Marriage is their mission!

From bad boys to powerful, passionate protectors! Three tycoons from the Outback rescue their brides-to-be…

Meet Ric, Mitch and Johnny—once rebellious teenagers, they survived the Outback to become best friends and formidable tycoons. Now these sexy city slickers must return to the Outback to face a new challenge: claiming their brides….

•The Outback Marriage Ransom (#2391)

•The Outback Wedding Takeover (#2403)

•The Outback Bridal Rescue (#2427)

Emma Darcy is the award-winning Australian author of over eighty novels for Harlequin®. Her intensely emotional stories have gripped readers around the world. She’s sold nearly 60 million copies of her books worldwide and has won enthusiastic praise.

“Emma Darcy delivers a spicy love story…a fiery conflict and a hot sensuality.”

—Romantic Times

Dear Reader,

To me, there has always been something immensely intriguing about bad boys who’ve made good. With every possible disadvantage in their background, what was it that lifted them beyond it, that gave them the driving force to achieve, to soar to the heights of their chosen fields, becoming much more than survivors…shining stars?

In OUTBACK KNIGHTS, I’ve explored the lives of three city boys who ended up in juvenile court and were sent to an Outback sheep station to work through their sentences. There, at Gundamurra, isolated from the influences that had overwhelmed them in the past, and under the supervision and caring of a shrewd mentor, Patrick Maguire, the boys’ lives become set on different paths as they learn how their individual strengths—their passions—can be used constructively instead of destructively.

But the big unanswered need is love. Even at the top it’s lonely.

And it seemed to me beautifully fitting that as these boys had been rescued, so should they—as men—rescue the women who will give them love. I think there are times when all of us want to be rescued—to be cared for, protected, understood, made to feel safe. It’s not that we can’t manage independently, but oh, for a knight in shining armor who will fight and slay our dragons with a passionate intensity that makes us melt! Here they are—Ric Donato, Mitch Tyler and Johnny Ellis: Outback knights! And here, too, are the women who rescue them from loneliness.

With love,

The Outback Marriage Ransom
Emma Darcy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

PROLOGUE

First day at Gundamurra

THE plane was heading down to a red dirt airstrip. Apart from the cluster of buildings that marked the sheep station of Gundamurra, there was no other habitation in sight between here and the horizon—a huge empty landscape dotted with scrubby trees. Ric wished he still had the camera he’d stolen. He could take some unbelievable shots here.

‘The middle of nowhere,’ Mitch Tyler muttered. ‘I’m beginning to think I made the wrong choice.’

‘Nah,’ Johnny Ellis drawled. ‘Anything’s better than being locked up. At least we can breathe out here.’

‘What? Dust?’ Mitch mocked.

The plane landed, kicking up a cloud of it.

‘Welcome to the great Australian Outback,’ the cop escorting them said derisively. ‘And just remember…if you three city smart-arses want to survive, there’s nowhere to run.’

All three of them ignored him. They were sixteen. Regardless of what life threw at them, they were going to survive. And Johnny had it right, Ric thought. Six months working on a sheep station, had to be better than a year in a juvenile jail. Ric, for one, couldn’t stand overbearing authority. He hoped the guy who ran this place wasn’t some kind of tyrant, getting off on having three slaves to do his bidding.

What had the judge said at the sentencing? Something about getting back to ground values. A program that would teach them what real life was about. In other words, you worked to live, not skim off other people. Easy for him to say, sitting behind his bench in a cushy chair, safe with his silver-tailed government income.

There was no security in Ric’s world.

Never had been.

Thieving what you wanted was the only way to get it. And there was a lot Ric wanted. Though stealing the Porsche to impress Lara Seymour had been stupid. He’d lost her now. That was certain. A girl with her privileged background wouldn’t even consider a convicted criminal for a boyfriend.

The plane taxied back to where a guy was waiting beside a four-wheel drive Cherokee. Big guy—broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, craggy weathered face, iron-grey hair. Had to be over fifty but still looking tough and formidable. Not someone to buck in a hurry, Ric decided, though size didn’t automatically command his respect. If the guy laid a hand on him…

‘John Wayne rides again,’ Mitch muttered in the mocking tone he habitually used. Sour on the whole world was Mitch. Could become a real drag, living with him at close quarters.

‘No horse,’ Johnny remarked with a grin.

He was going to be much easier to get on with, Ric thought.

Johnny Ellis had probably cultivated an affable manner as his stock-in-trade, as well as a protective shield, though he was big enough and strong enough to match anyone in a punch-up. He had friendly hazel eyes, a ready grin, and sun-streaked brown hair that tended to flop over his forehead. He’d been caught dealing in marijuana, though he swore it was only to musicians who’d get it from someone else anyway.

Mitch Tyler was a very different kettle of fish, charged with a serious assault on a guy who, he claimed, had date-raped his sister. Though he hadn’t put that defence forward in court. Didn’t want his sister dragged into it. He was lean and mean, dark hair, biting blue eyes, and Ric had the sense that violence was simmering under his surface all the time.

Ric, himself, was darker still in colouring. Typical Italian heritage. Black curly hair, almost black eyes, olive skin, with the kind of Latin good looks that attracted the girls. Any girl he wanted. Even Lara. But looks weren’t enough in the long run. He had to have money. And all the things money could buy. It was the only way to beat the class difference.

The plane came to a halt.

The cop told them to get their duffle bags from under the back seats. A few minutes later he was leading them out to a way of life which was far, far removed from anything the three of them had known before.

The initial introduction had Ric instantly tensing up.

‘Here are your boys, Mister Maguire. Straight off the city streets for you to whip into shape.’

