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‘You think you’ll be happy to live there, then?’
She flushed crimson at the unwelcome reminder that she wouldn’t be the one living there in any case. This was going to be a dangerous conversation. She would have to remember that she was supposed to be Bea, with all of Bea’s very different attitudes, although perhaps without quite so much of her sister’s flamboyance.
‘Yes, I’m sure I will,’ she said in a subdued voice.
‘You’re not going to miss the fast-track life in Sydney too much?’
Laura hung her head and paused before answering. Privately she had worried about the same thing herself. Bea was such a pleasure-loving creature, always going out to parties and discos. It had come as a complete shock when she had fallen for the silent, rugged Sam Fraser, who was more at home on the back of a horse than on a dance-floor. But Laura had no doubts about the depths of her sister’s attachment.
‘I’ll have Sam to help me.’
James’s mouth tightened.
‘Where did you meet Sam?’
‘On a country property near Tamworth. He was working as a stockman there and I…I was modelling some country clothes for a photographic shoot.’
Laura held her breath, wondering whether the truth was going to come out this very moment. Surely a single glance would be enough to convince James that she wasn’t tall enough or thin enough or young enough or gorgeous enough to be a fashion model? But James seemed to have no trouble at all in accepting her in that role. Perhaps it was because she had taken the precaution of wearing Bea’s appalling striped cardigan over her own tan knitted trouser suit. She had also left her long dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders and made up her face with far more lipstick and eyeshadow than she normally used. The whole effect made her feel like a different woman—swashbuckling, assertive and decidedly reckless. Was this how Bea felt all the time?
‘How long ago did you meet?’
‘Six months.’
‘Six months? That’s not long to decide that you want to be married.’
Laura’s eyes flashed.
‘It was long enough for me.’ She thought of Sam and tried to immerse herself in the feeling she knew Bea had for him, but it was no use. All Sam could ever be to her was a kind of pleasant younger brother. Perhaps the knowledge showed in her face, for she heard her voice waver unconvincingly. ‘I’m in love with him.’
‘Are you indeed?’ James’s eyebrows rose sceptically. ‘Well, perhaps. But love on its own seems a rather inadequate basis for a marriage.’
There was a definite sneer in his tone now, and Laura’s fighting instincts were roused.
‘I don’t agree with you,’ she snapped. ‘I think it’s the most important basis there is.’
‘And did you get that impression from your own family?’
She could feel her whole body tensing, as if she were a wounded animal readying itself for fight or flight, as the memories of her own unsatisfactory family came crowding back to her. How much had Sam told this hateful man about it? He must have told him something, surely? In vain she struggled to keep her voice steady.
‘No, I didn’t get it from my family. I don’t know how much Sam has told you, but I don’t have any family to speak of. Only a sister. Our parents were migrants and they split up when we were small. My mother died of cancer when I was el…five, and my father never came back. We spent most of our childhood in foster homes.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said curtly.
‘So am I.’
Maybe he was genuinely sorry, but to her defensive ears something in his voice sounded disdainful, as if her background was exactly what he’d expected. Not her fault, perhaps, but nothing to be proud of either. She was shocked by the blaze of rage that filled her. How dared he sit there, making these smug judgements about her…or Bea? Well, it served him right that they were making a fool of him!
Ordinarily she would have felt guilty and embarrassed about taking part in such a brazen deception, but James seemed to bring out the worst in her, revealing a side of her character that she had never dreamed existed. Reckless, defiant and totally deceitful. All the same, the old, familiar Laura was probably lurking somewhere in the background, all ready to give the game away by stammering and contradicting herself. Perhaps it was best to avoid conversation as much as possible?
Not wanting to be interrogated any further, she gave an exaggerated yawn and rubbed her left hand over her eyes.
‘Look, if you don’t mind, I might try and get some sleep; it’s been a long day.’
‘Of course. We still have a three-hour drive ahead of us, so that’s a sensible idea.’
