His Australian Heiress (23 page)

“Wonderful woman, Sarah!” Moorehouse's voice was tinged with sadness. Sarah Matthews had died of lung cancer a couple of years previously, though she had never smoked a cigarette in her life. “We will always have a job for you if you ever come back to us, Mallory. No one has taken Sarah's place with the same degree of success. There are always cases needing attention, even here in this paradise.”

She was aware of that. “Blaine tells me Uncle Robert has had a heart condition for some time. I didn't know that.”

“Robb wouldn't have wanted to worry you.” Moorehouse darted a glance at Blaine, then back to Mallory. “He has his medication. Robb is the most considerate man I know,” he said in his soothing manner.

Mallory wasn't sidetracked. “He
should
have told me. I needed to know.”

“Don't agitate yourself, Mallory. With care and keeping on his meds, Robb has some good years left to him.”

“Some?” She had to weigh that answer very carefully.

“All being well.” Ted Moorehouse spoke with a doctor's inbuilt caution. “You must be longing to see him. I'll take you to his room.”

“I'll stay here.” Blaine glanced at Mallory. “You'll want to see Robert on your own.”

“I appreciate that, Blaine,” she said gracefully. “Give us ten minutes and then come through.”

They found Robert James sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows. An ecstatic smile lit his still handsome face the moment Mallory walked in the door. As a consequence, Mallory's vision started to cloud. Outside his room she had steeled herself, concerned at how he might look after his heart attack. Now his appearance reassured her. She felt like a little girl again, a bereaved child. Uncle Robert was the one who had been there for her, taking her in. She couldn't bear the thought of his leaving her.

The ones you love best, die
.

She knew that better than anyone.

* * *

Robert James, gazing at the figure of his adored niece, felt wave after wave of joy bubbling up like a fountain inside his chest. She had come back to him. Claudia's daughter. His niece. His brother's child. His family. He was deeply conscious of how much he had missed Mallory these past years, although they kept in close touch. He had accepted her decision to flee the town where he had raised her. She had strong reasons, and he accepted them. Besides, clever young woman that she was, she had to find her place in the larger world. He was so proud of Mallory and her accomplishments. Proud he had been her mentor. His whole being, hitherto on a downward spiral, sparked up miraculously.

“Mallory, darling girl!” He held out his arms to gather her in. What he really felt like doing was getting out of bed and doing a little dance.

“Uncle Robert.” Mallory swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. She wasn't about to cry in front of him, though she felt alarm at the lack of colour in his aura. Love for him consumed her. He looked on the gaunt side, but resplendent in stylish silk pyjamas. Robert James was elegant wherever he was, in hospital, in private. Like her father, he was a bit of a dandy. There were violet shadows under his eyes, hollows beneath his high cheekbones and at the base of his throat. But there was colour in his cheeks, even if it was most probably from excitement. He had lost much-needed weight, along with strength and vitality; hence his diminished aura.

“It's so wonderful to see you, sweetheart, but you didn't have to come all this way. Ted says I'm fine.”

“You
are
fine, Robb,” Ted Moorehouse said quietly. He knew how much his friend loved his niece. Her presence would do him a power of good. “I'll leave you two together. You can take Robb home around this time tomorrow, Mallory.” He half turned at the door. “I expect you're staying for a day or two?”

Mallory tightened her hold on her uncle's thin hand, meeting his eyes. “Actually I've taken extended leave.”

“Why that's wonderful, Mallory.” Moorehouse beamed his approval. “Just what the doctor ordered.” He lifted a benedictory hand as he headed out the door.

“Extended leave! I feel on top of the world already.” Robert's fine dark eyes were brimming with an invalid's tears.

Mallory bowed her head humbly at her uncle's intense look of gratitude. It was
she
who had every reason to be grateful. She pulled up a chair and sat down at the bedside. Her touch featherlight, she smoothed his forehead with gentle fingertips, let them slide down over his thin cheek. “I'm so sorry if I've hurt you with my long absence, Uncle Robert. I know Blaine finds it so. He's outside, by the way.”