The big old guy—and he sure was big close up—gave the cop a steely look. ‘That’s not how we do things out here.’ The words were softly spoken but they carried a confident authority that scorned any need for physical abuse.

He nodded to them, offering a measure of respect. ‘I’m Patrick Maguire. Welcome to Gundamurra. In the Aboriginal language, that means “Good day.” I hope you will all eventually feel it was a good day when you first set foot on my place.’

Ric found himself willing to give it a chance.

Fighting it wasn’t going to do him any good anyway.

‘And you are…?’ Patrick Maguire held out a massive hand to Mitch who looked suspiciously at it as though it were a bone-cruncher.

‘Mitch Tyler,’ he answered, thrusting his own hand out in defiant challenge.

‘Good to meet you, Mitch.’

A normal handshake, no attempt to dominate.

Johnny’s hand came out with no hesitation. ‘Johnny Ellis. Good to meet you, Mister Maguire.’ Big smile to the old man, pouring out the charm. Getting onside fast was Johnny.

A weighing look in the steely grey gaze, plus a hint of amusement. No one’s fool this, Ric thought, as he himself was targeted by eyes that had probably seen through all the facades people put up.

‘Ric Donato,’ he said, taking the offered hand, feeling the strength in it, and oddly enough a warmth that took away some of the sense of alienation that was deep in Ric’s bones.

‘Ready to go?’ the old man asked.

‘Yeah. I’m ready,’ Ric said more aggressively than he meant to.

Ready to take on the whole damned world one day.

And come out on top.

Maybe even win Lara in the end.

He still couldn’t get her out of his head. Probably never would. Class…that’s what she had. Unattainable for Ric right now but he’d get there. One way or another, he’d make it to where he wanted to be.

CHAPTER ONE

Eighteen years later…

RIC DONATO sat with his executive assistant, Kathryn Ledger, in the Sydney office, checking photographs that had come in, most of them featuring celebrities at the Australian Film Industry Awards. That was the big number this week. Freelance photographers—some reputable, some paparazzi—sent them to his agency via the Internet. His staff sifted through them, choosing the highlights to be sold to magazines around the world.

Always class, Ric reflected with considerable irony. That was what his network of agencies sold—here in Australia, Los Angeles, New York, London, his contacts legion now, all of them eager to jump on his red carpet ride.

The grim realities he’d shot as a photo-journalist covering war zones had won prizes and respect in some quarters but the appeal of those photographs had been very limited. He’d learnt the hard way that it was pretty pictures that sold everywhere. People wanted to see class. They revelled in it, if only vicariously. They turned away from suffering.

Focusing on class had paid off, at both ends of the market. The rich and famous liked his guarantee that nothing negative would be brokered through his agencies. They even alerted his staff about photo opportunities, happy to supply the demands of the media as long as the shots were positive publicity for them. And the magazines lapped up what he could provide, paying mega-dollars for exclusives.

Everybody happy.

The magic formula for success.

Class…

It was the password to paradise, at least in terms of wealth and acceptability into even the highest social strata. He’d known that instinctively at sixteen, forgotten it in his twenties when he’d pursued other quests, learnt it again in time to build up what had turned into a multimillion dollar business.

Kathryn downloaded yet another photograph from the airport—more Hollywood stars departing, Ric thought, idly watching until one of the faces being revealed galvanised his attention.

Lara?

Her head was ducked down. She was wearing sunglasses. Was that discolouration beside her left cheekbone part of a black eye? Her mouth was puffy as though she’d taken a hit there, as well.

He switched his gaze to the man accompanying her. That was Gary Chappel all right—the guy she’d married—heir and current CEO to the Nursing Home empire his father had built. Born to huge wealth and with the kind of clean-cut handsome looks that could have made him a pin-up model if he’d been so inclined.

But he wasn’t looking so attractive in this photo, his mouth thinned into grim lines, hooded eyes emanating a vicious threat. He had one arm wrapped tightly around Lara’s shoulders. His other hand had a tight grip on her arm which was tucked between them. Bruisingly tight.

‘Wow! There’s fodder for the gossip pages,’ Kathryn remarked.

Gary and Lara Chappel—definitely an A-list couple in Australian high society, usually photographed as two of the most beautiful people. Ric had seen plenty of shots of them before, but never like this.

‘Delete?’ Kathryn checked with him before carrying out the action.

‘No!’ It came out forcefully.

Kathryn looked her surprise. ‘It’s not a happy snap, Ric.’

‘Print it for me and buy the copyright.’

‘But…’

‘If we don’t buy it someone else will. As you said, it’s prime fodder for gossip pages and I don’t want it printed publicly,’ he said decisively, acting on his gut instinct which was too strong for him to ignore.

‘It’s not our business to protect, Ric,’ Kathryn reminded him, her eyes searching his for the reason.

He’d trained her to handle all the business that came into the Sydney office. She was in charge when he was elsewhere. He trusted her judgment. But this was personal. Deeply personal. And he couldn’t let it go.

Funny after all these years and having had no contact with Lara Seymour since he’d been taken to Gundamurra…yet the sight of her, looking as though she was the victim of physical abuse by her husband, got to Ric.

And here was Kathryn, looking at him with eyes that questioned if he’d suddenly lost his marbles—green eyes, auburn hair cut in a short chic style, pretty face, trim figure always smartly dressed in a business suit—all in all a very attractive package, housing a brain that invariably displayed a quick intelligence. He liked her, wished her well in the marriage she was planning with her boyfriend who was a hot-shot dealer in a merchant bank.

In fact, he liked her very much and wasn’t sure her fiancé was good enough for her. Yet he’d never wanted Kathryn himself, not how he’d wanted Lara Seymour.

