Sister Of The Bride

by Valerie Parv

  Terise felt a chill fist close around her heart. This was the man in Clair’s letters—the tough, unfeeling cynic, who spoke of seduction so casually. Nothing he said should surprise her, yet she couldn’t suppress an anguished pang that he thought so little of her. It didn’t make any sense.

  ‘That was a mistake,’ she said with quiet dignity, refusing to let him see how his words had wounded her. ‘I assure you it won’t happen again.’

  He finished his drink. ‘Then I shan’t refer to it again. Goodnight, Terise.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  Slowly, thoughtfully, she followed him out of the living-room, turning off lights as she went. The trail of darkness behind her found an echo in her thoughts, which were as bleak and dark as an abyss. She kept seeing Ryan with Cecily, the other woman’s hand on his arm in casual intimacy. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself that this was the real Ryan Westmore, she couldn’t make herself accept it.

  She knew why.

  Part of her wanted to believe that the charming family man who had kissed her so persuasively this afternoon was the real Ryan Westmore.

  She went to sleep in a ferment of confusion over the puzzle. Maybe the time spent at Bowral would resolve the question once and for all.

  In their excitement, Trudy and Lisa became almost impossibly naughty in the days before the trip. When they tore through the apartment the day before their departure, squealing and shouting, Ryan stepped out of his study. ‘Is this a sample of what I’m in for when we get to the property?’

  At the sight of him Terise bit back the sympathy which welled inside her. He’d worked until well past midnight the night before, and his eyes were rimmed with shadows. He’d missed dinner the previous evening too, preferring to have a tray sent to his study.

  But none of it was the children’s fault, which was all that should concern her. ‘They’re only excited,’ she explained. ‘Once we’re in the country they’ll have room to run around and work off their high spirits.’

  His lids lowered over blazing eyes. ‘That sounds dangerously like a criticism to me, Terise.’

  She was tempted to snap that he could take it as he liked, her own nerves also being stretched to the limit by the confinement of the apartment. However spacious, it still lacked open air and greenery, which she found she needed as much as the children did. Parks were a poor substitute.

  ‘I’m sorry if it sounds like criticism,’ she said sincerely, ‘but it’s the truth. Six-year-olds need room to run and play.’

  He threaded long fingers through his charcoal hair. It was amazing how the cant of one eyebrow could reveal his displeasure more than most people’s rages, she thought, bracing herself. But all he said was, ‘Then it’s as well we’re leaving tomorrow. Are the children ready?’

  She had anticipated his wishes correctly. ‘I’ve done most of their packing. We can leave whenever you wish.’

  He nodded tautly. ‘Two o’clock tomorrow, then. Marcus will drive you and the children. I’ll drive Cecily in her car.’

  Remembering the black Alpha Romeo, Terise, wondered how Cecily had persuaded him to chauffeur her. She couldn’t imagine that it was due to any limitations on Cecily’s part. If she was playing the helpless female, it was for her own reasons. It was hard to imagine anyone less potentially helpless.

  She kept her thoughts to herself and went to round up the children. Perhaps the news would calm them down before they incurred more of their father’s wrath.

  Ryan and Cecily had already left by the time Terise and the children were ready. At the last moment Trudy had announced that she was missing her favourite stuffed toy—a bear called Morton—without whom she refused to close her eyes at night. They couldn’t leave until the bear had been restored to its tearful owner.

  ‘Are you sure that’s everything?’ Terise asked, her voice slightly ragged.

  Trudy gave her a wide-eyed look. ‘We couldn’t leave Morton behind, could we?’

  It was a look to melt stone. Probably genetic, Terise thought as she ruffled the golden hair. ‘Of course not. Let’s go, then. Your father will be wondering where we are.’

  Unless he was too busy playing host to the lovely Cecily, she thought, her errant mind conjuring up an image of his long-fingered hands resting capably on the steering-wheel of the powerful car. For a crazy moment she also saw herself beside him, her hair ruffled in the breeze from the sun-roof. His hair would be feathered across his wide forehead, making him look more dashing than usual, as light and shade played across the rugged planes and angles of his face.

