Margaret Way was born and educated in the river city of Brisbane, Australia. Before her marriage she was a well-known pianist, teacher, vocal. Margaret Way was born in the City of Brisbane. A Conservatorium trained pianist, teacher, accompanist and vocal coach, her musical career came to an. byMargaret Way. Publication date Topics Australia -- Fiction. For print- disabled users. Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files.

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    King Country By Margaret Way - FictionDB. Cover art, synopsis, sequels, reviews, awards, publishing history, genres, and time period. Read "Her Outback Protector" by Margaret Way available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. At first sight, Alexandra Kingston . Download eBooks by author Margaret Way. Guaranteed best prices, direct download! Margaret Way (b. 7 August in Brisbane, Australia) is an.

    Would love rise from the ashes of tragedy? Julian Standford had everything: The perfect gentleman - if gentlemen were also heartless and ruthless! Unfortunately, Fleur's little stepbrother was a Standford, too, and the only way she could be with him was to live under the same roof as Julian. For the sake of her stepbrother, she'd try to forget how the Standfords had ruined her life. But Julian seemed determined to continue the destruction Instinctively she shut her eyes to right her rocking world and when she opened them again, he had her firmly by the arm, supporting her. She could have wept for the outrage and indeed tears sprang to her heavily fringed eyes. She couldn't, wouldn't answer him though she remembered his voice as clearly as though he had spoken to her yesterday instead of a lifetime ago.

    She still plays the piano seriously, but her "top Cs" have gone. She is still addicted to collecting antiques and paintings and browsing through galleries. She now lives within sight and sound of beautiful Moreton Bay and its islands, inspiration for some of her books. Her house is full of books, spectacular plants, Chinese screens and pots. She is devoted to her garden and spends much time "directing the design and digging and providing cold drinks and chocolates.

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    Last edited by CGN. August 15, History. Margaret Way Close. People Brooke. Time , Contemporary , Queensland. Now her scrutiny seemed to be as intense as his own. He looked what he was, a man of position and power. There was strength behind his extraordinary good looksruthlessness, she preferred to call itthat gave vigour to the chiselled features. His eyes contrasted starkly with black hair. He was still the handsomest man she had ever seen. As a child she had been intensely attracted to his radiance, now she saw it for what it was; a dazzling sexuality that repelled her.

    Men like that could only wound a woman. I've done all my crying about Matthew. Perhaps I'll cry to my dying day, but you won't know about it.

    Our Mission, Vision and Values

    He's a Standford, he'll survive. I could never hurt him like that. He was too little to really remember me anyway. The hurt can't go on I've had too much of it. It was so disloyal to the strange, unhappy woman who had been her mother.

    The master manipulator! Five feet two of nothing with green eyes like glass? Once I trusted you. I never want to make that mistake again. It's Matthew who needs you. There was always a deep bond between you and Matt.

    Though you were only six years older, you mothered him. He always ran to you for love and comfort, not his mother. A very few women have no maternal feeling, and Helena was one of them. We had no difficulty getting custody of Matthew. My mother had nothing, you had millions. There was no money to send me on to university. She didn't want to hear his lying revelations. I didn't say we had to pay for it.

    That's if Helena did, in fact, leave it to you. Maybe you haven't noticed people don't live in houses as nice as yours? It was all for Matthew, the son you deprived her of. I want no part of you! Matthew has never ceased to miss you. He's a solitary child, a lot like my brother. My poor little Matt, he's flawed, is he?

    The only reason your brother married my mother was because she was beautiful. He didn't want her when he found out she had poor health. The city was crowded and people were turning to stare at the chauffeur-driven Rolls.

    Margaret Way

    She was even bitterly amused that the driver hadn't heard one word, safely. It would be necessary, she thought, otherwise employees might start selling secrets.

    It doesn't suit me to drive around in the car for ever. She hadn't the slightest intention of going anywhere further with him. She had to be by herself to think. Her darling little Matt, an asthmatic? Why, in six years she doubted if he had ever even had a cold. All kinds of jumbled plans were running through her head.

    If Matt really wanted her, why couldn't they live together? She would have no hesitation using Stand- ford money on the rightful heir. It took her a moment to see the bitter irony in the fact that she had accepted what he had told her and she shook her head hopelessly.

