Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Copyright

“You can’t possiblymarry him!”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because you want to go to bed with me.”

Laura gasped. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Tell me, Beatrice, what’s it like when Sam kisses you?”

Beatrice. Laura dropped her gaze and turned crimson.

“When he kisses you, does it make your heart pound as if you’re running a marathon? Do you love him, Bea?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

“Liar,” James breathed, and hauled her into his arms. “This is what a kiss should be like.”

ANGELA DEVINE grew up in Tasmania surrounded by forests, mountains and wild seas, so she dislikes big cities. Before taking up writing, she worked as a teacher, librarian and university lecturer. As a young mother and Ph.D. student, she read romance fiction for fun, and later decided it would be even more fun to write it. She is married with four children, loves chocolate and Twinings teas and hates ironing. Her current hobbies are gardening, bushwalking, traveling and classical music.

Substitute Bride
Angela Devine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘MIRROR, mirror, on the wall, should I many Raymond Hall?’

Laura Madison gazed steadily at her own perplexed reflection and heaved a faint sigh. At twenty-nine she had begun to think of herself as a confirmed career woman, and Ray’s proposal the previous evening had taken her completely by surprise. Although they had been friends for more than a year, she had never imagined that he thought of her as a possible wife.

A competent accountant, yes. A theatre companion, a tennis partner, a fellow gourmet, certainly. But someone who would share his entire life? It was unthinkable! Yet she had promised to think about it…and to give him his answer today. Her spirits sank at the prospect. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, with her sister’s crazy request blurted out over the telephone only an hour ago!

Suddenly the loud toot of a car horn down below broke into her reverie. She hurried into the sitting room and hauled up the window.

‘Bea!’ she whispered in exasperation. ‘It’s only five thirty a.m. You’ll wake the people in the other flats! And that’s a no parking zone.’

Her younger sister grinned up at her, thrusting her long hair back off her face in a gesture that made her one of the most photographed models in Australia. Evidently Bea’s mercurial spirits had taken an upward turn after her earlier gloom.

‘Who cares? Anyway, you’d better hurry up or you’ll be late for the airport.’

Plodding back into the hall and giving herself a final, despairing grimace in the mirror, Laura picked up her overnight bag and went downstairs.

‘Now, are you clear on what you’ve got to do?’ asked Bea, reversing out of the driveway with a squeal of tyres that made her sibling shudder.

‘Yes!’ retorted Laura savagely. ‘I fly down to Tasmania on your plane ticket, pretending I’m you. Sam will arrive on a later plane and meet me at the real estate agent’s office. Then we go and view the house together. But I still don’t see the need for all this.’

‘I already explained it, La-La,’ said Bea, weaving in and out of the Sydney traffic, which was already heavy even at this hour. ‘A wonderful house has just come on the market at a bargain price and Sam’s uncle James wants to give it to us as a wedding present. But he only has a twenty-four-hour option to purchase, so we must look over it today. Except I can’t fly to Tasmania myself, because I’ve got to go to court here in Sydney on a dangerous driving charge. It’s so unfair! I wasn’t driving dangerously. My foot just slipped on the accelerator and—’

‘Never mind that now!’ cut in Laura. ‘Why don’t you simply tell Uncle James that you can’t come with Sam?’

‘Because he already disapproves of me. I’ve never met him, but from what I’ve heard he really hates the thought of his precious nephew marrying an airhead fashion model. He’s already spoken to Sam several times on the phone, trying to persuade him to call off the marriage because he thinks I’m such a fruit-loop. Too young, too irresponsible and “everyone knows that models sleep around”.’

‘But that’s utterly unfair!’ cried Laura hotly. ‘Why should he condemn you when he’s never even met you?’

Bea shrugged. Although she was trying to look tough, Laura saw the unmistakable flash of hurt in her dark eyes. It brought back memories of Bea at the age of five, clutching her teddy and glaring defiantly at the fosterworker who had taken them into care after their mother’s death.

‘Search me,’ said Bea. ‘It seems a bit rich considering that good old Uncle James has a reputation for seducing anything that moves, while I’ve only ever slept with Sam. But everyone in the Fraser family seems to dance to James’s tune. Even Sam.’

‘Why? What’s so special about this man?’ demanded Laura indignantly.

‘Well, according to Sam, he’s tremendously dynamic and hell-bent on having control of everything—not to mention filthy rich and dangerous to oppose. To be honest, I think Sam’s very brave to insist on marrying me when James is against it. And I don’t want James spoiling the wedding by becoming even more poisonous, which he will if he finds out about this dangerous driving charge. That’s why you’ve got to cover for me!’

Laura shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

‘But 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 obediently into the sunroom, closed the door and slumped against it.

‘Laura? This is Bea. I’m in a phone box at the court house. Listen, something awkward has happened. There’s a plane strike on and Sam can’t get down to Hobart to join you.’

‘That’s not the only awkward thing that’s happened,’ hissed Laura. ‘Sam’s Uncle James has just turned up here at the house.’

‘Oh, no!’ shrieked Bea. ‘Does he know you’re not me?’

‘Shh! Keep your voice down. No, he doesn’t know yet, but I’ll have to tell him.’

‘You can’t, Laura! He’ll never forgive me. He’ll refuse to come to the wedding and Sam will be furious with me. Please don’t tell him.’

‘What else can I do?’

‘Well, you could bluff it out a bit longer. Maybe we could switch places on the wedding day and he wouldn’t notice.’

Laura gave a ferocious snarl of laughter.

‘Be serious! You’re four inches taller, twenty pounds lighter and six years younger than I am, and you have an empty space between your ears whereas I have a brain. Or I used to think I had!’

‘I don’t know why you’re telling me to keep my voice down,’ said Bea plaintively. ‘Laura, just keep it going a bit longer. Please, please? Only until the air strike is over. Then I swear I’ll come down and confess it all to him myself. After all, I’m the one to blame, aren’t I? And if you tell him now he’ll shout at you, instead of me. You know how you hate people shouting.’

Laura opened her mouth to argue, then gritted her teeth. Why not do exactly what Bea suggested? Let her get herself out of her hare-brained schemes for once, instead of expecting Laura to rush around setting things right for her! It would serve her right.

