Substitute Bride Page 8

  ‘You must have had a difficult life.’

  She looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze for fear of blushing self-consciously.

  ‘Not really,’ she said shortly. ‘Lots of people have been through far worse.’

  ‘Tell me about it. You were orphans, weren’t you?’

  ‘Close enough,’ she admitted. ‘My parents separated when I was eight and my father went off mining in Western Australia, which was the last I ever heard of him. Then my mother developed cancer and died three years later. There were no relatives, so Bea and I—’ She broke off and scowled at him. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’

  ‘Perhaps because you’ve never had anyone else to tell? I’ll admit Beatrice seems charming, but she strikes me as pretty selfish too. You must have sacrificed a lot for her.’

  For some reason the intent way that he was looking at her brought a hard lump into Laura’s throat. Nobody before had ever understood or cared how much she had given up for Bea. Nobody had even noticed her next to Bea.

  ‘I didn’t begrudge it,’ she said hoarsely. ‘She was so little when Mum—’

  Her voice broke and she couldn’t go on. To her horror she found tears prickling her eyes. She bit her lip and blinked twice, vainly trying to force them back. It would have been all right if James had attacked her or baited her—she could have coped with that. But his unexpected sympathy, coming so close upon the drama of the wedding, was more than she could bear.

  Without warning a muffled sob escaped her, and to her amazement James’s large, warm hand closed over hers. Silently he rose to his feet, hauled her upright and engulfed her in the most comforting embrace she had ever experienced. It was like being hugged by an oak tree or a mountain, some primeval force of nature that was utterly strong and safe. Laura had never felt so protected, so cherished in her entire life.

  She took an unsteady breath, luxuriating in the warmth of his touch, in the slow, regular thud of his heartbeat next to her cheek, in the powerful grip of his arms around her. Her spirits soared and an aching sense of completeness swept through her.

  Could this be the man she had thought she hated? The man she had dismissed as arrogant and self-centred? Then how could he be holding her so protectively, as if he were the still and certain centre of the universe, a fixed point in a crazy, uncertain world? How could he be so kind? Had she misjudged him? I could easily fall in love with you, James, she thought wildly and was appalled by the discovery. Her eyes flew open and she gazed up at him searchingly, craving some sign that he was as shaken and perturbed by their closeness as she was.

  But his face was unreadable. His eyes certainly held the glint of some powerful emotion, but what it was she couldn’t guess. Perhaps it was as simple as physical lust— for he did want her; she was sure of that. Something in the tension of his muscles, the set of his mouth, the uneven rhythm of his breathing made her certain of that. But was there more than just desire? An emotional craving to match his physical hunger for her? She could not be certain.

  Ashamed at her uncharacteristic display of emotion, she groped at her non-existent pockets in a vain search for a handkerchief and then found that James had pressed his into her hand. It was square and starched and unpretentious, but exactly what she needed. Sniffing convulsively, she dabbed at her eyes and made a feeble joke.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said indistinctly. ‘It’s the wedding. I always cry at weddings.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ he growled, then, laying one heavy hand on her shoulders, he led her across to the dining table, pushed her firmly into a seat and sat down beside her.

  ‘You’re going to have some tea and after that you’re going to tell me everything about yourself,’ he instructed.

  Laura had thought she wasn’t hungry after the huge meal at the reception, but when James went into the kitchen and returned with a pot of tea, she discovered she was wrong. The walnut shortbread, smoked salmon sandwiches and lemon cake looked too tempting to resist. Besides, the emotional roller coaster of the day’s events had left her in need of restoration.

  He waited until she had eaten her fill and drunk three cups of tea before he spoke again. Everything had seemed to change between them during that long silence and she was conscious of his gaze boring through her, as if he were trying to fathom what she was really like. His expression, although compassionate, was determined, and she knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d learnt everything he wanted to know about her. It was disconcerting, but unexpectedly flattering to be the object of such intent scrutiny.

  ‘Have you ever talked about your mother’s death to anyone?’ he demanded at last.

  ‘Not really. I was afraid I’d go to pieces if I did and upset Bea even more. And nobody else cared.’

  ‘I care. Tell me.’

  A spasm crossed her face and she rocked backwards and forwards, biting her upper lip. Even now that longago grief was dangerously close to the surface.

  ‘I might start crying again if I do.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I think you should talk about it.’

  She dropped her gaze and began pleating the hem of the bridesmaid’s frock between her fingers. Her words came haltingly.

  ‘Well, I feel the obvious stuff. I was really sad that she died. I missed her a lot and sometimes I even felt angry with her for leaving me. I didn’t think I could cope with what was ahead of me.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he urged. ‘What happened? I know I asked you these questions last time you were here, but I’m not sure any more what your answers meant. I don’t know whether you were talking about Bea or yourself. It’s Laura I want to know about now.’

  ‘Laura!’ she exclaimed with a gasp of mirthless laughter. ‘Boring old Laura! There’s nothing worth telling. I was fostered until I was eighteen, then I went to university and qualified as an accountant, and as soon as I had a job I persuaded the welfare department to let me look after Bea. That’s been my life ever since. My sister and my work.’

