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Francesca looked over her shoulder. ‘Only that? Oh, well, I didn’t think you had it in you to do even that. It won’t get you anywhere, though. Good day to—’
‘I apologise for the rest of it, then. Perhaps I did rather overreact.’
Francesca paused, then swung around. ‘You must rate me as really cheap, Mr Stevensen,’ she said gently. ‘That won’t do it either.’
‘All right, Chessie.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘What would do it?’
‘Nothing that I can think of—so you might as well get right on to Joyce Cotton at Acme, although I must tell you she was at her wits’ end until I turned up.’
She watched and waited, and saw his frown deepen as he studied her. Then he said abruptly, ‘Look, it so happens I really need you for the next couple of weeks. And, since it would appear that you have been both an excellent governess and cook, I would be much obliged if you would help me out. I take back the “useless” tag unreservedly.’
Francesca was silent for a moment, because she wasn’t sure that she believed him entirely, nor was she altogether sure whether she should be doing what she was doing. Then she discovered that she still had a few things to prove to Raefe Stevensen.
‘OK, I’ll do it. For two weeks.’
‘I thought you might,’ he said drily.
‘What do you mean?’ She blinked.
‘You heard Sarah this morning, didn’t you? It’s just occurred to me we had that conversation on the lawn virtually outside your window. And, accordingly, you knew I’d be fairly desperate. I’m only surprised you didn’t ask me to grovel at your feet.’
A faint tinge of colour came to Francesca’s cheeks but she didn’t deny the charge. ‘Yes, I heard. And, yes, I decided to milk as much of an apology out of you as I could. You’re welcome to sack me for it.’
‘Why?’ he said simply.
She looked at him steadily. ‘Are we back to that? Because I still have some things to prove to you, Mr Stevensen. And one of them is that when I do walk away from Bramble your—scalp or whatever you like to call it won’t be attached to my belt.’
‘That’s a very rash statement, Chessie,’ he murmured.
‘Just wait and see.’
He considered for a moment, then said with a faint shrug and a wry little look, ‘Aren’t you at all afraid of the opposite happening?’
‘Opposite to what?’
‘Well. in light of my “unbelievable liberties”, quote unquote, mightn’t I have designs on your scalp?’
‘You know, I almost wish you would,’ she said thoughtfully, and there was a sudden glint of contempt in her eyes. ‘For the sheer pleasure of knocking you back as well as proving to you that you’re no better than the rest of them, despite the high moral tone you’ve taken with me. But in fact you’ll have to content yourself with this—one hint of any further liberties, even in anger, and I will leave you and your daughter high and dry.’
He gazed at her, then smiled suddenly. ‘It should be an interesting fortnight—but I give you my word; if you’re happy to leave me alone in that... er...direction, I shall be only too happy to do the same for you.’
The glint in Francesca’s eyes changed from contempt to anger, but Jess and Sarah came into the study at that point. And Raefe stood up to say, ‘Well, we’ve got Chessie for a while longer, at least, so why don’t you plan your trip to Brisbane, Sarah?’
CHAPTER THREE
‘I HOPE you don’t feel as if I’m—imposing,’ Sarah said that afternoon. Francesca was helping her to pack and Raefe had taken Jess for a drive to inspect stock and fences.
‘Why should I think that?’
Sarah gazed at her. ‘I just thought I detected a slight restraint in you.’
Francesca bent over the suitcase on the floor and laid a linen skirt neatly in it. ‘She’ll be fine with me, I promise you.’
‘It’s strange,’ Sarah said after a moment, ‘but I’ve got the feeling I know you, Fran. I’ve had it since we first met—silly, of course, because I’ve racked my brains and I know we haven’t ever met.’
Francesca sat back on her heels, pushed her toffee hair back and considered. Then she said, ‘You’ve probably seen me on what your brother so scathingly calls the “social pages”.’ She turned to Sarah and added levelly, ‘I’m afraid I’ve misled you.’ And she told Raefe’s sister the bare bones of how she’d come to be at Bramble Downs.
