Beresford's Bride

That brought her head up. She stared at him, finding lights flickering in his brilliant eyes. “Don’t endanger yourself doing it,” she warned.

“I can take care of myself, Antoinette.” He brought his gaze deliberately to her soft, luscious mouth.

“Ah, the optimism of the confirmed bachelor.” Toni was grateful the breeze was cooling her cheeks.

“Really. I can get married any time I like.”

“Lord knows, you’re entitled,” she managed to say, smooth as honey. “I almost feel sorry I’m not available.”

“I’m not a baby snatcher, either.”

“Byrne Beresford, I’m way over the legal age.” Her violet eyes glowed.

He brought up his hand and mussed her shining hair a little. “To me you’re a minor.”

“Could it be you feel threatened?” Suddenly she was enjoying herself, caught between the need for control and going off like a rocket.

“Distracted, maybe.” Byrne’s silver eyes sparkled like coins in the sunlight.

“Well, I figure that’s good enough.”

He threw a glance over her shoulder, and Toni turned. Two women were coming down the steps, the older with some regality as befitted the mistress of Castle Hill, the younger, tall, slim, dark-haired, at an excited rush.

“Front up, young Streeton,” Byrne drawled.

Cate went into her fiancé’s, waiting arms, turning to beam radiantly at his sister. “Toni, how lovely to see you. You’ve grown every bit as beautiful as Byrne said. Welcome home.”

Toni moved spontaneously so they could exchange a kiss. “I’m thrilled to be home, Cate. Thank you so much for wanting me as your bridesmaid. I’m honoured.”

“How could I not have you?” Cate exclaimed. “We’ll be sisters in a month’s time. I’ve always wanted a sister.”

“Antoinette, my dear.” Sonia Beresford had reached them, a handsome, forceful woman of well above aver age height with dark gray eyes, a thick sweep of near black hair and a manner that suggested she never, but never lost her cool.

“Mrs. Beresford.”

Toni was hugged lightly. “Welcome home, my dear. I hope you’re not going to go off and leave us again?”

“My plans are a little unsettled at the moment, Mrs. Beresford,” Toni said, keeping her mouth curved in a smile. “I’m so thrilled and excited about the wedding.”

“We all are, my dear. Our two families united.” Sonia Beresford looked with pride at her son, then turned her patrician head to Kerry. “And how are you, my dear?”

“Fine, Sonia.” A white smile lit Kerry’s attractive face. “It’s wonderful having Toni back. We talked into the small hours and we still haven’t talked ourselves out.”

“So much to catch up on, dear.”

“Take the bags to the veranda, would you, Pike?” Byrne spoke to an approaching houseman. Giving orders was a Beresford way of life, Toni thought.

“Well, don’t let’s stand here in the hot sun. Come into the house,” Sonia said in her smooth contralto.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Byrne said, sketching a brief salute.

“You’ll be back in time for lunch, won’t you, darling?” his mother asked a little anxiously.

“Sure. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he answered, and gave Toni a final sizzling glance.

“Notice any changes?” Sonia asked as they walked to the house.

“It looks perfect, as always,” Toni said. “That magnificent white creeper is new.” She looked toward the lofty exterior of the two-storeyed building, a central core flanked by two large wings set to form a semicircle. The stone pillars of the ground floor formed a magnificent colonnade that was festooned with a luxuriant creeper bearing masses of pure white trumpet flowers.

“I got very tired of the bougainvillea,” Sonia explained. “It made a wonderful display but it was hard to control. The moon flower has been in for about three years. It’s just perfect for the wedding. It flowers right through spring and summer.”

Inside the house Toni could see at a glance it had been refurbished on the grand scale for the coming wedding. Her partial view of the drawing room revealed the walls had been hung with a beautiful new paper in glowing yellow that went splendidly with the gold frames of the mirrors and paintings and the gold cornices that set off the white-plastered ceiling and the gold and white bookcases. It looked lovely and light and airy, yellow taffeta curtains at the long line of French doors.

Sonia caught her looking. “Plenty of time to go over the house, dear. It needed a little decorating, and now was the perfect time to do it. Let me show you to your room. You’ll want to settle in.”

They walked up the spectacular central staircase, possibly the most striking feature of the house, to the landing that divided to lead to the upper floor and the richly adorned gallery flooded with light from the glass dome above. The suite of bedrooms was off the gallery, and Sonia gestured toward the west wing. Like the entrance hall and the drawing room, the gallery had been repainted, its elaborate plasterwork continuing the yellow, white and gold theme. It looked remarkably beautiful and graceful, and it would have cost the earth.

Sonia waved a vaguely apologetic hand.

“Even Byrne had to question all the money that was being spent. But it’s not every day one’s only daughter gets married. And from home. I’m so thrilled about that. You’re down this way, my dear. You’ll have a lovely view of the walled garden.”

Sonia paused outside an open doorway and stood back for Toni to precede her. The room was lovely, decorated in French pieces, including the antique bed, the colour scheme pink and white. She had never in her life stayed at the homestead, although her parents had on many occasions for balls, parties and the like.

“Like it?” Sonia smiled at Toni’s transparent expression.

“It’s a beautiful room, Mrs. Beresford. Enchanting.”

“And it’s yours for the wedding.” Sonia walked to an arrangement of pink roses on the small writing desk and tweaked at a stray flower. “Really, I had a marvellous time doing everything up. I can only hope when Byrne makes his mother happy and chooses a bride she shares my tastes.”

“I love everything I’ve seen.” Toni smiled, walking to the open French doors and looking over the walled section of the garden. “You’re a wonderful gardener, as well.”

“These days, dear, I only do the planning,” Sonia said. “I don’t like to talk about it, but I’ve developed arthritis in my hands. Just like my dear mother. I’m not having the lawns mown until the day before the wedding. I want them to stay green. We use bore water, of course, and we were very fortunate with the winter rains. A miracle, really, after so many daunting years. The long-range forecast is for heavy rain over tropical Queensland about Christmas, so we’ll eventually get the floodwaters.”