The Bridesmaid's Wedding

by Margaret Way

  They set up camp beside the stream as Rafe couldn’t find a suitable cave on the lower slopes. With, great efficiency he went about making up the fire, then when it

  was burning brightly, he rigged a tarpaulin using stout boughs to make it act as a windbreak. Another smaller tarp served as a ground cover, over which went one of

  the rugs. Station vehicles always carried such equipment in case of emergencies and it worked well tonight.

  “Now for the food,” Ally said, on her knees busily setting out the contents of the old hamper she and Brod had used as children. “Let’s see.” She couldn’t keep her hunger out of her voice. “Bread rolls.” Ally deli

  cately sniffed them. “Nice and fresh. Cheryl must have made them this aftemoon. Lord, she’s forgotten the butter. A block of cheese. Chicken, a chunk of ham, fruit. No bottle of wine. That’s dreadful. We really needed a bottle of wine. And God bless her, nearly half a fruit cake.”

  “Sounds like a feast.” Rafe grinned.

  “We could toast the rolls. Burn them to crisp.”

  “No thanks, Ally. I’ll take them as they come. I’m surprised you’re so chirpy. I know you weren’t lost, but it couldn’t have been pleasant.”

  “I’m normally chirpy,” she said. “Have you forgotten? Come and sit next to me. Come on.” She grabbed his hand, pulled him down to join her on the rug. ‘Pretend we’re kids again.”

  “Until you get some of your primitive urges,” he said very dryly.

  Ally gave a little snort of laughter. “When did you ever need encouragement?”

  He ignored that. “So tell me about this new script you’ve been offered?” He accepted theham and cheese roll she passed him, wrapped up in a paper towel.

  “It’s very good.” Ally took a bite out of her roll, continuing to talk with her mouth full. “It’s an adaptation of Bruce Templeton’s novel, ‘The Immigrant.’ “

  “I’ve read it.” Rafe glanced at her clear profile gilded by the firelight. “I suppose you’ve been offered the role of Constance?”

  She was so pleased he knew it. “No, I’ve been offered the chance to read the script, that’s all. Apparently, Ngaire Bell, the New Zealand director, likes my work. Or likes me.”

  “Even I can see you in the part, Ally.” He sat quietly.

  “It might have been written for you, even to the physical description.”

  It was crystal clear to now where Ally’s future lay. Who was he to deny her the development of her gift? She wasn’t any ordinary girl next door. She was immensely talented. She wasn’t Lainie Rhodes who would make some Outback man an excellent wife. She was Ally. He might have known her since she was at small child, but Ally had something to offer the world. He loved her. He couldn’t change it, only send her on her way. Marriage between them, and he was sure he could get her to rnarry him, would never work out. They would survive a few years. Maybe have a child, then the same old problems, distance, separation, would erode their love. He wouldn’t want any child of his to suffer like little Francesca had.

  “Would you like a drumstick?” Ally asked, so happy herself, she was unaware of his sombre thoughts.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he forced a smile.

  “Oh, come on! You’re a great big man.” She put the roast chicken into his hand. “I wishwe had a bottle of wine.”

  “Me, too.” All of a sudden he felt like getting drunk. A couple of glasses of wine wouldn’t do it. All the alcohol in the world wouldn’t numb the pain.”

  They finished with a piece of fruit each. Ally ate a mandarin, spitting out the seeds, Rafe settled for an apple. “Isn’t this beautiful here,” Ally said dreamily.

  “The air is so sweet and fresh we can do without the wine. I love the smell of the bush. It’s absolutely unique. I love burning gum leaves, I love crinkling dried leaves

  into aromatic bundles. I love all the little sounds at night, bush creatures scampering around. I even love the distant call of a dingo. Such a mournful howl.” She lay back and Rafe pushed a cushion beneath her head.

  “My God, Ally,” he said, looking down into her beautiful face, flushed in the coppery light.

  “Why are you sounding so regretful?” She lifted her hand, let her fingers explore the deep cleft in his chin.

  “Regrets!” He tossed his gilded head away from her like a high-mettled thoroughbred. “I have thousands of them. Haven’t you?”

