Bride at Briar's Ridge Read online

  Despite her wretched disappointment Lilli laughed. ‘Hey, it’s me, remember? Your sister. The last person in the world to trust you. Hell, I remember the tricks you used to play on Alana. That didn’t stop her from landing Guy. Now you want to play your little tricks on Daniela.’

  ‘And what evidence do you have to support this?’ Violette demanded in her most crushing Big-Sister voice.

  ‘The evidence of our whole lives flashing before our eyes,’ Lilli answered quietly. ‘Remember that girl—the scholarship girl—Fiona Scott at school? Poor old Fiona! Didn’t you cause her some grief! You’ve been a bad influence on me, Vi. You’ve made me do a whole lot of things I didn’t want to do. I’ve been gutless. Too easily led. Okay, I took a real shine to Linc. What girl wouldn’t? He’s gorgeous. You felt the same. Only one problem—and it’s huge. Daniela is the one he’s interested in.’

  ‘Daniela who’s going back to London, or have you forgotten?’ Violette retorted, absolutely seething at her sister’s disloyalty.

  ‘I’ll believe that when it happens,’ Lilli replied. ‘My advice is save yourself for another guy. There must be someone out there who doesn’t know or hasn’t heard you’re so horrid. I’m going back to Sydney tomorrow.’

  ‘Good!’ Violette responded hotly. ‘Then we might be able to get a bit of peace around here.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A COUPLE of weeks later Daniela took a call from Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance. It was Alana, sounding absolutely on top of the world, her voice as clear as if she was ringing from Sydney. Daniela had received two postcards from the honeymooners, one from Paris, another from Rome, and now she was delighted to take the call.

  The two young women chatted for a few minutes, with Alana filling her in on all the wonderful sights she had seen. She raved about the Uffizi, one of the world’s most splendid art galleries, and said the food was to die for. Their honeymoon was the experience of a lifetime. But Guy wanted to talk to Daniela. Alana handed over the phone.

  Guy’s smooth cultured voice came on the line. They talked for a little while, and then Guy sprang his big surprise. His chef, Lee, at the Winery Restaurant, needed to return home to Hong Kong as soon as possible. His father, who had been in poor health for some time, was declining and his ageing mother needed him to be on hand. He estimated he would need to be away a month, maybe a little longer. Would Daniela be interested in taking over the position of Executive Chef in his absence? There were two chefs under Lee, and they would be remaining in place. They could handle most weekdays. It was the Friday and Saturday nights Guy was most concerned with. He named a figure no chef would turn down, but didn’t expect Daniela to consent on the spot. He would give her another day to decide.

  The offer was very tempting. At the Winery Restaurant she could go beyond the norm, which was to say the menus could be far more creative than what she was currently planning at the family bistro. She immediately thought of French-Japanese combinations, or her own interpretation of Japanese food. Her style was drawn from French origins—after all, she had received her training in Paris—and she understood the French kitchen. Although even Japanese chefs described themselves as French chefs.

  The Winery had a full client list. If one wanted a table a reservation had to be made well in advance. It would be a challenge, but first she would have to speak to her parents, who were pretty much relying on her to come up with the kind of dishes that kept customers flowing into the bistro. Then again, she could overcome that problem by formulating written menus and instructions without actually doing the cooking herself. Her parents had been amazingly quick to pick up on her techniques. Whatever she had asked, they had done very well—if not the first time, then certainly the second. The sous chefs at the Winery had to be first class, with a high level of technique, and the chances that she could do a lot of directing those without actually having to demonstrate were excellent.

  It wasn’t her habit to write things down, but she could easily make a start. When Guy rang late the following afternoon she said what he was hoping to hear—yes.

  Gerald had hired a car in Sydney, then followed the route to the Hunter Valley—which he had to admit was beautiful. So much so, he made a stop overnight to sample the best of the food and the wine. Surprisingly good. This was his first trip to Australia—the far end of the world. They had the climate and Sydney Harbour, but he had not been prepared for just how much more Australia offered. Sydney was a flourishing metropolis, a world-class city, blessed with the magnificent harbour and glorious beaches within easy reach. He had even been impressed by the massive Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House that occupied a prominent harbourside position. He’d had an excellent view from his luxury hotel.

