The Unconventional Bride. Lindsay Armstrong
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Even Justin is impressed,’ she added.
‘As a matter of fact, he came to see me about getting a part-time job last week.’
Mel’s eyes widened. ‘He didn’t tell me that!’
‘He—er—never shared your dislike, mistrust or whatever it was of me.’
Mel coloured but it was true. Despite their initial opposition to sharing their father with a stepmother, none of the boys, for that matter, had continued their resentment of Margot nor applied it to Etienne. None of them had realised how the property was going downhill either, she reminded herself drily.
‘Did you give him a job?’
‘I told him I would have one for him in the next school holidays, with your approval.’
‘That’s very good of you,’ Mel said.
‘Getting back to the boys,’ Etienne said, I—’
Mel scraped back her chair and stood up. ‘Etienne, I appreciate your concern but it’s really not your problem.’
Batman pricked up his ears.
Etienne looked down at him then up at Mel. Her expression was one of pride and dignity and it came to him that she could be exasperating at times. It also came to him that in some respects she’d led a very sheltered life, cocooned amongst her family and on Raspberry Hill, and might be less worldly than a lot of girls of her age.
Yet, contrary to what he’d expected, the attraction he’d experienced the day of the funeral was still there. Even looking so proud and unreasonably stubborn, she stirred him. The line of her throat fascinated him. The way she squared her shoulders, always a preliminary to saying something designed to tell him he wasn’t liked or trusted even if not in so many words, drew his attention to the curves of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist and the flare of her hips.
Was she at all aware of the effect she had on him, though? he wondered. What would her reaction be if he revealed his preoccupation with her figure?
‘OK,’ he said, ostensibly to the dog. ‘I rest my case—for the time being. But if you need me, just let me know.’
‘I will,’ Mel agreed.
‘And now I really must go,’ he said politely but with a glint in his eye that indicated to her he knew she was barely able to wait to get rid of him. ‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ he added, by way, she was quite sure, of adding salt to the wound.
‘I’ll pass your thanks on to Mrs Bedwell. It was all her doing,’ she replied with excessive politeness of her own.
He put Batman down and got up. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, Mel,’ he said softly.
Although she was five feet eight, he was a head taller, which put her at a disadvantage she rarely suffered. It didn’t stop her from saying haughtily, however, ‘Such as?’ as if it was inconceivable she should do anything she might regret.
But as he took his time about answering she realised her heart was beating a little erratically and that strange mixture of excitement and wariness was coursing through her veins again. Why? she wondered. How could he, just by looking at her in a certain way, produce this result in her?
He wasn’t even looking at her in that certain way right now, not as if he had her trapped in his sights as a woman to ponder about. If anything, he was looking down at her with lazy amusement, which didn’t, most unfairly, stop her new awareness of him flooding her.
‘Such as kicking the dog,’ he said softly.
‘I’ve never kicked a dog in my life!’
‘You just had that look about you. But there’s no reason to be incensed over anything,’ he raised an eyebrow, ‘that I know of.’
She set her teeth then unset them. ‘Goodbye, Etienne.’
‘Au revoir, Mel; not quite the same thing.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOU didn’t tell me you’d asked Etienne for a job in your holidays, Justin.’
‘I was going to present it to you as a fait accompli.’
The two younger boys were in bed and Mel and Justin were watching television in the den, the one room in the house that had escaped Margot’s make-over. The one room where you didn’t have to be careful of the furniture, could eat snacks and drink drinks with impunity and no one cared if you put your feet up on the battered old leather couch.
‘Why? I mean, why couldn’t you have told me?’
Justin was tall for his age, exceedingly bright and he had Mel’s blue eyes and chestnut hair. He flicked the remote and changed the channel, causing his sister to grit her teeth.
‘You’re not always reasonable on the subject of the Hurst family, beloved,’ he said, and went on flicking through the channels.
Mel grabbed the remote from him and switched the television off.
‘See what I mean?’ Justin offered.
‘That had nothing to do with the Hursts,’ she denied. ‘I can’t stand the way you switch from programme to programme!’
‘Only to avoid the ads.’
‘I like the ads; well, not precisely but,’ she looked heavenwards, ‘whatever, can we just talk?’
‘OK. It occurred to me that we have a few financial problems and that, as the oldest male, I should try and buck in and help.’
‘Fair enough,’ Mel said slowly, ‘but why Etienne?’
‘You may not know this, Mel, but he’s very successful. He took advantage of Gladstone being the largest port in Queensland and the fourth largest in the country to build up a marine-engineering works and a shipping agency.’
‘Granted,’ she said slowly.
Despite only being a medium-sized town in a rural area, the port of Gladstone handled millions of tonnes of coal, bauxite, alumina and other minerals and substances. It offered a deep-water port protected by close offshore islands, it was only ten or twelve days’ distance from the Asia Pacific region and was endowed with plenty of energy resources—water, coal and natural gas.
‘But still—why Etienne?’ she asked.
Justin looked at her ironically. ‘How many other millionaires do we know, Mel? Not only that but he’s also almost part of the family.’
Mel opened her mouth to deny this but closed it immediately.
‘How bad are things, Mel?’ Justin said into the silence.
‘Not good,’ she conceded.
‘Mrs B told me he came to lunch today.’
‘Mrs B invited him to lunch—well, he did come out to see how we were going.’
‘I never could work out what you’ve got against him!’
‘You’re not a girl,’ she retorted.
‘Plenty of girls find him irresistible, so I hear—is that it?’ Justin enquired. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve always had a crush on him!’
‘I have not,’ Mel contradicted. ‘And from what I’ve heard they’re not precisely girls either.’
‘Women, then,’ Justin said, ‘or whatever the technical term is. What have you heard?’
She shrugged. ‘You know that lighthouse he’s leased and renovated? Apparently there’s been a stream of gorgeous, sophisticated, definitely women more than happy to spend time with him up there.’
‘What a glorious thought!’ Justin laid his head on the settee. ‘I’ll have to ask him how he does it.’