The Nanny and the Millionaire

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, sir,’ Riley rasped.

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

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

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

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

‘What sort of job?’ he asked crisply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I don’t know your surname, Marissa.’

‘It’s Devlin. I thought I told you.’

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

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

‘Like what?’

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

‘You’re remarkably alike.’

‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wasn’t that a bit odd?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Don’t think about it like that.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘So?’ He stared straight into her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I said—’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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