Chapter Two
Things had moved so fast she really hadn’t had enough time to consider the huge step she had taken. Now it was too late. The three-hour domestic flight from Brisbane to Longreach in Outback Queensland was coming in to land. She was to be met at the airport by someone from the station. She didn’t for one moment think it would be Scott. No matter what soothing words Sophie had offered, she knew Scott would be furious his mother had invited her for Christmas.
The big question, however, was not why Sophie had invited her. It was why she had accepted Sophie’s invitation. The divorce had been very public. The MacArthurs were among the nation’s pioneering families.
Scott, when she had confronted him with his alleged betrayal, had reacted with a proud man’s fury and utter disbelief. He had called her, among other deeply upsetting names, a “gullible little fool.” According to Scott she had been hypnotized for years by her aunt. “Aren’t I supposed to come first with you, not your ego maniac aunt?” Rebecca was “a conniving bitch with the IQ of an onion” who had never impressed him as Darcey’s friend. Rather, Becky was a parasite who had fed off Darcey and her “foolishly kind heart.”
The husband she had adored treating her like a hapless teenager had been the last straw for Darcey. Where was the respect? Scott’s tirade had left her distraught and overwhelmed. She had retaliated from the bottom of her beaten-to-a-pulp heart. Her trust in Scott, her husband, had been profound. When subjected to his real opinion of her and his violent dislike of the aunt who had always been there for her threw her into a quandary that could only be solved by separation. Divorce? She had shuddered away from that at the beginning even as she was aware she had made herself dependent not only on her aunt but the husband she had adored. She had felt undervalued and unrespected. The time had surely come for her to emerge from the chrysalis of her tragic youth.
Marry in haste, repent at leisure.
The fallout from their separation had been enormous. Family and friends had taken sides as in a mammoth battle. Her father, while not exactly on Scott’s side, had found Scott’s alleged betrayal extremely hard to believe.
“I can see Rachael’s meddlesome fingers in all this, but God knows why! She used to fancy herself in competition with your mother, believe it or not. But that could hardly apply to you.”
It was impossible to believe her aunt would lie to her. Aunt Rachael had trained herself to be utterly truthful, as Darcey was herself. Aunt Rachael held to her solemn belief she had been doing the right thing warning her niece. Her opinion held a lot of sway. Rachael Richardson was known to be an upstanding woman within the wide community and a scrupulously honest businesswoman. Her devotion to her niece was well known. Besides, there was Rebecca’s testimony, to which Rebecca held fast. Rebecca had had nothing to gain but the loss of a well-connected and generous friend.
At that terrible time, both she and Scott had not been able to get their emotions under control. Both had erected huge impregnable walls around themselves, with one side refusing to acknowledge the other until the divorce had gone through. The MacArthurs were amongst the wealthiest families in the country. Darcey had been adamant she wanted no settlement. She had been advised by her lawyers to accept one. She had never in the intervening two years touched a cent of it.
Ultimately she had to confront the fact she had trusted her aunt above the husband she had professed to love. Agony though it was, her decision at the time had seemed straightforward. She couldn’t live with betrayal. She wasn’t the first woman, she wouldn’t be the last. Could any man be relied upon to be utterly faithful? Aunt Rachael said not. Adultery struck at the very foundation of marriage. She had come to terms with the fact the past and her vulnerable nature had made her overly emotional. Her basic confidence had been shot to pieces by the death of her mother.
As a young girl she had experienced intense grief and uncertainty over what life might bring. Her father had organized therapy for her. The therapy had helped. She had developed to the extent she performed exceptionally well at university and made many friends. University had proved to be a “safe” environment.
Once she had graduated with a first class architectural degree, her father’s old firm had approached her. Flattered, she had signed on. Her work became her life. People regarded her as a clever, capable young woman.
Everyone had their secrets.
She had returned to her old firm six months after the divorce had been finalized. This current year she had won a prestigious award for her design for a country farmhouse. She had not exceeded her youngish clients’ relatively modest budget, but she had delivered a farmhouse everyone in the farming district they lived in admired.
Since then she had gone freelance with surprising success. She was her own boss! Success had to be applauded. Her father and Anne had told her many times how proud they were of her. Indeed, they had wanted her to come to London, but as a Queenslander she didn’t know how she would cope long term with the English climate and the everlasting rain. As an English dignitary once said to a visiting Arab prince, “I believe you worship the sun,” to which the prince replied, “So would you if you ever saw it.”
