Книга - Husbands Of The Outback: Genni’s Dilemma / Charlotte’s Choice

Husbands Of The Outback: Genni's Dilemma / Charlotte's Choice
Margaret Way

Barbara Hannay


HUSBANDS OF THE OUTBACKThey're tough, passionate–and about to be tamed!Genni's Dilemma by MARGARET WAYGenevieve has loved cattleman Blaine Courtland since childhood, but he's only ever seemed to see her as a pretty social butterfly. A passion-filled kiss alters everything–just as Blaine is about to walk her down the aisle into the arms of another man!Charlotte's Choice by BARBARA HANNAYWhen Charlotte starts work on Matt Lockhart's Outback cattle station, she doesn't expect to meet her future husband! Her parents have already lined up a suitable marriage, but Charlie falls for Matt–hard! Now she has to choose between love and duty….









Husbands of the Outback


Two tough, powerful men no woman can resist…

MARGARET WAY—Genni’s Dilemma

Genni has loved cattleman Blaine Courtland since childhood—so why is she about to marry another man…and will Blaine really let her?

“With climactic scenes, dramatic imagery and bold characters, Margaret Way makes the Outback come alive.”

—Romantic Times

BARBARA HANNAY—Charlotte’s Choice

Lady Charlotte Bellamy is torn between love and duty: to please her family, she must accept a marriage of convenience, but her heart longs for rugged rancher Matt Lockhart….

“Barbara Hannay’s debut offers a pleasing premise with engaging characters, wonderful tension and good pacing.”

—Romantic Times


Margaret Way is a true legend in the world of romance writers and readers. She has been published for almost thirty years and is renowned for her strong, passionate characters and her wonderfully lyrical and evocative descriptions of Australia. She was born and educated in the river city of Brisbane, and now lives within sight and sound of beautiful Moreton Bay in the state of Queensland. She delights in bringing her country alive for readers. Prior to beginning her writing career, Margaret had a musical one—she was a pianist, teacher, singing coach and accompanist. She still plays the piano seriously; she also collects art and antiques and is devoted to her garden.

MASTER OF MARAMBA by Margaret Way (#3671)

Barbara Hannay was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical north Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.

OUTBACK WITH THE BOSS by Barbara Hannay (#3670)




Husbands of the Outback

Genni’s Dilemma

Margaret Way

Charlotte’s Choice

Barbara Hannay







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


GENNI’S DILEMMA (#ufe4d4d3a-68c2-52ae-8e7a-47e945d5dc16)

CHAPTER ONE (#u7a022476-e998-50a9-a542-a401ce7614a3)

CHAPTER TWO (#ued67ccda-b38d-5113-8a4d-402d2f7ee3f2)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHARLOTTE’S CHOICE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)



GENNI’S DILEMMA


Dear Reader,

It’s with greatest pleasure I join Barbara Hannay in this special novel—Husbands of the Outback. It’s a nice touch to team us together. Barbara is at the start of her career. I’ve been blessed with thirty wonderful years writing for Harlequin®. I’ve carved out a rewarding and thoroughly enjoyable career in the process, giving pleasure and comfort to many thousands of women all around the world. Could anyone ask for more?

Although I’ve written many books with different settings, my Outback stories are the ones my readership tell me they love best. Writing can be a solitary business, so it’s lovely to get feedback from loyal fans. Through all my travels around my own great island continent, Australia, washed as it is by glorious blue oceans, it’s the cloudless cobalt skies that speak directly to my heart. The great open, silent immensity of it! I stand in awe of the rugged grandeur, the starkly beautiful and dramatic landscapes. One has to see the beating Dead Heart then experience the wilderness after rain as the endless mirage-haunted plains are woven with wildflowers.

I want to share my feelings of utter bliss with you, my fascination with the great Inland, so absolutely, so distinctively Australian. The same with our Outback man. He’s a unique breed. Full of strength and tremendous energy. The quintessential rugged male who still manages to exhibit an almost “old-worldly” gentleness and courtesy. Wonderful stories have been written about the pioneers of Outback Australia, inspirational and enthralling. I want to tell you the mighty Outback man hasn’t disappeared. He’s still out there for the rest of us to be proud of.









CHAPTER ONE


The Wedding Eve

GENEVIEVE stood outside her mother’s bedroom door bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation and, she guessed, copious tears. Angel was perfectly capable of it. Generally believed saccharine-sweet, no one knew better than Angel how to make a lot of people uncomfortable. She could turn it on. And off. At the flip of a coin.

Genevieve didn’t know if she could stand it, feeling as bad as she did. After a month of agonizing about this soon-to-be-taken trip to the altar, she had lost weight to the point she was looking more spindly than slim; she had a permanent headache; she was sick to her stomach and trying to smile through it; her emotions so barely under control it hurt.

About to tap on the door and await entrée into her mother’s opulent bedroom that stopped just short of mirrors on the ceiling, Genevieve suddenly remembered with a great sense of relief Angel was going out to dinner with Toby Slocombe. She marvelled she could have forgotten, but then her brain was firing on less than four cylinders.

Toby was one of the high rollers around Sydney Town, recently divorced from his long-suffering wife of thirty years. For once Angel hadn’t been involved having just come out of a rather unsettling experience with a toy-boy a little older than her daughter. So tonight no tears to spoil the mascara. No tears to stain Angel’s ravishing little heart-shaped face. Even so she wouldn’t take it without a bit of light screaming and the usual attempt to talk Genevieve down. Genevieve felt she could just about endure that. Angel’s soft breathy voice raised a few decibels arguing nonstop. No one was home except Genevieve’s beloved Emmy, their long-time housekeeper, baby-sitter, nanny, confidante, social secretary-assistant, referee, who had been more of a mother to Genevieve than Angel the perennial beauty and social butterfly had ever been.

This is supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, Genevieve thought, avoiding all self-pity. Indeed she felt very isolated and quite guilty, tempted to do a runner. Please God help me through this, she prayed as she rapped on her mother’s door, the great emerald-cut diamond on her left hand winking and blinking heavy enough to anchor a harbour ferry.

“Come!” her mother’s voice trilled.

It was the sort of response one might expect from a celebrated prima donna, not a mother, Genevieve thought. Not a “Come in” much less “Yes, darling.” Emmy, after all, was watching one of her favourite TV shows, not surprisingly, “The Nanny,” and could not be disturbed. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry Genevieve opened the door, her eyes filled with the sight of her mother half falling out of a long sequinned evening dress in a heavenly shade of jacaranda that must have cost as much as the piece of antique furniture Genevieve was about to bump into.

“Lordy, Sweet Mamma,” she said, amazed like everyone else by her mother’s youthful appearance and all-out glamour.

Angel, the picture of seduction, threw out her slender arms and made a full turn. “Like it?”

“What there is of it, yes,” Genevieve agreed slowly. “It’s beautiful. Exquisite.”

“I’d let you wear it only you’re too tall,” Angel instantly responded, smoothing the filmy fabric over her hips.

“I’m not that tall,” Genevieve said. “Anyway, you’ve never lent me anything.”

Angel sprayed herself with another whiff of gorgeous perfume. “Genni, sweetheart, you’ve never wanted for anything. I know you’re beautiful, though I looked twice as good when I was your age, but you have your poor father’s height. And that olive skin.” Angel turned to survey her own flawless strawberries-and-cream complexion.

“Most people think my skin is great,” Genevieve answered casually enough. She always took her mother’s little put-downs with no offence. “Unlike you, I take a tan and it goes very well with my hair.”

“Our hair,” Angel corrected, touching her heavy white-gold naturally wavy locks. In her mid-forties, an age Angel kept quite secret even from her doctor, Angel wore her hair short, brushed up and away from her exceedingly youthful, marvellously pretty face. Genevieve wore hers long, sheets of it, falling to her shoulder blades. Sometimes she had it straightened but it inevitably went back into its waving skeins.

The two of them were very much alike despite the fact Angel was petite and Genevieve stood 5'8" in her stockinged feet with long, light limbs. Most people thought Genevieve was twice as beautiful as her mother and as a member of the Courtland family it was expected she would have brains, something her mother either didn’t have or concealed. Not that it affected Angel’s great ongoing success with men. In fact it might well have contributed to it.