  Nevertheless it was beyond bizarre that his Daniela would want to bury herself not in the metropolis, but in the sticks. This Wangaree Valley, his destination, was still farther on from the Hunter. Who in their right mind would leave London and all it had to offer for a rural valley on the other side of the world, no matter how beautiful and prosperous? There was no logic to it. Rome he might have believed. Not some place called Wangaree Valley, which he had been told was something of a stronghold for the descendants of Australia’s sheep barons.

  He had led this conversation at Reception, and the very attractive brunette behind the desk had been most forthcoming with information. He had always had a way with women. She had even named a prominent family in the area, the Radcliffes. For a sickening moment his mind had jumped to a connection between Daniela and a Radcliffe, only in the next breath the brunette had told him Guy Radcliffe, the current owner of Wangaree Station, had recently married a girl called Alana Caulfield…Calloway—something like that.

  It should be very easy to find her. For the past couple of months he had been unable to think of anything but finding Daniela. One couldn’t lose a woman like that without feeling a tremendous jolt. In his thirty-two years of life he had never experienced anything like what he felt for Daniela. He had even come around to the idea of marrying her, if that was what she wanted. His frame of mind hadn’t lent itself to his work. He wasn’t raking in the usual commissions. Finally the head of the firm, who just happened to be his uncle Philip, had told him to take a break.

  ‘I can’t let you handle anything of significance, Gerald. There’s something on your mind. Go ahead and sort yourself out.’

  Some part of him registered he had treated Daniela badly. Obviously she had become deeply disturbed by his habit of turning up wherever she was, and by the silent phone calls. There was nothing he could do about all that. It had happened. What he had to do now was convince her he had changed. That she had the chance of a wonderful life with him on a grander scale than anything she could possibly aspire to. Offer marriage. Even his difficult to impress mother had commented on how truly beautiful Daniela was. And such an air! Daniela should ask herself this question: where would she find better?

  After his mother had died so tragically young, Linc had doubted he would ever find true happiness again, find that wonderful contentment he had felt as a boy when he was with his mother. She had been so lovely, so sunny-natured, so full of fun and understanding. Such women were unforgettable. His mother had been taken from him and Chuck, and after her death their father had rarely spoken her name. His dad was one of those men who had to do the macho thing and have little flutters on the side, but he had genuinely loved his wife. That was until her illness had robbed her of her health and her beauty.

  Linc was sure his dad didn’t love Cheryl. What he felt for Cheryl was lust, pure and simple—plus there was the bonus of having a glamorous young wife on his arm. That meant something to his dad and men like him. Maybe they felt driven to prove something? Either way, he didn’t admire his dad. He wished he did, but he didn’t. End of story.

  His own relationship with Daniela had changed everything. Suddenly he was feeling on top of the world. Full of zest, full of plans. Both of them were working extremely hard—he at Briar
’s Ridge, where he slogged until his body ached. He had taken on a middling enterprise. He intended to make it big. And Daniela had taken on the job of Executive Chef at Guy’s Winery Restaurant. She was pulling in even bigger crowds, some coming from as far away as Sydney. She had spoken to him about it before giving Guy her answer. Her family hadn’t wanted to spoil her chances. Neither did he. The only problem was they had less and less time together, so what they did have was doubly precious.

  Tonight he was driving into town to her apartment. A quiet dinner; just the two of them. Perfect. His heart literally danced in his chest, pulses thrumming like guitars in his ears. They would talk about all that had been happening to them—both of them took a great interest in what the other was doing—and afterwards they would make love. He had never thought of sex as being as addictive as a powerful drug but he was sure what he and Daniela shared together must be on that level. The natural progression from that, in his view, was marriage. He didn’t just want to share a table and a bed with her. He wanted to share his entire life. He wanted her to be the mother of his children. Their children would be a mix of them. They would love them to bits and bring them up right.

