“I want you, Rafe,” she said.

Her whole body quivered with nerves and desire. “I want you to hold me close.”

This nightmare of Ally’s could be no more than trickery, he thought with sudden anger. “I see.” Rafe’s voice was harsh. “We make love until dawn, then you fly off to Sydney and your brilliant career.”

“How can you be so cold to me?” Ally implored, holding his hand to her breast so he could feel the chaos inside her. “I know I did something dreadful, but can’t you try to understand?”

“Ally, please, no more. I’ve spent years killing off my feeling for you. Roll over and go back to sleep. I’m not even tempted.”

“You’re in as much pain as I am.” How could he not be aware of the passion that had always been between them? “I want you, Rafe.” Her lips parted on a shaky breath. “I need you.” It came out as a quick sob. She needed to tell him how much she loved him. How she had always loved him. Always would….

Dear Reader,

Ever since I can remember, our legendary Outback has had an almost mystical grip on me. The cattlemen have become cultural heroes, figures of romance, excitement and adventure. These tough, dynamic, sometimes dangerous men carved out their destinies in this new world of Australia as they drove deeper and deeper into the uncompromising Wild Heart with its extremes of stark grandeur and bleached cruelty.

The type of man I like to write about is a unique and definable breed—rugged, masculine and full of vigor. This Outback man is strong yet sensitive, courageous enough to battle all the odds in order to claim the woman of his dreams.

The Bridesmaid’s Wedding is the second of three linked books where I explore the friendships, loves, rivalries and reconciliations between two great Australian pioneering families. They are truly LEGENDS OF THE OUTBACK.

The Bridesmaid’s Wedding
Margaret Way

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

BRISBANE in June. Sky meets the bay in an all-consuming blue, glorious in the sunshine. Brilliant flights of lorikeets dart in and out of the blossoming bottlebrushes, drunk on an excess of honey. Chattering parties of grey and pink galahs pick over the abundant grass seeds on the footpaths, not even bothering to fly off as someone approaches. The twenty-seven larkspur hills that surround the river city glow with wattles, the national emblem, a zillion puffballs of golden yellow flowers drenching the city in irresistible fragrance.

In the parks and gardens, the ubiquitous eucalyptus turn on an astonishing colour display as do the bauhinias, every branch quivering with masses of flowers—bridal white, pink, purple and cerise—like butterflies in motion, a foil for the pomp of the great tulip trees with their scarlet cups. All over suburbia, poinsettias dazzle the eye while the bougainvillea, never to be outdone, cover walls, fences, pergolas and balconies with sweeping arches of pink, crimson, purple, gold and bronze, but none more beautiful than the exquisite bridal white. A surpassing sight.

It was on just such a June afternoon, beloved by brides, Broderick Kinross, master of the historic cattle station Kimbara, in the giant state of Queensland’s far southwest, was married to his beautiful Rebecca in the garden of the graceful Queensland colonial Rebecca’s father, a retired airline captain, had bought when he and his second family returned home from his long-time base in Hong Kong. The wedding ceremony and reception were deliberately low key in accordance with the bride’s and groom’s wishes, with family and close friends, but a huge Outback reception was planned on Kimbara when the couple returned from their honeymoon in Venice.

Now in the rear garden bordered by the deep, wide river, some seventy guests were assembled, revelling in the sparkling sunshine and the stirring uplift of emotions. Even the breeze gave off soft tender sighs, showering blossom out of the trees like so much confetti. All faces wore smiles. Some like the bridegroom’s aunt, the internationally known stage actress, Fiona Kinross, superbly dressed in yellow silk with a marvellously becoming confection on her head, registered transports of rapture. This was a wonderful day; the family wedding, the culmination of a great romance.

As the hour approached, everyone looked expectantly towards the house when quite suddenly the bride’s four attendants, three bridesmaids and one little flower girl, the bride’s enchanting little stepsister Christina, appeared, moving down the soaring palm-dotted lush sweep of lawn to some wondrous floating music by Handel.

Each bridesmaid was a natural beauty. Each had fabulous long hair, sable, titian and blonde, left flowing over bare shoulders, with tiny braids at the sides and back woven with seed peals, miniature silk roses in the same shade as their gowns with flashes of gold leaves. Their ankle-length sheath gowns of delustred satin showed off their willowy figures to perfection, the strapless bodices decorated with delicate pearl and crystal beading that glittered in the sunlight, the precise shades of the gowns chosen to be wonderfully complementary, rose pink, jacaranda blue, a delicate lime green.

In their hands they carried small trailing bouquets of perfect white butterfly orchids on a bed of ferns. The little flower girl dressed in lilac silk organdie with a wide satin sash, was smiling angelically, scattering rose petals from her beautifully decorated flower basket. All four of them shimmering in the radiant light, irresistible in their youth and beauty.

“Oh, the magic of being young!” Fee whispered with a catch of emotion to the tall, distinguished man standing next to her. “They might have stepped out of a painting!”

A sentiment apparently shared by the other guests who broke into cries of delight and a great wave of “Aahs.”

Only one person felt strangely alone, almost isolated, but no one would have ever guessed it. Rafe Cameron, best man, with his golden leonine mane, fine features and air of authority and pride. Rafe had his own thoughts, far-ranging yet fiercely close. Thoughts that stirred an unwelcome rush of bitterness that had no part in this wonderful day. But Rafe was human. A strong man of correspondingly strong emotions who had known rejection and heartache and never got used to it.

Now he stood rooted, staring up at the ravishing tableau, his eyes drawn hypnotically towards the chief bridesmaid in her beautiful rose gown. Ally Kinross. Brod’s much loved younger sister. The girl who had stolen his heart and left him with a bitter dark void in exchange. It was an agony to him how beautiful she looked, a smile of utter luminosity on her face, her magnificent curly dark hair—cosmic hair he had once labelled it in fun—hair with a life of its own, tracking down her back, the sun striking all the sparkling little gems woven into the long strands. Her perfect olive skin was pale but high colour burned in her cheeks, a sure sign of her inner excitement.

