Маргарет Уэй – Australia: Outback Fantasies: Outback Heiress, Surprise Proposal / Adopted: Outback Baby / Outback Doctor, English Bride (страница 10)

Carina made no effort to conceal her amusement. ‘Gosh, are you still a little virgin? I bet you are!’ She trilled with laughter that caused heads to turn.

‘Maybe, as a Forsyth, I don’t fancy the idea of my affairs getting around.’

That appeared to hit the bullseye. ‘What does that mean?’

Francesca shrugged. ‘Nothing, really.’ What sense was there in baiting Carina? ‘Sadly, not all married couples live happily ever after.’

‘Well, I plan to.’ Carina stared fiercely at her cousin, like a fencing opponent determined on slicing her through. ‘I love Bryn. I’ve always loved him. I was meant to have him and I’m going to make certain I do. So don’t ever be fool enough to get in my way, cousin.’

Threat came off Carina in waves.

Francesca was all too familiar with the look. Just so had their grandfather looked when he was laying down the law. ‘When have I ever done that, Carrie?’ she asked quietly. ‘We could have been good friends if you’d only given me a chance.’

‘Given you a chance?’ Carina couldn’t have looked more taken aback. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. To my mind we’re the best and closest of friends.’

‘Surely it’s time to face the truth? We’re not, Carrie. We might as well stop the pretence.’

Carina was holding her hands so tightly together she might be fearing she would lash out. ‘I don’t believe this. And on this day of days!’

‘Maybe that’s the reason. It’s the end of an era; the end of the old life. I wanted to belong. I wanted us to be more like sisters than cousins. But sadly we were never that.’

Carina’s anger suddenly disappeared like a puff of smoke. ‘I hate to hear you talk like this, Francey,’ she said. ‘It makes me feel quite wounded. You obviously have no memory of all the fondness I showed you. What you’re saying sounds quite neurotic. I can’t help knowing all these years that you’ve been sick with envy. Don’t worry. I forgive you. It’s natural enough. But I’ve always tried to be there for you. I’ve always tried to protect you from unpleasantness. I shielded you from Gramps. You made him angry, always looking at him with those big tragic eyes. Anyone would think you were accusing him of something.’

Francesca shook her head. ‘Nonsense!’

‘Not nonsense at all. If I were you, I’d count myself lucky.’

‘A lot of the time I do,’ Francesca freely admitted. ‘Look, Bryn’s coming over.’

‘He’s coming to me!’ Carina pointed out very sharply, her possessive blue eyes following his progress. ‘I dearly need his support.’

‘Of course you do.’

The life force that was in Bryn Macallan made him fairly blaze. Both young women felt it. Both were electrified by it.

Francesca made her escape as swiftly as she could. She mightn’t know the whole truth of Bryn’s relationship with her cousin, but she knew enough not to interfere.

If only … If only …

She made the mistake of glancing back, and any tiny hope she might have nourished withered and died. Bryn held an anguished-looking Carrie against his breast, his raven head bent over hers, a shining blonde against the funereal black of his jacket.

Who said unrequited love wasn’t hell?

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN Francesca finally made it to the relative sanctuary of her old suite of rooms, she found Dami, the maid, putting a pile of fluffy fresh towels in the en suite bathroom, which was almost as big as the living room in Francesca’s apartment.

‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms Forsyth?’ Dami asked. She had already unpacked Francesca’s things and put them away. ‘Would you like tea?’

Francesca glanced out of the window. It was still brilliantly light. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you, Dami.’ There had been any amount of food and drink downstairs, but she hadn’t felt able to touch a thing. The ‘mourners’, however, standing in groups holding plates and glasses aloft, had availed themselves of the sumptuous spread. It might have been a wedding, not a wake. ‘Are you settling in well?’ she checked with the maid, who was a fairly recent addition to the staff.

Dami looked shocked to be asked. ‘Yes, thank you, miss.’ She gave a little nervous bob. ‘What kind of tea, please?’ Eagerness was visible in every line of her slight body. She began to sound off a list.

It was Francesca’s turn to smile. ‘Darjeeling will be fine, Dami. Perhaps you could find a sandwich to go with it?’ It struck her all of a sudden that she had better have something to keep up her strength.

‘Of course, miss,’ Dami said, preparing to withdraw. ‘Shall I draw a bath for you later?’ It was her job to look after Francesca’s every need, and she was obviously taking it very seriously.

