The Girl he Never Noticed Page 6

  ‘You should bring her over to play with me,’ Archie said.

  ‘Oh—’

  Cam intervened. ‘We’ll see, Archie. Can I have Liz now?’

  Archie agreed, but grudgingly.

  ‘You made a hit there,’ Cam commented as they walked back to the house.

  ‘You get into “little kid mode” if you’re around them long enough,’ Liz said humorously, and stepped through the dolphin doors—only to stop with a gasp.

  The entrance hall was a gallery that led to a lounge below. It had a vast stone fireplace and some priceless-looking rugs scattered about the stone-flagged floor. It was furnished with sumptuously comfortable settees and just a few equally priceless-looking ornaments and paintings. The overall colour scheme was warm and inviting—cream and terracotta with dashes of mint-green. But it was the wall of ceiling-high windows overlooking the most stunning view that had made Liz gasp.

  A valley dropped precipitously below that wall of windows and fled away into the morning sunlight in all its wild splendour.

  ‘It’s—amazing. Do you ever get used to it?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really. It changes—different lights, different times of day, different weather. Uh—the study is down those stairs.’

  The study came as another surprise to Liz. It presented quite a different view—a sunlit, peaceful view—across a formal garden to grassy paddocks with wooden fences and horses grazing, lazily switching their tails. Beyond the paddocks she could see a shingle-roofed building with two wings and a clock tower in the middle—obviously the stables.

  She turned back from the windows and surveyed the study. It was wood-panelled and lined with books on two sides. On the other walls there were very similar paintings to those in his office in Sydney: horses and trawlers. Her lips twitched.

  The carpet was Ming blue, and the chairs on either side of the desk were covered in navy leather.

  She sat down as directed, and he took his place behind the desk.

  ‘I don’t know how you manage to tear yourself away from the place,’ she commented, as he poured coffee from a pewter flask. She cocked her head to one side as she accepted her cup. ‘Was the menagerie your idea?’

  ‘More or less.’ He stirred his coffee. ‘Archie’s always been interested in animals, so I thought instead of mice in shoeboxes we might as well do it properly.’ He looked down at his mug, ‘It has also, I think, helped him get over the loss of his mother.’

  Liz hesitated, then decided not to pursue that. ‘Well, I am here to work, so—’ She broke off when she noticed an ironic little glint in his eye as he crossed his arms and simply watched her.

  And it all came flooding back—what had been said in the car before her enchantment with his gardens and his nephew’s menagerie had claimed her.

  She closed her eyes as she felt the colour that flooded her cheeks. As her lashes fluttered up, she said with effort, ‘Let’s not go there, Mr Hillier. In fact I refuse to discuss it.’

  He lay back in his chair, dangling a silver pen in his long fingers. ‘Why? It did happen.’

  ‘It was an aberration,’ Liz said coolly, reverting to her Ice Queen role.

  He grinned—a full version of that crooked but utterly charismatic smile this time. ‘Just a bit of naughtiness between two people for reasons unknown?’

  ‘Well,’ Liz said, thinking fast, ‘you had been stood up out of the blue. Could that have been at the back of your mind?’

  ‘Portia couldn’t have been further from my mind.’ He drummed his fingers on the desk and shrugged. ‘That may sound—’

  ‘It sounds pretty cold-blooded,’ she broke in.

  He looked at her. ‘Portia thought that in exchange for her—charms—she could persuade me to back a clothing range. Swimsuits, in fact. She had her heart set on designing and no doubt modelling them,’ he said dryly. ‘When I looked into it I found it was an overcrowded market and a poor investment. Despite the fact that I’d never made any promises of any kind, she took the view that I had—uh—two-timed her.’

  Liz blinked. ‘Oh?’

  He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘I am,’ Liz confessed.

  ‘You assumed it was all over another woman?’ he suggested, with a glint of wicked amusement in his eyes.

  Liz bit her lip and looked annoyed, because she knew she was being mocked. All the same it was what she’d automatically assumed. ‘Well…yes. But did you honestly expect her still to want to go out with you?’ she added. ‘I would have thought not.’