    What a day to think her mother too had lied! The Rolls was gliding into the loading zone outside the city's leading hotel and she saw the smartly uniformed doorman make his way briskly towards them. Now was her chance. Julian Stand- ford had his head turned away from her, and in a flash she opened up the offside door and sprang out. To the startled onlookers it seemed like a good way to get killed, but for the agitated Fleur it was salvation.

    With the heavy traffic slowed by pedestrians moving out into the crossing, she made her frantic, illegal dash. She must have looked a sight with her white face and her black dress, dashing madly away from the parked Rolls. On today of all days she had worn no lipstick on her tenderly moulded mouth and the only colour about her was the titian of her hair and her leafgreen eyes.

    Like a miracle no policeman came forward to take her to task and she hurried into a department store, knowing there was a taxi rank at the other side. He wouldn't make any attempt to follow her. It would only add to the intrigue. His name, even his face was well known to the general public.

    It was always the way when one was heir to a mining empire. Her heart was beating very fast, but she never once looked back. One day she had always told herself she would see Matt again. She had kept his six-year-old image burning brightly in her mind. Her most deeply treasured private possession. Her mother had called him a Standford and dismissed him from her mind, but Fleur had known that was only because of the terrible pain.

    To separate a child from his motherwhat suffering! Faces seemed to be alert on her, a white-skinned redhead in the sort of black dress that said funeral. A big coloured man with a beard knocked into her and apologised, then resumed his way through the crowd. At least he distracted some attention from her because he was very flamboyantly dressed.

    She was breathless by the time she reached the street and within sight of the taxi rank. Thank God there was a line-up! She almost flung herself at the first car and just as she put her hand out to open the back door, a man's hand came down forcefully on the slender bones of her shoulder.

    Now, looking back at him, she saw she had better obey. He immediately transferred his attention to out of the window. Heated discussions in a taxi weren't his style. In complete silence they made the twenty- minute drive to the garden suburb while the taxi driver kept casting surreptitious little glances into his rear vision mirror. There was a lot of drama in driving a taxi and he suspected the minute they got out there would be a terrible fight.

    Both of his passengers looked tense and strained, locked together in a silent passion. The man's face teased his memory, but it wasn't until they got out he remembered who the man wasthe mining guy, the millionaire.

    Now they were in the house, the shadow of Helena came relentlessly between them. There was a portrait of her over the fireplace in the living room and Julian Standford went to stand before it. He was very tall and she felt small and beaten. Her mother had had the darkest, deepest eyes she had ever seen. Now they looked down on. She was wearing a red chiffon evening dress and her beauty was breathtaking.

    He didn't even seem to be aware of her staring up at the masterly executed painting. Superb as it was, Fleur had never liked it. It pointed up the strangeness in Helena, the kind of secret gloating. The smile on the lovely mouth was slow and vaguely scornful and in the depths of those fathomless eyes was a wicked triumph.

    It had been painted in the early months of her second marriage, and even then she had been very young. Julian drew a long breath and released it wearily. My brother, irreparably. There was only menace in the ruthless charm. You're so young. I'm asking you, begging you to come back to him as his sister. You won't come. You were photographed in your mad dash across the street. Most of the time we're pretty pally, but I have a feeling we're not going to be able to cover up your little folly.

    To anyone looking it certainly looked like there was a story. You've found it too easy to believe every accusation. It's a good deal more difficult discovering the truth, and sometimes it's better not to reveal it at all.

    I'm appealing to you as the compassionate little creature I remember. Come back to Waverley. Matthew, laughing, running after her in the dancing sunlight. Even as a baby he had been physically all Stand- ford. That meant he would be handsome and at fourteen probably a lot taller than she was. All the Standford men were tall and superbly athletic,.

    It upset her when she knew how alarming that condition could be. One of the girls in her senior year at school had been a chronic asthmatic. It had been sobering watching her struggle for her very breath and she had been terrified of misplacing her atomiser, dependent on it really, as though to be without it provoked an attack. She remembered, too, one of the teachers had been very short with the girl as though if she only tried, she could cure herself.

    Emotional, Louise, the teacher used to cry. Not an allergy. Focus all your attention on getting better. In spite of the fierce tension between them, Julian was still holding her by the arms. The torture of just trying to breathe. The things we take for granted.

