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“So why have you come here, Casey?” Curt asked, suddenly in Guardian mode.
She flashed that startling blue glance at him. “Why, to get to know my family of course.”
“But Casey,” Adam said gently, “we don’t know that you are family. Despite the remarkable resemblance, Darcy and Courtney have to have proof. We all do.”
“Sure, you’re a lawyer,” Casey said. “Just wait till you hear my story.”
They did over dinner. After their visitor downed a cold beer, Darcy had shown her to a recently refurbished guest room, leaving her to get the dust and the grime of her journey off her and settle in.
“I always knew this was going to happen,” Darcy confided to Courtney. “It has an inevitability about it. Dad had so many affairs. The only thing I got wrong was I thought it would be a son.”
“Watch out, there’s still time,” Courtney warned. “Any number could pop out of the woodwork. If Casey has waited until now, she probably read about Dad’s death in the papers. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Sure.” Darcy didn’t sound worried. “She wants money. But she has to prove her identity first.”
“She looks pretty authentic to me,” Courtney said. “Fact is, I kind of like her though she’s not the sweetest young woman I’ve ever met. And that handshake! For a minute I was frightened she was going to toss me over her shoulder.”
“She could do it, too.” Darcy’s aquamarine eyes looked into the middle distance. “I have the feeling Casey has done it hard. But she’s never let anything stop her. I figure she’s a fighter.”
“So do I,” Courtney agreed with some feeling. “You don’t think she’s here to threaten us?”
“Let’s wait and see,” Darcy advised.
“Sorry I couldn’t run to a dress,” Casey said, eyeing the other women. Pretty as a picture, Courtney had on something ultra-feminine in a lovely shade of violet. It floated on the air. Darcy, who was unmistakably a beauty, wore an outfit not unlike her own. A silk shirt over lean designer jeans. Casey loved the way Darcy carried her tall slender body with confident grace. She looked as at home in her body as Casey was in hers. Marian, the mother—probably Courtney would look just like her at the same age—hardly looked old enough to have two grown up daughters. She, too, was a pretty sight, calm and gentle with tender blue eyes. As a type she wasn’t unlike her own mother. A cloud drifted over Casey’s face. Her mother, too, had been a very pretty woman before poverty, unhappiness and the drugs she couldn’t live without had changed all that.
As for the men! Berenger, the Outback aristocrat. Very impressive. Maynard, the lawyer, suave as James Bond. Peter, the second husband, a nice man but beside McIvor in his prime, hardly worth looking at.
It surprised Casey little five-feet-two-and-a-bit Courtney was the cook. And a very good cook as it turned out. They ate well and deliciously. Casey didn’t peck at her food daintily like Marian, who seemed to her a fragile person. She tucked in because she was hungry. She was always hungry since she’d made her escape from The Home. At any time she led a very active life. Her long journey into the Back O’Beyond had been exhausting. They left her alone until the main course of melt-in-the-mouth spiced loin of lamb with pine nuts served over a bed of spinach was taken away and little strawberry jellies with ice cream were brought in. Then the inquisition started just as she expected.
“When did you first find out Jock McIvor was your father?” Maynard asked, his keen dark eyes sweeping over her. “Did your mother tell you?”
“No, she didn’t,” she said briskly.
“You have your birth certificate?”
“I didn’t think I needed one since I’m so obviously here,” she answered facetiously.
“You need your birth certificate for many things, Casey,” Darcy intervened quietly. “Why don’t you tell us your story in your own words.”
Casey finished her strawberry jelly first. It was very refreshing. “It’s not a pretty story,” she said.
Nothing was pretty around our father, Courtney thought.
“You don’t need Peter and me here,” Marian spoke in a wobbly voice, looking uncertainly around the table. This stunning-looking creature might well resent their presence. Casey McGuire had a combative air about her. Marian was much more at home with a sweetness of manner like her beloved Courtney.
“Mumma, please stay.” Courtney put out a staying hand.
“Very well, dear.”