Oh, Ally, he mourned deep inside of him. Have you any idea what you did to me? But then, they never had used the same measure. Ally’s protestations of undying love were like tears that quickly dried up.

Brod and Rebecca. It should have been Ally and me. He could scarcely credit it now, but this joyous occasion could have been for them. Hadn’t they planned on getting married, even when they were kids? It was almost something they took for granted. The two great pioneering families, Kinross and Cameron, were surely destined one day to be united? Even Stewart Kinross, Brod’s and Ally’s difficult, autocratic, late father had wished it. Except it didn’t happen. Ally had turned her back on him, running off to Sydney to make a name for herself as an actress just like her extraordinary aunt Fee, who now stood smiling brilliantly, looking fantastically nowhere near her age. Ally would look just like that when she was older. Both had the same marvellous bone structure to fight the years. Both had that laughing, vibrant and I-can-do-anything nature. Both knew how to take men’s hearts and break them. It was in the blood.

Determinedly Rafe pushed the thought from his mind. This wasn’t the day for self-pity, God knows. He rejoiced in his great friend’s good fortune but he was beginning to feel his practised smile stretch on his mouth. It was this first sight of Ally that had thrown his hard-won detachment into uproar. He only hoped no one would notice, not realising how very successful he had become at masking his emotions. But hell, he was supposed to be tough. A Cameron which counted for a lot in this part of the world A Cameron respected by his peers. A Cameron brought unstuck by a Kinross woman.

And it wasn’t the first time. But they were old stories. Everyone at the wedding would know them.

Rafe wrestled down the old anguish, rewarded by a moment’s powerful diversion as right on cue the bride, on the arm of her proud father, appeared on the upper terrace moving from the shade of the wide verandah into the sunburst of light. She was wearing a lovely smile, posing for a time as though exquisitely conscious of her impact.

Rafe for all his hurt felt his own mood lifting, hearing Fee exclaim, “Magic!” above the great wave of spontaneous applause.

The bride remained on the terrace a short time longer so everyone could look at her, her great sparkling eyes dominating her face, her hands clasped loosely on her beautiful trailing bouquet of white roses, tulips and orchids. Like her bridesmaids she wore a slim-fitting gown, an overlay of gossamer-thin silver lace, over an ice blue satin sheath that reached to her delicate ankles and showed off her exquisite handmade shoes. She didn’t wear the traditional veil. Her thick glossy hair was drawn back into the very fashionable “Asian” style, a little reminiscent of Madame Butterfly, decorated high on the crown with tiny white orchids and little cascades of seed pearls and crystals. She wore no jewellery except for the dazzling diamond studs in her earlobes, a wedding present from her adoring groom.

For the shortest time, something she couldn’t possibly indulge on such a day, a kind of broken-hearted sadness swept over Fee. Memories she had learned to suppress. Her two failed marriages, all wrong really, right from the start, but she had her child, her beautiful Francesca, more precious to her with every passing day. In retrospect it seemed she had failed though she had been judged highly successful in the eyes of the world as an acclaimed actress; a countess for almost twelve years until the terrible divorce when she had been out of her mind with a short-lived passion for her then lover, an American film star more famous than she. The lunatic years, she thought of them now. Lust never becomes love. And she had had to say goodbye to her lovely little daughter who remained in the custody of her father.

“Fee, darling, you’re looking very sad.” Her companion bent his pewter-coloured head. “Is anything the matter?”

“Memories, Davey, that’s all.” Fee turned slightly to squeeze his arm. “My mind was wandering like a bird in the breeze. I’m an emotional creature at the best of times.”

Lord wasn’t that the truth! David Westbury, first cousin to Fee’s ex-husband, Lord de Lyle, the Earl of Moray, smiled down on her wryly. The bold and bewitchingly beautiful Fee. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t found her captivating, for all the family had never wanted de Lyle to marry her. They feared what his own ultra-conservative mother, sister to de Lyle’s mother, had called her “gaudiness,” her palpable sex appeal, the richness and “loudness” of her voice, which was really her training, the resonance that could reach to the back seat of a theatre, the terribly foreseeable conflict of interests. The family turned out to be right but David knew for a fact Fee had given his cousin his only glimpse of heaven for all it came with a heavy price.

“Here comes the bride,” Fee began to hum, doing her best to forget her own deep regrets. “Be happy, my darlings!” she breathed.

“Amen!” David seconded beneath his breath, feeling enormously proud of his own young relative, Francesca, the titian-haired bridesmaid in the lovely blue gown. He was so glad Fee had kept up the family ties, inviting him out to Australia for the wedding and the promise of a long luxurious holiday in the sun. Four years now since he had lost his dearest Sybilla, the nicest woman he had ever known. Four sad rather empty years.

Even from as far away as Australia Fee had shown her concern. “You want a bit of mothering, Davey,” she had announced over the phone in that still wildly flirtatious voice. Even steeped in depression that had made him laugh. Fee had never known how to “mother” anyone, least of all her own daughter Francesca.

The focus of all eyes, Rebecca and her father began to move down the short flight of stone steps flanked by golden cymbidium orchids in great urns, smiling at the guests in front of her. It was all dreamlike in its perfection, Fee thought, her eyes stealing to the Gothic arch-way specially erected for the wedding ceremony. It was decorated with masses and masses of fresh flowers and beneath the arch stood her adored nephew, Brod, looking wonderfully handsome, his traditional male attendants by his side; the splendid Cameron brothers, Rafe, the best man, then Grant, the sun flaring off their golden heads. Next to Grant, a six-footer-plus like the rest of them, Brod’s long-time friend and fellow polo player, Mark Farrell, all four, lean, rangy bodies resplendent in long-jacketed slate blue suits with white, pleated, front-wing collared shirts.

The bridegroom wore a royal blue Italian-style cravat, his attendants, silver. It was all dreamlike in its perfection, Fee thought. As one’s wedding day should be.

Now the ceremony was due to begin. The celebrant was waiting, moved by the atmosphere of reverence that settled over the assembly like a veil….