Francesca shook her head, marvelling that, after a lifetime of it, she still couldn’t get used to the Forsyth lifestyle of being waited on hand and foot. Even her grandfather’s morning papers had had to be pressed with a warm iron before they were brought to him. ‘I’m not sure of my plans, Dami,’ she said gently. ‘In any case, I can manage, thank you.’

‘Yes, miss.’ Dami gave another little cork-like bob, then vanished to carry out Francesca’s wishes.

After Dami had gone Francesca slipped out of the offending black two-piece suit to which Carina had given the thumbs-down. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it. In fact it was quite elegant. But Carina, she knew, didn’t go for the understated. She hung the suit away, then pulled a pair of narrow black linen trousers off the hanger. She had brought a silk blouse to wear with it, silver-grey in colour. Her head was aching so badly she pulled the pins out of the confining knot and then shook her hair free. Immediately she experienced a sense of lightness that seemed to lessen the throbbing pain in her temples. It might be a good idea to wait for Dami to return with her tea before taking any medication. She wasn’t used to it. Not that there was a problem with a couple of painkillers.

A few minutes later there was a tap on her door and she went to it, fully expecting to see Dami standing there, either carrying a tray or pushing a trolley. At least she wouldn’t have had to come any distance. There was a service elevator, as there had to be in such a mausoleum. Only in the end it wasn’t Dami.

Bryn’s brilliant black eyes studied her. ‘Hi!’

‘Hi!’ Her heart rose like a bird’s. How did one repudiate love? Even when one knew it was paramount to do so?

She yearned for him to lean down and kiss her. Not her cheek, as was their custom, but her mouth. Wasn’t that her most exquisite dream? Only she knew it wasn’t good or wise.

‘What are you doing here?’ She hoped her naked self wasn’t there for him to see in her eyes. ‘I thought you’d be with Carrie?’

He answered question with question. ‘May I come in?’

‘Of course.’ She stood back to admit him. ‘I’ll leave the door open. I asked Dami to get me a cup of tea. Would you like one?’

‘Dear God, no,’ he moaned, walking to the window and looking out over the vast lawn. ‘I wanted to see you. ‘He turned around to regard her, catching her in the act of trying to fashion her long lustrous hair into yet another knot. ‘Leave it,’ he said, his tone more clipped than he’d intended. ‘I like seeing your hair down instead of always dragged back.’

Her hands stilled at his command. For that was what it was. A command. ‘Gosh, it’s not that bad, is it?’ she asked wryly.

‘Of course not. I’m sorry. I tend to feel a bit strongly about it.’

‘Really?’ She couldn’t have been more surprised. ‘So I’ll leave it loose, then?’

‘Damn it, yes. It suits you.’ Loose her hair was the very opposite to the sleekness she achieved with her various coils. It sprang away from her face, full of volume. Swirls of hair cascaded sinuously over her shoulders and down her back to her shoulderblades. Yet she obviously considered wearing her hair loose hugely inappropriate on the day of her grandfather’s funeral.

‘Okay. I get the message. I must remember you don’t like my hair pulled back. It’s just that I don’t like to go down to the will-reading—’

‘What has leaving your hair down got to do with the will-reading?’ he interrupted. ‘It’s beautiful hair.’

‘I thought you preferred blonde?’ It just flew out. She hadn’t meant to say it at all. Now she was embarrassed.

‘Blonde hair is lovely,’ he agreed. ‘But it doesn’t get the shine on it sable hair does.’

‘Don’t tell Carrie that.’

He gave a half smile. ‘Carrie thinks she has the best head of hair in the entire world.’

‘Well, she’d have to come close.’ Francesca leant over to re-align an ornament. There was the sound of tinkling from the corridor. Silver against china. In the next instant Dami appeared in the open doorway, carrying an elaborate silver tray normally associated with very tall butlers and banquets.

Bryn crossed the room to take the tray from her. ‘I’ll take that, Dami. It looks too heavy for you.’

‘I think maybe a little bit,’ Dami admitted, and blushed. ‘Shall I fetch another cup?’ She looked anxiously from Francesca to Bryn.

‘No, that’s fine, Dami,’ Francesca smiled. ‘Mr Macallan doesn’t want tea.’

‘I can only drink so many cups,’ Bryn groaned.

‘You would like something else?’ the maid asked.