  ‘Don’t talk about yourself in that contemptuous tone. You ought to be proud of what you’ve done. I think you showed a lot of courage.’

  Laura shrugged.

  ‘Do you?’ her voice was offhand, but she couldn’t help feeling warmed by his obvious admiration.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he said. Abruptly he rose to his feet and paced across to the window. ‘What’s more, I think you deserve a good long break after all your efforts. Your hare-brained sister and my callow nephew have managed to get married in spite of any misgivings which you or I might have about their wisdom in doing so. Well, now they’re going to have to prove that they’re adults and deal with any consequences that arise themselves. What that means, Laura, is that you’re off the hook. You’ve got to stop living your life for Bea and start living it for yourself.’

  He was right, but it was something she had avoided facing until now. She made a small, dismissive move with her hands, as if it were nothing important, but there was an urgency in his voice and his eyes that demanded some comment. An insistence that she face the question of what she intended to do with her life.

  ‘I suppose so,’ she admitted at last, pulling a mocking face. ‘So what do you think I should do first? Rob a bank? Dance the can-can naked on Sydney Harbour Bridge? Go skydiving without a parachute? You know so much—you tell me!’

  He swung round and looked at her and she saw the gleam of amusement in his eyes. Amusement and something else. Something that sent a tingling current down her spine.

  ‘I think you should do something far more dangerous and disturbing than any of those things,’ he replied in a silky voice. ‘I think you should stay and spend a few weeks with me.’

  It’s a good thing Bea’s not here, thought Laura as she drifted hazily into consciousness the following morning. She’d die laughing at the way I’ve given in so easily. Worse still, she might even notice that I’ve softened towards James. Well, at least nobody else is going to know or care, and if I’m careful I can hide it from him. I d
on’t want any more embarrassing scenes, but why should there be any? The truth about our masquerade is out in the open now, and even if James was horrible to me at the wedding, he was really nice last night. So calm and reassuring…I’ll be safe with him…

  Her thoughts began to drift and she found herself sinking into sleep again, only to be confronted by the floating image of James’s sister Wendy. Wendy’s voice rang in her head, saying something about James being at his most dangerous when he seemed completely calm. Laura sprang up in bed with a startled cry.

  ‘Oh, damn it!’ she exclaimed, flinging back the covers and trudging across to peer at herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers. ‘I don’t care if he is dangerous! I’m sick of being rational and sensible anyway. Maybe it’s time I took a few more risks with my life!’

  James’s challenge the previous evening seemed to have awoken an unfamiliar recklessness inside her, but her expression in the mirror looked so impetuous that she recoiled in alarm. Drawing back the curtains, she squinted at herself critically. Was she undergoing a complete personality transformation? Was it the sort of thing that happened to women when their last child left home? In a way, she had been almost like a mother to Bea, and now Bea had left her for ever. Could she be having a mid-life crisis at the age of twenty-nine?

  ‘Well, if I am, I’m going to enjoy it,’ she announced defiantly, striking a sexy pose and leering at herself as if she were Bea modelling black lace underwear. Of course she’d need to lost about thirty pounds before she’d look good in black lace underwear, but she enjoyed the feeling of recklessness that the thought gave her. Then her old common sense descended on her like a cold, damp blanket. ‘Oh, who am I kidding? Nothing dramatic is going to happen. I’m just going to have a holiday with James. A friendly, harmless holiday!’

  All the same, she could not quite control the dizzy, bubbling feeling inside her as they ate breakfast together. James was wearing jeans and an open-necked blue shirt that revealed his muscular, suntanned chest.

  ‘Do you have anything in particular you’d like to do today?’ he asked.

  Laura shrugged.

  ‘I don’t really know where to start. What would you suggest?’

  ‘Do you ride at all? I’ve got to go down and check on some fallow deer that I keep in an enclosure at the foot of the hill. Afterwards we could go for a ride along the beach if that appeals to you.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Laura wistfully. ‘But I’ve never been on a horse in my life.’

  ‘Then it’s time you started. I’ve got a nice gentle mare I can put you on. Now, what about clothes? Have you got jeans and a sweater?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ agreed Laura, ‘Although that’s something else I’ll have to tackle before long. I’ve only brought enough clothes for two or three days. I don’t know if—’

  ‘That’s easy. I’ll take you shopping in Hobart tomorrow.’

  ‘I can’t afford—’

  ‘You don’t have to. It’s an old Tasmanian bridal custom that the uncle of the groom always buys the bridesmaid some clothes immediately after the wedding.’

  Laura choked on her orange juice. All the same, she couldn’t help admiring his barefaced effrontery.

  ‘Liar,’ she spluttered.

  ‘Well, we’ll sort it out tomorrow. Now, get changed and we’ll go riding.’

  It was a glorious day, crisp and cool and sunny, and when Laura came out to the stable she found James already busy saddling the horses. Steam was rising from their damp coats in gold wisps and their breath left frosty clouds in the air. As they stamped and snorted and jingled their bridles Laura felt a wave of exhilaration, as if she were ten years old again.

  ‘Come and I’ll show you how to check that the girth is tight enough,’ instructed James.