Throughout the marriage ritual, Rafe stood fair and square beside his friend, smoothly handing Brod the bridal ring at just the right moment, his heart deeply touched by the obvious happiness of the bride and groom. Rebecca had changed greatly from the ice-cool young woman he had first met. Secure in Brod’s love she had blossomed like a closely furled bud into radiant flower, the warmth that had always been in her, quenched by a disastrous first marriage, bubbling to the surface. Nowadays Rebecca was brimming with life, a wonderful transformation with Brod beside her.

As bride and groom were pronounced man and wife, he couldn’t control the pressing desire to look towards the young woman who had beguiled then betrayed him, though it showed him danger. Those laughing green eyes, witch’s eyes, forever promising and cajoling, were glittering with tears.

Tears?

His jaw was sore from clenching it. Where was his strength? He wasn’t going to share any tears with her though her glance locked with his at precisely the same moment, as though reminding him openly. It perturbed him there was so much anger left inside him, so much misery he had shoved into a dark corner. She had hurt him that badly. But she wasn’t going to know about it. The tenderness towards her that had been so much a part of him at least had vanished. Ally might be a superb actress but he wasn’t too bad at acting a part himself. God knows he’d had plenty of practice.

His tanned, golden face wearing a masterpiece of a smile, Rafe congratulated his friend, clamped him affectionately around the shoulders, and kissed Rebecca’s satin cheek, wishing her all the happiness in the world. He told the bridesmaids, Francesca, Fee’s beautiful daughter, and Caroline, Rebecca’s long-time friend, they looked absolutely perfect before turning to Ally, who was unashamedly wiping the few spilt tears from her cheeks.

“It must be fantastic to marry the woman you love,” he remarked as though there wasn’t a single dark corner left in him. “I’ve never seen Brod so happy or so utterly at peace.”

His voice was deep and relaxed, yet Ally winced as if from a sharp sting. Knowing him so well, she was aware of the fires that burned deep inside him, the feelings of betrayal so smoothly hidden but a hundred times worse since the last time she had seen him at her father’s funeral. The message behind his words told her very clearly he would never take her back again. She wanted to go into his arms. Hug him. Beg his forgiveness, his understanding. But she knew she couldn’t.

Instead she answered gently, “It was a beautiful ceremony. Perfect. I’m going to miss my big brother.” Her expression turned nostalgic. “Motherless, and with the way Dad was, Brod and I were so close.”

Rafe tried to deal with a stab of pity. He wanted to stretch out a hand to her. Stroke her sumptuous wild hair. Wind it around his hand like he used to. Just the slightest breeze and it ruffled into a million curls.

“You haven’t lost him, Ally,” he managed.

“I know.” Ally felt the same old powerful tug towards him. “But Rebecca is the number one woman in his life now.”

“And rightly so.” Rafe’s tone was crisp. “You want it that way, don’t you?” He looked across the throng of guests to the radiant bride and groom happily receiving kisses and congratulations and a little bit of warm teasing.

“Of course I do!” She lifted her face to him in her spirited way. “I’m thrilled. I love Rebecca already. It’s just that…”

Of course he knew. He was just trying to stir her up a little. “The family has regrouped,” he relented. As a Cameron, Brod’s best friend, and Ally’s once-taken-for-granted future husband, he knew just how dysfunctional the Kinross family had been. The late Stewart Kinross had been a hard, complex man, barely hiding his resentment of his charismatic son, subtly making Ally suffer. Brod and Ally had had to look to one another for understanding and support all their young lives. “Brod is married now,” he continued, “life goes on. But you haven’t lost your brother, Ally. Just gained a sister.”

“Of course.” She gave her beautiful smile. “It’s just that weddings are serious times, aren’t they? Full of happiness, but a little sadness, too. Days when none of us seem to be able to tuck our emotions safely out of sight.” She allowed herself to look into his eyes. They were so beautiful. Gold-flecked, neither grey nor green but an iridescent mix of both.

“Is that a shot at me?” he challenged.

At least they were talking, she thought gratefully. “Will we ever be friends again, Rafe?” she asked, avoiding an answer.

He chose to ignore the traitorous twist of his heart. Friends? he thought grimly. Was that what we were? He wasn’t going to permit this blatant appeal to his senses, either. “Why, Ally, darling,” he drawled, “I can’t remember a time when we weren’t.”

She didn’t have to touch her cheeks to know they were on fire. She supposed she deserved this. His distinctive strong-boned face with the Cameron cleft chin, looked forged in gilt. He was a splendid creature full of power and energy, beautiful really with that mane of gold hair, another Cameron hallmark. There was an enormous guardedness in his expression, yet a glimmer of something even he couldn’t control, the powerful physical attraction that had once dictated their lives.

Oh, God. I need you, Ally thought. I want you. I love you. I bitterly regret running away from you and bringing about my own destruction. She realised with hidden grief the strength of her feelings far from abating over time had become more desperate. Only Rafe was a proud man like all the Camerons. A man who placed an immense value on loyalty and she had betrayed him. One of those false steps in life when she had placed self-fulfilment or how she had thought of it then, above a love so strong and deep it had all but taken possession of her. Love isn’t always safe. At twenty years old the force of it had panicked her. Against everyone’s wishes, she had fled. Now this. Lifelong estrangement from Rafe. It made her want to weep.

“Why look so heartbroken?” He cocked a golden brown eyebrow.

“You forget how well I know you.” Though she smiled, Ally kept her telltale eyes veiled. “You’re even more remote since the last time I saw you. I’m fearful you’ve totally shut me out.”

“For good, darling,” he assured her without apparent regret. A dark wing of her hair with its decorated little braid fell forward onto her cheek and despite himself he found he was tucking it back.

Fool! Only Ally always had been too much to handle. When he spoke it seemed imperative he make his position perfectly clear. Now his eyes were trapped by the wide beautiful shape of her mouth. The eager, ardent mouth he had kissed a thousand times. And never enough. “I’ve got my life together,” he said by way of explanation. “I’d like to keep it that way. But don’t think I’m not grateful for what we had. The bond between us will last. It’s just I’m not your willing captive any more.”