    He's waited, for eight years. I've got to think! She remembered it from so long ago. All of us are. I must never forget that. No one, even your mother, meant things to happen, they just did. I knew from the beginning what she would do to my brother. All your damnable accusations! Now suddenly she sensed some devastating truths her mother had. Stepping back in time was too painful a process and though she had retained a clear picture of Julian, her memory of her stepfather, Julian's elder brother, was surprisingly hazy.

    She could remember he was like Julian but without the dangerous attraction, the high-mettled determined look that was so like the tyrannical old man who had made the family fortune. Her mother had made her swear she would never go near the Standfords. They were a brood of vipers who ruined everything they touched. What should she do? How should she choose; for her mother or Matthew?

    There had been enough tragedies at Waverley. She didn't think she could bear to find out the hidden ones. The last thing he ever wanted was to lose you. My mother found anger and enmity at Waverley mightn't I find the same? Surely the good times sometimes come back to haunt you? There's nothing in this house but pain. She couldn't deny it, face to face with the facts. Still she flushed and refused to bend to his strong will.

    Not yet. When you come back to Waverley, you come back as family. You could be lying to me now! We've got to salvage something from this mess. Never mind, I'll stay the monster, but we're both trying to work out something for Matthew.

    Whatever life is, it isn't easy. You can hate and resent me if you have to, but I'm taking you home to your brother. She had always believed she and Matthew would be together again; she had counted on it. She nodded her head and in the end went back with him to Waverley. It was what she had always wanted, but for a long time the wish remained buried with her mother. From somewhere close by, a flashlight went off, then another. She winced and went to turn, but he kept on moving her briskly forward.

    He's always there when he scents a story. There had been a very illuminating photograph of her on the front page of the Sydney Morning Herald. Attention fixed itself on the very rich and everyone who surrounded them.

    A porter followed them up, wheeling their luggage. She had somehow expected another Rolls, and there it was, with the uniformed driver standing outside waiting alertly for their appearance. He was accustomed to being picked up at airports by Rolls-Royces, but Fleur found it almost staggering. Everyone jumped, and he didn't seem to care. This time the Rolls was a different colour and there was no glass partition inside.

    When they were all in the car, Julian introduced the driver to her and he gave her a straightforward, guileless smile. That was at ten o'clock. I know he wasn't expecting you home this afternoon.

    Her excitement was overlaid by a physical and mental exhaustion. The six weeks preceding her mother's death had almost extinguished her strengththe terrible consultations, the tests, the brain scan that had shown up the tumour.

    She couldn't cry in the daytime now, but at night she knew her pillow would be wet. Julian must have taken note of her expression, for his lean, longfingered hand covered her own. The drive was a long one, but at last they turned into the long, curved driveway which she now remembered as clearly as though she had turned into it yesterday.

    It was the early days of December and the four acres that surrounded the house were ablaze with colour. An avenue of jacarandas led up to the mansion and the flowering miracles of the tropics, the poincianas, were given all the space that they needed.

    They filled the park-like grounds with their sumptuous colour and their beautiful lacy branches threw shadows on the ground. Up ahead stood the house; no different from what it had been all those years ago. Ivy sheened the rosy brickwork with green and birds winged in to the high Tudor gables.

    I'm doing the best I can. They were approaching the front of the house, and she felt her eyes widen in a stare. A boy had run down the stone steps and emotion hit her in such a rush she gave an incoherent little cry. The chauffeur swung the big car effortlessly off the gravel and the instant he had stopped Fleur threw open the door and started running.

    She didn't need to wonder if this was really Matthew, her every intuition told her so. The intensity of her feelings, like spring after winter, were shared by the boy. His eyes glazed with wonder and though his heart was hammering and his breath came almost painfully he too was impelled into flight. He looked beautiful to her, but so pitifully frail that the crushing guilt she had felt on her mother's account fell away from her.

    Grandad told me you'd gone to find Fleur and now that you've found her, she's never going away again. With their arms twisted around each other, they walked up to the house. There was a storm of emotion inside both of them, a sadness in the fact that their mother was dead, and a blissful happiness at finding each other again. In the cool formality of the entrance hall a woman greeted them, her narrowed, measuring glance on both of their faces.

    Charlotte didn't smile or make any attempt to, but as Fleur drew close, she dropped a conventional kiss on the girl's cheek. You must be nineteen now. And their charm. You know it's bad for you.

