by Margaret Way
“Get a lawyer. Sue me.” She broke off as the organist started up with a great ear-splitting fanfare that had her instinctively wrapping her ears with her hands. “God, that’s worse than a car alarm,” she muttered.
Even the cattle baron, used to stampedes, was looking aghast. “I’m tempted to go over to the balustrade and throw something.” The organist, on a roll, belted out the triumphant opening bars of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. Why, oh why, did organists have to hit the keys so hard? Pianists didn’t hit the keys like that, even at a double forte.
“One can only wonder how the soprano will compete when her time comes,” Cal observed sardonically.
“How corny can you get? Mendelssohn!” Tears sprang into Amber’s eyes.
“No time to cry,” he warned her.
“Mr Tough Guy.”
“No, I’m a softie at heart. And no point in taking it out on the composer. Poor old Mendelssohn had to work like everyone else.”
“Except your cousin,” she reminded him tightly. “She must have fallen through the cracks. So are you going to take a peek at what she looks like? The dress is said to have cost thousands and thousands. I’ve heard she’s carrying a teeny bit of excess weight.”
“And who knows how long her pre-wedding diet will last?” He glanced down at the jilted Ms Wyatt, seeing the combination of delicacy, strength and intelligence in her features. He also saw the tremendous upset. She was very lovely. Beauty could sometimes be severe. She was beautiful in a tender way. Not even an old cynic like him could view such a woman with indifference. “Now, don’t go worrying about me. I’ve been to a thousand weddings.” He took a firm hold of her hand, just in case she decided to storm the balustrade.
“Is that what made you determined to remain a bachelor? You are, aren’t you? You don’t look tamed at all.” In fact he looked as untamed as a high coasting eagle.
“I’m comfortable with it,” he told her smoothly. “If I didn’t want children, I don’t think I’d get married at all.”
“Same with me. But don’t you get lonely, way out there in the Never Never?”
“Don’t have time to be lonely,” he said.
“I spotted you right off for a hard-working man. Listen, I’m going to take a peek. No one would hear me if I yelled something impolite, with that bloody organ.” She stood up and immediately he joined her.
“Promise you’ll be good?”
“When haven’t I been good?” she muttered bitterly.
“Just make sure you don’t throw your hat.”
“Would you blame me?”
“I prefer you keep it. I love it.”
He gave her another one of his smiles. It had the most peculiar effect on her knees. And his teeth were perfect. Beautifully straight and white.
“Keep your chin up, Amber. I may call you Amber? You can’t really love a man who crawled out from under a rock.”
The bride wore white duchesse satin decorated with crystals, silver beads and thousands of seed pearls, hand-applied. The waist appeared narrow, so she had to be wearing a boned waist-cincher, which made her bosom flare out of the tight-fitting bodice. Her sheer organza veil, complete with long train, was held off her face by a diamond tiara that Amber considered pretentious. The wedding guests didn’t. They responded with a spontaneous burst of applause that seemed to go on over-long, even for a billionaire’s granddaughter. The bridesmaids—there were four—all taller and slimmer than the bride, wore strapless chiffon gowns in pastel colours with tiny flowers twisted into their faintly messy height-of-fashion hairdos. To add to the spectacle, there was an angelic little flower girl with golden curls carrying a basket brimming with rose petals that she was scattering about the aisle with joyful abandon. The women guests wearing high heels would have to be very careful when the time came for them to step back into the aisle or come a cropper.
“Where did she get the tiara?” Amber whispered. “Borrow it from the Queen?”
“The Queen doesn’t give tiaras away, except to her own. Look, why don’t you go and sit down? There’s nothing here for you but heartache.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
CHAPTER TWO
THERE was a proud smile on Sean’s face. He looked happy! Amber had a terrible image of him, cavorting naked on his wedding night, a glass of Bollinger in hand. Sean loved Bollinger. He also loved getting rid of his clothes. Amber forced herself not to make a sound, yet the Cattle Baron took her hand, his grip tight and reassuring. She rather liked the feel of those calluses. What might they be like on a woman’s body? In a mystifying way, just having him there was like being wrapped in a security blanket.