She gave a low sceptical laugh. “Captive? I could as easily capture an eagle. In my memory it was the other way round.”

“You were always one-eyed,” he said in his deep seductive voice. “Who was the girl who at age fourteen told me she adored me. That she wanted to live with me all her life. You were going to marry me the day you turned eighteen. Remember, Ally? You the born seductress. Remember how you told me you belonged to me? Remember how you drove me crazy with desire when I’d made a sacred vow I wouldn’t touch you until you were old enough to handle our relationship. Poor me,” he mocked, “it was my duty to protect your vulnerable innocence.”

Her eyes flickered, moved away. “You were always very gallant, Rafe. A gentleman in the grand manner.”

She gave a passing guest that incandescent smile that somehow flooded him with anger. “But you changed all that, didn’t you?” He looked down into her face. “And maybe that was the big mistake. When it came right down to it, the fire you thought consumed you couldn’t match the fire in me. You were the candle to the inferno, or something like that. A reckless child to the man. Is that what frightened you away?”

Because there was a hard kernel of truth in it, Ally tossed back her head, causing her long hair to bounce along her back. “You didn’t find fault with me when I was in your arms,” she retaliated, her heart swelling with emotion. She had a vivid flash of the way it was, an experience so momentous, like nothing else that had ever happened to her, their bodies bonding passionately in the great front bedroom at Opal. A bedroom not slept in since Sarah and Douglas Cameron, Rafe’s and Grant’s parents, had been killed in a light aircraft crash returning home to the station. But Rafe had wanted it that way. Wanted their first mating in the immense ancestral bed. A night without sleep. Delirious making love.

Rafe. Her first love. Only love. There had been other relationships since, a very few; the ones she had settled for a second best, none with that tremendous significance. None who could make her soar. Mind, body, spirit. No one. Rafe was her past, her present. Life without him in the future was unimaginable. He was the missing piece of the jigsaw of her life without which the whole design could never be resolved.

She should have married Rafe years ago when she’d had the chance, instead of fleeing his powerful aura. Rafe, like her brother Brod, had inherited wealth, power, responsibility. A life of service to the land. She understood it, bred to the same heritage, but she couldn’t pretend she had the same dedication. Now years later she would give that dedication gladly. Her career had brought her public admiration, the respect of her peers, but it hadn’t brought her either happiness or fulfilment. It had brought her a good deal of hard work, terrible hours, and increasingly a level of anxiety she had never remotely anticipated. There was a high price to pay for fame.

“Ah, well, it’s all in the past,” Rafe was saying gently without sounding remotely friendly. “I propose we leave it there instead of raking over the dying embers. You know that. So do I. Although it seems a pity your great career isn’t as fulfilling as you thought?”

With an abrupt movement she took a little step back from him, raising her chin. “Who told you that?”

He wagged a finger at her. “Ally, Ally, because I can match you step for step, beat for beat, word for word. I know you as well as you know me. You’re not happy in your make-believe world. You used to say you couldn’t breathe in the city. And because I liked you the way you were,” his gaze moved down over her, deceptively silky, “I have to tell you you’re way too thin.”

“Great! I look awful?” she mocked. She knew without vanity how good she looked even if stress was taking its toll.

He considered the question briefly, golden head, metallic in the sunlight, to one side. “Well, put it this way. You’re not quite as much woman as you used to be. There’s not an awful lot on top.” He glanced meaningfully at her fitted strapless bodice. “But you look beautiful. The sort of woman one can’t take one’s eyes off. Totally desirable. Which makes me wonder why there’s never any affair of yours splashed over the cover of the women’s magazines?”

“Somehow I still believe my private life is my own. Anyway, since when have women’s magazines appealed to you?” She spoke sweetly, aware as Rafe must be, they were the focus of many eyes. A splendid affair gone wrong like Scarlett and Rhett.

“Ever heard of women friends?” His dry tone glittered. “I was over at Victoria Springs only the other day, submerging myself in old issues with Lainie. The two of us went through them together. Lainie has always been one of your greatest admirers. Four pages of Ally Kinross wears seductive separates, that was in Vogue. Mercifully you put them together. I figured you could have worn a bra with the see-through number, Lainie predictably thought you looked fabulous. There was Ally Kinross acting up a storm; Ally Kinross tells us about her working life. No wonder you’ve lost weight, but no mention of your love life, though. I say that’s odd. Neither of us is getting any younger.”

Which was true. “Perhaps you’ll show me the way,” she retorted with a spark of anger. “You and Lainie share the same tastes. Very establishment, very conventional and so forth.” Was she so jealous? Of Lainie, their friend?

He made a soft, jeering sound. “To hell with that! You’re talking nonsense.”

“Am I? It seemed to me the relationship has flourished,” she commented, believing it to be true, “so don’t look down your ridiculously straight nose at me. Though at five-seven, allow a couple more inches for heels, not a lot of people do. But you can.” Rafe, like her brother Brod, stood an impressive six foot three.

“I expect being a tall woman has its problems?” he said, a lazy smile to his so sexy mouth.

“You found your way around them.” Despite herself she sparked again. “You’ve changed, Rafe. You never used to be sarcastic.”

“Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He seemed to find that amusing. “Anyway, that’s the least of your problems.” He saluted a passing guest who didn’t make the mistake of butting in. Rafe’s and Ally’s unique relationship was known to all of them.

“I didn’t say I had any problems,” Ally began to realise she and Rafe had stood a little too long talking. Everyone was moving off to the huge white marquee erected in the grounds, among the guests an attractive young woman in an exceptionally pretty flower-printed chiffon dress with a sparkling ornament securing her cascade of long, thick, fair hair. Lainie Rhodes from Victoria Springs Station. Lainie, although a couple of years younger than Ally, had been part of everything from childhood. “So you’re not admitting you’ve turned up the heat on your friendship with Lainie?” Lainie wished it was otherwise but she couldn’t control her need to know. Her eyes followed Lainie’s high-spirited progress, arm in arm with Mark Farrell, the groomsman.

