Beresford's Bride

by Way, Margaret

  “So I see.” For a long moment he allowed himself to look at her. He had seen the dress, of course, the day it arrived, and later hanging from a high beam in the attic. Cate and Sonia had shown him dozens of swatches of material in the early days, beautiful materials, seeking his approval, as though disapproval was possible—whatever his sister wanted for her wedding day she was to get. But his only lasting impression had been a blur of luminous colours and rich fabrics. Now before him was Antoinette Streeton, a young woman he had known from childhood, dazzling him with her beauty. There was such a bloom on her flawless skin, skin that had the fragrance of frangipani. Her colouring was exquisite, shades of gold and cream, the tint of rose, the quite marvellous violet-blue of her eyes. It pierced his senses, beat in his veins. Her bare shoulders and the upper slopes of her young breasts rose out of the strapless gown, a rosetinged shadow at the dip of the heart-shaped neckline.

  “You look glorious,” he said in a dark, moody voice, picking up a long lock of her hair, handling it. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His tone turned ironic, slightly harsh. “One of those young women of poetry and legend. Rapunzel, Beatrice, the Lady of Shalott.”

  No matter how he tantalized her, the things he said, it was madness to dream he really wanted her. But what was she to read in his eyes?

  “I’m glad you like it.” Her voice was strained. Her nerves wound themselves into a tight ball.

  “I like you.” His eyes touched her hair, her face, her mouth, her throat, her breasts.

  “So sad, then, you’re making such an effort not to.”

  “I’m used to protecting my bachelor freedom.”

  “I know.” The intensity of his gaze was disturbing her, but she didn’t look away. “But you have a dual nature. I’ve sensed that all along.”

  “I can’t get involved with you, sweet Antoinette. Not even for a little while.”

  “But you’re being tested all the same?”

  A trace of derision touched his mouth. “You know it. I know it.”

  “All I want is for you to see I’m a woman.” Arms uplifted, she whirled, inviting his attention.

  “You’re playing with fire, Toni,” he warned. “Fire bums.”

  “I know,” she said simply. “But I’m drawn to it all the same.”

  “That was said with an air of fatalism.”

  She twirled very close to him, dipped a curtsy. “You don’t believe in fate?”

  He did now. “Down deep I suppose I do,” he drawled, “but we have a will of our own.”

  “To fill our lives, surely. To take on adventure, ambitions, new challenges?”

  “Antoinette. You cannot challenge me.”

  She stopped abruptly, as though recognising that was true. “No, of course not. I know all about the misery that comes from misguided passions.” She went to sweep past him, so emotional it shocked her, only at the last moment he reached for her and drew her strongly against him as though to still her trembling. His tall, lean body was charged with such energy it was like an outside force driving him.

  A convulsive little cry tore from her throat, a mix of panic and violent excitement. What a tumultuous business it was battling attraction. She had scarcely time to look at him before his mouth overwhelmed hers, crushing it so she could hardly breathe.

  She seemed fragile in his arms, clinging to him so she could stand. Her heart was racing—he could hear its beating in his ears. He had never experienced such consummate pleasure. This had been waiting for him, indeed, staring him in the face. His tongue moved beyond her small white teeth, exploring deeply the moist interior. He could still breathe in the scent of frangipani. It seemed to emanate from her body. Desire for her mounted so swiftly there didn’t seem a thing he could do about it. It was like a great flare of red. Red for passion. Red for danger.

  “Don’t they say the best way to get rid of temptation is to give in to it?” He wrenched up his dark head, his eyes blazing at her. She seemed dazed, unmoving, unable to answer. He shook her slightly. “Toni?” Intensely, he stroked her cheek.

  “What is it?” Her voice was soft and weak.

  “I hadn’t intended this. But I can stop it.” There was a hard, edgy note to his voice.

  Her heart palpitated with pain. “Why are you being so cruel?”

  “Cruel?” He looked at her with a mixture of anger, regret, desire, all doing battle in his dark, handsome face. “I’m trying to retain some control. You’re not ready for this.”

  “I just don’t know how you could say that,” she protested.

