Outback Surrender

“You’re such a heartless bastard!”

“And you’re such a phony you make me want to puke.”

“You have no sense of family,” Philip flashed back, as though Brock had left a black stain on the Kingsley good name. “It’s no wonder Grandfather sent you and Aunt Catherine packing.”

The colour seemed to drain from Brock’s dark polished skin, and for a ghastly instant Shelley wondered whether he would leap for his cousin’s throat.

“Take no notice, Brock.” She made a grab for his hand, holding it as tightly as she could. “Why don’t you leave, Philip? You’ve delivered your message.”

Philip’s whole body stiffened. “I can’t believe you’re taking Brock’s part against me. You’re my friend. Not his.”

“You make that sound like Shelley’s your property,” Brock drawled, somehow moving back from furious anger. Who would have thought a small, feminine hand could hold him in such a hard crunch? Shelley Logan had to be taken seriously, he thought, abruptly amused.

“We have plans for the future,” Philip announced. “I’m very different to you, Brock. I want to make something of my life.”

A look of disdain came into Brock’s eyes. “Then you’ll have your work cut out, because you’re a gutless wonder. You hate that man just as much as I do. He’s made your life hell, but here you are trying to portray yourself as his noble, grieving grandson. No bets on what you and your mother are after. Kingsley Holdings. That’s why you set out to discredit and undermine me. God knows how you can shake off the guilt and the shame.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Philip said sharply, but he was unable to meet his cousin’s challenging stare.

“The plotting, Phil. The stories you carried to Kingsley. What did it matter that you couldn’t prove them? God, you two must have held a big party when we left.”

“Got kicked out, don’t you mean?” Philip sneered. “Grandfather gave you every chance. No one plotted against you. It was you who deliberately set out to anger and upset him. The sooner you realize that, the better. You didn’t know how to conduct yourself as a Kingsley should. You were wild. Wild from childhood.”

“Then you and your mother had nothing to worry about, did you? Except she had the brains to cotton on that you couldn’t measure up. Wild old me was cramping your style. I had to go. In retrospect, I’d call it an escape. It seems to me you’re the one who’s led the soul-destroying life. And thoroughly deserved it, don’t you think?”

“Grandfather wants you home,” Philip replied doggedly, his face stiff and expressionless.

“Surely you’re not here to collect me?” There was a shade of amusement in Brock’s eyes.

“I have the helicopter.” Philip glanced at Shelley, and then swiftly glanced away, as if the sight of her gave him pain.

“I’ve no intention of going back with you.” Brock was direct. “I’ll come back to Mulgaree when I’m ready. That’ll be tomorrow.”

“What if tomorrow’s too late?” Philip was roused to ask, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“C’est la vie!” Brock gave a truly Gallic shrug, his accent confirming he’d devoted time and attention to learning the French language. “But I don’t imagine that it will be. Kingsley will chose his exact moment to die. Only a handful of people can do that,” he added, with grudging admiration.

“You realize what it cost me to make this trip?” Philip complained. “To track you down here?” He threw another despairing glance in Shelley’s direction, as though she were guilty of serious disloyalty.

“Why the desperation?” Brock’s luminescent eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t it be in your interests to report that I’ve said I’ll come when I’m good and ready?”

“Don’t think I won’t. You’ve got a strange way of trying to engineer a reconciliation,” Philip said.

“And you’re still doing your mother’s dirty work.” Brock was clearly running out of patience.

Not even thick-skinned Philip could stay any longer. He raised himself up from the table, shaking his head dismally. He turned to Shelley imploringly.

“Looks like you’re finished. Could I walk you back to the hotel, Shelley? There’s something I need to talk to you about privately.”

Brock leaned back in his chair. “Is he serious?” he asked, directing a sparkling glance at Shelley. “Goodbye, Phil.”

Philip leaned down, speaking very quietly. “And you can go to hell.”

“I’m not going to hell, Phil.” Brock lifted clear, daunting eyes. “I’m putting my house in order. But give me one good reason why you shouldn’t.”

“I’m just as big a victim as ever you were,” Philip said, very bitterly for someone who’d just avowed love and concern for his grandfather.

“I know that, Phil.” Brock waved his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t think I’ll let you win. I haven’t slaved all these years for nothing. I won’t take it.”

“Me neither.”

Philip continued to stand, obviously struggling for control. Shelley felt a thrust of pity. “Just go, Philip. Don’t say any more. People are looking this way.”

“Let them,” Philip said, body rigid, face bitter. “I thought I was certain of you, Shelley. Certain of the sort of person you were. Now I’m less certain.”

“That could be a plus,” she said crisply. “Please go.”

“I will.” His tone suggested she had fallen far in his estimation. “Don’t be fool enough to trust my cousin. Brock and his reputation with the girls go back a long way.”

“I always made sure I didn’t hurt anyone,” Brock remarked, having the last word.

Harriet was seated on a white lattice-backed chair behind the cash register, attending to the bills of her departing guests. When his turn came Brock pulled out a handful of dollars and handed it to her. “That was an outstanding meal, Miss Crompton. We thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Harriet smiled back, but her grey eyes were searching. “Everything all right? I’m sorry, but I had to tell Philip where you were.”

Brock shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

“He told me your grandfather’s condition is worsening,” Harriet said quietly into the lull, including Shelley in her glance.

“I guess I’ll find out when I get back.”

“I hope things go well for you, Daniel.”

Brock laughed. “Gosh, doesn’t that take me back! I think you’re the only person in Koomera Crossing who ever called me Daniel.”

“You look like a Daniel,” Harriet said. “Daniel in the lions’ den. I’ve got to warn you. Nothing’s changed.”

“You mean with the old man?”

“And the rest of the family.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Miss Crompton.”

“That’s not much, I imagine,” Harriet said wryly, thinking the striking young man in front of her had had a very rough childhood and adolescence. Far worse than his cousin, Philip, who never did a solitary thing to try his grandfather’s very limited patience.

“How are things on Wybourne, Shelley?” Harriet asked as they settled up. “I hear you can’t keep up with business?”