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“I love this dress,” Jason murmured.
“I’d love it even better if it was lying on the grass. I can’t go another day, another night without you, Liv. Let me love you, as I want to. Don’t be sad and bitter. I’ve been punished.”
Olivia was very near tears. “What are you saying, Jason? You want us to start over?”
“Yes!” His tone was urgent, heartfelt. “Haven’t we both suffered enough? I want you back, Liv.”
Margaret Way takes great pleasure in her work and works hard at her pleasure. She enjoys tearing off to the beach with her family at weekends, loves haunting galleries and auctions and is completely given over to French champagne “for every possible joyous occasion.” She was born and educated in the river city of Brisbane, Australia, and now lives within sight and sound of beautiful Moreton Bay.
His Heiress Wife
Margaret Way
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
ON THAT hot November afternoon before school broke up for the Christmas vacation Olivia returned to her trendy inner-city apartment to find the red light flashing on her answering machine. She pushed the button leaning casually against the kitchen counter to listen to her messages. While she was waiting she kicked off her shoes, contemplating a swim in the apartment complex’s pool to relax and wind-down. She gave her attention to the mail, sorting through it quickly. She was so looking forward to the long summer break. In many ways it had been an exhausting year. Adolescent girls weren’t the easiest people in the world to deal with. especially the ones who had embarked on sex lives.
There was a postcard from a friend who was always dashing off to exotic parts of the world—this time Peru, hence the picture of the ruins of Machu Picchu; a stack of invitations to Christmas functions and parties, the phone bill—accompanied by a booklet of helpful hints; a letter from a favoured charity that specialized in looking after families in need thanking her for her generous Christmas donation. She was pleased to help in fact she felt duty bound. Her career as a secondary school teacher was flourishing. She had slipped into prestigious Ormiston Girls Grammar three years earlier as though the job had been tailor made for her. She was well paid and she had private means. Why shouldn’t she give something back to the community? She’d sent off cheques to other charities as well.
The first recorded message was from Matt Edwards who she had been seeing quite a bit. Matt wanted to know if she’d fancy a romantic weekend at the glorious beach resort of Noosa on the Sunshine Coast. She’d have to think about that one. She enjoyed Matt’s company. He was an interesting man, but alas not rivetting. Rivetting men were few and far between which was just as well for the protection of women—such men became dangerous in the blink of an eye. Olivia thought it better to settle for quiet, everlasting devotion.
Matt was attractive with a dry sense of humour that appealed to her. He was getting to make quite a name for himself as a corporate lawyer. He’d just bought himself an expensive new car which miracle of miracles he’d allowed her to take for a short drive around the block. One would have to look really hard to find a man who appreciated a woman’s driving skills let alone her intelligence, but then Matt was devoting a lot of his energies to winning Olivia over with a view to getting her to the altar. The sad part was, he wasn’t succeeding. She already knew she would never love him.
She knew all about love—the sort of love that enraptured or ruined. It was Heaven or Hell and there seemed to be no in-between. Attraction was too tame after that. Any day now she would have to tell Matt he was wasting precious time. She just couldn’t commit. Maybe it all stemmed from the fact that once she’d almost been married. Sometimes when she was tired or depressed and slipped unwillingly into memory she thought she might always be on her own. She’d taken scissors to her wedding dress and veil and a week later she’d cut off her long mane. No man would slide his fingers through her hair again.
“Liv, you push the guys away!” That was her friend, Julie talking. Julie tended to nag her. The thing was it wasn’t easy to forget what love was like—even when love was done.
The second message was from the mother of a really problematic kid in her Maths class who’d made flouncing out of lessons an art form. Olivia hadn’t been prepared to tolerate that. A grateful mother thanked her for achieving “wonderful results with Charlotte” the third from a recently married colleague inviting her and Matt over to a dinner party—“I’m getting in early, kiddo! You’re amazingly popular.”
The last message profoundly shocked her. The letter opener fell out of her nerveless hand, clattering onto the tiles. Olivia moved with urgency nearer the machine, her heart lurching in anticipation of the bad news she knew instinctively was to come.
The voice was as familiar as her own but it was not the good-natured affectionate ramble she was used to. Instead Grace Gordon, Harry’s long-time housekeeper, sounded wildly upset. The words came tumbling out so fast Olivia had difficulty making out exactly what Grace was saying.
“Livvy, it’s me. It’s Gracie, love.” The voice invaded the small kitchen so loudly, it reverberated down the galley. “Livvy, you have to come home.”
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. What was wrong? It struck her immediately that it must be Harry. Harry always kept good health, but he was well into his seventies.
“Something awful has happened.” The words crackled down the line. “I couldn’t get through to you at the school. Some awful woman—so rude—told me you were in a meeting with the Head and couldn’t be disturbed. I hate to be the bearer of sad news, love.” There was a pause, as Grace battled her choking sobs, “It’s your uncle Harry,” she wailed, confirming Olivia’s worst fears. “He’s had a massive heart attack. He’s dead, Livvy! Three o’clock this afternoon just when I had a nice cup of tea ready for him. It was a terrible shock—it came right out of the blue. He’d been right as rain. Jason has been wonderful. A tower of strength.”
Jason? For an instant Olivia felt slashed open. How many Jasons could there be? The name struck another frightful blow. Olivia reeled back against the granite-topped counter, putting a hand over her thudding heart. What was Jason doing at Havilah? He had no right to show his face there ever again!
“Come home, love,” Grace was imploring, unable to gain control