Bride at Briar's Ridge

Bride at Briar's Ridge
Margaret Way

Outback heir seeks convenient wife. . .Sought-after bachelor Linc Mastermann is used to women falling at his feet. But past experience has taught this handsome sheep baron that women aren’t to be trusted. Daniela Adami has come to beautiful Wangaree Valley to escape from her life in London. She’s hurt, and her heart is guarded, but when Linc strides into her world he turns it upside down.Linc only wants to marry to produce heirs to his fortune. He isn’t interested in falling in love. Or so he thinks… Barons of the Outback Rich, rugged…and ready to marry!

‘I hardly know you.’

Linc looked across at her without a smile. ‘I understand your concerns. I share them, in a way. But some things—like basic instincts—have a way of cutting through our best intentions. We could act conventionally and take months getting to know one another, but both of us are at a time in our lives when our own instincts override caution. We’re attracted to one another?’

‘Yes.’ Daniela turned her head away, but openly acknowledged it. That attraction had sprung fully formed.

‘So, will you have dinner with me and forget your anxieties? Please say you’ll come.’ He glanced at her, seeing how her long dark eyelashes were quivering against the golden bloom of her cheek. ‘You know you want to.’

She nodded, but her expression was troubled. ‘What I’m wondering is what you really want,’ she said.

He reached out with his left hand and grasped the tips of her fingers.

It was like drowning in a sea of sensuality.

Margaret Way, a definite Leo, was born and raised in the subtropical River City of Brisbane, capital of the Sunshine State of Queensland. A Conservatorium-trained pianist, teacher, accompanist and vocal coach, she found her musical career came to an unexpected end when she took up writing, initially as a fun thing to do. She currently lives in a harbourside apartment at beautiful Raby Bay, a thirty-minute drive from the state capital, where she loves dining al fresco on her plant-filled balcony, overlooking a translucent green marina filled with all manner of pleasure craft from motor cruisers costing millions of dollars and big, graceful yachts with carved masts standing tall against the cloudless blue sky, to little bay runabouts. No one and nothing is in a mad rush, so she finds the laid-back village atmosphere very conducive to her writing. With well over 100 books to her credit, she still believes her best is yet to come.

Recent books by the same author:

WEDDING AT WANGAREE VALLEY*

CATTLE RANCHER, SECRET SON

PROMOTED: NANNY TO WIFE†

CATTLE RANCHER, CONVENIENT WIFE†

*Barons of the Outback duet †Outback Marriages duet

BARONS OF THE OUTBACK

Rich, rugged…and ready to marry!

In the searing heat of Wangaree Valley,

where the rainbow colours of the birds and flowers

mix with the invigorating smell of the native eucalypts,

sheep barons Guy Radcliffe and Linc Mastermann

work hard to be at the very top of their game.

They are men of the earth, strong and powerful!

Their wealth and success mean Guy and Linc

are two of Australia’s most eligible bachelors—

and now they’re looking for brides!

Last month you read all about gorgeous Guy in: WEDDING AT WANGAREE VALLEY

This month, read Linc’s story in: BRIDE AT BRIAR’S RIDGE

BRIDE AT BRIAR’S RIDGE

BY

MARGARET WAY

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

CHAPTER ONE

LINC checked out of his Sydney hotel after a late breakfast. An easy two-hour drive later he was cruising through the beautiful Hunter Valley, wedged snugly between the blue-hazed Brokenback Ranges, dominated by the native eucalypts. He had an idea the word eucalypt came from the Greek for ‘covered’. Maybe it had something to do with the way the buds covered themselves, as though seeking shade. There were over six hundred species of eucalypt at the last count—Australia’s gift to the world. It was the fine drops of eucalyptus oil in the atmosphere that gave off that marvellous purplish-blue haze. That was how the beautiful Blue Mountains some forty miles west of Sydney got their name.

To his mind, trees made the landscape. He loved them. He was first and last a man of the land. Sometimes he thought he and the land were one—pretty much the same primal feeling of the first Australians, the aboriginals who had managed the land for 40,000 maybe 60,000 years. The white man, with his need for progress now almost out of control, was doing great harm to nature. The planet was screaming out for urgent change.

It was a brilliantly fine day, all blue and green and gold, and the unfolding landscape was like one of Hans Heysen’s famous rural paintings that found their way on to calendars and postcards and the like. Miles of sun-drenched vineyards met his eyes, expanding to the horizon. Here and there he caught glimpses of glorious big rose bushes, bearing a profusion of flowers. He knew roses were grown in close proximity to the vines because their presence protected the vines from certain blights. Fruit and flower gave off a heady rich perfume and a riot of colour.

The Hunter was Australia’s oldest wine-growing region, probably the most visited, and it produced wonderful wines. In fact the Hunter was a Mecca for those who relished gourmet food washed down with plum-coloured Shiraz, golden Chardonnay, citrusy Semillon or classic Cabernet with its blackberry flavour; a superb wine to complement every type of cuisine. He wasn’t behind the door with the vino, having sunk a bottle or two in his time, but he still had a taste for a good cold beer.

Some parts of the landscape were reminding him of Italy: the imported eucalypts, the golden sun soaking into the fertile soil, the intoxicating aromas of fruit and flowers, the open grassy meadows filled with wild poppies, scarlet and yellow, their papery petals bobbing in the breeze. He was halfway to feeling good when for many years of his life he had been swept by restlessness. He had a dark side to him. Linc had come to accept that. Now he took his time, savouring the laid-back atmosphere of the valley. It held more than a hint of the wild bush he loved. Every country had its own landscape. The Outback was Australia’s, but the real Outback was farther on—the Back O’Beyond.