  “Because it’s what I believe.”

  “So you alternate between pushing me away and going off the deep end?” Tears stood in her violet eyes.

  “That’s what worries me,” he said. “The deep end. It should worry you, too.”

  “May I go, Byrne? I need to go.” It was a plea.

  She looked so young, so heartbreakingly beautiful, her eyes suffused with a glittering blue light. He spoke with passionate intensity. “I’m not going to hurt you, Toni.”

  “You have already.”

  “I truly hope not.” His voice was eloquent:

  “Don’t worry,” she said. Pride made her fling up her head. “I’ll soon be off your territory. I like it a lot better in Paris.”

  “You’ll never make a convincing liar.”

  “I don’t belong here.” Her ash-blond hair flew around her flushed face. “I have nowhere I can lay my head.”

  The truth of it struck him forcibly. “I’ll make it right for you, Toni. I promise.” He had a powerful urge to shield her from all harm.

  “Oh, no.” She shook her gilded head. “I want nothing from you, Byrne.” Even as she said it she was shaking with a desire so intense she thought she might faint.

  “You want what I want,” he said harshly. “Whether it’s good for us is another matter.”

  “So why won’t you let me go?” she cried.

  For the first time he registered that his arm was locked around her small waist. “Because I’m too damned screwed up,” he rasped. “I have been from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “Good!” Now her voice was touched with a tinge of hysteria. “The mighty Byrne Beresford has finally learned about torment. And I’m the cause of it. Can you imagine? Little Toni Streeton, the kid who was in love with you when she was seven.”

  “What do you mean was?” He reacted fiercely, pulling her to him, his silver eyes so bright they could have lit up the world.

  This time she didn’t even manage a cry. His mouth came blisteringly over hers, kissing her until the excitement grew too much to be borne. The tips of her breasts flared against the tight satin bodice, and he brought up his hand.

  “Byrne!” Her eyes were shut tight against the rapturous agony.

  “I want you,” he muttered. He could have lifted her with one arm. Carried her off.

  It was a measure of their intense involvement that they came perilously close to being surprised by Sonia.

  “Toni? Are you there, dear?” she called, her voice growing stronger as she moved from the hallway into her large bedroom.

  Toni’s whole body flamed. The electricity between herself and Byrne was so strong it was palpable, causing the very air to crackle. Sonia would notice. She had to.

  “Ah, there you are!” Sonia sailed into the room, her expression showing first surprise that Byrne was there, then a certain alarm. “Everything all right?” She looked from one to the other, noticing that her imperturbable son had a pallor beneath his dark copper tan and Toni’s eyes were like saucers in her pale, creamy face.

  They were standing very close together, yet their bodies seemed to be saying they desperately wanted to be somewhere else. Sonia fancied there was a glitter of unshed tears in Toni’s eyes.

  It was Byrne who answered, his striking face wearing its high, mettled look, his voice suave. “Of course, Mamma. Why wouldn’t it be? Toni’s been trying on. her bridesmaid dress, as you see.”r />
  Sonia. forced herself to speak casually. Toni still looked at a loss. She seemed to be trembling. “And it looks wonderful on you, dear. Show me.” With the greatest effort Toni whirled for Sonia’s inspection when she really wanted to sink through the floor. Sonia, too, strove to control her feelings of alarm. The room exuded so much emotion. She felt her first stab of jealousy. She doted on Byrne, her firstborn. She loved all her children, but it was Byrne who filled her with wonderment, Byrne who had realised her husband’s and her dreams, Byrne who made her most conscious of the glory of motherhood. Now young Toni Streeton. A girl Sonia realised she might have difficulty accepting into the family. Not because she was Zoe’s daughter. That was too unfair. But because Toni was one of those young women who stole a man’s heart away. Stole all their love. Ashamed of her human frailty, Sonia continued, “It’s a perfect fit, too. I’m so pleased.”

  Byrne put out his hand slowly, tipped Toni’s chin. “Talk, at least,” he prompted her, “otherwise we’ll begin to wonder if you’re an angel come to visit.”

  I hate you, Toni thought. Tormentor. Every nerve in her body leaped to his touch.