Once during the ceremony she felt faint and he put his arm around her. He smelled wonderful! And he was being so kind when he didn’t look particularly kind. He was a perfect stranger, yet somehow they had made a connection. Either that or he had reasoned that this was the best way to keep her quiet. She couldn’t lose sight of the fact that his loyalty lay with his family. Still, he was being genuinely kind. Some things you couldn’t fake.
How long was it going to go on? Quite a while more with the Bishop in the spotlight. A handsome man, he traded on the fact that he looked a bit like Prince Philip. She couldn’t have borne a long Nuptial Mass. At least the soprano sang in tune, her high notes soaring above the hellish din of the organ. The organist kept moving about on the stool. Why? Had white ants taken up residence in it? What should the soprano break into, of all things, but that old war horse “O Promise Me?”
It was the blackest of black jokes.
When had Sean first started having sex with his little bride? Amber’s mind was seized by that thought. When had he first realised the Erskine heiress was his for the taking? Not that Sean was all that terrific in bed, she found herself suddenly considering, though he had considered himself a real stud. She, on the other hand, had got around to thinking that great sex didn’t have to mean everything. Well, not absolutely everything. Sean had been such fun—good company, charming, good-humoured, though he did tend to laugh a lot at his own jokes. Then he’d messed up by being miserably unfaithful. There had been a time when she had actually considered letting him move in with her. At least she had been spared that.
When the time came for him to make his vows he spoke in a calm, strong voice that resonated around the church. A born actor. The bride’s responses were as soft and gentle as the cooing of doves. Totally dispirited, Amber slumped back against the Cattle Baron. He’d been great. Pity their paths would never, never cross again. The two of them were pressed together like co-conspirators or maybe, to the casual observer, lovers. She just bet if this guy committed to a woman he would never betray her.
The moment arrived. The Bishop began to ask that crucial question of the congregation. Surely none had the expectation of hearing a voice yell Stop! Amber felt her heart swell with anger. She had done the best she could all these past weeks. She had behaved impeccably, even when mikes had been thrust under her nose and cameras had gone off in her face, recording her instinctive flinch. She had even gone so far as to wish the couple well. But now? Didn’t despicable behaviour count against anyone any more? Had they rewritten all the rules of common decency? It wasn’t that long ago that she could have sued him for breach of promise. Surely some degree of payback was in order? Sean was lucky she was an upright citizen and not some member of a notorious crime family who boasted about giving people who offended them “cement shoes”.
Cal, who had supported the goddess all this time—no hardship whatever—felt the moment of crisis when the adrenalin started to pump through her blood. Her willowy body stirred from near swooning into action. Ms Amber Wyatt was about to cause an upheaval. The question was, what did she intend to do? Her fiery expression indicated something spectacular. Something hugely embarrassing for all concerned and shockingly inadvisable for her. She could finish up waiting tables.
Sinclair and Georgie were as good as married. Nothing could stop that, but at least he could p
revent Ms Wyatt from doing something she would live to regret.
“Come here.” He pulled her urgently to him.
Completely off balance, Amber found herself doing exactly what she was told. He was that kind of man. She couldn’t push him away. He was much too strong. She didn’t even know if she wanted to. This was the most extraordinary pseudo-embrace she had experienced in her life.
He literally crushed her to him.
God, a real man! She had a crazy notion of being ravished. Quite possibly she’d let him. If not now, at the first opportunity. Even as her mind spun out of control, he propelled her back across the loft, then, before she could recover, lowered his head and kissed her in a way that she knew with absolute certainty would leave a lasting memory. She even regressed to her teens…all those fabulous bodice-rippers she had devoured.
