“I’m delighted to meet you, Andrea,” Toni responded, wondering if what Andrea heard had been good. Andrea wasn’t Byrne’s type, but she seemed cool-headed enough to qualify and a strong contender in the social context.
While they stood chatting, Sonia, who had been having a few words with the housekeeper, hurried into the room. “Why don’t we start lunch?” she suggested, smiling at everyone.
“You’re going to sit beside me.” Joel reappeared like magic at Toni’s side.
“We have our allotted places, Joel,” Byrne informed him mildly. “Surely you’re going to sit beside Fern?”
“Hell, Byrne, I haven’t seen Toni in years. You’re not going to pressure me, are you?” Joel complained.
“Absolutely. Fern is looking a little lost. Go to her.”
It was a pleasant lunch. Sonia as hostess was most gracious. But Toni couldn’t throw off the sensation of being under review. Tara in particular seemed to want to lay a guilt trip on her. Joel, however, was in high spirits, his happy talk and enthusiasm infectious, causing Toni to burst out laughing on several occasions. It was obvious he was putting on a show for her even if her effect on him wasn’t endearing her to certain people at the table. If Joel was trying to be the life and soul of the party it was Byrne to whom everyone turned like sunflowers to the sun. All the men were wearing polo gear. Byrne’s team featured a navy polo shirt with distinctive lightning-bolt flashes in red and white. The opposing team wore dark green shirts with a vertical yellow stripe to one side. Every one of them to a man was tall, vigorous, physically attractive, but none had Byrne’s extraordinary aura. It seemed to Toni he looked incredibly glamorous, his luminous gray eyes startling against his bronze skin and ink black hair. Catching Andrea’s unguarded expression, Toni realised she wasn’t the only one to think so. Andrea’s green eyes shone brightly, fiercely, with a kind of raw hunger. Then she realised she was being observed and the shutters came down.
So now I know, Toni thought. Andrea is out to make a brilliant marriage. Who can blame her?
Andrea smiled and transferred her attention to Toni. “Do you intend going back to France, Toni?” she asked, her voice friendly, but a keen alertness in her eyes.
“We’re going to do everything in our power to keep her here,” Cate called. “Kerry loves having her here, and. I’ve always wanted a sister.”
“You have us.” Tara looked at her cousin with more than a hint of offense.
“Of course . I have, but you know what I mean.” Confident, Cate flushed slightly.
“I haven’t decided as yet, Andrea,” Toni said. “My mother is expecting me back.” As she spoke she glanced at Byrne, handsome, graceful, relaxed, leaning back in his chair.
“And Zoe usually gets what she wants,” he pointed out gently.
An hour and a half later they were assembled at the playing field, one of two polo fields on the station. The men were all competing. The women sought the shade of the stand that had been erected at one end of the field. Dotted around the field were station employees, anyone who had the afternoon free with wives and small children. Everyone was an avid fan of the game, and although it was a private match, with top-class players they knew they were in for an afternoon of excitement and drama. Sonia wasn’t present, saying she had much to do, so the young women were left to become better acquainted.
“Sit beside me, Toni,” Cate invited. She was a little unhappy with Tara’s attitude, which was a mite too abrasive. Toni Streeton was hardly a stranger. She was Kerry’s sister, chief bridesmaid and a guest in the house. All the bridesmaids had to get on. Nothing, absolutely nothing was going to spoil her wedding, Cate decided, though she wasn’t surprised at the stance her cousins, both acutely aware of their social position, had taken. They had opposed Toni’s being bridesmaid, after all.
“She didn’t even come home for her father’s funeral. Really!” Cate could still hear Tara’s voice in her ears. “What on earth are we supposed to think of her? As for that dreadful, dreadful mother and her tatty life—”
“She’s Kerry’s mother, too, Tara, might I remind you?” Cate had answered directly, as was her way.
“But he’s nothing like her. He’s a Streeton through and through.”
If Byrne hadn’t backed her, which in the end settled it, Toni would not have made the wedding party, Cate thought, drawing her large straw hat down against the shimmering light.