  Flushing, she drove the image from her mind, replacing it with the more likely one of Cecily laughing up at him as they reminisced about growing up in diplomatic circles. Ryan would be driving with the effortless skill Terise had observed on the way to Ashton Park—no doubt with a hand free to reach for his companion.

  Stop it, she told herself furiously. Neither image was necessarily accurate—especially not the fantasy of herself and Ryan together. It could never happen—even assuming that she was foolish enough to want it. She knew what marriage to him had done to Clair. Wasn’t she, Terise, supposed to be the clever one? Hadn’t her stepmother. said many times that what Clair had achieved with her looks Terise would have to achieve with her brains?

  Well, thinking about him in those terms was hardly using her brains. An involuntary tightening within her body was enough to remind her that it wasn’t her intellect he appealed to. His attraction was much more primitive, and its power was almost frightening to one used to thinking her way through life.

  It was just as well Marcus was driving, she thought as they set off. Threading her way through the maze of her thoughts was bad enough, without having to deal with the city traffic as well.

  The expressways were clearer, and they reached the southern highlands in under two hours, which allowed for a stop for the twins to have a snack and stretch their legs.

  On the road again, Terise set them to watching for the turn-off to Westmoreland—Ryan’s eighteen-hectare property. Marcus knew the way, of course, but it helped to keep the increasingly restless youngsters occupied.

  ‘There it is! There it is!’ screamed Lisa, beating her twin by seconds.

  Trudy tugged at her arm. ‘Look, there are Daddy’s cows.’

  Marcus swung the car along an avenue of elms through which she glimpsed black and white cows grazing in velvet paddocks. A mob of kangaroos rested in the shade of a giant eucalyptus, their sleepy eyes barely registering the car’s passing.

  The house was set atop a knoll of natural bushland against a backdrop of densely forested mountain ranges. The style was federation, down to the leadlight windows and the wide verandas roofed with bullnosed corrugated iron. Set on Wollombi sandstone foundations, the house looked as if it had been standing there for a century.

  Marcus informed her that it had, having started life as a staging post for Cobb and Co coaches. An old-fashioned garden of agapanthus, climbing roses and peppercorn trees fairly invited exploration.

  Terise began to feel as excited as her charges, until a glimpse of a black car in the circular driveway dampened her spirits. Telling herself that it was foolish to resent Cecily’s presence didn’t help. Knowing that the other woman was already here made her feel as if a shadow had slid across the sun.

  Freed from the confines of the car, Trudy and Lisa burst into the house like bullets fired from a gun, their aim straight and true as they homed in on their father in the living-room.

  Recalling his previous resentment at being disturbed by them, Terise followed more sedately, ready to whisk them away if Ryan objected. To her surprise he scooped up a daughter in each arm and held them high. ‘How’re my best girls? Enjoy the drive?’

  ‘It was fun. Terise bought us ice-cream in Berrima,’ Trudy confided.

  His eyes sparkled as his glance included her in the charmed circle. ‘Did she, now? What kind?’

  Lisa touched his nose and giggled as he pretended to bite her fing
er. ‘You know I always have chocolate.’

  ‘And I always have strawberry.’ Trudy was missing a front tooth so it came out ‘thtwabewwy’. Ryan laughed and nibbled her finger too, before setting them down.

  Terise watched him in amazement. Was this the same fiercely preoccupied man who’d almost bitten her head off in Sydney for letting the twins run around the apartment? Surely the country air hadn’t affected him so quickly? Then she had it. Cecily must have worked some magic on him during the drive. The thought was unexpectedly distressing, try as she might to tell herself that she welcomed the change.

  ‘How was your trip?’ she asked, striving to sound conversational and almost succeeding.

  ‘Pleasant. Cecily’s gone to her room to make some business calls before dinner.’

  It hardly sounded relaxing to Terise, but to another workaholic it was probably normal. She gathered up the twins with a gesture. ‘I’ll get these two settled in. Marcus showed me where their rooms are.’

