, boss.” Bruno, a giant of a man stood away from the ute, giving Jason a quick salute as he drove away.

He had to get shot of the sense of hopelessness and futility that had overwhelmed him, Jason thought. It had come right out of the blue. Memories had a tendency to do that. With the passing of time he had convinced himself he was getting better and better at holding himself together. He was nowhere near the strong, self-sufficient figure most people thought him. All it needed was a chink opening onto the past for him to fall into a black void. Why were his memories bothering him today? He didn’t even dream about Liv much anymore. He’d learned to keep a tight rein on himself, even his subconscious. He had responsibilities. Harry had come to depend on him more and more. Jason was virtually running Havilah these days.

“You’re my right hand man, Jason. I’m closer to you than I am to anybody outside my dear Olivia.”

Tough as nails, him. A very fast learner. Harry had never had cause to tell him anything twice anymore than the owner of Caramba Station who’d done everything in his power to get Jason to stay on. His mother’s final illness-cancer—and quick death had brought him home. It had been a very, very difficult time. He’d loved his mother as he’d come to despise his absent father. But life went on. He had his little daughter, Tali to take care of. He had to make life right for her She was a wonderful little kid with his deep blue eyes. He saw little, if anything, of Megan in her. Her thick, silky black curls spoke to him of her Italian heritage though she hadn’t inherited the olive skin.

He was nearing the house when he saw Harry sitting on a garden bench down by the lagoon with its flotilla of exquisite water lilies, pink, cream and the sacred blue lotus. For some reason he couldn’t fully understand Jason felt disturbed by something in Harry’s attitude. He brought the ute to a halt, stepping out onto the gravelled drive. Harry didn’t look up so he cupped his hands around his mouth, calling Harry’s name. It was too hot for Harry to walk uphill to the homestead.

This time he expected Harry to turn his head and wave acknowledgement, except Harry didn’t budge. He continued to stare ahead at the glittering green sheet of water.

Jason found himself sprinting down across the thick, springy lawn. “Harry?” He’d had so many shocks in his life he was coming to expect the worst as a matter of course.

No answer from Harry’s still form.

He was there, bending over to stare into Harry’s face half concealed by the wide brim of his familiar white panama.

Harry! Dear Harry! Dear friend! Was loss the norm? Jason rested his hand lovingly on his mentor’s thin shoulder. For want of a male role model in life Harry Linfield had become that. Harry had known all about his inconsolable grief when he lost Olivia. An open paper bag containing little morsels of bread had fallen at Harry’s feet, scattering crumbs over the emerald-green grass. It gave Jason some comfort Harry’s expression was so peaceful. He must have passed away feeding his beloved black swans. Jason stared out across the arum lily lined lagoon and silently said a prayer.

It was only when he had Harry back at the house with Gracie crying her heart out Jason began to think of the ramifications of Harry’s death. Olivia would have to be notified immediately. Olivia was Harry’s nearest and dearest, his heiress. Grace would have to do that if he could ever stop her crying. The last thing Liv would want was to hear from him. As far as Liv was concerned he was still managing an Outback cattle station. Harry had never told her of the big changes on Havilah or the fact he had hired Jason Corey to run it. Harry had never explained the reasons why. They both knew Liv would have reacted with horror, there was no question about that. So Olivia was never told.

With Havilah in Olivia’s hands he would have to move on. This, when Tali had come to love the place. Jason determined he wasn’t going to leave until he’d placed Harry’s favourite crimson roses on his grave.

CHAPTER THREE

OLIVIA took a much earlier flight than planned. When she rang Doctor Hilary Lockwood, the head of Ormiston Girls Grammar, with her sad news, Doctor Lockwood was most sympathetic. She assured Olivia there was no need whatever for her to attend school the following day. They would miss her at the break-up party—Olivia had been closely involved in the preparation—but everyone would understand she’d be in no mood for celebrations. Doctor Lockwood expressed her sincere sympathies one more time, thanking Olivia for all her efforts on behalf of the school during the year. They had been well noted.

