Outback Surrender. Margaret Way
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properly—as you can see. It’s a lot of work, but I really enjoy the tourist parties. I get a huge amount of pleasure out of my work, too. It was a Japanese lady who spent a lot of time showing me how to wield a vegetable knife to make all the beautiful garnishes that adorn Japanese food platters. Now, she was an artist. She could make anything of simple vegetables, flowers, leaves, little ornaments—you name it. Just give her a lemon or a lime, a cucumber, a radish, mushroom, zucchini, baby squash. It was marvellous just to watch her.”
“I expect it took her years to master the technique.”
She nodded. “Getting to know the Japanese and their language has been a real experience. Learning to prepare Japanese food is one good way of entering the culture.”
“So you’re open to all outside influences? Though Australia nowadays is very much part of Asia. You really are the hostess with the mostest!”
“I try to be. We desperately need our paying guests. I’ve been trying to talk one of our aboriginal stockmen, a tribal elder, into taking the guests for bush walks to the Wybourne caves. They’re so careful and appreciative of the fragile environment. So far Dad has kept him busy, but it would take a lot off me.”
“It sounds like you relish a challenge, Shelley?” Brock tilted his wine glass, watching the fine beads rising.
“Especially when the challenge pays off. I suppose it’s far too early for you to formulate any plans—unless you intend to return to Ireland?” She prepared herself to be tremendously disappointed if he said yes.
“My plan is to take over the Kingsley chain.”
At his tone she inhaled deeply. There was such bitterness in his brilliant eyes. “Forgive me, Brock, but is that possible?” she dared ask. “There’s Philip after all.”
“I don’t take partners,” he said, with a very sardonic expression.
Something about him scared her. “Then I’ll pray for you.”
“Do that.” Suddenly he smiled, an illuminating flash like a ray of sunshine through storm clouds. “I may need it. Please don’t look at me with fear in your eyes, Shelley Logan.”
“I’m fearful for you,” she said. “How could your grandfather possibly change?”
He gripped the stem of the wine glass so tightly she though it might shatter. “Maybe he’s discovered he’s got a conscience after all.”
“You believe he means to reinstate you in his will?” She was very aware of the shift in his mood.
He nodded, though his mouth had a sceptical twist. “I’m always troubled by my grandfather’s motives, Shelley. On the face of it he’s told me he wants a reconciliation, but he’s always been the most devious of men. Maybe it’s another cruel joke. Maybe he’s a little mad these days. Pain is tearing his body to pieces. Guilt his mind. He was even talking of going to Ireland to visit my mother’s grave. He’ll never get there.”
“He’s that bad?” Shelley waited quietly for his reply.
“Even if he survived the journey he knows what kind of a reception he’d get from my mother’s people and all the friends we made. He put my mother through dreadful anguish. Though she eventually found peace I’m sure all those terrible years took their toll.”
“He must have loved her once.”
His answer was suave and cutting. “My grandfather knows nothing about love, Shelley.”
“I’m so terribly sorry, Brock. Maybe you shouldn’t have come back when there’s so much turbulence inside you.”
“There was no alternative,” he answered, as though her comment had touched a raw nerve. “Can you see it? The turbulence?”
“I’m sad to say yes!” She spoke truthfully, even if it wasn’t something he cared to hear. “I’ve been watching you all night.” It was there in the tautness of his features, the way his hands tended to clench whenever his grandfather’s name was mentioned.
“Then no doubt you’re right!” His voice was suave. “There’s no help for my bitterness, I’m afraid, but Mulgaree is part of me. It’s my turn to close in. And no way am I going to allow Philip and Frances to cut me out.”
“Am I saying the wrong thing every time I open my mouth?” she asked wryly. “I do understand your feelings, Brock, but you must have considered Philip has a legitimate claim? He’s Rex Kingsley’s grandson too. You really couldn’t tolerate sharing Mulgaree?”
He reached out suddenly and grasped her hand. It sent shock waves racing down her arm. “Philip, my dear Shelley, isn’t competent to run Mulgaree, let alone the whole chain. Consider that. I’ve only been back a couple of days and it’s perfectly plain Philip can’t manage. He doesn’t know how to use his power, position or money. He’s no good with the men. You can’t demand respect; you have to earn it. It wouldn’t take him long to lose what Kingsley has built up. Using part of the Brockway fortune, I’ll remind you.” His jaw looked tight enough to crack.
“Brock, you’re hurting me.”
“I’m sorry.” He released her hand immediately, still with the glint in his eyes.
“How bad is your grandfather?” She well remembered a big, handsome, scowling, arrogant man.
He glanced away. “He tells me his heart has got a hell of a big leak in it, his brain’s on the edge and cancer is eating away at his stomach. His death could be any time, damn him.”
She gave an involuntary little shudder. “That sounds so harsh and unforgiving.”
His eyes burned over her. “If it is, it’s the result of his treatment of me and my mother. Sorry, Shelley.” He shrugged. “I’m too far gone for a sweet little thing like you to reform me.”
“I’m not all that sweet,” she said briskly. “Not for a long time. Like you, I’m capable of holding deep resentments. I’m only saying don’t let your grief and your bitterness gobble you up. Then your grandfather will win. You could even end up like him.”
“What a thought!” he said tautly. “And yet you can say it to my face!”
“The truth isn’t always what we want to hear. I’m sorry if I upset you, Brock. It wasn’t my intention.”
His handsome mouth twisted. “It wasn’t? For a little bit of a thing you pack quite a punch. But then I expect you know as much about bitterness as I do. Didn’t your family condemn you?”
It was her turn to suffer. “You have a cruel streak.” She gazed at him with expressive green eyes.
“So be warned.”
“And don’t you intrude upon my inner world either,” Shelley continued, doing her best to ignore the sexual tension that simmered between them.
He answered in an ironic voice. “Shelley, both our lives might just as well have been splashed across the front pages of the town gazette. Everyone knows our history.”
“How could they not?” she countered, with a touch of his own bitterness. “Sometimes I think I’ll never be free. Losing my twin in such tragic circumstances has coloured my life grey.”
“Then you have to change it.” He spoke emphatically. “No one with flame-coloured hair should ever lead a dull life. You can’t let your family cage you. You’re entitled to a life of your own. But hopefully not with my cousin. That would be too, too awful.”
Brock looked up, and as he did so vertical lines appeared between his black brows.
“Speak of the devil!” he groaned. “You’re not going to believe this, but Philip is on his way over to our table.”
“No!” Mechanically she turned her head. “Oh, my goodness!”
“Exactly,”