The domestic flight touched down right on time, releasing the passengers into Outback heat. The tarmac was red hot, the air thick as molasses. She was glad she had travelled in lightweight clothing, navy loose-legged pants with a double white stripe and a white cotton camisole edged in navy, with open-toed leather sandals on her feet. Her long blue-black hair she had pulled back from her face and secured in an updated knot. She was shaking with nerves inside though no one would have known it from her composed face and demeanour. One of the rewards of therapy.
The way she had acted with Scott . . . Dear God! Her cringeworthy behaviour couldn’t have been farther from her norm. She had flown at him in an unprecedented rage, rejecting out of hand his instant furious redhead’s response. She could still hear that hateful voice she had somehow acquired like a tinnitus in her head. Where had the hostility come from after all they had shared together? The answer? The love of her life had betrayed her. Threatened all that she had held dear. Such a loss had been unbearable for her. Didn’t Scott understand that? Grief was all in the mind, her analyst had assured her, only she had not yet learned to control her mind. She could control her body. Her daily run, her hard work and devotion to her profession kept her sane.
Success or not, you’re in a rut.
Then another grace note sent out of the blue. Sophie had written to her. It was one of Sophie’s grand gestures. Once upon a time Darcey and her mother-in-law had been very close. Sophie had many of the same heart-warming qualities as the mother Darcey had lost. She had written her acceptance reply half sobbing all the while, signing off, With love, Darcey.
She wanted to go back to Planet Downs. She wanted to see the family again. They had been so kind to her. They had been shattered by her and Scott’s mutual decision to divorce. Above all she wanted to see Scott again. Things had to be put right. Accounts had to be settled. Christmas surely had to be the best time for reconciliation.
Inside the large light-filled terminal it was blessedly cool. The locals back home from trips to the “Big Smoke” were being met by family members. Tourists en route to Darwin, the gateway to Australia, wandered back and forth to a lively thrum of noise and conversation.
She needed to wait for the passenger luggage to be unloaded. It shouldn’t take long. She had brought two large pieces with her. The evening dress for the ball had taken up one piece alone. It wouldn’t be her first ball on the station. Such wonderful times! Her memories threatened to make her cry. She had always been too emotional. After Scott, she had found she couldn’t respond to other men. While she gave out no come-on signals, there were quite a few wanting to take his place. Only no one measured up to her Scott, the husband she had once loved with all her heart.
Even in the crowded terminal she became aware of a ripple that was stirring up the air. There was an abrupt cessation of conversation as well. What was happening? She was sufficiently curious to turn her head.
What she saw took her breath away.
A stunningly handsome man well over six feet wearing a dark blue Lacoste polo shirt, fitted jeans, high boots on his feet had entered the terminal. He had a shock of dark auburn hair, burnished when it caught a stray ray of sunlight; hair that would catch anyone’s attention.
Scott!
Her mind jammed.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak.
Past and present blurred.
There was such a hard pressure of her every breath she might have been a woman suffering from broken ribs. Whatever she had imagined, it wasn’t this.
Get control. Her inner voice broke in. This isn’t the time to allow your emotions to run riot.
Scott was making towards her, his long strides as sleek and powerful as a big cat’s. Scott was far more than just a handsome man. He radiated presence. Authority. This was a man who would come off well no matter how difficult the situation. The women in the area, true to form, were staring at him open mouthed. Some were whispering among themselves. Some were even gasping with vicarious excitement.
He isn’t a visiting movie star. He’s my ex-husband.
The magnitude of the man was enough to overwhelm any woman. Darcey was fearful now that she was here, she might not be able to cope. Emotional tears had sprung into her eyes. She put up a hand to snatch a teardrop away. How she had missed him! Once such an admission would have had to be dragged out of her, but in truth she had never gone beyond her heartbreaking memories. She had thought of him every single day. How many times—forty, fifty, sixty? Come night-time, she had been desperate for the weight of his body on hers, the shuddering ecstasy of their lovemaking. There had been no solace anywhere. Scott had set the benchmark against which all other men were judged. She had lived life without him, overcome by loss.
But she still had her pride. Not that it had done her any good.
He reached her in no time. Startlingly blue eyes swept over her, deliberately appraising. “Darcey, darling!”
His voice had always had a great physical attraction for her. Deep, dark, resonant, cultured. The voice of a man born to wealth and privilege. There was no love, no tenderness in his blue-fire eyes. She heard the contempt in the “darling” if no one else did. People were smiling as if witnessing a rapturous lovers’ reunion.