But that’s not fair to James, protested a small voice inside her. Defiantly, Laura pushed down the niggling doubt. Let James take care of himself! He looked tough enough to cope if the truth came out. Besides, after the arrogant, unjust prejudice he had shown towards Bea, he deserved whatever he got! And if he had been mentally undressing Laura, he deserved to be taken down a peg or two.

Her next words surprised her just as much as they did her sister. ‘All right. But you’re going to owe me for this, Bea.’

She had little time to regret her rash decision, for as soon as she emerged with the telephone James instructed the real estate agent to lock up the house and hustled Laura into his gleaming silver Mercedes, which was parked outside. As the car purred north he cast her a keen sideways glance.

‘How did you like the house?’ he asked.

‘It’s lovely!’

‘You think you’ll be happy to live there, then?’

She flushed crimson at the unwelcome reminder that she wouldn’t be the one living there in any case. This was going to be a dangerous conversation. She would have to remember that she was supposed to be Bea, with all of Bea’s very different attitudes, although perhaps without quite so much of her sister’s flamboyance.

‘Yes, I’m sure I will,’ she said in a subdued voice.

‘You’re not going to miss the fast-track life in Sydney too much?’

Laura hung her head and paused before answering. Privately she had worried about the same thing herself. Bea was such a pleasure-loving creature, always going out to parties and discos. It had come as a complete shock when she had fallen for the silent, rugged Sam Fraser, who was more at home on the back of a horse than on a dance-floor. But Laura had no doubts about the depths of her sister’s attachment.

‘I’ll have Sam to help me.’

James’s mouth tightened.

‘Where did you meet Sam?’

‘On a country property near Tamworth. He was working as a stockman there and I…I was modelling some country clothes for a photographic shoot.’

Laura held her breath, wondering whether the truth was going to come out this very moment. Surely a single glance would be enough to convince James that she wasn’t tall enough or thin enough or young enough or gorgeous enough to be a fashion model? But James seemed to have no trouble at all in accepting her in that role. Perhaps it was because she had taken the precaution of wearing Bea’s appalling striped cardigan over her own tan knitted trouser suit. She had also left her long dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders and made up her face with far more lipstick and eyeshadow than she normally used. The whole effect made her feel like a different woman—swashbuckling, assertive and decidedly reckless. Was this how Bea felt all the time?

‘How long ago did you meet?’

‘Six months.’

‘Six months? That’s not long to decide that you want to be married.’

Laura’s eyes flashed.

‘It was long enough for me.’ She thought of Sam and tried to immerse herself in the feeling she knew Bea had for him, but it was no use. All Sam could ever be to her was a kind of pleasant younger brother. Perhaps the knowledge showed in her face, for she heard her voice waver unconvincingly. ‘I’m in love with him.’

‘Are you indeed?’ James’s eyebrows rose sceptically. ‘Well, perhaps. But love on its own seems a rather inadequate basis for a marriage.’

There was a definite sneer in his tone now, and Laura’s fighting instincts were roused.

‘I don’t agree with you,’ she snapped. ‘I think it’s the most important basis there is.’

‘And did you get that impression from your own family?’

She could feel her whole body tensing, as if she were a wounded animal readying itself for fight or flight, as the memories of her own unsatisfactory family came crowding back to her. How much had Sam told this hateful man about it? He must have told him something, surely? In vain she struggled to keep her voice steady.

‘No, I didn’t get it from my family. I don’t know how much Sam has told you, but I don’t have any family to speak of. Only a sister. Our parents were migrants and they split up when we were small. My mother died of cancer when I was el…five, and my father never came back. We spent most of our childhood in foster homes.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said curtly.

‘So am I.’

Maybe he was genuinely sorry, but to her defensive ears something in his voice sounded disdainful, as if her background was exactly what he’d expected. Not her fault, perhaps, but nothing to be proud of either. She was shocked by the blaze of rage that filled her. How dared he sit there, making these smug judgements about her…or Bea? Well, it served him right that they were making a fool of him!

Ordinarily she would have felt guilty and embarrassed about taking part in such a brazen deception, but James seemed to bring out the worst in her, revealing a side of her character that she had never dreamed existed. Reckless, defiant and totally deceitful. All the same, the old, familiar Laura was probably lurking somewhere in the background, all ready to give the game away by stammering and contradicting herself. Perhaps it was best to avoid conversation as much as possible?

Not wanting to be interrogated any further, she gave an exaggerated yawn and rubbed her left hand over her eyes.

‘Look, if you don’t mind, I might try and get some sleep; it’s been a long day.’

‘Of course. We still have a three-hour drive ahead of us, so that’s a sensible idea.’

Through the fringe of her half-closed eyelashes, Laura saw James glance at her assessingly from time to time. Yet, in spite of the way a self-conscious flush was mounting to her cheeks, she somehow managed to keep her breathing quiet and regular. Would he discover how she had tricked him? Would he be furious when he did? Somehow the prospect of seeing James Fraser absolutely wild with rage sent a tremor of sensation through her limbs that was closer to excitement than apprehension.

Would he shout and storm around the room, grab her by the shoulders and thrust his face close to hers as he demanded an explanation? She imagined how it would feel to have those tough, masculine hands seizing her urgently and that hawk-like face so close to hers that she could see the network of tiny lines around his eyes and the way his white, even teeth gritted together…

She swallowed hard and tried to remember what Sam had told her about his uncle, but it didn’t amount to much. Sam was a naturally taciturn person, and in any case Laura had not had the faintest idea that the information would ever prove important to her.

Vaguely she had the impression that Sam’s family had settled in the colony of Van Diemen’s Land in the very early days and that they had old money derived from the farming of merino sheep and the ownership of a woollen mill in Hobart. But about James himself she knew tantalisingly little. Only that he had taught Sam to ride and fish and had been an unsparing taskmaster when his nephew had worked on his property for two years as a stockman.

She couldn’t remember anything about his private life, except for a faint inkling that there had been an unhappy marriage somewhere. Or was that Sam’s other uncle on his mother’s side? If James had a friendly, sympathetic wife tucked away, it might make it easier for Bea or Laura to make a full confession. Yet for some reason the thought of James having any kind of wife, sympathetic or otherwise, sent a sharp pain like a toothache lancing through her.

Oh, Laura, you fool, she thought despairingly. You don’t even like the man, and that physical magnetism is obviously something he switches on for any woman who comes near him. Didn’t Bea say he had a reputation for seducing anything that moved? So you’re not really stupid enough to fall for him, are you? Think about Ray instead!