Olivia decided in advance once she reached her destination she would ring Grace to arrange for someone to pick her up at the terminal. Grace would know better than to enlist Jason Corey’s help. The previous night she had lain awake into the small hours, grieving for her dear Harry, trying to come up with reasons why Jason Corey would have been at Havilah when Harry died.

Had he come home to be with his mother perhaps? Antonella Corey had not enjoyed good health. Some said the rapid deterioration had started after her husband had abandoned her. Had Jason’s grandmother, Renata, died? Hard to believe. Renata was ageless. Larger than life. But that was foolish. There were always massive changes in life. Sometimes it was hard for Olivia to believe she’d been away for so many years.

Was it something to do with Megan’s family? She had no real idea of anything that was happening in that part of the world. She had cut herself off. She rarely if ever thought of Megan Duffy. Megan had been guilty of the ageless betrayal—she had stolen another woman’s man, whether premeditated or not. Olivia didn’t want to think about Megan Duffy. Not ever! She refused to think of her as Jason’s wife, much less could she bear to think of her as the mother of Jason’s child. That role had belonged to her. It had been ordained.

What a wide-eyed innocent she had been. She no longer wept about it. It was the stuff of fiction. Love and betrayal. A rival’s deceit. It had become clear to her over the years Megan had been in love with Jason, not that Megan was the only one. If anyone could be said to have sexual radiance it was Jason Corey. Women were powerfully attracted to him. They thought him gorgeous, his wonderful colouring, the fine modelling of his bone structure, the way he carried his splendid body. Sex appeal beat around Jason in molten waves.

But he was hers. She’d been so sure of him—she had never for one moment doubted Jason’s love—she had never been beset by jealousy or the fear some other woman would take him from her. No one could do that. Jason loved her. She loved him. Neither would dream of hurting the other. Everything simply got better as their wonderful relationship strengthened and deepened. Betrayal was never to be guessed at.

Until Megan Duffy.

Olivia sat very quietly on the plane resting her head against the cold oval of the window, staring out at the billowing white clouds and the great silver wing of the aircraft. The man beside her, thirtyish, attractive with snapping dark eyes had tried to start up a conversation but gradually got the message leaving her alone with her sad thoughts. She couldn’t escape them even in sleep.

Almost two hours later her plane had landed and she had collected her baggage loading it onto a trolley. Then she rang through to the house. To her surprise, no-one answered. She gave it five minutes, rang again. Same result. Grace didn’t come to the phone. She could be anywhere. It was a big house. There were a number of extensions but even then Grace might not have heard the phone ringing. She was sorry now she hadn’t rung Grace from Brisbane instead of leaving it until now. That was a mistake—Grace wouldn’t be expecting her for hours. She was probably making her old bedroom ready; or putting the homestead in top-top order. Many people would be attending Harry’s funeral. They would all want to come back to the house.

Harry’s funeral.

Olivia bit down hard on her lip. When she felt more composed she lifted her head. Outside the terminal building was the taxi rank. A taxi was pulling away. Five more were lined up. It was a long trip to Havilah. She might as well get started.

“Let me take that for you, Miss.” A porter appeared beside her taking charge of her laden trolley. “Are you being met or are you taking a taxi?”

“Taxi, thank you,” she smiled at him, grateful for his help.

They were driving up the avenue of towering palms. Cuban Royals. Twelve to each side like sentinels. From the moment she’d stepped onto the tarmac at the airport Olivia knew she was home. This was the tropics. North of Capricorn. Scent of flowers. Scent of salt. Scent of sea. Though the taxi was pleasantly air-conditioned she had wound down the window a little so she could feel the heat in her blood. Everywhere she looked was lush emerald green vegetation, vying with brilliant displays of colour. The great overhead curve of sky was a deep cobalt blue.