“Genni, do you know what you’re doing?” Angel broke sharply into her daughter’s reverie.

“Nope, what am I doing?” Genevieve asked.

“You’re handling that precious piece of Sevres so carelessly you might drop it. Please put it down.”

“Sorry, Mamma.”

“Darling, haven’t I asked you not to call me that?”

Genevieve laughed, trying to cloak a lifetime’s despair. “You’re one tough lady, Angel. Do you know that? You asked me not to call you Mamma when I was barely ten years old. Not all that long after Daddy died.” It was cruel. Genevieve still thought it was cruel but she had never been one to start, in her own words, “a ruckus.” Not being able to call her mother Mummy or Mum had not only been harrowing, it had somehow affected their relationship. Underneath it all Genevieve felt terrible sorrow her mother wasn’t the complete woman.

In fact Angel was moaning now. “Oh, don’t start that again.” She always did at any mention of her late first husband, Genevieve’s father, Stephen Courtland. Angel had divorced Stephan when Genevieve was seven. Eighteen months later he had been tragically killed in a shooting accident on Jubilee. Jubilee was the Courtland flagship, the desert fortress and ancestral home. The Courtlands controlled a cattle empire that cut a huge swathe through the giant state of Queensland. Blaine was the current custodian of the flame. Blaine Courtland, Genevieve’s kissin’ cousin, prince among men.

At thirty-one, handsome as the devil and just as arrogant, he was a much respected man in a tough man’s world. Blaine had been the hero of Genevieve’s childhood and early adolescence. Eight whole years separated them but they were light years away in substance and maturity.

The little girl Blaine had always called by a string of endearments: flower face, Violetta—because of her eyes—sweetness, cherub, little pal, even pumpkin—she remembered all of them—overnight turned into that silly little idiot Genni who was prepared to waste her perfectly good brain trying to emulate her fool of a mother. Blaine pulled no punches about Angel. He actually called her Jinx to her face. A lot of it stemmed from the fact the Courtland family collectively believed Stephen Courtland’s “accident” had been no accident at all. Everyone knew Stephen had been devastated when Angel walked out on him, taking his adored only child. A serious depression had followed.

“Angel, can I talk to you?” Genevieve asked, picking up her courage.

“I don’t really have time to talk now, darling,” Angel said, hunting up her exquisite evening purse, popping in a fragile lace-edged hanky. “Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep? It’s going to be a wonderful day tomorrow. I’m so proud of you landing Colin.”

Genevieve received a mind picture of Blaine so searing it hurt her head. “I think I’ll pass on Colin,” she blurted abruptly.

“You’ll what?” Angel’s blue-violet eyes started so far from her head she looked like an adorable bug.

“I can’t go through with it, Mamma…Angel. I feel terrible about it, I know it’s what you want. What you’ve done everything in your considerable power to bring about, but I don’t love Colin. I never did. I was going through with marrying him to spite Blaine. I can see that now.”

Angel sat down heavily in a cream damask armchair, her tiny face blanching. “I’m not hearing this. I’m not!” she wailed. “What has this got to do with Blaine? You surely can’t believe he’ll be pleased about this. He’s paid for the whole blasted thing.”

She was betrayed. In that moment humiliation left her bereft. “He what?” Her desperation was almost total.

“Oh, don’t play the fool. It doesn’t work with me,” Angel scolded with some contempt. “You surely didn’t think I was going to outlay a small fortune. The Courtlands have a mountain of money. Blaine can well afford a lavish wedding for three hundred. A drop in the ocean to him. But it would leave a big dint in my bank balance.”

“My God!” Genevieve could have howled with the pain. “You let me believe you were handling all this, Mother. Yes, Mother. You are my mother, aren’t you? My father, God rest his soul, left you very well off. He loved you, the poor deluded man. He loved me. There has to be money, Mother. Look around this God-awful bedroom, this mansion of a house. Look at that dress you’ve got on. The diamonds in your ears and around your neck.”

“Will you please stop making a commotion?” Angel wrung her hands. “I have to look after myself, Genevieve. I have many more years left to me.”

“I thought you were working your head off to land Toby Slocombe?” Genevieve fired.

“Don’t you dare scream at me, you ungrateful little wretch.” Angel was furious and showed it. “How can you possibly let me down? Let Colin down? I don’t dare think of the consequences.”

“No.” Genevieve shook her head violently, in agony. “Because you expected me to help out once I got my hands on the Garrett money. You know Colin’s father is universally detested.”

“I happen to know he approves of you,” Angel said, tight-lipped with anger. “He’s thrilled Colin has finally found someone who will be a good steadying influence on him.”

“You’ve played us all like puppets,” Genevieve said, recognizing it was true. “You might give some people the impression you’re an airhead but you always get what you want, don’t you, Mother?”

Angel had the grace to flush. “I don’t know what’s got into you, Genevieve. You haven’t been the same since you got back from Jubilee. Of course it’s Blaine. He’s always so goddam polite, but I know he hates me. They all do. They blame me for Stephen. As though I was there when he tripped over that bloody fence. They’re a revolting family. So uppity. The landed elite. Yet Blaine’s own mother ran off. Dear Crystelle. Don’t let him fool you. Blaine hates women.”

Genevieve brushed a long ash-gold tendril from her face. “He was kindness itself to me.”

“You mean when you were a little kid,” Angel scoffed, jealous of Blaine’s affection for her daughter to this day.

“A little fatherless kid. I loved Blaine with all my heart,” Genevieve admitted, frightened somehow by the depth of her own emotion.

Angel gave a hard laugh. “Well, that’s all gone by the board. You two have had a very difficult relationship for years now. The arrogance of the man! He has always interfered. You’d think he was your guardian, not me. Remember the time I wanted you to be a model. You could have been right up there at the top. An international career. You had everything going for you, but no, Blaine insisted you go on to university.”

“I was a straight-A student, Angel,” Genevieve reminded her. “I didn’t want to be a model.”

That struck Angel as irrelevant. “It’s the best career a beautiful girl could possibly have. Such an exciting, glamorous life.”

“So you say. It wasn’t for me.”

Angel’s pretty mouth puckered. “So working at the State Art Gallery is better?”

“I have a Fine Arts Degree. I’m quite a good artist myself. I’m learning all the time. I’m regarded as a valuable addition to the team. All of this fades into the background now, Angel, I can’t go through with this marriage.”

That struck Angel as shocking. She burst into faintly hysterical laughter. “Not a chance you’re getting out of it,” she cried loudly. “Blaine will drag you down the aisle if he has to. Don’t forget there’s the honour of the Courtland name at stake.”

Genevieve’s violet eyes burned. “I’m only a cousin, Angel. Third cousin. I don’t really count.”

“Don’t be so sure of that, my girl.” Angel began to fiercely swing an evening-sandalled foot. “This would be the most appalling breach of social etiquette. It’s unthinkable.”

“Except if I go through with it I’ll be making the most hideous mistake of my life,” Genevieve said in a voice thin with despair. “Please listen to me, Angel. I feel so alone. Shaking inside.”

But Angel was furious with her. “Who the devil are you, Genevieve?” she shouted. “Who are you really? You’re certain of it? Why now. Why didn’t you just leave it until tomorrow morning? Climb out the bathroom window. I know you’ve seen that movie with Julia Roberts. Jumping on horses. You’ve got cold feet. All brides have cold feet. A little surprise for you, darling. You simply cannot let any of us down. You’re emotionally fragile, like your father.”

At that Genevieve’s violet eyes flashed into brilliant life. “Damn you, Mamma,” she said. “Damn you for leaving my father in the first place. Isn’t it enough that he’s dead? You’re going to defame him?”

“Now just hang on a minute,” Angel hissed. “I’m not defaming anyone. I’m saying it the way it is. You started something. Finish it. You’re going to go through with this marriage, Genevieve. Colin Garrett is a catch most girls would kill for. He’s attractive, he’s rich—or he will be, he always makes the best-dressed list, he’s more ‘in’ than ‘out’ in all the glossies. He’s ideal. I just love the way he kisses my fingertips every time he sees me. Bellisima, Angelina! he always says.”