  “Of course, It have,” she retorted with some spirit. “One can’t live without accumulating regrets along the way.”

  “It’s pointless to ask if you’re going to accept the role if you’re offered it?” He rolled onto his elbow.

  She stared up at him. “Even if I got the part I’d turn it down.”

  “The hell you would,” he said in a taut voice, looking down on her broodingly.

  “It’s very hard for me to get back your trust,” she sighed, realising full well words weren’t enough.

  “It is that. I know you mean well, Ally, when we’re alone together but don’t you realise…”

  “I realise I love you,” she cut him off, her voice full of emotion. “I’ll always love you. You built such strong defences they won’t let you listen. But at some point, I beg you, you’ve got to believe me.”

  “Well maybe I do, Ally,” he sighed deeply, “Each of us stole the other’s heart but what happens if we rnarry? Do we bring a tragedy down on our heads.”

  “Lie down beside me, Rafe,” she begged. “Let rne show you how much I love you.” She fixed her light, sparkling eyes on him, full of entreaty.

  His heart was pumping wildly. “No, let me show you,” he rasped. Why was life such a mess? Why did love put one at such risk of losing? His arms came under her slender body warmed by the fire, strong enough, tensile as steel, but taking good carer not to hurt her. This was the way with them, he realised. No matter the frustrated violence in him, he couldn’t bear to hurt her.

  He kissed her open mouth that blossomed like a rose, her little moaning breaths gusting back into his. He touched her breast, drew his hand down intimately over

  her body, bunching the soft denim of her skirt, sliding his hand over a satiny thigh, the length of her leg. The scents of the bush mingled with the scent of her, erotic beyond his understanding. This was how at man and a woman mated, chasing sounds and scents, urgent to know the other’s body, as though starved for completion.

  Two bodies, male and female craving to be one.

  “I’m not hurting you,” he burst out once, finding her naked breast as delicious as a peach.

  “No. I love it.” She turned her face into his neck, pressing her lips against his flesh. The damned silly cast on her She was desperate to stroke him as he was stroking her. And yet there was an odd excitement to it, a kind of spice. Gradually, he manoeuvred her clothes away until her body was luminous in the firelight, her blood so heated she felt no chill on her skin. “Ally, are you sure I can’t make you pregnant?” he asked urgently, his hand speared into herwonderful hair.

  “Make me pregnant,” she begged. “Go on, I’d love it.”

  He stared at her in fascination. “You frighten me. You could lose everything in a minute. Your career.”

  “No it’s an OK time for me,” she reassured him. “But I do want your child. Your children. As for my career? Looking back I don’t think it existed in the same way it existed for Fee…” She guided his hand down over the smooth curves and planes of her body. “I have something far more important in mind.”

  He was desperate to believe it. lie would be fatal. “You can’t do this, Ally,” he said “I’ll never let you go.”

  She could feel the heat rising from his skin, the male virility, the pounding force of his desire. It was magnificent!

  “Holding on to your wife is an essential part of marriage,” she said with great energy. “How dare you doubt me, Rafe Cameron. I stopped wanting a career long before tonight. I’ ve tried telling you so often, but if you really think about it, you didn’
t want to hear. In your hurt you made yourself deaf to me.”

  It bothered him now that there was a good deal of truth in it. “I must have been completely mad.”

  She nodded in entire agreement. “The bible refers to the sin of pride,” she said severely, then she smiled, the wide luminous smile he adored.

  “You mean this, Ally? You know your mind?” He pondered her vivid face so full of eloquence.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I’d give my soul for you.”

  It sent his confidence soaring. Up and up like an eagle in its powerful flight. “And you are the windows of mine.”

  A feeling of utter exultationt seized him, driving out every last lingering doubt. He felt he would conquer the world for her. Rafe cupped her beloved face with his hands, lowering his mouth passionately to hers.

  Around them the bush. was utterly still and the glittering stars in all their glory crowded. down the sky, scattering diamond dust on a pair of lovers.

  EPILOGUE

  ON THE morning of her wedding day Ally rose early, so full of radiant energy she found she couldn’t lie in bed. She dressed in her riding clothes, went quietly through the house filled with wedding guests and out to the stables, saddling up her favourite ride, the beautiful chestnut mare, Aurora, ex-prize-winning racehorse and a present from Brod. Aurora was the ultimate in cooperation or they were perfectly matched, because the mare responded instantly to her lightest instruction.

