A Wife At Kimbara. Margaret Way
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she cried, Eliza Doolittle style. He was indeed. On the other side of the field Broderick Kinross was stripping off his polo shirt to exchange it for another. His jet-black hair, thick and waving, gleamed in the sunlight with a matt of dark hair spreading across his darkly tanned chest then narrowing down to his close fitting jodhpurs.
He was an incredibly handsome man. So much so Rebecca felt a sudden uprush of desire that alarmed her. Not that he was flaunting his splendid body or paying any attention to the heated glances of the female spectators enjoying the spectacle from around the field. He was too busy sharing a joke with his friend, Rafe Cameron.
Rebecca wished for a moment she had a camera. She’d like to photograph these two magnificent young men together. Of a height, wonderfully fit, perfect foils. Brod for all his brilliant blue eyes was dark, deeply tanned by the sun whereas his friend had a thick mane of pure gold hair that was quite stunning. The other brother, Grant, busy chatting up a pretty girl, shared the family fairness, but his hair was more tawny with a touch of red. Both she had remarked when introduced had hazel-gold flecked eyes.
“Quite something aren’t they?” Fee hooted, following Rebecca’s gaze. “A pride of lions only Brod is the panther among them.”
“They’re all very handsome,” Rebecca agreed. “I’m surprised they’re not all married.”
Fee shook her beautifully coiffured head. As dark as Rebecca’s until her fifties she was now close to blond. “But surely you know?”
“Know what?” Rebecca stared directly at her. More revelations?
“I thought Stewart might have mentioned it,” Fee said. He certainly spent enough time chatting to Rebecca. “At one time we all hoped Rafe and Alison would tie the knot. They were very much in love but somehow Alison got cold feet. Product of a broken home perhaps. She ran off to Sydney much as I ran off to London, though I left no great love behind.
“As we know she’s become highly successful. So life goes on. Wild horses wouldn’t get it out of him but I believe Rafe was devastated. At any rate he won’t allow Alison back into his life.
“As for Brod. He’s a hot favourite. Always has been. But Brod will make darn sure he picks the right woman. Grant is a couple of years younger than both of them. He’s been working terribly hard establishing his helicopter business. All three are big catches for the girls.”
“I’ll bet!” Rebecca smiled. “Stewart did tell me a little about Alison’s broken romance.”
“So are you interested?” Fee pulled herself up to capture Rebecca’s luminous gaze.
“My career is important to me, Fee,” Rebecca answered lightly.
“A woman can’t do without love in her life.”
“So I’m learning from your biography,” Rebecca quipped instantly.
“Cheeky.” Fee smacked at Rebecca’s slender arm playfully. “Don’t leave it too late, darling. That’s all.” She spread a beringed hand. “Here comes Stewart. He doesn’t look quite as enthusiastic as he did at the start of the match.”
“Brod didn’t exactly give him any quarter,” Rebecca pointed out dryly.
“Each man for himself on the polo field, my chick,” Fee drawled in her distinctive voice, which still had so much sex appeal in it. “How’s it going, Stewie?” she called a little tauntingly, entirely on her nephew’s side.
Stewart Kinross studied his sister rather stonily for a moment then said with slight indignance. “We’re doing fairly well. Anything can happen in the second half.” He switched his glance to Rebecca, dressed like Fee in a silk shirt and narrow cut linen pants only her outfit was pristine white whereas Fee was a kaleidoscope of colours and patterns with a lot of glitter he didn’t find attractive. “You’re loving it aren’t you, Rebecca.” He smiled at her, a remarkably handsome, mature man.
“I’m a little worried for you, Stewart,” Rebecca admitted truthfully. “It’s a dangerous game.”
As a response it was a disaster. “I like to think I keep up, my dear,” he answered, looking a bit huffed.
“Oh, Stewart, you do know what I mean,” Rebecca protested softly.
He looked deep into her eyes seeing God knows what. “That’s fine then, my dear. It’s Brod who’s putting himself at risk. Maybe you could tell him to his face.” He looked back towards the field. “Though I must have done something right…I taught him all he knows. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Ah well.” He glanced back to smile at Rebecca. “I must be off. Time’s up.”
Rebecca realised she shouldn’t say, “Take care.” Instead she gave a little encouraging wave while Fee, enjoying every moment, bit back a laugh. “Darling, were you really suggesting Stewie is over the hill?”
A soft little cushion was to hand. Rebecca used it.
“Hey, hey.” Fee leaned forward and caught it. “Stewie doesn’t like to think he’s settling into the twilight zone. For that matter neither do I.”
In the end Brod’s team won and Rebecca watched as a tall, good-looking blonde in skin-tight jeans and a blue T-shirt that showed off her shapely breasts, went up to him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with much relish.
“Liz Carrol,” Fee said with a grin. “She likes him. Can’t you tell? Then again, why hide it?”
“Is she his girlfriend?” Rebecca found herself asking, though she hadn’t intended to.
“What do you think? Brod sees a few others but most of the time he’s just too darned busy. He’s got a big job—for life. When he picks a wife he’d better pick well.”
Eventually it was Rebecca’s turn to congratulate the winning team, standing before the captain wondering why she felt so terribly perturbed by a pair of brilliant blue eyes. Had anyone ever looked at her like that? What kind of look was it? Whatever it was it acted like a magnet.
“Fee told me you were a little anxious at the action,” he said leaning back against a rail, looking down at her. Oh, yes, she was beautiful.
Rebecca nodded unapologetically. “Today was my first experience of polo. I have to admit some of it scared me. I thought Stewart would be thrown from his horse at one stage during the first half.”
“You were concerned.”
She stared up at him, revealing nothing. “Why not?”
He shrugged and flung an arm up to rest on the rail. “He’s been thrown before and survived. We all have. I’m curious to know, what do you think of my father?”
“I’m sure I’m not supposed to say I hate him,” she said coolly. “I think he’s many things. As are you.”
“Include yourself in that, Miss Hunt,” he answered sardonically, studying the way her dark satiny hair curved around her face. What did she do? Polish it with a silk scarf? “Even Fee knows remarkably little about you.”
“Have you asked?” she challenged, her rain coloured eyes widening.
“Indeed I have.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d be interested in me.”
Yet she bit her lovely full lower lip. “I’m sure you have many a dramatic revelation to divulge,” he drawled. “I’m just blunt enough to point out you’re turning my father’s head. It’s not often I see him take such glowing pleasure in a young woman’s company.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.” Perhaps she, too, would have made an actress.
He laughed. “Then why is that magnolia skin stained with colour?”
“It could be your lack of discretion,” she countered.
“Actually I’m trying