“He's always there when you need him.” Robert's voice was full of the usual pride and affection. “To be honest, I don't know what I would have done without him. He's been splendid, a real chip off the old block. Not that D'Arcy ever got to grow old.”

Mallory bowed her head. She wasn't the only one who had lost a beloved parent. Blaine too had suffered. D'Arcy Forrester had been killed leading a cleanup party after a severe cyclone. He had trodden on fallen power lines that had been camouflaged by a pile of palm fronds. His passing had been greatly mourned in the town. The reins had been passed into Blaine's capable hands.

Robert James's hollowed-out gaze rested on his niece. “Does Nigel know about me?”

Mallory's smile barely wavered. “I've left messages. I'm sure he'll respond.”

“I won't count on it.” Robert spoke wryly. “Stripped of the mask of learnedness, my brother is not a caring man. What heart he had went with your mother. I would have liked to see him, all the same. We
are
blood.”

Unease etched itself on Mallory's face. “Goodness, Uncle Robert, you're not dying.” She tightened her grip as if to hold him forever. “You've got plenty more good years left to you. I'm here now. Father will be in contact, I'm sure.” She was certain her father had received her messages. But her father hated confronting issues like illness and death.

Some minutes later, Blaine walked through the door, his eyes taking in the heartwarming sight of uncle and niece lovingly holding hands. “How goes it?”

“Wonderful, thank you, Blaine,” Robert responded, eyes bright. “Ted says I can come home tomorrow.”

“That's great news. I can pick you up in the Range Rover. To make it easy for Mallory, I can pick her up on the way.”

So it was arranged, and they left the room.

* * *

She didn't so much walk as glide on those long, elegant legs, Blaine thought. Mallory moved like a dancer; every twist and turn, every smooth pivot. It was high time he dropped the bombshell and then stood well back for the fallout. He knew Robb hadn't told her. Robb simply wasn't up to it. It was part of Robb's avoidance program.

“Something I should tell you, Mallory.” He hoped if she was going to shoot the messenger she aimed high.

“I
knew
there was something.” Mallory came to an abrupt halt.

“Your psychic powers?” he suggested, that irritating quirk to his handsome mouth.

“Why don't you double up with laughter? What powers I have—which you
don't believe
is true
—
do work. I've been picking up vibes that something wasn't right. I can see by your face you'd prefer not to be having the upcoming conversation.” Normally she spoke quietly. She was quiet with her movements as well. She never sought to draw attention to herself, but with Blaine her usually controlled manner became by comparison nearly theatrical.

“How right you are. I don't think you could guess, so I'll get right to it. Jason Cartwright has a job at Moonglade. On the farm.”

The shock was so great she felt like ducking for cover.

Blaine showed his concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

For a moment she was too dumbfounded to reply. “Okay? I'm the expert on okay. I'm actually delirious with joy. Jason at the farm! What luck!” Her blood pressure was definitely soaring well above her usual spot-on 119/76.

He didn't relish this job, but he had promised Robb he would bring Mallory up to date. Robb tended to pull in the favours. “I'm sorry to spring it on you. Robb has never told you for his own reasons, but it's something you obviously need to know now you're here.”

She felt more like shouting, only that would be so utterly, utterly unlike Dr. Mallory James. “I love Uncle Robert dearly, but we both know he evades difficult issues like the plague. I
knew
he was keeping something from me.”

“Your psychic powers didn't fill you in?”

“Oh, bugger off, Blaine.” Abruptly she stalked off to her car, unlocking the doors with a press on the remote. She felt like driving back the way she came.

Blaine caught up with her with ease. “We can handle this, Mallory.”

“
We?
” she huffed, rounding on him. “
We
will, will we? I love that. Your offer of support only grates.”