  ‘Yours is alongside, with Cecily and I across the hall,’ he explained. ‘You’ll want to be near the girls.’

  It wasn’t a question. And she didn’t need to ask whether he wanted to be that close to Cecily. It seemed as if Ryan had everything worked out.

  Other than at mealtimes, she saw little of him over the next couple of days. Cecily was also absent, she noticed. Well, they had come here to work—although Terise doubted whether the trade assembly took up every moment of their time together. At the thought, desolation swept through her. It happened altogether too often lately. Here, she didn’t even have Maggie to talk to and the twins—delightful as they were—were hardly stimulating company.

  She was returning from putting them to bed one night, when she quite literally collided with Ryan in the hallway. The hands he put out to steady her burned like brands through her T-shirt. ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’ he asked, amusement colouring his voice.

  Why did he always manage to make her feel no older than the twins? For a fleeting moment she wished she was wearing something more glamorous than the T-shirt and jeans in which she’d been riding with the children. Her hair was tied back with a scarf, from which dozens of tendrils had escaped to curl around her face.

  ‘I was going to shower and change then have an early night,’ she said, disturbingly aware of his closeness. He was so big and the hall so narrow that she would have to force her way past him to escape.

  Under his scrutiny she felt herself colour, but she forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching. ‘I was hoping you’d join us for dinner. You are entitled to some time to yourself, you know.’

  He had already informed her that the couple who looked after the property were more than happy to take Trudy and Lisa off her hands for a few hours whenever she felt the need. The couple had known the children since birth, and regarded them as part of their own family. From what Terise had seen, the twins more than returned their affection.

  ‘I’ll remember,’ she said stiffly, unhappy with the way her senses had suddenly gone on red alert. His touch on her arm was light and completely impersonal, but her skin reacted to it as if to a caress. Prickles of awareness travelled along her jawline to connect with the nerves of her shoulders and spine. Heat spilled along her entire body until a tremor shook her.

  What was it about this man? It couldn’t be simple good looks. Terise had known handsome men before. Teachers—especially presentable young single ones—had ample opportunity to meet their opposite numbers, usually other teachers or single parents of their pupils. So dates had never been a problem. But never before had Terise been so mesmerised by a man.

  Was it his air of absolute self-assurance, reflected in the manner and stride which said he owned whatever land he walked over? Or was it the sheer force of a personality which drew eyes and interest wherever he went? Terise had heard the term ‘alpha male’ many times, but had never seen anyone who personified it so totally.

  Releasing the breath she’d been unaware of holding, she managed a cool nod. ‘Dinner would be nice—if you’re sure I’m not intruding.’

  Puzzlement momentarily darkened his features. ‘Intruding? Of course not. What makes you think you could be?’

  It was almost painful to admit it. ‘You and Cecily have a lot to...discuss.’ Among other things—none of which concerned the hired help.

  He laughed explosively. ‘Don’t you think three days of business talks is enough? Weren’t you the one who accused me of too much work and not enough play?’

  Her mouth twitched in an unwilling smile. ‘It was hardly an accusation. And you did your best to set me straight on that score, if you recall?’

  ‘Oh, I recall very well. I also recall exactly how I set about it.’

  Her breathing became tight suddenly as his arm slid down the wall to trap her between it and his body. The hall seemed even narrower as he cupped the side of her face, stroking it gently until it was all she could do not to press her lips into his open palm. The memory of his last kiss lingered on her lips and in her mind like a brand, so she could barely tell if this was an echo or if Ryan was really kissing her again.

  The warm, demanding feel of his mouth shaping hers brought her to her senses. It was real, and this time there was no excuse. Cecily was here in the house, and Terise was poaching on territory not only forbidden but dangerous in the extreme.

  Butterflies dipped and soared in her stomach and she clung to him dizzily, aware of every corded muscle under her fingers. Like the victim of a stage hypnotist, she knew perfectly well that she shouldn’t be letting him do this—and went ahead and let him do it anyway.