Through the fringe of her half-closed eyelashes, Laura saw James glance at her assessingly from time to time. Yet, in spite of the way a self-conscious flush was mounting to her cheeks, she somehow managed to keep her breathing quiet and regular. Would he discover how she had tricked him? Would he be furious when he did? Somehow the prospect of seeing James Fraser absolutely wild with rage sent a tremor of sensation through her limbs that was closer to excitement than apprehension.
Would he shout and storm around the room, grab her by the shoulders and thrust his face close to hers as he demanded an explanation? She imagined how it would feel to have those tough, masculine hands seizing her urgently and that hawk-like face so close to hers that she could see the network of tiny lines around his eyes and the way his white, even teeth gritted together…
She swallowed hard and tried to remember what Sam had told her about his uncle, but it didn’t amount to much. Sam was a naturally taciturn person, and in any case Laura had not had the faintest idea that the information would ever prove important to her.
Vaguely she had the impression that Sam’s family had settled in the colony of Van Diemen’s Land in the very early days and that they had old money derived from the farming of merino sheep and the ownership of a woollen mill in Hobart. But about James himself she knew tantalisingly little. Only that he had taught Sam to ride and fish and had been an unsparing taskmaster when his nephew had worked on his property for two years as a stockman.
She couldn’t remember anything about his private life, except for a faint inkling that there had been an unhappy marriage somewhere. Or was that Sam’s other uncle on his mother’s side? If James had a friendly, sympathetic wife tucked away, it might make it easier for Bea or Laura to make a full confession. Yet for some reason the thought of James having any kind of wife, sympathetic or otherwise, sent a sharp pain like a toothache lancing through her.
Oh, Laura, you fool, she thought despairingly. You don’t even like the man, and that physical magnetism is obviously something he switches on for any woman who comes near him. Didn’t Bea say he had a reputation for seducing anything that moved? So you’re not really stupid enough to fall for him, are you? Think about Ray instead!
Dutifully she summoned up the image of Ray crouched over a computer screen, patting his thinning fair hair fussily into place and complimenting her on her spreadsheets, but it didn’t help. Ray seemed a million miles away, while this disturbing stranger was vibrantly present and impossible to ignore.
A sudden spatter of rain struck the car and she heard the swish of the windscreen wipers starting up. Deliberately she tried to lose herself in the details of the weather—the tug of the wind, the rattle of the raindrops, the hiss of the tyres on the wet road—and she was so successful that soon her pretence of dozing became real. Her eyelids fluttered, she gave a shallow sigh and slept.
She was woken by the movement of the car turning off the tarmac onto a dirt road and lurching up a hill. An involuntary cry of surprise escaped her as she realised where she was. James glanced across and spoke in a polite but distant tone, as if he were talking to a stranger rather than a new member of the family.
‘We’re nearly there now. Do you want to get out and look at the view?’
He stopped the car and she climbed out and joined him on the crest of the hill. She uttered a low gasp of admiration as she looked at the panorama spread out before them. It had stopped raining and the sea was a deep cobalt blue, which throbbed and heaved around the distant peaks of a group of islands. The sky was filled with the slanting radiance of the late afternoon sun and the breeze from the ocean brought the tang of salt, mingled with the scent of eucalyptus trees and fresh, damp earth.
‘That’s my house,’ said James.
Laura followed the line of his pointing finger and saw a substantial honey-coloured Georgian building tucked into the lee of the hillside so that it was sheltered from the fierce westerly winds. Around it a splash of vivid green colour marked the limits of the garden and beyond that were paddocks full of golden grass where sheep stood in peaceful groups. One or two even had early lambs frisking beside them.
‘It’s beautiful!’ she exclaimed.
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he replied, with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. ‘I imagine you’ll be spending a fair bit of time here if Sam has his way. He loves the land, you know. Even though he has agreed to manage the woollen mill in Hobart for me it’s likely that he’ll be up here every chance he gets, dealing with the sheep himself. Are you sure you won’t get bored?’