“It's well meant. I've another surprise for you.”

Her dark eyes flashed. “Don't hang about. Get it out. It's a bigger surprise than Jason working at the farm?”

For a woman who hated to lose her cool, Mallory's dark eyes gave Mallory, the enigma, away. They were
passionate
eyes. “He
runs
it,” Blaine bit off. “No point in stretching things out.”

She tried to find words. None came. “Well, he's had such a rotten time, he deserves a break,” she said finally.

“I share your dismay.”

“Then why didn't you stop it?” She was trying without success to dampen the burn inside her. “You can do
anything
when you want to. I've seen plenty of evidence of that over the years. You're the fixer. You run the town.”

“I've never said that.”

“You don't have to. Does the Queen tell everyone she's the Queen? She doesn't have to.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” He too was firing up. “Be fair. It was Robb's decision, Mallory. It was never going to be mine. I couldn't take matters out of his hands. Robb owns Moonglade and the business. I've never been a fan of Jason's, but he's not a criminal.”

“He
is
a criminal!” Mallory declared fiercely. “He betrayed me. He betrayed his family, Uncle Robert, even the town. That's criminal in my book. Honestly, Blaine, this is too much.”

He agreed, but he wasn't about to stoke the flames. “I can't expect you to be happy about it. He's good at the job. He works hard.”

Mallory shook her head. “The golden boy! That makes it okay for my married ex-fiancé to live and work on the doorstep? I suppose I can be grateful he wasn't invited to live in the house. Why couldn't Uncle Robert tell me himself? I don't give a damn how efficient Jason is. Uncle Robert—” She broke off in disgust. “It's the avoidance syndrome. It's rife among men.” She propped herself against her car, in case she slid ignominiously to the ground. “Why does chaos follow me?”

“You're doing okay,” he said briskly.

She waved off his comment. “What is
wrong
with Uncle Robb's thinking?”

“Obviously, it's different from yours.”

“Ss-o?” she almost stuttered.

“If someone's decisions are different from our own, then we tend to assume it doesn't make a lot of sense.”

“There's nothing wrong with my thinking, thank you.” She became aware she was beating an angry tattoo on the concrete with the toe of her shoe. This wasn't like her. Not like her at all. Blaine found the terrible weak spot in her defences. “You didn't understand Uncle Robert's decision, did you?”

“The milk of human kindness? Blessed are the merciful, and all that?”

“I love the way you guys stick together.”

“Oh, come off it, Mallory,” he said, exasperated.

“We never know people, do we? Even the people closest to us. We always miss something. Uncle Robert needed to tell me.
You
of all people should know that.”

“Damn it, Blaine, Jason's working at Moonglade is an outrage. It chills my heart. So don't stand there looking like business as usual.”

He rubbed the back of his tanned neck. “It won't help to see it like that, Mallory. It's a done deal. You'd moved on. You didn't come back. It was well over six years ago.”

“An astonishing amount of time. So you're saying
I'm
the one who is acting badly? Or am I an idiot for asking?”

“I don't think you're likely to hear the word ‘idiot' in connection with you in a lifetime. Robb has a notoriously kind heart. He gave your ex-fiancé a job after it became apparent Harry Cartwright had disowned his only son. Robb is a very compassionate man.”

“A sucker for a sob story, you mean. Okay, okay,
I
was a sob story. A seven-year-old kid who had lost her mother. A kid who was abandoned by her greatly admired, gutless father because I'm the spitting image of my mother. He couldn't look at me. I might have had two heads. I was his little daughter so much in need of a father's comfort, but my appearance totally alienated him. It was like I should have had plastic surgery, changed the colour of my hair, popped in baby-blue contact lenses. Ah, what the hell!” She broke off, ashamed of her rant.

“Mallory, I can't think of a single soul who didn't find your father's behaviour deplorable. You had a tough time, but you've come through with flying colours.”