“How wonderful to see you. Two years? It could be a lifetime.”
For a long moment he held her sea-grey eyes. Then matching decision to action, he reached for her, folding her in tight to his tall, lean body kissing her long and hard on the mouth.
Hunger and Punishment.
Both emotions seemed to mingle in a sensual exchange that had to be born out of sheer starvation. Love might have flown, but sexual attraction never died. She did not attempt to fight his inevitable dominion. She couldn’t. Their bodies fit exactly as they used to, in exactly the same places. Their bodies refused to play the game of pretence. She clung to him until he let her go, though he kept one steadying hand at her back. A habit unbroken by time.
Her mouth was throbbing. Adrenalin was blasting like a tornado through her veins. It was too easy to remember. The force of him! His arms around her! Her utter belief that with Scott she was safe.
This is what it means to belong to a man.
“You’re well, surely? Tell me you’re fine?” he asked, drawing back to gaze down on her, mockery in his dazzling blue eyes.
You’re not the wretched heartbroken young woman you once were, Darcey.
“Peace to you too, Scott,” she answered, breathless. “How glad I am to see you’ve conquered the ghosts of the past.”
“Ghosts? What ghosts?” He took her nerveless arm, shepherding her towards the luggage chute as if they didn’t have a moment to lose before they could be alone.
“Seriously, I applaud your positive attitude.” Despite their long separation, she remained incredibly attuned to him.
“But Darcey, darling, I was always positive. You must remember that?” He kept a smile on his face for the benefit of the seriously avid onlookers. “Why have you come?”
She took a deep breath. “Sophie asked me.”
“Even though you must know you’ve walked recklessly into my den?”
“Isn’t there something medieval about that?” she asked. “You know, demons and dragons?”
“Strong emotions remain the same down the ages, Darcey. But of course, you are egging me on. That’s what women do, isn’t it?”
“You could have said no. I would have respected that,” she said endeavouring to lessen the tremendous build-up of emotion.
“Really?” His cutting tone tossed her answer aside. “Please don’t talk to me about respect.”
She was silent for a moment. “Is this to be the sum of it, Scott? I rather hoped we could get through this. I don’t want bad feeling between us.”
His answer couldn’t have been more direct. “You expect me to share that sentiment?”
“For Sophie’s sake.”
“You’re suggesting neutral territory?”
“If it’s at all possible?”
“Less of an embarrassment that way,” he agreed. “I think this is my mother’s ill-conceived effort to bring us back together.”
“I’m so sorry if you think that.” She dared glance up at him, the strong regular features.
“Ah, the sweetness of your voice, Darcey!” he mocked. “Before we shove the matter aside, can you tell me one thing? Have you ever once thought you should have believed me?”
“I’ve come close,” was all she was prepared to say.
“Manipulation by charm. You’re so damned good at it. I’m surprised you haven’t remarried.” He glanced down at her lovely face with its Madonna-like serenity. Even in the searing heat she looked as cool as a lily. Her skin always did have the lustre of a pearl. He had a sharp memory of dipping his head into the skin of her face, her throat, her breasts . . . “Or can’t you let go?”
“I’m fine. I have my work.”
“And awards too, I hear. My congratulations. I remember the time when you wanted to make changes to the homestead.”
“I don’t deny it, but that was in due course. I recall you were considering it.”
“I would have given you the sun, moon, and stars,” he said with acid self-deprecation.
“How’s Ashlee?” she asked, to change the subject.
“The same as ever.” He spoke dismissively.
“Then she’s still in love with you.”
“Along with others.” That delivered with black humour.
Only it wasn’t a joke. Scott had to be one of the most eligible men in the country.
“I’m not going to marry Ashlee, Darcey, if that’s what you’re asking. I never was going to marry Ashlee.”
“Does she know?”
Only then did she remember how much Ashlee Hunter had disliked her, though dislike was too tame a word. She would have her work cut out for her getting a hello out of Ashlee.
“I pray she does,” he said shortly.
“Hope springs eternal.”
“That’s the vanity of women. Why don’t we forget Ashlee. She’ll find the right man. I loved you more than I can say, Darcey. Ashlee was on the scene then, remember? We married. Marriage means getting through the highs and the lows. Or it does to me. It means commitment. Only you were just a little lost girl, not the woman I thought you were. It takes time getting over betrayal. I can’t understand what possessed you to come.”
“Forgiveness, Scott,” she said, low-voiced.
He shrugged, unmoved. “Not yet. Not ever!” He gave her a glance that told her she was quite mad to think otherwise.