  The tap of heels on the polished tallow wood floor penetrated the mist swirling around her. Ryan drew back lazily, much less concerned than Terise. In fact, amusement sparkled in the eyes he brushed briefly over her before he turned to greet Cecily.

  ‘I’ve convinced Terise to join us for dinner.’

  The other woman’s blue eyes were less welcoming. ‘Really? I thought we still had a lot to discuss.’

  ‘A fresh point of view always helps,’ he said, his glance flicking back to where Terise stood, mortified, against the panelled wall. ‘Later, then.’

  His brisk stride took him past both women to his own room. Cecily looked after him, her mouth set in a grim line. ‘So you’re his fresh point of view, are you?’

  ‘He didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ Terise tried.

  Cecily gave a hollow laugh. ‘Ryan never says anything he doesn’t mean.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘If you don’t know that yet, perhaps you don’t know him too well after all.’

  Horribly uncomfortable, Terise felt bound to reassure the other woman. ‘Actually, I don’t. I’ve only worked for him for a few weeks. I gather you’ve known him a great deal longer.’

  ‘As he’s probably told you, our fathers were in the diplomatic corps. His father was a full ambassador. Mine drank rather too much to rise that high. But he did well enough, and drinking is an occupational hazard in diplomacy. So Ryan and I spent a lot of time together when we were young. Since I went into international trade relations we’ve stayed close. We understand each other.’

  ‘You love him?’ Terise could have bitten her tongue out for voicing the question, but it was out before she could stop herself.

  Cecily looked startled, as if the question hadn’t occurred to her. ‘I suppose so. There aren’t many men like him. But he’s always been there for me and I assumed he always would be.’

  In Cecily’s shoes, Terise knew that she wouldn’t have made such a dangerous assumption. Men like Ryan were rare, and even more rarely available, without some fatal flaw to explain their status. According to Clair’s letters, Ryan did possess a fatal flaw. Maybe this was what had kept Cecily from deepening their relationship, since she knew him so well.

  Without betraying her relationship to Clair, Terise could hardly voice her suspicions. In any case, Cecily seemed capable of taking care of herself. ‘I’d better get ready f
or dinner.’

  Cecily seemed to return from a great distance. ‘I suppose you’d better, since Ryan is your employer. We’re dining at eight. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’

  She turned on her heel, leaving Terise bristling with annoyance. Cecily had been perfectly correct to remind her of her place in Ryan’s life, but it still rankled.

  She had more than a suspicion that Ryan had only kissed her to make Cecily jealous, perhaps intending to force her hand. The other woman’s reaction when Terise had asked if she loved Ryan served to make Terise think that Ryan’s tactic—if it was indeed a tactic—was working. Cecily had looked like a sleepwalker awakening at long last.

  Dinner was as much of an ordeal as Terise had expected. Cecily had changed into a stunning halter dress in fuchsia satin, which revealed gleaming shoulders and a swanlike neck in perfect diminutive proportions. Beside her, even in the Chanel dress, Terise felt ungainly—although she had actually lost weight since coming to work for Ryan.

  She couldn’t help noticing how adroitly Cecily played on her size, emphasising Ryan’s masculinity by contrast. It was guaranteed to flatter any man, and Ryan looked as if he was enjoying the sport.

  To his credit, he refused to let Cecily talk business all evening, and drew Terise into the conversation whenever she tried to fade into the background. It was more attention than she wanted, and his speculative look suggested that he was aware of her attempt but was determined not to let her get away with it.

  If his aim was to make Cecily jealous, he was succeeding, she noticed uneasily. Until now Cecily had considered Terise beneath her notice. Now she seemed constrained to outshine Terise—which wasn’t difficult, with her knowledge of languages and a wider world than Terise had ever known.

  At the coffee stage she rested her chin on one hand, smiling at Terise. ‘Ryan’s taking me bushwalking tomorrow. I’ve seen so much of the world and so little of my own back yard that I can’t wait.’