Outback Wives Wanted!: Wedding at Wangaree Valley / Bride at Briar's Ridge / Cattle Rancher, Secret Son. Margaret Way

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Outback Wives Wanted!: Wedding at Wangaree Valley / Bride at Briar's Ridge / Cattle Rancher, Secret Son - Margaret Way

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was standing beside him to receive their guests. She too possessed the same charisma. It worked like a beacon. How extraordinarily seductive was grace and breeding! And the Radcliffes had received more than their fair share.

      Alexandra was the first to greet them, Guy being caught up with a few extra words to the couple in front of them. She flashed a lovely welcoming smile, putting out her hand. Huge soulful dark eyes lit up her magnolia-skinned face. “Lana, how lovely to see you again.” It wasn’t just the usual thing said on such occasions. Alana could see Alex really meant it, and felt warmed by it. “And how are you, Simon?’

      Simon’s tanned skin pinked with pleasure. He made a funny little obeisance. “Great—just great, Alex.” It was obvious Simon was in some awe of his cousins.

      The two young women exchanged feather light kisses. “I’m only here for the weekend,” Alexandra said, holding Alana’s hands. “You must come over tomorrow and have lunch—mustn’t she, Guy?’

      Now the Lord of the Valley was free to give her his attention. He bent his face to her with languorous, almost regal grace.

      It was the most stunning face imaginable. Alana put up a valiant struggle to meet that brilliant glance head on.

      “It’d be a pleasure to have you, Alana!” he assured her, his veiled eyes moving over her.

      She felt the impact of his gaze so keenly it might just as well have been his hands touching her. Part of her was ready to swoon. The weak, womanly part. Wasn’t it the curse of womanhood to swoon over such men? She’d be darned if she would. She responded with a few graceful words of thanks.

      “That’s all settled, then.” He smiled at her, rather ironically, she thought, but perfectly relaxed.

      Oh, he had a beautiful mouth! It drew the eye irresistibly. Little brackets framed it on either side, drawing extra attention to its sexy shape. A touch ashamed, she fought down the little flares of excitement but found it a real effort. Everything about him sent a thrill through her. Her heart didn’t just canter when Guy was around. It broke into a gallop. She just hoped to God he didn’t know it. He had far too many female worshippers already. And a lot of them would be here tonight. She was bound to collide with her cousin, Violette. Violette had very sharp eyes.

      “I want to know how life’s been treating you,” Alex was saying.

      Alana turned to her. “I’m always kept busy, Alex.” She smiled into that beautiful, poignant face.

      Guy offered another comment designed to do damage. It never stopped. “May I say how beautiful you look, Alana?” He spoke in his usual smooth, self-assured way, yet she had never seen quite the type of look he was giving her. It was sort of full-on, and it provoked another chaotic flurry of sensations. She knew they were going to take a good while to settle down.

      “Why, thank you, Guy!” she countered, almost as if they were sparring partners.

       No use channelling your charm on me, Guy Radcliffe.

      Yet his charm was drawing her into some powerful whirlpool. She had to make a serious attempt not to be caught up in it. She knew for a certainty it would be dangerous. She didn’t need Violette to tell her that.

      Simon chose that moment to clamp a firm arm around her shoulders, exclaiming with great gusto, “Doesn’t she just? I love the dress she’s wearing. Her mother made it for her eighteenth birthday party, remember?”

      Alana could have kicked her dear friend in the shins—only she saw recognition of her annoyance in Guy’s amused eyes. “I do,” he replied. “Your mother was very gifted, Alana.”

      “Indeed she was,” Alex added gracefully. “I treasure the beautiful shawl she made for me.”

      Alana blinked back a shimmer of tears. Guy had been invited to her eighteenth birthday party. Not Alexandra. Alex had already moved to Sydney by that time. Her abrupt departure for the bright lights had come as a big shock to the Valley. Everyone had thought Alex loved her home. But Alex had left them. Alana’s party had been held at the Radcliffe Estate’s award winning restaurant. It had been an unforgettable night. When Guy had presented her with her present—a porcelain Art Nouveau statuette of a nymph with long golden hair—he had bent to kiss her cheek.

      It had been a token birthday gesture, but she still remembered how it had felt. What could she call it? The very essence of sensation? It had touched every part of her, as if she was naked, even reaching down into the most intimate part of her body. She had never realised until then that a kiss on the cheek could cause such an immense erotic rush. It had been quite scary. It still was, when she thought of it—which was usually at night. Guy Radcliffe was the one person who had ever had such a galvanic effect on her. It had to be what, exactly? Fascination? Infatuation? Neither answer satisfied. It certainly didn’t venture into the realm of love. As she told herself frequently, there was a lot of distance between her life and Guy’s.

      “Come through and meet our guests,” he invited now, his dark eyes still lingering on her in that special way.

      What was she supposed to do about it? She wasn’t in her element flirting.

      “Yes, do.” Alex took her arm companionably. “The Hartmanns are lovely people. I hope you’re going to enter The Naming, this year, Alana. You could win the trip to beautiful Napa Valley.”

      Mercifully Alex didn’t add, You could take Simon.

      The huge reception rooms swam with bright faces and happy voices. It was a smallish function—only around forty people had been invited. Alana knew them all, except for Guy’s special guests, who turned out to be a delightful couple in their early thirties, good looking, outgoing, and very friendly. The wife was wearing a particularly stunning yellow chiffon dress that moulded her willowy body beautifully. Alana caught Violette studying it in detail. For once she understood Violette’s avid interest in fashion. She would have loved to own a dress like that herself—especially as yellow was her colour.

      “Ah, there you are, Lana,” Violette said, when she encountered her. “Surely you could have risen to a new dress, dear? What is that, exactly? Muddy gold? Or is it muddy green? I’m sure I’ve seen it before.” Her blue eyes bored into the lovely shot-silk taffeta of Alana’s dress. “You know, you’ve given a whole new meaning to the word thrifty!”

      “And you to bitchy, Vi, dear,” Alana returned, long used to her cousin’s caustic style and almost bullet-proof against it. “But I do love what you’ve got on.”

      It would have been too churlish not to mention it. Violette was wearing a couture strapless number in aubergine. It suited her wonderfully well. All three Denby sisters were blonde and blue eyed, but they didn’t boast Alana’s magnificent honey gold mane. Rose came closest, but neither she nor Lilli were present that evening. They were staying with a socialite aunt in Sydney.

      Simon took her into supper, which was simply scrumptious—as expected from the restaurant’s top chef, who was handling the catering. Across a table laden with delicious food, she saw Kieran talking to Alex. The really odd thing about Alex and Kieran was that, although they had known one another all their lives, these days they acted like strangers. Even now, with their eyes glued on one another, neither was smiling. Alex was tall for a woman, taller yet in silver stiletto evening shoes that matched her short glittery dress, but Kieran, at six-three, easily topped her.

      Both she and Kieran took after

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