style="font-size:15px;"> “They’ll have enough!” McIvor muttered irritably.
“I think you should line up another couple of trustees,” Curt suggested.
“Okay, okay.” McIvor waved a withered hand. “I’m telling you Curt it’s the only way I’ll die happy. I need a man of impeccable reputation who has more than enough interests of his own to act as the main trustee and executor of my estate. I believe I’ve come up with the right man. You. And if you won’t do it I’ll have to get someone else,” he added with grim determination. “Someone who mightn’t always act in the best interests of the beneficiaries.”
That forced Curt to reconsider. McIvor’s expression told him he meant exactly what he said. “Jock, you’re putting a lot on me. Darcy won’t like this idea.”
“It’s not Darcy’s money!” McIvor glared, his voice suddenly strong. “Murraree belongs to me. If she wants to make trouble she mightn’t be named as a beneficiary at all. Now I’m tired,” he announced gruffly. “Get that dratted Ainsworth woman in here, will you? She’s plain, poor bitch. No woman should be as plain as that and she stinks of disinfectant. I don’t want to hurt Darcy but I won’t tolerate any stubbornness. Explain that to her.”
CHAPTER TWO
CURT left McIvor’s bedroom feeling like he was wading through quick sand. The nurse was hovering nearby and he lost no time telling her Mr. McIvor was in need of his medication. He then went in search of Darcy, finding her in the kitchen, washing a head of lettuce at the sink.
“Ham and salad okay?” she asked in a way that suggested her mind wasn’t on fixing lunch at all.
“Fine.” His voice too came out more clipped than he intended. “Make it a sandwich and a cup of coffee, Darcy. I have to talk to you.”
“Of course you do and from the expression on your face you know I won’t like it. Dad is selling Murraree to you. At the right price, of course.” Although she was joking Darcy’s golden skin had turned pale. Anything was possible with her father.
Curt gave a harsh laugh. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “That’d be one for the books!” The kitchen was enormous and very old-fashioned. Like the rest of the rambling old homestead it was badly in need of updating and refurbishing. For all his money McIvor was notoriously tight fisted. “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want Murraree, Darcy,” he said, aware of her loss of colour. “I have enough on my hands.”
She shook her gleaming head. “You wouldn’t knock it back if it came on the market?”
“I’m not getting into any hypothetical discussions. Come here and sit down.”
“I’ll make you a sandwich first. The coffee will only take a minute. I’ll put it on the stove.” For a few moments neither spoke as she worked quickly putting together a plate of ham and salad sandwiches. “So what did Dad suggest?” she asked finally, setting the plate before him along with a clean white linen napkin.
“This looks good,” he said, realizing he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since dawn. “You’re going to have something surely?” He looked up at her.
“I seem to have lost my appetite.”
“You can’t afford to. You’re downright skinny.” The expression in his green eyes changed, as they travelled over her.
Sometimes he slipped back into doing that so the blood raced through her veins. “Why do you do it, Curt?” she asked, thoroughly rattled.
“Call you skinny?” he half smiled.
“You know darn well. Look at me like that?”
He sat back, considering. “Well apart from being skinny you’re just beautiful even with a pigtail hanging down your back. I can’t remember the last time I saw your hair out.”
“You do too,” she reminded him shortly. “The last polo ball.”
“That’s right. Damn near a year ago. Sunset hosts it this time around. I remember you spent most of the night with Rob Erskine,” he referred to a member of his team who had always been painfully in love with Darcy and unbeknown to him had actually proposed to her.
“So I did.” She shrugged. “While you gave Beth Gilmour the best night of her life. Both of them now out of the picture.”
“Oh yeah?” he mocked. “I saw Beth only the other day.”
“Actually she’d make you a good wife.”
Curt gave her a disgusted look. “We’ve been through this before, Darcy. I’m allergic to having a wife picked out for me by you!”
The tantalizing aroma of perking coffee filled the kitchen. “You always taunt me about my single state. Why can’t I have a go at you?”
“Taunt away,” he invited, waving a careless hand. “You, my dear Darcy, are an open book. You want a review? It’s as I always tell you. You’re terrified of giving your heart away. You construct defences that make you feel safe, presumably against loss. Unfortunately loss is inevitable in life. You’ve been a victim. That’s why you’re compelled to act as you do.”
“You should have taken up psychiatry.” She raked an escaped lock of hair off her face.
He shrugged. “Anyone could see your conflicts.”
“Loving you a woman could get hurt badly.” She risked a glance at him, determined to keep her sensual self closed off when obviously she couldn’t.
“A woman meaning you. Don’t sound so miserable. Eventually you’ll work it out. I just hope you don’t leave it until your child bearing years are over. I think you’d make a great mother. I see you when you’re around little kids, teenagers come to that. Remember those so called problem kids we took on at Sunset last year? They thought you were great. You handled them so well. Firm but gentle, ready to listen, encouraging them. You interacted better than anyone else. Including my mother. I recall an eternity ago I had high hopes for us.”
For a few seconds she had difficulty continuing with what she was doing. Her hands shook. “I wouldn’t have been good for you, Curt. Nor you for me. We’d have ruined each other’s lives by now. I thought we’d established that.” Once she and Curt had been lovers—one of those great desperate romances that ended very badly. There was danger in even stirring over the ashes.
Determinedly she switched the conversation. “So what did Dad say?”
The corners of Curt’s firm mouth turned down. “That’s right, change the subject. I messed up, didn’t I? I should have made allowances for your insecurities instead I frightened you away. Maybe you saw it as self-preservation. But Darcy, I thought you were ripe for loving.”
She sought sanctuary at the kitchen sink. “Was I wrong or did we take our loving to extremes? If you’d asked me to run off to the other side of the world with you I would have. Then what would have happened to Dad? It was bad enough trying to keep all my feelings locked away despite having plenty of experience.”
“Don’t you realise the fact you felt compelled to lock your feelings away indicates a serious