Dutifully she summoned up the image of Ray crouched over a computer screen, patting his thinning fair hair fussily into place and complimenting her on her spreadsheets, but it didn’t help. Ray seemed a million miles away, while this disturbing stranger was vibrantly present and impossible to ignore.

A sudden spatter of rain struck the car and she heard the swish of the windscreen wipers starting up. Deliberately she tried to lose herself in the details of the weather—the tug of the wind, the rattle of the raindrops, the hiss of the tyres on the wet road—and she was so successful that soon her pretence of dozing became real. Her eyelids fluttered, she gave a shallow sigh and slept.

She was woken by the movement of the car turning off the tarmac onto a dirt road and lurching up a hill. An involuntary cry of surprise escaped her as she realised where she was. James glanced across and spoke in a polite but distant tone, as if he were talking to a stranger rather than a new member of the family.

‘We’re nearly there now. Do you want to get out and look at the view?’

He stopped the car and she climbed out and joined him on the crest of the hill. She uttered a low gasp of admiration as she looked at the panorama spread out before them. It had stopped raining and the sea was a deep cobalt blue, which throbbed and heaved around the distant peaks of a group of islands. The sky was filled with the slanting radiance of the late afternoon sun and the breeze from the ocean brought the tang of salt, mingled with the scent of eucalyptus trees and fresh, damp earth.

‘That’s my house,’ said James.

Laura followed the line of his pointing finger and saw a substantial honey-coloured Georgian building tucked into the lee of the hillside so that it was sheltered from the fierce westerly winds. Around it a splash of vivid green colour marked the limits of the garden and beyond that were paddocks full of golden grass where sheep stood in peaceful groups. One or two even had early lambs frisking beside them.

‘It’s beautiful!’ she exclaimed.

‘I’m glad you think so,’ he replied, with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. ‘I imagine you’ll be spending a fair bit of time here if Sam has his way. He loves the land, you know. Even though he has agreed to manage the woollen mill in Hobart for me it’s likely that he’ll be up here every chance he gets, dealing with the sheep himself. Are you sure you won’t get bored?’

There was no mistaking his antagonism now. He doesn’t want me to marry his precious nephew one bit, thought Laura indignantly. Or he doesn’t want Bea to many him, which comes to the same thing. He ought to give her…me…a chance!

‘I’ll manage,’ she said coolly. ‘I can always dress up in some fancy clothes and put on a fashion parade for the sheep if I get bored, can’t I?’

He looked at her sharply, as if he were not sure whether she was joking or not. Then, with a grunt of exasperation, he led the way back to the car. They finished the rest of the journey in silence, but in spite of his unmistakable hostility James couldn’t quite overcome his instincts as a host. He carried Laura’s bag in from the car, held the door open for her as she entered the house and showed her into a bedroom which was filled with all the comforts a guest could possibly want. Fresh flowers, tissues, a carafe of water and a tin of biscuits, folded towels, a supply of brightly coloured paperbacks. Yet his voice was still curt when he spoke to her.

‘I hope you won’t mind fending for yourself for a couple of hours. I’m afraid I’ve still got to go and inspect the prize bull that I intended to look at this morning, but I shouldn’t be gone for very long. Just make yourself at home, take a bath, fix a snackwhatever you want to do. I’ll cook a proper meal when I get back.’

Left alone, Laura immediately rushed to the telephone to ring Bea, in the hope of having another consultation about her difficult position, but infuriatingly, although the phone rang and rang, Bea didn’t answer. Trying Sam’s number didn’t help either. All she got there was the answering machine and she left a very terse message on it, instructing Bea to phone her immediately.

After that, she sat down with a groan and ran her hands through her hair. How long was she going to be stranded here? Sometimes in the past airline strikes to Tasmania had gone on for weeks, although in that case the Air Force usually ran an emergency service to get sick people or desperate cases on and off the island. But however desperate Laura might feel, she didn’t think the Air Force would consider her a case for emergency evacuation! Well, that just left the overnight boat ferry. If all else failed, perhaps she could hire a car, drive to Devonport and sail back to the mainland.

That still left her with the problem of what was going to happen at the wedding. Even if Bea kept her promise and explained the whole masquerade to James, it still left them with the awkward situation of staging a wedding where the bridegroom’s uncle might well murder the bride and the chief bridesmaid. Which Laura couldn’t help feeling would cast a damper over the proceedings.

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and shuddered. Why had she ever let Bea talk her into this? Still, there was nothing to be gained by sitting around brooding about it. She might as well accept James’s rather grudging invitation and take a look at the place.

It was certainly the kind of house to appeal to her, she decided after a leisurely tour, even if Bea would probably complain that it looked like a museum. All the rooms were graciously proportioned, with carved wooden mantelpieces, lovingly polished antique furniture and dazzling views over the ocean or the hills to the west. Even so, some discreet remodelling had taken place to supply each of the five bedrooms with its own en suite bathroom and to provide a kitchen and laundry that had a colonial look but that still concealed the most up-to-date appliances.

Realising she was hungry, Laura opened the refrigerator and found a tempting array of goodies. Smoked salmon, paté, cold meat, a variety of cheeses, vegetables, eggs, a chicken, a bowl of unshelled prawns. She was just about to take out the ingredients for a ham sandwich when a sudden thought struck her. Why not start cooking dinner herself?

With James’s disturbing presence temporarily removed, her antagonism was beginning to ebb away and she felt more like her usual self. Calm, sensible, anxious to smooth things over. Even that long, sultry, assessing look he had given her when they first met seemed more and more a product of her own fevered imagination. Probably the truth was that he was simply a conscientious uncle, worried that Sam and Bea were embarking on marriage too soon. And if that was the case, it was up to her to try and placate him.

She must do all that she could to show him that she and Bea were both mature, reliable people. And what better way than by pampering him a bit? He would be tired when he came in from inspecting the bull and it was hardly likely that he would really want to make a meal. Of course, he might feel that she was intruding, but on the other hand he had invited her to help herself to a snack. And perhaps it would even soften him up for the moment when they made their final confession. Humming to herself, she lifted out the dish of prawns…

* * *

‘That was an excellent meal,’ admitted James as he drained the last of his coffee with a sigh of satisfaction.