“Why don’t you just tell him to shut up?” Genevieve continued angrily. “His mother won’t be unhappy. I know in my heart she doesn’t think we’re suited. I think she thinks I might desert her darling boy sometime in the future. Like you deserted Daddy.” Her voice quivered pathetically.

Angel tilted her head back, staring at the elaborately decorated plaster ceiling. “I didn’t desert your father, Genevieve. I just moved out. I’ve never met a man so needy in my whole life. I found his love for me suffocating, his insistence on a ‘home life’. The three of us doing things together. God, how dreary! Possessiveness can be pretty awful.”

Angel stood up in a torment. “You’ve upset me, Genevieve,” she said. “What a lousy thing to do. I accept you’re uptight. It’s certainly not unheard of. I strongly advise you have a glass of warm milk and go to bed. When you wake up in the morning you’ll feel entirely different.” She turned to face her daughter, who somehow looked fourteen years old. “Now, Toby will be here shortly. I don’t want to hear any more of this. I can’t deal with it. I don’t know either why you can’t stand the idea of Blaine’s paying for it all?”

“That’s because you’re a sponger, Mamma. You’re good at it.” Genevieve lifted her head, pinning her mother’s gaze. “But I’m going to hold it against you forever.”

“Are you?” Angel exploded, sweet voice rasping. “How dare you speak to me like this, Genevieve, you sanctimonious little twit. Blaine and I have been working together for years. He’s a very complex character, is your hero. He hasn’t approved of anything you’ve done these last couple of years yet he’s more than happy to pick up all your bills.

“Oh, yes, darling, don’t look so shocked. It might have been my deepest darkest secret, but Blaine has helped out a lot. Why not? He really did think you were a great little kid and he’s notoriously difficult to please. And you’re a Courtland. That’s a huge thing in your favour. Blaine was happy to keep you in the appropriate manner.”

Genevieve felt like a hand was squeezing her heart. “You asked him?”

Incredibly Angel became almost jovial. “Not at all. He just did it. You were the entrancing little ‘honey chile’. But I expect by now he’ll be happy to let someone else shoulder the burden.”

A deep vivid rose stained Genevieve’s golden skin. She looked up, her eyes as dark as the ocean, aware as she had never been before in her life deep inside her mother some odd malice moved. “Don’t say any more, Angel,” she begged. She, too, stood up, straightening her shoulders. “With any sort of luck after tomorrow we mightn’t have to see one another again.”

Angel heard the finality in her daughter’s voice. “Dear, oh, dear, what a silly thing to say,” she gushed. “I love you, Genni. I’m very proud of you.” She swept forward to pat her daughter’s face, wondering why when she was so pretty herself she always felt jealous of Genni’s hair, her eyes, her mouth, the radiant smile never much in evidence these days, the lovely teeth. God she even wished she was taller, then she wouldn’t have to diet so rigorously.

“The last thing in the world I want is for you to be unhappy, Genni,” she said tremulously, ready to shed a few tears. “Trust me, darling, you’re suffering from prenuptial nerves. It’s normal, not a catastrophe. Colin is so nice. Such fun, and he’ll be drowning in money. I’ve been responsible for you for so long you should feel some responsibility for me. I know tomorrow you’re going to make us all very proud. It’s my dream, honey.”

After her mother had left in a flurry of breathless giggles, hanging on to Toby Slocombe’s arm, Genevieve went in search of Emmy. Emmy was still sitting in front of the television in the small room off the library, watching an old movie, a half-eaten box of Belgium chocolates Genevieve had bought for her on her lap, short plump legs resting on an ottoman.

“Hello, darling girl.” Emmy looked up to smile; her pleasure diminishing as she saw the anguish in Genevieve’s expression. “Going to watch this with me?”

Despite herself Genevieve was amused. “God, Em, you must have seen this movie a hundred times?” She recognised Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint. North by Northwest.

“Better than the ones they make these days,” Emmy snorted. “Wasn’t he just the handsomest man?”

“He surely was,” Genevieve agreed. “Bisexual, I gather?”

“That’s just talk.” Em snatched up another chocolate. “He was a real man. Anyway, what’s wrong with you? You look like you need a stiff drink when you should be looking blissfully happy.”

Genevieve sat down, gripping her hands. “That’s just it, Em. I’m not happy.”

A pause, then Emmy said, “I was wonderin’ when you were going to realise it.” She used the remote control to switch off the television. “Want to talk about it?”

“I just tried talking to Angel,” Genevieve muttered abruptly.

“I imagine that didn’t go too well. It’s a damn shame the way your mother has been pressuring you to marry Colin.”

Genevieve shook her white-gold head, her hair caught back in a single thickly braided rope. “Don’t blame Angel, Em. I did it myself.” Genevieve lifted her beautiful eyes. “What do you really think of Colin, Em?”

Put on the spot Emmy finally owned up. “I’m with Blaine,” she said, not wishing to add she thought Colin Garrett nowhere near good enough for her darling Genni. Such a good girl. A lovely girl. Never given an ounce of trouble. Emmy would have found another position years ago only for Genni.

“Forget Blaine,” Genevieve whispered, tears starting to her eyes. “He’s been awful to me.”

“But we can’t forget Blaine, poppet,” Emmy said. “Come on, admit it. You love him, hate him, whatever. He’s always been there for you. Yet I have the feeling both of you are still only tapping into what you really mean to each other.”

Genevieve inhaled a deep lungful of air. “He’s a tyrant. Bloody-minded. He has too much power. Angel just told me he’s paying for the wedding, I suppose the wedding dress, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the flowers, the photographers, the church, the marquees, the mountains of food, the drink, the lot.” She turned her violet eyes on Emmy, who knew a great deal more than she ever said.

“And that’s upset you?”

“Upset me?” Genevieve nearly gave way to a primitive urge to scream. “It’s devastated me. I wonder what else my mother is capable of? I suppose he’s paid for everything for years.” She bit her lip hard, realizing she was on the verge of crying.

“Blaine really cares about you, Genni,” Emmy pointed out very gently. “He may be a little short with you from time to time but he’s always had your best interests at heart.”

“Isn’t that nice! He frightens me,” Genevieve suddenly admitted in a wobbly voice.

“Why, sweetheart?” Emmy, maternal by nature but childless, leaned forward, concern on her sunny-natured face.

Genevieve held her aching head. “He’s maddening. He’s a maddening man. And he has a cruel streak.”

“No. I can’t let that go,” Emmy answered with an emphatic shake of her head.

“You always take his part, Emmy. Even you.”

“Because he’s a fine man. I’ve been around you both a long time, Genni. I know how good Blaine has been to you.”

Genevieve gave a miserable sigh, lost in the utter strangeness. She wanted Blaine so badly she was buckling under the strain. “So why has he turned against me, Em?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Emmy countered so vigorously she set her grey curls bouncing.

“What a joke.” Genevieve hugged herself distractedly. “He’s frozen me out, as you very well know.”

Emmy nodded. “Something went very wrong that polo weekend.”

Even remembering made Genevieve tremble the length of her. “It was just that…Oh, God, Em.” She was drowning in the emotion that surfed through her blood. “Blaine was scathing when I told him I was going to marry Colin. He didn’t take me seriously enough. Then he flew into a cold rage. Those glittering eyes! He told me we could never be happy. He must have thought my education needed broadening because he pulled me to him so absolutely ruthlessly. I thought he was about to beat me. Instead he kissed me, which was worse! I heard stars burst.”

Emmy swung her feet off the ottoman, looking at Genevieve clutching her cheeks. “Kissed you? So he’s kissed you a million times.”

“Oh, yes, throwaway kisses? Pecks on the cheek. Weren’t you listening, Em. I said he kissed me. Really kissed me. It rocked me to my soul. It was brutal. It was brilliant. It was horrible. I thought I was going to die.”

“My goodness!” Emmy, knowing Blaine got the thrilling picture.

“There was no excuse for him,” Genevieve said. “He did it in such a way he’s ruined my life.”

“How’s that, darlin’?” Emmy asked with a great rush of protectiveness.

Genevieve looked back, startled. “Get real, Em. How can I possibly marry Colin when Blaine kissed me? I’m afraid of Blaine.”

“That powerful?” Emmy looked at Genevieve with love and understanding. She adored the girl.