Byrne’s team won the first half at a canter, four to one. Joel, playing to the gallery, almost came a cropper a couple of times until his brother and captain called something that brought him back in control. Before the second half Andrea excused herself then rushed to where Byrne was changing his shirt. It was almost too embar rassing to watch. This marvellous man with his wonderfully fit and taut torso, the bronze skin lightly matted with dark hair, his smile a white flare as Andrea said something to him that made him laugh. Toni took a quick, deep breath, and Cate tipped her a wink.
“Gorgeous, isn’t he? My own brother.”
“Andrea feels the same.”
“She’s mad about him,” Cate confided. “Out of nothing, really. Byrne’s so darned self-contained. She was mad about him from the day she met him. You know how Byrne is. I can’t count the number of women who’ve been in love with him, but Byrne makes promises to no one.”
“Maybe he’s too busy running a cattle empire,” Toni said a little dryly.
“Well, we can’t forget that, and the chain isn’t all of it, as you know, but we all want Byrne to marry. He once told me the best way to seduce a woman is to be rich. Do you think that’s true?”
Toni considered. “Perhaps a bit cynical. Certainly plenty of women look to financial security. A position in life. All I know is I could never marry without love.”
“It’s a great start.” Cate laughed. “Kerry and I began all those years ago as best friends. We’re best friends to this day. It took a little time for us to wake up to the fact that we wanted to be man and wife.”
“And I’m so happy for you, Cate.” Toni’s violet eyes shone with sincerity. “I know your marriage is going to last forever. Divorce is so terrible.”
Something told Cate Toni had had a bad time of it those years with her mother.
The second half got under way, and Andrea returned, a glitter of excitement lending colour to her face. “Byrne says they’re making it too easy.”
“Maybe they’ll come storming back,” Toni said, not really believing it.
Byrne’s team was on a roll. Finally, the captain of the opposing team, James Patterson, previously intimidated by his brilliant opposite number, hit a long drive that went straight between the goal posts.
On the field Byrne saluted him, grateful for stronger competition. Things picked up after that. Joel, still showing off, chased everything, thundering in and shouldering his opposite number’s pony off the ball. Inevitably, as the spectators feared, his stick tangled with another player’s and wound up between his pony’s front legs before he cartwheeled out of the saddle.
Fern jumped to her feet, her hands over her mouth smothering her cry, but Joel was back in the saddle in a flash. The final chukker was the best of the match, although Toni had the impression Byrne was letting the other team get away with a few points. He didn’t, however, intend that they should win. At the crucial moment he slammed a magnificent long drive that soared through the air and through the opposing team’s goal dead centre.
The perfect strike.
The bell rang.
It was over.
“Isn’t Byrne a superb player?” Andrea clapped her hands vigorously. “Congratulations. Well done.” A cry from the heart that wasn’t lost on anyone.
In the afternoon, while most of the others sought the swimming pool, Toni decided to go riding. She was wearing a brief two-piece swimsuit beneath her shirt and jeans in case she felt like taking a quick dip in one of the lagoons. She would have to wash her hair again, but she didn’t care. It was wonderful in the saddle, b
reathing in the uncontaminated air, no pollution of any kind. She had only been home a few days after a break of nearly five years, yet it felt like she had never been away. Much as she had loved France and the other European cities she had visited, she had always felt an expatriate, someone away from home, that one place that haunted her heart. The desert wind sang to her. She loved the vast wilderness, the spinifex and mulga plains, the towering pyramids of red sand, the fantastic interlocking river system of billabongs, lagoons and creeks that made the huge riverine desert a prize beef-fattening region, a grazier’s dream after rain. Before she had gone away the state had been racked by drought, but good rains had been recorded in the past year with the promise of more rain for the tropical north’s wet season. It was these northern floodwaters that fed the channel country. Not one drop of rain had to fall locally for thousands of square miles to be irrigated. The rivers spread for miles, running fifty miles across in time of flood, yet only on rare occasions did the floodwaters reach the southernmost reaches, emptying into Lake Eyre, the lowest and driest part of the continent and paradoxically one of the largest inland drainage basins in the world, covering over a million square kilometers. Only twice in the century had Lake Eyre filled with water, first in 1950, then again in 1974, the greatest inundation in five hundred years. The aboriginal tribes of the territory feared the lake they called Katitanda and the dreadful snake that lived beneath the rippling white salt. They never went near it, with its incongruous arctic appearance of pack ice and endless snowfields, the extraordinary crystal formations that resembled ice flowerets and seashells. Byrne’s father had flown scores of friends, including Toni’s father, over the vast inland sea of 1974 so they could witness the great inundation. At such times there was lots of talk of harnessing the monsoonal rains of northern Queensland and diverting the waters by pipeline to the arid centre, but the monumental project had never been undertaken. She and Kerry had once camped at Lake Eyre with their father, setting up their tent on the white shores of the fabled inland sea. Once palms and cycads had grown there. The water had been fresh and blue. But that was long, long ago.