  “I’m no angel. Count on it.” She met his eyes with determination.

  “Well, you look like an angel, more than anything else.”

  “Byrne, stop teasing,” Sonia admonished, stuck with the feeling she wasn’t even in the room. Something had been going on. Something disturbing. Not that the girl didn’t look miraculous, drawing all the light in the room to herself. Hair, skin, eyes. Useless to deny a beautiful young woman’s power. On the other hand, Byrne would be impossible to resist.

  “Anyway, there was something I wanted to speak to you about, Mamma.” Byrne turned and gave her a smile.

  “I’ll go change,” Toni said.

  She made to escape, only Byrne’s powerful figure blocked her path. “We’ll be breaking in the best of the brumbies this afternoon,” he said quickly and casually. “Want to come?”

  He must be crazy, she thought. I must be crazy. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

  “Fine.” He stood aside, smiling at her a little mockingly. “We’ll be at Ibis Creek. Make it after lunch. I’ll have one of the boys saddle up Rinka for you.”

  Rinka? Sonia took care not to pass a remark. Rinka was a lovely horse, a bright chestnut filly with wonderful bloodlines. Did the girl realise the honour?

  Apparently she did. Toni swept away, flushed and radiant.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EVERYONE was in for a light buffet lunch except Byrne, who seemed to survive on an excellent early morning breakfast and cups of tea with his men.

  “Where is he, anyway?” Andrea asked. “There’s a man who loses himself easily.”

  “He’s got a lot of territory to lose himself in.” Kerry smiled and leaned back. “Ten thousand square kilometers. I guess you could call that a spread.”

  “A big spread,” Andrea acknowledged, obviously miffed she was missing out on his company. “But he must be hungry,surely? Are you sure no one knows where he is? I’d really like to speak to him before I leave.”

  “Why, he’s at the Five Mile,” Sonia volunteered.

  “That’s Ibis Creek?” Andrea asked, folding her napkin briskly.

  “Come on, Andrea. You don’t like a lot of dust flying,” Joel teased.

  “That’s all right, I’ve adjusted to it. What’s happening?”

  “They’re breaking in the best of the brumbies,” Toni said, not comfortable with holier-than-thou Andrea. “Singing to them, talking them in. More endearments than threats. Horses need to know they’re among friends.”

  “Come on then,” Joel said happily. “Let’s go. Toni, you’re coming for sure.”

  “Byrne has already asked her,” Sonia said. “She’s to ride Rinka. Quite an honour.”

  “Good,” Cate said, with instant approval. “Toni always was a darn good rider, even as a kid.”

  “I don’t imagine she’s been doing much riding in Europe,” Andrea said.

  “On the contrary, I’ve had access to a large estate. Not vast like our part of the world, but plenty large enough. And surpassingly green and beautiful.”

  Toni was at the head of the central staircase before Andrea caught her. “Why did you have to leave it to Sonia to tell me where Byrne was?”

  “Why? Because Sonia is our hostess and Byrne’s mother.”

  “What a cop-out,” Andrea exclaimed. “It makes no sense his allowing you to ride Rinka, either. He’d never let me.”

  “Maybe he thought you weren’t right for the horse,” Toni half-joked.

  “No, please, jokes aside,” Andrea said, sounding distressed. She laid a restraining hand on Toni’s arm. “I don’t normally do this, but I feel I must speak out. I’m not an unfair person. I didn’t judge you before you arrived.”

  “Judge me? What do you mean?” Toni felt she’d had enough of this.

  “Well, so many aspects of your life, your mother’s life arouse painful emotions. Being so close to Byrne, to the family, I couldn’t help but hear about them.”

  “I’m sure Byrne has never discussed my family with you.”

  Andrea’s thin, elegant face tightened. “Really, you’re tremendously touchy.”

  “Only when I’m under attack. I can see you’re worried you might be losing Byrne, Andrea, but directing your anger and aggression at me won’t help. Either he cares about you. or he doesn’t. We both know there’s a distinction between fantasy and reality. You’re not the first or the last to fall madly in love with Byrne Beresford. It’s been happening ever since I can remember.”