There was no mistaking his antagonism now. He doesn’t want me to marry his precious nephew one bit, thought Laura indignantly. Or he doesn’t want Bea to many him, which comes to the same thing. He ought to give her…me…a chance!
‘I’ll manage,’ she said coolly. ‘I can always dress up in some fancy clothes and put on a fashion parade for the sheep if I get bored, can’t I?’
He looked at her sharply, as if he were not sure whether she was joking or not. Then, with a grunt of exasperation, he led the way back to the car. They finished the rest of the journey in silence, but in spite of his unmistakable hostility James couldn’t quite overcome his instincts as a host. He carried Laura’s bag in from the car, held the door open for her as she entered the house and showed her into a bedroom which was filled with all the comforts a guest could possibly want. Fresh flowers, tissues, a carafe of water and a tin of biscuits, folded towels, a supply of brightly coloured paperbacks. Yet his voice was still curt when he spoke to her.
‘I hope you won’t mind fending for yourself for a couple of hours. I’m afraid I’ve still got to go and inspect the prize bull that I intended to look at this morning, but I shouldn’t be gone for very long. Just make yourself at home, take a bath, fix a snackwhatever you want to do. I’ll cook a proper meal when I get back.’
Left alone, Laura immediately rushed to the telephone to ring Bea, in the hope of having another consultation about her difficult position, but infuriatingly, although the phone rang and rang, Bea didn’t answer. Trying Sam’s number didn’t help either. All she got there was the answering machine and she left a very terse message on it, instructing Bea to phone her immediately.
After that, she sat down with a groan and ran her hands through her hair. How long was she going to be stranded here? Sometimes in the past airline strikes to Tasmania had gone on for weeks, although in that case the Air Force usually ran an emergency service to get sick people or desperate cases on and off the island. But however desperate Laura might feel, she didn’t think the Air Force would consider her a case for emergency evacuation! Well, that just left the overnight boat ferry. If all else failed, perhaps she could hire a car, drive to Devonport and sail back to the mainland.
That still left her with the problem of what was going to happen at the wedding. Even if Bea kept her promise and explained the whole masquerade to James, it still left them with the awkward situation of staging a wedding where the bridegroom’s uncle might well murder the bride and the chief bridesmaid. Which Laura couldn’t help feeling would cast a damper over the proceedings.
She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and shuddered. Why had she ever let Bea talk her into this? Still, there was nothing to be gained by sitting around brooding about it. She might as well accept James’s rather grudging invitation and take a look at the place.
It was certainly the kind of house to appeal to her, she decided after a leisurely tour, even if Bea would probably complain that it looked like a museum. All the rooms were graciously proportioned, with carved wooden mantelpieces, lovingly polished antique furniture and dazzling views over the ocean or the hills to the west. Even so, some discreet remodelling had taken place to supply each of the five bedrooms with its own en suite bathroom and to provide a kitchen and laundry that had a colonial look but that still concealed the most up-to-date appliances.
Realising she was hungry, Laura opened the refrigerator and found a tempting array of goodies. Smoked salmon, paté, cold meat, a variety of cheeses, vegetables, eggs, a chicken, a bowl of unshelled prawns. She was just about to take out the ingredients for a ham sandwich when a sudden thought struck her. Why not start cooking dinner herself?
With James’s disturbing presence temporarily removed, her antagonism was beginning to ebb away and she felt more like her usual self. Calm, sensible, anxious to smooth things over. Even that long, sultry, assessing look he had given her when they first met seemed more and more a product of her own fevered imagination. Probably the truth was that he was simply a conscientious uncle, worried that Sam and Bea were embarking on marriage too soon. And if that was the case, it was up to her to try and placate him.
