Читать книгу His Heiress Wife - Margaret Way - Страница 9

OLIVIA took a much earlier flight than planned. When she rang Doctor Hilary Lockwood, the head of Ormiston Girls Grammar, with her sad news, Doctor Lockwood was most sympathetic. She assured Olivia there was no need whatever for her to attend school the following day. They would miss her at the break-up party—Olivia had been closely involved in the preparation—but everyone would understand she’d be in no mood for celebrations. Doctor Lockwood expressed her sincere sympathies one more time, thanking Olivia for all her efforts on behalf of the school during the year. They had been well noted.

Olivia decided in advance once she reached her destination she would ring Grace to arrange for someone to pick her up at the terminal. Grace would know better than to enlist Jason Corey’s help. The previous night she had lain awake into the small hours, grieving for her dear Harry, trying to come up with reasons why Jason Corey would have been at Havilah when Harry died.

Had he come home to be with his mother perhaps? Antonella Corey had not enjoyed good health. Some said the rapid deterioration had started after her husband had abandoned her. Had Jason’s grandmother, Renata, died? Hard to believe. Renata was ageless. Larger than life. But that was foolish. There were always massive changes in life. Sometimes it was hard for Olivia to believe she’d been away for so many years.

Was it something to do with Megan’s family? She had no real idea of anything that was happening in that part of the world. She had cut herself off. She rarely if ever thought of Megan Duffy. Megan had been guilty of the ageless betrayal—she had stolen another woman’s man, whether premeditated or not. Olivia didn’t want to think about Megan Duffy. Not ever! She refused to think of her as Jason’s wife, much less could she bear to think of her as the mother of Jason’s child. That role had belonged to her. It had been ordained.

What a wide-eyed innocent she had been. She no longer wept about it. It was the stuff of fiction. Love and betrayal. A rival’s deceit. It had become clear to her over the years Megan had been in love with Jason, not that Megan was the only one. If anyone could be said to have sexual radiance it was Jason Corey. Women were powerfully attracted to him. They thought him gorgeous, his wonderful colouring, the fine modelling of his bone structure, the way he carried his splendid body. Sex appeal beat around Jason in molten waves.

But he was hers. She’d been so sure of him—she had never for one moment doubted Jason’s love—she had never been beset by jealousy or the fear some other woman would take him from her. No one could do that. Jason loved her. She loved him. Neither would dream of hurting the other. Everything simply got better as their wonderful relationship strengthened and deepened. Betrayal was never to be guessed at.

Until Megan Duffy.

Olivia sat very quietly on the plane resting her head against the cold oval of the window, staring out at the billowing white clouds and the great silver wing of the aircraft. The man beside her, thirtyish, attractive with snapping dark eyes had tried to start up a conversation but gradually got the message leaving her alone with her sad thoughts. She couldn’t escape them even in sleep.

Almost two hours later her plane had landed and she had collected her baggage loading it onto a trolley. Then she rang through to the house. To her surprise, no-one answered. She gave it five minutes, rang again. Same result. Grace didn’t come to the phone. She could be anywhere. It was a big house. There were a number of extensions but even then Grace might not have heard the phone ringing. She was sorry now she hadn’t rung Grace from Brisbane instead of leaving it until now. That was a mistake—Grace wouldn’t be expecting her for hours. She was probably making her old bedroom ready; or putting the homestead in top-top order. Many people would be attending Harry’s funeral. They would all want to come back to the house.

Harry’s funeral.

Olivia bit down hard on her lip. When she felt more composed she lifted her head. Outside the terminal building was the taxi rank. A taxi was pulling away. Five more were lined up. It was a long trip to Havilah. She might as well get started.

“Let me take that for you, Miss.” A porter appeared beside her taking charge of her laden trolley. “Are you being met or are you taking a taxi?”

“Taxi, thank you,” she smiled at him, grateful for his help.

They were driving up the avenue of towering palms. Cuban Royals. Twelve to each side like sentinels. From the moment she’d stepped onto the tarmac at the airport Olivia knew she was home. This was the tropics. North of Capricorn. Scent of flowers. Scent of salt. Scent of sea. Though the taxi was pleasantly air-conditioned she had wound down the window a little so she could feel the heat in her blood. Everywhere she looked was lush emerald green vegetation, vying with brilliant displays of colour. The great overhead curve of sky was a deep cobalt blue.