“He’s turned my world upside down, Em. Maybe he didn’t mean to. But he has. I was going along okay. But now! He’s pierced me like an arrow. So strange when he’s planning on getting married himself.”

Emmy closed the box of chocolates carefully. “I take it you mean Sally Fenwick?” she asked briskly.

“Of course I mean Sally.” Genni didn’t look up. “She’s lovely and kind. They’ve been very good friends for so long. Sally is coming to the wedding. She’s staying at the same hotel. Even Hilary likes and approves of her.” Genevieve referred to Blaine’s prickly young stepsister, several years younger than herself. “Hilary hinted marriage isn’t far off.”

“Really? I thought it was a bit of a one-sided relationship,” said Emmy levelly.

“That’s because Blaine never gives anything away.”

“He kissed you. Some kiss by the sound of it.”

Genevieve’s face flared. “Blaine does everything like that, though, doesn’t he? He doesn’t realise he’s so…”

“Powerful?” Emmy hit on the right word.

“God I hate him!” Genevieve said in a small voice.

“Why don’t you tell him?” practical Emmy suggested.

“I did.” Genevieve barely whispered it. “I told him I wanted him out of my life. I told him I was sick to death of his dictatorial ways. I haven’t been able to do a thing to please him for years.”

“Why don’t you tell him again? You might get through this time.”

Genevieve considered this, then shook her head. “I won’t see him until he walks me up the aisle.”

“So tell him tonight,” Emmy pressed. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You mean go to his hotel?”

Emmy nodded. “If I were you I’d do it like a shot.”

Genevieve stared at her. “Emmy, darling, what are you saying?”

“Maybe what I should have said before. Tell Blaine what you tried to tell your mother. You can’t go through with this marriage.”

Genevieve sat erect in her chair and looked at her dear friend in alarm. “He’d be shocked out of his mind.”

“I wonder,” Emmy countered briskly.

“No Courtland would do such a terrible thing. Call off a wedding at the last moment.”

“It’s healthier than making a dreadful mistake, poppet.” Emmy leaned over to grasp Genevieve’s arm. “Blaine’s no ordinary man. Tell him what’s in your heart. Let him take charge.”

Genevieve’s lovely face looked stricken. “I don’t know if I dare. This is dreadful, Em. The house is ready. The church is ready. Our dresses are hanging upstairs. Fabulous dresses that cost a fortune. Three hundred guests are coming. The presents are all in. I don’t know if I have the courage. I don’t think I can humiliate Colin and his family. Colin’s father might very well line up a pantechnicon to run me over. He’s the Freight King after all.”

“Listen, you’ve been bullied into this,” Emmy snorted. “By Colin’s steamroller of a father on the one hand and your conniving mother on the other. An engagement of a couple of months was diabolically clever. You haven’t had time to know your own mind. But evidently Blaine’s kissing you has changed it.”

Genevieve’s face mirrored her inner havoc. “I felt something I’ve never felt in my life. I felt Blaine owned me body and soul. That he’s always been waiting for me to grow up. One kiss ended our old relationship. Dear God, I thought we were family. But it wasn’t family in my blood. I can’t deny I always thought he was the most marvellous man in the world, so exciting he makes the air vibrate, but we were cousins. I was his little Violetta. Remember how he used to call me that?”

“Oh, golly, I remember everything.” Emmy’s voice was low and wry. “Blaine has quite a way with words. For a very commanding man, daunting man at times, Blaine has his softer side. He could be very tender with you. Go to him, poppet. Pour out your heart. I have a feeling he’d pull down the stars for you if you asked him. No, don’t look at me like that. It’s true.”

“It’s not easy, Emmy,” Genevieve said sadly. “I think Blaine wants our break to be permanent.”

Hilary Courtland caught sight of Genevieve the minute she entered the hotel. Just seeing her gave Hilary a queer feeling when she’d been having a good time. Genevieve was moving with the speed and grace of a gazelle but Hilary got the impression of a deep unhappiness. Trouble, Hilary decided. Genni was looking for someone. Who else could it be but Blaine?

“Say, isn’t that your cousin?” Hilary’s male companion asked with immense interest. They’d been tucked away in a banquette, enjoying a mild flirtation, when he heard Hilary’s odd little gasp and caught her startled gaze. Intrigued, he turned his head to follow up on the direction.

“Yes, that’s Genevieve,” Hilary answered, her smile twisted, her tone a lot more revealing than she intended. Ever since she could remember Hilary had felt rancour towards Genevieve. She was Blaine’s sister yet Genni was the one Blaine had always cared about. Genni of the huge violet eyes and Rapunzel hair. Tonight Genevieve was casually dressed, navy gold-buttoned blazer, pale blue shirt, blue jeans, sneakers on her feet yet she looked like the model for the latest Ralph Lauren collection; a glamour girl like her dreadful femme fatale mother.

“God, she’s a beauty, isn’t she?” her companion commented, quite tactlessly. “Drop-dead gorgeous! How could a guy like Colin Garrett, even allowing for the Garret money, win her heart?”

“Well he has!” Hilary answered tartly, rendered almost dumb by jealousy. She put the lemon squash she was nursing down heavily and jumped to her feet. Genevieve appeared to be moving toward the bank of lifts. She had to stop her before she reached Blaine. She had to break what was coming up.

“Don’t go away.” She tossed a false smile at her boyfriend. “I’ll have a word with her and I’ll be right back.”

Her companion waved her off. “Take your time.” In actual fact he felt cheated out of meeting the gorgeous Genevieve. What was she doing here alone this time of night? Whatever it was, it didn’t suit Hilary. She looked upset. Perhaps trying to make sense of her cousin’s unexpected appearance.

Hilary, a small pretty dark-haired, dark-eyed girl but without the Courtland stunning good looks and height, put on a burst of speed. She reached Genevieve just as she was about to step into a lift.

“Hey, Genni!” she called, using such an urgent tone people turned their heads.

“Hilary!” Genevieve turned about, doing her utmost to hide her dismay. For all her efforts to be friendly to Blaine’s young stepsister she had long since realised Hilary would never like her. “What a surprise!”

“And where are you off to?” Hilary fixed Genevieve with big questioning eyes.

Genevieve felt most unwilling to confide in this moody girl but what excuse could she offer? “I wanted to see Blaine for a moment,” she explained as casually as she could. “The receptionist said he was in.”

“Actually he didn’t go out.” Hilary reached out confidentially for Genevieve’s arm and drew her away. “He and Sally are making a night of it. They had dinner together in the hotel. He’s with her now, if you know what I mean?” Hilary rolled her brown eyes expressively. “I’d leave whatever you wanted to ask him to the morning if I were you. You wouldn’t want to embarrass them.” She smiled her kitten smile.

God no! Genevieve felt pierced by an arrow, at that moment ready to flee.

“What is it, anyway? Maybe I can help you?” Hilary’s voice had grown unabashedly affectionate as Genevieve’s desperation slipped out.

“I don’t think so, Hills.”

“Try me.” Hilary guided Genevieve to a couple of chairs. “You know you really will have to get over running to Blaine for help,” she warned gently, unsuccessfully trying to keep her jealousy opaque. “This time tomorrow night you’ll be a married woman.” Hilary couldn’t help herself. She smiled in broad triumph. “You’ll be entering a new life. Your name will be Genevieve Garrett not Courtland. Isn’t that thrilling?”

Quietly, Genevieve removed the other girl’s small hand from her arm. She had never felt less thrilled in her life. “You’ve never liked me, have you, Hilary?” she said levelly, putting years of pretence to one side. “On this night of nights, please tell me. What have I ever done to you?”

Hilary burst into a cascade of tinkling laughter. “Oh, my, Genni, surely you know having you around changed my entire life. For the worse.”

“In what way? Why on earth have you been afraid of me? I would never want to hurt you. We could have been friends. Good friends. We’re cousins. We could have forged an unbreakable bond. But you would never let me get close.”

“Why on earth would I when you had perfected the art of getting between me and my brother.” Hilary’s pretty face was set into unpleasant lines.