Laura looked at the table with a touch of complacency. Avocado filled with prawns in a seafood dressing had been followed by a stuffed roast chicken with Greek baked potatoes, zucchini and tomatoes and an apple crumble with cinnamon topping and whipped cream. James had opened a bottle of Houghton’s white burgundy and they had brewed fresh coffee to complete the meal. The conversation had gone well too, and she had seen the surprised flash of respect in his eyes when she had made a casual remark about government agricultural policy.

Although they were still fencing with each other, she thought she detected a softening in his initial antagonism towards her. And, rather reluctantly, she had to admit that she found him very interesting company.

‘Would you like some more coffee?’ she asked.

‘All right,’ he agreed, rising to his feet. ‘Why don’t you bring it into the living room? I’m going to set a match to the fire in there.’

As he spoke a sudden, sharp gust of wind set the windowpanes rattling, and a spatter of drops struck against the glass. Striding across the room, James closed the cedar shutters firmly, shutting out the gathering darkness and rain. It was a simple action and yet it made Laura feel odd—as if they were holing up together in some snug, little lair and turning their backs on the outside world. There was something alarming about the idea of drawing close to a hissing, crackling orange fire with James Fraser while a storm raged and buffeted outside.

Suddenly she became aware that he was watching her through narrowed eyes and she dropped her gaze self-consciously. Her heart raced and she no longer felt so certain that she had imagined that sensual glance he had given her earlier in the day. What if he really was wondering what it would be like to take off her clothes and lay her down on the sheepskin rug in the firelight? Bea had once told her that she had a very expressive face, but she hoped devoutly that that wasn’t true! If her face was expressing half the things she was thinking tonight, she was in big trouble…

‘I’ll get the coffee,’ she said, retreating into the kitchen.

When she came into the living room ten minutes later, James was crouched on the hearth, feeding the flames with more substantial lengths of wood. The glow from the firelight made his eyes glitter and highlighted the rugged contours of his face, making him look like some primitive caveman. Suddenly he looked up at her with an expression that made Laura’s breath catch in her throat.

No, she hadn’t imagined that silent, sensual appraisal earlier in the day, for he was doing it again now. And this time she was powerless even to turn her head away. All she could do was stare at him with her lips half parted and her shoulders tensed as if to ward off danger.

Before he went out to inspect the bull, he had changed into denim jeans and an open-necked flannel shirt which was now rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms spiked with dark hair that glowed bronze in the firelight. As he rose to his feet, still trapping her in that mesmerising gaze, she felt again that she was a waif, a stray, an outcast seeking shelter in a hostile world. And it didn’t seem at all likely that this threatening stranger was going to take pity on her.

The cup clattered in its saucer as she handed it to him.

He added sugar, stirred the coffee and drank it down without ever taking his eyes off her. Then he reached behind him and set the empty china on the mantelpiece.

‘Tell me something,’ he said harshly. ‘What’s the real truth behind all this?’

CHAPTER TWO

LAURA’S stomach gave a sickening lurch and she stared at him in alarm, momentarily diverted from her unwelcome attraction to him. Obviously he had guessed that she wasn’t Bea and now he wanted an explanation. Well, the only thing she could do was to give him one, apologise abjectly and leave as soon as possible. She only hoped that he wouldn’t take his anger out on her sister once he learnt what they had done.

‘Look, I can see you’ve realised that something is seriously wrong,’ she began awkwardly. ‘You must feel that I’m here under false pretences, but I—’

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ he cut in. ‘After all, Sam is legally an adult and he has a perfect right to marry you. I also know from his telephone conversations that he’s head over heels in love with you. What worries me is what you’re hoping to get out of it, Bea.’

Bea. So he hadn’t guessed at all. Laura’s wildly beating heart slowly subsided to its normal rhythm, although she still felt shaken. She stared at James in dismay, feeling as if her brain had turned to cotton wool. What on earth was she supposed to say now?

‘There’s no need to look at me as if I’m an executioner!’ he continued impatiently. ‘It’s just that if you’re marrying Sam, I want to know more about you. And for heaven’s sake tell me the truth!’

‘What do you mean?’ blurted out Laura.

‘I mean, what do you want out of life? What motivates you? What’s your greatest need?’

Something in the urgency of his voice mesmerised her, so that she was unable to lie. A wry smile twisted her lips as she gazed into the dark tunnel of her past. Memories came crowding back to her—of the first frozen grief after her mother’s death, her dogged determination to look after Bea and not be parted from her, her decision that she would work hard and be responsible and make a future for them both. She gave a faint, mirthless whisper of laughter.

‘Security,’ she said.

She saw a brief flash of hostility in James’s eyes, but he nodded his head.

‘Well, that’s honest at all events,’ he retorted. ‘And marrying is certainly one way of getting it. But these days most girls train for a career as well, just in case Mr Wonderful doesn’t show up. Were you so certain of your charms that you didn’t feel the need to train for anything?’

Laura flinched.

‘I did!’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘I—’

She broke off, remembering too late that she was supposed to be Bea.

‘You did what, exactly?’

‘I studied horticulture for a while.’

‘So you have a diploma?’ he demanded.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I dropped out,’ she said, with a defiant lift of her chin.

‘I see. And what did you do then? Start looking round immediately for a rich husband?’

‘No!’ flared Laura, distractedly trying to remember exactly what Bea had done. There had been a period on the dole, a brief job as a croupier in a casino and a year on a working holiday, where the work had been mostly making beds in motels or waitressing in crummy cafés. Hastily she decided not to mention any of that. ‘I got a job in a dress shop and then they asked me to do some catwalk modelling and suddenly my career took off. It was just luck, really.’

‘You rely a lot on luck, don’t you?’ said James in a hard voice. ‘As far as I can see, it was also just luck that Sam fell in love with you. Are you going to depend on luck to make your marriage work too?’

His sarcasm was so burning that Laura felt shrivelled by it. For several moments she looked at him in dismay, unable to find any sensible answer. At last she dropped her gaze, unable to offer any adequate defence.

‘Why do you hate me so much?’ she whispered.

