Master Of Maramba. Margaret Way
perfume.
“You’ve been crying?” he said.
“I have not.” She knew she sounded nervy.
“Your stepsister doesn’t look in the least like you.”
“Not surprising, I’m said to be the image of my mother.”
“She must have been very lovely.”
“Yes.” Carrie answered simply as though it wasn’t a compliment to herself.
“I can well see your stepmother might give you a hard time,” he remarked rather grimly.
She turned her head in surprise. Glenda had been at her social best. “Didn’t she act welcoming enough?”
“Indeed she did. She was very pleasant. I just happened to spot something in her eyes. Are you all right?” he asked after a minute.
“I’m absolutely fine.” Carrie decided it was time to get right to the point. “Why are you here, Mr. McQuillan? Somehow you’ve given my stepmother and sister the impression we’re…friends.”
Quirky little brackets appeared at the side of his mouth. “Well, it’s hard not to like you, Catrina. And I have to say it was good to find out you’re not nervous of me personally.”
“Jamie told you about my accident,” she said a little fiercely.
“He did.” He opened the front gate for her, marking the beauty of her hair in the golden sunlight. “I wish he had told me before. We’ve become closer than the usual solicitor/client relationship, but he loves you so much he found your pain unbearable. I can understand that.”
“Can you?”
His smile twisted. “You don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone?”
She stared up at him, the brilliance of the sun flecking her eyes with gold sparks. “I’m sorry. What you must think of me! Of course you have. You do.”
“That’s better, Catrina,” he said crisply. “If I were a betting man as well as a horse breeder I wouldn’t put money on whether you and I will get on.”
“I share your alarm,” she said, too agitated to watch her tongue.
“Very wise of you,” he drawled, holding her gaze for a minute. “It seems to me, however, having heard your story, I can help you out of a very difficult situation. At least for a time. You on the other hand might well be able to help me with Regina.”
Carrie drew in a raw ragged breath. “You mean you’re hiring me?”
“What does that bloody woman say to you?” he asked, his scrutiny intense.
For a moment she felt drained of all strength. “I’m not her child, her daughter. I desperately need to get away.”
“So she won’t damage you further.”
“You can’t know,” she protested. “Glenda isn’t all that bad.”
“Isn’t she? James filled me in. Besides, I’ve had a pretty event-packed life. I know a lot more than you, Miss Twenty-Two.”
“A great deal more,” Carrie said. “I’m sorry I’m being rude. You must bring out that side of me.”
“I expect being mad at the world has helped a lot.” He studied her with a mixture of mockery and sympathy.
“It’s not easy to come to terms with the shattering of one’s dreams.”
“My feelings exactly,” he replied with quiet irony. “You can tell me all about it over dinner.” He bent suddenly and, while she felt a rush of pure panic, kissed her cheek.
“What did you do that for?” She tried but couldn’t find more than a shadow of her voice.
“What do you think, Catrina? For the benefit of step-mamma. She hasn’t moved away from the curtains.”
“She’ll tell Dad!”
“I don’t care who she tells. Do you? Besides a peck on the cheek doesn’t mean I’m about to steal Jeff Russell’s little girl.”
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