She must do all that she could to show him that she and Bea were both mature, reliable people. And what better way than by pampering him a bit? He would be tired when he came in from inspecting the bull and it was hardly likely that he would really want to make a meal. Of course, he might feel that she was intruding, but on the other hand he had invited her to help herself to a snack. And perhaps it would even soften him up for the moment when they made their final confession. Humming to herself, she lifted out the dish of prawns…
* * *
‘That was an excellent meal,’ admitted James as he drained the last of his coffee with a sigh of satisfaction.
Laura looked at the table with a touch of complacency. Avocado filled with prawns in a seafood dressing had been followed by a stuffed roast chicken with Greek baked potatoes, zucchini and tomatoes and an apple crumble with cinnamon topping and whipped cream. James had opened a bottle of Houghton’s white burgundy and they had brewed fresh coffee to complete the meal. The conversation had gone well too, and she had seen the surprised flash of respect in his eyes when she had made a casual remark about government agricultural policy.
Although they were still fencing with each other, she thought she detected a softening in his initial antagonism towards her. And, rather reluctantly, she had to admit that she found him very interesting company.
‘Would you like some more coffee?’ she asked.
‘All right,’ he agreed, rising to his feet. ‘Why don’t you bring it into the living room? I’m going to set a match to the fire in there.’
As he spoke a sudden, sharp gust of wind set the windowpanes rattling, and a spatter of drops struck against the glass. Striding across the room, James closed the cedar shutters firmly, shutting out the gathering darkness and rain. It was a simple action and yet it made Laura feel odd—as if they were holing up together in some snug, little lair and turning their backs on the outside world. There was something alarming about the idea of drawing close to a hissing, crackling orange fire with James Fraser while a storm raged and buffeted outside.
Suddenly she became aware that he was watching her through narrowed eyes and she dropped her gaze self-consciously. Her heart raced and she no longer felt so certain that she had imagined that sensual glance he had given her earlier in the day. What if he really was wondering what it would be like to take off her clothes and lay her down on the sheepskin rug in the firelight? Bea had once told her that she had a very expressive face, but she hoped devoutly that that wasn’t true! If her face was expressing half the things she was thinking tonight, she was in big trouble…
‘I’ll get the coffee,’ she said, retreating into the kitchen.
When she came into the living room ten minutes later, James was crouched on the hearth, feeding the flames with more substantial lengths of wood. The glow from the firelight made his eyes glitter and highlighted the rugged contours of his face, making him look like some primitive caveman. Suddenly he looked up at her with an expression that made Laura’s breath catch in her throat.
No, she hadn’t imagined that silent, sensual appraisal earlier in the day, for he was doing it again now. And this time she was powerless even to turn her head away. All she could do was stare at him with her lips half parted and her shoulders tensed as if to ward off danger.
Before he went out to inspect the bull, he had changed into denim jeans and an open-necked flannel shirt which was now rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms spiked with dark hair that glowed bronze in the firelight. As he rose to his feet, still trapping her in that mesmerising gaze, she felt again that she was a waif, a stray, an outcast seeking shelter in a hostile world. And it didn’t seem at all likely that this threatening stranger was going to take pity on her.
The cup clattered in its saucer as she handed it to him.
He added sugar, stirred the coffee and drank it down without ever taking his eyes off her. Then he reached behind him and set the empty china on the mantelpiece.
‘Tell me something,’ he said harshly. ‘What’s the real truth behind all this?’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6eb5981b-f5f4-5d1b-b4d2-5297c185758a)
LAURA’S stomach gave a sickening lurch and she stared at him in alarm, momentarily diverted from her unwelcome attraction to him. Obviously he had guessed that she wasn’t Bea and now he wanted an explanation. Well, the only thing she could do was to give him one, apologise abjectly and leave as soon as possible. She only hoped that he wouldn’t take his anger out on her sister once he learnt what they had done.
‘Look, I can see you’ve realised that something is seriously wrong,’ she began awkwardly. ‘You must feel that I’m here under false pretences, but I—’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ he cut in. ‘After all, Sam is legally an adult and he has a perfect right to marry you. I also know from his telephone conversations that he’s head over heels in love with you. What worries me is what you’re hoping to get out of it, Bea.’