  Twenty minutes later with the dawn wind singing in her ears Ally was galloping across the open grasslands, thrilling to Aurora’s speed and power, watching the wonderful glow on the horizon as the sun started into the sky. With the sun came all the glorious rich ochres of the inland. Ever-changing colours that made it such a fascinating place. The pearly grey sky was turning to blue crystal and the birds were out in their rnillions,

  every species singing a different melodic line, like, instrurnents in an orchestra, the whole coming together in a perfect, complex, liquidly clear symphony.

  Riding was one of her life’s greatest pleasures, Ally thought, her mood so buoyant she felt Aurora, like Pegasus might suddenly take wings. She and her horse had developed such a wonderful trusting partnership, a magical harmony. It was far better than driving her BMW but both gave the same feeling of power, of smoothness, of being in control. It was very hard to accept had not some daring Mongolian leapt on a horse’s back, the magnificent animal beneath her might have become extinct. Man had to acquire the art of horsemanship before the horse, thought little of eight thousand

  years ago, was saved from extinction.

  She remembered who had taught her to ride as a small child with Brod always a willing helper. It had been Ernie Eaglehawk, Kimbara’s finest tracker and horse breaker. The stations owed a big debt to their aboriginal stockmen, the custodians s of the ancient land. Ernie had died several years back at a great age but he was one person she would never forget. For his kindness, for the sweetness of his nature, for his natural wisdom. Because of Ernie and his wonderful teaching ability she and Brod were about as good as you get.

  She was crossing a shallow homer creek when she spotted a rider coming across the plain at a gallop. A moment more and rider and horse took shape. Brod on his majestic Raj. She sat the mare comfortably, waiting for her brother to reach her, saluting him as he reined in alongside.

  “Hi, big brother!”

  He gave her a brilliant smile. “I told myself that couldn’t be Ally. Shouldn’t you be in bed resting for your big day?”

  “Resting? What are you talking about?” She laughed. “I’m going to enjoy every single’ minute of it.” Her green eyes spilled out radiant light. “Oh, God, I just never knew….”

  “I know.” Brod continued to smile at her broadly.

  “Yes, I know you know. You and Rebecca are so close, so much in love it warms my heart to see it.”

  Brod’s expression grew serious. “She was meant for me as Rafe was meant for you. We didn’t have much of an early life, Ally, but it’s turning out wonderfully now, isn’t it?”

  “Dear Brod, I love you,” she said. “I love the way you and Rebecca have done everything in your power to make this the most marvellous wedding.”

  “You deserve it, Ally.” Brod gave her a proud smile. “And I love my dual role of giving the bride away and best man. It was the greatest homecoming hearing you and Rafe had resolved all your differences and were finally together again. His joy in you is immense. You know that?”

  “He’s my man,” Ally said, “in every sense of the word. So, we have your blessing?”

  Brod gave his white flashing smile. “Ally, so far as I’m concerned you and Rafe marrying is a dream fulfilled.” He gathered up the reins, turning the black stallion’s head, “What say I race you to the gate of the main compound.”

  “You’re on!” Ally cried. “But don’t you dare win!”

  “Not on your wedding day,” sailed back.

  The Outback would long remember the Cameron Kinross wedding, held on historic Kimbara Station, the Kinross flagship. This was the long awaited union of two great pioneering families, and emotions ran high. Guests, three hundred in all, came from every state on the continent, as far away as Texas in the U.S.A. and two of the grand capitals of the world, London and Edinburgh, where both bride and groom had relatives.

  As the leading women’s magazine reported, the former highly successful TV actress, Ally Kinross, would have four attendants, Lady Francesca deLyle, her cousin and the only daughter of the internationally famous stage actress Fiona Kinross and Earl of Moray, chief bridesmaid, two of the bride’s long-time friends from Sydney, while her sister-in—law Rebecca Kinross, herself not long home from her honeymoon in Europe, would be matron

  of honour.

