Accidental Nanny

CHAPTER TWO

TEN days later Sarah Ellery, Raefe’s sister, who was in her late thirties, said, ‘Fran, I don’t know how on earth I coped without you! This wretched wrist.’ She waved the offending arm with its plaster. ‘You just don’t realise how difficult it is to manage one-handed. I can’t believe the good luck that brought you our way. Raefe will be so delighted when he gets home—which should be any day now.’

Francesca hid a grimace. The floods had subsided, and although Bramble had been cut off for several days they hadn’t received nearly the inundation that had affected areas further north. The same inundation that had kept Raefe Stevensen from home as Banyo Air was heavily involved not only in moving people about to escape the waters but also in mustering halfdrowned stock. All of which couldn’t have suited her plans better.

But Judgement Day had to come, and, while her resolve stood firm concerning the man, his family was becoming another matter.

She glanced across to where young Jess Stevensen was doing a jigsaw puzzle, with the tip of her little pink tongue sticking out as she concentrated fiercely. She was a fair, serious child, and at first she’d shown an almost adult reserve that had puzzled Francesca slightly. But the reserve was lessening day by day— in fact she was beginning to show flashes of sweetness and affection that were quite beguiling.

Then there was Sarah, thin and elegant, with her brother’s eyes, although darker hair, and a gold wedding ring on her finger but no sign or mention of a husband. Sarah, who’d also been reserved at the start, and had a hint of unexplained sadness about her—although she too had dropped her guard after a couple of days and shown that she possessed a delightful sense of humour as well as being cultured and artistic. She read avidly, painted lovely miniatures and played the grand piano beautifully. Even one-handed.

Indeed, the whole of the Bramble Downs homestead had come as something of a surprise to Francesca. Its facilities alone were impressive, considering how far away from anywhere they were, and represented the considerable amount of money that must have been spent to achieve the degree of comfort there was on a property that had no town water or electricity.

Then there was the house itself. Solid and comfortable, it was in a magical position overlooking a white beach, an island and reef-studded waters that changed colour from aquamarine to dark blue depending on the time of day and tide.

It was surrounded by lawn and smothered in bougainvillea, and its thick white walls, cool tiled floors, wide verandas and Spanish-flavoured interior suited the tropical climate perfectly—it could not have been more different from the virtually tin-shed accommodation on Wirra, and it was obvious the Stevensen family was not short of cash.

Some demon of curiosity had prompted Francesca to ask Sarah one day whether Jess’s mother had been responsible for the uncluttered interior, the lovely pieces of heavy wooden furniture and the occasional splash of colour in a rug or a painting or a giant pottery urn filled with dried flowers.

This had provoked a brief, sad look from Sarah, although no explanation of what had actually happened to Jess’s mother, before she’d composed herself and replied that no, not really, it had mostly been her and Raefe’s mother’s doing. Then she’d gone on rather deliberately to chat about the family history, and Francesca had got the distinct impression that the subject of Jess’s mother was taboo.

But she had discovered that Bramble Downs had been in the Stevensen family for eighty years. It had been taken up by Sarah’s grandfather, and the original residence had been nothing but a tin shed. Now, whilst cattle had always been and still was the largest part of their business, Banyo Air, started by Raefe, was growing most satisfactorily. It was obvious to Francesca that Sarah Ellery was very fond of her brother.

‘He was always fascinated by flying, although he’s a cattleman through and through,’ Sarah added dreamily, then grinned wryly. ‘He even used to try to construct wings. I remember the day he jumped off the water tank and broke his leg. And he couldn’t wait to get into the Air Force. He was one of their top guns,’ she said proudly.

‘Is that all he did?’ Francesca heard herself ask, and hoped the slightly cynical note she heard wasn’t obvious to Sarah.

Sarah blinked and said, ‘Well, he did some sort of aeronautical engineering degree at the same time as he trained to be a pilot. Then he left the Air Force and did a stint for a year as a private pilot for some sheikh. Now that was quite an experience. The man had four wives and fourteen concubines, would you believe, and he used to jet around the world as we might drive into town.’

‘It must be quite a change—I mean from that to running Banyo Air,’ Francesca said casually, and at the same time she thought, so that accounts for the savoir-faire.

‘But, you see, he’s his own boss now and Banyo Air is acquiring quite a reputation—it’s actually the perfect combination for a cattleman, especially now that so much mustering is done by helicopter. He has the experience of cattle—he was inducted into that almost before he could walk—he knows the peninsula and the gulf really well, and he’s a first-class flier. So contract mustering is the mainstay of Banyo Air, but he also runs scenic charter flights and so on.’

Francesca thought of the trim craft she’d flown in to Cairns, and indeed of the disparity between all the polished craft that had stood upon the apron that fateful day and the unprepossessing offices of Banyo Air. Her thoughts were tinged with bitterness—if the offices had been as trim and polished as the aircraft Raefe Stevensen flew, might she have been more restrained herself? So why did he operate out of a tinpot sort of office if Banyo Air was so highly regarded?