  He knew in his heart his mother would approve his choice. But neither he nor Daniela had discussed the future, so he decided it was high time to prepare the way. He wasn’t going to rush her. There were still some of his questions she wouldn’t answer, but he truly believed there was a future for them. How could he let go of this miracle in his life?

  He had his own key to her apartment. Even if there were times she was late arriving home, he could always let himself in.

  Carl usually arrived right on time. Tonight he was a good twenty minutes early. She didn’t mind in the least. She couldn’t wait to see him. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. Get everything out in the open. No secrets between them. Instinct told her there was something in his relationship with his stepmother she needed reassuring about. She knew how certain people could scar you. Maybe, like herself, Carl had put himself out of reach of a person who could hurt him.

  Swiftly she removed the apron that protected her pretty dress and hurried out into the small foyer, responding to his knock. Clearly he was having trouble finding his keys. She threw open the door, a lovely welcoming smile on her face.

  Instantly she lost it. The past had reached out and caught up with her.

  Gerald Templeton stood outside her door—handsome, debonair, immaculately dressed, dark wavy hair barbered to perfection, an answering smile on his face. He was carrying a sheaf of long-stemmed red roses which he tried to urge into her nerveless arms.

  ‘Gerald, go away!’ she cried in a low throbbing tone. ‘I don’t want this. I have absolutely nothing to say to you.’ Hadn’t she left London feeling emotionally stripped?

  His chiselled face and the soft upper-class voice were full of pleading. ‘Daniela, listen—please!’

  ‘No way.’ After the way he had persecuted her? She went to shut the door, but he forcibly held it open.

  ‘I know this is a tremendous surprise,’ he said quickly, a lot of emotions struggling in his good-looking face. ‘Please don’t send me away. I should have let you know I was coming. I’m in Australia on business and I thought it might be better this way—face to face. How are you? You look more beautiful than ever. Please let me in for a moment. Is that so much to ask? Please, Daniela, please. Can’t we talk?’

  Life returned to her limbs. ‘I don’t know how you found me, Gerald,’ she responded tautly, ‘but it should have become obvious, even to you, that I didn’t want to be found. I’ll ask you again to go away.’

  He tried a smile, as though this might calm her down. ‘Good lord, you wouldn’t want to get rid of me so easily, would you? I’ve come all this way—mostly to apologise for what an insensitive brute I was. I have no excuse except to say I was temporarily off my head. I couldn’t bear for our relationship to end, especially the way it did. All I’m asking is a few minutes of your time. I think you’ll find it worth your while.’

  Now the familiar arrogance was back in play. ‘Believe that and you’ll believe anything, Gerald,’ she said. ‘I accept your apology. Your behaviour was both appalling and threatening. Now I’d like you to go. I have a guest who will be arriving at any minute.’

  ‘You’re cooking dinner?’ Despite himself, he couldn’t keep the lash of jealousy out of his voice. He could smell the delicious aromas, but that gave him no pleasure. Of course she was cooking dinner. For a man. There would always be a man.

  She turned her head briefly over her shoulder. ‘Yes. So—’

  She got no further.

  He pushed his way in, casting the beautiful, fragrant roses aside and grasping her arm, compelling her into the living room.

  ‘Get away from me!’ Daniela cried, breaking free, horrified by his actions.

  ‘Daniela, calm down—please calm down,’ he begged, his expression imploring. ‘The last thing in the world I would do is hurt you. How could you think that? I’m here to ask you to marry me.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  His dark eyes lit. He stared back at her, waiting. Even to his own ears the offer was mind-blowing. She was probably swept off her feet. ‘You know you’re very fond of me. What we had was good. Given a little time, I know I can make you love me.’

  She knew she was under threat. Gerald might look as respectable as they came, but he was unstable. ‘You must be insane,’ she said. ‘You can’t make me do anything. What about your fiancée? Lady Laurella? Or have you lost her as well?’