By the time she reached White Lady Lagoon, encrusted with splendid white water lilies, she was feeling the heat and ready for a swim. She left the gelding to enjoy the shade of a fine stand of coolabah trees, which grew only around the watercourses. She walked across the morning glory that draped itself all over the slopes in a haze of blue violet. She stepped out of her clothes, folded them neatly, then loosely braiding her hair she walked across the sandy white soil to the water. It looked so inviting, a vivid emerald green jewel-like in its clarity. She waded in to test the depth, her skin pleasantly tingling from the coldness of the water. The lagoon, which ran over a mile in length, had always been called the White Lady, just as other lagoons on this and other stations, including Nowra, were named for the colours of the beautiful water lilies that covered every billabong, creek and pond. Red, blue, creamy yellow and pink. Nature had bestowed a fantastic variety of wildflowers and water lilies all over the desert plains and watercourses. All it took for these ancient arid lands to bloom was water, and not particularly much of it. A passing shower would scatter the area with floral gems.
Toni, a strong swimmer from childhood, swam to the middle of the lagoon and looked toward the banks. The emu apples were bearing, their fernlike branches hung with the small round fruit the emus loved so much. Such a beautiful spot, she thought. Filled with strong magic. Her hair had slipped out of its braid, so she raised her hands to press its silky wetness from her face. When she lifted her eyes again, a shadowy figure was making its way through the trees, heading down the slope into the full radiance of sunlight.
Joel. Much as she liked. him, she would have preferred to be on her own.
“Hi!” he called breezily, raising a hand in greeting. “I thought I’d find you here.” The next minute he stripped down to a pair of swimming briefs, tossed his clothes aside and without another word hurled himself into the water, striking out for her with a powerful crawl. A moment later he was beside her, lifting his water-slicked head. “I couldn’t resist coming after you. Marvellous, isn’t it? You really know you’re alive.” He began to swim again, circling her slowly like a friendly dolphin. “I don’t think I’ve had you to myself for fully five minutes since you arrived.”
Something had to be settled right there. “Listen, Joel.” Toni trod water, looking around vaguely. She expected any moment to see Byrne stalking toward them eyes like ice. “Isn’t Fern your girlfriend?”
Joel’s good-looking face suddenly wore a frown. “Sure, but I’ve got lots of girlfriends.”
“Let’s concentrate on Fern,” Toni said. “I don’t want you to forget about her.”
He swam close. “Difficult with you here. You’ve returned like a swan. Come to think of it, that’s the motif for the wedding. Two swans. They only mate once, as you know. Mamma’s using that little mating ritual, the way they bend their necks to form a heart, for a lot of the decorations.”
“How lovely!” Toni was diverted. She half shut her eyes, her face dreamy . “I can picture it clearly. Two beautiful white swans. A pity she couldn’t have used our Australian black swans. They have white underfeathers, and red beaks but I suppose white is more appropriate for a wedding.”