“It sounds like you don’t care for that?” Rafe countered very dryly, trying to blanket out his own warring emotions. Lainie was a nice girl. He was fond of her, but he hadn’t gotten around to seeing her as more than “the girl next door.”

Yet. The hard fact was he had a responsibility to get married. Produce an heir for Opal. It was imperative he find a solution to Ally. A good woman to combat her.

Knowing him so intimately Ally picked up on his wavelength. “Lainie is one of us,” she said almost in quiet resignation. “We used to compete in the show ring. She’s fun and very loyal.”

“Totally different from you.” It was cruel. A bitter accusation he couldn’t prevent from rushing out.

Cut to the heart, Ally, the accomplished actress, turned her response into provocative banter. “You mean, I don’t remind you of a friendly puppy?”

But Rafe, too, had recovered his equilibrium. “I meant that in the nicest way possibly.” He wasn’t at all fazed by Ally’s reminding him of a chance remark he had once made about Lainie. There was a time she had practically leapt into his lap every time she saw him, which was the way her teenage crush seemed to take her.

“Obviously.” Ally nodded in agreement. “May we expect an announcement?” Though she continued to speak breezily it was taking all her training. She felt she couldn’t bear an answer that suggested a growing involvement.

“Ally, darling, let me set you straight.” Rafe reverted to a sardonic drawl. “My private life no longer has a great deal to do with you. No offence. Just a simple statement of fact. What we had I’ll remember all my life, but it’s over. Something that happened at another time. To different people. Ah, here’s Grant and Francesca coming our way,” he exclaimed like a man granted a reprieve. “I’m sure you’ve noticed they get on amazingly well, though don’t read anything into that. The Lady Francesca has her own brilliant life in London.”

“She might like to change it.” Ally, too, watched her cousin Francesca and Rafe’s brother Grant walking arm in arm towards them. Francesca of the glorious titian hair looked ravishingly pretty in her jacaranda blue bridesmaid’s dress, not even reaching to Grant’s broad shoulder. Grant, like Rafe, was outrageously handsome. He and Fran looked wonderful together, their laughter spinning out to reach them. Happy, carefree laughter. The sort of laughter one wants to hear at a wedding. Ally was enormously fond of her cousin, Lady Francesca de Lyle. The idea of having Francesca around all the time had immense appeal.

Not apparently to Rafe.

“Don’t say that!” he murmured, half amused, half alarmed. “I don’t want to see my brother’s heart broken, as well.”

Her breath seemed to leave her. As well? “Are you admitting you still have some feeling left for me?” She held his eyes, eyes that had once been infinitely loving. Eyes that still had such power over her.

“I’m saying I did, until you got bored and ran away.” His marvellous body relaxed. “Sometimes it seems a pity your spell lost its potency, Ally. I might never feel that kind of heat again. Ah, the feverishness of youth!” His voice was light with nostalgia. “Such a dangerous time.”

“At least it gave you a good excuse to hate me.”

“Hate you?” He stared at her in mock shock. “I can’t get stuck with that one, Ally. I’d never dream of hating you. What do they say about one’s first love? Never mind.” He extended a courteous arm to her. “Why don’t we join up with brother Grant and your Francesca? Most people have made their way to the marquee. I want to see all the delectable things to eat. I let lunch go so I’d have plenty of space. I just love weddings. Don’t you?”

CHAPTER TWO

THE reception had been arranged as a buffet with long tables, covered in white linen cloths that had been given a deep lace edging, laden with delicious food: glazed ham and turkeys, great platters of bay oysters on beds of crushed ice, luscious seafood of all kinds—crab, prawns, lobsters, crayfish, scallops, silver trays of whole smoked salmon and capers ringed by the old favourite, quartered boiled eggs. There were fish dishes done in mouth-watering pastry, succulent slices of roast beef and lamb, pasta dishes, chicken dishes, mountains of piping hot rice and a variety of garden salads to refresh the palate. But the greatest fanfare was the dessert table. Guests stood looking at it transfixed. Some of the younger ones even started to applaud.

There were cheesecakes, shortcakes, splendid gateaux, tortes, mousses, trifles, the much loved meringues, their snowy peaks running passion fruit, or for the more sophisticated the meringues were filled with hazelnut cream and drizzled with chocolate, the delectable whole dominated by a four-foot-high fruit and chocolate brandy wedding cake, like some wondrous sculpture. The Corinthian pillars were perfect in every detail as were the garlands of handmade flowers and lace work. As the guests continued to exclaim at the ravishing effect of decor and food, waiters in black trousers and short white jackets began to circulate, offering the finest champagne.

The moving ceremony over, the festivities began.

The idea was for the guests, all known to one another, to mingle freely, moving from table to table as the mood took them, the whole atmosphere wonderfully relaxed. Only the bridal party had defined seating at the top table.

Stage one was the feasting that everyone enjoyed tremendously, then came the speeches. The next stage was the dancing, balloon and glitter-throwing. Someone even threw two or three plates before they were reminded it wasn’t actually a Greek wedding.

Later on, after the bride and groom had left for their flight to Sydney where they would spend a night in a luxurious hotel before embarking on the first leg of their trip to Europe, the rest of the bridal party and some of the younger guests were going on to the theatre with supper after if anyone possibly had room for it, and there was talk of continuing on to Infinity, the “in” nightclub. No one wanted such a glorious day to end.

When it was time for the bride to change into her going-away clothes, Ally went up to her room to help her.

“This has been the most wonderful day of my life!” Rebecca announced, smiling emotionally through her tears. “Brod to share my life. I adore him. You’ve been wonderful to me, too, Ally. I’m so grateful for your friendship and support. You played a big part in bringing us back together. You’re such a generous spirit.”

“As I should be.” Ally took charge of Rebecca’s beautiful wedding gown. “I’ve taken over the role of sister.”

“That’s true!” Rebecca laughed shakily, stepping into the skirt of her fuchsia bouclé wool going-away suit. “I know you’re going to be the best sister I could have.”