On the verge of the Wet the landscape was splendid. The golden cascara trees had broken out in bloom, as had the magnificent poincianas that adorned the grounds. Her eyes moved lovingly to the beautiful magnolias with their huge waxy flowers; the burnt orange cups of the tulip trees, the extraordinary displays of the ever present bougainvillea, the common purple, and the hybrids, gold, white, apricot, bronze, crimson, fuchsia, violet, pink. Bouganvillea was the plant for the tropics. It made an enormous impact. Towering, dazzling, drawing the butterflies as surely as the lantana.

“This is some place,” the driver commented, gazing from side to side in admiration. “First time I’ve ever brought anyone here. It’s a real experience. You’re a visitor, miss?”

“This is my home.”

“No kiddin’?” The driver was so surprised he almost brought the car to a stop. “I thought it belonged to Mr. Linfield?”

“I’m his niece. His great-niece.” Olivia was unable to bring herself to say Harry had died. The news would travel like wildfire anyway.

“Sounds about right,” the driver glanced over his shoulder at Olivia with bright, smiling eyes. “You and the house are of a piece.” Classy, he thought. A high-stepping thoroughbred. Super refined.

The taxi came to rest at the base of the broad flight of white marble steps that led up to the terrace. The driver attended to her luggage, placing it on the verandah, while Olivia stood in the brilliant sunshine staring up at the house. It was large. An imposing colonial mansion painted the classic white with midnight blue shutters she remembered as always having being green. The glossy dark blue looked good she considered. It made a nice change. The colonnaded two storey central section rose proudly, flanked by substantial one storey wings. The handsome white pillars of the central section were thickly woven by the same violet-blue trumpet vine of old with its shining dark green pinnate leaves. The leaves were almost as pretty as the prolific clusters of mauve flowers.

I’ve never been away, she thought. The myth of her being remote from her past life was exposed. Havilah had always been an enchanted place. The wonderful sense of peace was the same. It was Harry’s spirit presiding over the plantation. He had been a truly good man.

Olivia paid the driver adding a handsome tip. It had been a long trip but the driver had been pleasant and courteous, not bothering her with too much conversation. She waited a moment for the taxi to drive off, suddenly overcome by her grief.

No Harry to greet her. She was dimly aware of the heat of the sun on her bare head. She’d taken the precaution of wearing sunglasses to protect her eyes from the all pervading light. The air near the house smelled heavily of gardenias and frangipani. The extensive grounds appeared more beautiful to her than ever before, the great drifts of lawn perfectly manicured. It looked as though a team of gardeners was circling eight hours a day. Harry would have been very happy indeed at the way everything looked. She had never pressed him about business or staffing but it looked as though Harry had found himself a splendid overseer.

Go up, she told herself, move one foot after the other. This is your home. Your house now. These coming days— Harry’s funeral—a possible confrontation with Jason Corey—had to be got through. Her silk blouse was sticking faintly to her back in the heat. It occurred to her as it had so often in the past, the perfumed heat of the tropics was not only sensual but sexual. Unbidden came the memory of indigo nights on the beach with Jason. The call of the sea. The way the white sand always found its way onto the rug. The grooves their bodies made. His mouth on hers. His hand on her naked breast, her body stirring beneath his every touch.

The passion that had bloomed out of them! Was it the flush of youth? She had never experienced anything remotely approaching it ever since. The murmured endearments that had welled from their mouths, then rendered wordless when desire mounted so high it stopped all ability to speak. Her blood still carried the memory deep within its cells. She would never be free of it. Passion. Doomed or not, it had been hers for a little while.

Heart burning Olivia walked up the flight of steps to the shade of the lofty terrace. No one was around. She couldn’t quite understand why. There was movement in the grounds though she couldn’t see through the thick screening of shade trees to the lower levels and the secret garden rooms she had once so loved. She knew Grace would have been left near helpless by Harry’s death. Grace had worshipped Harry. She had been in his employ for close on thirty years and Harry had been the best employer in the world.