“You’re talking nonsense, Hilary.” Genevieve was feeling sicker by the moment. “It’s so unfair. To me. To Blaine. He loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t. Not really. I don’t touch his heart. What heart he has he reserved for you. The fatherless child.” Hilary gave in to the huge temptation to say her piece. “Hell, you seduced him when you were a kid. You even robbed me of my father’s love.” A little sob rose to her throat. “When Dad was alive you used to twist him around your little finger. He hardly noticed me. I was the changeling in the Courtland fold.”

Genevieve felt she might burst out crying, too.

“Hilary how did you let all this bitterness grow in your heart? It’s not true. Not any of it. How long have you felt like this?”

“Since forever.”

“Poor Hilary! You’re breaking my heart,” Genevieve said and meant it.

“I don’t think so.”

“Absolutely,” Genevieve replied, feeling like she was mortally wounded.

“That’s why I’m glad your getting married.” Hilary smiled almost genially. “I knew one day you’d be out of our lives.”

“That’s no way to talk.” Genevieve rose to her feet in protest. “How can you feel like this, say such things to my face, and still come to my wedding?”

“Why?” Hilary looked up at Genevieve, brilliant malice in her eyes.

“Because dear, sweet, beautiful, Genevieve, it’s the day my brother will give you away forever.”

Hilary was still sitting there feeling slightly shaky, but thrilled to have dispensed with the fleeing Genevieve, when Blaine suddenly materialised beside her, almost making her jump out of her skin.

“Isn’t that Genni?” he demanded in the kind of voice that demanded a straight answer.

It took a tremendous effort for Hilary to pull herself together. How could she deny it? That white-gold rope of hair, the model figure, the grace of movement. “Yes, she just popped in to say hello.” She tried a blithe smile, thinking fast.

“Damned odd.” Blaine looked like he was about to take after her, such a restless radiance about him.

“Not really.” Hilary rose, grasping her stepbrother’s arm. “She and her bridesmaids were having a girl’s night out. That was Genni’s BMW parked out the front. Not supposed to do it, of course, but trust Genni to pull it off. A pity. You just missed her.”

“And how was she?” Blaine bent his light lancing glance on his stepsister.

“Oh, lovely! Deliriously happy.” Hilary turned an innocent face to him. “I’ve never seen a girl so much in love.”

“The little fool!” Blaine’s hard, handsome mouth tightened. “He’ll never make her happy.”

“But he will, Blaine,” Hilary insisted, hugging her brother’s arm. “She’s the love of his life!”

And we’re finally free of her.

“Don’t,” Blaine warned, his voice so strange Hilary stared at him vaguely terrified.

“Where’s Sally?” she asked in an effort to divert him.

“She went home an hour ago.” Blaine was still frowning, looking more formidable by the minute. “Surely you knew? We went right past you and your friend.”

“I must have missed you,” Hilary lied. “Sally’s a darling. Mum and I are delighted she’s the woman in your life.”

“Don’t be so dim-witted,” Blaine responded impatiently, his eyes silver chips in his arresting dark face. “Your mother thinks no such thing. As for you? A bit of wishful thinking. Are you sure that’s all Genni wanted?” he insisted. “To say hello?”

“What else?” Hilary wanted to turn and bolt, instead she lightly punched his shoulder. “She’s on top of the world. I am family.”

“So why did you turn down the role of bridesmaid?” Blaine challenged, giving her that lancing look that always made her feel so exposed.

She tried to make a joke of it. “You know. Genni’s so tall. So are her friends. I didn’t want to be the little pipsqueak in the middle. Genni understood. Come and join us for a minute.” Hilary had a powerful nervous urge to draw her stepbrother away.

“No thanks.” Blaine glanced down at her. “I want to leave a message at the desk. Goodnight, Hills. Sweet dreams.”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his lean cheek. “You, too, brother mine. It’s going to be a wonderful day tomorrow. Like Genni, I can’t wait.”




CHAPTER TWO


The Wedding Day

GENEVIEVE’S four bridesmaids, Tiffany, Montana, Penelope and Astrid, were scattered across her mother’s enormous bedroom chattering and laughing, high on excitement, making minute adjustments to their bridesmaid gowns in a glorious palette of turquoise, fuchsia, lilac and violet, fanning out the voluminous silk skirts, tweaking the short sleeves that ballooned out from the ravishing off-the-shoulder necklines, smoothing the narrow tapered waistlines—all of the girls had been on a strict diet for a month: light breakfast on the day, absolutely nothing until the reception—settling their beautiful floral headpieces, works of art in themselves that matched the colour spectrum of their gowns. Each wore a necklace of twisted palest pink freshwater pearls with the clasp worn to the front, specially chosen to compliment their wonderful dresses—blue topaz, pink tourmaline, amethyst, sapphire—all set in an 18-carat-gold bezel, gifts from the bridegroom, Colin Garrett, heir to George Garrett, the Freight King.

“You should think about getting into your dress now, Genni,” Angel urged, feeling a mite cross at her daughter’s inappropriate lack of enthusiasm. “It’s getting seriously late.” She turned to waggle her fingers at the chief bridesmaid, Tiffany, a statuesque honey-blonde, who walked into Angel’s dressing room “the size of a department store with twice as much merchandise” as Tiffany had confided to her mother and emerged holding Genni’s gown aloft.

“Here comes the bride,” Tiffany tried to speak playfully but she, too, was perturbed by the look in her friend’s eyes, so poignant it was painful to behold. It couldn’t just be nerves. Genevieve looked very much like she didn’t want to get married. Not to Colin Garrett anyway despite the fact many women including Tiffany herself found Colin very attractive.

“Wow!” Montana gave a mesmerized gasp as the others crowded around. “It’s so beautiful it takes my breath away.”

“Me, too!” Astrid agreed, visibly affected. Five times a bridesmaid, she was starting to feel like she was being passed over. But what a gorgeous creation was this gown! Thousands of seed pearls, tiny rhinestones and crystals glimmered on the tight-fitting off-the-shoulder ivory silk bodice, an exquisite pattern that was repeated around the hem of the beautiful billowing skirt.

“I can’t wait to see you in it, Genni.” Astrid, her shiny dark hair gathered into a deep upturned roll at the nape, looked towards her friend. “It’s so absolutely you. I have to see you in it. Come on. You’re so nervy you’re turning me white.”

Genevieve managed to laugh as she always laughed at her friend Astrid. “It seems to me I’m giving my life away.”

Obediently she lifted her long slender legs exquisitely shod in handmade satin courts, stepping into her gown and standing perfectly still while her mother made short work of the long zipper in the back.

“Good God, Genni you’ve got terribly thin,” Angel protested, giving an exasperated sigh. “The waistline could do with another tuck.”

“It’s all right,” Genni insisted, edging away quietly. “Don’t fuss, Angel. I want no fuss.”

“All right, my darling. All right.” Angel trilled, adopting a rare motherly tone to counteract Tiffany’s look of veiled censure. Cheek of the girl! Someone should remind her of her manners. Angel continued to stare into her daughter’s face, feeling a cold wave of panic.

Genevieve had tried to open her heart to her but she hadn’t wanted to listen. Still didn’t for that matter. She was so bloody desperate to get Genevieve married off to the right man. Someone who knew how to respect a beautiful mother-in-law and shower her with gifts. But under the silky golden tan she always had in summer Genni was very pale, her violet eyes so huge they dominated her small face. They seemed to be the only colour about her. Maybe her lipstick, in a luminous frosted rose, needed a heavier application, a touch more blusher? Angel concentrated hard.

“Now the veil!” Montana, the only one not feeling the tension or misinterpreting it as normal bridal jitters approached carrying the full-length tulle veil tenderly over her arm. The headpiece of three exquisite full-blown silk roses, pink and cream with touches of gold was already set in place. Genni was wearing her hair long and loose, the natural curl exaggerated by her hairdresser to suit the romantic conception.

“All right, sweetie?” Montana, very pretty with short caramel-coloured hair, looked at her friend carefully. A number of expressions flitted across Genevieve’s face. Enough to suddenly make warning bells go off in Montana’s head. Colin was very rich, a lot of fun, but admittedly he couldn’t hold a candle to someone like…someone like…well, someone like Genevieve’s cousin, for instance, Blaine Courtland, the big cattle baron. But he was family, the man who was giving Genevieve away. The man due to arrive in about ten minutes at the house.