  Obediently she joined him on the near side of one of the horses and let him guide her fingers under the strap that encircled the creature’s warm, shaggy belly. They were standing so close together that she could feel James’s arm brushing against hers and see his frosty breath stirring the air as he spoke. An involuntary thrill of excitement went through her.

  When he hoisted her up into the saddle and adjusted the stirrup leathers for her, the excitement changed to panic. Suddenly the horse which had seemed so large when she was standing on the ground seemed a pitifully inadequate place to sit, while its motion was as daunting as the swaying and pitching of a ship. She tried to hide her misgivings as James clicked his tongue, dug his heels into his bay gelding’s flanks and glanced encouragingly over his shoulder to her.

  To her relief the mare lurched after him, and they were soon ambling down the hill towards the deer enclosure at the bottom. Here they paused and looked through the wire netting at the thirty or forty animals that were scattered around the paddock. Most were lying down or grazing peacefully, but there was a rattling noise as two young stags ran together and clashed antlers. James gave a throaty chuckle.

  ‘Testing their virility,’ he said. ‘The females will only want to mate with the one who’s the toughest and strongest and best able to protect them. That means learning to fight for what they want at a very early age.’

  Laura pondered over his blunt words as he dismounted from the horse, hitched it to a convenient sapling and disappeared into a shed near the gateway. Within moments he emerged with a couple of bales of hay which he carried effortlessly into the enclosure and began distributing it to the deer. Watching his easy, muscular grace as he undid the twine that bound the bales and scattered the golden hay, she was struck by the way he seemed in complete harmony with his environment.

  Like the animals he tended, James Fraser was earthy and primitive and in touch with his natural instincts. Perhaps it was that very quality of animal magnetism that attracted her so urgently to him. Yet if she felt that irresistible tug of excitement in his presence, wouldn’t other women experience it equally strongly? And how could she compete with all of them? If James was just like some lord of the land, gathering females around him to display his virility and status, she wanted no part of it. But was that all that he was after? A primitive thrill that was no better than an animal’s instincts? Or was he genuinely interested in her as a person?

  A cold feeling of doubt attacked her as she watched him come striding out of the deer enclosure and lock the gate behind him. She felt herself stiffening warily, as if she were trying to erect some kind of invisible barrier between them. Better not to lose her head! It was one thing to admit to herself in private that she had these strange, aching longings for James Fraser, but it would be madness to let him guess what she felt.

  Probably he had women falling for him all the time. If he knew the way her heart pounded at the mere sight of him he might find her ridiculous, or even pitiable, and that was more than she could bear. Worse still, he might decide to try and seduce her. Laura wasn’t stupid. She knew she was attractive, and she had seen the gleam of interest in James’s eyes, but if he simply used her and then discarded her the pleasure wouldn’t be worth the pain that would follow. No. She must stick to her guns and be the kind of person she had always been. Cautious. Sensible. Aloof. That way she would be safe.

  Fortunately James didn’t seem to have any dangerous designs on her, at least for the moment. As he flipped the reins over his horse’s head and swung himself adroitly into the saddle he gave her a brief, preoccupied smile.

  ‘We’ll go to the beach now,’ he promised.

  The strange motion of the horse was becoming a bit more familiar, so that Laura felt brave enough to stop staring apprehensively at the ground and actually raise her head and look around her. The experience was exhilarating. They were riding on a narrow track which led through bushland with glimpses of the sea on one side and the tranquil green fields on the other. Although there were still beads of moisture clinging like diamonds to the fence wires, the cloudless blue sky overhead and the bright sunshine gave promise of a fine day to come.

  Laura drew in deep breaths of the fresh, euca
lyptscented air and felt as if all the tensions of her old life were draining away.

  ‘This is so different from Sydney!’ she exclaimed. ‘I know we have a beautiful harbour and wonderful beaches there, but sometimes the traffic noise and the petrol fumes are unbearable. This is unbelievably peaceful.’

  James glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled with a touch of bitterness.

  ‘I’m glad you like it. Some women detest it.’

  There was so much pent-up feeling in his voice that Laura wondered uneasily whether he was referring to his ex-wife. Since she didn’t know him well enough to ask, and wasn’t the inquisitive type anyway, there seemed little she could say. All the same, she gazed thoughtfully at his broad, upright back as they continued their way along the track.

  Why had his wife left him? Hadn’t Wendy said something about it, implying that it hadn’t been James’s fault? ‘His wife Paula treated him pretty badly…’ Hadn’t that been it? But what had she done? Suddenly Laura felt a passionate urge to know, to reach out to James, to ask him, but she had the feeling that she would only meet with a sarcastic rebuff if she did.

  Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to her surroundings and was rewarded by the sight of a wattle tree in full bloom, with its golden cascades of flowers hanging in profusion over the track and scenting the air around them with a sweet, pervasive fragrance. What did it matter anyway? The best thing she could do was simply to enjoy the present and forget about everything else.

  ‘There’s the beach,’ said James, gesturing up ahead to the point where the track disappeared over a ridge. ‘Can you hear the surf?’

  Laura listened and was rewarded by the sound of thundering waves.