Olivia moved into the silent entrance hall where the white marble flooring continued. Everything reminded her of her loss especially the rich scent of the glorious crimson roses that drifted to her from the crystal bowl atop a console. Roses had been Harry’s favourite flower. Despite the difficulties of keeping them pest free in the tropics Havilah’s rose gardens flourished.

“Grace?” she called, remembering Grace was at retirement age and could even be a touch deaf.

She lifted her eyes to the upstairs gallery that gave off the graceful central staircase. She fully expected Grace to appear and was troubled when she didn’t. The entrance hall was as beautiful as ever, the perfect setting for the works of art that adorned the high walls above the double archways that led on the right to the formal drawing room, on the left to the library. Light was streaming into both rooms through the soaring French doors. Olivia didn’t bother calling again. She decided to go in search of Grace. Very likely she was in the kitchen at the rear of the house.

Olivia had started down the passageway when all of a sudden there was a light clatter of footsteps from somewhere behind her. Olivia spun around in surprise as a little girl with a mop of dark curls dressed in a white T-shirt and floral shorts, dashed through one of the archways clearly making for the front door.

“Hi there!” Olivia called, much as she would have attempted to arrest the headlong flight of a young student. “Where are you going, little girl?”

The child didn’t attempt to flee any further. She turned around, standing her ground for all the world like a miniature adult. “Who are you?” she countered, staring back at Olivia with bright blue eyes.

“I’m Olivia.”

“I’m Tali. I’m looking after Gracie.”

“Really?” Olivia nearly laughed aloud, catching the note of pride in the child’s voice. “And where is Gracie?”

“She’s in the kitchen. Do you want me to go get her?”

“Why don’t we both go,” Olivia said, holding out her hand.

The child came towards her. “You’re pretty, lady,” she said in a tomboyish voice, staring up at Olivia and taking her hand.

“Thank you. You’re pretty yourself.”

“I like your earrings. And your watch.”

“You’ve got good taste. What’s Tali short for? I should know.”

“Natalie,” the little girl scoffed. “No one calls me that.”

“Where’s your mother?” Olivia asked, thinking she was probably one of the household staff.

The child’s bright blue eyes slid away. “I dunno.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

Tali gave an unexpected little bark of laughter. “I’m supposed to say prayers every day but I don’t.”

Olivia was about to ask her what she meant when Grace came charging through the swing door that led in and out of the kitchen. When she saw Olivia and Tali hand in hand she gave a great start.

“You’ve met then?” she whispered, sounding as badly shaken as she looked.

“Hey, Gracie, what’s going on?” Olivia let go of the child’s hand. She moved swiftly towards Havilah’s housekeeper, drawing her into a big hug. “Come on now, don’t cry,” Olivia murmured, patting Grace on the back, hoping she wasn’t going to start up herself.

“I can’t help it.” Grace’s plump shoulders shuddered.

“I know.”

Tali inched closer, suddenly throwing her arms around Olivia’s legs and joining in on the hug. “I’m scared.”

Immediately both women dropped their arms, focusing on the child. “There’s no need to be scared, Tali,” Olivia said in a kind, encouraging voice.

Tali shook her dark head, her eyes big and grave. “You’re Miss Olivia?”

“Olivia will do.”

“You’ve come to see us because Uncle Harry is dead?”

Beside Olivia, Grace made an agitated movement. “I should have told you last night. I’m ashamed of myself. I was trying to.”

“Told me what?” Olivia sought the housekeeper’s eyes. They were red-rimmed. In fact Grace’s good humoured, homely face was swollen from crying.

“I didn’t dare.”

“On come on now,” Olivia urged. “What’s the problem, Grace? You’re not making a scrap of sense.”