‘I don’t hate you,’ he snapped. ‘I simply think that you’re young and naïve and capable of doing a great deal of harm. What’s more, I’d like to make you think before it’s too late. You’re…how old? Twenty-three? And Sam’s twenty-four! Well, to me you seem very young, and from all I’ve heard about you you’re also very immature. I simply don’t think it’s a good idea for you to rush into marriage. In my opinion you should wait until you’re older and until you’ve known each other longer. You don’t have the experience to see the pitfalls of what you’re doing, but I do.’

‘What pitfalls?’ demanded Laura.

To her dismay he stepped forward and seized her by the shoulders. The room seemed to spin around her and for one wild moment she stood motionless, trapped by the hypnotic golden intensity of his gaze. A shameful rush of desire surged through her at his touch, so hot and raw and primitive that she was shocked by it. Try as she might, she could not shut out her unbearable awareness of his masculinity, of the heat and power and size of him as he loomed above her. His fingers bit into her flesh, making her feel soft and boneless. She took a shallow, fluttering breath and fought down an insane urge to wind her arms around his neck and lift her parted lips to his.

Darting him a panicky glance from under half closed eyelids, she saw that he was fully aware of her response to him. Not only that, but he clearly revelled in it. The amusement that curled his lips sent a hot flush of embarrassment flooding into her cheeks. Why was he doing this? Did he feel an equal measure of desire for her? Or was he simply trying to make a fool of her?

‘Let’s start with the pitfalls of attraction to another man,’ he murmured tauntingly. ‘You’re so young and impressionable. What will you do, Bea, when you find yourself uncontrollably attracted to somebody else, as I’m sure you will?’

The way he had drawled the words ‘somebody else’ left her in no doubt of his meaning. That hoarse, smoky baritone was so blatantly suggestive that she could have slapped his face. How could he humiliate her like this, especially when he thought she was about to marry Sam? And why did he have to degrade her so pitilessly by gloating over her reaction to him? Didn’t he have any compassion at all? And how could she still feel this treacherous yearning for him, when she resented him so much?

Suddenly Laura lost her temper, and her anger with herself was transformed into fury with James. Breaking free of his hold, she stepped back a pace and glared at him.

‘You pompous brute!’ she shouted and then paused, struggling incoherently for speech. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that she despised him for his prejudice towards Bea and for the insulting way he was playing sexual games with her. But she could, and would, tell him what she thought of his own attitudes and values! Who was he to lay down the law to her when his own love life was nothing to be proud of?

She took a deep breath and her words came out in an angry torrent. ‘I may be young, but I’m not stupid. And where has your precious wisdom and experience got you? Just tell me that! You must be at least thirty-five years old, but you’re not happily married, are you? So what use was all your caution to you? If you ask me, the best thing you can do in relationships is to trust your instincts, close your eyes and jump! All right, you might get hurt, you might even hurt somebody else. But at least you’ll be alive and feeling and breathing and knowing what it means to be in love, not just playing it safe. In my opinion, you’re the one who’s naïve if you think you can get a guarantee of happiness just by refusing to take any risks!’

Her own vehemence astonished her, and she tried to tell herself that she was only expressing Bea’s philosophy of life, but that didn’t seem to explain why her outburst had left her so agitated. She saw that James was staring at her with mild amazement and she folded her arms around her body and took deep, calming breaths. Too late, she realised how heated she had been and a pang of guilt went through her.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that,’ she muttered. ‘I’m a guest in your house and it was very rude. Please forgive me.’

He shrugged, as if her outburst hadn’t troubled him in the least. Her stinging attack on his own way of life seemed to have left him completely unmoved. The faint, flickering smile on his lips didn’t waver for an instant as he returned her gaze. Then he spoke in a measured tone, as if he were thinking aloud.

‘There’s just one thing that puzzles me about you, Beatrice. You virtually admitted to me earlier that you weren’t in love with Sam and that you were only concerned with security, and yet you’ve just treated me to a passionate outburst in favour of falling in love and taking risks in relationships. Isn’t that rather a contradiction? Can you explain it to me?’

Laura’s mouth opened and closed as if she were a stranded goldfish. Yes, it was a contradiction, although she probably could explain it if she simply told the truth. All she had to say was a few, simple sentences. Bea is in love with Sam, but I’m not. I care about security, but she doesn’t. She believes in taking risks, but I don’t. When I was shouting so passionately about love, I was simply being her mouthpiece, saying what she’d say if she were here. Or was I? Is it possible that I really believe all that stuff about risk-taking myself deep down? She stared at James with a stricken expression, appalled by this moment of self-discovery.

‘The truth is that there are times when I don’t even know what I want myself,’ she muttered, dropping her eyes. ‘Times when I don’t even know who I really am.’

She found that he was towering over her again and that his hand was lifting her chin, forcing her to look at him, forcing her to see the strange, fierce expression in his tawny eyes. His thumb touched her cheekbone, caressing the skin in a slow whorl as he looked down at her.

‘Then I think you ought to find out before you get married next week,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Don’t you?’

Every nerve in her body seemed to jangle as she felt anew that hot, unwelcome thrill of physical attraction towards him. It would be easy, fatally easy to let herself sway forward against him and find herself caught in his crushing embrace. The silence between them lengthened and she felt almost certain that James was experiencing the same aching, primitive sense of need that was disturbing her so profoundly. But she felt equally certain that this was nothing but a game to him. Angrily she jerked herself free of his touch.

‘Look, what’s it got to do with you?’ she demanded.

He caught her by the wrist, swinging her back to face him.

‘Plenty,’ he snapped. ‘I like Sam a lot and I don’t want him being made unhappy by some twitty little girl in ridiculous clothes who doesn’t even know what she wants.’

‘Ridiculous clothes?’ echoed Laura incredulously, glancing down at Bea’s long striped cardigan. ‘Oh, so that’s what this is about, is it? It’s just blind, simple prejudice. You disapprove of me because I’m a model, don’t you?’

‘That’s ridiculous! If I disapprove of you, it’s because I suspect you’re unstable and likely to skip out of this marriage at the first sign of difficulty.’

All Laura’s old insecurities came rushing back and she felt the blood surge into her cheeks in a burning rush.

‘You’re only saying that because of the background I come from!’ she shouted accusingly. ‘Just because I grew up in foster homes, you don’t think I can sustain a stable marriage.’

‘That’s utter rubbish! I wasn’t even thinking about that!’

