Cattle Baron Needs a Bride / Sparks Fly with Mr Mayor: Cattle Baron Needs a Bride / Sparks Fly with Mr Mayor. Margaret Way
hall.
“The feeling is mutual,” he said. His eyes were on her delicate shoulders and straight back. “It’s you who seriously messed up. By the way—” he paused, wanting to know the answer “—Corin doesn’t know about us, does he? Or the dubious us we were.”
She didn’t stop, knowing he was baiting her. “No need to bring your suitcase,” she said. “Someone will bring it up.”
“Just answer the question,” he returned curtly.
Now she turned to face him, feeling racked with emotion. His height and strength, the grace and vibrant life. If only one could wish for one’s time over again! Had she known it, her eyes, huge and haunting, dominated a magnolia-pale face.
She was the most desirable woman in the world, despite the way she had treated him, Garrick thought, struggling against a rush of fever and remembered passion.
She messed you up once. Don’t let her do it again.
“You didn’t read my letters, did you?” she asked sadly, one slender hand holding on to the gleaming brass handrail, as if for support.
Anger was driving him now. He made a grab for it. Got it under control.
Don’t let her see she’s getting to you.
“What was the point? You were never coming back to me. You made that abundantly clear. You were just spreading your wings. Taking advantage of all I felt for you.”
“I was scared of my father,” she said, superb actress that she was, managing to still look upset and frightened. “He called. I jumped.”
Garrick fired up, his voice like a whiplash “Oh, rubbish! Your father gave you everything! You wanted for nothing.” He knew he was betraying far too much emotion.
“Only in some ways,” she said. Garrick didn’t even know the half of it. “Ever since I was a little girl—even when our mother was alive—my father was such a controlling man. He controlled her.” Tears pooled in her beautiful dark eyes. Resolutely, she blinked them back. “I never had the courage to challenge him. That shames me now. I should have been braver. But my father scared strong men witless. You might consider that. Tough business people, not just servants or the like. Only Corin could stand up to him. I had to pay the price for so closely resembling my mother. Corin was the heir. I was the daughter. A nothing person. Daughters were nothing. But he would never forfeit control. You didn’t really know my father, Garrick, any more than you knew Leila. You remember her as a charming, super-glamorous woman, warm and friendly. The reality was very different.”
“I thought you weren’t going to speak ill of the dead,” he reminded her harshly. “And you weren’t a handful, I suppose?” he challenged. She was standing on the first step. They were almost eye to eye. He could have reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Your father confided he was greatly disturbed and disappointed in the way you did everything in your power to make life extremely unpleasant for your stepmother. Leila, according to him, and her, incidentally—though she said little against you—tried over and over to please you, to establish a connection, but you weren’t having any. As I say, it was understandable, but don’t lay all the blame on Leila, who isn’t here to speak for herself.”
“Well, it appears she has you,” she retorted sharply, visibly stung. “You feel my father and Leila were more trustworthy than me?”
“God, yes!” he freely admitted. “Why would they lie? They appeared most sincere. I know there was a lot of conflict.” He frowned. “We all more or less knew that. Bringing a beautiful, much younger wife into the family was bound to have repercussions.”
“It did that.” She turned away, as though realizing it would do no good whatever trying to enlist his sympathy. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk about it. You’ve obviously made up your mind. You don’t seem to appreciate that you were blessed, Garrick. Both of us might have been born into wealth and privilege but you grew up with wonderful parents. To most people, being the Rylance heiress meant everything was within my grasp. That wasn’t so. Being wealthy carries its own burdens. You know that. One can buy relationships. People want to know you, be seen with you. But one can never buy love. It’s not for sale, when love is everything in life.”
He gave vent to a theatrical groan. “Oh, please! I had love for you, Zara. Do you dimly remember that? You didn’t want it. I knew at the time I wanted you more than you wanted me, but that was okay. What you gave me filled my life with radiance. Hope for a glowing future. In reality, there was no hope. What you actually did was expose me to a lot of wasteful unhappiness. You weren’t worth it. I detest devious, dishonest behaviour above everything.”
Colour swept her face in a rosy tide. “Then your memories are distorted. I wasn’t playing any game, Garrick.”
He found himself gritting his teeth. “Please do shut up, Zara,” he said. “We have a history of heartache, but we can’t turn this weekend into a battlefield now, can we? What’s past is past.”
Her gaze turned inward. “What did the American author, Faulkner say? The past is never dead; it’s not even past. You and Julianne suffered no family traumas like Corin and I did. You had a wonderful mother and father. Your father is the loveliest man—I’m hoping to see him. He invited me to Coorango.”
That piece of information came like a king hit “What?” He couldn’t control the fierceness of his tone. He went after her, taking hold of her arm. And there it was again. The zap of electricity that raised the short hairs on his nape. His eyes blazed, bluer than the finest back-lit sapphires. “Dad couldn’t have done that without telling me.”
“He’s still master of Coorango, isn’t he?” she challenged, her whole body trembling in his grasp. “Your mother would like to see me too,” she swept on. “Helen and I always did get on. She loved my mother. She told me so.”
That, at least, was true. For an instant he felt as though his structured life was imploding. “And when is this supposed to be happening?” he rapped, releasing her as though her touch burned him. Which, indeed, it did.
She spread the long pale fingers of her hands. “I think they thought—please be calm, Garrick—” she begged,”—I could fly back with you.”
“You can’t be serious.” He spoke flatly. “Neither of them said a word of this to me.” Shock was enveloping him. His parents told him everything. There were no secrets. They had been invited to the wedding as a matter of course. Only his father wasn’t anywhere near well enough for the long journey and his mother wouldn’t leave her adored husband. Perversely, he now realised some part of him wanted Zara to come, amply demonstrating his stupidity where she was concerned.
“So there’s a story behind this, is there?” he accused her. “You asked could you come. My parents wouldn’t refuse you. No doubt Coorango is as far away as you can get. I suppose people are still talking about your involvement with Hartmann.”
She moved swiftly away from him to the first landing. A portrait of a very elegant auburn-haired woman in a pink silk gown, late nineteenth century, hung on the wall directly behind her, a stunning backdrop. “A section of the media did their best to destroy me. Mud sticks. I have to live with it. But no one who knows me or loves me doubts my word. Konrad’s vast business dealings were under suspicion for a long time. We all knew that. But it took a lengthy, painstaking undercover operation to reveal the truth.”
“Look, I don’t want to hear about your conman ex-lover. Let’s go upstairs,” he said dismissively, picking up his suitcase again.
“Of course.”
They didn’t speak until she stopped outside a bedroom door a distance down the wide corridor, hung with more valuable giltframed paintings. Antique chairs and tall Chinese porcelain vases atop carved mahogany stands were set at intervals.
“I