Sarah answered that right on cue. ‘His next project is upgrading the facilities at the airport he operates out of. It’s badly needed, believe me. But these things take time and money. And planning permission,’ she added with a grimace.

Francesca pondered all this anew as she was getting ready for bed that night. Her bedroom with its en suite bathroom was comfortable and pretty, with a double bed, a cool tiled floor and yellow sherbet coloured curtains and bedspread. She had a dressing table and a writing table, both made from silky oak, and one comfortable armchair, and it was into this she sank to examine, with a rather strange feeling, how well she’d slipped into the lifestyle of Bramble Downs.

Not only had she taken Jess over from the bead stockman’s wife, who had been helping Sarah out since she’d broken her wrist, but the cook’s disappearance had given her the opportunity to exercise her culinary skills. All of which had meant she’d had hardly a minute to herself, yet she felt curiously fulfilled and satisfied.

And, more than that, it was as if she was saying to Raefe Stevensen, yes, I can see that the way the Valentine millions are flaunted and the way I acted that day would be an affront to someone who comes from this quiet but solid, achieving and cultured background of yours—but you still misread me!

The one thing she couldn’t do was visualise his reaction to her presence at Bramble, although she told herself that he surely wouldn’t react too excessively in front of his sister and child. What she didn’t count on was that their first meeting would take place without anyone to witness it...

She woke just before dawn the next morning and listened to the birds saluting the new day for a few minutes—birds you didn’t hear down south, and ones that would always be inextricably linked in her mind with Far North Queensland, with its heat, its isolation, the thick mat of turf beneath your feet as you stepped off the veranda at Bramble, with the casuarinas and pandanus palms that rimmed the beach and the lovely waters of the Great Barrier Reef...

Just thinking of it prompted her to take the opportunity, while Jess still slept, to go for a dawn swim. She pulled on a violet bikini, brushed her hair, reached for a towel and slipped out of the house noiselessly as the first rays of light touched the sky.

Because of the proliferation of crocodiles in this part of the world since they’d become a protected species, as well as the prevalence of the deadly box jellyfish in summer, a wire-mesh and pole swimming enclosure had been built which extended into the water and up the beach. Francesca clicked open the gate, saw that the tide was high, which meant plenty of water to swim in, and ran down the beach to dive in.

It was heavenly—still cool enough to be refreshing, salty and with a gentle swell that lifted her rhythmically off her feet. After she’d swum up and down energetically for about ten minutes, she lay in the shallows and watched the sun rise in a symphony of apricot and lemon as the birds sang on. Then she heard the enclosure gate click open and, thinking it might be Jess, sighed lightly and stood up to start her daily duties.

But it wasn’t Jess, it was the girl’s father, with his shirt and shoes already off and his hands frozen on the waistband of his khaki trousers.

Francesca froze too, and they stared at each other over about six feet of sand, close enough for her to see the disbelief and then the sheer, deadly anger that came to his grey eyes, the way all the muscles of his strong, streamlined torso and arms bunched and the knuckles of his hands went white.

It crossed her mind with a genuine tremor of fear that she might be about to come to an early demise on this beautiful beach so far away from anywhere, but then his eyes changed to unreadable, those muscles relaxed and he unclamped his jaw to say roughly, ‘Fran something or other? What a fool I was not to connect the name when Sarah rang me about the gem of a new governess they’d sent her. How did you do it, Francesca Valentine? Forge a few references? Or did you buy out Acme?’

The savage scorn and disgust in his voice seared Francesca and she went a little pale. But she managed to say evenly, ‘I forged nothing. I—’

‘Oh, come on! How the hell do you expect me to believe that?’

‘I don’t care what you choose to believe,’ she said tautly. ‘But you won’t be able to disbelieve that I have an arts degree with a teaching diploma because I can prove it. I can also prove that I’ve worked regularly with handicapped children, and those institutions were very happy to supply me with references.’

‘What about your honesty and integrity?’ he shot back.

‘Strangely enough, I had no trouble finding several people to vouch for my honesty and integrity—people who were even happy to commit to paper the fact that I had no police record, no vices, no—’

‘Vices?’ he said scornfully. ‘And what would you describe this as? Above-board and open-handed? Honest? To change your name and masquerade as someone you’re not in order to worm your way into a household where you know damn well you’re the last person who would be wanted?’ The grey of his eyes resembled cold steel as he added, ‘And that brings us to why you did it.’

The awkward question, of course, Francesca acknowledged in her mind, and paused before answering to make sure she presented her case coolly and clinically. It proved to be a fatal pause.

