The Saxon Brides: Mistaken Mistress. Tessa Radley
me to believe that you and Roland were ‘friends’?”
Joshua gave friends such a mocking intonation that she flinched. But she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
He tilted his head sideways, examining her. “You wanted something from him. Did you think Roland would feed you the story of a lifetime?”
“No, seeing Roland had nothing to do with any story.”
“You’re trying to tell me that hooking up with my brother meant more to you than the sniff of a story?”
She nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Joshua fell silent, a frown grooved between his guarded eyes. “You know, I’m starting to believe that Roland meant something to you. That you’re grieving for him as much as we are.”
Before Alyssa could respond to his unexpected concession, he’d set off with her bag in the direction of the main house.
They found Kay in the library, working at a big walnut desk overlooking the gardens that rolled down to where the vineyards started.
“Your houseguest.”
“Joshua—”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t stay, I need to get back to the estate.” Joshua set down her overnight bag and slung the dinner jacket onto a leather chair. “Don’t forget that we arranged to go to see Amy tonight.” He glanced pointedly at Alyssa. “It’ll probably be better if you stay here.”
“It would be rude to leave Alyssa. She can come, too.”
“No, it will be too upsetting for Amy—if she ever discovers the truth about why Alyssa was so eager to attend the ball.”
Kay blinked, the only sign that she’d remembered what Alyssa had told her in the cemetery about Joshua’s belief that Alyssa was Roland’s lover. For a moment Kay looked indecisive then she said, “If you think so, dear.”
“I do.” To Alyssa he said, “As soon as you’ve settled in, come find me. I’ll be in the winery.”
“Oh, but … I thought I would get to know Alyssa a little, especially if she and Roland were …” Kay’s voice trailed away “… close.” Her eyes darted everywhere—except Joshua’s face.
But he didn’t notice; he was too busy glaring at Alyssa.
“Behave yourself then,” he growled.
Which she took to mean that she was not to ask Kay too many questions about Roland for the tribute she was writing.
After Joshua had gone, Alyssa turned to Kay. “I know this must be very hard for you. Rather than talk about Roland so soon maybe we can take a walk around the vineyard.”
Kay sniffed but her eyes remained dry. “I want to talk about Roland. It happened so fast. Roland and Amy were due to get married in December. Phillip and I were looking forward to grandchildren—now he’s dead.”
“Children … I’ve never thought of children.” Or a niece. Or a nephew. Or a sister-in-law like Amy. “I hadn’t thought beyond finding Roland. He was the family I’ve been looking for since I learned I was adopted.”
The stark statement hung in the air.
Kay’s eyes darkened until the gray had turned almost black. “Oh, Alyssa….” She hesitated then she opened her arms.
Alyssa walked into them, conscious of the scent of lavender that clung to the older woman. At last she stepped away.
“I feel so … lost.”
“What about your parents? Wouldn’t it help to stay awhile with them right now?”
“My mother—adoptive mother—died of cancer three years ago. That was when I really stepped up my search for Roland. She’d never been keen on my finding my natural parents—or Roland when she learned I had a brother.”
Kay gave her a peculiar look. “Maybe she feared she might lose you.”
“How could she ever lose me? She was my mother, she’d raised me. I loved her.”
“What about your adoptive father?”
“He remarried last year—his new wife wanted to live on Australia’s Gold Coast with her daughter and two granddaughters.”
“So in a space of a few years you’ve lost your mother, your father has gone away … and now your birth brother is dead.” Kay looked quite ill.
“Yes,” Alyssa whispered, the pain of it all closing her throat. “But you’re going to share a little of Roland with me … and that’s so much more of him than I’ve had before.”
Once the Saxons had driven off to visit Amy that night, Alyssa felt strangely deserted. Using the remote to switch off the television, she was plunged into silence and within seconds the vast quietness of the homestead enfolded her. Other than one solitary creak of the beams, the lack of sound was absolute. Picking up the photo album that Kay had shown her earlier, Alyssa started to browse through.
A sharp burst of nostalgia pierced her as she stared at the images. Roland as a baby with only a little ginger fluff on his head. As a toddler, holding a new-born Joshua. A photo of Roland on his first day of school, gap-toothed, his red hair slicked down, with Joshua and Heath in front of him, as different from them as fire from coal. Roland and Heath smiling like little devils while Joshua stared solemnly at the camera, his gaze already self-possessed and direct. No Megan yet. Just the three boys.
The next page showed Roland on a bay horse, grinning as he held a great, big silver trophy aloft while Megan and Joshua stood on either side of the horse’s head, looking proud and pleased.
When she’d finished paging through the album, Alyssa set it aside and made her way to the kitchen, which Kay had asked Ivy, the friendly housekeeper, to show her around earlier. There was a tray set out for her. In the fridge was the slice of quiche and bowl of salad just as Kay had promised. But Alyssa didn’t bother to nuke the quiche in the microwave. She set the empty wineglass to one side and made herself a cup of cocoa instead and, picking up the tray, made her way out.
At the foot of the stairs Alyssa paused. Her room lay upstairs, along with Megan’s quarters, and Kay and Phillip’s suite. Downstairs was the wing that housed Roland’s rooms—and Joshua’s. A wave of shame swept her at the memory of what had so nearly happened in Joshua’s bedroom the night of the ball.
Curiosity propelled her down the stairs. At the base of the stairs the area opened up into an airy sitting room furnished with a large plasma-screen television, two brown leather sofas and a pair of armchairs. She’d caught only a glimpse of it on the night of the ball when Joshua had hauled her through.
An immense kauri bookshelf covered one wall that closer inspection revealed was filled with books on viticulture and a couple of rows of crime novels interspersed with classics. The opposite wall was filled by an abstract study of an incoming tide that looked like a John Walker. A narrow arch led to a sleek, streamlined galley kitchen gleaming with stainless steel appliances and beside it lay a cosy dining area.
Leaving the sitting room, Alyssa glanced both ways down the passage that led off the sitting room. At one end, a door stood ajar, at the other, the door was firmly closed. With soft footsteps she made her way to the closed door at the far end. The handle twisted under her touch. As she stepped through the doorway, her throat closed.
Without a doubt this was where her brother had slept.
It hurt too much to stand beside the double bed that he would never waken in again. Through an archway she glimpsed a desk. A few steps took her to what had clearly been his private domain. His trophy room. Two glass-fronted cabinets held an impressive array of silverware. A closer look revealed schoolboy medals for athletics, awards for rugby, while trophies for eventing were prominently displayed, holding pride of place.
She