“You oughta tell her,” the child chided Grace. “I’m Tali Corey.” Her hand stole to Olivia’s arm. “Are you gonna hate me?”

Olivia stared down at the little girl in a dazed silence. What had the child just said? Her head felt swimmy like she was about to faint. “How old are you, Tali?” she asked, thinking: This is Jason’s child. Who did she look like? She was neither Jason nor Megan. But she did look vaguely familiar.

“I’ll be seven next birthday,” Tali announced proudly. “I’m tall for my age. I’m as tall as my friend, Danny, but I don’t read silly comic books.”

Olivia shifted her gaze to Grace, her eyes ice-grey with shock. “What’s going on here, Grace?”

Grace began to shuffle her feet. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Livvy.”

“Tell me what? That little Tali here has the run of the house? That she called Harry Uncle Harry? Where does she live? Where’s her mother? What’s she doing here now? She told me she was looking after you?”

“Little monkey!” Grace said fondly, shaking her head.

“Look don’t get mad,” Tali said, absorbing Olivia’s expression. “Don’t ask Gracie all those questions. Ask Dad.”

“He’s here?” By now Olivia felt so agitated she didn’t know if she could handle the situation.

“I’ll take you to him,” Tali offered helpfully. “You could start over being friends.”

“Never!” Olivia said with fervour, lifting her chin.

“Sure. You’re grown-ups. You have to try.” Tali’s eyes, round and pleading were on Olivia’s stricken face.

“Tali, dear,” Grace tried ineffectually to stop the child’s guileless comments.

“Stay here. I’ll go get him.” Tali’s voice was oddly determined. She seemed very mature for her age.

Olivia stepped in front of her. “No, thank you, Tali.”

“It’s no trouble,” Tali told her sweetly.

“I’m sorry, Tali, but I prefer not to see your father at the moment.” Ever again was silent but understood.

“You know Dad doesn’t hate you,” Tali pleaded.

“What must you think of me, Livvy.” Grace was literally wringing her hands. “I’m so ashamed. I should have warned you.” The admission set off another crying spell.

“Grace, please.” Olivia sought to calm her. She couldn’t blame Grace for not owning up. Grace had had her instructions.

“Poor old Gracie!” Tali tried to get a comforting arm around Grace’s stoutness. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Daddy will be here soon.”

“Dad’s here now,” a vibrant male voice called from somewhere outside on the terrace. “Tali, get out here,” the voice ordered crisply. “What do you mean by running away?”

“Jus’ dropping in on Gracie,” the child raised her voice, making no attempt to move.

“Next time you tell me.”

Jason stepped out of his dusty work boots, leaving them on the terrace. “You spoil her, Grace.” Head bent he came through the front door. “Every time I’m working near the house Tali makes a bee-line—”

He looked up, saw Olivia. His shock was so powerful his voice cracked on the last word. Wave after wave of heat broke over him, sizzling like he’d touched a live wire. “Liv!” The fists of his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles showed white.

Grace already on tenterhooks interpreted this as a good time to disappear. She acted quickly, getting a firm grip on Tali’s hand and bearing her off to the kitchen mumbling something about a chocolate sundae.

By sheer force of will Olivia remained where she was. Her impulse was to run, to do anything but stand there and confront the man who had betrayed her. She put a hand to the banister of the staircase to steady herself. Jason couldn’t hurt her anymore. She wouldn’t let him. So why were tears stinging her eyes? She opened her mouth, but her throat was so constricted words wouldn’t come. At the sight of him all the feelings she had for so long been suppressing sprang into full bloom.

Oh God, no! she prayed silently. There had to be something seriously wrong with her. She managed a curt nod, unaware her turbulent emotions were flashing out of her eyes. More than six years had passed yet all the old memories beat in on her; the humiliation, the anger, the never ending heart break, the physical longing for him despite his betrayal. It all came back as vividly alive as yesterday.

