The Nanny and the Millionaire: Promoted: Nanny to Wife / The Italian Tycoon and the Nanny / The Millionaire's Nanny Arrangement

Riley shook his head with regret. ‘Nali wanted to stay with me, but the rest of the tribe wanted to go walkabout. He was just a boy like me but his uncle was a tribal elder and a powerful medicine man. Nali had to do what he was told.’

‘I should think so. Disobeying a powerful medicine man isn’t exactly a laughing matter,’ Holt said. ‘We have an ex-kadaicha man on Wungalla, although I don’t believe he’s completely shut up shop. I’ll introduce you one day.’

‘Oh, that would be great!’ Riley regarded Holt McMaster with such a look of approval and respect. Marissa felt a momentary pang of ignoble jealousy. ‘May I go find Georgia, sir?’ he asked.

Marissa shook her head. ‘You’ll meet her soon, Riley.’ She didn’t want to curb his high spirits at the same time she thought they should take time to negotiate their way.

‘Don’t worry about him, he’s fine,’ Holt decided. ‘She’s out in the garden somewhere.’

Riley laughed happily. ‘I really want us to be friends.’

Marissa forced herself to stay quiet. Making friends with a little person given to profligate tantrums might be easier said than done. On the other hand Riley could have a calming effect. His was the sunniest of natures when his short life had been full of troubles.

‘Then off you go.’ Holt McMaster gave him the okay. ‘You’ve got plenty of space to play in. Don’t go outside the compound wall?’

‘Yes, sir!’ Riley called, his small figure already flying down the steps.

‘Right, I’ve got things to do,’ Holt clipped off, ‘but I won’t say no to lunch. Make it 1:00 p.m., Olly. Meanwhile you can get Ms Devlin settled.’

‘No problem,’ Olly answered in the way that made Marissa feel very much at ease. So far so good. She thought she could even get used to Holt McMaster’s sardonic ways. ‘Come on love. Follow me,’ Olly said. ‘Where’s your luggage by the way?’

‘Hal is bringing it in,’ Holt turned back to remark. ‘What there is of it. Marissa believes in travelling light.’

‘Never mind, love,’ Olly said comfortably. ‘There’s a really good store in Coorabri,’ unknowingly echoing her boss’s comment, ‘where you’ll be able to buy a few outfits for yourself and the boy. Beautiful child, I must say.’

Marissa prepared herself for yet another explanation of their relationship. Olly, like most people, probably assumed Riley was hers. ‘He’s as beautiful inside as out,’ she said proudly.

‘Let’s hope some of it brushes off on Georgia,’ Holt McMaster said before taking off down the steps.

He had all the grace of a natural born athlete, Marissa thought, looking after him. It was difficult not to. And something of a dancer thrown in. He was without question the most stunning looking man she had ever seen outside her own beloved father.

When she turned around, Olly’s shrewd blue eyes were studying her. ‘Come along now, love. Let’s get you settled before lunch. You won’t be meeting Mrs McMaster, Holt’s grandmother, today but Georgia’s aunt, Lois Aldridge, as I expect you know, will be back soon for lunch. You ride yourself?’ Olly asked, not sounding terribly hopeful the answer would be in the affirmative.

‘Yes, I do,’ Marissa said, her eyes moving irresistibly all around the spacious entrance hall. The most transcendent feature was a very grand divided staircase with a huge stained-glass panel towering above the landing. The colours in the panel were simply wonderful! Graceful black wrought-iron balustrades encased the mahogany staircase. The floor was a traditional black and white marble. A circular library table stood on a circular Persian rug, centred beneath a huge crystal chandelier. The table displayed to advantage a stunning flower arrangement of masses of yellow roses, pine and dried twisted vines in a large Byzantine-gold container. There were paintings, as well. A console with a tall gilded mirror above it, two matching antique chairs with gilded bronze winged panthers supporting the arms, there just wasn’t time to take everything in. Obviously this was a house of serious collectors.

‘That’s a blessing,’ Olly was saying, sounding relieved. ‘The last lass never could get the hang of it. One simply has to be able to ride on a station. What about young Riley?’

‘He’s a natural,’ Marissa told her.

‘Like mother, like son.’

Marissa had to make the relationship plain. ‘He’s my brother, Olly. Half brother really. He’s my late father’s.’

Olly swung about, clasping her hands together as though in prayer. ‘Then where’s his mother, child?’

‘She’s gone and she won’t be coming back,’ Marissa said, her voice matter-of-fact.

‘Good Lord! This must be very hard for you, Marissa.’ Olly paused, one hand on a newel. ‘You’re what, twenty-two, twenty-three?’