Raefe Stevensen advanced several steps to stand right in front of her and look down at her with all his old insolent cynicism as he said softly, ‘Don’t try to con me further, Chessie. I know the answer. You don’t like to think any man can walk away from you, do you? You came here with one aim in mind, didn’t you? To add me to your list of scalps.’

There was so much tension between them that Francesca found herself briefly possessed of the notion that the air was crackling with static, and she realised as she spoke that her voice was alive with it. ‘Don’t you kid yourself, Raefe Stevensen,’ she said unevenly, barely concealing the wild anger that ran through her veins.

But he only looked coldly amused. Then he subjected her damp, glowing body to the most minute scrutiny. Her bare neck and shoulders, her firm lovely breasts and the erect nipples clearly visible beneath the wisp of violet silk, the curve of her hips and thighs, adorned by what suddenly seemed to Francesca to be a particularly small triangle of silk, the sweep of her legs. He scrutinised her so effectively, she was made to feel as if he was running his hands over every curve, every secret, intimate part of her.

Then he said mockingly, ‘This is really why, isn’t it, Chessie Valentine? You can’t believe any man could be unaffected by your...’ his grey gaze swept her body again ‘...admittedly very beautiful body, your lovely face and, most of all, your father’s millions. You assume that they will distract them from your shallow little soul.’

Francesca stared at him with her lips parted incredulously.

‘And that’s why,’ he went on, ‘you’re to be found on my beach in your designer bikini. I’m quite sure if this hadn’t happened first you’d have found the opportunity to parade yourself before me in it somehow,’ he finished with lethal gentleness.

Francesca came to life, bent to gather her towel and forced herself to tie it around her waist steadily, although her fingers were trembling, and only when she was done did she say, ‘If you ever insult me again, Raefe Stevensen, or take it upon yourself to kiss me again, believe me, you will pay—even if I have to use all of my father’s despised resources to achieve it. Now get out of my way,’ she ordered.

But he laughed softly, and then really took her breath way. ‘It’s no crime to look. Why don’t you come for a swim with me? Perhaps I could send you away from Bramble not entirely—frustrated.’

And he moved around her, dropped his trousers carelessly to the sand and strode into the water.

Francesca had barely reached the safety of her room and started to toss clothes into her bags when she heard, through her window, Sarah say delightedly, ‘Why, Raefe! When did you get home? How did you get home? Gosh, you’re all wet!’

Francesca clenched her fists then moved to the window so that she could see out of it but was hidden by the yellow sherbet coloured curtain. She was just in time to see Raefe bestow a light kiss on his sister’s brow. He’d put his trousers on but his fair hair was plastered to his head and dripping and his tanned, magnificent shoulders glistened with droplets of water in the early sun.

She heard him say, ‘I’ve only just arrived. I drove down because all the choppers are out. For the last fifty miles all I’ve been thinking of is a swim.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Good thinking! No one’s up yet. Raefe, you wouldn’t believe how lucky we are with the new governess! She’s even got Jess to sleep in—and she cooks too!’

‘Does she, now?’ Raefe Stevensen said on a distinctly dry note, but his sister seemed not to notice.

‘I’m just hoping and praying she’ll stay with us. But I do wonder...’

‘What do you wonder, beloved?’

‘Well, she’s—I’m sure she’s capable of doing much more with her life, somehow. She’s very well educated, and from the odd thing she’s let slip she’s well travelled and so on... By the way, did I mention she’s absolutely lovely as well?’ Was there a touch of ingenuousness in the way Sarah said that? Francesca wondered.

‘You did not—I can’t wait to meet this paragon. Why, if it isn’t Miss Jessica Stevensen!’ he added, and fielded a joyful, flying, fair-haired missile, sweeping her up into his arms. ‘How are you today, poppet?’

‘I’m fine, Daddy,’ Jess replied excitedly. ‘Guess what? I’ve got a new governess. She says I can call her Chessie and she’s teaching me to do long division.’

‘Goodness me—won’t be long before I’ll be able to hand the books over to you, but—’

‘I really like Chessie,’ Jess went on. ‘She’s also teaching me to swim—’

‘You can swim,’ her father objected.

‘But I’m learning to do backstroke now,’ Jess said proudly.

‘I see.’ Raefe put her down but kept her by his side as his long fingers played with her fair curls. ‘Uh—would you tell this Chessie I’d like to see her in my study in half an hour, please?’

‘She’ll be starting breakfast by now—why don’t you see her in the kitchen, Raefe?’ Sarah suggested. ‘By the way, don’t forget I have to get to Cairns somehow tomorrow for an X-ray to see how my wrist is healing.

‘You know, I thought, seeing as you’re not so busy now, and seeing as Fran—or Chessie—is here and coping so admirably, I might just take a bit of a break. I haven’t been to Brisbane for a while.’ Sarah stopped, and it was as if a cloud had gone over the landscape of her expression for a moment. ‘But I really should go,’ she added quietly. ‘What do you think?’