“We weren’t expecting you until late this afternoon.” Jason’s voice cut into the suffocating silence.

Olivia swallowed hard on the rush of anger. It was crucial to retain control. “I never expected to see you, either,” she said coldly. “What are you doing here, Jason?”

Finally she had to know. “I work here, Liv,” he said, making an involuntary move towards her. It was so miraculous to have her standing there in front of him, looking like something out of a dream, for a moment he thought he’d do something really stupid like attempt to embrace her or worse blurt out he still wanted her. That would go over well. He had never seen a woman look so icy in his life.

“Stay there. Don’t come near me,” she warned him sharply, visibly recoiling.

“I’m sorry.” He halted a few feet away, enveloped by self-contempt. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Liv. We have to talk.”

She made herself laugh, a sound totally without humour. “I have nothing whatever to say to you, Jason. I want you to go away.” There was a perverse pleasure in seeing the angles of his face tighten. He looked older, tougher, harder, handsomer. The worst part of it was that he looked like a man who was used to authority.

“I’ll be glad to go, Olivia,” he clipped off. “After you give me a few minutes of your time. I need to explain a few things Harry didn’t get around to telling you.”

“Like what?” She didn’t want to look at him, neither could she look away. He wore work clothes supporting the claim he had a job on Havilah. A navy T-shirt hugged his wide shoulders and muscular chest, his jeans slung low on his lean hips, tightly fitting his long legs. It was simple gear but it fit his body to perfection. He had taken off his work shoes before coming into the house, standing well over six feet in his dusty socks. The whole effect was a stunning, entirely natural sexuality.

Olivia felt her forehead bead with heat. A rage of self-disgust was coursing through her, making her feel less of a person. Instead of responding to his so obvious manly attractions she should be remembering the great wrong he had done her. Where was her pride? She knew she wouldn’t be well-prepared for this difficult encounter but she had expected more of herself.

“I knew you were at Havilah when Harry died,” she said, not bothering to hide her hostility. “I know you found him. I want to see him to say goodbye.”

“Of course. I can take you,” Jason offered quietly. “His body is at the funeral home.”

“Aronson’s?” She felt the tears well into her eyes; blinked them back.

“Yes.” He knew exactly how grief-stricken she felt.

“I can find it.” She rejected his offer out of hand. “I don’t need you, Jason. It’s much too late to play at being friends. I’m tired, it was a long trip. What is it you have to say? I doubt it will interest me much. So you work here? I don’t know how Harry allowed it. I can’t forgive you at all.”

“Can we go into the library?” he suggested. “Voices travel down the hallway.”

She could tell from his concentrated frown he thought the child might hear. She relented on that account only, leading the way into the drawing room as beautiful and gracious as ever. Olivia turned to him—she had no choice—feeling a throbbing pressure in her right temple. She even tapped a finger to it. “You’ve only got a minute, Jason, then I want you off Havilah. How did your wife ever consent to your coming back here? I thought you were managing a station Outback?”

Jason was doing his best to repress his own turbulent feelings. As a girl Olivia had been lovely. As a woman she was blindingly beautiful. Every single feature of her face had gained definition. He wished he could tell her how beautiful she’d become but of course he couldn’t. “My mother died, Olivia,” he explained. “That was just over two years ago. I cam home to be with her in the final stages.”

“I’m sorry.” Olivia bowed her head, unhappy she couldn’t offer the sympathy that deserved. “I liked your mother. I had no argument with her or she with me. And after she died, why didn’t you return Outback?”

“Because Harry offered me a job,” Jason shot back. “We met by accident one day. I talked, Harry listened. He always was a good listener and a very fair minded man. I’ve been managing Havilah and Harry’s other business interests for the past two years.”

That piece of news would have shattered her had she not been shattered already. “And he never said a word.” The thought upset her tremendously.