    She's been travelling since early morning. I had to make a stop-over in Sydney. We've given you your old room. There wasn't time to redecorate it, but you may do so if you wish. I love houses, don't you? Charlotte shook her head. All the Stand- ford men are engineers. It's necessary for the business. There seemed to be some pressure or tension on her, and Fleur pressed Matthew's hand and together they continued on their way.

    When you're important and you've got such a lot of money people don't seem to do anything but agree with you. He could come face to face with the devil and make him back off. Like his grandfather, Julian Standford was made in the same infinitely arrogant mould. People like that might found empires, but they weren't men to mate with or call family.

    She had learned that the hard way, and the bitterness would always linger. Would you like something to eat? Is that terrible of me? Really it doesn't. If she really wanted me, she could have put up a fight. Mother loved you. She just couldn't have you, that's all. You're here now. There was a flush on his skin and his gentle, rather hesitant voice had firmed into a boyish authority.

    The walls would be super covered with a very soft, metallic papersilver-grey like a pearl. You have a wonderful view across the garden, so I'd pull all those curtains down and have shutters that fold back. There's too much clutter in here too. You know Grandfather sees the bill for everything.

    Who had mentioned making changes in the first place anyway? Hang the expense! That's what Uncle Julian always says. Sheena calls him the old tyrant. I don't like her much. I can't do it very well, neither can Lottie. He might be an old man, but he's still pretty fierce. Fleur, would you like something to eat? We don't have dinner until eight o'clock.

    I'll put them away. We pay them well and they won't mind. Just like that! He's suffered dreadfully for years nowwe all have. Even Grandfather cares deeply, but no one can do anything about it. He was wheezing badly when I arrived, now he hasn't had time to think about it. He never had Julian's wonderful health and vigour.

    I suppose it started there. Swimming,' Fleur suggested. I never cease to pray about it. I guess you can't know everything we've tried. Still as they went down the hallway, she heard him say to his aunt: For the rest of the afternoon brother and sister didn't waste a moment. Hand in hand they walked all over the house and the garden, with so much to say to one another it was like a wonderful trip of discovery.

    The colour hadn't faded from Matthew's cheeks and his breathing was still normal. How could I ever tell him? Honestly, he's brilliant! He's got so many qualifications.

    I'm just glad he's around to be Grandfather's heir. I dread the thought of big businessyou have to be a special kind of person. Apart from anything else, it's so strenuous. I could never copeanyway, not with asthma. She needs a bit of peace.

    She's really been terribly good to me, you know, running me all over the place to doctors and sitting up nights. I've missed quite a lot of school, so it's a good thing I'm pretty smart.

    We might have to cope with a few infections, though I don't see why if the pool is salt I didn't want to miss out. Matthew, she decided, desperately needed her. He hadn't been lying about that. I'm going to make it my business. It's the one thing he's got no control over. He's so perfect, isn't he? They still rave on about him at school. The great Julian Standford's nephew, that's all I am. As well as being a brain he must have been something of a sporting phenomenon. Needless to say I'm a writeoff in that department.

    You're very clever at school, which is a great blessing, and even if you don't turn into Uncle Julian by the time we're finished, you'll be able to relax and enjoy any sport that pleases you. Except maybe rob a bank,' Fleur added consideringly. All the way back to the house they made a joke of it, so that nobody looking at them would ever know their lives had been deeply touched by tragedy.

    Fleur heard her brother's breathing, light and even, and the first peace she had known in a long time touched her heart. What was life after all but service to the people one loved? The thought made her humble and started the thaw in her own heart. Both of them had lived through years of emotional insecurity, but time was merciful.

    They would heal. It was approaching eight, and Fleur stood before the long mirror in her bedroom staring abstractedly at her own reflection. She was. It was an amber slip of a dress, far from expensive, but her slight girl's body lent it surprising style. Not that she really cared about her dress with the emotions of the day churning around inside her. Now Sir Charles was back to welcome her into his home. She was very conscious of his motive, but what did it matter?

    Matthew was special to all of them. He had put his head around the door more than an hour ago to tell her his grandfathergreat-grandfather, though everyone dropped the great had arrived home. Not that Fleur had needed telling. From the balcony of her room, afloat over the beautiful garden, she had seen the dark blue Rolls sweep up the drive. A few minutes later she had caught Sir Charles' tone, then Julian's, both of them damnably attractive and so terribly self-assured.