It sounded so heartfelt, so full of gratitude, Ally stopped smiling. She went forward to kiss Rebecca’s cheek. “Thank you for that, Rebecca,” she said gravely. “Thank you for becoming part of my family. You’re going to change Brod’s life in the most wonderful way. Give him such love. Family. That’s what he needs.”

“And you, Ally?” Rebecca looked at her new sister-in-law with her great shining eyes. “You must be happy, as well.”

“I’m going to try, love.” Ally was amazed her voice was so steady. “But I don’t think Rafe is ever going to change his mind about me.”

“You still love him.” It wasn’t a question but a sad statement of fact. There were no secrets between the two young women. They’d shared many a heart-to-heart discussion.

“I’ll always love him.” Ally went to the wardrobe to hang up Rebecca’s dress. “That’s just the way it is. I’ll continue to love him even if he marries someone else.” She closed her eyes in involuntary pain.

“You don’t think your friend, Elaine…?” Rebecca asked tentatively. She couldn’t help noticing Rafe had danced with Lainie Rhodes a number of times, Lainie staring adoringly into his eyes.

“Anything’s possible, Becky,” Ally was forced to admit. “Lainie’s really nice. Warm and kind. Not a major brain perhaps but competent. She’ll develop beautifully, too. She’s a country woman above anything else. She knows how to continue a tradition.”

“And you don’t?” Rebecca turned to scrutinise her new sister-in-law, loyalty in her eyes.

“I think Rafe has convinced himself I’m another Fee,” Ally explained sadly. “God knows I love Fee. We all do. It’s hard not to. But Fee always took care of herself and her career above every other concern. Fran must have been a very sad and lonely little girl, for all her father tried to make it up to her. I suspect her life now isn’t as glamorous as it’s supposed to be, any more than mine. To love and be loved is a woman’s greatest joy. Children her greatest achievement. And my biological clock is ticking away.”

“And mine.” Rebecca sounded as though she had just the right plan to stop it in its tracks. “I had to avoid falling pregnant with my previous husband Martyn, our life being what it was, but Brod is my dream come true.” She picked up a silk cushion and hugged it. “I feel today my life begins with him. My real life with me functioning the way I am, not keeping everything locked up inside. My love for Brod has invaded every aspect of my life. Loving has taken away the pain.”

“I can understand that.” Ally nodded. “You’ve been wonderful for him, too. Brod and I have also had our bad times. Now,” Ally paused, seeking to lighten the conversation, “what are you going to do with your hair?” Rebecca had removed all the ornaments.

“I’d thought I’d leave it long,” Rebecca picked up a brush, whisking it vigorously through her waterfall of hair. “Brod likes it this way.” Finally she turned. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” Ally smiled, handing Rebecca her fuchsia jacket.

‘I mustn’t forget my bouquet.” Rebecca looked back at the exquisite arrangement lying on top of a small circular table. “I want my chief bridesmaid to catch it.”

And so Ally did, though Lainie was powerfully disappointed. She, who had manipulated herself into a good catching position, saw the bouquet sailing right for her, but somehow at the very last minute, never mind how, misjudged her timing. The bouquet cleared her outstretched hands though she was sure she stood on someone’s toe to get it and landed against Ally’s flawless, infinitely sexy, breast.

The irrepressible Aunt Fee, who was too much, Lainie and her mother had always thought, burst out clapping in a kind of triumph. “Isn’t that great?” she demanded of the tall silver-haired man, exuding Englishness, who had certainly never left her side the entire afternoon. “You know what that means, Ally, don’t you? You’re next.”

“Don’t forget me, Mamma,” Francesca laughed, holding up a single white orchid that had separated itself from all the rest. She felt wonderfully happy and alive anticipating the long evening with Grant beside her. He was so completely different from anyone she knew at home. So strong, so straightforward, so self-reliant, full of his hopes and plans. She couldn’t seem to get enough of his company.

“Congratulations, darling,” Rafe murmured in Ally’s right ear. He was smiling sardonically, showing his perfect white teeth. “Possibly it’s to someone you haven’t yet met.”

“Oh, that makes me so cross!” Lainie interrupted, turning round to them. “It’s not as though you even tried, Ally, when I pray for a good husband every day of my life. No joke, Rafe,” she cautioned him, “so stop laughing.”

“Sorry, pet,” he answered lazily. “Catching things was never your strong point but Ally here, was raised as a tomboy. She has an excellent eye.”

“She’s so amazingly beautiful she doesn’t need to catch any bridal bouquet,” Lainie half grumbled, looking up at him with intense helpless delight. Rafe was always charming and agreeable to her but she could scarcely believe someone like Rafe Cameron, so eligible in every way, could ever find her sexually attractive. Not after Ally who was like a bright flame, but—well everyone in the Outback knew their story. The reason for the split up. Ally, like her fabulous, over-the-top aunt, had wanted to become an actress. Simply dumping one of the most gorgeous men who had ever lived.

“How could she do such a thing?” Lainie’s mother had often asked, shocked. “I don’t suppose I should say it, but bolting seems to run in the family.”

Now Ally was a star who won gold Logies for best actress. Lainie loved her show and tried never to miss an episode. Ally was the sort of person, who could easily make the big-time like Cate Blanchett and take on the world. She was lost to Rafe and he had to accept that. Besides, Rafe had started to spend much more time over at Victoria Springs.

“Don’t be modest, Lainie,” her mother had encouraged her. “You’ll make any man a wonderful wife.”

Possibly, but she only wanted Rafe.

So Lainie hoped and prayed and didn’t enter into any other relationship. The worst part, she truly loved both of them. Ally and Rafe. She would have to have a talk with Ally as soon as she possibly could. Find out the lay of the land.

Tumultuous cheering broke out as Rebecca and Brod climbed into the limousine that was to take them to the airport. Everybody began to wave. Ally, hair flying, holding the little flower girl’s hand, ran once more to the car and leant in to land yet another kiss on bride and groom. “Take care, you two. Have a wonderful time! I’ll be expecting to hear from you,” Ally said.