To him she’d been the embodiment of perfect femininity; softly slender, idyllically proportioned, a wonderful flowing curtain of shiny blond hair, a face of features drawn with delicate distinction, eyes the sparkling blue of summer skies, a beautiful smile that was both shy and inviting, smooth unblemished skin that glowed with a sheen he had ached to touch, to stroke. He’d understood the phrase, a swanlike neck, in the way she moved her head. And she’d walked like a dancer, innately graceful.

Every aspect of her had given him intense riveting pleasure, yet she’d also embodied the mystique of the unattainable, compelling him to…but that was far in the past.

‘Lara and I go way back, Kathryn,’ he said quietly. ‘She would hate having this exposed.’

‘You…and Lara Chappel?’ She looked astounded.

‘Lara Seymour…’

‘Is she why…’ An embarrassed flush flooded up her neck and burned her cheeks. Her gaze was hastily switched to the computer screen. ‘I’ll do a print for you,’ she muttered.

‘Why what?’ Ric pursued the point, curious to know what she was thinking.

A rueful glance. ‘Not my business, Ric.’

‘Say it anyway.’

A shrug that disowned any personal interest. ‘People talk about you. Let’s face it…you’d have to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. You could have your pick of beautiful women, yet…’

‘Yet?’

She finally gave him a direct look. ‘You never seem to have a serious relationship.’

His smile was wry. ‘I lead a busy life, Kathryn.’

‘Of course.’ She nodded and busied herself producing a print of the photograph on glossy paper.

Ric pondered the question she’d raised.

Yes, it was easy enough to get dates with women he found attractive. Somehow the attraction never lasted very long. It usually ended up feeling false, with him becoming too conscious of how pleased the women were with what he could provide. They didn’t know him. They just wanted the part of him that emanated the power of huge success and big money.

He’d certainly fulfilled his ambition of making it to the top. The world was more or less his oyster. He owned apartments in London and New York—prime properties—as well as in Sydney, with a magnificent harbour view. He also had classy cars in each city; a Jaguar in London, a Lamborghini in New York, a Ferrari here.

The Porsche he’d once stolen to impress Lara flitted through his mind. He could have bought one. Didn’t want to. Why remind himself of frustration…defeat? Although he wasn’t that boy anymore…was he?

Did anyone ever really escape the past?

Kathryn handed him the printed photograph and he stared down at it, feeling the past grab him back to that time and place when being with Lara Seymour had seemed more important than anything else. Somehow she’d been the fulfilment of all he’d craved for himself.

‘Got an envelope for this?’ he asked, knowing he was going to act on it.

Kathryn opened a desk drawer, gave him one.

‘Print five more copies…’ His instincts insisted on the precaution. ‘Lock them in the safe. Then delete.’

She nodded, frowning over the unusual commands. ‘What should I pay for the copyright?’

‘I don’t care.’ He slid the photo into the envelope, sealed it, stood up. ‘Negotiate the best price you can.’ He threw her a look of reckless determination as he headed for the door. ‘The bottom line is…I don’t care how much it costs. Just do it.’

‘Right!’ she said, accepting the task without any further questions, though her eyes were full of them.

Ric didn’t care. He could afford a stupid self-indulgence if that’s what it was. It looked to him as though Lara was in a bad situation with Gary Chappel. The photo had been taken at the airport. Had she been attempting to run away from her husband?

Domestic abuse could occur in any household and all too often it was hidden through shame. And fear of more punishment. His own mother had been a victim of it—dying from ruptured kidneys when Ric was only a kid. He’d been too little to protect her, getting beatings for trying. At least his father had gone to jail for it, but Ric had never forgotten the fear of testifying against him in court.

If Lara was living in that kind of fear…

Ric found his hands clenching as he rode the elevator down to the basement car park. It wasn’t his fight. He had no rights in this matter. Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore it. His heart burned with the need to act. And in his mind flared a wildly wanton exultation in having the power to do it—the power to do anything he chose to do.

He wasn’t a street kid anymore.

He was a rich guy.

With class in spades.

And money to burn any way he liked.

In that respect, he could more than match Gary Chappel.

He was glad he’d dressed in his favourite Armani suit this morning, more for meeting Mitch Tyler for lunch in the city than for business. Barristers always dressed in suits and Mitch was a top-line barrister these days. He’d made it to where he wanted to be. Johnny Ellis had, as well, going platinum on quite a few of his country and western songs. Even after all these years since their time at Gundamurra, the three of them still connected when they were in the same place.

None of them had married.

As Ric got in his Ferrari, he wondered if Mitch and Johnny had the same problem with the women they dated, finding themselves more outside the relationship than in it after a while. The three of them probably understood each other more than any woman could. In fact, he might need Mitch to sort out Gary Chappel if that was what Lara wanted.

He drove out of the car park for the office building at Circular Quay and headed for the Eastern Suburbs. The envelope containing the photograph was on the passenger seat beside him—a major weapon in a war he could wage if Lara wanted to be free.

He knew where she lived. Not that he’d ever kept tabs on her. There’d been a splash of publicity when Gary Chappel had acquired the fifteen million dollar mansion on the harbour foreshore at Vaucluse—a photospread of Lara showing off the refurbishings they’d subsequently done.

The perfect hostess for her station in life, Ric had thought then. He hadn’t imagined for one moment that her station in life might be miserable in private. It had seemed to him she was blessed with everything…and still unattainable as far as he was concerned. No point in manipulating a meeting with her. Leave the past in the past, he’d argued to himself. No good could come of it…only more frustration and defeat.

So why was he butting in now?

Because the picture he’d always had of her charmed life was askew.

What did he hope to achieve by intervention? Who did he think he was? Super-guy to the rescue?