    There was no doubt about it, both of them possessed shattering poise and charisma. The thought almost amused her, except that she had been reared to regard them both as enemies. No matter how Matthew longed to be like Uncle Julian, she was glad he favoured his gentler, more sensitive, far less ambitious father; David, who had died so violently, so unexpectedly in a car smash.

    Such deaths seemed the hardest to bear. Yet had her mother mourned him? Fleur turned away and walked to the French doors that led out on to the balcony. It was a heavenly night, the sky alive with stars. She traced the downward path through Orion, the mighty hunter's belt, to Sirius, the brightest star in the heavens.

    The Southern Cross was particularly bright tonight, its lowest star pointing to the Pole, a star of the first magnitude. Such majesty! She drew a deep breath that came out as an emotional sigh. Almost at the same moment, she realised someone was looking up at her. Light was spilling out from the ground floor and as she leaned over the balcony, Julian stepped into a brilliant triangle. What did they tell you? She didn't hurry, but moved as gently as the breeze off the balcony.

    Sir Charles Standford might be an extremely important man, but she had never cared and she didn't care now. They were waiting for her in the handsome drawing room and she was vaguely aware there were strangers present. How very kind of you to ask me back. Please accept my sympathy in your loss. Julian stepped smoothly into the breach. His clasp was warm and dry, light but very strong. Probably he still had the uncanny knack of reading her mind. Two men were moving towards her, smiling, and seated on the sofa with Charlotte was an exquisitely groomed young woman in her mid- twenties, her lustrous dark hair curving around a goldenskinned, full-lipped face.

    Her eyes were light brown and though the red mouth was parted in a smile the expression in the eyes was vaguely off-putting. Her name was Sheena Lloyd. One of the men, a very pleasant and prosperous-looking business man, was her father and the other was Sir Charles' lifelong friend and personal physician Hugh Alistair. Though Sir Charles remained as indestructible as ever, the doctor had altered a good deal. Stones had fallen off his once rugged frame and Fleur learned from Julian later that he had an inoperable cancer.

    Still his kind, wise eyes lit up with pleasurethe. It was Julian who answered and Owen Lloyd who backed him up. Her own skin gleamed with a year-round deep golden tan. They were seated at the table and the meal began. Fleur had expected Matthew to join them as a matter of course, but it had been Matthew himself who had told her Sir Charles didn't care for children at the dinner table.

    Of course he wouldn't! Fleur had thought, but Matthew was quite happy with the arrangement. It was much too late to wait for dinner in any case, and he dreaded being addressed by visitors in case his grandfather snorted at his immature replies.

    The wine. I don't remember seeing the wine. The light from the massive chandelier overhead played up his extravagant good looks. His hair was jet black, his skin polished bronze, and the eyes he turned towards his grandfather a startling sapphire. Though he always sounded smooth and respectful, it was apparent to everyone that he wasn't in the least intimidated by the imperious and shorttempered old man.

    Old as he was, he had even a more physically commanding presence than he had in his prime, and Fleur guessed Julian would be the same. Dinner progressed, so superbly presented and so mouthwatering, Fleur's appetite picked up.

    Why, she's going to stay home, of course,' Sir Charles barked. She wasn't used to sincere compliments from her own sex and never paid them. Particularly depressing. Fleur took a deep breath, intervening. I have a couple of calls I must take tonight. There were many more of them until the men went off and the three women were left talking together. Short of kidnapping her, there was no way we could prevent it. My grandmother was frightfully upset by it all.

    Sheena shrugged gracefully. Her dark eyes appraised Fleur's vivid colouring. Dark hair, dark eyes,' Fleur explained. I don't resemble her in the least. Matthew has nothing of his mother in him either. It's been rather an exhausting day.

    Would it never cease? The night seemed the best place, the perfumed quiet of the garden. Without her inhibiting presence Charlotte would feel free to tell Sheena everything she wanted to know. As far as that went, Sheena probably knew more about the old tragedies than Fleur herself.

    She slipped swiftly past the bronze statues in the hallway and out into the glorious tropical night. There were gardenias flowering somewhere and their perfume dominated a heady mixture of scents. So many people who seemed to have hated-her mother.

    What had she done? The old stories recreated themselves in Fleur's mind. As a young widow with a four-year-old daughter, her mother had met David Standford quite by accident. Ordinarily their lives would have never crossed but for a sudden rainstorm. They had been standing, unprotected, at a bus stop and David Standford had been moved to stop.