As she spoke Casey could see their faces change. She told them about her early life in far North Queensland. She spoke about her mother with a tightened throat. She could see that upset them. She skimmed over The Home, her voice emotionless. She told them how she’d set about getting an education. Of the courses she had taken, the jobs that included waitressing, cleaning, drawing beer in pubs, unloading trucks, working in nurseries where she’d picked up quite a lot of information about horticulture, finally her career as a singer-songwriter.
“Is this your future? Is this what you want to do?” Courtney asked, sparked by interest. Listening to her speak, there was no doubt Casey McGuire had a voice.
“Maybe.” Casey shrugged. “I’m getting to like the writing more than the singing.”
“So when did you find out Jock was your father if your mother didn’t tell you?” Curt asked, disturbed by her story. Especially what she hadn’t said about the orphanage. That in itself spoke volumes.
“An old friend of my mother’s,” Casey answered. “It seems she’d been suffering from the guilts for years. She knew of my mother’s affair and her leaving home in disgrace. Some time later she saw my mother and Jock McIvor together. A few days after that she saw him again on television, being interviewed about something in the bush. She put two and two together. It must have cost her a big effort because she took years and years before she decided to track down my mother. By then, of course, my mother was dead.”
“As was Jock,” Curt said quietly. “The way you tell it it’s impossible not to believe your story, Casey—a very sad story—but it doesn’t actually prove Jock was your father.”
“Dig him up,” she suggested, her heart slamming. She’d just told them Jock McIvor had destroyed her mother’s life.
Marian looked appalled. “How old are you, Casey?” She swallowed on emotion.
“Twenty-four. A few months younger than Courtney here.”
It fitted, Marian thought dismally. Jock had had no time for her when she was pregnant. Not with Darcy. Not with Courtney. She recalled his numerous city trips at those times.
“I’ve done a lot of research on Jock McIvor,” Casey was saying. “He was a serial adulterer. Sorry if I offend anybody.” She didn’t look sorry. In fact she looked like she’d desperately needed to say it.
“We don’t need the late Mr McIvor to prove paternity,” Adam said, scanning their visitor closely but with discretion. “We can compare your DNA with that of Darcy’s or Courtney’s. What is it you want, Ms McGuire?”
Casey turned her torso towards him. “My due. I’m well aware Jock McIvor was a rich man. I’ve read all about the McIvor heiresses. They can’t spend it all. Jock McIvor made it so hard for my mother to survive, she gave up on life. I’m not about to do the same. I want restitution for the sins of the past.”
“You’re nothing if not honest,” said Adam.
“Isn’t there a saying an honest lawyer is an oxymoron?” Casey shot back.
To his credit Adam laughed. “Touché. First Darcy and Courtney together with Curt and I as trustees would have to discuss the whole situation. Then we would suggest DNA testing. It could be arranged. It would take some time to get results of tests, say blood samples back. Tests would have to be sent to a lab in Brisbane.”
“I’m in no hurry!” Casey answered promptly. “After all I’ve waited all my life.” She looked across the table at Darcy, in some way deferring to her as did Courtney. “This is one magnificent homestead you’ve got here, Darcy. You could turn it into a hotel. I was wondering if I could stay a while before continuing on my way?”
Darcy stared back. This young woman who claimed to be their half sister had McIvor’s riveting sapphire eyes with their bright look of challenge. But Darcy recognised suffering when she saw it. Casey was covering it well, but there was a haunting in their brilliant depths. “Whether you prove to be our half sister or not, Casey, you can stay,” she said gently.
Casey smiled crookedly. “Tell you what, Darcy. You’ve got a heart.”
At Adam’s signal Courtney followed him out into the starry night on the pretext of reading the constellations in the desert sky.
“That’s an extraordinary story Casey had to tell.” Adam took her elbow as they walked down the short flight of steps to the home gardens. The palm of his hand only touched the point of her elbow, yet the thrill shocked her.
“You’re not sure if you believe it?” Why would he? He had doubted her when she had returned to Murraree at the bequest of her dying father. It was almost as though they were back to square one.
“Why do you say that?”
Her voice was ironic. “You’re a very careful man.”
“Courtney, I have to be. Ms McGuire on the surface appears to be who she says she is. But at this point we don’t know. It has to be checked out.”