Well, it might turn out as a black joke on him, but Ric knew he wouldn’t rest easy until he knew the truth behind that photograph.

Determination drove him to Vaucluse. Determination took him up to the massively colonnaded front porch and pressed the doorbell. Determination made him endure the long wait for the door to be opened—not by Lara, but by a middle-aged woman. The permed grey hair and royal blue button-through uniform dress instantly cast her as staff in Ric’s mind. Probably the housekeeper.

‘My name is Ric Donato. I’ve come to visit Mrs. Chappel,’ he declared with even more determination.

‘I’m sorry, Mr. Donato. Mrs. Chappel isn’t receiving visitors today,’ came the totally uncompromising statement. But it did reveal Lara was here.

‘She’ll see me,’ he replied grimly, holding out the envelope. ‘Please give this to Mrs. Chappel and tell her Ric Donato has come to discuss its contents with her. I’ll wait for her reply.’

‘Very well, sir.’

She took the envelope and closed the door in his face.

He waited.

In a way, it was blackmail. Lara would know it wasn’t the only copy of the photograph. She would be afraid of what use he might make of it. Fear would open this door to him. Then he would be entering her life again.

For how long he didn’t know.

He thought of it only as…something he couldn’t turn away from.

CHAPTER TWO

LARA sat in the nursery, her feet automatically tipping the rocking chair back and forth in a rhythm that was supposed to soothe, although she knew nothing was going to lift the depression of being imprisoned in this life with Gary. She had to escape it. Had to. But how?

She stared bleakly at the empty cot, the empty pram, the empty everything she’d bought for the baby she didn’t have. Stillborn. She wished she’d died with it. The ultimate escape. Probably the only one. Gary was too watchful of her to let her get away. Watchers everywhere.

All the same, she had to go before he made her pregnant again. She desperately hoped it hadn’t happened last night. That would be unbearable. She’d managed to get a packet of contraceptive pills from a pharmacy in Kings Cross, lying about leaving her prescription at home, promising to bring it in the next day. But she’d only been taking them for two weeks and wasn’t sure they would work yet.

Having a child would trap her in this marriage forever. Impossible to flee. Gary would have the law after her in no time flat, getting custody. Everything within her cringed from the thought of leaving a child in his keeping. That couldn’t be allowed to happen.

Marian Keith appeared at the doorway, holding a large white envelope. She was Gary’s choice of housekeeper, a widow in her fifties who’d run into financial difficulties, having sons who needed helping through university and very grateful for the generous wage she earned here.

All the domestic staff were Gary’s choices and they answered to him, not his wife. Yet occasionally Lara did catch a flash of sympathetic concern in the housekeeper’s eyes. More than anyone else, Marian Keith saw what went on in this house. Not that she saw much. Gary was careful to keep his brand of tyranny private.

‘Excuse me, Mrs. Chappel, there’s a gentleman at the door…’

‘You know I can’t see visitors today, Mrs. Keith,’ she said wearily, rocking on, her gaze drifting to the Walt Disney motifs printed on the wall. Snow White. Lara grimaced. She’d certainly eaten a poisoned apple when she’d married Gary Chappel. And there was no one to rescue her. No one.

‘He was very insistent. A Mister Ric Donato…’

Shock slammed into Lara’s heart. Her gaze jerked back to the housekeeper. ‘Who?’ she asked, not ready to accept what she’d heard.

‘He said his name was Ric Donato.’

Unbelievable after all these years! Her mind spun back to the past. How many times had she looked for him then, hoping he’d turn up, wanting to be with him again, not caring who he was or what he didn’t have. Ric Donato. Ricardo…

A lost dream.

One she’d buried as the years went by with no sight of him, no contact with him. Too late now. Impossible to let him see her like this.

‘He asked me to give this to you.’ Marian Keith came into the nursery, holding out the envelope. ‘He’s waiting at the door. He said you’d want to discuss the contents with him, Mrs. Chappel.’

Lara shook her head but she took the envelope and slit the flap open with her finger, curious to see what was inside. She only half removed the glossy sheet of paper, another more fearful shock hitting her at the sight of the faces printed on it.

Her hand instinctively shoved the sheet back in the envelope to keep it hidden. For several moments her mind froze in sheer terror of the consequences if the photograph was released to any form of the media.

‘What should I tell him, Mrs. Chappel?’

Him… Ric Donato waiting at the door…prepared to discuss the contents…

She had no choice.

It was either see him or…

Her heart fluttered. Her chest was unbearably tight. She sucked in air and made the only decision that might save her from Gary’s rage. ‘Show Mister Donato out to the patio, Mrs. Keith. I’ll see him there.’

Hesitation. Worry. ‘Are you sure, Mrs. Chappel?’

Gary would find out she’d had a visitor. No escaping that. She would have to confess why. Dear God! There was no way out. But better to stop this from going public and take the punishment for causing the scene that had been so graphically captured by someone’s camera.

‘I’m sure, Mrs. Keith,’ she said with far more confidence than she felt.

‘Very well.’ A nod of wary acquiescence and a brisk departure.

Lara couldn’t bring herself to move. The envelope gripped in her hand felt like dynamite, the fuse already lit and nothing was going to stop it burning to a dreadful explosion. Even if she was able to block publication of the photo, Gary would hate anyone knowing about it and Ric Donato knew. She shrank from facing the knowledge in his eyes—dark eyes—like dark brown velvet, she had once thought, caressing her, making her feel…

She shuddered, automatically trying to shake off the memory. No point in it. Too much water under the bridge since then. She’d only been fifteen, Ric sixteen. It had been a wildly romantic fixation…a crazy dream…Romeo and Juliet…ending because it had never had a chance of surviving in the real world.

And surviving was what it was all about, Lara thought grimly.