    Who wouldn't, for an adorable four-year-old, he had often joked, but it was her mother's dangerous beauty that had captured him instantly and drove him to marry her despite a wealth of opposition.

    The Standfords had disliked Helena from the start, even Grandma Standford who had been so kind. For the one and only time in his life, David Standford disobeyed his grandfather, married his Helena and set in motion a series of conflicts that ended, inevitably, in tragedy.

    Helena too had made a grave error in judgment. The Standford family, despite their great private fortune, had been visited often by tragedy. Charlotte, the eldest, David and Julian had lost their parents before Charlotte was in her teens. Their father, Richard, was killed in a mine disaster, having led men to safety in an extreme situation.

    Their mother, well advanced in her fourth pregnancy, had been so profoundly shocked she miscarried her child and died right under her doctor's stricken eyes.

    The baby lived on for two weeks-; before it too abandoned the fight for life. After that, the children went to live with their grandparents, but only Julian thrived.

    Julian, the youngest, a man in his grandfather's mould, if you want. Fleur muffled the words in her throat.

    Her mother had been seduced by wealth and a high social position, and how dearly she paid for it. There were tears on her cheeks, but she didn't even know they were there. Through the intensity of her thoughts she heard Julian's voice. Instinct told her to run, to hide. The sky was encrusted with stars, but there was no moon tonight. Probably he had come to tell her she couldn't continue to act like an hysterical child.

    She ran lightly, like all creatures built for speed, but under the enveloping shadows of the trees a man's arm reached out and snaked around her waist.

    What's happened? It's not in you to hate. She loves Matthew, I can see that. David was her favourite brother. Why were you so cruel, Julian, tell me? Helena was bent on self-destruction. She courted excitement and danger.

    I've got to know the truth! She never spoke about her childhood, but it couldn't have been happy. Perhaps it even flawed her for life. She was always reaching for what she couldn't have. You were only a child. I suppose you, don't remember my grandmother used to get some of her best laughs watching you standing up to her husband. Ginger spunk, she used to call it, though you've always had hair like a flame.

    Perhaps it was the wine. I never could understand how she came to marry Sir Charles. Sheena had moved like a homing bird to Julian's side, her bare golden arm twined possessively around his own. Sheena seemed like an extremely determined person and a quick lunch might save a lot of trouble.

    She moved up the steps and into the entrance hall while Sheena's deliberately cultivated husky tones drifted clearly on the night air: A breathy laugh, full of excitement.

    I'm used to the sounds of traffic. You can do anything you like,' Matthew promised expansively. I don't understand what's so great about cereal! It's going on all the time. The demands are colossal. Even when he's sleeping, I'm sure his brain is ticking over. Her own feelings about Julian were so complicated it was in her best interests to continue to regard him as her enemy.

    The door to the study was open, and as they hesitated outside, looking in, Julian put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and called to her: I won't be a moment. I'll join you,' said Matthew with satisfaction, and turned away. It had a remarkably satisfying look about it; three walls lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a magnificent Persian rug over.

    Blue lotus lilies thrust their gorgeous heads above the still, emerald surface and an enormous jacaranda trailed its lavender branches almost to the water. It was quite a sight to greet anyone's eyes, but Julian had his back to it, still talking on the phone. Fleur glanced at his downbent black head and her heart thudded unpleasantly, a warning system to remind her that though he delighted her eye and beguiled her ear she knew his true character.

    You arrogant devil! He exuded power, even sitting down with his face half in shadow. Unexpectedly he looked up, reading her transparent face, the green eyes brilliant and accusing.

    He was doing it deliberately, she knew that, but she could no more look away from him than a doe from a tiger. The very thought made her shiver and at that moment his eyes released her. He reeled off a few more incisive instructions to a key employee, then hung up.

    She glanced at her watch as though she could scarcely spare the time, but her knees were shaking so much she was secretly grateful for the support of an armchair. Which means you'll have to take a trip into town. I can arrange most things, but the bank will be needing your signature. I have the authority to release a considerable amount now. She left you what she could as a form of security.

    Matthew is well provided for; you weren't. I don't want to leave Matthew. You drive, of course? You could even try the pool,' he added. I'd like to be able to spend more time with Matt, only I assure you I've very little freedom at all. Tm sure you don't have to. You aren't. Plan on a full day. You'll be needing lots of thingsplenty of clothes.