Francesca moved away from the window with a suddenly thoughtful frown.

‘We meet again, Miss Valentine.’

‘So we do, Mr Stevensen.’

‘Sit down.’

It was about an hour later. Francesca had made and served breakfast, although not to Raefe, who had not appeared in the kitchen but sent a message to keep his hot. She had also packed her bags and was dressed in her cream trousers and cream and green checked shirt. Sarah had taken Jess for a walk, fortuitously, so the house was empty, and Francesca had taken the bull by the horns and walked into Raefe’s study. She sank into a chair.

They eyed each other until he said casually, ‘I thought you’d have shaken the dust of Bramble from your shoes by now, Chessie. I presume that brand-new four-wheel-drive vehicle is yours?’

‘It is—I had no intention of being at your mercy again over the matter of transport,’ she replied crisply, then added abruptly, ‘How do you want to do this?’

‘Do what?’ He’d changed into navy shorts and a white T-shirt, and the task of driving two hundred miles overnight appeared not to have made any impact on him as he lounged behind the beautiful mahogany table that served as a desk.

‘As if you didn’t know—arrange my departure,’ she said scornfully. ‘Because I refuse to simply disappear. I don’t do that to children, or people I happen to like.’

He sat up and clasped his hands on the desk. ‘What do you suggest, Chessie?’

Francesca reined in her anger at the insulting way he used her name. Everything was insulting to her, including the way his grey gaze lingered on the front of her checked blouse, as if he was seeing beneath it. ‘I could claim to have had a call to go home for some urgent reason. That way I can say goodbye properly.’

He appeared to reflect for a moment, then said, ‘We still haven’t got to the bottom of why you did this—want to tell me?’

‘Oh, I thought we had,’ she replied innocently. ‘You seem to have worked it out down to the last dotting of the i’s and crossing of the t’s!’

‘I gather you have another version, though.’ There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

‘Ah, but why waste my time, since you’re so determined to disbelieve anything I say?’ she murmured with irony, and added, ‘Look, let’s get this sorted out, shall we? I’d like to get back to Cairns by tonight.’

‘Chessie...’ He frowned, then sat back. ‘What would you believe of a girl who is frequently seen on the social pages in revealing gowns and with renta-crowd escorts? Whose twenty-first birthday party was a three-day event on Hayman Island? Who was given a Porsche for her eighteenth birthday? Whose name has been linked romantically with a lot of men and who, apparently, was banished up to this neck of the woods by her father because of an involvement with a married man?’

Francesca blinked. ‘Who told you that?’

‘It’s not true?’ he countered coolly.

‘No, it’s not! Not in that sense—I wasn’t banished. If you think my father can afford to moralise to me—’ She stopped abruptly.

‘Go on—so there was no married man?’ Francesca stared at him, then said wearily, ‘Yes, there was, but, believe me, it was he who was making a nuisance of himself, not the other way around.’

Their gazes locked and held, and Francesca’s deep blue eyes did not waver. Nor did they hide her sense of outrage.

This caused Raefe Stevensen to smile briefly and say, ‘So why did you do this?’

‘For the sheer pleasure of proving to you that I am not useless,’ she said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I must have hit quite a nerve.’

‘And I presume it would be too much to expect for you to admit that you may have made a mistake about me, but it doesn’t matter,’ she said swiftly, and stood up. ‘As they say in Asia, I hope you have an interesting life, Mr Stevensen. Your brand of arrogance certainly deserves it!’

But he only laughed softly. ‘Chessie,’ he remonstrated, still grinning, ‘you have a very short memory! Are you not the girl who started all this by threatening to buy out my means of livelihood and have me sacked? If that’s not arrogance...’ He shook his head wryly.

Francesca clenched her fists, and he watched with interest the effort she made not to take the bait. ‘Look, I’m going,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell them whatever I please, and—’

He interrupted her to say, ‘I’ve got another idea. Why don’t you stay for a couple of weeks?’

‘Oh, no. Oh, no! How can you possibly—?’

‘Perhaps we could start again,’ he said smoothly.

‘Start again? You’ve got to be joking.’ Her glance was withering.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘And neither am I. You seem to forget that all I did was take exception to being kept waiting for so long—the first utterly arrogant action in this duel if you ask me—’

‘I was on the phone,’ he said mildly.

‘And you surely don’t believe what I said was anything more than a retaliatory tactic?’ she shot back. ‘Whilst you...you insulted me, kissed me against my will and this morning took the unbelievable liberty of—of undressing me with your eyes, which is to put it very mildly. No. And don’t bother to offer to pay me either, Mr. Stevensen. This—baggage—would rather you owed her one.’ She turned on her heel.

‘There wasn’t a lot of you left to undress,’ he said. ‘But—I apologise for that.’