Cattle Baron Needs a Bride / Sparks Fly with Mr Mayor: Cattle Baron Needs a Bride / Sparks Fly with Mr Mayor. Margaret Way
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her head. Their eyes met. He took a deep breath that was like a knife thrust. He realised, too late, he had just been sitting there staring at her.
A million miserable damns!
He couldn’t change how she affected him.
He couldn’t unmake the past.
Ecstasy and betrayal often went hand in hand.
Workmen were swarming all over the grounds when he went down to do a few quick laps of the pool. It was a magnificent blue and gold day with the prediction of plenty more perfect days to come. A great omen for the wedding. He woke in the predawn, as was his habit, but for the initial few seconds he couldn’t think where he was. His dreams had been anything but restful. Predictably filled with a Zara who kept walking steadily away from him up a rising slope. She was even managing to dominate his unconscious. At one point in the early hours he had woken with one hell of a start, thinking her body was curled around his.
How crazy could a man get?
Getting through the wedding was going to be a lot tougher than he’d thought. The trick was to focus on Corin and his beautiful Miranda and forget his own problems. He wasn’t proud of the fact that the woman who had betrayed him still had immense power over him. No wonder men got so angry when they were treated like fools.
By the time he pulled himself out of the pool two splendid white marquees had been erected, with a third underway. Buffet tables were being put swiftly in place with several women waiting to drape them with white damask tablecloths and, he understood, gold moire over-cloths to match the elegant gilt chairs. Excitement was in the air. No doubt about it. He had never seen Corin happier. That counted for a lot.
He was towelling himself off when Zara surprised him by materialising at his shoulder. He hadn’t heard her. He’d been too busy watching the proceedings as she had come across the plush emerald grass.
“You were up early,” she said, slipping off her flimsy cobalt blue and white cover-up and placing it neatly around the back of a chair.
“Wow!” It came without volition. For a few moments arousal closed his throat.
“Wow?” she questioned, raising her brows.
“Yes, wow, wow, wonderful wow!” he said shortly, angry with himself for making any comment. He felt the predictable blood rush to his loins; more heat from the sight of her than the sun. There was an element of déjà vu in it too. How many times had he and Zara swum together in Coorango’s Blue Lady Lagoon? Sometimes with swimsuits, sometimes without. Acting wild. He could still visualise her naked body, her long black hair streaming down her back, creamy skin that never tanned, huge eyes locked on his, each hypnotised by the other.
I love you, Rick. I always will!
And I adore you! We’re perfect together.
Every atom of his being—his whole psyche—had told him it was true. Zara was the only girl in the world he wanted to marry.
But that was another time. Another place. Only deep, deep memories would never fade.
“Well, thank you,” she said and smiled. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” A priceless piece of understatement.
“Hard work tends to keep one in shape,” he snapped.
“Still tanned all over?”
“That you’ll never know.”
“Don’t make statements that might be used against you,” she said softly.
“And don’t you try flirting with me,” he warned. “You’ve had your day. Full stop.”
“And every day since I’ve died a little.”
He swung on her then, blue eyes blazing.
“Okay, okay!” She held up the palms of her hands in surrender, head held high and proud. “I disgust you. But you haven’t found anyone. Neither have I.”
“Maybe we damaged one another. Leave it, Zara.”
Showing a little agitation she withdrew a long hairpin from her hair; the sun made it gleam, like a thoroughbred’s coat polished high for a race. What a glorious thing was a woman’s mane, thick and sleek and straight. Her white one-piece swimsuit was cut high at the leg to make the most of her beautiful graceful limbs. The plunging halter neckline revealed a tantalizing glimpse of the sides of her small but perfectly shaped breasts. The top section of the swimsuit was printed with cobalt blue and silver. Plunging neckline or not, she projected her innate refinement and elegance.
He forced himself to look away. He picked up his discarded towel, giving his thick hair a vigorous once over.
“You’re not going, are you?” She raised a hand to block the sun from her eyes.
“I’ve had my swim.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“Stay, please,” she begged. “Miri is coming down. It will make her happy to see us together. You know—friends.”
His eyes shot over her then, narrowing, intensely blue against his darkly tanned skin. “Ex-lovers. Friends has nothing to do with it. Anyway, I thought I fulfilled my obligations last night.”
“We had a lovely time,” she said, more a statement than a question.
“And you were so sweet,” he mocked. “I’m supposed to feel good?”
“Well, at least you look good.” Her face softened. She gave a little shaky laugh. “Here’s Miri now. Please stay on a while, Garrick.”
“Okay, I will, for Miranda’s sake. Her New Zealand family are arriving before lunch, aren’t they?” He ran a hand through his hair, quickly drying in deep crisp waves. A slight frown appeared on his forehead. “I didn’t even know until last night that Miranda had a family in New Zealand. But then I know very little about her. I even had the notion that side of her family was darn near a closed topic.” He gave her a searching look, not all that surprised when she turned her beautiful head away from him. It seemed to him—he could be wrong—there was a story there.
“Well, her distinguished grandfather will be giving her away and her cousin Isabel will be one of the bridesmaids. There was a family rift. Sadly, that went on for many years, but all’s well now. That’s the main thing.”
“I guess it is,” he agreed, “but there’s a lot you’re not telling me. Broad outline. Not enough detail.”
“Why would you say that?” She spoke too quickly, too intensely. A dead giveaway.
“Zara!” He stopped her with a look. “I can read you like a book. Anyway, leave it for now. I very much like Miranda. Corin is a lucky man.”
Chapter Three
EVERYTHING went exactly as planned. The church ceremony was so beautiful, so much a celebration of the heart, many a married woman abandoned herself to a gentle nostalgic tear that often escaped onto the cheek, while the young and the not so young but ever hopeful vowed to make up for lost time and get working towards achieving a magical wedding of their own. As an occasion, nothing could beat a wedding. This one was glorious, a real fairy tale affair, the legendary once in a lifetime. Excitement was running high. Great swirls of genuine emotion, impossible to describe, but it enveloped them all. At least for a time.
Miranda was the living fulfilment of the radiant bride. Her whole countenance, her extraordinary turquoise eyes, shone with love and joy. Here was a bride her groom could worship. Her beautiful silk wedding gown, traditionally white, was strapless, the bodice encrusted with crystals and tiny faux pearls, the silk endowed with a wonderful luminescence. The style, cut by a master, suited her petite figure perfectly. The skirt flared just enough from a tiny waist so as not to over-whelm her. There was a short train at the back. The lustrous fabric of the billowing skirt had been intricately