    Sheena might be able to help you there. Not just yet. If you're especially good, I'll take you both over to Japan when I go. Probably the end of March. Once you get going I'm sure you have a fascinating tongue.

    Margaret Way Un Parfum Atat de Dulce - Free Download PDF

    So great was his destructive fascination she literally leapt away from him. I have a lot of work to do.

    See you tonight. It wasn't reassuring to know that though her mind was free from his domination, her flesh was weak. Starved of deep and demonstrative affection as she had been, it was too easy for him to deal with her. She could still feel his touch in her hair. Sit around and talk, go into town, go for a drive. Can you drive? The last thing she wanted to do was antagonise Charlotte even when she could see the older woman's attitude towards Matthew was very.

    I'm used to heavy traffic. Matthew looked appalled; 'Gosh, Lottie, who wants to travel around in a Rolls? It's all right for Granddad, but he's an old man. He's not going to bring home the usual little runabout. He's had ear infections, eye infections and infections on the chest. I'm tired of all the worry. I'm a good swimmer, but we could get a coach if you liked.

    It would be better to risk an infection and build up his chest. I'm sure it's only because of the Standford frame that he's not in a far worse condition. With all due respect, and I know how deeply you care for him, I have a responsibility too. It's a well proven fact that swimming is wonderful therapy for anyone with Matthew's condition. Right from a child. Always David.

    It was very obvious David had been Charlotte's favourite, but it was Matthew they were talking about now. I really do know what's best for Matthew and I fear all we can do is wait for him to grow out of it. Short of launching into a full scale argument, there was little else Fleur could say. Crushing down her natural thoughts of rebellion, she began to speak about the beauty of the grounds. Charlotte, a keen gardener, nodded agreeably.

    It's a place of enchantment then. She had been twelve years old when she left. Uncle Julian thinks he's brilliant. He put. What's his name? He and Lottie have long, earnest conversations about soils and chemicals and wonderful things like that. I used to think Uncle Julian was encouraging them because then he got pergolas done and the terraced gardens and, of course, the grounds need looking after they're so big. Kurt's men attend to that and we usually see him once or twice a week.

    Grandfather doesn't like him at all. He calls him Attila and poor old Lottie hates it. I think that's why Grandfather keeps it up. He can be quite cruel sometimes. I know, because I overhead Uncle Julian telling him. I'm looking forward to meeting Kurt. Lunch passed uneventfully and afterwards brother and sister went for a long stroll around the neighbourhood admiring all the architect-designed homes and the well kept gardens ablaze with colour.

    Matthew was in his element pointing out different designs. How about trying? As well we're going to add practical help to the psychology. Uncle Julian has already bought me dumbbells and things. Wouldn't you like to get better? Charlotte, with a curious flush in her cheeks, made the introductions and Fleur found her hand taken and enveloped by what she could only think of as a gentle paw. You'll join us, won't you, Kurt?

    I'm not used to being waited on. To Fleur's astonishment Maria broke into Italian. You know where the cups and saucers are. They spoke exclusively about plants and gardens and when Kurt went off, Charlotte accompanied him ostensibly to confirm an order for hundreds of new seedlings.

    He probably thinks Kurt is after Lottie's money. He was definitely after her money. Uncle Julian found out and told her so. You can bet your life he's had Kurt checked out as well, so I really think Kurt must like Lottie for herself. It was the day of her shopping trip and Sheena had accompanied her. And what a treasure she was! She knew everyone who was anyone in the fashion world and her taste was superb.

    Besides, the girl could carry any dress she had, she was so slight and pretty and chic, and Sheena Lloyd was one of her best customers. To Fleur's surprise, Sheena was looking genuinely pleased and excited, Sheena loved clothes as a couturier loves them and it gave her intense satisfaction to be able to assist Julian's young' relative in her choice of a complete wardrobe.

    The Zandra Rhodes looked brilliant, the quilted gold satin bandeau fitting snugly over Fleur's small, high bosom. Well, we might as well take a break and have lunch.

    Afterwards we'll get your hair shaped. It's very pretty, but I know just the man who can cut into the curl. All of it. I do so want to understand. Fleur thought, but offered crumbs of information.

    Sheena gobbled it up very greedily, but only toyed with her food. Slim as she was, she had a weight problem and though she dined out very frequently she seldom swallowed more than a couple of mouthfuls of, most often, grilled fish. No life of her own.

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