Rebecca smiled at her and her small stepsister. “Darling little Christina! I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you both so much.”

“With me by your side?” Brod, looking unbelievably handsome in a well cut grey suit, laughed at his bride.

“You know what I mean, darling.” She leaned to kiss him, a kiss that tasted of champagne and strawberries.

“It’s a good thing I do.” Brod’s eyes left his bride’s beautiful face for a moment. “Take care, Ally. You’ll be hearing from us often. I’ve asked Rafe to keep an eye on Kimbara. When he can find the time. Ted’s a good man but it makes me happy knowing Rafe is on hand. I’m grateful to him for so many things.”

“So you should be!” Rafe, overhearing, called with affection. “Have the best time in the world, you two. Now take it away.” He signalled to the chauffeur as the bridal party threw more confetti. Fee wiped it laughingly from her own and David Westbury’s clothes then grasped the little flower girl’s hand while Rafe got an arm around Ally’s narrow waist drawing her backwards so he could shut the limousine door.

Heat like an electric charge, rushed up his arm as it came in contact with her body. Heat to his heart, to his head, to his loins. For a moment he almost despised himself with his reaction. This was like a haunting. There had to be some way to exorcise Ally. He let go of her before his whole body dissolved.

They all watched until the limousine was lost to sight then everyone began to walk back to the house, those that weren’t going on to the theatre starting to say their goodbyes although Rebecca’s father assured them they were welcome to stay as long as they liked, an offer a lot took up.

Lainie waited until the powder room cleared before she decided to conduct her own little investigation. She had to find out for sure if Ally still carried a torch for Rafe. She knew in her heart she would find it hard to come between them if they still cared for one another. Though one didn’t hear too much about grand passions any more, thank the Lord. She could talk to Ally. Woman to woman. They went back a long way. Big TV star or not, a member of one of the great pastoral families. Well, a patrician in this part of the world, Ally was very down-to-earth and friendly.

“You look wonderful, Ally. Superb,” Lainie said for starters, her large, soft, brown eyes admiring as she watched Ally make a few minor repairs to her make-up. Gosh, how did she get her eyeshadow like that? It made her slanting green eyes look like emeralds.

“Thanks, Lainie.” Ally gave her lovely smile. “It’s been such a beautiful day. A day I’ll remember with great joy. A little sadness, too.” She began to remove the decorations from a braid. They’d be too much for the theatre. Fran had removed hers, twisting her beautiful hair into a very elegant knot. Maybe she could do the same even if she couldn’t get the same result. Fran’s hair was wonderfully manageable, hers was downright difficult. Ally experimented for a moment until she became aware of Lainie’s expression. “For heaven’s sake, Lainie, why are you staring at me like that?” she asked wryly. “Has my mascara run?”

When it actually came to it, Lainie’s mouth went dry. “Sorry, pal. I apologise. I was staring, I know. You must be used to it, anyway. You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad, either,” Ally reminded her. “That dress looks wonderful on you.”

“I haven’t been able to eat to get into it,” Lainie freely admitted. “Ally, I just wanted to ask you something personal—I’d never ask if I didn’t think…I mean I’d never…”

“You want to know if Rafe and I still mean something to each other?” Ally had a shot at it.

“Right on,” Lainie sighed in relief. “Please don’t tell me if you don’t want to. I’m not a person who is ever going to be called confrontational.”

“Fairly forthright nevertheless, my girl.” Ally felt she no longer had the energy to fool around with her hair. She would have to leave it as it was. “Lainie, love,” she explained patiently, “you know as well as anyone Rafe and I are an old story.”

“But you were wonderful together.” Perversely Lainie mourned. “Mum thought you had to be nuts.”

“Unfortunately I was.” Ally looked her regret. “But that was years ago. I was younger than you are now. I thought I needed more time before I could face so much responsibility. Rafe was master of all he surveyed. We all know what the Camerons are like. I wanted to find myself, show the world what I could do.”

“Oh, I know, Ally.” Lainie was understanding. “You wanted to be like your aunty. She was very famous though you don’t hear much of her these days. But those challenges lost you Rafe.”

“You don’t have to sound pleased about it,” Ally said reproachfully.

“Oh, I’m not pleased.” Lainie’s reply was genuine and hasty. “I feel sad. Like everyone else did. We thought we were guaranteed a huge wedding on Kimbara. You might even have chosen me for a bridesmaid.”

That really shook Ally. It could have been a possibility. Now she was looking on Lainie as a possible successor.

“Are you still in love with him?” Lainie wanted everything made clear to her.

“What do you want me to say?” Ally held out a hand for Lainie to get up. It was time to go. “Rafe will always have a place in my heart. The Camerons and the Kinrosses are almost kin. We grew up together. But things happen. Rafe and I have changed. We’re different people now. I have my career. It’s no secret I’ve had movie offers.”

Ally stayed a hand as Lainie’s pretty mouth framed “What?” “Rafe is wedded to Opal Downs. Like Brod, his inheritance is his life. We’ve moved on as people.”

Lainie’s cheeks flushed as wild relief swept her. She clasped Ally’s hand tightly. “So you don’t mind if…?”

“You have my blessing, Lainie.” Ally freed herself gently from Lainie’s surprisingly strong grip. “But I should add some sisterly advice. I don’t want to see you hurt, either. Rafe has any number of women clamouring for his attention. At least four of them are probably waiting patiently for us outside the door.”

“But he was having a ball with me,” Lainie argued.

“That’s what one does at a wedding, Lainie,” Ally warned her. “Have a ball.”

Lainie considered that for a time. “You’re the only one who worried me,” she said finally. “Mum woke me up to the fact Rafe might consider me for a girlfriend.”

“So good luck, then,” Ally answered feeling she had done her best. Having a ball at a wedding didn’t add up to a romance. Or did it?

The theatre show was as brilliantly entertaining as the reviews had promised. Everyone came out of the theatre feeling a flood of warmth, smiling, humming snatches of the catchy tunes.