Joel groaned and shook the water from his hair. “The wedding! In a way I’ll be glad when it’s over. It’s all that gets talked about. Even Fern has started to talk engagement. She’s never done that before. All this wedding business has set her off.”
“So I read the situation correctly.” Toni looked up as a flight of corellas came to cloak the coolabahs in white. “You understand why I don’t want to cause trouble? There were those who were against my coming back. You spoke of disagreements before. Who exactly voted for me to be bridesmaid?”
Put on the spot, Joel looked embarrassed. “Cate wanted you, of course.”
“Not your mother?”
“Take it easy, Toni. That’s not fair. Of course, Mamma. The big problem was...” He hesitated.
“Zoe?”
“Byrne wanted you,” Joel said, realising she was upset. “I did, too, of course, but Byrne has the casting vote on everything.”
“I would have thought it was up to Cate and Kerry to make all the decisions.” Toni’s lotus eyes flared.
“Don’t be angry, Toni. You wanted to hear.” Then suddenly, because he didn’t welcome problems, he said, “Race you to the shore.”
“Fine. I can beat you anytime.”
Of course she didn’t. It was impossible to beat such a strong male swimmer, but she made a creditable effort.
Joel rose from the water, turned and lifted her into the air. “Don’t I get a kiss for winning?”
“What do you think?” Toni looked into those seemingly innocent blue eyes. “Joel, put me down.”
“You’re a featherweight! Is that a yes?”
“All right, on the cheek, as I’m to be a member of the family.”
“And it’s wonderful,” he said. He tilted her chin, surrendering eagerly, impulsively, to the pressing urge to drop a kiss on her lovely mouth, only at the last minute she turned her head.
“I mean what I say, Joel.” Gently she pulled free.
“That’s interesting. So do I.” He couldn’t stop himself from looking at her now that she was clear of the water. Her body was beautiful, nymphlike, delicate and feminine. Her breasts were small but delicious, her waist tiny, her hips narrow, her legs long, lovely and straight. He couldn’t say why, exactly, but a vision of Fern in a swimsuit swam into his mind. Fern’s compact body was almost boyish in comparison. Toni made him think of making the most wonderful love.
“Are you going to stop staring?”
His grin flashed. “I thought I was being subtle.”
“No way! Don’t you think we should get back?”
“What’s the hurry?”
“I don’t want any trouble, Joel. I suggest you finish with one girlfrien
d before you start with the next.”
“You’re worried about Fern, aren’t you?” he called as she waded onto the sand.
“I told you. I don’t enjoy hurting people. I’m worried about Byrne, as well. I’m only here for a month. I don’t want to make waves.”
“That must present a problem,” a deep voice called sardonically from a little distance to their left.
They both turned abruptly, staring toward the shroud of trees. A heartbeat’s pause, then Joel responded. “I might have known it would be you, Byrne.”
“Oh, well,” Byrne drawled, coming into view. “I don’t particularly like having to hare after you, but Fern is distressed!”
Toni’s colour rose at the implication. “I’ve got nothing to do with that.” She walked quickly to her things. “Absolutely nothing.”
“I realise that, Antoinette.” Byrne took a moment to reach them, tolerance in his gray eyes. “We’re dealing with Joel here. It’s a little bit rough, isn’t it, Joel, leaving Fern on her own?”
“Maybe, but she’s not my wife,” Joel protested, put out because he’d been having a wonderful time.
“I agree, but she feels quite rightly you owe her a little more courtesy.”
“Oh, hell, can’t she enjoy herself with the girls?”
“She didn’t have much choice. You took off so abruptly. I’ll admit it saved me a lot of time figuring out where you were heading. It might be an idea, though, if you headed back.”
Joel looked shamefaced. “Okay, okay. I get the message. So what in the hell am I supposed to do, marry her?”
Byrne’s smile was ironic. “No one is suggesting that, but don’t run out on her, either. She’s done nicely for a year.”
“I don’t like to be put on a leash,” Joel muttered.
“The advantage of being male,” Toni said, towelling herself off furiously. “I’ve never met one of you who didn’t want to do what they damned well liked.”
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