On the verge of the Wet the landscape was splendid. The golden cascara trees had broken out in bloom, as had the magnificent poincianas that adorned the grounds. Her eyes moved lovingly to the beautiful magnolias with their huge waxy flowers; the burnt orange cups of the tulip trees, the extraordinary displays of the ever present bougainvillea, the common purple, and the hybrids, gold, white, apricot, bronze, crimson, fuchsia, violet, pink. Bouganvillea was the plant for the tropics. It made an enormous impact. Towering, dazzling, drawing the butterflies as surely as the lantana.

“This is some place,” the driver commented, gazing from side to side in admiration. “First time I’ve ever brought anyone here. It’s a real experience. You’re a visitor, miss?”

“This is my home.”

“No kiddin’?” The driver was so surprised he almost brought the car to a stop. “I thought it belonged to Mr. Linfield?”

“I’m his niece. His great-niece.” Olivia was unable to bring herself to say Harry had died. The news would travel like wildfire anyway.

“Sounds about right,” the driver glanced over his shoulder at Olivia with bright, smiling eyes. “You and the house are of a piece.” Classy, he thought. A high-stepping thoroughbred. Super refined.

The taxi came to rest at the base of the broad flight of white marble steps that led up to the terrace. The driver attended to her luggage, placing it on the verandah, while Olivia stood in the brilliant sunshine staring up at the house. It was large. An imposing colonial mansion painted the classic white with midnight blue shutters she remembered as always having being green. The glossy dark blue looked good she considered. It made a nice change. The colonnaded two storey central section rose proudly, flanked by substantial one storey wings. The handsome white pillars of the central section were thickly woven by the same violet-blue trumpet vine of old with its shining dark green pinnate leaves. The leaves were almost as pretty as the prolific clusters of mauve flowers.

I’ve never been away, she thought. The myth of her being remote from her past life was exposed. Havilah had always been an enchanted place. The wonderful sense of peace was the same. It was Harry’s spirit presiding over the plantation. He had been a truly good man.

Olivia paid the driver adding a handsome tip. It had been a long trip but the driver had been pleasant and courteous, not bothering her with too much conversation. She waited a moment for the taxi to drive off, suddenly overcome by her grief.

No Harry to greet her. She was dimly aware of the heat of the sun on her bare head. She’d taken the precaution of wearing sunglasses to protect her eyes from the all pervading light. The air near the house smelled heavily of gardenias and frangipani. The extensive grounds appeared more beautiful to her than ever before, the great drifts of lawn perfectly manicured. It looked as though a team of gardeners was circling eight hours a day. Harry would have been very happy indeed at the way everything looked. She had never pressed him about business or staffing but it looked as though Harry had found himself a splendid overseer.

Go up, she told herself, move one foot after the other. This is your home. Your house now. These coming days— Harry’s funeral—a possible confrontation with Jason Corey—had to be got through. Her silk blouse was sticking faintly to her back in the heat. It occurred to her as it had so often in the past, the perfumed heat of the tropics was not only sensual but sexual. Unbidden came the memory of indigo nights on the beach with Jason. The call of the sea. The way the white sand always found its way onto the rug. The grooves their bodies made. His mouth on hers. His hand on her naked breast, her body stirring beneath his every touch.

The passion that had bloomed out of them! Was it the flush of youth? She had never experienced anything remotely approaching it ever since. The murmured endearments that had welled from their mouths, then rendered wordless when desire mounted so high it stopped all ability to speak. Her blood still carried the memory deep within its cells. She would never be free of it. Passion. Doomed or not, it had been hers for a little while.

Heart burning Olivia walked up the flight of steps to the shade of the lofty terrace. No one was around. She couldn’t quite understand why. There was movement in the grounds though she couldn’t see through the thick screening of shade trees to the lower levels and the secret garden rooms she had once so loved. She knew Grace would have been left near helpless by Harry’s death. Grace had worshipped Harry. She had been in his employ for close on thirty years and Harry had been the best employer in the world.

