A Wife At Kimbara

“You have all your Granddaddy’s great fighting heart and spirit, Broderick. I know you’re going to live up to the legend!”

Jock McTavish knew how to size a man up. In the many shattering confrontations Brod had had with his father over the years he tried to hold fast to Sir Jock’s words. It hadn’t been easy when his father had never ceased trying to grind him down.

Brod sighed and thrust his father’s letter into the pocket of his jeans. He had no desire to travel so far, he told himself. It was one hell of an overland trek from Marlu to the Kinross stronghold in the Channel Country in the far south west of the giant state of Queensland. Plus he was too damned busy. If he went at all he would have to fly. His father sure hadn’t offered to pick him up in the Beech Baron. He’d have to call up the Camerons as he did frequently even after Ally’s breakup with Rafe.

He’d grown up with the Cameron brothers, Rafe and Grant. The history of the Kinross and Cameron families was the history of the Outback. It was their Scottish ancestors themselves, close friends from childhood who had pioneered the fabled region in the process turning themselves into cattle barons. Both dynasties had survived. Not only survived, flourished.

Sudden frustration seized him. He remembered as vividly as yesterday the time Ally had come to tell him she couldn’t marry Rafe. She was going away. A journey of self-discovery she called it. Her romance with Rafe was simply too overwhelming for comfort.

“But hell, Ally, you love him!” He could hear his own disbelieving voice. “And he sure as hell is crazy about you.”

“I love him with every breath that’s in me,” Ally had responded passionately, fiercely wiping tears from her face. “But you don’t know what it’s like, Brod. All the girls fall for you, but not a one of them has touched your heart. Rafe squeezes the heart out of me, do you see? I’m sick of him and sick with him. He’s more than I can take on.”

Bewildered he had ploughed on. “So he’s forceful? A man’s man. He’s not in the least like our father. There’s nothing dark and frightening about Rafe, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s one hell of a guy. What’s got into you, Ally? Rafe is my best friend. The Kinross’es and the Camerons are damned near related. We all thought your marriage to Rafe would finally unite our two families. Even the old man is all for it going ahead. Marvellous choice and all that. Couldn’t be more suitable.” He aped his father’s deep, polished tones.

“I can’t do it, Brod,” Ally had insisted. “Not yet. I have to learn a lot more about myself before I take on Rafe. I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you. Father will be furious.” Her beautiful clear green eyes darkened at the prospect.

He had taken her in his arms then, hugging her to him. “You could never disappoint me, Ally,” he told her. “My love for you is too great. My respect for your wisdom and spirit. Maybe its because you’re so young. Barely twenty. You have your whole life in front of you. Go with my blessing but for God’s sake come back to Rafe.”

“If he’ll have me.” Ally had tried to smile through her tears.

It hadn’t happened. Rafe had never seriously been drawn to another woman but the one person they never talked about was Alison. That subject was taboo. Tough, self-sufficient as he was giving no sign of hurting, Brod knew. Ally had dealt his friend a near mortal blow.

Momentarily disconsolate he stared sightless through the open doorway. Five years later and Ally still hadn’t returned home. Ally like Fee had developed quite a talent for acting. Something in the genes. Ally had just won a Logie for best actress in a TV series drama playing a young doctor in a country town. She was enormously popular for her beauty and charm, the way she gave such life and conviction to her frequently affecting role. He was full of admiration for her but he really missed her; the comfort and humour of her company. God knows how Rafe, being Rafe, coped with the bitterness of rejection that must have accumulated in his heart? He didn’t take it out on him though Grant, the younger brother had been known to fire off a few salvos. Rafe and Grant were as close as he and Ally. To hurt one was to hurt the other. Both brothers would be certain starters in the main polo match the coming Saturday afternoon. Both excellent players though Rafe had the edge. But neither was going to faze him.

He liked the going tough and dangerous and he didn’t think he’d have too much trouble persuading one or both to join his team despite his father and he’d need their help getting to Kimbara.

The Cameron’s historic station Opal Plains bordered Kimbara on its north-northeast border. Grant ran a helicopter service from Opal that covered their part of Outback while Rafe was master of the vast station. Aristocrats of the Outback, the press called all three of them. They presented a polished front to the world, but there had been plenty of sadness and tragedy in their lives.

No, even if he could cadge a ride with Rafe and Grant he had no desire to confront either his father or the magnolia skinned Rebecca. If the truth be told he couldn’t bear to see them together. His father showing that seemingly flawless young woman all the exquisite care and consideration he had never accorded his daughter, let alone his wife.

Often to amuse as much as torment himself he conjured up the ridiculous picture of Stewart Kinross down on his knees before the luminous eyed Miss Hunt begging for her hand in marriage. His father so rich and powerful he thought he was invincible. So sure of his virility, he thought he possessed such sexual magnetism he could easily attract a woman half his age. If it weren’t so damned likely it would be funny. Women couldn’t resist power and money. Especially not adventuresses.

He’d have to find out a little bit more about Miss Rebecca Hunt, he decided. She was remarkably close lipped about her past though he knew from the blurb on the back of the recent biography she’d been born in Sydney in 1973. That made her twenty-seven. Three years younger than he. The rest went on to list the not inconsiderable achievements of her short career.

She had been named Young Journalist of the year at the age of twenty-four. She’d worked with the Australian Broadcasting Commission, SBS and Channel 9. Two years with the British Press. A book of interviews with the rich and famous. The diva’s biography. Now Aunt Fee.