“Harry didn’t want to lie or pretend.” Jason’s eyes burned over her. She was wearing a silk shirt and matching skirt in the colour of the jacarandas. The lavender sheen seemed to be reflected in her eyes. “Harry knew what your reaction would be,” he added quietly.

Olivia couldn’t bear to be so close to him. She turned on her heel, walking away to an open French door staring sightlessly out onto the garden.

“I thought Harry loved me.” There was deep anguish in her tone.

“You were everything in the world to him.” Jason protested, putting his heart and his soul into that. He couldn’t bear to see her looking so betrayed.

Almost violently Olivia shook her head. “He let you back into his life,” she pointed out in a withering voice.

There was pain in Jason’s eyes. “Harry forgave me, Olivia. He knew what my life was like after I lost you.”

She spun about, her eyes sparkling like jewels. “Oh, that’s good!” she bitterly scoffed. “You married someone else, Jason. Remember? You have a daughter by her. I expect other children?”

“Just Tali,” he said, his expression turning withdrawn.

“Harry shouldn’t have done it.” Once again she tasted the gall of betrayal. In the end didn’t men stick together? Harry had always had a deep affection for the fatherless Jason.

“Well he did,” Jason confirmed flatly. “It wasn’t just kindness, though Harry was kindness itself. Harry had reached a stage in life when he badly needed help. He knew I could handle the job. I’ve become deeply involved in all Linfield operations, Liv. I doubt you could find someone better, or someone who has worked harder.”

“You can bet your life I’ll try!” Olivia retorted. “You must have known one day you would have to go?” She was unable to keep the note of triumph from her voice.

He nodded, throwing up his dark fire head. “Sure, and I’m prepared to go, Olivia. I can’t imagine anything worse than sticking around to take flack from you. I worked for Harry. Trying to work for you would make a big difference. Back then Harry needed someone he trusted to run his affairs. I always had a good business brain and we were able to turn my progressive ideas into winners. I’ve changed a lot of things for the better around here—Harry appreciated that. I’ll always be grateful to him because he gave me a second chance. It wasn’t always easy for him. He didn’t enjoy not being straight with you but he was keenly aware of your feelings. The overriding factor was he’d reached a stage in life when he needed help. My help as it turned out.”

“Help that won’t be needed from now on.”

“I wonder how long it’s going to take you to realize you’re not in any position to take over?” Jason unleashed a taunt.

“You won’t be around to find out.” Olivia shook her long hair. It had grown back over the last six years. “Where are you living?” she demanded as though he had somehow found his way into the house.

Jason shook his head. “Not here, if that’s what you’re on about. Mum left the family home to me. That’s where Tali and I live.”

“And Renata?” Her proud aloof expression softened slightly.

“She’s still at her own place. She does a lot of child minding.”

“Megan too busy to look after her little daughter?” Immediately after she said it Olivia was furious for mentioning Megan’s name.

“Megan’s gone, Olivia,” he shocked her by saying.

“Gone?” That was the last thing she expected to hear. “Gone where?”

Jason realized he’d been holding his breath, waiting for this question to come. “Our marriage didn’t work out, Liv. I never loved Megan. I couldn’t make myself love her though I tried to make our marriage work. The thing is, no-one can love to order. In the end Megan became so bitter and angry she left.”

“Just like that?” Olivia’s mouth curved in disbelief. “Simplicity itself leaving a man who doesn’t love you. But your child? How did she do it or did you refuse to let her have custody of Tali? I can see you doing that?”

“She didn’t want Tali,” Jason informed her bluntly. “Tali was cargo she didn’t need to carry. Megan wasn’t a good mother I’m afraid. She didn’t bond with Tali right from the beginning, totally lacked the maternal streak you women are supposed to have. She had some dark places in her soul, poor Megan.”

Olivia stared at him openly, too shocked to register anything but her disbelief. “So where is she now?”

Jason shrugged. “The last I heard she was living with some guy in the Territory.”

