notched up a few gears since we were together. You saw what she was like today.’
‘She had every reason to be shocked,’ Francesca said, programmed to be loyal. ‘A massive disappointment was at the bottom of her grievances.’ Despite the way Carina had acted, Francesca was still moved to defend her cousin. ‘She felt betrayed—not only for herself, but for her father.’
‘Oh, come off it, Francey.’ Bryn spoke impatiently. ‘Carina has a total disregard for others. She uses people. It’s an inherited trait. You heard the way she went for her father—and in front of the rest of the family. He didn’t deserve that, even if he has to take some responsibility for turning her into what she has become. Had you been her handsome, clever, male cousin, instead of another woman, she would have taken it a whole lot better. Don’t you see the last thing Carina wants is to be burdened with heavy responsibilities? She wants to be perfectly free to enjoy herself, to live a life of endless self-indulgence. Frank knew that. Her father knows that. It’s the way she was reared, after all. What you have to grasp is this: it’s all about you. And her. Had it been up to Carina, she would have stripped you of your last penny.’
‘And would that have been such a great disaster?’ Francesca asked ironically. ‘I don’t want any of this. I can make my own way—and I am.’
Bryn came to sit again, not in the splendid walnut chair but close beside her, bringing with him his immense sexual aura. Oh, this man! What influence he had over her. And there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do to lessen its effect. Rather, it was expanding with every passing moment.
‘Listen, Francey,’ he said, leaning close, so the fine cotton of his shirt brushed against the skin of her arm. ‘I know you’re a very private person. You like to live out of the limelight. And you’ve succeeded to an extent. But you’re no more entitled to a normal life than I am. That’s one of the burdens of being who we are. Privacy goes out the door. Carina revels in attention. She’s fortunate in that way. She adores being chased by the paparazzi and being endlessly photographed. That’s her life. It gives her enormous satisfaction, even if she does like to lodge the odd complaint. You’re not like that. But you’ll have to concentrate on the main game. You are now in a position to do a great deal for others. There’s your saviour.
‘There’s so much the Foundation can do. Grants to medical science can play a much bigger part than they have in the past. Finding cures for killer diseases, saving lives. It all takes a colossal amount of money. There are so many projects that should have been taken up that the Foundation ignored. It came to the point where the Foundation was simply throwing money at organisations that should have been way down the list. You can change all that. Look what you’ve already achieved in the area of indigenous art. What about a museum, solely to house aboriginal art, bark paintings and other art forms? You could consider that down the track. Make it self-supporting through a series of initiatives. There are many programmes, crying out for funding. You know my own family’s main interest is centred on saving children. You’ve been to the big charity dinners my grandmother regularly holds. She has carried on my grandfather’s work.’
‘And she’s worshipped,’ Francesca said, knowing that for a fact. ‘I don’t know that I can ever become another Lady Macallan.’
He leaned a little further towards her, surprising her by kissing her cheek. Just an affectionate gesture—one of countless she had received from him over the long years—yet it was more meaningful than the most ardent kiss any other man had ever given her.
‘All it’s going to take is a little time and experience. You’ve got everything else. And you’ve got my support. Any future ideas you might have that you want to discuss or thrash out you’ll have my attention.’
‘Thank you. I’m really going to need you.’ She felt as if she had been launched upon a big, cold and demanding world where power was everything. And now it had been handed to her, an unwilling and unprepared recipient.
‘We’re going to need one another.’ Bryn frowned at some passing thought.
‘What if Carina wants to contest the will, as she threatened?’ Francesca asked. ‘Wouldn’t she be justified? She is senior to me, and she’s Uncle Charles’s only child. Besides, she has always known how to get her father on side. The rest of the family will support her.’
Bryn gave a short laugh. ‘No, they won’t.’
‘You sound so sure?’ She turned her attention to examining his dynamic face. If only she could peel away all pretence, all the complex layers that lay between them.
‘The rest of the family are cool-headed,’ Bryn explained briskly. ‘Whereas Carina is a hothead. None of them actually trust her. I don’t even think they like her. They all know Charles is not right for the job. We’ve all known it for years. My grandfather spent a great deal of his time priming me. Ultimately for control. I won’t deny it. Francis Forsyth didn’t make Titan everything it is. My grandfather was the prime mover. Frank became something of an enforcer. Anyway, I knew what my grandfather wanted. I want it. Charles doesn’t. Carina can’t pretend she has the necessary qualifications—’
‘That’s why Grandfather wanted her to marry you,’ Francesca broke in. ‘The subject can’t be avoided, Bryn. He planned it all. A marriage between you and Carrie would have united the two families. Ended the war. Carina would have been happy, and well suited to playing the role of beautiful high society wife.’
‘It was a scheme thought up without considering me or my wishes,’ Bryn told her with heavy bluntness.
‘What are your wishes?’ She was terribly confused. Carina had taken every opportunity to let her know Bryn belonged to her. And there was no getting away from the fact she and Bryn had sustained an intimate relationship, even if Bryn claimed it was over.
‘Maybe you would suit me a whole lot better. What if I wanted to marry you?’ he asked, sounding as if he might be serious. ‘Let’s face it. You’re a very classy lady. Super-smart.’ His eyes were brilliant with mockery, flattery—what? Was it possible that Bryn, the quintessential businessman, had simply vaulted to the best possible option now that she was the Forsyth heiress?
Though her heart was racing, it was high time she got herself together. ‘I’ve never for a moment considered it,’ she said, amazed she could sound so composed. She had been raised to accept Bryn was for Carina. It was like an alliance, a tradition drawn from the Middle Ages. The knowledge had hung over her head like a sword.
‘I think you have, but you’ve covered it up.’ There was real gravity in his voice.
‘It’s not as if you don’t know why.’ She felt driven to spring up, away from him. It wasn’t easy to think when Bryn’s power over her was so strong. Those wild moments between them had not only compounded his power a thousandfold, but made it irreversible. It wasn’t easy living with a blazing obsession. It was the best and the worst kind of love. From childhood—hadn’t she survived because of him?—she had felt so close to him he might have been a kind of twin; a twin she had created lacking a sibling to love. Even as a child she’d had a remarkable insight into Carina’s nature. She had always known her cousin didn’t love her, never would. She had also known Bryn would forever stand between them.
Bryn, who was desperate to push the issue, had to relent. ‘You look played out.’ He spoke quietly. ‘Why don’t I go? You need time on your own. Time to recover and absorb everything that has happened. It’s been one long and gut-wrenching day. Death has its own contagion. I know you ached for your grandfather’s love and