She took a harsh breath. “Of course. But if what she’s saying is true, while Mum was pregnant with me my womanising father was busy impregnating her mother.”
“The story is far from new,” he answered sardonically.
“Then who knows how many more might turn up?” Courtney burst out, then quickly bit her tongue.
Adam shrugged. “I have to admit it’s a worry. The coverage of your father’s death would have a lot to do with Casey’s coming forward.”
“I do wish they’d stop calling Darcy and me the McIvor heiresses.” She made a little impatient gesture with her hand.
“Actually the label fits. You are heiresses.”
“And we’re so grateful we have you to look after us, Adam,” Courtney spoke with exaggerated sweetness that stopped just short of anger. “I hid a smile when she took a crack at you. What was it? An honest lawyer is an oxymoron?”
“Heard it before,” he said casually. “There are all kinds of jokes about lawyers. Here’s one. Two lawyers were lost in the woods when they were confronted by a dangerous bear. One quickly removed his running shoes from his bag and put them on. The other stared at him. ‘You can’t outrun that bear.’ The guy replied, ‘I don’t have to outrun the bear. I just have to outrun you.’”
Courtney laughed, but inside she was feeling decidedly on edge. Just when they were all settling down, an alleged long lost half sister turns up Adam’s reaction, adding fuel to her ingrained wariness of him. “There’s something very likeable about her, don’t you think?” she questioned. “Something brave and strong. I can understand the rage in her heart about Dad and what happened to her mother. How very tragic. Casey is very confrontational. I suppose she’d have to be, given her sad life, but I can’t help liking her. Darcy does, too.”
“Maybe the answer is blood,” Adam suggested. Casey McGuire was a very striking young woman but she wasn’t his cup of tea. His cup of tea was a blue eyed blonde who didn’t even come up to his shoulder. One, moreover, who didn’t trust him. “I’d say she’s a very tough, determined young woman. She could be hiding a lot.”
“Like me?” Heat burned in her cheeks, making her feel glad of the star spangled darkness.
“No, not like you,” he said.
“Goodness knows you were suspicious enough of me,” Courtney continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “For all I know you still are.”
“You can’t let that lie, can you?” He looked down at her halo of curls that managed to shine even at night.
“Sometimes I can, but now and again the memory peeks out. How you thought I unduly influenced Dad. The way you were ready to believe my ex-work mate’s story of how I boasted I was going to twist a dying man around my little finger?”
“Ah, Courtney,” he sighed. “The truth is whether you wanted to or not, you did.”
Courtney tried hard to check her anger. After all, she had started this herself. “Typical lawyer’s response. Now you have Casey’s story to contend with. She covers up well but I think she’s been dreadfully hurt.”
“Which says a great deal for her survival skills. That’s if her story’s right,” he cautioned. “If it is, there can be no doubt she’s suffered. The nightmare of her mother’s death and state homes aren’t fun places. The question is did your father know of her mother’s pregnancy? Did she contact him?”
“Maybe she felt she couldn’t,” Courtney, always tender-hearted, answered painfully. “Nobody there for her. Wanting to hide. She could have known he was married with a child. Who knows what he told her. Maybe he waited until she was entirely in his power before he told her and by then it was too late. He could even have told her he was single or let her assume he was. Casey didn’t say.”
“Casey was deliberately vague.” Adam said, holding a palm frond up and away from her face. “Or she couldn’t bear to speak about it. Your father could be ruthless but I don’t think he would have abandoned Casey’s mother because she was pregnant. He could have come to her aid in some shape or form. He could very easily have given her money to see her through.”
“Maybe she didn’t want money?” Courtney suggested, part of her thinking that might have been the answer. “She wanted him. She must have been madly in love with him. After all, she cut all her ties with her family for some kind of half life he promised her. She was young and she must have been a very vulnerable, needy person. Dad tired of her early.”
“There’s plenty of evidence that was his way,” Adam said tonelessly.
“So it all started out very badly for Casey. She must have had an awful time at school. Born and raised in a little town where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Her mother wasn’t married and that carried a social stigma. No money. Then her extraordinary stand out looks. She’s even taller than Darcy.”
