They both looked lovely in off-the-shoulder gowns, Harriet’s in jacaranda-blue, Bridget’s in hyacinth-pink, and they carried white bouquets. As they began to descend the steps, another, louder hum rose as Chattie appeared on Slim’s arm.
Without his trademark pony-tail, few people would have recognized Slim in a well-tailored grey suit, blue shirt and navy tie.
But it was Chattie towards whom all eyes were drawn as she paused at the top of the steps. Her dress was stunning. Pure white heavy satin, it was a strapless sheath with a small train. Over it she wore a bolero of delicately flower-patterned voile with puff sleeves and a stand-up collar encrusted with seed pearls.
A froth of veil beneath a pearl coronet covered her loose hair and face; she wore short white gloves and carried white roses starred with single blue agapanthus florets.
As she paused, she wasn’t conscious of the crowd of guests, however, she was looking back over the last few weeks and some of the surprises they’d contained.
Bridget, for example, had refused even to consider a double wedding on the grounds that Chattie’s special day should be hers alone.
‘We’ll do our wedding our way,’ she’d said.
Accordingly, a week earlier, they’d all flown to the Gold Coast, the Barlows and the Jacksons as well, and Mark and Bridget had been married in the chapel of the private school both Mark and Steve had attended, then enjoyed a lively reception at a restaurant overlooking the beach.
But the biggest surprise, perhaps, had been Steve’s insistence that they continue to be ‘traditional’ until their wedding day.
Nestled in his arms when he’d made the declaration, Chattie had thanked him gravely but expressed the doubt that they could handle the strain. He’d then embarked on a discourse on the efficacy of cold showers—until she’d been helpless with laughter.
‘If you think it’s funny—’ He looked at her reproachfully.
‘I do.’
‘Well, I don’t.’ But he started to laugh too. Then he sobered. ‘I suspect it will be good for my soul, a bit of discipline, but I also think, in your heart of hearts, you’d like to do it this way?’ He searched her eyes.
‘I must seem very old-fashioned but, yes, I would.’
‘It’s one of the things I love about you, Chattie. Your principles and your values.’
She came out of her reverie and walked down the steps on Slim’s arm. There was, literally, not a cloud in the sky, and half an hour later as Steve raised her veil and kissed her the congregation cheered and Rich barked joyfully.
After the reception, Steve flew them to Brisbane where they picked up a commercial flight and winged their way to Cairns then drove north to Palm Cove.
They had the honeymoon suite in a marvellous hotel on the beach. Chattie looked round at the Javanese inspired décor of terracotta floor tiles, lovely fretted woodwork, bamboo and batik, the four poster-bed, and sighed with pleasure.
‘There’s more,’ Steve said and took her hand to lead her out to their private courtyard with its own swimming pool and spa. He put his arms around her. ‘Did I tell you what a stunning bride you made?’
She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Several times actually. Did I tell you that you took my breath away in a suit?’
‘Several times, actually. Here’s one thing I haven’t told you—I’m dying by degrees. Have been for over a month, come to think of it.’
‘So have I. May I suggest a solution?’
‘Be my guest.’
‘A swim and a spa to freshen us up.’ She paused as he looked alarmed, but continued resolutely, ‘A leisurely consumption of those gorgeous pink cocktails they provided, to relax us, then—anything is possible.’
‘I’m so glad you got to that bit. I had a horrible feeling you were going to recommend we went out for dinner as well!’
She looked into his dark eyes then stood on her toes to cup his face. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m quite happy to reverse the—order of things.’
‘Like this?’ He started to kiss her.
Five minutes later Chattie was trembling against him with every nerve of her body pulsing, or so it felt.
‘Steve,’ she whispered raggedly.
‘Come,’ he answered, and picked her up to set her down on her feet again next to the bed. And he began to undress her item by item, stopping every so often to caress her.
Her going away outfit was a short-sleeved aquamarine linen suit. He took the jacket off and drew an unsteady breath because her bra was also aquamarine trimmed with white. He smiled into her eyes, and she smiled, wryly, back.
Then he reached for the zip of her skirt, and as it slipped down her legs matching briefs were revealed, plus a lacy garter belt holding up pale stockings.