He slotted in another CD and drove along with it as he continued on to his destination. Wangaree Valley. Wangaree was the legendary stronghold of the mighty sheep barons and their descendants, in particular his old friend, Guy Radcliffe. He and Guy had been through school and university together, and Guy had been a role model for him in those days—a calm, steadying hand when he’d really needed one. He remembered Dr Mallory, the headmaster of their school, describing Guy as ‘the perfect gentleman’. There was no getting away from it. Guy was impressive. Linc, on the other hand, was kind of wild—especially since he and Chuck, his elder brother, had lost their mother to breast cancer a few years into their boarding school stint.

It had torn his heart out. He still wasn’t over the shattering blow. Never would be. He had been very close to his mother, even more so than Chuck. Their father had favoured Chuck. The moment he thought of his mother Linc’s breath caught on a moan. In those last heartbreaking days she had become so wasted—parchment skin stretched tight over delicate bones, hardly a vestige of her beauty left to her. But even at the end she had been so incredibly loving, so selfless and brave, thinking only of them, her two boys, and his heart broke all over again. Suffering seemed to happen to the best people. His mother had been the one who’d held the family together. He was going to miss her until the end of his days.

Right now he had to make an effort to clamp down on his upsetting memories. No one seemed to realise it—he knew he projected the misleading super-confident image of a man right on top of things—but he was a pretty complicated guy, maybe even messed up. Only his mother had truly understood him. His father had been antagonistic even when Linc was a kid. He knew he had always asked too many questions—not trying to be the smart-ass his father had long since labelled him, he had actually wanted to know. He’d always had an enquiring mind. But his father hadn’t seen it that way. To him, being questioned about anything was rank insubordination. Ah, well! He wasn’t the first and he wouldn’t be the last not to get on with his dad. But that was all over.

He was in the valley for the best of reasons. Guy had asked him to be one of the groomsmen at his wedding. Something he had kept from the family. He had wanted to tell Chuck, but Chuck could unwittingly be conned into admissions he would never have made on his own. The wedding was to be celebrated the coming Saturday. Guy was marrying a very special girl by the name of Alana Callaghan—‘the most beautiful girl in the valley’—or so the legend went. Linc had been delighted to accept his friend’s invitation. Besides it would give him the opportunity to view Briar’s Ridge.

Alana and her brother, Kieran, had inherited the sheep farm from their late father. Guy had told him it was a good buy, and Guy was the man in the know. Guy also knew Linc was anxious to strike out on his own. Briar’s Ridge just might work.

It would be a huge challenge, even so. He did have money of his own, plus a nice little nest egg he had inherited from his maternal grandad—God rest his gracious, loving soul. His father, Ben, as tight-fisted as they came, would have refused point-blank to lend him a stake. Giving was out of the question. The only thing his father would have given was a few tips to Scrooge. Except where Cheryl was concerned. Linc felt a burning in his chest at the thought of Cheryl, who could have answered to the name Jezebel. Cheryl was another pressing reason he had to get away from Gilgarra. Cheryl, the third Mrs Ben Mastermann, had taken no time at all to fix her predatory china-blue eyes on him, of all people. He had taken it as a tremendous insult—both to his father and him.

Now nowhere was safe. A woman hell-bent on pursuing a man who in no way wanted her wasn’t a pretty sight. He might have earned himself a bit of a reputation with the ladies, but he considered himself an honourable man. Hell, he was an honourable man. His only option had been to approach his father and let him know of his ambition to strike out on his own. He wasn’t about to tell him that day was at hand. Ben Mastermann had been known to wreck more than one property sale.

‘Your place is right here!’ his father, angry as a bull, had bellowed, veins like cords standing up in his neck. Ben Mastermann had been furious that his younger son was willing to abandon their family heritage, even though everyone in the district knew father and son were nearly always at loggerheads.

What his father didn’t know, and Linc could never tell him, was the problem he was having freezing out Cheryl. Their mother had only been dead two years before their father had taken Valerie Horden, a socialite divorcee and a longtime acquaintances to wife. That hadn’t lasted, although Val hadn’t been a bad sort—kind to him and Chuck in an off-hand sort of way. Not that they’d seen much of her, what with school and university. The marriage was over after six years, with a ritual exchange of insults, laying blame, and a hefty settlement for Valerie. Nothing like marriage to bring out the best and worst in people. Val, a dedicated sportswoman, had plunged in, but had soon found herself way out of her depth with the demanding and autocratic Ben Mastermann.

Then had come a long hiatus, but just when Linc and Chuck had thought they had good reason to believe their father had abandoned any search for another wife, without warning along came Cheryl—who had seriously been searching for a rich husband along with the meaning of life. That had been a little over two oppressive years ago, and even now Cheryl was only a few years older than Chuck, which put her in her early thirties. The two brothers had spotted her as a gold-digger on sight. Chuck had put on a tortured smile for his father’s benefit—Chuck was such a good-natured guy, and he loathed confrontations—but Linc, who had adored his mother, had stood well back, realising there was going to be trouble. Big-time.

Their father still believed Cheryl had fallen as madly in love with him as he had with her. He even joshed her about her ‘chasing him’. That was something Linc and Chuck definitely believed. Not that their dad wasn’t a fine-looking man, but he was in his late fifties to Cheryl’s thirty-two or three, and of course there was the tiny fact their dad was loaded. Some ladies appreciated that sort of thing. A rich older guy was infinitely better than a young guy who wasn’t. There had even been talk of their having a baby. He’d wait for that to happen. The luscious Cheryl was obsessed with her figure, and he’d bet the farm Cheryl had no intention of getting pregnant. She would even convince his dad it was his fault without saying a word. Wasn’t that the way with older guys who had so much to prove?