Her body felt sparkly all over, trembling under the influence of a battery of energising electric shocks. The pressure of that firm mouth coming down over hers, the sheer heart stopping eroticism, had her opening her soft lips like a rose opened up its petals to be drenched by the sun. The pleasure was tremendous.
Should she be craving such pleasure now? It was bizarre! It made a mockery of her engagement to Sean. This man’s tongue was locating erogenous zones inside her mouth that had her seizing his lapels. What in the world had taken possession of her? Maybe she was getting the pain and humiliation out of her system? More likely it was the sheer power of this man, the way he handled himself. Even as she clutched him, he moved her closer in.
She was receiving the full impact of his superb male body. A natural scent came off his skin—warm fine leather, sunshine, the great outdoors, just the right touch of aftershave. Both of them were behaving like lovers in the white-hot grip of passion. She had no history of such extravagant behaviour.
Did he?
One didn’t associate this unbridled behaviour with perfect strangers. It had to be something else. Both of them were playing a role. That was it! Playing it to the hilt! Either that or she had morphed into an entirely different person. Only as recent as five minutes ago, she had thought herself desperately unhappy. Now, heat was spreading through her body, into her stomach, plunging lower…
Oh, Amber, Amber, have a care!
Could shock and unhappiness derange a woman’s body as well as her brain? Did being jilted loosen a girl’s morals? Or was this a temporary state of dementia?
Whatever it was, the incandescent glow behind her eyes remained even when she was able to lift her heavy lids. She had never felt such sexual excitement with Sean. Now this tumultuous reaction with a kiss! Had it something to do with the dominant male? Had Sean been a subordinate male? She would have to give that a lot of thought. But it would have to be later on, when she was safely on her own.
“Well, it didn’t take us long to make friends,” he remarked with breathtaking coolness.
The tricky part was to find her voice. “Is that what it was? I thought it was more a spur of the moment bid to shut me up.”
“And there’s no doubt it worked! Further, Ms Wyatt, it was an absolute pleasure.”
“You could have shown a bit more restraint.” She put a trembling hand to her mussed hair.
“Don’t be picky. You were going for broke. Anyway, don’t let’s worry about it. Look, your beautiful hat has floated off.” It was now wedged in a cool dark corner, the petals of the pink and cream silk roses softly gleaming. He moved in what seemed like slow motion to pick it up, brushing off a speck of dust before restoring it to her. Amber, never short of a word, couldn’t even utter thank you. Her heart was pounding hard and fast. Her legs were weak. Had there been a smoke alarm in the loft, she was sure it would have gone off. What did it all mean?
Cal found himself stretching out a hand to smooth her glowing hair. It was in disarray and such an indescribable shade! Tone on tone, from golden through to dark copper with glossy strands of apricot and Titian woven through. She wore it pulled back into a lustrous updated chignon—appropriate, he supposed, when wearing a picture hat like that.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, when he clearly wasn’t. “But it seemed like a good idea at the time. I had to stop you. Whatever you had in mind, you would only have regretted later.”
“Is that an apology?”
“Could be.” His laugh was slightly off-key. “Maybe we can discuss it more fully over dinner?”
She drew back, astonished. “Wh-a-a-t?”
“Not a trick question. Let me break it down. Are—you—free—for—dinner?”
“Are you serious?” Her beautiful golden eyes grew huge.
“Of course I am.” He smiled at her confusion. “We can relax now. It’s all over.”
“So it is.” Amber exhaled a deep sigh. “So what do we do now?”
“Well, I’m up for anything,” he mocked. “We could continue kissing until you can’t remember you ever had a fiancé?”
“Who is now married to your cousin. Thank you, but no, Mr MacFarlane. I don’t think you could top the first kiss anyway.”
“Well, I’d like to give it a shot,” he returned smoothly. “You’re not still looking for a husband, are you?”
She met the sparkling ironic gaze that was fairly centred on her. “I could very well remain married to a career. I may have climbed the ladder in television, but actually I want to be a writer. You know, another Colleen McCullough. Love her.”
