Substitute Bride. Angela Devine
supposing James turns up while we’re viewing the house? Won’t he get a bit of a shock if Sam introduces me as his fiancée and then marries a completely different woman the weekend after this?’
Bea gave a throaty chuckle.
‘Don’t be such a worry-wart, Laura. James won’t set eyes on you today. He’s going to look at a prize bull for his beef herd and he’ll be miles away. All he needs to believe is that I’ve shown up, as per instructions. And you’re wearing my clothes and make-up, so everyone else will think you’re me. What can possibly go wrong?’
Laura found out the answer to that shortly after lunchtime. It was a crisp, sunny late winter’s day, with snow blanketing the dark blue mountain that loomed behind the city of Hobart and dazzling sunlight reflecting off the paler blue waters of the Derwent estuary. After an uneventful flight, a few hours’ shopping and a pleasant lunch at the Sheraton, she was beginning to think her earlier fears had all been groundless. Until she went to the real estate agent’s office to meet Sam.
‘Hello—Miss Walters? My name is…Bea Madison. I’m supposed to meet my fiancé, Sam Fraser, here, and we’re to view a house together.’
‘Yes, of course, Miss Madison. But I’m afraid your fiancé hasn’t arrived yet and I have another appointment at two o’clock. Would you mind if I take you directly to the house, and we’ll leave a message for him to come and join us as soon as he gets here?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Laura, although she couldn’t help feeling slightly taken aback. Where on earth could Sam be?
The house was enchanting, and she felt a brief pang of envy at the thought of Bea living there. Dear Bea, she was so sweet, but she would never appreciate the perfection of the glowing pink camellias in the garden, or the dark panelled entrance hall, or the gracious old sitting room with its antique furniture and its sweeping green lawns that led right down to the beachfront. Bea wasn’t interested in tranquillity; she would far rather have a penthouse in the middle of Sydney’s hectic King’s Cross any day of the week!
Laura wandered round the house, touching the polished woodwork and thinking how much she would like to live there herself. Only her feelings of awkwardness about the situation and the occasional furtive glances that the real estate agent kept darting at her watch made her feel at all uncomfortable.
‘Miss Walters, if you’ve got another appointment, could you leave me here to wait for Sam?’ she asked at last. ‘I’d be only too happy to do that. I can always…er…measure up for curtains or something while I’m waiting.’
The estate agent’s face cleared.
‘Well, if you’re sure…’
‘I’m sure. Thank you for showing me around.’
With a feeling of relief, Laura retreated into the dining room and heard the other woman’s steps receding down the front path. She was just beginning to relax when the sound of a stopping car and an exchange of voices brought her senses back to full alert. One of the voices was the real estate agent’s, high and twittery, but the other was deep, resonant and masculine. Laura hurried into the entrance hall with a welcoming smile on her lips.
‘Sam, I’m so glad—’
She stopped in her tracks with a chill feeling of misgiving. It wasn’t Bea’s fiancé who stood in the doorway surveying her from under frowning dark eyebrows. In spite of his twenty-four years, Sam always seemed like a big kid to Laura, but there was no questioning that this newcomer was a fully grown man.
He was tall and powerfully built, in his mid to late thirties, with glossy dark hair and a face as arrogant and haughty as an eagle’s, with the same disconcerting tawnyeyed stare. The resemblance to a bird of prey was intensified by the strong line of his nose and the pitiless, predatory curve of his mouth. Although he was dressed in conservative well-cut clothes—a camel-coloured cashmere coat worn over brown woollen trousers, a beige shirt, heather mix tie and tweed jacket—Laura couldn’t control the rush of dread that overtook her at the sight of him.
A flurry of adjectives crowded into her mind to describe him, all of them inadequate. Shrewd, dangerous, demanding, unforgiving. The kind of man who made every woman in a room come on heat the moment he appeared. When he advanced on her with his hand outstretched, she flinched visibly.
‘You must be Beatrice,’ he said, seizing her cold fingers in a warm, crushing grip. ‘I’m Sam’s uncle, James Fraser.’
Her spirits plummeted, and the knowledge of her false position filled her with a hot rush of shame. In that moment her confidence ebbed away, so that she no longer felt like a grown woman and a capable accountant. Instead she was an eleven-year-old orphan with a knot of dread in her stomach and a fierce determination to protect her little sister. But how could she protect Bea now? The game was up and the only thing she could do was confess the truth.
As she looked into James Fraser’s opaque golden eyes she knew with a sickening feeling that he would never forgive either of them. She should never have let Bea talk her into this ridiculous imposture!
‘There’s something I have to explain,’ she began haltingly. ‘An apology—’
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ he cut in. ‘You’re going to tell me that Sam’s been caught up in this wretched airline strike so he can’t join us here. Don’t worry, there’s no apology needed. I know all about it.’
That was more than Laura did. She stood staring at him in horror.
‘Airline strike?’ she echoed stupidly.
‘Oh, hadn’t you heard? The passenger planes all around Australia have been grounded since eight o’clock this morning. You were lucky you left Sydney when you did. Once I heard the news on the radio I realised that you’d be stranded down here without Sam to look after you. Under the circumstances I decided I’d better drive down and rescue you. If you’ve finished looking over the house, I’ll drive you back to my home on the east coast and Sam can join us there as soon as he can find transport.’
Laura blinked as the full horror of her situation began to dawn on her.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said faintly.
‘Not at all. And there’s no need to look as if I’m going to bite you. My intentions are friendly, I assure you.’
As he spoke he gave her a fleeting smile which made her feel more alarmed than ever. There was something feral in it, mingled with an unexpected charm, so that Laura’s heart knocked against her ribs and she was left feeling oddly breathless. Oh, Lord, that’s all I need! she thought in dismay. A case of teenage heartburn for Wicked Uncle James.
What upset her most was the way that he was meeting her evasive glance with an amused, mocking stare, as if he could read her thoughts. Worse still, he seemed to realise that she found him physically attractive and his reaction was alarmingly blatant. His eyes narrowed as they rested on her and he ran the tip of his tongue along his slightly uneven white teeth, as if he were wondering how she would taste. There was something indecently sensual in that action.
As far as James Fraser knew, she was his nephew’s intended bride. So how dared he look at her as if she were something succulent to eat? Or was she imagining it? After all, was it really likely that a man as devastatingly charismatic as James Fraser would be looking at her with a gleam of naked lust in his eyes? Of course not! Now, if she really were Bea, it would be understandable. All the same, his silent, lazy scrutiny made her go hot and cold with consternation.
Fortunately she was saved from replying by the sound of the real estate agent’s footsteps returning down the path. The older woman smiled at her and handed her a mobile phone.
‘It’s your sister, Laura, Miss Madison. She wants to speak to you. Why don’t you take it into the sunroom if you want some privacy?’
Feeling slightly schizophrenic at the announcement that Laura wanted to speak to her, Laura staggered