‘You were!’ cried Laura, her voice rising and growing more rapid. ‘I know you were! You think I’m not good enough for Sam, don’t you? Your family is rich and respectable and important and nobody ever gets divorced in it, so you don’t think I’m good enough to be allowed in the door, do you?’

James glared at her.

‘I didn’t say that!’ he retorted in exasperation. ‘Anyway, who said my family never got divorced? Sam’s father Adrian is divorced, I’m divorced, and the only reason my sister Wendy isn’t divorced is because she never bothered to marry any of her lovers.’

Laura felt an odd prickling sensation that was a mixture of pain and relief at the news that James was divorced. For some ridiculous reason it hurt her to know that he had ever been married, and yet she couldn’t help feeling absurdly glad that the marriage was definitely over. And then she saw the grim twist to his lips, the harsh etching of the lines around his mouth—was it over for him?

‘Are you divorced? Why?’

‘That’s none of your damned business! It’s irrelevant anyway, and I don’t know why I even mentioned it. It happened years ago and I’ll never be fool enough to get married again. I was simply making the point that—’

‘Oh, I see!’ she interrupted. ‘You’re disillusioned with marriage, so you have to try and turn everyone else off it too. What right do you have to tell me that I’m frivolous and selfish and that I’ll skip out at the first sign of difficulty? You know nothing about me!’

His face darkened.

‘I know you’re planning to marry Sam for financial security and I know there’s a hell of a lot more to marriage than that. If you think a big house in Sandy Bay is going to make you happy, little girl, you’ve got a lot of growing up to do!’

‘Don’t you “little girl” me!’ shouted Laura. ‘If you think that because you’ve bought us a house you can be the power broker in our marriage, well, you can forget it! We don’t need your house and we won’t take it. I’ll tell Sam to refuse it. We’ll buy our own damned house.’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous! It’s nothing to do with my trying to be a “power broker” in your marriage, as you put it. You’ve got a perfect right to own that house, you and Sam.’

Laura was momentarily sidetracked. As an accountant she sensed an interesting complication. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

‘What do you mean? You’re the one paying for it, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ growled James. ‘But only because of the way my father’s will was left. You see, Sam’s father has never had any sense handling money, it runs through his fingers like water, so my father left his share of the estate to me, as well as my own. He knew if my brother Adrian got hold of it he’d squander it before his kids ever saw it.’

‘Whereas you—’ prompted Laura.

James heaved an exasperated sigh and ran his fingers through his black hair so that it stood up in wild disorder.

‘Whereas I’m the sensible, responsible one,’ he said bitterly. ‘The one that pays off mortgages and tends the stock and budgets for the taxes and gets the rest of the family out of trouble when they blunder into it. Somebody has to be reliable or they would all come adrift. My father knew I’d take care of Sam and the others, so he left everything in my hands.’

That sounds just like me, thought Laura with an unwilling twinge of sympathy. She remembered how earnestly she had argued with the welfare worker when she was twenty-one to convince her that she could provide a home for Bea on her salary as a first-year accountant. And how much she had sacrificed to keep her promise to her dying mother that she would take care of her sister. All those lost opportunities for dates and parties and good times flashed before her eyes, but she felt not so much virtuous as utterly fed up. If James had gone through the same thing with his family, she pitied him! Even if he was a callous, manipulative womaniser, nobody deserved to be Mr Fixit all the time.

‘Don’t you ever get sick of being the sensible one?’ she burst out.

‘Yes,’ said James grimly.

‘What would you have liked to do if you hadn’t had to be the person that everybody else relied on?’ she asked curiously.

His eyes narrowed and he seemed to be looking at something far away.

‘I would have gone up to the Great Barrier Reef for at least a year and been a beachcomber,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘It would have been great to go surfing or riding horses along those long white beaches and lie around under the palm trees for a year or so. Mind you, I probably would have got sick of it after that. I suspect I’m the hard-working, ambitious type deep down. Still, it would have been fun.’

‘It’s not very different from what I would have done,’ murmured Laura half to herself. ‘I would have loved to go off to Queensland and spend months hiking through the rainforests and collecting wildflowers without ever having to worry about going to work and being responsible.’

James cast her a frowning, baffled look.

‘Then why didn’t you just do it?’ he asked. ‘You studied horticulture, didn’t you, at least for a while? And from what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound as if there was any strongly developed work ethic standing in your way.’

Laura felt as if a chill had invaded the room. Why did she keep forgetting who she was supposed to be? Of course, James was right. If her sister had wanted to travel around and hike through rainforests, she would simply have done it. Whereas good, old, boring, sensible Laura wouldn’t dream of doing anything so rash. Just as she wouldn’t dream of flinging aside caution and plunging headlong into a torrid affair with James.

A sudden blaze of rebellion ignited inside her. If only I thought it was me personally that he wanted, instead of any woman who comes near him! she thought despairingly. Or if only Bea and I hadn’t deceived him like this and he didn’t think I was a scheming gold-digger! I wish, I wish…Then she caught the implacable glint of hostility in his tawny eyes and she heaved a faint, defeated sigh. What was the point of wishing? It was all useless. The best thing she could do was to avoid him as much as possible and pray for a miracle to get her out of this mess.

‘Well, we’re very different people, aren’t we?’ she said coolly. ‘I don’t suppose I can expect you to understand anything I do. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed now.’

As she moved towards the door he put out his hand to stop her. To her surprise, the antagonism in his voice was suddenly softened by something else. A glimmer of respect, perhaps? Or even a wary friendliness. Laura had the impression that he was struggling to be fair.

‘Listen,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not necessarily opposed to you, Beatrice. You’ve obviously got a lot more character and intelligence than I was led to expect. But there are two things in life I hate. One is deceit, the other is disloyalty. At least you seem to be honest and genuine, but I can’t help worrying about whether you’ll be loyal to Sam in the long run. So I’m warning you, think again about whether you want to go through with this marriage.’

Laura woke the next morning with a feeling of intense misgiving, mingled with a ridiculous fluttery sense of excitement. As she showered and dressed she tried to focus her thoughts. There was no doubt that she had landed herself in serious trouble. In one way she was tempted to phone for a hire car and flee northwards to the ferry, but a few moments’ reflection convinced her that she couldn’t leave without an explanation.

