Back at the homestead, she’d looked washed out, a pale shadow of the lively, flirtatious girl who’d come here for a holiday. But, given her long journey and jet lag, that wasn’t surprising.
Now, sitting in the golden beams of afternoon light, with her autumn hair and her brown skirt, she looked tranquil and undeniably eye-catching. Like a sexy version of a Rembrandt painting.
Alan Davidson opened the folder in front of him, snapping Noah roughly back to the business at hand. Noah’s fingers reached for the knot of his tie, and he longed to loosen it to relieve the sudden strangling sensation that clawed at his throat.
He had no reason to be nervous, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Watching Noah’s restlessness, Kate wished she was anywhere but here. It wasn’t just jet lag making her so ill at ease. She could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. In spite of his suntan, Noah looked pale, and he kept shifting in his chair. Now he was sitting ramrod straight, with his jaw clenched and his hands fisted on his knees, his knuckles white.
Her heart went out to him. She knew he’d loved her uncle as deeply as any son could, and he was still grappling with his grief. But at least he would walk out of this office today as the new owner of Radnor cattle station. Uncle Angus had told her mother years ago not to expect anything from him because it would all go to Noah. So why did Noah look so worried now?
Did he sense, as she did, that something wasn’t right? Alan Davidson, the balding, middle-aged solicitor, shouldn’t have been worried, but he looked almost as uneasy as Noah. He kept adjusting his glasses and opening his document folder, then closing it again.
The cocky man in the city suit—who’d been introduced as James Calloway, Liane’s lawyer from Sydney—was on edge in a different way. He had an air of contained expectation, and he kept sending Liane sneaky sideways winks, almost as if he knew something the others didn’t. Kate disliked his smugness and the way he kept inspecting his super-clean fingernails.
The only person in the room who looked relaxed was Noah’s former wife. Liane had speedily found the most comfortable chair in the room, and she sat now with an easy elegance that displayed her long legs and expensive dress to their best advantage.
She was exceptionally pretty—very fair and very slim with bright-blue eyes fringed by long, dark lashes. Model-perfect looks, Kate decided, with that particular air of feminine awareness that brought men to their knees. Poor Noah. He must have loved her desperately. Maybe he still did?
As Kate watched, Liane leaned towards her lawyer and rested her perfectly manicured hand on his knee. Was James Calloway her lover now, or did Liane like to tease?
At last, the solicitor made a throat-clearing sound to break the silence.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said quietly, ‘Thank you for coming here today.’ He placed his square hands on the folder in front of him. ‘I have in my possession two wills for Angus Harrington. One that was made many years ago, and another that was drawn up three months ago.’
He looked at them over the top of his glasses. No one spoke or moved, but Kate felt a new ripple of disquiet spread through the room, as if a stone had been dropped into a pond, disrupting its smooth surface.
‘I’ll cut to the chase and provide a summary.’ Alan Davidson lifted a sheet from the papers in front of him. ‘The property of Radnor, its buildings, stock, vehicles and equipment, were Angus Harrington’s only assets.’
As he spoke, the solicitor let his gaze shift from person to person in the room. ‘There were some cash reserves, but those funds have been depleted by the long drought. There won’t be much left in the bank by the time the final debts and mortgages are settled.’
He paused, looked down at the papers, then directed his attention to Noah. ‘Noah, Angus left you a half-share of Radnor, its assets and its debts.’
A half-share?
Kate saw the flare of shock in Noah’s eyes.
She was shocked too. And confused. What did this mean?
The solicitor turned quickly to Kate. ‘Ms Brodie.’
Her hand flew to her throat and her heart began to thump mercilessly.
‘It was your uncle’s wish that you should inherit the other half of his estate.’
‘No,’ she whispered.
Alan Davidson frowned.
‘No.’ Kate shook her head. ‘There must be a mistake.’
‘Of course it’s a mistake!’ cried Liane. ‘That can’t possibly be right.’
Grim faced, the solicitor held out the sheet of paper, pointing with his finger to the appropriate words, but they swam before Kate’s eyes. She felt vague and confused, as if this was happening to someone else.
‘Ms Brodie,’ Alan said. ‘In the revised will, your uncle’s intention was quite clear. In fact, his insistence that you be included as a beneficiary is the reason the will was changed.’
Stunned, Kate looked from the solicitor to Noah’s stony face. This didn’t make sense. She couldn’t possibly own half of an Australian cattle property. Why on earth would her uncle do that?
Why would he do it to Noah?
Before she could find the words to frame a question, Noah’s ex-wife leapt to her feet.
‘James, you told me you could get me half of everything Noah inherited. How can this little biddy from England sneak though the back door and take my share?’
Hands on hips, Liane darted fiery sneers at them all. ‘I’m entitled to a half-share of that property. I wasted the best years of my life in that ghastly place, living under the same roof as that awful old man.’
Calloway reached for her hand and tried to pull her back down into her chair, but she shook him away.
‘Noah owes me, and he knows it. They can’t do this to me. It’s ridiculous. I want my money.’
Noah, darkly furious, refused to respond.
Kate watched from her seat, mortified. She felt responsible for this fiasco. But utterly helpless. She hadn’t asked for an inheritance. What had Uncle Angus been thinking?
As she sat, wondering what on earth she should say or do, the door from the outer office began to open. Just a crack at first, and then wider, and one half of a small face appeared.
The door inched open wider and Kate saw a little girl aged about seven or eight. She was fair-skinned and petite, with freckles across her nose and wavy, light brown hair that almost reached her shoulders. Her eyes were the exact shade of grey as Noah’s eyes, but right now they were round with worry and fixed on Liane.
Kate wondered if she was Olivia, Noah and Liane’s daughter. Perhaps she’d been told to wait outside. Had she been upset by the high-pitched agitation in her mother’s voice?
Liane hadn’t noticed the child and she continued to rant. ‘On your feet,