“But very female,” Adam said dryly. “At this stage, Courtney, it would be a fatal mistake to swallow every word she’s said. As remarkably as Casey resembles your father, such chance resemblances aren’t unheard of. We’ve all seen people who could be someone else’s double.”
“Except she’d realise we would want proof?”
“Not necessarily.” He led her towards a stone garden bench. “Women are notorious for plucking the heartstrings. Her story is just bad enough to earn her a lot of sympathy and possibly a reluctance to press her further.”
“Well not sympathy from you,” she said sharply. “You have ice in your veins.”
“I could change that opinion if you want.”
She listened for derision. Heard none. Instead the sensual note in his voice caused a sudden flush of heat that coursed through her body. “I don’t want, Adam. I don’t want any complications.”
A half smile lifted a corner of his chiselled mouth. “My sentiments as well, Courtney,” he said suavely, pulling out a handkerchief and dusting off the area of bench where she intended to sit in her very pretty dress. “I wouldn’t like it to be said I took advantage of an heiress. After all, it’s what your father most feared.”
Sweet smelling desert plants were flowering nearby. They filled the air with their fragrance. This area of the garden was secluded and still, full of shadows, with deep pockets of darkness. It was moonless but the stars were out in all their powerful brilliance, as beautiful as she had ever seen. Diamonds in a black-velvet sky. Beautiful, beautiful precious gems. She searched for the familiar clusters. Crux Australis, the Southern Cross, Triangulum Australe, the Southern Triangle, Corona Australis, the Southern Crown. They hung so low in the sky she felt like putting up a hand and pulling one down.
Catch a falling star. Make a wish.
What would it be? To find the man she wanted to share her life with? Was he already beside her? A cooling breeze had sprung up ruffling her hair. Little nocturnal creatures were scuttling about the garden. She felt all sensation. He made her that way. Presently to break the electric silence that had fallen between them she said, “My father showed compassion at the end, though, didn’t he? He wanted to see me. He wanted to provide for me. I just can’t go on believing there was no good in him. That he was totally without conscience or genuine feeling.”
“Don’t fret, Courtney.” Gently he touched her shoulder. His arm had been leaning on the back of the bench behind her. “He wasn’t. At the same time he turned the tables on Darcy who had devoted her life to him. Curt and I have become good friends. Curt makes no bones about the fact McIvor did everything in his power to keep Darcy tied to him and away from Curt, who’s always loved her.”
She felt guilty about that when she didn’t need to feel guilty. “Now that I do believe. Darcy carried the burden, I know. I had a peaceful life with Mum. Lots of love and understanding. But Darcy was the one our father wanted. Not me. He would have crushed the life out of me. Just as he did my mother.” Tears burned behind her eyes but she defied them to fall.
“I think not,” Adam answered firmly, turning his dark head. “There’s not much of you but I think you would have triumphed, Courtney. You have your own gutsy core.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.” There was a faint edge to her voice.
“Why not?” His finger lightly brushed one of her bright curls. “Haven’t I complimented you before?” He studied her enchanting profile.
He had kissed her, too. Rocking her to her foundations. “I’d better answer carefully, seeing you’re a lawyer. I believe you told me I looked beautiful at the polo ball.”
“Which you did. You wove magic. A trick women have.”
“Trick?” She risked a glance at him. Saw the glitter of his eyes. “Sometimes I think a woman hurt you badly. A woman who looked a bit like me.” What if he still loved that woman, Courtney thought. What if?
“Now you’ve caught me out,” Adam said smoothly. “I was going for a time with a blue-eyed blonde. An associate in another law firm. She was very bright and very attractive, but nowhere near as lovely as you.”
“So what happened?” His voice told her at one time this other girl had mattered.
“The usual thing. She cheated on me. I didn’t like that. Especially as she’d already moved in with me. She swore it hadn’t meant anything. A one night stand. She’d had a few drinks and one thing led to another. It was apparent she couldn’t be trusted. Maybe if I’d really loved her I’d have been prepared to forgive her. As it was, we broke up.”
“You mean you broke it up.” She could just see him doing it. Clinical, dispassionate, shutting the door on his true feelings.
“Don’t be so hard on me, Courtney,” he groaned. “I take fidelity seriously. Don’t you?”