‘Nearly twenty-four. It is hard, but I have a big consolation. I love Riley. He’s my family.’

‘Of course he is, love.’ Without further comment Olly began to mount the staircase, taking the left hand side to the upper gallery also balustraded in the same decorative wrought-iron.

Whether Olly believed her was anyone’s guess. With Riley constantly addressing her as Ma, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be believed. Yet she couldn’t break him of the habit. Having a stable mother figure in his life loomed very large in Riley’s mind.

The long corridors had polished floors with Persian runners absorbing their footsteps. The walls were showcases for portraits of the McMaster ancestors, a handsome, rather arrogant looking lot like the present owner. Splendid looking chairs stood at intervals if one wanted to sit and admire them.

Olly paused as they came towards the end of the atmospheric hallway. ‘The old schoolroom’s in here, love.’ She opened the door, inviting Marissa to enter.

‘This has been here a while,’ Marissa observed, gazing around the large room.

‘Since the house was built.’ Olly nodded. ‘Quite a few little McMasters have studied here. Holt among them. Think you’ll be happy here?’

Marissa smiled. ‘Indeed I will! I’m very grateful for this job, Olly. It means I can have Riley with me I’m happy already!’ The room was a little on the sombre side—nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a touch of colour—but in perfect order. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with books, well thumbed for the most part, some even dog-eared. A large blackboard was set up near the windows. What looked like the original desks and chairs of some dark golden timber stood in neat rows, ten desks in all. Two marvellous globes on stands caught the eye, terrestrial, celestial.

‘Does Georgia do her lessons here?’ Marissa asked. If she did there was no sign of it.

‘Miss Lois prefers to conduct the lessons down in the Garden Room,’ Olly said. Was that the merest trace of disapproval in her voice? ‘If I might divulge a little secret—just between you and me—not many lessons are going on. I best warn you if Holt hasn’t already done so, little Georgy is a bit of a handful.’

Marissa spoke without thinking. ‘I would never have thought so with a father like that?’

‘Meaning?’ Olly’s sparse eyebrows shot up.

‘I can’t imagine anyone with the temerity to step out of line.’

Olly laughed. ‘Holt can cope with anything and does, but Georgy would break anyone’s heart.’

‘She wants her mother.’ Marissa had great sympathy for the motherless little girl.

‘She wants a mother,’ Olly corrected. ‘Tragically her mother didn’t want her. Georgy is only little but she knows this. Abandonment is at the heart of her problems. You’ll be the one to understand.’

‘Oh, I do, Olly.’ Marissa’s blue eyes misted over. ‘I’m hoping the children take to one another.’

‘Don’t expect results right away, love,’ Olly warned. ‘Come on now. I’ll show you your rooms. They’re across the hallway. Riley can have the room next to yours,’ she said. ‘If you like them, I’ll have them aired and the beds made up.’

Both rooms had lovely views of the rear gardens, though she realised all the rooms would have a view and wonder of wonders there was a fenced swimming pool. ‘That’s not a mirage is it?’ Marissa asked, her eyes on the sparkling turquoise water. Swimming would build Riley up and help his condition. She was a good swimmer herself. She had made the University swim team. To the right of the pool was an open sided pool house with an orange terra cotta tiled roof. The stout pillars that supported the roof were wreathed in flowering morning glories. She could see sofas, tables, dining chairs, comfortable chaises. Great!

‘Used all the time, love,’ Olly told her casually. ‘It’s there to be enjoyed. You’ll have plenty of time to yourself. Holt’s father had it built for Holt and the girls.’

Marissa had to confront her lack of inside information. ‘He has sisters? Forgive me, but I only met Mr McMaster today.’

‘Seems he took a great liking to you,’ Olly observed laconically.

‘I wouldn’t say that exactly—’ Marissa shook her head, not believing he had ‘—but he did want to help us.’

‘That’s Holt.’ Olly shrugged. ‘He has two sisters, Alex—Alexandra—three years older married to the Steven Bailey, merchant banker turned politician, some say Prime Minister in waiting, and Francine, two years younger, a dedicated career woman, finance, not as yet married. Holt’s father died in a tragic accident on the property not long after Holt was married. His mother remarried last year. She now lives in Melbourne, but she visits often.

‘Holt’s grandmother, Catherine, has never left Wungalla for any length of time since she came here as a bride. There have been many trips, of course. She has family in England but this is her home. She won’t be parted from Holt or Wungalla. Holt is his mother’s maiden name, by the way. He was christened Douglas Holt McMaster, but the Douglas never took. It was his uncle Carson, his mother’s brother who started calling him Holt. He has the Holt dark eyes and that distinctive widow’s peak. He must have told you he was divorced?’ Olly looked Marissa right in the eye.