James still believed that she was Bea and he would be expecting her to stay, so it would be the height of rudeness to vanish without telling him why. He might be opposed to Bea’s forthcoming marriage, but he didn’t deserve anything as dreadful as that! Besides, there were practical difficulties—he might call the police and put out a missing person’s report on her if she simply left without a word. Yet she shrank from trying to explain their idiotic masquerade to him. Let Bea do that when she arrived!

The trouble was that with every extra minute she spent in his company, she felt as if she were sinking deeper and deeper into quicksand. Even though they had quarrelled last night, she still couldn’t deny the treacherous attraction she felt towards him. But there could be no future for them. Not when she suspected him of trying to seduce her simply for entertainment. And not when he found out about all the lies she had told him…

Well, he would have to know before the wedding, and her stomach contracted in morbid dread at the thought of the scene that would ensue when he did find out. Had she really been crazy enough to think that it would be quite exciting to have James shouting and storming at her? The truth was likely to be utterly different! She could just picture the cold look of contempt that would come over his face when he discovered how she and Bea had tricked him.

Would he refuse to take part in the wedding? At the moment he was supposed to be giving Bea away, since she didn’t have a father to do it, but who could blame him if he refused to take part? He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would grin and shrug his shoulders if somebody made a fool of him. Laura suspected that a formidable temper smouldered beneath his urbane exterior. He wasn’t in the least bit long-suffering, like Raymond.

Raymond! Oh, heavens, she had forgotten all about Raymond…She’d been supposed to give him an answer to his proposal yesterday, so what on earth would he think of her? She had never failed to keep a promise before! Even as the thought crossed her mind she knew what her answer was going to be and knew that it didn’t matter that she had broken her promise. After the whirlwind emotions which James had roused in her during the last twenty-four hours, there was no possible way that she could marry Raymond. All the same, he deserved an answer.

Feeling as if she were ringing up the dentist to make an appointment for a wisdom tooth extraction, Laura picked up the phone.

‘Ray?’

‘Laura! I was halfway through shaving! What on earth happened? I thought you were supposed to get in touch with me yesterday. You didn’t show up to work and your secretary said you’d taken a day’s leave without any real explanation.’

His tone was faintly querulous and Laura felt a niggling sense of exasperation, followed by an urge to get the ordeal over.

‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ she said shortly. ‘There was a sudden hitch to do with Bea’s wedding and I had to fly down to Tasmania unexpectedly. Now that I’m here I’ll be staying for a few days, but never mind that. What I really rang to tell you is that…I can’t marry you.’

‘That’s a bit abrupt,’ protested Ray mildly. She thought she heard a faint scraping sound in the background. Was he continuing to shave while he talked? ‘Can’t you give me some reasons?’

‘There’s only one reason, Ray. I don’t love you.’

He laughed indulgently, the same sort of laugh she had heard once when she had told him the petty cash tin was short of fifteen cents, although even then he had kept going through the books relentlessly until he found the error.

‘Love!’ he snorted. ‘We’re both mature adults, Laura. Do we need to make such a fuss about terminology?’

Laura felt a pang of irrational antagonism so fierce that if Ray had been in the room, she would have picked up the phone and thrown it at him. Terminology, indeed! And if you got rid of love, what did you do? Spend the rest of your life having dry little conversations about a few missing cents in the petty cash tin? No, thanks! There had to be more to the universe than that!

‘Well, I do,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Ray, but I guess that’s the end of it.’

‘Laura, are you sick or something? You don’t sound at all like yourself. Look, don’t rush into a decision. Wait until Beatrice’s wedding is over and talk to me about it then. By the way, did I tell you I got the Simmons and Waterman contract? Quite a coup, really.’

‘Good for you,’ retorted Laura coldly, and hung up.

As she moved away from the phone it occurred to her that the whole conversation had resembled a business discussion about some minor appointment which could be cancelled without too much difficulty. The realisation made her feel surer than ever that she was doing the right thing. After all, a decision to get married was a pretty important event, and ought to be accompanied by some very powerful feelings. Even if a proposal was refused, she felt that it ought to be more than just a passing disturbance in somebody’s day. Raymond hadn’t sounded upset, merely aggrieved. And, if she was going to be honest, her own reaction was mainly one of relief, which was crazy. If she had just refused a proposal of marriage from James Fraser, she was certain that she would have felt shaken to the core by the experience.

‘But if James proposed to me,’ she said aloud, ‘maybe I wouldn’t refuse anyway.’

She stopped suddenly in her tracks with a jolt of dismay as she realised what she had just said. A low groan escaped her.

Oh, Lord, she really had it badly, didn’t she? What did James have to do with anything? It was hardly likely that he was ever going to ask her to marry him. As a matter of fact, his main preoccupation at the moment seemed to be trying to talk her out of getting married, but was that really just because he thought that she…or Bea…was too young? Or could it possibly be that he was genuinely attracted to her himself and not merely playing games with her?

Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought as being too silly for words and began to get dressed. Not that she had many clothes to choose from. Believing that she would only be staying in Tasmania for one day, she hadn’t bothered to bring much with her, and only her habitual caution had made her pack any clothes at all. What she had brought was definitely in her style rather than Bea’s. A long viyella nightdress, plain underwear and sensible shoes, a dark blue knit suit with a little gold brooch to pin on the jacket and a severely cut black coat which she had bought in Florence on her holidays two years ago.

That should baffle James after the violently coloured long cardigan she had worn yesterday! And perhaps seeing her with her hair in a chignon would shake his smug notions about how young and irresponsible she was. An impish sense of mischief began to mingle with her guilt.

As she’d expected, James gave her a startled glance when she walked into the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, stirring something in a frying pan, and the appetising smell of bacon and tomatoes wafted across to meet her.

‘That was good timing,’ he announced, tilting the frying pan and dividing the food evenly onto two plates. Switching off the stove, he handed one of the plates to Laura and gestured at a table by the window which was already set with a checked red and white cloth, orange juice, butter, jam and all the other paraphernalia of breakfast. Laura gave him a worldly wise smile as he poured some juice for her and passed her the toast.

‘You look very nice,’ he said with approval, glancing at her dark suit. ‘That’s an extremely suitable outfit for seeing the vicar about the wedding.’

Laura choked on a mouthful of bacon.

‘What did you say?’ she gulped.

James leaned back in his chair and his eyes narrowed. There was an almost wolfish quality to his expression which made Laura’s blood run cold.