She stepped out of the skirt and he put his hands on her waist and raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Twenty-one?’
‘Yes. You were right, thirty-two, twenty-one, thirty-two.’
‘And all of it gorgeous. Especially these.’ His hands moved to her hips. ‘They have a way of swishing that is—was,’ he amended, ‘a sore trial to me.’
Chattie moved beneath his hands and slipped her arms around his waist. ‘So you told me.’
‘At least you’re not cross about it this time.’ His lips twisted.
‘No. The opposite,’ she said ruefully. ‘May I?’ And, without waiting for an answer, started to unbutton his shirt.
From then on things got quite hectic as they undressed each other and gloried in each other’s bodies.
‘I was wrong,’ he said with an effort at one stage. ‘Nearly everything about you drives me insane. Your lovely, satiny skin, your breasts, your perfume.’ He stopped talking and buried his head beneath her breasts.
Then he picked her up again and laid her on the bed and lay down beside her. And what he did to her breasts and nipples with his hands and teeth brought her almost more delight than she could bear.
‘Please,’ she said on a sobbing little breath as she arched her body and tangled her fingers in his hair.
He raised his mouth and kissed her on the lips until she quietened. Then he slid his leg between hers and started to stroke her thighs with his fingers moving ever higher to that secret place that was at the core of her delight. And only when he felt her grow wet with desire did he ease his weight onto her and smile down into her eyes.
‘How am I doing?’ he asked her softly.
‘Steve, I…got the feeling this would be a soul-liberating experience…between us,’ she said disjointedly, ‘I was right. You’re wonderful and—’
But she couldn’t go on because a shudder racked him and he said no more. But everything he did to her and the way he did it drew a rapturous response from her, until that moment when she was completely exposed to him and he claimed her for his own.
And, as they’d climbed the pinnacle of ecstasy together, so they came down in each other’s arms, breathing heavily, dewed with sweat and immensely moved.
‘That was…’ Chattie paused ‘…like nothing else that’s ever happened to me.’
He stroked her hair off her face. ‘I didn’t hurt you?’
‘No,’ she said wonderingly. ‘There was so much pleasure I didn’t even stop to think about it.’
He held her hard. ‘So much pleasure,’ he repeated. ‘I can’t even begin to tell you how much pleasure you bring me, soul and body.’
She breathed contentedly.
‘Although,’ he added, ‘I have to tell you that discipline in these matters has become a thing of the past, Miss Winslow-that-was.’
She laughed softly and traced the line of his jaw. ‘I have to tell you that, for a teacher, I’ve developed a strange aversion to discipline.’
He caught her wandering fingers and kissed them. ‘I’m extremely glad we agreed to come away immediately after the reception.’
‘Oh? So am I, but—why?’
‘They’ll party on for days.’
Chattie eased herself up on her elbow and as the sheet s
lipped pulled it up to cover her breasts. ‘Days!’ she said incredulously. ‘Without us?’
‘Yep.’ He pulled the sheet down.
‘That’s…unusual, isn’t it?’ She automatically reached for the sheet again but his fingers stopped hers.
‘Why so modest?’ His dark eyes glinted.
She coloured delicately. ‘Habit, maybe?’
He pulled her into his arms. ‘I was going to suggest a shower, a swim in the nude in our pool, then a spa, sipping those cocktails. Think you could cope?’
She opened her mouth, closed it, then said, ‘Not until you tell me whether you’re joking about them partying on for days without us.’
‘I’m not joking,’ he said solemnly. ‘Old outback custom. Do you mind?’
‘No. It’s not my place to, anyway. I just—’
‘Oh, but it is now you’re Mrs Steve Kinane,’ he interrupted.
Chattie lay back. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. But I certainly wouldn’t interfere with any old outback customs.’
‘What about customs affecting newly-weds?’
‘Popping around in the nude and the like, do you mean?’ she queried with the utmost gravity.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I will…’ her lips started to curve ‘…do my best!’
He hugged her until she could barely breathe, then looked into her eyes. ‘You do know that I’d be lonely to the depths of my soul without you now. I love you.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TWELVE months later to the day, Patrick Charles Kinane was born to Charlotte and Steve Kinane, on their wedding anniversary. He was named after his grandfathers. Two and a half years later his sister, Francesca Christine Kinane, arrived.