Bea. So he hadn’t guessed at all. Laura’s wildly beating heart slowly subsided to its normal rhythm, although she still felt shaken. She stared at James in dismay, feeling as if her brain had turned to cotton wool. What on earth was she supposed to say now?
‘There’s no need to look at me as if I’m an executioner!’ he continued impatiently. ‘It’s just that if you’re marrying Sam, I want to know more about you. And for heaven’s sake tell me the truth!’
‘What do you mean?’ blurted out Laura.
‘I mean, what do you want out of life? What motivates you? What’s your greatest need?’
Something in the urgency of his voice mesmerised her, so that she was unable to lie. A wry smile twisted her lips as she gazed into the dark tunnel of her past. Memories came crowding back to her—of the first frozen grief after her mother’s death, her dogged determination to look after Bea and not be parted from her, her decision that she would work hard and be responsible and make a future for them both. She gave a faint, mirthless whisper of laughter.
‘Security,’ she said.
She saw a brief flash of hostility in James’s eyes, but he nodded his head.
‘Well, that’s honest at all events,’ he retorted. ‘And marrying is certainly one way of getting it. But these days most girls train for a career as well, just in case Mr Wonderful doesn’t show up. Were you so certain of your charms that you didn’t feel the need to train for anything?’
Laura flinched.
‘I did!’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘I—’
She broke off, remembering too late that she was supposed to be Bea.
‘You did what, exactly?’
‘I studied horticulture for a while.’
‘So you have a diploma?’ he demanded.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I dropped out,’ she said, with a defiant lift of her chin.
‘I see. And what did you do then? Start looking round immediately for a rich husband?’
‘No!’ flared Laura, distractedly trying to remember exactly what Bea had done. There had been a period on the dole, a brief job as a croupier in a casino and a year on a working holiday, where the work had been mostly making beds in motels or waitressing in crummy cafés. Hastily she decided not to mention any of that. ‘I got a job in a dress shop and then they asked me to do some catwalk modelling and suddenly my career took off. It was just luck, really.’
‘You rely a lot on luck, don’t you?’ said James in a hard voice. ‘As far as I can see, it was also just luck that Sam fell in love with you. Are you going to depend on luck to make your marriage work too?’
His sarcasm was so burning that Laura felt shrivelled by it. For several moments she looked at him in dismay, unable to find any sensible answer. At last she dropped her gaze, unable to offer any adequate defence.
‘Why do you hate me so much?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t hate you,’ he snapped. ‘I simply think that you’re young and naïve and capable of doing a great deal of harm. What’s more, I’d like to make you think before it’s too late. You’re…how old? Twenty-three? And Sam’s twenty-four! Well, to me you seem very young, and from all I’ve heard about you you’re also very immature. I simply don’t think it’s a good idea for you to rush into marriage. In my opinion you should wait until you’re older and until you’ve known each other longer. You don’t have the experience to see the pitfalls of what you’re doing, but I do.’
‘What pitfalls?’ demanded Laura.
To her dismay he stepped forward and seized her by the shoulders. The room seemed to spin around her and for one wild moment she stood motionless, trapped by the hypnotic golden intensity of his gaze. A shameful rush of desire surged through her at his touch, so hot and raw and primitive that she was shocked by it. Try as she might, she could not shut out her unbearable awareness of his masculinity, of the heat and power and size of him as he loomed above her. His fingers bit into her flesh, making her feel soft and boneless. She took a shallow, fluttering breath and fought down an insane urge to wind her arms around his neck and lift her parted lips to his.
Darting him a panicky glance from under half closed eyelids, she saw that he was fully aware of her response to him. Not only that, but he clearly revelled in it. The amusement that curled his lips sent a hot flush of embarrassment flooding into her cheeks. Why was he doing this? Did he feel an equal measure of desire for her? Or was he simply trying to make a fool of her?