Sarah sat transfixed for half a minute as it all sank in, then she said in an awed voice, ‘You didn’t—I mean, you did, obviously, but how brave!’
Francesca grimaced. ‘Not so much brave—I have an awful temper, and impossibly high-handed ways at times—but what really annoyed me was his assumption that I was a glamorous but useless and spoilt little rich girl.’
Sarah blinked.
‘Perhaps 1 shouldn’t have told you—if it’s going to worry you,’ Francesca said after a pause. ‘But I’ll tell Jess my real name and I do promise I’ll take great care of her, I won’t let it affect her.’
Sarah came to life. ‘I’m quite sure Raefe wouldn’t do anything to affect her adversely either—she’s so precious to him. No, I’m consumed with admiration. Raefe’s got such a mind of his own—has had since he was a baby,’ she said wryly.
‘You’re not wrong,’ Francesca agreed drily.
‘You’ll probably find he admires you underneath it all,’ Sarah suggested after a moment’s thought.
Francesca stood up and smiled down at this sometimes sad woman she’d come to like a lot. ‘I wouldn’t bank on it.’
‘But-that is what you’ve set out to prove, more or less, isn’t it?’
Francesca had turned away, and was glad she had because Sarah’s words unearthed a strange feeling at the pit of her stomach. But she managed to say slowly, ‘Not to make him like me, if that’s what you mean—I don’t think we could ever see eye to eye as much as that. It’s just...’ She stopped and sighed suddenly.
‘It’s not that easy to avoid publicity with a high-profile name like mine. A lot of it is speculation—although, I have to admit, there are times when my...’ she hesitated ’...temperament leads me into falling into traps of my own making. But—oh, well...’ She shrugged.
‘And people, particularly men, can be quite dense sometimes, can’t they?’ Sarah said sombrely.
Francesca grimaced. ‘They’re certainly quite prone to believing the worst of me.’
She turned back to Sarah and they suddenly exchanged smiles of understanding that gave Francesca an oddly warm feeling.
Early the following morning a helicopter from Banyo Air landed on the lawn and Sarah left for Cairns and eventually Brisbane. Raefe, Francesca and Jess waved her off.
It was Francesca who noticed that Jess, as the little craft rose, hovered then flew away like a noisy bird, seemed to droop.
‘Why don’t we go for a swim?’ she said casually. ‘We can try some more backstroke—and don’t forget I promised to build you the biggest sandcastle in the world today!’
Jess brightened immediately, and Raefe Stevensen said, ‘Yes, why don’t we?’
Francesca turned to him abruptly with her nostrils pinched, her mouth set in a grim line, but Jess was so obviously delighted to have her father along as well that she turned away immediately and schooled herself to behave as normally as possible.
She would have been even more annoyed, although not entirely surprised, had she been able to read his mind. Because Raefe Stevensen was watching her taut back at the same time as he found himself thinking, nearly got you there, Chessie Valentine—it’s not going to be as easy as you think, is it, my beautiful termagant? I wonder how many men you have driven out of their minds with your wilful ways and that gorgeous body?
‘I can do it! I can do it!’ Jess sang excitedly, then stopped and sank as she swallowed a mouthful of water.
Raefe brought her up, spluttering. ‘The trick is probably not to talk while you’re doing it—don’t you agree, Chessie?’
Francesca nodded, and did some backstroke herself while Raefe patiently took his daughter through the motions again. The water was like pale blue glass as it stretched away to the horizon, and the sky was the same blue, while the air was starting to shimmer with heat. It should have been a pleasant experience, this swim, she mused, before the fierce power of the sun turned the water tepid. But she felt uncomfortable and tense.