  The magazine went on to say it had exclusive coverage of the wedding. Their well-known society columnist, Rosemary Roberts, would be in attendance as a guest. The magazine had actually begged to be able to cover one of the biggest weddings of the year. After all, the bride, Alison Kinross, was well-known to the viewing public. The two families were famous in the Outback. The issue would sell like hot cakes. It was later picked up and subsequently reported the substantial sum that changed hands for exclusive coverage, went to one of Mrs. Cameron’s favourite causes, the Sydney Children’s Hospital.

  Her bridesmaids seemed almost spellbound when they saw Ally dressed.

  “Well, don’t stare at me as though I’m a creature from some mysterious planet,” she laughed, so happy her vitality was like a healing ray of sunshine.

  “You look….splendid!” Francesca said for all of them, moving around her taking in Ally’s magnificent dress. “Like a young queen.”

  “That’s Fee’s tiara,” Ally suggested, touching it. “Something borrowed. It’s perfectly beautiful.”

  “So are you.” Rebecca went to her and gently kissed her cheek, a feather-light touch so as not spoil Ally’s flawless make-up. “That was the most wonderful idea featuring the desert wildflowers on your gown. I’m sure it’s going to start a rage.”

  “Could do.” Ally nodded in agreement.

  She stood still while all her attendants admired her wedding gown of champagne silk-satin and tulle. It was a wedding dress dreams are made of. Strapless with dramatic swathing of a billowing silk-satin skirt leaving a shimmering tulle centre panel embroidered all over with the everlasting daisies of the desert. Thousand upon thousands of tiny beads, rhinestones and crystals had been used to create the small flowers in pinks, white, yellow and gold. The strapless bodice hugged Ally tightly, embroidered tulle moulding the bust, the draped silk satin defining her narrow torso and tiny waist. It was a stunning gown requiring someone tall with a model’s figure and posture to wear it. Ally had it all. Her shimmering champagne-coloured tulle veil matched exactly to her dress stood away from Fee’s tiara. A necklet of diamonds, Rafe’s wedding gift to her, encircled her slender throat. Diamond studs glittered in her ears..

 
“Now you can all line up for your inspection,” Ally said, thrilled with their appearance and the dizzying culmination of her dreams.

  “Just a minute.” Francesca rushed to the mirror to adjust her off-the-shoulder neckline from which each sleeve ballooned out. “Ready.” Satisfied she joined the line, a titian-haired beauty with shoulders like cream.

  Francesca, as chief bridesmaid, wore the pink of the desert wildflower, a glorious contrast with her hair, Jo Anne, a brunette wore the sunshine yellow of the batchelor’s buttons, Diane, the blonde, wore-the silvery green of the wildflower leaves, Rebecca, as matron of honour, wore. gold.

  All wore identical styles, the lovely full skirts flaring to the ground. In their hair they wore a crown of real paper daisies with silk leaves, each crown slightly different as were the small matching bouquets. Around each-attendant’s neck was an 18-carat-gold bezel-set gemstone on a slender gold chain to match their gowns, a pink tourmaline, a yellow sapphire, a peridot and a topaz, a gift frorn the bridegroom.

  “You all look perfectly beautiful.” Ally put her hands together in a little burst of applause. “Thank you so much for attending me.”

  “Oh, Lord, listen to her.” Jo Anne laughed. “We’re honoured.”

  “Now you’ve got something old,” Francesca said.

  “Yes, dear,” Ally nodded. “You’ve given me that exquisite antique handkerchief.”

  “Something blue. What about something blue?” Rebecca fluttered around her.

  “I’m wearing it.” Ally gave a throaty little laugh. “I won’t say where.”

  “Sornetliing new?” Diane completed the traditional requirernents.

  Ally held out her billowing skirt. “It is a brandnew dress.” Her smile was incandescent. “Well, there you are then!” Francesca clutched her hands in delight. “Oh, this is going to be so wonderful. I’ve got excitement pouring out my ears. I just love weddings.”

  “We’ll have to arrange it you’re next,” Ally told her with a flutter of mischief.

  “That’s if Mamma doesn’t beat me.” Francesca only half joked then brightened. “Don’t forget I caught part of Rebecca’s bouquet, too!”