“Another Thorn Birds?”
“I wish! But I can write.”
“You might have to make a start after today,” he suggested dryly. He may have prevented Ms Wyatt from causing further disturbance and bringing down the full force of Rosemary’s wrath on her beautiful head, but a lot of people had marked her imprudent attendance. Cal had a hollow feeling that there could be unpleasant repercussions for Ms Amber Wyatt. They were a vengeful lot, the Erskines.
“Is that a warning?”
“I’m putting you on your guard.” He looked serious.
“I see. Your dear aunt was giving me the evil eye.”
“Aunt by marriage,” he corrected.
“Well, she does lack your style. I take it one wouldn’t want to cross her.”
“Believe me, when Rosemary is crossed, heads roll.”
“That’s the downside of having too much money,” Amber murmured caustically. “I can’t imagine her getting the better of you.”
“Well, I do have the advantage of living well over a thousand miles away. But don’t worry, Ms Wyatt, I’m going to put in a good word for you.”
“Why, exactly?” She stared up at him. It was, she found, a very pleasant sensation. He made her feel almost petite.
“I was engaged once,” he remarked, offhandedly. “I didn’t exactly catch my fiancée in the arms of her stop-gap lover, but a good friend of mine happened to bump into them when they were taking a little holiday together in Bangkok. That’s classified information, by the way.”
“My lips are sealed.” Amber made a little sealing gesture with her pearl-tipped fingers, astonished by his admission. “How could she possibly have preferred the other guy to you?”
His laugh was off-key. “Thanks for that little vote of confidence, Ms Wyatt. You would have to understand my ex-fiancée. Sexual encounters on the side she didn’t regard as meaningful.”
“But it was the end of the engagement for you?”
“Most definitely, though she tells it differently. That, again, is between the two of us, okay?”
She nodded. “Mr MacFarlane, I am to be trusted. Besides, I owe you one. So what now?”
He looked down into the fast emptying church. “You stay here until the church clears. I have to join the family—stick around until the happy couple embark on their wedded bliss.”
“They’ve already done that,” Amber said tartly. “Don’t be surprised if Sean takes it into his head to run off with one of the bridesmaids.” She settled her lovely picture hat back on her head, looking at him to check the angle. “Have I g
ot it right?”
“Perfect! No woman could look more ravishing. Now, you can follow when the coast is clear. Everyone will be focused on getting to the reception. You should be able to make your escape.”
“I didn’t come here to make a spectacle of myself, you know.” Suddenly she wanted to explain herself to him. She didn’t want him to think badly of her. “Or disrupt the service, as you seemed to think. Sean really deserved it, but that wasn’t my intention. That would have been cruel and I’m not a cruel person. The plan was to calmly walk out when the Bishop called for any objections—you know the bit—but I just felt so angry I momentarily lost control.”
“You’re free of him now.”
“So I am.” She couldn’t conceal the bitterness and the pain.
“So what about dinner?” He repeated the invitation bracingly, as if dinner would be a form of therapy. “Are you up for it? I think it might do you a lot of good to be seen out on the town enjoying yourself. Or making a good show of it.”
She felt a moment of turmoil, not knowing if it was a good or a bad thing. Was it possible she was getting into very deep water? Being with Sean, it had only come up to her ankles, she now realised. “Why are you being so kind?”
“I’m not being kind. Not at all.” He cast a quick look at the near-empty pews. “I just don’t feel ready to say goodbye to you, Ms Wyatt. That’s all. I fly home in a few days.”
“In your own little Airbus?” She lifted her high arching brows. “It’s so nice to be rich.”
“I assure you it’s quite an effort holding on to it. However, where I come from, having your own plane is a necessity, not a rich man’s toy. I have a couple of helicopters as well.”
“I’m terrified of those,” she said. “I was involved in a scare in the TV station’s chopper some months ago. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be attending the reception? It will go on for hours and hours.”