She pushed herself out of the rocking chair. Mentally bracing herself for the inevitable meeting with Ric Donato, she made a quick trip to the downstairs powder room to check her appearance. Make-up almost hid the discolouration around her eye. Carefully drawn lipstick minimised the puffiness of her mouth. Her long blond hair, as always, was a smooth, shiny fall to her shoulders. Even around the house, Gary expected her to maintain an impeccable appearance.

She wore stone-coloured designer jeans and a long-sleeved brown and white striped shirt. The cuff covered the bruise around her wrist. Nothing showed except…she put on a pair of sunglasses—perfectly reasonable to wear them on the patio, considering the sun glare from the swimming pool.

Probably stupid pride, she mocked herself. Ric Donato was not about to be deceived. He hadn’t come to be fobbed off, either, though why he had come…Lara took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to calm her inner agitation. He had to be faced, regardless of what motivation had brought him here.

She carried the envelope and its too revealing contents out to the patio, trying to quell the fear that was making mincemeat of her stomach. He was already there, standing under the sails that shaded the outdoors dining setting, gazing out at the sparkling blue waters of Sydney Harbour.

She was surprised to see him wearing a suit. The fabric and cut of it sharply reminded her of who Ric Donato was now—a man who could afford as many beautifully designed and tailored suits as he cared to own—a man who had the power to broadcast her private secrets to a gossip-hungry world. Over the years she’d read quite a few articles about him—prize-winning photo-journalist, moving into business with a network of photographic agencies around the world.

Yet she found herself staring at the black curly hair that was still worn long enough to dip over the back of his collar, remembering a much younger Ric Donato, remembering her fingers threading through the tight corkscrew curls…

One kiss.

That’s all there’d been between them.

Just one kiss…

He turned abruptly as though suddenly sensing her presence. She couldn’t look into his eyes—eyes that had to know where she was at now. Shame curled around her heart, squeezing unmercifully. How had her life come down to this hopeless prison of fear? It had been like a slippery slide…once on it, no way back.

‘Hello, Lara.’

The soft deep voice caused her pulse to flutter. Still she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She stared at his mouth—a full lower lip and an emphatically curved upper one. Sexy and sensual. An oddly compelling contrast to the strong chisel chin and the very masculine Roman nose.

She remembered how he’d kissed her…slowly, and oh so seductively, wooing the romantic soul she’d had then. If only she could go back to the past, make different choices, take different paths…

‘Ric…’ she forced herself to say with an acknowledging nod.

He gestured to the envelope in her hand. ‘It was taken at the airport and sent to my Sydney Agency this morning. For sale to anyone interested in buying.’

‘You haven’t sold it on yet?’ she pleaded in a frantic rush, unable to contain the flooding well of panic.

‘No. And I won’t, Lara,’ he assured her. ‘In fact, I’ve just called my executive assistant who told me she’s secured the copyright.’

‘I’ll pay whatever the price was.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s irrelevant.’

Lara gestured haplessly. ‘I don’t understand. Why have you come if not to…’

‘Make good on my investment?’ His mouth quirked into an ironic grimace. ‘Oddly enough, I came for you.’

‘Me?’ It came out as a squeak. Her throat was almost choked by a huge lump of chaotic emotion. She dragged her gaze up to his. Was it caring in his eyes? They burned with some indefinable purpose which certainly encompassed her, making her feel weirdly skittish.

‘Take your sunglasses off, Lara. You don’t have to hide from me.’

‘I’m not…’ She bit down on the lie, but to show her naked face…it was too humiliating. ‘Can’t you leave me with some pride, Ric?’

‘This isn’t about pride. It’s about truth. Just between you and me,’ he stated quietly, giving a promise she instinctively believed.

Besides, he had the photograph. Which he’d effectively quashed from publication. Didn’t that prove he was keeping her situation under wraps?

With a defeated little shrug of resignation, she removed the glasses, revealing the swelling that reduced one of her eyes to a narrow, bloodshot slit. ‘Black truth,’ she said self-mockingly, fighting back the pricking of tears.

He nodded. ‘I never told you my mother was a battered wife.’

Lara flinched at the brutal labelling of what he was seeing.

‘She died of injuries my father inflicted when I was eight,’ he went on, hammering home what could happen. ‘As many times as I tried to protect her, to get in the way, to deflect his violence, I couldn’t save her.’

‘I’m sorry. I…’ She shook her head, swallowing hard to hold back the threatening tears. ‘No, you never told me,’ she choked out, trying desperately to hang on to some dignity.

‘But I can save you, Lara. If you want me to.’

‘Oh, God!’ Control was beyond her. She moved blindly to the closest chair, dragged it out from the table, collapsed onto it, and covered her face with her hands, propping her elbows on the table for some solid support as she wept over the impossible prospect of being saved from a husband who was never going to let her go.

She was horribly conscious of Ric Donato watching her, waiting. At least he didn’t try to touch her or speak comforting words, which would have been unbearable. He remained on the other side of the table, as still as a statue, saying nothing, doing nothing, just giving her time to get herself together again. Which she did eventually, pride in terrible tatters, but as Ric had already said, this wasn’t about pride.

‘Thank you. But there’s nothing you can do.’ She lifted her head, letting him see that stark truth in her eyes. ‘Except what you’ve done…with the photograph. I’m very grateful to you for…for blocking it, Ric.’

Still that dark burning in his eyes. ‘At the airport…you were running from him?’

‘I failed,’ she admitted wretchedly. ‘Everyone here…they all report to him. I can’t go anywhere…without his knowing.’

‘No support from your family, Lara?’ he asked, frowning over her helplessness.