“Forgiveness on both sides,” she suggested, her breath quaking. “You might give a thought to your own behaviour.”
“Your accusations surpassed all understanding. Anyway, it’s all history now.” He gave an ironic shrug. “My mother wants you here. She’s extraordinarily fond of you, God knows why. Why else do you think I’ve come for you? I love my mother though she will interfere.”
“She wants what’s best for you, Scott.”
He gave a brief laugh. “Then one has to question her decision to invite you. I realize she wants me to find happiness again. Only, my dear Darcey, that woman certainly isn’t going to be you.”
His words would have crushed her, only her heart was already crushed. “I accept that, Scott,” she said, bowing her glossy raven head. “Sophie did say you’d missed me.”
“Not true,” he snapped. “My mother specializes in cases of emotional drama. I’m not good at forgiveness, Darcey. Not in your case anyway. Our marriage was as substantial as a desert mirage. I expect why you’ve really come is to assuage your guilt.”
“Like it or not, Scott. I’m here. I promise I won’t bother you in any way.”
“Thank you,” he said suavely, “though I doubt you could. I’ve always—” He broke off as a boy old enough to know better came careening at them with a laden luggage trolley. It seemed inevitable to Darcey it would hit her. She even made a little sound of alarm, but Scott moved swiftly. He threw a strong arm around her and pulled her out of harm’s way.
“You okay?” he asked with what had to be sharp, temporary concern.
“I’m fine.” When she was on the fine edge of despair?
“Wait here.” He strode away before she could say another word. He went after the boy, easily catching up with him. He was talking so quietly his resonant voice didn’t reach her, but the boy was looking at him, his ears red, his expression over-awed and thoroughly repentant.
Darcey turned away. There were always lessons in life to be learned. Mercifully the passenger luggage had arrived. It was already rolling down the chute.
Scott, on his way back, made directly for the chute. He gave her a wry backwards glance when he pulled her two heavy pieces off the chute and set them down on the ground.
“Is this your entire wardrobe here? Just how long is it you plan to stay?” he asked sardonically, when he joined her.
Colour lit the delicate slant of her cheekbones. “It’s the evening dress,” she explained. “It took up most of one case.”
For a split second Scott’s mask slipped. There was strong emotion there. Emotion of a man who felt himself threatened by his own needs? “I daresay you’ll be belle of the ball again. Just like old times. Times we both know are forever closed to us.”
That painful knowledge made her wince.
Don’t cry.
Dammit, I won’t!
* * *
She hadn’t expected Scott would have come for her in the Beech Baron for such a short flight. He had flown in one of the station’s blue and silver choppers with the station’s insignia, a stylized PD. Planet Downs was one of the very first cattle stations to be established in the mid 1880s in the Australian Outback. Indeed, the Channel Country was known to the nation as the home of the cattle kings.
Tears were trapped behind her eyes. Nothing seemed changed, she thought, her heart swelling as she looked down. How mighty was the land! So full of mystique and countless aboriginal legends.
They were across the station’s south-eastern border now, in sight of the homestead, surrounded by its numerous satellite buildings. It truly was a kingdom in the middle of the wilds. A kingdom almost devoid of human habitation. The sight couldn’t have appeared more dramatic to Darcey, the exile.
Planet Downs had been given its name because in the nineteenth century when it was founded, the furnace red soil was thought to be akin to the burning red soil of Planet Mars. It wasn’t all that long ago NASA had revealed Planet Mars wasn’t red at all, but a disappointing brown.
The vast landscape beneath them, however, was a fiery red in stark contrast to the thousands and thousands of golden spinifex mounds that covered the expanse like fields of wheat. Looking down, it was easy to see some of the numerous water channels that criss-crossed the region and gave it its name appeared to be running near dry. This would be of great concern, although Planet Downs was blessed with several billabongs and creeks that held permanent water.
The entire Outback was praying for rain. She, Darcey Gilmore, once Darcey MacArthur, had been praying as well. At the end of December they were into the monsoon season of the tropical north. Fire and flood were the real tragedies of the land. But rain! Rain turned the parched region into a wonderland of wild flowers. Every lake, water channel, billabong and lignum swamp on Planet Downs overflowed, bringing in legions of nomadic birds to nest.
Once Scott had led her down a near-inaccessible wild lignum swamp to where the pelicans had come to build their nests. She remembered that adventure with intensity. Scott didn’t make that offer to everyone any more than to show them the aboriginal rock paintings in the Hill Country. These were privileges.