Home To Eden. Margaret Way
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wish.” His sidelong glance was deadly serious. “I think your mother had a few concerns Joel was too much around you.”
Nicole couldn’t restrain herself. She threw out a hand, clasping his strong wrist as hard as she could.
“Don’t do that, Nicole.” He shook her off, suddenly seeing a vision of his uncle behind the wheel, the beautiful woman beside him, striking out in anger, perhaps making a dangerous grab for—
“You make me so angry!”
“You always did have a temper,” he observed grimly. Something she shared with her mother?
“Well, you arm yourself with your tongue, I think. You’re making up all this business about Joel.”
“I don’t make things up, Nicole. You should know better.”
“But Joel and I were reared together. He’s my first cousin.”
“So he is. Maybe he finds that a problem. He can’t focus on anyone else.”
She averted her head. “Why do you hate Joel?”
“I don’t hate him. I don’t hate anyone. But even when we were kids, he was never harmless.”
“What do you mean?” Oddly she half understood.
“You’re never going to get your head out of the sand, are you.”
“Are you implying something was wrong?” She found the whole subject too difficult to deal with.
“Of course not. But didn’t your mother who spoke to you of so many things ever suggest to you Joel was too dependent on your company, your affection?”
“No, she didn’t!” Nicole’s answer was vehement. “What have you got Joel pegged as now? An incestuous psycho?” Had her mother ever mentioned something on the subject? If she had, Nicole was unwilling to open the door of her memories even a crack.
“First cousins can and do marry. Forgive me, it’s just that I’m not comfortable with Joel. I never was. I remember him forever hovering, always wanting to know what we were talking about. He was right there at the race meeting in June. Hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Probably thinking he should break us up. Joel really cares about me.”
“We all know that. Nevertheless, a word of warning won’t go astray now you’re back on Eden.”
Her mind turned over his words, rejected them. “Why oh why do people get things so wrong?”
“I’m only trying to put you on guard. The protective streak I developed a very long time ago.”
“If there’s any threat to me, it could come from you,” she said quietly. “We both know you’d like Eden. You’d like the Minareechi.” She referred to Eden’s largest, deepest, permanent stream that in flood turned into a tremendous sheet of water, the breeding ground for huge colonies of nomadic waterbirds.
He said nothing, so she continued, “You’d like to add it to the McClelland chain?”
Finally he spoke, his tone mild. “I’d be right there if Eden ever came on the market. Why not? If I didn’t get it, someone else would. Has someone been dropping little hints in your ear, Nic?” He shocked her by using his childhood name for her. “Most probably Sigrid, while she was delivering the news that your father had returned.”
“Siggy’s no fool,” Nicole said.
“I’ll happily acknowledge that. But Eden has gone down, Nicole, you have to admit. It’s no longer the same as it was in your grandfather’s time. Sigrid does her best, but she’s no replacement for Sir Giles. Her husband is little use to her. Alan’s an odd bird, actually. You could know him for years and years and yet never really know him. And Joel isn’t performing well as manager. You must have felt the weight of that when you were last here. He’s arrogant. He has a harsh tongue on him. He’s devoted to heavy arguments, instead of getting on with the job. Eden has had trouble holding on to good men. I’d say that was testament to Joel’s style of management.”
“No doubt you’ve poached them away,” she accused him, perturbed by the truth of what he was saying.
“As it happens, three of your stockmen found work on Kooltar in the last couple of months. One of them said your cousin scared the hell out of him.”
Color flew into her cheeks. “Is this an all-out attack on Joel?”
“If that’s how you see it. Ask around, Nicole,” he suggested grimly. “Joel has developed quite a reputation for violence. There was an incident in Koomera Crossing that left the locals pretty disturbed. A bar fight. Apparently unprovoked. It took four men to hold Joel down. He’s been barred from Mick Donovan’s.”
Her whole body tensed. “So he crossed the line once. He’s aggressive, just like all men are. Why are you telling me this?”
“For the obvious reason you need to know. Your cousin Joel isn’t Eden’s future.”
“Eden belongs to me.”
“Are you sure you want it?” His words were very direct.
“Of course I want it. Eden’s my heritage. It’s in my blood.”
“But you prefer to live in New York?”
“You think that means I don’t love and miss my home?” She stared at his strong profile. “New York has been my safe haven. It’s a fabulous place. A city I’ve come to know and love. The city and its people. All the more so since September 11. I have wonderful friends there who’ve helped me rebuild my life. I take my painting seriously. I’m becoming known. I’m making an impression.”
“So I’ve heard.” His voice was filled with admiration.
“How? Through the family?”
His response was ironic. “I told you, I don’t have casual conversations with any members of your family. I have my own sources.”
Her tone was caustic. “They’re usually called moles.”
“We were all desperately concerned for your safety after we discovered the full extent of the destruction in New York. I was glad of my moles then. So, believe it or not, was Callista. Are you returning to the States?”
She took a deep breath, staring down at her locked hands. “Not for a while, Drake. There are things I need to address. Conflicts and identifications. Perspectives.” Maybe even Joel’s problematic impulsiveness.
“If solving once and for all who your biological father is, the answer is at hand. For all you say, Nicole, you have no real hope of moving forward until you face the truth.”
JOEL WAS THERE to greet her when they landed. Tall and lanky, broad shoulders, dressed in jeans and a bush shirt, high boots on his feet, a black akubra rammed on his sun-streaked blond head. No one who saw them together would recognize them as blood relatives, Nicole thought. She was a Cavanagh, while Joel took after his father, Alan. They both had narrow heads, narrow faces, and sharp regular features that could look foxy on occasions.
“Are you going to speak to Joel? Try to patch things between you?” Nicole asked Drake, her tone with a certain appeal in it.
“No chance! We’ve never really communicated.”
“Oh, please, Drake.”
Her look of anxiety weighed on him. “I can’t see it doing much good, but okay.”
“God, what an honor! The great Drake McClelland!” Joel approached at a lope, glittery-eyed, confrontational, despite his lopsided grin. He opened his arms wide for Nicole to walk into them.
It was so much easier to do so than not, regardless of what Drake had said about Joel. “The prodigal returns.”
His kiss of