By this time, Rich not only had Brett and Patrick to play with, but Brett’s twin brothers, Luke and Jonathan, born nine months after Harriet had left the station the day after Chattie had first arrived at Mount Helena. And, on their frequent visits, Mark and Bridget’s daughter, Louella, joined in. Mark and Bridget remained blissfully in love and his career as a racehorse trainer was going well.
Both Slim and Merlene still worked at the homestead in amicable disharmony and Miss Daisy, retired from racing, had produced a filly foal.
It was at Francesca’s—universally known as Bubbles—christening that Steve Kinane looked around the garden at the festivities, and festivities they were. Once more there were planes on the airstrip and vehicles at the garden gate. Once again many of the district wore their Sunday best and a veritable feast had been produced. This time, though, there was a growing tribe of children underfoot.
But he couldn’t see the person he sought so he went in search of his wife.
He found her in their bedroom. She’d just put the baby down and was buttoning up her blouse. He closed the door and watched her, saying nothing. In nearly four years Chattie Winslow, as he still sometimes thought of her, had changed little.
Still the same fair curly hair, the musical laugh, the person you could depend on. Her figure was fuller but still enchanting and she had the lovely bloom and radiance of a contented mother and wife.
If it was possible, he reflected, he was more in love with her than ever—and more content himself than he would have believed possible.
‘Why so serious?’ she asked lightly as she came towards him. ‘Don’t tell me, Luke and Patrick are fighting? Merlene and Slim have fallen out? There’s been a power failure or there’s a storm lurking? Harriet is giving someone a piece of her mind or—’
He put a finger on her lips. ‘None of those, although on past history they’re all entirely possible. No. I just wanted to be alone with you.’
‘Why?’ she asked seriously, although her eyes were dancing.
‘I have some matters on my mind, really weighty ones.’
‘Oh, dear! That sounds ominous.’
‘Mmm,’ he agreed and looked her up and down from beneath half-closed lids. ‘Much as I like this blouse—’ he put his fingers on a couple of buttons ‘—and I think your skirt is very elegant—I would also like to rip them off and have my way with you here and now.’
She closed her fingers over his. ‘Much as I love the sound of that, Steve, we are in the middle of a christening party.’
He took her in his arms. ‘I have a solution. How about we muster this mob off to their prospective homes? They’ve been here all day anyway.’
Chattie slid her arms around his neck and looked thoughtful. ‘Well, in about an hour Patrick will be ready for an early supper and bed. Bubbles has had such a big day, I confidently expect her to sleep for hours.’
‘All of which means?’ He stroked some of her curls behind her ear.
‘The moon should be full tonight, so, when it rises, we could have a moonlit champagne supper ourselves—and an early night.’
‘Done,’ he replied and kissed her. ‘I’ll go and speed up the mustering process.’
‘Just don’t be too…obvious about it.’ She looked comically alarmed.
‘Obvious? Me? Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘You did!’
‘Listen, can we take a roll-call of our sentiments on the subject?’ he asked rapidly and almost in military style.
Chattie removed her arms from his neck and he released her.
‘Is it or is it not a known fact that, with very little prompting, our friends can sometimes take days to be gotten rid of?’
‘Old outback custom—it has been known,’ she answered precisely.
‘Would it be fair to say—’ his dark eyes roamed over her in a way she knew well and one that always thrilled her ‘—that, historically, when things get to this stage between us there is only one way to handle it?’
She moistened her lips but said crisply, ‘That would be an accurate interpretation.’
His gaze rested on the hollows at the base of her throat where a little pulse was beating wildly.
‘Then, having done our duty to our maximum ability, are we united in a desire to rid Mount Helena of all extraneous persons with courtesy, naturally, but also speed?’
‘So long as you take responsibility for overturning old outback customs—’ Chattie clicked her heels and saluted ‘we are! I’ll come and help you.’
But she collapsed against him, laughing, and he kissed her thoroughly before they left the room, hand in hand.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7104-7
THE AUSTRALIAN’S CONVENIENT BRIDE
First North American Publication 2004.
Copyright © 2004 by Lindsay Armstrong.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
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