“Genni’s a bit stressed.” Angel threw her daughter a bracing look. “Big weddings are always like this.” Together she and Montana adjusted the full-length two-tiered tulle veil edged with the finest band of crystals.

“You look truly beautiful, Genni. You bring tears to my eyes.” Montana very gently kissed her friend’s cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world. One thing’s certain, Colin will always make you laugh. If he hadn’t fallen in love with you I’d have been after him myself.”

“You were after him, darling,” Astrid slipped in somewhat tartly.

Montana snorted in self-derision. “With Genni around I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Hold up your head, Genni!” clucked Angel, looking absolutely delicious not to say saucy in a light-as-air, sheer-as-silk aquamarine chiffon with swirls of gold and a colourmatched confection on her head that looked like some fabulous intergalactic butterfly had landed. “And do please try to smile.”

Genevieve wasn’t sure she could. Conflicting emotions were threatening to overthrow her and she was starting to feel stomach cramps. On one level she couldn’t bear to be the cause of a dreadful scandal, the gossip columns would outdo each other in their efforts to blame her. Mention would be made of her notoriously fickle mother. She couldn’t bear to bring pain and humiliation to the perennially light-hearted Colin. He trusted her. He wanted her. She wasn’t absolutely sure he loved her. He certainly hadn’t shown her an excess of passion. She knew that now.

He didn’t like the way she was embroiled in the art scene, either. He gave no sign he was interested in her artistic talent, or indeed any artistic talent at all. She’d once dropped the name Jason Pollock into the conversation and Colin thought he was a property developer. His father, George Garrett, was certain to go ballistic. Even now she could hear his great booming voice in her ears, but George Garrett was the least of her worries.

She felt such a fool. Yes, fool was the right word. And one she had to live with. A fool nursing pure loss.

Blaine, as always, was right. She only wished to God he had never kissed her. Before that it had been so easy to hide from herself. Now she felt thoroughly exposed for what she was, a woman prepared to go through with a marriage because the groom had been extremely nice to her. Of course that could be attributed to the emotional deprivation of her childhood. How could she ever have imagined she was in love with Colin?

She was beginning to wonder if she even knew what love was. Overnight she’d turned into a different woman. She knew the why and when. That was when she should have found the courage to act instead of waiting until three hundred guests had put on their wedding finery and left for the church. She either had to go through with it to avoid a terrible mess or lock herself in her bedroom and refuse to come out. If only she could have spoken to Blaine last night. She had so desperately wanted to.

Weeping inwardly, she realised she had to summon up the strength to wipe Blaine from her mind. Blaine had his own life. His marriage to Sally was coming closer, as Hilary had confided. Genevieve just knew she couldn’t bear to be around when that happened. Blaine was lost to her. The very thought got her moving. An action that had Angel muttering a short prayer of gratitude.

“Party time!” she cried. “I’m not sure if you’re not the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Some people have all the luck,” Astrid murmured in an aside to Tiffany, which wasn’t exactly the most appropriate response.

“Well, let’s get moving people.” Angel clapped a little sharply. Exquisitely fashioned at a scant five-feet-nothing, Angel was nevertheless temperamental, demanding, something of a bully as Emmy could and did attest. “You look gorgeous, all of you,” she cooed, revelling in her soon to be new status of adored mother-in-law. “One final inspection before you go out the door. I can’t believe the big day has finally arrived.”

Floating down the giant central marble staircase that would have done justice to Scarlett O’Hara, Tiffany wished she’d surrendered to an early desire to talk her friend out of this marriage. “Angel’s euphoria doesn’t appear to have worn off on Genn. She looks like she wants to do a runner,” she whispered to Astrid, who by way of response grabbed Tiffany by her beautiful ballooning sleeve.

“Perfect! If Genn doesn’t want to marry him he can marry me.”

And there was worse to come. Downstairs Blaine Courtland had arrived. He stood in the marble-floored, flower-bedecked entrance hall, peonies, lilac branches, delphinium, roses, perfect carnations, looking upwards with eyes as brilliant as diamonds. He wore the traditional grey frock coat, grey trousers, waistcoat and a sapphire-blue satin cravat with a diamond stickpin, but his stunningly handsome face sported no smile. Indeed it appeared he, too, didn’t feel like a wedding, although it was common knowledge on the grapevine he had paid for the whole thing.

“God, isn’t he brilliant! The cattle baron,” Montana muttered to Penelope. She was thrilled to be moving in such a world of wealth and glamour. “I’m mad about dark smouldering types with a cleft in their chins. Purple passion, you know.” She gave Penelope a rather awful dig in the ribs.

“He’s spoken for, darling,” Penelope reminded her. “Sally Fenwick. Well-known pastoral family. Minor royalty.”

“Wouldn’t we all like to be,” Montana groaned. “But shouldn’t someone remind him it’s a wedding we’re going to. He looks a bit scary. For-mi-dab-leh as the French would say. I tell you, Tiff, there’s something going on.”

It was certainly starting to look like it. Genni didn’t look happy. Neither did her cousin who exactly fitted the picture of the sort of man Genni should have married, Tiffany thought even as she recognised that simply wasn’t on.

For as long as Tiffany had known Genni, coming up twelve years now, Genni had idolized her cousin, although of recent years Genni had confided he had hurt her badly by treating her as though she wasn’t really capable of managing her own affairs. “He can be awfully rough on me!” Tiffany remembered Genni’s exact words. This marriage had to be one of those times. Both young women in their conversations had made extravagant attempts to steer clear of any rapids. It was Angel who had engineered the whole wedding, Tiffany suddenly realised, making glorious lovers out of just good friends.

Her heart labouring in her chest, Genevieve hugged the polished railing as she made her way slowly down the staircase to the magnificent gallery-style entrance hall supported by massive marble columns. Angel was seriously into drama though to Genni’s eyes there was always an over-abundance of everything.

But on this day of all days she didn’t notice the artworks, the soaring fresco ceiling, breathtaking chandelier and grand golden console and mirror with so much ormulu it would have looked a whole lot better at Versailles. She only had eyes for Blaine. Loving him as she now found she did had to be her tragic secret. He looked magnificent but so stern-faced staring up at her, such a glitter to his eyes she felt like she was drowning in a silver lake.

Yet when she finally reached him, as though drawn by a powerful magnet, he bent his crown black head to kiss her cheek. “Hello, cherub,” he murmured. “You look exquisite. I knew you would.” His voice dropped lower, for her ears only. “I want to tell you, Genni, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what happens. I’ll never let anyone hurt you. Or make you unhappy.”

She made a small sound of agony, her violet eyes burning in her pale face. “Oh, Blaine! Why couldn’t I talk to you last night?” she implored.

Instantly his black brows drew together and his lean powerful body radiated a kind of menace. “You wanted to talk to me when you came to the hotel?” he questioned, his voice with an imperative note to it.

Electric tension seemed to be flashing all around them. It was in his face, in his remarkable eyes. She was afraid where it could lead. “It’s all right, Blaine.” Her voice vibrated a little wildly. “All right. It would have been too late anyway.”

“What?” He grasped her two hands and took them firmly in his own. “I need to know what you mean, Genni? Don’t be afraid.”

But I am afraid, she thought passionately. Afraid of you and what you mean to me. Afraid of my own feelings that have grown and grown like some monstrous secret flower.

“All right there, Blaine, Genni?” Angel who had been concentrating on fastening the clasp of her diamond bracelet that matched the sunburst on her shoulder now called, shooting anxious eyes at them. She had always been aware on some deep unprobed level Blaine and her daughter shared an unbreakable bond.

Blaine ignored her, his entire attention focused on Genni. “Genni, you’ve got to tell me the truth.” His voice was low and taut. “Do you love this man?”

There was a moment of rushing silence. It was now or never. Then she remembered Sally. Sally at this year’s celebratory Polo Ball with Blaine’s gorgeous orchid pinned to her evening dress. Sally beaming with pride as people turned to see her and Blaine together. Sally looking for Blaine the moment he moved out of sight, eyes moving rapidly around the room. Sally hugging his arm.

“I must do, Blaine,” Genni answered quietly. “I’m going to marry him.”