  Cam Hillier dragged his hand through his hair with a rueful look. ‘Yep—got that bit wrong,’ he confessed. ‘I thought she’d at least trust my judgement.’ He shrugged. ‘Where money’s concerned anyway.’

  ‘I see,’ Liz said—quite inadequately, she felt. But what else could she say?

  He sat back with a faint smile. ‘And it is over between us.’

  ‘But only yesterday it didn’t sound as if it was over for her!’ Liz protested.

  ‘Look, it is now,’ he said dryly. ‘Believe me.’

  Liz shivered suddenly as she watched his mouth set, and knew she couldn’t disbelieve him.

  ‘But don’t for one minute imagine that Portia won’t find someone else.’ He paused and looked at her penetratingly. ‘Probably a lot sooner than I will, since you’re so hell-bent on being the Ice Queen.’

  Liz’s lips parted in sheer shock. ‘How did you…?’

  He shrugged. ‘We’ve known each other for nearly a month now. Quite long enough for me to detect when you’re in chilly mode.’

  Liz blinked helplessly several times and opened her mouth—but he spoke first. ‘Never mind, we’ll leave all that aside. How are you with horses?’

  She opened her mouth again—to repeat bewilderedly Horses?—but just stopped herself in time. ‘I have no idea why you want to know,’ she said, ‘but I like horses. I rode as a kid. If, though, you’re going to ask me about trawlers, I’ve never been on one and have no desire to do so!’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘Why would I?’

  Liz gestured to the walls. ‘They seem to go together for you. Horses and trawlers. And, probably because I don’t understand any of this, in a fog of bewilderment I thought they might come next.’

  He looked quizzical. ‘No, but I suppose they do go together for me. I inherited a trawler fleet from my father, which eventually made the horses possible.’

  Liz gazed at him. ‘Why Shakespeare, though?’

  He looked surprised. ‘You noticed?’

  She nodded.

  ‘My mother again,’ he said. ‘She was hot on Shakespeare.’

  ‘I see.’ Liz was silent for a moment, then, ‘Do you want to tell me why it matters whether I like horses? Come to that, why you’ve pretty thoroughly gone through my background with a toothcomb—and why I have the feeling I’m up here under false pretences?’ she added, as she was gripped by the sensation that all was not what it seemed.

  ‘Well, it is about engaging staff, Liz. I’d like to offer you the position of managing this place.’

  This time Liz was struck seriously speechless.

  ‘It’s not a domestic position, it’s a logistic one,’ he went on. ‘I do quite a lot of entertaining up here, and we often have house parties. I have good household staff, but I need someone to co-ordinate things both here and in the stables.’

  ‘How…how so?’ she asked, her voice breaking and husky with surprise. ‘I’m not that good with horses.’

  ‘It’s not to do with the horses per se. We stand three stallions, we have twenty of our own mares, and we agist outside mares in foal and with foals at foot. The paperwork to keep track of it all alone is a big job. Checking the pedigrees of prospective mares for our stallions—it goes on. I need someone who can organise all that on a computer program.’

  Liz breathed deeply but said nothing.

  ‘I need to free up my stud master and the people who actually work with the horses from t
he paperwork—and incidentally free them up from all the people who stream in and out of the place.’

  ‘Ah.’ It was all Liz could think of to say.

  He cast her an ironic little look, but continued. ‘There’s a comfortable staff cottage that would go with the position—big enough for you and Scout, as well as your mother. There’s even a ready-made friend for Scout in Archie,’ he said, and gazed at her steadily.

  ‘But—’ She stopped to clear her throat. ‘Why me?’

  ‘You’ve impressed me,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘You’re as good as Roger—if not better in some areas. I think you’re wasted as a diary secretary. I think you have the organisational skills as well as the people skills to do the job justice.’

  ‘I…’ Liz pressed her hands together and took another deep breath. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she confessed. ‘It’s the last thing I was expecting.’

  ‘Let’s talk remuneration, then.’ And for the next few minutes he outlined a package that was generous. So much so that to knock it back would be not so much looking a gift horse in the mouth but kicking it in the teeth…

  ‘We’d have a three-month trial period,’ he said, and grinned. ‘Just in case you hanker for the bright lights or whatever.’