Olivia moved into the silent entrance hall where the white marble flooring continued. Everything reminded her of her loss especially the rich scent of the glorious crimson roses that drifted to her from the crystal bowl atop a console. Roses had been Harry’s favourite flower. Despite the difficulties of keeping them pest free in the tropics Havilah’s rose gardens flourished.

“Grace?” she called, remembering Grace was at retirement age and could even be a touch deaf.

She lifted her eyes to the upstairs gallery that gave off the graceful central staircase. She fully expected Grace to appear and was troubled when she didn’t. The entrance hall was as beautiful as ever, the perfect setting for the works of art that adorned the high walls above the double archways that led on the right to the formal drawing room, on the left to the library. Light was streaming into both rooms through the soaring French doors. Olivia didn’t bother calling again. She decided to go in search of Grace. Very likely she was in the kitchen at the rear of the house.

Olivia had started down the passageway when all of a sudden there was a light clatter of footsteps from somewhere behind her. Olivia spun around in surprise as a little girl with a mop of dark curls dressed in a white T-shirt and floral shorts, dashed through one of the archways clearly making for the front door.

“Hi there!” Olivia called, much as she would have attempted to arrest the headlong flight of a young student. “Where are you going, little girl?”

The child didn’t attempt to flee any further. She turned around, standing her ground for all the world like a miniature adult. “Who are you?” she countered, staring back at Olivia with bright blue eyes.

“I’m Olivia.”

“I’m Tali. I’m looking after Gracie.”

“Really?” Olivia nearly laughed aloud, catching the note of pride in the child’s voice. “And where is Gracie?”

“She’s in the kitchen. Do you want me to go get her?”

“Why don’t we both go,” Olivia said, holding out her hand.

The child came towards her. “You’re pretty, lady,” she said in a tomboyish voice, staring up at Olivia and taking her hand.

“Thank you. You’re pretty yourself.”

“I like your earrings. And your watch.”

“You’ve got good taste. What’s Tali short for? I should know.”

“Natalie,” the little girl scoffed. “No one calls me that.”

“Where’s your mother?” Olivia asked, thinking she was probably one of the household staff.

The child’s bright blue eyes slid away. “I dunno.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

Tali gave an unexpected little bark of laughter. “I’m supposed to say prayers every day but I don’t.”

Olivia was about to ask her what she meant when Grace came charging through the swing door that led in and out of the kitchen. When she saw Olivia and Tali hand in hand she gave a great start.

“You’ve met then?” she whispered, sounding as badly shaken as she looked.

“Hey, Gracie, what’s going on?” Olivia let go of the child’s hand. She moved swiftly towards Havilah’s housekeeper, drawing her into a big hug. “Come on now, don’t cry,” Olivia murmured, patting Grace on the back, hoping she wasn’t going to start up herself.

“I can’t help it.” Grace’s plump shoulders shuddered.

“I know.”

Tali inched closer, suddenly throwing her arms around Olivia’s legs and joining in on the hug. “I’m scared.”

Immediately both women dropped their arms, focusing on the child. “There’s no need to be scared, Tali,” Olivia said in a kind, encouraging voice.

Tali shook her dark head, her eyes big and grave. “You’re Miss Olivia?”

“Olivia will do.”

“You’ve come to see us because Uncle Harry is dead?”

Beside Olivia, Grace made an agitated movement. “I should have told you last night. I’m ashamed of myself. I was trying to.”

“Told me what?” Olivia sought the housekeeper’s eyes. They were red-rimmed. In fact Grace’s good humoured, homely face was swollen from crying.

“I didn’t dare.”

“On come on now,” Olivia urged. “What’s the problem, Grace? You’re not making a scrap of sense.”

“You oughta tell her,” the child chided Grace. “I’m Tali Corey.” Her hand stole to Olivia’s arm. “Are you gonna hate me?”

Olivia stared down at the little girl in a dazed silence. What had the child just said? Her head felt swimmy like she was about to faint. “How old are you, Tali?” she asked, thinking: This is Jason’s child. Who did she look like? She was neither Jason nor Megan. But she did look vaguely familiar.

“I’ll be seven next birthday,” Tali announced proudly. “I’m tall for my age. I’m as tall as my friend, Danny, but I don’t read silly comic books.”