“This is something you really want?” Clearly he still didn’t believe her.

“God, Blaine, you’re so unrelenting.” Wanting to punish him as he had punished her, she spoke fiercely, in so much pain, so much pride, it was important she stop him from questioning her further. It was all too late. Colin had pursued and won her. Not Blaine. No matter what, Blaine was lost to her.

“I’m sorry.” He dropped her hands at once, his dark high-mettled face now closed against her. “Forgive me. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

“I know you don’t,” Genni found herself responding wildly, too far gone to care. They were almost on the verge of one of their monumental arguments.

“Be careful what you say,” Blaine warned, his eyes narrowed to mere slits.

In the entrance hall everyone stood around absolutely enthralled by what was going on between Genni and her commanding cousin. Although no one could make out what was being said, the body language told them heaps. There was grief, anger, and hurt, a raging that looked like antagonism. Genni’s face was still very white but a high colour burned her cheeks. From stillness she had burst into abandoned brilliant life.

It wasn’t looking good. Angel had the dismal feeling the two of them might just up and away. On the point of desperation, concerned for their every move, Angel stepped in. “Photographs people!” She turned swiftly to snap her fingers at the society photographer, Bernard, famous for his designer weddings, who gave no indication whatsoever he saw or heard her. “Then we really should be leaving for the church.”

“There’s time, Angelica.” Blaine glanced briefly at his watch feeling like a lion wanting to protect its young. No one was going to push Genni into marriage. “Anyway, isn’t it fashionable to be late?”

It was unless one had a great deal of worry on one’s mind. Blaine was a man capable of anything, Angel thought, hustling them all into the spectacular formal living room with its breathtaking views of Sydney Harbour.

“You’re over here, Blaine, next to me,” she cooed, hoping to God Blaine would calm down.

Such was the severity of Blaine Courtland’s expression everyone was amazed when he actually crossed the floor to tower over the petite Angel, five-three, and she was wearing high heels.

“I don’t like the way Genni is acting,” he told Angel, staring across the room at her. “If she’s not entirely happy about this marriage, there’s still time to bail out.”

Just when Angel had a horror Genni was about to do just that. “Blaine, darling, you can’t be serious?” A superb actress, she sounded amazed. “Every single day Genni has been telling me how happy she is. How much she loves Colin. They were made for each other. Soul mates!”

“Rubbish!” Blaine corrected very bluntly. “When you’re madly in love with someone you don’t look like Genni does now. I know her too well.”

“But goodness, darling, you’ve never been madly in love with anyone, so how would you know?”

“Simple. You really should take time off to try and understand your daughter. Anyway, any woman I’ve been involved with is still my friend, which is a damned sight more than you can say of your two husbands and assortment of gigolos.”

“You loved saying that, didn’t you, darling?” Angel, unfazed by the hard truth, pulled a little face. “Sometimes, Blaine, you can be absolutely dreadful.”

“When Genni’s happiness and well-being is put on the line, yes,” he acknowledged brusquely. “Look at her, Angel. Forget yourself and your plans. Look at Genni. She’s as white as a snowdrop.” His glittering grey gaze was directed to the centre of the overly grand room where Genni was being posed by Bernard in front of the white marble fireplace. It was adorned with a great abundance of white roses and green tracery topped and outdone by a large portrait of Angel in a deliciously low-cut blue-satin ballgown painted during the halcyon days of her ill-fated first marriage.

“God, I don’t believe this,” Blaine muttered blaming himself for not simply kidnapping the bride. A hundred vivid memories of Genevieve flitted through his head. The adorable two-year-old with her radiant violet eyes and riot of platinum curls.

He’d been ten years old when his father’s favourite cousin, Stephen, had brought his little daughter to Jubilee. A difficult ten-year-old, hard to handle. A boy who already knew despair because his beautiful mother had abandoned him and his father and run off with her lover. An event so unexpected, so out of character, he sometimes thought he was still in a state of shock.

Genni had come into his life at the right time. Over the years he had given her all the love his heart could hold. She was so innocent, so vulnerable, so sweet-sassy intelligent, so generous with her affections.

As Stephen and Angel drifted further and further apart Genni had come to spend more time at Jubilee where she was back with her “cherished” Blaine. How close they had been then. It seemed he had taught her everything. How to swim, how to ride, how to handle a gun, how to find her way around the bush, how to survive. What he hadn’t been able to teach her was how to pick the right men. In fact from about seventeen he’d been in despair about Genni’s choices. Not a one good enough for her.

Certainly not Garrett, though loaded with money and a certain easy charm, he was short on substance. The more he had tried to tighten his hold on her, the more Genni had flown into little wild rages, claiming where he had once loved her now she was always in high disfavour. It wasn’t true. He was hungry in spirit for the old easy relationship, but over the past few years an odd constraint had grown between them neither of them seemed to know how to break. Genni no longer ran to him for advice and comfort. Or did she? What was she doing at the hotel last night? Hilary had told him Genni had paid the visit to her. He should have known better about his stepsister’s wiles. The unfortunate truth was Hilary had a deep-seated jealousy of Genevieve. Everyone in the family knew it, just as they knew Hilary had grown into her own worst enemy.

While Blaine brooded, his eyes like jewels, Angel was saying quite merrily, “Genni looks perfectly happy to me, darling. A touch of bridal jitters, no more.” She reached up to pat Blaine’s lean tanned cheek. “You’re worrying about nothing,” she said softly. “You always did have a powerful urge to keep Genni to yourself.” Angel smiled as she watched Bernard straighten Genni’s long beautiful veil. “Isn’t her bouquet fabulous?” She smiled proudly. “You can’t beat Hughie Rickman for flowers.”

Blaine answered with such terseness it could easily have been interpreted as profound disapproval. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but no one, not even Genni herself, can convince me she’s in love with this guy. I can’t have her marrying a man she doesn’t love.”

At the sweep-all-before it note in his voice, Angel put a trembling hand to her breast. Only for her deep concern for her makeup she would have been in tears. “Blaine, maybe you’ve got a problem,” she suggested. “Genni hasn’t.” She lifted her face to him, despite herself pierced through with his wondrous blue-blooded aura. “You can’t always run her life. You’re here to give her away, my dear. In under a half hour you and Genni are going to do the grand march down to the altar. I know both your lives will change, but look on the bright side. You won’t have to worry about her any more. You won’t have to pick up all the bills.” She said it totally without embarrassment, but Blaine answered with the merest lick of contempt.

“We’re not talking about money. Everything would be fine if only I could believe Genni is marrying the man she loves.”

His radar was working too well. “Blaine, darling,” Angel tried her most convincing voice, tilting back her head so she could look him directly in the eye. “My daughter told me only last night never in her life has she been so happy.” Telling fibs was one of Angel’s lifelong specialities. “And she’ll never want for anything, isn’t that wonderful?”

Apparently that didn’t thrill Blaine at all. “Who the hell cares about that?” he retorted in a low burned-up voice. “She couldn’t be stupid enough to marry just for money?”

Angel was amazed by such a view. “That’s all very well for people who have tons of it,” she responded. “Money is way too good to pass up.”

Blaine gave a weary sigh. “I just hope your outlook hasn’t rubbed off on Genni,” Blaine responded tautly. “There’s much too much to her for the likes of Garrett. I liked him well enough when Genni first brought him to Jubilee but I never thought for one minute he was the man she was seriously considering marrying.”

It was hard indeed to sound nonchalant. “Go on, darling,” Angel teased. “I’m sure Genni tried to tell you. I know you really care about her but you don’t show her much tenderness. The truth is your father’s daunting manner spilled over on you. Genni fell head over heels in love with Colin. The only person who didn’t know about it was you.” Angel gave her tinkling laugh that held quite an edge.

It was Bernard the society photographer who halted Blaine’s searing retort. “Pardon me?” Bernard called, struggling with his own radar. “It’s your turn now, mother of the bride.” He bowed gracefully in Angel’s direction, though he hadn’t taken to her one bit, “and the bride’s very distinguished cousin, the well-known cattle baron, Mr. Blaine Courtland. I can’t let you get away.”

