The Final Proposal. Robyn Donald

you to?’

      He didn’t even glance around the room. ‘I think I know most people,’ he said. ‘Sally tells me you’re an image consultant. What exactly does that mean?’

      There was no sign of emotion in his voice, none revealed in the arrogant contours of his face, but she sensed a note of irony that further irritated already raw nerves. ‘Basically, I give people confidence,’ she said sweetly.

      He raised his brows. ‘And how do you train for that?’

      ‘I worked in fashion for a while, and then I became intrigued because some people seemed to know instinctively what suited them, whereas others didn’t have a clue. I started to read up about it, but there wasn’t much to be learnt here, so I had to go to America to find someone who knew what he was doing in the field. When I came back to New Zealand three years ago I decided to set up for myself.’

      ‘You’d be the perfect person,’ he said.

      It should have been a compliment. However, some primitive sense picked up the meaning of words he wasn’t saying, of expressions he controlled, and she said without knowing why, ‘I hear you have an excellent collection of art.’

      He made no modest disclaimer. ‘I think so,’ he said.

      ‘Marcus was very enthusiastic.’

      His mouth curved in a smile that conveyed amusement without softening its naturally hard line. ‘I buy what I like,’ he said. ‘He has talent, but he still feels that emotion and desire are all-important. When he develops discipline I might buy from him.’

      She said firmly, ‘I think he has a great future.’

      ‘It will be interesting to see,’ he said.

      She caught Gerry’s eye. Muscles she hadn’t known were tense relaxed as her cousin moved in with her attendant group of dazzled males, saying cheerfully, ‘You look as though you’re having a terribly earnest discussion.’

      Jan shook her head. ‘Not earnest—but definitely interesting.’

      Her cousin beamed up at Kear, who returned her smile with his overwhelming one.

      He was too astute not to know how potent a weapon that smile was, Jan decided, watching her cousin almost buckle under its impact. However, Gerry had potent weapons too. She’d made the phrase ‘divinely fair’ her own.

      She was tall and willowy as well.

      Provoked on some basic level, Jan summoned her best hostess’s smile, made an excuse and left them talking. Ten minutes later a swift, unnoticed glance revealed that the men Gerry always collected had drifted off, leaving Kear Lannion. in sole possession.

      ‘You shouldn’t let her get away with it,’ Great-Aunt Kit said abruptly. She was Jan’s only surviving relative on her father’s side of the family, the sister of her father’s mother. They were seated in armchairs under the pepper tree, enjoying the warm, rose-scented air.

      Jan grinned. ‘Gerry’s been getting away with it all her life,’ she said cheerfully. ‘She can’t help it. As well as being gorgeous she’s nice. Anyway, he’s not mine.’

      ‘Time you thought of getting married.’

      ‘I’ve decided to follow your example,’ Jan said, smiling at her aunt, who’d never made any secret of her satisfaction with her single state.

      ‘Well, I’ve enjoyed my life, I don’t deny it, but I think you were made for marriage.’

      ‘I haven’t met the right man,’ Jan said, stifling a little sigh.

      From the edge of the terrace there came a muted peal of laughter from Cynthia. Great-Aunt Kit said, ‘There’s no such thing. Look at your mother. She adored your father but she couldn’t be more happy than she is with Stephen.’

      ‘I wish I’d known my father.’

      ‘Hugo was a charming scamp,’ her aunt said acidly. ‘He broke his father’s heart and then he did the same to your mother’s. He might have grown up if he hadn’t died on that racetrack, but I doubt it.’

      ‘I remember him—just isolated incidents,’ Jan said wistfully. ‘And I know my grandfather used to sing nursery rhymes with me. It would have been nice if he’d stayed in New Zealand.’

      Her aunt snorted. ‘He couldn’t bear to see Hugo’s eyes in your face. A fine excuse for running away to Australia!’

      ‘I’d like to know more about your side of the family.’

      ‘There wasn’t much to know about Hugo beyond the fact that he had more charm than was good for him, and the only family he had was a doting father who couldn’t endure his grief. Fergus even blamed your mother for letting Hugo race, when he knew perfectly well it was impossible to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to!’

      Jan hadn’t known this. She said indignantly, ‘What a nerve!’

      ‘He has that, does Fergus Morrison. Ah, well, he adored your father—I suppose it was understandable. He was middle-aged when he married Betsy, and they only ever had Hugo.’ Her voice softened as it always did when she mentioned her only sister, who’d died in childbirth.

      Oddly enough, it wasn’t her father but the restrained figure of her grandfather that Jan had missed the most. She used to wonder why they had both gone, leaving her alone with a mother who had wept for months. Perhaps, she thought now, it had been her memories of the family they’d been that had led her to long so desperately for another. Curiously, she asked, ‘Was there no one else? No aunts or uncles or cousins?’

      ‘Not a one. We had no relatives in New Zealand, and I think Fergus had lost touch with his too.’

      Carefully avoiding the part of the room where Kear Lannion stood, Jan looked around. ‘Family’s important,’ she said softly.

      ‘You’re a nice girl,’ her great-aunt said with unexpected force.

      Jan kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘You look like Cynthia, but you’ve got Betsy’s eyes. Set on the merest slant, and that bright, intense blue. Now, go on; you don’t want to sit here talking to me all night. Here comes Cynthia—you go and enjoy yourself. I want to hear all the gossip, and your mother won’t tell me any if you’re here.’

      Laughing, Jan left them. It was a good party. She looked around in case someone was in trouble, but everyone in the noisy, laughing, chattering crowd appeared to be enjoying themselves without any help from her.

      Then Kear Lannion walked down the steps and came across the lawn. She felt her smile tremble, and before it died forced herself to produce another.

      ‘Hello,’ she said, wondering if she’d overemphasised her bright tone. ‘Can I get you something?’

      The thick dark lashes that curled around his pale eyes screened his thoughts too well. She couldn’t read him at all, and this made her uneasy because normally she was good at body language.

      ‘You can talk to me,’ he said, a hint of irony in his words. ‘You’ve done your duty.’

      ‘What shall we talk about?’

      His mouth tightened, then eased into a lazy, almost insolent smile. ‘Your innermost secrets,’ he said gravely.

      Jan’s brows shot up. ‘Not after such a short acquaintanceship,’ she said, just as seriously, wishing that she could hide behind curtains of long hair like some of her young cousins. Smiling, she parried his bard, intent gaze and said, ‘Tell me about your farm.’

      Yes, that sounded fine—interested but not prying, and social rather than personal. But when she looked up at him, she noticed with a faint quiver in her stomach the speculative gleam in his glance.

      ‘I breed and run beef cattle on Doubtless Bay. Have you ever been up there?’

      ‘It’s