  ‘If I didn’t bring my mother—’ Liz heard herself say cautiously, then couldn’t go on.

  He eyed her narrowly. ‘Why wouldn’t you?’

  She gestured, then told him about the note she’d intercepted. ‘She’s been so wonderful, but I know it’s something she’d love to do—I just haven’t been able to work out how.’ She shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t work up here, either.’

  ‘You could share Archie’s nanny for the times when you couldn’t be with Scout.’

  Liz stared at him, her eyes suddenly dark and uncertain. ‘Why are you doing this—really? Are there any strings attached?’

  ‘Such as?’ He said it barely audibly.

  ‘Such as going down a slippery slope into your bed?’

  They stared at each other and she saw his eyes harden, but he answered in a drawl, ‘My dear Liz, if you imagine I’d need to go to all these lengths to do that, you’re wrong.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You know as well as I do that if we gave each other just the smallest leeway we wouldn’t be able to help ourselves. But—and I emphasise this—’ his voice hardened this time ‘—if you prefer to go on your solitary way, so be it.’

  ‘You were the one who brought it up,’ Liz said hotly, then looked uncomfortable.

  ‘At least I’m honest,’ he countered.

  ‘I haven’t been dishonest.’

  ‘Not precisely,’ he agreed, and simply waited for her reply.

  Liz ground her teeth. ‘What you may not know is that being a single mother lays you open to…to certain men thinking you’re…promiscuous.’

  She wasn’t expecting any more surprises at this point, but she got one when Cameron Hillier leant forward suddenly, his blue eyes intent. ‘I know quite a bit about single mothers. My sister was one—and that, I guess, even while I’m not prepared to be dishonest, is why I have some sympathy for you, Liz Montrose.’

  Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. So that explained the understanding she thought she’d seen in his eyes when she’d told him her story!

  ‘And, further towards complete honesty,’ he went on, ‘I need the right influence in Archie’s life at the moment—which I think you could be. I can’t be with him nearly as much as I should. He starts school next year, so that will distance us even more. I want this last year of his before school to be memorable for him. And safe. And happy.’

  ‘You don’t know—how do you know I could do that?’

  He sat back. ‘I saw you with him just now. I’ve seen, from the moment you first mentioned her, how much your daughter means to you. How it lights you up just to say her name.’

  ‘I still…’ She paused helplessly. ‘It’s come up so fast!’

  ‘It’s part of my success—the ability to sum things up and make quick decisions.’

  Liz looked at him askance. ‘Your modesty is amazing at times.’

  ‘I know,’ he agreed seriously, but she could suddenly see the glimmer of laughter in his eyes.

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Er…excuse me?’ a strange voice said, and they both swung round to see a woman standing in the doorway. ‘Lunch is ready, Mr Hillier. I’ve served it in the kitchen if that’s all right with you?’

  Cam Hillier rose. ‘That’s fine, Mrs Preston. Thank you.’

  It was a huge kitchen—brick-walled, with a tiled floor and rich woodwork. Herbs grew in pots along the windowsills, a vast antique dresser displayed a lovely array of china, but all the appliances were modern and stainless steel.

  There was a long refectory table at one end that seated six in ladder-back chairs with raffia seats.

  The lady who answered to ‘Mrs Preston’, grey-haired, pink-cheeked and of comfortable girth, was dishing up steaks, Liz saw, and baked Idaho potatoes topped with sour cream and chives. A bowl brimming with salad—cos lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, capsicum and shallots—was also set out, and there was a bread basket laden with fresh warm rolls.

  The steaks, she realised from their tantalising aroma, had been marinated and grilled along with button mushrooms.

  A bottle of red wine was breathing in a pottery container.

  ‘Hungry?’ Cam asked as they sat down.

  ‘I’ve suddenly realised I’m starving,’ she confessed and looked around. ‘Where’s Archie?’

  ‘At the dentist in Leura—just for a check-up. Mrs Preston,’ Cam added, ‘may I tell Miss Montrose what you told me on the phone a couple of days ago?’

