mighty vulnerable.”
“You’re telling me? You project your mother’s problems on to yourself. As far as looking tough? You might be a fighter, Darcy, but look tough, you don’t. I’ve had so much time to consider. You ran from me because you felt threatened. Is that it? You never attempted to explain. Poor mug me, was on top of the world. I just floated through life then, on Cloud Nine. I know you were frightened of your own sex drive let alone mine. Anyone would think our lovemaking had corrupted you.”
She could never forget the intensity. “It was incredibly passionate.” She lowered her head, not allowing him to see her eyes. “Maybe I thought your idea of me wasn’t the real me. How could you have professed to love me so much? You could have had anyone. All the blue-blooded society girls. Not tormented old me. I was paralysed by the fear you’d eventually cast me aside and I needed to get out before then. Maybe what you’re saying is true. I can’t differentiate between myself and my mother. What happened between us got way out of control. Isn’t the word passion derived from the Greek penthos to grieve? Strong passions can cause suffering.”
“So your answer was to escape? I never knew you were such a coward.”
“There’s lots you don’t know,” she said, suddenly wanting to run. “How could I cope with being Curt Berenger’s wife? Now that’s a big job. Who knows some time down the track I could be sent packing.”
He put his hands flat on the table and stared at her. “It all comes back to your own family. I don’t care to be lumped in with your father.”
Darcy shook her head. “Aren’t you both alpha males?”
He reacted vehemently to that. “The only similarity is we’re both cattle men, extraordinarily successful at what we do. In your father’s case, did. I do not have a callous hand with women. I am not a womaniser despite your quite insulting ideas. I am not bloody mean and shockingly selfish and I’m fairly certain I don’t have the reputation for being a bastard. I’m intelligent, good natured and dare I say it, attractive. You’re the only woman I know who goes into panic mode at the very sight of me. Don’t bother denying it. I can see through the smoke screen.”
“Maybe you can,” she expressed a sigh. “But what’s in it for us, Curt, but high risk? For a while there you had me body and soul. It’s something I can’t allow.”
“Fearless in so many ways, timid in others,” he accused.
Darcy shook her head. “You say timid. I say keeping myself together.”
“You won’t stay together long with all this hard physical labour,” Curt retorted. “And for goodness’ sake, sit down.” He waited until she did before resuming. “What you do is much too hard for a woman though your father has allowed it. It has to stop. It will stop.”
Colour stained her high cheekbones. “You mean when you take over? Are you trying to tell me it’s a possibility?”
He looked angry at the question and the deep resentment in her tone. “I don’t have to tell you running a cattle station involves excessive hard work seven days a week. I don’t know how you’ve been able to keep it up but it can’t last. It will steal your youth and your strength. You need help Darcy. What’s more, you’re going to get it.”
“Dad has elected you the new Boss.” She brought out bitterness like a weapon.
“Give me a break, Darcy.” They were at it again. “I’m not going to ruin things for you. I’m going to help you.”
“Wouldn’t I be lost without you?” She was becoming increasingly angry and confused.
“Well we’re sitting here together, aren’t we?” he shot back.
“So it seems.” Darcy tried to get a rein on herself but the pressure was too much. “Would you like another cup of coffee?” she asked bleakly.
“Please. It’s excellent.” He presented his empty cup, thinking what he was saying was having little effect.
“You were the one who brought the beans back from the city for me,” Darcy reminded him, refilling their cups. “So let it out. What have you got to say that’s going to surprise me?”
Curt didn’t beat about the bush. “You know your father’s views. He is without question a chauvinist.”
“Yes,” she answered sharply, betraying her worry over what was coming.
“In the original will you were the sole beneficiary apart from a few minor bequests.”
“I know.”
“You were right in thinking your father wants to acknowledge Courtney.”
Darcy sighed deeply. “She is his daughter. I have no real problem with that providing she has no say in running Murraree about which she knows nothing.”
“Your father wants to set up a trust fund.” Curt took a long swallow of the hot steaming coffee and set down the cup.
Darcy’s aquamarine eyes flashed. “A trust fund. C’mon?” she jeered.
“He doesn’t think you could run Murraree by yourself. You can’t, without help. I know you’re that realistic. His big concern, however, is you and Courtney will become targets for unscrupulous suitors.”
“So he wants to set up a trust fund with you the trustee?” Darcy looked angry, contemptuous and humiliated all at the same time. “I knew it. He wants you to run the bloody place.”
“I knew exactly your reaction.” He too gave way to anger.
“When you come right down to it, who else?” She shoved her plate away. “You’re the right man for the job.”
“You mean I’m the last person you’d want in the job?” He leaned a fraction closer tall and rangy with those wide shoulders. “The last man you’d want.”
“Why should I have you or anyone?” she demanded to know.
“Because you need someone better than Tom McLaren, your present manager,” Curt ground out. “Tom’s a good man, experienced at what he does, but he can’t take control, much less do your father’s job. It’s your father’s station and it’s your father’s money. You’ll be a rich woman when he dies. Better yet, a free woman. So will Courtney. Though as I understand it you’ll have the lion’s share.”
“I should bloody hope so,” she swore again without apology. “I can imagine Courtney will be thrilled. She’ll probably decide to come out here to inspect her property. She might even bring my mother and her second husband. After all, they’d have nothing to fear anymore. Dad will be gone. How does this trust fund work?” Her slanting eyes with their winged black brows glittered her anger was so apparent.
“The usual way. The trustees, probably three, two from Maxwell-Maynard—”
“Adam?” she interrupted.
“He’d be a good choice.”
“You being in charge of course. You’re the man to take control.”
He gave