‘I said that’s a very suitable outfit for visiting the vicar about the wedding,’ he repeated, with a mildness that was almost sinister. ‘Didn’t I tell you that he phoned me yesterday and suggested that we should have a proper rehearsal for the ceremony? Unless you’ve changed your mind about whether there’s going to be a wedding?’

She stared at him with the stricken horror of a baby rabbit which had just noticed the swooping shadow of a hawk. Playing this masquerade to one person was bad enough, but if she was now going to be forced to convince the vicar that she was Bea, she would simply crack up.

Several courses of action occurred to her, all of them equally ridiculous. She could hide under the table and never come out, she could hitch-hike to the end of the island and then swim, or she could agree with James that the wedding ought to be cancelled. The last one was the solution that had most appeal, except that the choice was utterly farcical. She wasn’t the one getting married anyway.

‘You’re not really going to go ahead with this, are you?’ demanded James.

His voice was harsh, and to her astonishment his right hand suddenly shot out, seizing her wrist with such force that she cried out. His grip softened marginally, but he continued to gaze at her with an intensity that almost scorched her. She found that her heart was hammering with a wild exultation. He is attracted to me! she thought dizzily. It’s the same for him as it is for me. Then the absurdity of her situation struck her again and she shuddered.

‘There’s nothing I can do to stop this wedding now,’ she said jerkily, dropping her eyes and avoiding his gaze.

‘That’s rubbish! You’re just letting social pressure and embarrassment force you into it, Bea, because you can’t face the humiliation of crying off at the last moment. But you know you’re doing something very wrong, don’t you?’

‘You know you’re doing something very wrong, don’t you?’ The words seared her as if he had scorched them into her conscience with a branding iron, but of course James wasn’t aware of their double meaning.

‘Please let me go!’ she blurted out, wrenching away from him.

‘All right,’ he snapped, releasing her. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you go ahead and marry Sam without really loving him and being sure that you’re ready for lifelong commitment, you’re going to regret it, and I’m sure the vicar will tell you the same thing. Why don’t you discuss it with him when you see him today?’

So he was back on that, was he? Laura stared at him in alarm.

‘What do you mean—when I see him today?’

‘I told you—he rang up and suggested a rehearsal. Some of the music is rather tricky and the organist wants to run through it. I’ve explained that Sam is still stranded on the mainland, but the vicar is very anxious for us to go ahead with it anyway. He likes to have all the details right and we’ve got you here as the bride, which is the most important thing.’

Laura felt as if she were trapped in the middle of a nightmare. Go through the wedding rehearsal and pretend she was the bride? This was getting worse and worse! Wishing the floor would open and swallow her up, she tried a desperate, last-minute tactic.

‘Oh, I don’t think we should have the rehearsal without the bridegroom! Can’t we just cancel it?’

‘No, we can’t,’ growled James, and the pupils of his eyes seemed to narrow into pitiless slits. ‘I’ll stand in for Sam as your husband. Maybe it will jolt you into thinking about the significance of what you’re doing.’

The church was a quaint little sandstone building standing on a gentle green hill overlooking the sea. On the noticeboard at the gate a rather faded sign bore the text ‘FEED MY LAMBS, FEED MY SHEEP’, which seemed particularly appropriate, since a couple of merino ewes had escaped from a nearby paddock and were nibbling the grass that grew in lush clumps around the weathered gravestones.

If she had not been so agitated, Laura would have been enchanted by the pink frothy blossom which covered the cherry trees in the rectory garden next door and by the drifts of daffodils that tossed their heads beneath the bare oak trees. As it was, she felt as if she were being led off to execution as James put his arm around her shoulders and escorted her relentlessly up the path to the rectory door. A chubby, balding man with pink cheeks and thick horn-rimmed spectacles answered their second ring and beamed at them.

‘James, good to see you! And this is the bride, is it? Nice to meet you at last, Beatrice. My name’s Bill Archer. I’ve known young Sam since he was pinching the apples from the trees in my orchard during his school holidays, and it couldn’t give me greater pleasure than to be officiating at his wedding. I gather he couldn’t be with us today, though?’

‘No,’ said Laura in a wan voice. ‘There’s an airline strike.’

‘It’s all right, though,’ added James in velvety tones. ‘I’ve offered to stand in instead. I think Beatrice ought to have this final chance for quiet contemplation about the meaning of holy matrimony.’

The vicar looked taken aback.

‘Er, well, yes,’ he agreed, tugging at his earlobe. ‘And to get the hymns right and that sort of thing too. Christine, my dear! We’re just going over to the church to run through young Sam’s wedding service. Why don’t you come with us?’

Laura had thought the agony couldn’t get any worse, but once she found herself inside the church she realised she’d been wrong. The building itself was beautiful, with its stained glass windows sparkling in the sun, its gleaming wooden pews smelling of lemon furniture polish and the fresh flowers that decked the altar. If she’d been going to be married, she couldn’t think of a nicer place to do it than this. But within the next five minutes she began to feel as if she were in a torture chamber as the other participants in the rehearsal gradually assembled. While the vicar made the necessary introductions she looked around her as despairingly as if she were a hostage in the clutches of a gang of terrorists.

‘All right, Bea, you’ve met my wife Christine and myself. Now, the lady in the green is Audrey Phillips, our organist, and behind her is John Timmins, who is going to be the best man. That leaves Peter Clark, my sexton, who won’t be taking part in the actual ceremony but has very kindly offered to give you away just for today, since James, who is going to have that privilege at the real wedding, is otherwise occupied at the moment. Now, have we forgotten anyone? Oh, dear, that’s awkward! We don’t have a bridesmaid, do we? What a pity your sister Laura couldn’t be here!’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ agreed Laura faintly.

‘Oh, I’ll take her place,’ offered the vicar’s wife. ‘Now, let’s get started. Go and stand on the chancel steps, Bill, and tell them what you want them to do.’

‘It’s not too difficult. Once Audrey strikes up the “Wedding March”, you take Peter’s arm, Bea. Make a slow procession down the centre aisle, so everyone can have a good look at you, and when you arrive here the bridegroom will step forward to meet you. You both face me and the father—that’s Peter—will move a little to the left and the best man to the right. You hand your flowers to the bridesmaid and we go ahead with the ceremony. Has everyone got that?’

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