Marriage At A Price

Courtney felt the first stirrings of real alarm. ‘Are you saying Crosswinds is at risk here? That one day I might have to sell up?’

‘If things keep going the way they’re going, and you don’t try to stem the rising tide of this loan, then I’m afraid such an occurrence will be inevitable. The bank will do it for you.’

Courtney just sat there, staring at him.

How could she bear to live without Crosswinds? The house. The horses. The land. It was all she knew and loved. It was her lifeblood. She would die without it.

Real pity for the girl swept through William. He hated having to do this so soon after her mother’s death, but such things couldn’t wait. A loan as large as this grew every day, especially now that interest rates were on the rise again. That loan was like the sword of Damocles, swaying over Courtney’s head.

‘If you want my opinion,’ he said firmly, ‘then you should sell some of the horses. And quickly. You have some very valuable brood mares at Crosswinds.’

A scathing look crossed the girl’s face.

‘Sell the brood mares? Are you mad? Do you know how long it took my mother and her family before her to breed up such stock? The brood mares are the backbone of Crosswinds. They are invaluable. I’d sell myself before I sold a single one of them!’

William smothered a sigh. Oh, yes. She was a chip off the old block all right. That was exactly what Hilary had said when he’d suggested the same thing a few days before her heart attack, right down to the bit about selling herself first.

He’d refrained from telling Hilary she was hardly a saleable commodity.

But her daughter was a different matter. As William’s male gaze roved over the girl before him, a startling picture popped into his mind, that of a bound and naked Courtney standing proudly on some white slave trader’s auction block, her magnificent black hair spread out over her bared shoulders, her beautiful brown eyes blazing defiance at the lust-filled bidders leering up at her.

What a price she would command! He could well imagine some billionaire sheikh paying a king’s ransom to install Courtney Cross in his harem.

Did such things happen these days? he speculated. Possibly. But not here, in Australia.

Still, it did give William the germ of an idea…

Courtney got hold of her temper with difficulty. But, truly, Bill didn’t know what he was talking about. He might know money, but he knew nothing about horses.

‘How long do you think I’ve got?’ she demanded to know. ‘How long before the bank starts jumping up and down? One year? Two? Dare I hope for three?’

William suspected the bank in question might carry such a mortgage indefinitely—till it would take more than a miracle for Courtney to extricate herself from debt. In the end, they’d foreclose, and Crosswinds would be sold off, including Courtney’s precious brood mares. The trouble was, in such a fire sale, nothing brought its true value. If Courtney wasn’t careful, she’d not only lose Crosswinds, but there wouldn’t be anything left over for her to live on. She’d be penniless.

He had to force the girl to do something now, or all might be lost in the future.

‘It’ll be the first of August this Saturday,’ he said. ‘I’d say you might have till the end of the year.’

‘But that isn’t enough time!’ she protested. ‘You’ll have to talk to the bank, Bill, explain to them that in another couple of years I’m going to have a fantastic lot of yearlings to sell. Mum might have been foolish in some things but she was a great judge of horseflesh. Goldplated is going to be a success. I just know it. Within three years, Crosswinds will have money to burn.’

William sighed. He’d heard that one before. From Hilary. Over the years, he’d learnt that there was no such thing as a sure thing regarding racehorses, either on the track or in breeding.

‘Courtney,’ he said sternly, ‘you must find a way to pay back that loan. And soon.’

‘Well, don’t go telling me to sell my horses again,’ she threw at him, her face set into a mutinous expression, ‘because I’m not going to. And that’s final! There has to be some other way.’

‘I can think of only two other solutions to your problem. Although, come to think of it, only one is viable,’ he added drily.

What multi-millionaire would want to actually marry this difficult, stubborn, bossy girl? Beauty alone would not cut it, especially her kind of beauty which was of the wild and natural kind. Wealthy men wanted glamorous, well-groomed wives who stroked their egos and hosted perfect dinner parties, not independent, prickly creatures with an attitude, as well as a money problem.

‘What?’ Courtney’s right foot hit the ground as she hunched forward on the chair, all ears. ‘Tell me.’

‘You’ll have to find yourself a business partner, someone who’ll pay cash for a share in Crosswinds.’

Pulling a face, Courtney straightened up in the chair. ‘Nope. That won’t work, Bill. No horseman would buy a share in Crosswinds and keep his hands off the running of the place. Mum would turn in her grave. And I wouldn’t like it, either.’

‘I wasn’t talking about a horseman,’ William explained. ‘I was talking about a professional businessman. A city man. He would be a silent partner.’

‘Oh, well, now that’s the kind of partner I could just about tolerate. So how would I go about finding such a stooge?’

William winced at the word ‘stooge’. But it probably described any potential partner of Courtney’s to a tee.

‘I was thinking that you could ask Lois’s help. She’s a clever woman, not just at training horses but in public relations. She’s a whiz at getting money out of people for her racing syndicates. She also has some very wealthy clients and a wide range of contacts in the business world. I would think Lois knows quite a few likely candidates with more money than sense.’

William saw the girl’s nostrils flare indignantly. ‘Are you saying that a man would have to be stupid to go into partnership with me?’

His smile was wry. ‘Not you personally. But a wise old accountant once told me never to invest money into anything that had to be fed or watered.’

Courtney sighed. ‘You’re right. Breeding racehorses is a risky investment. This businessman is going to have to be one hell of a rich businessman.’

‘Businessmen who get mixed up with racehorses in any aspect usually are, aren’t they?’

‘True, Bill. True. Look, I can’t say I fancy taking a partner, even a silent one, but what must be must be. Better than selling any of the horses. I’ll give Lois a ring as soon as I get home. I could hitch a ride down in the horse float this Friday. I’m sending down a couple of young horses she’s agreed to syndicate out and train for me. Darned good types, too, but obviously Crosswinds can’t afford to pay for them to be trained right now.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ William confirmed, relieved that Courtney was taking it all so well. Still, he wouldn’t have expected Hilary’s daughter to fall apart.

‘I can’t stay away too long, you know. Come this weekend, foals will start arriving.’

‘You have staff to handle that. Finding a partner is more important, Courtney.’

‘Mmm. Before I go, what about insurance? I don’t want to make the same mistake Mum did.’

‘I insured everything after your mother died,’ William confessed. ‘I didn’t want to bother you at the time for permission. I hope you don’t mind.’

Courtney smiled as she rose to her feet, extending her hand across the desk. ‘Not at all. Thanks, Bill. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

He flinched at the steely strength in her handshake. No wonder the horses she rode did as they were told.

‘There’s no trouble with our general running expenses, is there?’ she asked.

‘No. Cash input is matching output at the moment. Of course, the place could do with some money spent on it. It’s beginning to look run down. So if you and Lois are going to sting some city fool for three million, you might as well try for four, and be done with it.’

She grinned at him. ‘Bill! You shock me.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ he remarked drily. ‘By the way, if Lois can’t come up with anyone suitable, I suggest you approach a financial consultancy which specialises in handling country-based investments. But that’s a last resort. Middlemen always want their cut. A personal contact deal would be much better all round.’

‘I agree. If I have to have a partner, then I’d like to have some control over who it is. Now, I’d better get moving. Friday will be here before I know it.’

‘Good luck, Courtney.’