  Gerald studied her, told her to sit down. Daniela remained on her feet. ‘Laurella had my parents’ backing,’ he said. ‘I thought I needed her, but I find I don’t. I was trying to please the parents. I’ve thought this through and through, Daniela. I’m here to beg you to forgive me. I want you to come back with me. We’re meant to be together.’

  He reached for her, but Daniela’s temper, that she had spent her lifetime keeping under control, flared out of bounds. She wasn’t frightened any more. Carl would come. Carl would take care of Gerald Templeton. Everything would be all right.

  Linc left in plenty of time to make the drive into town. He was halfway there when he came on an accident. A small car had run off the road and hit a tree. A 4WD was parked on the opposite side of the road. The occupants, he guessed, were the middle-aged couple several feet from the crashed car. He picked up the scene in his headlights. There was no way he could glide past.

  He stopped on the steep verge and applied the handbrake. ‘Has an ambulance been called?’ He moved swiftly to look inside the car. He checked the ignition was off. A young fellow was slumped against the wheel, mercifully alive, but moaning in pain. There was blood on his face, his head, and down the front of his shirt. He didn’t respond when Linc spoke to him, asking how badly he thought he was hurt. To make matters worse Linc had no difficulty picking up the reek of alcohol.

  The woman came up to Linc, a sensible-looking countrywoman. ‘We rang the ambulance right away. He’s hardly more than a child. Been drinking, it seems. He must have been speeding and lost control of the wheel. You’re the new owner of Briar’s Ridge, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right, ma’am. Linc Mastermann.’

  ‘Marjorie Beecham.’ She introduced her husband, Alan, who had joined them. The husband, much older, looked very shaken. ‘We were just on our way back home,’ he said. ‘We saw it happen.’

  ‘I don’t think we should move him,’ Linc said, thinking there could be internal injuries, at least a broken rib.

  ‘That’s what we thought,’ Mrs Beecham replied. ‘Might do more harm than good.’

  As they were speaking the ambulance arrived, making a U-turn and then parking in front of Linc’s car. A weight of anxiety was taken off their minds. They stayed until the young man had been checked over, then put into the ambulance. The ambulance driver sketched a salute, hopped in the vehicle, then moved off.

  The upshot was that Lin
c was late arriving at Daniela’s apartment. He locked his car, then took a step back, glancing up at her floor. The balcony lights were on, flooding over an array of plants and a prolifically flowering white bougainvillaea in a glossy ceramic pot. He would let himself in.

  Impetuously he bounded in and out of the empty lift, filled with a wonderful sense of wellbeing. He moved fast down the corridor, his body language expressing a real sense of purpose and his urgency to see her. He wanted to hold her face in his hands. He wanted to kiss her until she was swooning in his arms.

  He tapped on the door first to alert her of his arrival, then unlocked it, calling, ‘It’s me.’ Almost at once he knew something was wrong. ‘Daniela?’

  She usually hurried out to greet him. His eyes fell on a sheaf of red roses that looked as if they had been tossed on the floor. The head of a rose had broken off, to roll a short distance away. Now, that was distinctly odd.

  ‘Daniela?’ At once he was as tense as a jungle cat, his muscles coiled to spring.

  ‘It’s all right, Carl.’

  Sudden relief swept through him. Her voice had come from the bedroom.

  ‘You scared me,’ he called, walking down the passageway. ‘You shouldn’t do that.’ Even as he moved, he tried to think it through. Her voice had sounded different…strained? Then there were the roses. One would hardly leave roses lying on the floor. That bothered him.

  The bedroom door was half shut. He pushed it open, at the same time keeping well back against the wall. Two people were in the room. Daniela was standing at the far side of the room, arms wrapped protectively around herself; a tall, suavely handsome guy stood immobilised opposite her. The bed was fully made up with a gold silk brocade quilt and an array of silk cushions. It was the only barrier between them.

  ‘What the hell?’ Linc asked discordantly. He felt stupefied for a moment, none too certain what was going on.