  Silence. “Why don’t you just pack your bags and go home,” Andrea said very quietly, unable to handle the idea all her efforts at attracting Byrne might have been in vain.

  “I am home, Andrea,” Toni said and knew, finally, it was true. “I’m going to build my life here.”

  “This weekend isn’t working out as smoothly as was planned, is it?” Joel asked, looking across at Toni sitting so easily in the saddle. She looked wonderful on Rinka, both of them so bright and colourful.

  “No,” Toni replied, her eyes on the grand sight of a flight of budgerigar on the wing.

  “Are you really going back, Toni?” Joel asked tentatively.

  She nodded. “Maybe for a while. Just to satisfy myself Zoe is all right.”

  “She’s a grown woman, for God’s sake!” Joel said scornfully, shoving his hat over his eyes.

  “She’s a woman. She’s every inch a woman, but a particular woman. She doesn’t know how to look after herself.”

  “Well, it certainly made things hard for you,” Joel said with sympathy. “What’s with you and Byrne?”

  “In what way?” Toni was instantly on the defense.

  “There’s something between you two,” Joel said. “I’m not such a damn fool I can’t spot it.”

  “Your imagination is working overtime,” she said lightly.

  “So you won’t level?”

  “Does it matter to you?” She turned her head.

  Joel’s attractive voice was firm. “Toni, I’m interested in you myself. I thought I made that perfectly plain.”

  “You certainly made it plain to Fern.”

  “Whatever my sins, I’ve made no promises to Fern. She’s a nice girl. I like her a lot. We’ve been seeing quite a bit of each other, but I’ve always been hoping for that lightning bolt. What do the French call it? You should know.”

  “Coup de foudre, ” Toni said, giving it an authentic French polish.

  “Don’t ever lose that accent.” Joel smiled.

  “I suppose in the end I will.”

  He looked at her, slightly puzzled. “This must seem pretty tame to you after all Europe has to offer.”

  “Does it seem tame to you?”

  “I’d never want to be anywhere else.”

  “The same for me. The Big Sky Country is in our blood.”

  By the time they arrived at the camp
site on the banks of Ibis Creek, a place visited by the sacred white ibis and the great blue cranes, the brolgas, a small crowd had arrived, drawn by the interest and excitement of seeing the best of the draft learn to handle their loss of freedom. From a master. These were wild bush horses, used to calling the vast open plains their territory. Thousands of them roamed the station, some far out into the desert with only the dingoes, the kangaroos and the wild camels to keep them company, all of them descendants of the station horses that had escaped from the beginning of settlement until the present day, when the reigning stallions came in search of fresh station mares. A mob of about thirty was being held in one of the yards. Byrne was working a fine-looking bay colt, swinging an old burlap bag gently back and forth.

  Immediately Joel went to join Cate and Kerry, who were sitting on the top rung of the fence with Andrea, swathed in a head scarf, a large straw hat and huge sunglasses, alongside. All three had driven out in the Jeep, arriving long before Toni and Joel. Twenty or more people were scattered around the area, including the four head stockmen, who ran the mustering camps, a couple of the jackeroos, one a young Englishman of distinguished family who had begged his father for a year of adventure before returning home to take up serious study, and the wife and young children of Perky Parkins, a part aboriginal stockman and a marvelous horse handler. Although he was only in his twenties, Perky was so good the rest of the aboriginal stockmen called him “old man,” a term of respect. Perky’s wife, Lucy, was sitting in the cool, leafy shade of the paperbarks with the baby in her arms and her five-year-old, Noel, clamped beside her. Noel was an engaging little fellow with his father’s startling light blue eyes in a chocolate brown face. Lucy had been one of Bridie’s girls at the homestead since her early teens. Toni knew her well, so she walked over to say hello and admire the baby and to talk to Noel, who was looking frustrated at being held by his mother. No doubt he wanted to sit on the fence, but it wasn’t uncommon for brumbies to pose a threat.

  While Lucy beamed with pleasure, Toni bent to speak to the baby, a plump little girl with her mother’s huge liquid black eyes.