“I’ve never actually lived with anyone,” she said. “How long were you together?” It was very unsettling, these fierce stabs of jealousy.
“Pray tell, what is this?” He turned her face towards him, a finger on her chin. “Jealous?”
He was so mocking. So arrogant. “I’d prefer to say making conversation.” Now her palm itched to hit him.
“Is that what it is?”
“Better to stick to conversation,” she said.
“When a beautiful woman is born to be kissed?” He drew her to her feet and confounded her by rocking her gently in his arms. “It’s been far too long, Courtney.”
Had he spoken those exact lines to that other woman? Had he turned her heart upside down? Of course he had, he had perfected the art. Then he had left her. Was he telling the truth about that affair or just avoiding the real reason because he thought she would buy it? “If that’s a prompt for a goodnight kiss, Adam, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
His dark voice mocked. “But you know you won’t.”
He didn’t kiss her mouth at first, he kissed her eyelids. Then her cheek. Beneath her ear. She couldn’t summon up the strength to stop him. She was already in too deep.
“Why did I wait so long?”
She didn’t want him to wait. It was mad, perhaps ill advised, but she was wild for him.
His mouth found her own. His kiss, slow and very thorough. It robbed her of breath. She broke it with a little gasp but instead of releasing her he pulled her even closer, folding her petite body into his like a piece of origami. “You’re interfering with my work, Ms McIvor,” he said huskily.
“How is that?” Her own voice was ragged.
“It’s hard to get a grip on a client’s problem when you’re thinking of someone else.” He bent his head to her again. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her tender mouth, then the soft inner cushion.
Her whole body, her entire network of nerves, was thrumming like high voltage electricity wires. “I can’t believe you think of me, Adam?” She fought from going under. In too short a time Adam Maynard had gained a real hold on her. There was an inherent danger in that.
“Why is that?” He continued to taste her mouth and her skin as though they were ambrosial.
“A certain way you look at me hasn’t changed.” She voiced her deep concern.
That gave him pause. “Explain.”
Tension began to vibrate like plucked strings. “The way we began. The lack of trust.”
“We’re not back to that,” he groaned. “I was just trying to do my job, Courtney.”
“Perhaps, but the fact is, the look’s still there. It slips out from time to time. It distresses me.”
Anger blazed up unexpectedly. “What else about me distresses you? Obviously not being in my arms. You let me kiss you like you couldn’t live without it.”
It was true. She opened up to him like a flower. But she wasn’t thinking. She was feeling. “How do I know you’re not on track to seduce me?” She had a sudden impulse to turn the tables. “It would be worth your while. I’m sure you make a lot of money as a full partner in your firm, but I’m an heiress, aren’t I?” Immediately as she said it she was ashamed of the ploy. It was unworthy. A last ditch attempt to regain a little control. Adam wasn’t a dishonourable man.
“Don’t say any more, Courtney,” he said tightly. “You’ve gone far enough.” Never had a woman got to him so hard and fast. Never had a woman so insulted him.
It was a blow at his manhood. He hauled her back into his arms. Held her captive. This time the kiss punished.
Next morning Adam left on his journey back to Brisbane, leaving them both estranged.
It was 8:40 before Casey woke with brilliant sunlight streaming in from the verandah. For a few disoriented moments she couldn’t think where she was. She’d never slept in such a beautiful room in her life. Never slept between crisp white sheets that puffed up an exquisite aroma as she moved. It wasn’t any fragrance she knew. Not the usual lavender, gardenia or rose. She would have to ask what it was.
She swung her long legs out of the bed, curling her toes on the pale green carpet. The guest room had such a fresh airy feel. It had only just been redecorated, she’d been told. The wallpaper was a wide cream and pale green stripe. The drapes a cream sheer that moved gently in the breeze. The circular bedside tables were covered in the same soft green, almost a lime. Taffeta decorated around the hem with silk tassels, matching the shades on the bedside lamps. The quilt and the scatter cushions introduced harmonious pinks and blues. Very good watercolours hung on the walls. There was a daybed, near the French doors and an upholstered bench at the end of the bed. A little writing table with a chair.
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