Mindful of what had happened to her the previous morning, she’d put on a one-piece buttercup-yellow swimsuit—and been on the receiving end of a wickedly raised eyebrow for her pains. But, of course, the difficulty of it all was that she’d virtually given herself as a hostage to this man since making the promise she had to his sister, and not only that—she wouldn’t upset Jess, anyway—but why hadn’t she stopped to consider all the implications?
Now look here, Chessie, she reminded herself as she floated on her back, isn’t that exactly what you set out to prove? That you could remain quite unaffected by him? So why this faltering at the first fence?
She twisted over suddenly and dived beneath the surface. When she came up, it was to see that Jess and Raefe were wading through the shallows to the beach, and it all came clear to her.
There was, much as she’d like to think otherwise, an undeniable frisson between her and Raefe Stevensen. The kind of frisson that was going to make it hard for her to leave the sea with water streaming off her body and the buttercup Lycra moulding every curve of her figure—hard, that was, beneath those cool, sometimes derisive eyes.
Because she had no doubt he would be watching her, and no doubt that, whatever he might think of her shallow mind and her father’s millions, her body was not a matter of complete indifference to him. Nor, perhaps more unfortunately, were the clean, strong lines of him quite lost on her, and she knew that it would not be possible to deny the trickle of awareness that would run through her as a result of it all as she walked up the beach.
Damn, she thought. I must be mad! Why did I do this? How right was he?
It was this thought that steadied her. Because he hadn’t been right about her; she wasn’t a collector of scalps. And just recalling his words made her stiffen her spine, swim to where she could find a footing and stride out of the water with what she hoped was the appearance of complete indifference.
‘There. Big enough?’ Raefe said to Jess.
Francesca had covered herself with a white cotton shirt and a wide-brimmed straw hat by this time. Jess always wore a specially protective swimshirt over her togs to minimise the effect of the sun on her fair skin, and a floppy white hat, but Raefe was bare-shouldered and hatless as he worked away at the sandcastle.
He sat back and admired his handiwork—the castle was almost as tall as his daughter. He’d done most of the digging while Francesca and Jess had shaped it and adorned it with stones, little wild flowers gathered from the grassy verge beside the beach, and boatshaped leaves to float in the moat that surrounded it.
‘What we need is a flag,’ Francesca murmured. ‘Tell you what—it’s really getting a bit hot out here now, so why don’t we go in and do a bit of schoolwork and make a flag?’
‘Yes. Yes!’ Jess jumped up and down enthusiastically. ‘But—’ her eyes widened ‘—what happens when the tide comes in? Will it still be here?’
‘Ah,’ her father said. ‘Good point. But you’ve got at least four or five hours, because the tide’s going out now. You know...’ he looked around with a frown ‘...for years I’ve been meaning to build a sun shelter on the beach.’
‘And you were also going to build a barbecue here,’ Jess reminded him gravely, and laid a small, sandy hand on his cheek.
For some reason, Francesca saw Raefe Stevensen take a sudden breath as he gazed at the little girl. And for some equally unexplained reason he then raised his eyes to Francesca, and they were as cold as steel.
She blinked, but the moment had disappeared and he was saying wryly to Jess, ‘You’re so right, Miss Muffet. OK, I’ll start doing something about it today. Over to you, Miss Valentine,’ he added expressionlessly.
Francesca hesitated, but he got up and strolled down the beach, obviously intent on picking a site for his sun shelter and barbecue. And although Jess seemed to notice nothing amiss it was, to Francesca, an unnecessarily abrupt dismissal. But she shrugged and took Jess’s hand and they went up to the house together.
Part of the wide, screened veranda that led off Jess’s bedroom had roll-down blinds to keep out the sun, as well as sliding windows, and had also been furnished as a playroom and schoolroom in one.
There was a two-storeyed, fully furnished dolls’ house, quite old by the look of it, but well made, and Jess adored it and played with it for hours, and there was a rocking horse, an array of teddy bears in all sizes, two golliwogs, six dolls, a pram, a giraffe that was taller than Jess and a menagerie of smaller toy animals.
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