Next to nothing about her private life, though. It might have been as blank as a nun’s only Miss Rebecca Hunt behind the cool facade was so absolutely fascinating she couldn’t have escaped at least a few sexual encounters. If she was footloose it had to be by choice. Was she waiting for the right man? Charming, clever, rich and powerful.

Most people thought Stewart Kinross was just that, until little bits of him occasionally seeped out. The ego, the self-centeredness, the caustic tongue. But when he set out to, Brod had to admit, his father could be dazzling. A young woman like Miss Rebecca Hunt was bound to be socially ambitious. If she took on his father she would get more than she bargained for, the conniving little witch. He almost felt a stab of pity.

No, he didn’t want to go, he told himself, suddenly realising he wanted to go very much.

CHAPTER TWO

REBECCA was standing on the upstairs balcony looking out over Kimbara’s magnificent home gardens when Stewart Kinross finally tracked her down, as purposefully as a hunter tracks his quarry.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” he smiled indulgently, as he moved to join her at the balustrade. “A bit of news I thought you might like to hear.”

She swung to face him, so lovely he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Then let’s hear it!” Rebecca responded brightly, shying away from the thought her host had taken quite a fancy to her. A thought too embarrassing to pursue. For all his wealth, suavity and charm, Stewart Kinross was of an age with her father. Not that a man as rich and handsome as that couldn’t get just about any woman he wanted. But not her. Involvement, even with a man her own age wasn’t an option. Peace of body, mind and heart were too important. Yet Stewart Kinross was looking at her delightedly out of grey-green eyes.

“I’ve organised one of my famous polo weekends for your enjoyment,” he told her, realising she was making him feel younger with every passing day. “The Matches will be followed by a gala ball, Saturday night with a big breakfast cum brunch in the garden Sunday morning through to noon. After that our guests like to get off home. Most fly, some make the overland trek.

“It sounds exciting.” Rebecca struggled a little to sound enthusiastic. In truth her heart was thumping though none of her disquiet showed in her face. “I’ve never actually attended a polo match.”

“Why do you think I’ve organised this weekend?” he chuffed, his handsome mouth curving beneath a full, beautifully clipped moustache. “I overheard you telling Fee.”

She felt a sudden loss of safety. Stewart Kinross for all his charm was a man who was used to getting what he wanted. It would be a disaster if he wanted something from her she couldn’t possibly provide. “You’re very kind to me, Stewart,” she managed to say. “You and Fiona,” she stressed. “I do appreciate it.”

“You’re very easy to be kind to, my dear.” He tried to keep the feeling out of his voice but failed. “And you’re making Fee so happy with what you’re doing with her book.”

“Fee has a fascinating story to tell.” Rebecca turned slightly away from him, leaning her slender body against the white wrought-iron balustrade. “She knows everyone who’s anyone in the English theatre as well as so many powerful international figures. There’s just so much subject matter. An abundance of it.”

“Fee has lived a full life,” he agreed somewhat dryly. “She’s a born actress as is my daughter, Alison.”

His voice was surprisingly cool for a proud father.

“Yes, I’ve seen her many times on television,” Rebecca said admiringly. “Some of the episodes have been remarkably affecting because of the wonderful quality of her acting. She brings her character, the country doctor, to such life. I’d love to meet her.”

“I don’t think you’ll see Alison back here.” He sighed with evident regret. “She’s well and truly settled in Sydney. She rarely comes home on a visit. Then, I sometimes think, it’s only to see Brod not the father she’s almost forgotten.”

Rebecca looked at him more sympathetically.

“How can that be? I’m sure she misses you. Being the star of a top rating television series must put a lot of pressure on her. I imagine she has very little free time.”

“Alison was raised in the Outback,” Stewart Kinross said his expression judgemental. “On Kimbara which if I say so myself is a magnificent inheritance. She has no need to work.”

“You can’t mean you’d deny her a career?” Rebecca was taken aback.

“Of course not.” He took his cue from her tone. “But Alison made a lot of people unhappy when she left. Not the least the man who loved and trusted her. Rafe Cameron.”

“Ah the Camerons.” Rebecca remembered all the stories she’d heard. “I researched their family history at the same time I was researching yours. Two great pioneering families. Legends of the Outback.”

He accepted her accolade as though she were speaking directly about him. “Our families have always been very close. It was my dearest wish Alison would marry Rafe. A splendid young man. But she chose an acting career just like Fee. I’m telling you because you’ll be meeting Rafe at the polo. I’ve scheduled it for the weekend after next.

“Rafe will never forgive, never forget what Alison did to him and even as Alison’s father I don’t blame him. Rafe is Brod’s best friend, I think a good steadying influence on him. Brod is a rebel, which you might have gathered. Has been since his childhood. A pity because it makes for a lot of friction between us.”

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca responded. “Will he be coming for your weekend?”

“He’s certainly been invited.” Stewart Kinross looked away over her head. “But Brod likes to keep me begging. The thing is he’s needed to captain the opposing team. At least he inherited his prowess from me. I expect I’ll hear from him at his leisure. I’m very keen for this to go well, Rebecca. I want you to enjoy your time out here as much as possible.”

“It’s wonderful to be here, Stewart,” Rebecca said, her heart sinking at the look in his eyes.

“What would you say to a ride this afternoon.” He put his hand on her arm leading her back into the house lest she escape him.

“That would be lovely, Stewart,” she responded, careful to inject a note of regret, “but Fiona has need of me. We’re really moving along with the book.”