Olivia shifted her gaze to Grace, her eyes ice-grey with shock. “What’s going on here, Grace?”

Grace began to shuffle her feet. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Livvy.”

“Tell me what? That little Tali here has the run of the house? That she called Harry Uncle Harry? Where does she live? Where’s her mother? What’s she doing here now? She told me she was looking after you?”

“Little monkey!” Grace said fondly, shaking her head.

“Look don’t get mad,” Tali said, absorbing Olivia’s expression. “Don’t ask Gracie all those questions. Ask Dad.”

“He’s here?” By now Olivia felt so agitated she didn’t know if she could handle the situation.

“I’ll take you to him,” Tali offered helpfully. “You could start over being friends.”

“Never!” Olivia said with fervour, lifting her chin.

“Sure. You’re grown-ups. You have to try.” Tali’s eyes, round and pleading were on Olivia’s stricken face.

“Tali, dear,” Grace tried ineffectually to stop the child’s guileless comments.

“Stay here. I’ll go get him.” Tali’s voice was oddly determined. She seemed very mature for her age.

Olivia stepped in front of her. “No, thank you, Tali.”

“It’s no trouble,” Tali told her sweetly.

“I’m sorry, Tali, but I prefer not to see your father at the moment.” Ever again was silent but understood.

“You know Dad doesn’t hate you,” Tali pleaded.

“What must you think of me, Livvy.” Grace was literally wringing her hands. “I’m so ashamed. I should have warned you.” The admission set off another crying spell.

“Grace, please.” Olivia sought to calm her. She couldn’t blame Grace for not owning up. Grace had had her instructions.

“Poor old Gracie!” Tali tried to get a comforting arm around Grace’s stoutness. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Daddy will be here soon.”

“Dad’s here now,” a vibrant male voice called from somewhere outside on the terrace. “Tali, get out here,” the voice ordered crisply. “What do you mean by running away?”

“Jus’ dropping in on Gracie,” the child raised her voice, making no attempt to move.

“Next time you tell me.”

Jason stepped out of his dusty work boots, leaving them on the terrace. “You spoil her, Grace.” Head bent he came through the front door. “Every time I’m working near the house Tali makes a bee-line—”

He looked up, saw Olivia. His shock was so powerful his voice cracked on the last word. Wave after wave of heat broke over him, sizzling like he’d touched a live wire. “Liv!” The fists of his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles showed white.

Grace already on tenterhooks interpreted this as a good time to disappear. She acted quickly, getting a firm grip on Tali’s hand and bearing her off to the kitchen mumbling something about a chocolate sundae.

By sheer force of will Olivia remained where she was. Her impulse was to run, to do anything but stand there and confront the man who had betrayed her. She put a hand to the banister of the staircase to steady herself. Jason couldn’t hurt her anymore. She wouldn’t let him. So why were tears stinging her eyes? She opened her mouth, but her throat was so constricted words wouldn’t come. At the sight of him all the feelings she had for so long been suppressing sprang into full bloom.

Oh God, no! she prayed silently. There had to be something seriously wrong with her. She managed a curt nod, unaware her turbulent emotions were flashing out of her eyes. More than six years had passed yet all the old memories beat in on her; the humiliation, the anger, the never ending heart break, the physical longing for him despite his betrayal. It all came back as vividly alive as yesterday.

“We weren’t expecting you until late this afternoon.” Jason’s voice cut into the suffocating silence.

Olivia swallowed hard on the rush of anger. It was crucial to retain control. “I never expected to see you, either,” she said coldly. “What are you doing here, Jason?”

Finally she had to know. “I work here, Liv,” he said, making an involuntary move towards her. It was so miraculous to have her standing there in front of him, looking like something out of a dream, for a moment he thought he’d do something really stupid like attempt to embrace her or worse blurt out he still wanted her. That would go over well. He had never seen a woman look so icy in his life.

“Stay there. Don’t come near me,” she warned him sharply, visibly recoiling.

“I’m sorry.” He halted a few feet away, enveloped by self-contempt. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Liv. We have to talk.”