‘My father suffered a stroke.’ Her eyes mirrored the bleak irony of the situation. ‘He’s in one of the Chappel nursing homes. My mother doesn’t want to hear anything against Gary. It’s too…threatening…’

She didn’t go on. Ric knew she was an only child. No siblings to turn to. As for friends, Gary chose them. She’d lost touch with the girlfriends who’d shared her modelling years.

‘But you do want to leave him,’ he pressed.

‘Oh, yes.’ She flashed him a derisive look. ‘I’m not a masochist, Ric.’

‘How much, Lara?’ he challenged. ‘How far would you be willing to go to have Gary Chappel out of your life?’

She shook her head defeatedly. ‘It’s not possible.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he said with such arrogant confidence it goaded her into a reply that snapped with a mountain of miserable frustration.

‘Do you think I haven’t tested what can and can’t be done?’

‘Would you spend a year on an Outback sheep station, away from everything you’ve known?’

The Outback? She’d never thought of that as an escape route. Had never been there. Knew no one there. Was completely ignorant of how people lived there. But they did live. And she’d be free of the fear—fear she knew all too intimately, ever constant.

‘Yes,’ she said, defying any other judgment he might make from the rich and privileged lifestyle that had always been her environment. Desperation bred desperate measures.

‘Are you prepared to walk out with me now? No baggage. Just you, walking out and leaving all this behind.’

‘With…you?’

Her mind whirled with this further shock. Ric Donato wasn’t posing some theoretical situation. He was actually asking her…and she didn’t know the man he was now. How could she agree to such drastic action when her only personal experience with him had become a teenager’s romantic memory? That had been…eighteen years ago!

‘I’m your safe passage, Lara,’ he stated without so much as a flicker of an eyelash. ‘I can get you to Gundamurra where you’ll be protected from any possible pursuit by your husband. You’ll have safe refuge there for the year it takes to get a divorce.’

Gundamurra…it sounded like the end of the earth…primitive…

‘It’s best if you choose quickly,’ he coolly advised. ‘If what you say is true, and everyone here reports to your husband, he may already know of my visit and be suspicious of it.’

‘How can I trust you to do what you say you’ll do?’ she cried, the fear of consequences paralysing any decision-making process.

‘I’m here. I’m offering. What have you got to lose by trusting me?’

‘If you fail, it will be much, much worse.’

‘I won’t fail.’

‘Gary said he’d have a man watching me. Watching the house. Watching where I go.’

‘My car is parked at your front door. I have the resources to evade anyone who follows us.’

He spoke calmly, with an indomitable self-assurance that actually calmed the surge of panic that was screaming through her mind. In its place came a wild litany of hope. Could he do it? Could he really? Get her away to a safe place where Gary couldn’t reach her?

An Outback sheep station.

Why not?

It had to be more civilised than living like this.

‘It’s your choice, Lara. It will be a different life, but at least a life where you can always breathe easy.’

She took a deep breath. ‘This Gundamurra…it belongs to you?’

‘No. But I have lived there. And you’ll be made welcome. It’s where you can get your head straight…if you want to.’

Freedom was all she could think about, but freedom might also have a price tag.

‘If we do this…and succeed in getting there…I’ll owe you big-time, Ric.’

His mouth softened into a whimsical little smile. ‘This isn’t a money issue.’

Money? She hadn’t even thought of money. Looking at the man he’d become—powerful enough to challenge Gary, and feeling his power reaching out and winding around her…what did he want of her?

Was it only compassion for her situation moving him to offer help? What if he was like Gary, taking without caring what she wanted? No, he couldn’t be like that or he wouldn’t have spoken about his mother. She was letting fear screw up her instincts.

‘You can always pay me back whatever you think you owe me after you get a divorce,’ he dropped into her fretful silence.

‘How will I manage a divorce if I’m…?’

‘I know just the guy who can do that for you. Don’t worry about it, Lara. Mitch will nail Gary Chappel to the wall so there’ll be no comeback from your ex-husband.’

She shook her head incredulously. This was all happening so fast—promises being held out that she desperately wanted to grab. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Absolutely.’ His dark eyes glittered with more than determined purpose as he stepped forward and picked up the envelope she’d laid on the table. ‘This photograph will be used to gain fair compensation for what you’ve suffered at Gary Chappel’s hands.’

She stared at him, and the feeling that she’d had about Ric Donato as a teenager came flooding back—a driving, unstoppable force. But he had been stopped then…by the police for stealing a car.

No need for him to steal now. He had the wealth and power to make him unstoppable in any enterprise he chose to take on. With that recognition, hope grew in Lara’s heart. Rightly or wrongly, she did trust him. Whatever the risk, his offer was worth taking. At least she should try it.

She scraped her chair back and stood up, adrenalin shooting new energy through her. ‘I’ll go and get ready.’

Decision made.

He nodded, acknowledging it, approving it. ‘Bring nothing more than an ordinary handbag, Lara. Purse, driver’s licence, what you’d normally carry on an outing. Okay?’

She was acutely aware of the sense in that instruction—nothing to suggest a final departure. ‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes, Ric. Wait here for me?’

‘Yes. You can put your sunglasses on again.’

She did, then amazingly she found herself smiling at him, the heady promise of freedom lifting her heart. ‘Thank you, Ric.’

He smiled back. ‘I always wanted to be a white knight coming to the rescue of a fair damsel in distress. It feels good to be at your service, Lara. That’s enough for me.’

It was a reassurance that she was safe with him.

He wouldn’t demand anything of her.

Maybe fairy stories could happen in real life, Lara thought light-headedly, hurrying off to get a bag. Though she couldn’t see Ric Donato as a white knight. More a dark prince.

But dark was good when it came to hiding.

If he could keep her safe from Gary, he would indeed be a prince.