  Mrs Preston blinked at Liz, then said, ‘Of course.’

  Cam reached for the bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. ‘For quite some years now Mrs Preston has been housekeeper and most inspired chef all rolled into one.’ He lifted his glass in a silent toast and went on, ‘Well, maybe you’d like to tell it, Mrs Preston?’

  The housekeeper clasped her hands together and faced Liz. ‘I did ring Mr Hillier a couple of days ago because I knew he’d understand.’ She stopped to cast her boss an affectionate glance. ‘I’m getting on a bit now,’ she went on to Liz, ‘and I’d really like to concentrate on my cooking. I’ve always liked to choose my own fresh ingredients, but for the rest of the provisioning of a household this size, and with the amount of entertaining we do, I’d like just to be able to write a list and hand it over to someone.’

  She paused to draw several breaths and then continued, ‘I don’t want to have to worry any more about the state of the linen closet or whether we need new napkins. I don’t want to have to worry about the hiring and firing of the cleaning staff, or counting the silver in case any of them are light-fingered, or wondering if I gave the same set of guests the same meals the last time they were here because I forgot to make a note of it. I’d rather there was someone who could co-ordinate it all,’ she said a little wistfully.

  Cam looked at Liz with a question in his eyes, and she registered the fleeting thought that he hadn’t conjured up this job he’d offered her out of the blue—for whatever reason. It did exist. What also existed, she found herself thinking, was the fact that Cameron Hillier was well-loved by his staff. Not only Mrs Preston but Molly Swanson—and a few others she had met…

  She swallowed a piece of melt-in-the-mouth steak and said, ‘I think, whatever the outcome—my outcome, I mean—it would be criminal to burden you with all those other things any longer, Mrs Preston. This meal is one of the most delicious I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Montrose.’ Mrs Preston looked set to turn away, but she hesitated and added, ‘Archie really took to you. He said you’ve got a little girl?’

  ‘I do,’ Liz confirmed. ‘She’s nearly four.’

  ‘It’s a wonderful place for kids up here.’

  ‘So far, what do you think?
’ Cam Hillier queried as they walked side-by-side down to the stables after lunch.

  There was a light breeze to temper the bite of the sun and to stir her hair, and the summery smell of grass and horses was all around as the path wound through the paddocks.

  ‘I—I still don’t know what to say,’ Liz confessed.

  He looked down at her. ‘In case you’re worried it’s a glorified housekeeper position, I can tell you that you’d not only be in charge of the inner workings of the house but also the gardens—the whole damn lot,’ he said, with a wave of his hand.

  ‘Surely you’d be better off with a man?’ she countered. ‘I mean a man who could…well…’ She looked around a little helplessly. ‘Mend fences and so on.’

  ‘A man who could mend fences in all likelihood couldn’t run the house. A woman, on the other hand, with a sharp eye and the ability to hire the help she needs when she needs it, should be able to do both.’ He paused and looked down at her. ‘A woman, furthermore, who stands no nonsense from anyone has to be an asset.’

  Liz released a long slow breath. ‘You make me feel like a sergeant-major. I’m sorry I once threatened you, but you did ask for it.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ he said gravely. ‘Where were we? Yes. The house does need some upgrading. I’ve noticed it lately. Also there’s the stable computer program.’

  Liz was silent.

  ‘It would look good on your résumé,’ he said. ‘Manager of the Yewarra Estate. It would look better than Temporary Diary Secretary.’

  ‘Assuming I agreed, when would you expect me to start?’

  He looked down at her wryly. ‘Not before Roger comes back and you hand over to him. And you might need a few days off to get organised. Here we are.’

  The stables were picturesque, with tubs of petunias dotted about, swept walkways and the earthy smell of manure combined with the sweet smell of hay on the air. They were also a hive of activity—and Liz saw what Cam Hillier had meant when he’d mentioned all the people who streamed in and out of the place. The stables had a separate entrance from the house.

  The office yielded another scene. A giant of a man in his forties, with sandy hair and freckles, and ‘outdoor type’ written all over him, was sitting in front of a computer almost literally tearing his hair out.