She made herself laugh, a sound totally without humour. “I have nothing whatever to say to you, Jason. I want you to go away.” There was a perverse pleasure in seeing the angles of his face tighten. He looked older, tougher, harder, handsomer. The worst part of it was that he looked like a man who was used to authority.

“I’ll be glad to go, Olivia,” he clipped off. “After you give me a few minutes of your time. I need to explain a few things Harry didn’t get around to telling you.”

“Like what?” She didn’t want to look at him, neither could she look away. He wore work clothes supporting the claim he had a job on Havilah. A navy T-shirt hugged his wide shoulders and muscular chest, his jeans slung low on his lean hips, tightly fitting his long legs. It was simple gear but it fit his body to perfection. He had taken off his work shoes before coming into the house, standing well over six feet in his dusty socks. The whole effect was a stunning, entirely natural sexuality.

Olivia felt her forehead bead with heat. A rage of self-disgust was coursing through her, making her feel less of a person. Instead of responding to his so obvious manly attractions she should be remembering the great wrong he had done her. Where was her pride? She knew she wouldn’t be well-prepared for this difficult encounter but she had expected more of herself.

“I knew you were at Havilah when Harry died,” she said, not bothering to hide her hostility. “I know you found him. I want to see him to say goodbye.”

“Of course. I can take you,” Jason offered quietly. “His body is at the funeral home.”

“Aronson’s?” She felt the tears well into her eyes; blinked them back.

“Yes.” He knew exactly how grief-stricken she felt.

“I can find it.” She rejected his offer out of hand. “I don’t need you, Jason. It’s much too late to play at being friends. I’m tired, it was a long trip. What is it you have to say? I doubt it will interest me much. So you work here? I don’t know how Harry allowed it. I can’t forgive you at all.”

“Can we go into the library?” he suggested. “Voices travel down the hallway.”

She could tell from his concentrated frown he thought the child might hear. She relented on that account only, leading the way into the drawing room as beautiful and gracious as ever. Olivia turned to him—she had no choice—feeling a throbbing pressure in her right temple. She even tapped a finger to it. “You’ve only got a minute, Jason, then I want you off Havilah. How did your wife ever consent to your coming back here? I thought you were managing a station Outback?”

Jason was doing his best to repress his own turbulent feelings. As a girl Olivia had been lovely. As a woman she was blindingly beautiful. Every single feature of her face had gained definition. He wished he could tell her how beautiful she’d become but of course he couldn’t. “My mother died, Olivia,” he explained. “That was just over two years ago. I cam home to be with her in the final stages.”

“I’m sorry.” Olivia bowed her head, unhappy she couldn’t offer the sympathy that deserved. “I liked your mother. I had no argument with her or she with me. And after she died, why didn’t you return Outback?”

“Because Harry offered me a job,” Jason shot back. “We met by accident one day. I talked, Harry listened. He always was a good listener and a very fair minded man. I’ve been managing Havilah and Harry’s other business interests for the past two years.”

That piece of news would have shattered her had she not been shattered already. “And he never said a word.” The thought upset her tremendously.

“Harry didn’t want to lie or pretend.” Jason’s eyes burned over her. She was wearing a silk shirt and matching skirt in the colour of the jacarandas. The lavender sheen seemed to be reflected in her eyes. “Harry knew what your reaction would be,” he added quietly.

Olivia couldn’t bear to be so close to him. She turned on her heel, walking away to an open French door staring sightlessly out onto the garden.

“I thought Harry loved me.” There was deep anguish in her tone.

“You were everything in the world to him.” Jason protested, putting his heart and his soul into that. He couldn’t bear to see her looking so betrayed.

Almost violently Olivia shook her head. “He let you back into his life,” she pointed out in a withering voice.

There was pain in Jason’s eyes. “Harry forgave me, Olivia. He knew what my life was like after I lost you.”

She spun about, her eyes sparkling like jewels. “Oh, that’s good!” she bitterly scoffed. “You married someone else, Jason. Remember? You have a daughter by her. I expect other children?”

“Just Tali,” he said, his expression turning withdrawn.

“Harry shouldn’t have done it.” Once again she tasted the gall of betrayal. In the end didn’t men stick together? Harry had always had a deep affection for the fatherless Jason.