CHAPTER THREE

THE minutes ticked by, every second excruciatingly long for Ric. He paced up and down the patio, willing Lara not to change her mind, not to give in to a burst of panic over her decision. He kept checking his watch. Time was critical. If someone had reported his visit to Gary Chappel…if he came home…a face-to-face confrontation before they could get away might scuttle everything.

Footsteps coming…

He moved to meet them, his whole body wound tight with tension.

Lara…wearing a brown shoulder-bag now and carrying a hat. ‘Ready,’ she declared, determination in her voice, and with a slight lilt of excitement.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, and there was not the slightest hesitation from her, much to Ric’s relief.

The housekeeper was in the foyer. She looked anxiously at the two of them. ‘Mrs. Chappel…?’

‘I’m just going out for a while,’ Lara answered, heading straight for the front door. ‘We won’t be long, Mrs. Keith.’

The housekeeper beat her to the door. ‘Mrs. Chappel…’ It was a plea for Lara to reconsider.

She knew what went on here, Ric thought, and didn’t like it. He laid a hand on the housekeeper’s shoulder, drawing her gaze to his. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after her.’

She shook her head slightly but stepped back, letting them go without further protest.

‘It’s a conspicuous car, Ric,’ Lara remarked fearfully as he loaded her into it.

‘We won’t be in it for long,’ he assured her.

It was good to get behind the driver’s wheel and fire the engine up. He had Lara in his custody now and nothing was going to stop him from flying her to Gundamurra. The temptation to leave in a burst of speed was strong, but the wiser course was to drive sedately, watching for the watchers.

He was no sooner out of the private driveway to Chappel’s mansion, than a grey sedan, parked at the kerb on the street, started up and pulled out, quickly catching up to the Ferrari, sitting just behind it. A male driver, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.

Ric had no intention of shaking him. That was better done when the follower least expected it. At the first red light, he used his car phone to contact his office at Circular Quay. It only took a few moments for Kathryn to come on line. He spoke to her as he drove on.

‘Kathryn, I’m heading back to the office. I have Lara Chappel with me and I need your help. Clear your desk for the next couple of hours, grab your bag and car keys and be waiting for me in the basement car park. We should be there in about ten minutes. Okay?’

‘I’ll be standing by, Ric.’

‘Tell your secretary you’re off to a business meeting with a magazine editor and won’t be back until after lunch.’

‘Will do.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Who’s Kathryn?’ Lara instantly asked, her hands curling in her lap, clearly apprehensive about anyone knowing what they were doing.

‘Kathryn Ledger. My executive assistant in the Sydney office. She has both my confidence and my trust.’

‘Is she the one who bought the photo?’

‘Yes.’

Lara took a deep breath. ‘I take it we’ll be switching cars.’

‘Necessary. Don’t jerk around in your seat to look. We’re being followed by a guy in a grey sedan.’

The hands curled into white-knuckled fists.

Ric wondered just how many escape attempts had been thwarted. And punished. Irrelevant, he told himself. That was the past. He had to secure Lara’s future.

At the next red light, he punched out the numbers for Bankstown Airport and made contact with the guy in charge of Johnny’s Cessna.

‘Ric Donato. I’ll be taking Johnny’s plane on a flight to Bourke. Can you get it on the tarmac with a flight plan lodged as soon as possible, please. I should be there in an hour or so.’

‘I’ll do my best, Mr. Donato. Want some refreshments on board?’

‘Yes. There’ll only be two of us.’

‘No problem.’

He heard Lara take another deep breath. ‘A private plane?’ she asked tentatively.

He nodded. ‘It belongs to a friend of mine. I have the authority to take it any time I want. Johnny’s in the U.S. He won’t be using it for a while.’

‘You can fly?’ An odd wonderment in her voice.

He threw her a confident smile. ‘Don’t worry. I have a pilot’s licence and I’ve logged thousands of hours in the air.’

‘Bourke…?’

‘First stop. We’ll get you some clothes before moving on.’

‘I don’t have much money with me. But I do have credit cards. If Gary doesn’t…’

‘No. No credit cards. You can be traced through using them. I’ll supply the money. Consider it a loan.’

She didn’t protest.

Ric was glad she had the presence of mind to take in the ramifications and not make any fuss over the plan he was still formulating. He was getting quite a buzz from it. Reminded him of his years in war zones when fast action and planning on the run were critical for survival. Lots of adrenalin rushes in those days. This was a different kind of battle but a battle nonetheless. Lara’s life was at stake.

No doubt in his mind on that score. The black eye, the gut-wrenching weeping, the expressions of utter despair…that was more than enough to put Ric in fighting mode. The evidence of the guy following them sealed the truth of what Lara had told him. The Vaucluse mansion had been a prison and Gary Chappel deserved to lose his wife.

Whether the bastard had wrought irreparable damage on Lara, only time would tell. Ric was intent on giving her that time. Strange, after all these years, he still felt a strong tie to her. His first love. His only love, if it could be called that. More a fantasy, he told himself and Gary Chappel had more or less fitted into that fantasy. Except the truth of their marriage was very, very different to what he had imagined and Ric felt a hard cold fury toward the man who had brought Lara this low.

He glanced at her clenched hands, saw that she’d taken off her rings. A brave act, given her fear. Also a huge measure of her trust that he could, indeed, deliver what he’d promised. Which surely meant she did feel some positive connection to him. Perhaps a hangover from the past, remembering an innocent relationship between them.

Whatever…she had come with him and Ric was not about to abuse that trust in any shape or form. First and foremost she needed to feel safe. Then a swift, clean end to her marriage had to be accomplished. Which reminded him of his lunch date.