“Well, gee, Jason, you made a mistake.” Olivia assumed a laconic drawl, allowed herself to give vent to her emotions. “It’s Tali I feel sorry for. She must have feelings of grief and abandonment?”

Jason’s chiselled jawline tightened. “I think Tali had a pretty rough time with Megan when I wasn’t around.”

Olivia blinked. “Can you clarify that?” she asked sharply. The Megan she remembered had always appeared quiet and docile.

“I don’t want to go into this, Olivia.” Jason’s tone was curt. “Megan didn’t have an easy childhood. Some of it brushed off on her. I mightn’t have been able to love her but I always tried to do the right thing by her. In the end I was glad she took off because I was worried eventually she might hurt Tali.”

“And when did she take off as you put it?”

“Megan left when Tali was almost four,” Jason answered, openly on edge.

“She doesn’t look like you,” Olivia stunned herself by saying. “She doesn’t look like Megan, either, although there is something familiar about her.”

“I thought she had my eyes.” He shrugged.

She glanced away before she burst into tears. “Only in the sense they’re blue. I wish I could say I’m sorry for the mess you’ve made of your life, Jason, but I’m not such a hypocrite.”

“Once you didn’t lack for compassion,” he said, trapping her gaze. “It wasn’t in your nature to be mean.”

“I didn’t say I’m proud of myself,” she retorted, colour springing to her cheeks. “You got enough of that from Harry anyway, don’t expect it from me. After the funeral, Jason, I don’t want to see you again.”

CHAPTER FOUR

AS BEFITTING a man of Harry Linfield’s standing, patriarch of the community, his funeral was widely attended. Olivia knew the church was going to be packed. She was right. Mourners crowded into the cool, hushed interior, greeting each other in low, saddened voices. Many more people saw, as they approached the open church door, there was no room for them in the press of congregation. They would have to stand outside in the blazing sun or quickly seek the shade of the giant magnolia that stood in the church grounds.

Everyone was given a service sheet. Olivia as Harry’s nearest and dearest, sat up front with members of the extended family who had flown from all over to attend Harry’s funeral. Olivia had received countless subdued smiles and nods of recognition from the moment she had stepped out of her funeral house limousine right up until she took her seat in the front pew. Most of the mourners had been invited back to the house. She saw Jason on the other side of the church, in his formal dark clothes which together with the sombre expression on his chiselled face only added to his heartbreaking handsomeness.

She looked through him. His familiarity, the intimacy they had once shared a fierce torture. They would have been married from this church.

Don’t think about it. Think of Harry.

There were flowers everywhere. She had ordered reams of them despite the heat. Harry had loved flowers. There were great sprays of arum lilies, November lilies, roses, carnations, orchids and clouds of gypsophilia. Her huge bouquet of white November lilies had been placed on Harry’s casket. They all rose to their feet as the vicar, tall, silver haired, black and white robed, moved to a position just to the right of the coffin. He began to speak. The sort of words one always hears at funerals. Life, death, resurrection. The organ began to play. They all consulted their service sheets to join in the hymn. Perhaps there were too many flowers. They looked wonderful, softening the cruelty of death, but the perfume was clogging her nostrils making it hard for her to breathe. She began to pray for Harry; for her parents long dead. Harry had been far more than a guardian. He had been the closest person in the world to her. Outside Jason. It was impossible to leave out her traitorous lover.

“Are you all right, Livvy?” An elderly cousin bent solicitously towards her, placing a hand over Olivia’s.

She made a huge effort to respond. “Yes, thank you,” she whispered.

She made herself focus on her breathing. In and out. In and out. Deep and slow. Surely she wouldn’t be able to read the short poem she had picked out for the service? She was amazed now she had agreed to get up and speak. She was far too upset. She would read the poem quietly over his grave. Harry had been of a generation that read poetry constantly and loved it. She loved poetry herself. Poets had a way of expressing everything that needed to be said in the shortest possible time.

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