“You’re coming on with us to the nightclub, aren’t you, Ally?” Francesca asked as they stood amid the swirling crowd in the foyer.

Ally was long used to all the glances of recognition that came her way. In another minute someone would come up and ask for an autograph. Meanwhile she smiled at her cousin, anxious now to be off. She certainly didn’t want to see any more of Rafe with Lainie in tow. “I have to fly back to Sydney in the morning, Fran,” she explained. “I have a pretty hectic schedule next week.”

“What a pity. I’d have loved you to come.” Francesca couldn’t hide her disappointment even as she understood.

“So how are you getting home?” Grant, who was holding Francesca’s slender arm, turned his tawny head to see if he could catch sight of his brother. “Rafe is somewhere back there. Maybe he could give you a lift?”

“No, that’s okay.” Ally smiled back. She realised Grant, like her own brother, Brod, had never given up hope she and Rafe would some day be reunited. “I can catch a cab.”

“You can share ours.” Francesca didn’t like the idea of Ally’s going home on her own.

“You’re going the other way, love,” Ally reminded her.

“That doesn’t matter.” Francesca looked up to Grant for confirmation.

“Of course not.” He was more than happy to oblige. “We can drop Ally off then come back into town. Where is it, Ally? Some friend lent you their unit, didn’t they?”

Ally nodded. “Pam is holidaying on the Barrier Reef for a week. It seemed nicer than staying at a hotel. I like to be a bit anonymous.” Keep my whereabouts a secret, she thought a little grimly.

“Ah, there’s Rafe now. Rafe?” Grant called to his brother who was clearly enjoying something Lainie was saying to him.

“Be with you.” Rafe lifted a long arm, turning to shake the hand of a male guest who was moving off.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea if Lainie falls in love with Rafe,” Grant announced out of the blue.

“You think she might?” Fran looked like she’d never considered it for a minute.

“I’m sure she already has,” Ally confirmed, turning to a youngster who came up with a program to be autographed.

“Gee, thanks, Ally, that’s cool!” The boy, who had to be all of fourteen, whistled behind his braces.

“Does he know you?” Grant looked after the departing fan.

“No. He just thinks he does.” Ally smiled. “I’ve had complete strangers come up and start talking as though they’d known me all my life.”

“I don’t think I could get used to it,” Grant said with a slight frown. “Anyway, to get back to Lainie. Rafe isn’t flirting with her, he’s only being nice.”

“Well he’s got her up in the sky somewhere. Floating on cloud nine,” Ally offered wryly. “Mind you, Lainie is sweet. She’s entitled to her dreams.”

Grant wrinkled his broad forehead. “Just between you and me. Rafe needs a great deal more than Lainie can offer.” He laughed shortly, the tiniest spark of anger in his hazel eyes. “Do you honestly think she’s woman enough for him?” He held Ally’s gaze in his direct manner.

“Don’t ask me—it’s too close to home.”

Francesca stared from one to the other, looking thoroughly intrigued. “Are you suggesting someone should tell poor Lainie to back off, Grant, dear?”

“It might save her a lot of heartache.” Grant looked serious. “No one wants Lainie to get hurt.”

Lainie, smiling brilliantly, was starting towards them and Ally began to brace herself for what was to come.

“I’m trying to talk Rafe into joining us at the nightclub,” Lainie announced. “You have to help me.” She appealed to Ally and Fran.

“Rafe’s really not one for nightclubs, Lainie,” Grant tried to warn her.

“But on such a night.” Lainie clutched at Francesca’s arm in her enthusiastic fashion. “Quite a few of us are going on. There’s absolutely no need for him to rush off.”

“Well, I have to,” Ally told her lightly. “We start shooting very early Monday morning.”

“I’d love to get a bit part in one of your shows,” Lainie confessed. “But I suppose I’m too short.”

That struck Grant as utterly irrelevant and he said so.

“It was just a thought.” A little warily Lainie eyed Rafe’s younger brother, knowing Grant Cameron wasn’t as sweetly tolerant as Rafe was. Grant was one of those men who didn’t suffer fools gladly.

Into the group came the rangy, elegant Rafe, looking super relaxed. The overhead lighting gilded his fine features and played around the smile on his sexy curving mouth. “So is everyone off?”

“You’re coming, then?” Lainie rejoiced, all but rubbing her cheek against his slate blue jacket. “It’s wonderful to know I could persuade you.”

“Well…” Rafe looked down a moment at her fair head. “Lainie, I find it hard to disappoint you, but I’m flying off home in the morning. Grant is staying on to line up some more business, but I have to get back to the station. As well, I promised Brod I’d keep an eye on Kimbara. You’ve got a dozen people to keep you company,” he consoled her. “Fran and Grant are going on. So is Mark Farrell. I thought you two got on rather well.” He referred to the groomsman. “And Ally must do this sort of thing all the time.”

“You obviously haven’t heard about my killing schedule,” Ally said in a wry voice. “I have to get lots of beauty sleep so I can get up the next morning without telltale bags under my eyes.”

“Bags? Not you,” Lainie retorted.

“So can I drop you off at your hotel?” Rafe looked on sardonically. “You’re staying with Fee and Francesca?”

“Not this time.” Ally shook her head. “Fee has commandeered the best suite. Davey has another.”

“I have to settle for deluxe,” Francesca smiled.

“And a friend has lent me her place while she’s away,” Ally added.

“Rafe are you sure you won’t come?” Lainie persisted, desperately wanting it to happen.

“Sorry, pet.” He gave her his maddening nonchalant smile.

“Well, that takes care of that then,” Grant said with satisfaction. “We were going to drop Ally off, Rafe, but I’m sure she’s happy for you to take over.”

“I don’t have to go,” Lainie looked about vaguely, wishing secretly Rafe would simply take her off to bed.

“Sure you do!” Grant took hold of her arm purposefully, with Francesca, blue eyes twinkling, taking the other. “Let the good times roll.”

Grant looked back at his brother and Ally and tilted a tawny eyebrow.

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