Outback Wives Wanted!. Margaret Way

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СКАЧАТЬ is the most fortunate. Most of it has rubbed off on Violette, for which I pity her. Now, why don’t we go and grab a cup off coffee?”

      “I don’t want one,” she said mutinously, unaware that the sparkle in her eyes and the colour in her cheeks made her look extraordinarily beautiful.

      “Okay—a stiff drink. Don’t argue. I want one, even if you don’t. You can’t do anything about your mother’s family, Alana. Don’t even try.”

      “Why do you just pick up and then drop Violette?” she accused him. “You sound on side with her, yet she’s so horrible. Could it be you’re only interested in her body?”

      He glanced down at her rebellious face. “I’ll forget you said that, because you’re so upset. Here—this will do.” He drew her off the pavement into the foyer of one of the city’s leading hotels.

      “Why don’t we check in while we’re at it?” she suggested, putting her hand out to catch his arm. “Kieran has a mystery woman. I’m going to get myself a mystery man.”

      “Well, that lets me out,” Guy said evenly.” I’ve known you all your life.”

      In the handsomely appointed lounge, Alana sank into a comfortable chair. Only a few tables were occupied. Smiles and quiet conversation. It would be another hour before the regulars and the after-work crowd arrived.

      “What will it be?” Guy remained standing, his face showing its own brooding tension.

      If anything, it only made him look even sexier, she thought, feeling angry, nervy and very, very physical. No one brought it out in her like this man.

      “Perhaps it’s time I took to the whisky?” she said.

      “Let’s settle for a gin and tonic—or a glass of white wine?”

      “It really ought to be champagne. For you, anyway. Congratulations, Guy.” She lifted her hazel eyes to him, angry, unshed tears making them diamond-bright. “Kieran and I were waiting behind to tell you that when my awful, awful, malevolent relatives walked into us. I have to say it was by mistake. I think they were discussing what was happening tonight.”

      “It definitely wasn’t happening with me,” Guy said. “Just try to relax. You’ve got enough burdens without taking your relatives on board. I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked away to the bar, with every female eye in the vicinity tracking him. A woman would have to be blind to miss him.

      An animal lover, Alana always saw her brother as a golden lion and Guy as a sleek black panther. And where was Kieran going, so completely and utterly furious? It had been blindingly obvious. Of course he had a woman in Sydney. He was a virile young man. Sydney was little over a two hour drive from the Valley. The big hurt was that he hadn’t confided in her. She tried to accept that, but the hurt gnawed deep at her. Why hadn’t he told her about something so important? He told her just about everything else. Was it possible the mystery woman was married? Oh, that was so risky. She would be beautiful, of course. The artist in Kieran would be drawn like a magnet to a beautiful woman. But she couldn’t be more beautiful than Alexandra Radcliffe. Alex was really and truly a classic beauty. Although Alex and Kieran operated on different planes.

      Guy returned empty handed. “What about my G&T?” she asked in surprise. “Not even a bowl of nuts or a packet of potato chips?” She tried to fight her edginess with banter.

      He sat down in the chair nearest her. “There you go again! I’ve ordered a bottle of champagne.”

      “Good heavens! Isn’t that a dumb thing to do? I’m just so angry and despondent I might get drunk.”

      “I won’t let that happen.” He very gently patted her hand, his dark eyes glinting. “You had a good lunch, didn’t you?’

      “Not as good as yours, I bet.” It was usual for the pastoral houses to take the big wool producers to lunch on sales day. “Oh, God, what a day!” she lamented. “We’re going to lose Briar’s Ridge, Guy. We needed good sales. We’re drowning in debt—as if you didn’t know.”

      “Something can be worked out,” Guy said.

      She looked at him with a sharp sense of humiliation. “You’ve been propping us up, haven’t you? I feel it in my bones.”

      “You didn’t want me to try and save you?” He studied her face intently.

      She glanced away. Wherever his eyes touched her she felt little jolts of electricity. Even when he took his dark eyes from her, she still felt the after-shocks. “I’d much prefer it if we saved ourselves,” she said, in an agony of helplessness, hopelessness—and, it had to be admitted, burning resentment.

      “Well, let it go for the moment,” Guy advised. “You’re right on the edge. So, for that matter, am I.”

      “Never! Not Guy Radcliffe?”

      “You don’t even know me.”

      “Yes, well, I know as much as is safe to know. Ah—here comes the champagne.”

      “Two glasses and I’ll take you back to your hotel. I’d like you to have dinner with me tonight.”

      Her heart almost leapt into her mouth. “You can’t be serious? I expect Uncle Charles and Vi will have muscled in?”

      “I had the pleasure of Charles and your cousins at lunch.”

      “If I didn’t know better I’d say you found ‘the pleasure’ quite an ordeal. Has Uncle Charles ever turned the conversation to wedding bells?”

      “Nothing so alarming.” A waiter, who bore more than a passing resemblance to a well known English comic, arrived with the bottle of champagne, presenting it for Guy’s inspection like a character in a skit. After a quick glance, Guy nodded.

      “Surely you’ve sown your wild oats by now?” Alana asked, after the waiter had waltzed his way back through the tables. Was it possible the comedian really was in town and there was a hidden camera?

      “Dinner for two,” Guy said, watching the waiter’s comic progress himself. “Just you and me. I’d much rather listen to you—even if you do like to cross swords.” He lifted his glass. Their flutes clinked. “Loosen up, Alana. There are always some compensations available.”

      She took a quick sip. It was delicious. “Believe me, I want to. But I can’t. I’d love to have dinner with you, Guy—not that I’ve got anything halfway decent to wear—but I suddenly feel I’m wanted at home.” She spoke with such urgency she might actually have received a phone call. “Kieran did ring Dad to let him know how things went. Dad’s been good for weeks, but I fear he won’t be able to handle this. He’ll start drinking again.” She sought understanding in his eyes. “You couldn’t possibly drive me back tonight, could you?” She was so nervous her tongue seemed to be cleaving to the roof of her mouth. “I understand perfectly if you can’t. You probably have commitments. Not to mention breakfast with Violette,” she added, even though she recognised it was foolish.

      “Is this the right way to go about asking me?” He looked steadily back.

      “I guess not. But I’m nervous. It’s difficult not to be nervous around you.”

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