“Well he did,” Jason confirmed flatly. “It wasn’t just kindness, though Harry was kindness itself. Harry had reached a stage in life when he badly needed help. He knew I could handle the job. I’ve become deeply involved in all Linfield operations, Liv. I doubt you could find someone better, or someone who has worked harder.”

“You can bet your life I’ll try!” Olivia retorted. “You must have known one day you would have to go?” She was unable to keep the note of triumph from her voice.

He nodded, throwing up his dark fire head. “Sure, and I’m prepared to go, Olivia. I can’t imagine anything worse than sticking around to take flack from you. I worked for Harry. Trying to work for you would make a big difference. Back then Harry needed someone he trusted to run his affairs. I always had a good business brain and we were able to turn my progressive ideas into winners. I’ve changed a lot of things for the better around here—Harry appreciated that. I’ll always be grateful to him because he gave me a second chance. It wasn’t always easy for him. He didn’t enjoy not being straight with you but he was keenly aware of your feelings. The overriding factor was he’d reached a stage in life when he needed help. My help as it turned out.”

“Help that won’t be needed from now on.”

“I wonder how long it’s going to take you to realize you’re not in any position to take over?” Jason unleashed a taunt.

“You won’t be around to find out.” Olivia shook her long hair. It had grown back over the last six years. “Where are you living?” she demanded as though he had somehow found his way into the house.

Jason shook his head. “Not here, if that’s what you’re on about. Mum left the family home to me. That’s where Tali and I live.”

“And Renata?” Her proud aloof expression softened slightly.

“She’s still at her own place. She does a lot of child minding.”

“Megan too busy to look after her little daughter?” Immediately after she said it Olivia was furious for mentioning Megan’s name.

“Megan’s gone, Olivia,” he shocked her by saying.

“Gone?” That was the last thing she expected to hear. “Gone where?”

Jason realized he’d been holding his breath, waiting for this question to come. “Our marriage didn’t work out, Liv. I never loved Megan. I couldn’t make myself love her though I tried to make our marriage work. The thing is, no-one can love to order. In the end Megan became so bitter and angry she left.”

“Just like that?” Olivia’s mouth curved in disbelief. “Simplicity itself leaving a man who doesn’t love you. But your child? How did she do it or did you refuse to let her have custody of Tali? I can see you doing that?”

“She didn’t want Tali,” Jason informed her bluntly. “Tali was cargo she didn’t need to carry. Megan wasn’t a good mother I’m afraid. She didn’t bond with Tali right from the beginning, totally lacked the maternal streak you women are supposed to have. She had some dark places in her soul, poor Megan.”

Olivia stared at him openly, too shocked to register anything but her disbelief. “So where is she now?”

Jason shrugged. “The last I heard she was living with some guy in the Territory.”

“Well, gee, Jason, you made a mistake.” Olivia assumed a laconic drawl, allowed herself to give vent to her emotions. “It’s Tali I feel sorry for. She must have feelings of grief and abandonment?”

Jason’s chiselled jawline tightened. “I think Tali had a pretty rough time with Megan when I wasn’t around.”

Olivia blinked. “Can you clarify that?” she asked sharply. The Megan she remembered had always appeared quiet and docile.

“I don’t want to go into this, Olivia.” Jason’s tone was curt. “Megan didn’t have an easy childhood. Some of it brushed off on her. I mightn’t have been able to love her but I always tried to do the right thing by her. In the end I was glad she took off because I was worried eventually she might hurt Tali.”

“And when did she take off as you put it?”

“Megan left when Tali was almost four,” Jason answered, openly on edge.

“She doesn’t look like you,” Olivia stunned herself by saying. “She doesn’t look like Megan, either, although there is something familiar about her.”

“I thought she had my eyes.” He shrugged.

She glanced away before she burst into tears. “Only in the sense they’re blue. I wish I could say I’m sorry for the mess you’ve made of your life, Jason, but I’m not such a hypocrite.”

“Once you didn’t lack for compassion,” he said, trapping her gaze. “It wasn’t in your nature to be mean.”

“I didn’t say I’m proud of myself,” she retorted, colour springing to her cheeks. “You got enough of that from Harry anyway, don’t expect it from me. After the funeral, Jason, I don’t want to see you again.”