He called Mitch’s chambers and left a message with his clerk, cancelling the luncheon and saying he’d contact him tonight. ‘That’s the barrister I spoke about,’ he explained to Lara. ‘Mitch will know how best to handle your divorce.’

‘A barrister…’ She glanced curiously at him. ‘You have some very handy friends, Ric.’

Many friends, but only a few he could absolutely count on in this situation. ‘Johnny and Mitch shared my time at Gundamurra,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘And the man who owns the sheep station, Patrick Maguire, was like a father to us at a critical time in our lives. Each one of these men would do everything in their power to protect you, Lara.’

‘Because you ask them to?’

He shook his head. ‘Because they don’t like people being hurt and not one of them would be intimidated by anything your husband could do.’

She heaved a ragged sigh. ‘That might be a tall order.’

He threw her a devil-may-care grin. ‘They’re all tall men.’

It evoked a wry smile from her. ‘You, too.’ Then with a worried frown. ‘I don’t want Gary to cut you down. He’s used to getting his own way, Ric. There will be…repercussions…from helping me.’

Amazing that she could be concerned for him and his friends when her own survival was on the line. ‘There are times when a stand must be made, Lara,’ he said quietly. ‘And we are lesser people if we don’t do it.’

There were so many injustices in the world. For years he had shown them through his camera, but the shots he had taken hadn’t made any difference. They were simply a record of man’s inhumanity to man. Maybe that was part of what was driving him today—the need to make a difference, if only to Lara’s life.

He drove into the basement car park, using his office passcard to lift the barrier. ‘Gary’s guy can’t follow us in here by car. We have time to make the swap. We’ll both have to hunker down in Kathryn’s car so he won’t see us going out. You okay with that?’

‘Yes.’

Kathryn was waiting.

The escape ran smoothly. No hitches anywhere along the line. By midafternoon they were in Bourke. Ric set up an account in a local bank, made Lara a signatory to it, withdrew several thousand dollars, gave the money to her and sent her shopping by herself. He also gave her the keys to the car he’d hired at the airport, now parked in Oxford Street. She could load her shopping bags in it whenever she wanted to.

‘What will I need, Ric?’ she asked anxiously. ‘This is foreign territory for me. I want to fit in.’

Good positive attitude.

Ric was glad she had accepted the challenge of a year in the Outback, showing no traces of being a spoiled rich bitch who’d continually kick against the life. He wondered how she’d cope with the isolation, whether she’d welcome it or hate it. Only time would tell.

‘Shorts, jeans, shirts, good walking shoes, sandals,’ he rolled out. ‘You’ll need a warm jacket. A couple of sweaters. It can get cold at night out here. Think casual. Nothing too classy.’ He shrugged. ‘Look around you. See what the local people are wearing.’

Not that she’d be seeing any of them for the next couple of months. It was the end of February, still the wet season, and the road to Gundamurra would be washed out, impassable. The only way in and out was by plane. Even if Gary Chappel discovered where she was, he’d find it impossible to get to her. Patrick Maguire would see to that.

‘You’ll have to be quick, Lara,’ he warned. ‘We need to leave here by five o’clock if we’re to land at Gundamurra before sunset.’

‘I’ll be quick,’ she promised, then suddenly grinned. ‘No one’s going to care what I look like, are they?’

It was her first carefree expression. Ric felt his own heart lift with pleasure. ‘No one will give a damn. You’re not judged by clothes in the Outback. It’s the person you are that counts, Lara.’

‘The person…’ She sobered, grimaced. ‘I lost the girl you once knew, Ric.’

He nodded. Impossible to go back. They’d both grown beyond what they’d been as teenagers. ‘This is a chance to find out who you are now,’ he said, waving her on to do her shopping. ‘I’ll meet you at the car at five.’

He watched her quick jaunty walk up the street, knew she was revelling in the first taste of freedom. It was good, seeing her without the fear, seeing the difference. Reward enough for what he’d done.

The next step was to warn Patrick of their imminent arrival. He went to the post office to use the public telephone, wary of any record of the call being traced through his mobile. Luckily Patrick was in his home office not out in the paddocks.

‘It’s Ric,’ he announced. ‘I’m in Bourke. I’ll be flying in to Gundamurra before sunset.’

‘Great! I’ll meet you at the airstrip.’ Warm pleasure in his voice.

‘Patrick, I’m bringing someone with me and I’ve promised she can be your house guest for a year.’

‘A year?’ Startled by the length of time.

Ric quickly explained the circumstances. Patrick listened, making no comment until everything had been told.

‘This is your Lara, Ric?’ he asked. ‘The girl you stole the car for?’

His Lara. She’d never been his. Wasn’t now. Yet…‘I had to rescue her, Patrick. Will you keep her safe for me? She needs the time to put her marriage behind her.’

‘It may not work out the way you want, son,’ came the serious warning. ‘No good her walking out of one prison into another, if that’s how she feels about Gundamurra. But she’s welcome here for as long as she’s happy to stay.’

‘That’s all I ask.’ The choice was Lara’s. He couldn’t—didn’t want to—make her do anything against her will.

‘Fair enough.’

‘Thanks, Patrick.’

‘I look forward to meeting her.’

It may not work out the way you want… Ric pondered those words as he strolled down the street to the Gecko Café where he could buy a coffee while he waited for Lara.

What did he want from this?

He knew what he didn’t want—Lara being a battered wife.

But beyond setting her free from Gary Chappel…he wanted to see joy in her eyes…to recapture something of the girl that had once made every moment spent with her unbelievably special.

Magic.

Or was that a youthful dream, reaching for stars that were unreachable?

He shook his head, accepting Patrick’s dictum that it may not work out how he wanted.

But it didn’t kill the latent hope in his heart.

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