“God!” Blaine muttered beneath his breath, feeling Angel’s small hand sneak into his as though he was too, too dear to her. In a few minutes he would have Genni alone in the car. He would be as gentle as he knew how with her. Angel’s reference to his “lack of tenderness” had really stung. It was deserved. He was desperate now to get Genni to reveal her heart. He knew precisely how he felt. Every atom of his being was steeled against giving her away. If his instincts were correct beneath that exquisite bridal exterior Genni was screaming for help.

Inside the stretch limousine Genni sat very quietly in all her wedding finery, the billowing silk skirt stretched out over the seat, her veil arranged to one side lying in a foaming cloud atop it, looking determinedly out the window. If she dared to chance a look at Blaine sitting opposite her, he would recognise her despair. Even now she was fighting hard to keep the tears from welling into her eyes.

“Blaine,” she said soundlessly over and over, trying to draw strength from just his name “I love you. I’ll always love you.” The knowledge was like a physical blow to the heart. Without food—she hadn’t been able to eat a bite of breakfast—she felt dizzy and disoriented, caught up in a scenario Angel might well have written. I can’t do this to myself. I can’t do this to Colin, Genni agonised. He mightn’t adore the ground I walk on but he deserves better than a wife who doesn’t love him.

She started violently when Blaine suddenly reached over and caught her hand. “God, Genni. You’d think you were a winter bride. Your hands are freezing.” He began to rub them, warming them in no time because her blood caught fire. “Angel took me to task back at the house. She told me a truth about myself I had to hear. I haven’t been terribly kind to you of late, have I? As your mother put it, I haven’t shown you much tenderness.”

The admission nearly annihilated her. There was such a sparkle of tears behind her eyelids. “I haven’t been very nice, either,” she whispered. “The strange thing is, I don’t have a temper with anyone else but you. You make me fly apart.”

“That much, cherub, is obvious,” he said dryly. “I know I’m too high-handed, too dismissive of what seems to me frivolous stuff. You have to make allowances for me. The thing is, Genni, I’m committed to something really important. Your happiness. No, don’t shrink away from me,” he begged as she leaned back and shut her eyes so aware of him she felt he was invading her. Body and soul. “I know you, Genni. I used to know you, anyway,” he added wryly, with that irresistible sparkle in his beautiful eyes she so loved. “Just tell me once more—the last time, I promise—tell me you love Colin. That your dearest wish is to marry him?”

Such was her emotional state Genni had difficulty remembering Colin’s face. “Please, Blaine, can you stop asking me?”

“No.” He shook his dark head. “If you’re frightened you must go through with this, just tell me. I’ll take care of everything,” he told her with that hard masculine authority. “It’ll be a nine-day wonder but there will be life after.”

Will there? Genni’s thoughts went back to Sally Fenwick. “Hilary told me you and Sally are coming around to setting your own wedding date?” Once more she averted her head, looking sightlessly out the window.

Blaine turned her head back to him, loving and hating the sight of her in her glorious wedding dress. “Is that what Hilary said to you last night?” he demanded, his tanned skin lit by anger.

“She might have.” Genni, too, was flushed; upset enough to jump out of the car. “Please, Blaine, don’t torment me. It would mean everything to me if you could respect how I feel.”

“When your heart is racing? When I can gauge what you feel through my palm?” His laugh was low and savage. “If it weren’t so goddam lunatic I’d believe you’re trying to get back at me for kissing you. There’s no one, but no one like you for doing that.”

“Then why did you?” Her breath trembled in her throat. “It shocked me so much I nearly fainted.”

“I remember,” he reminded her bitterly. “I was there.”

“Why, Blaine?” She stared at him with her violet eyes, the urge to know consuming her. “You changed everything in a few moments.” The power and the cruelty of the man!

“Did I?” He put his hands to either side of her, making her a prisoner. “You think about that, Genni. With my mouth on yours it didn’t feel like you didn’t want it.”

Overwhelmed, she looked down. “And you betrayed Sally!”

He made a sound of complete exasperation. “Don’t be so damned silly. Sally is a friend. A good friend, but she’s not a woman I’d dream about. I’ve never cared about anyone like I care about you.”

“Yes, as your little pet. Not a grown-up woman.”

“We’re not back to that again, are we?”

He drew away from her, his luminous eyes pure silver.

“Not ever. You’ve got some idea I can’t live without you. But I’ve got news for you.” Her words shrilled and trembled so, she was grateful for the glass panel that separated them from the chauffeur. “I’m going to marry Colin.” Even as she said it she despised herself.

“And make a mess of your life?”

“You’re so nasty, so…caustic…”

“Sad to say I am, just as you’re so provocative. You know the dark depths in me, Genevieve. You’re as used to my outbursts as I am to yours. I don’t know about the chauffeur, if he can hear us. I haven’t handled you particularly well of recent times. For that I genuinely apologise. It has all come out so badly because I couldn’t seem to reach you. You were dead set on defying me at every turn. In fact you gave me hell.”

There was truth at the heart of it. She could see it clearly now. “Don’t. I love you,” she admitted passionately. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Am I making any sense at all?”

“I’m afraid not.” His answer was crisp. “You’re not happy. That’s obvious. You need a man who can set you alight. Do you think I haven’t seen you incandescent? Women are such strange creatures. I’ll never understand them.” He said it like it might have been a curse.

Forlornly, Genevieve touched the exquisitely decorated bodice of her wedding gown. “Why did you never tell me you were paying for all this?”

He closed his eyes against the surge of hot anger. “I wish to God your mother could keep her mouth shut.”

“I feel seared by shame.”

“How ridiculous!” He sounded thoroughly stirred up. “You’re family.” God, that’s wrong. For a moment he couldn’t speak. Then as he glanced out the window he was shocked to see they had arrived at the church. Media photographers were in attendance, standing slightly apart from the crowd of onlookers that had gathered to see a bride well known to them through the social pages.

The bronze-polished skin on Blaine’s face was stretched taut. “I’m not the kindest person in the world, Genni, but I’m here for you.” His expression suggested only one word. Action. “Unless you’re going happily into this, it would be better, far better, to stop it now.”

For a moment hope glimmered, then she heard the oohs and aahs of the crowd. “For God’s sake, Blaine, I’d be a social outcast. Help me to go through with it.”

“Are you crazy?” He could crush her to him with one arm. Drag her away.

“Yes.” She was finished and she knew it. Her mind reeled as the chauffeur came round to open her door. She could see her old life slide by. People were moving closer, waving and smiling, the photographers already shooting their pictures.

Please God help me, she prayed devoutly. Help me out before it’s too late. I know I deserve this but I truly didn’t understand my own heart.

That same heart bursting, Genevieve found herself standing out on the footpath to much applause while the designer of her gown fussed around her, settling her billowing silk skirt, adjusting her long froth of a veil.

“Isn’t she beautiful!” came time and again from the crowd, but Genni didn’t register the compliments. She felt she had the weight of the world on her shoulders instead of her wedding veil.

“Well?” Blaine gave her his arm, hovering over her inches over six feet, devastatingly handsome, the man who was to give her away, but the expression in his shimmering eyes was anything but family.

I’ll love you always. Had she spoken it or thought it?

Only she had not known, had not understood that love at all.

What was going on here? Warren Maitland, the dress designer, thought in amazement. He simply couldn’t imagine but his gown, his creation was gorgeous. So was the bride who looked like she mistook the cousin, the man who was to give her away, for the bridegroom. Maitland didn’t believe any girl could look at a man like that and not be madly in love with him. In that moment, a trained observer, he sensed major scandal looming.

As if under a spell Genni found herself walking into the wonderfully picturesque old church, leaning into Blaine and on his arm. Where their flesh touched, it burned. It all had the quality of a dream to her. She could hear the music, the emotive swell of the organ; she could see her bridesmaids just inside the church. The elegantly dressed guests seated in the pews, so many of them, some had jetted in from overseas. Oh, God, for what? The pews were decorated with white satin ribbons. The altar luminous with white roses. Colin was waiting up there. Colin and his friends. She breathed and breathed, but she couldn’t get enough air. She was going away…fainting…in front of her eyes a field of stars. The last thing she heard was Blaine saying her name…





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/barbara-hannay/husbands-of-the-outback-genni-s-dilemma-charlotte-s-choice/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.