Heaven help me, I might like a bit of glamour and excitement myself!
Rory didn’t want to know it, but he was a man at war with himself.
They were all assembled in the drawing room, chatting easily together, drinks in hand.
‘Ah, there you are, Rory. What’s it to be?’ Clay asked. ‘I’ve made a pitcher of ice-cold martinis if you’re interested?’
‘They’re very good!’ Meryl Stapleton held up her glass. ‘Clay told me his secret. Just show the vermouth bottle to the gin.’
Rory laughed. ‘I’m not a great one for cocktails, I’m afraid.’
‘A beer then?’ Clay produced a top brand.
‘Fine.’ Rory smiled and went to sit beside Chloe who was sending out silent but unmistakable signals. A man could learn a lot from a woman who wanted him to sit beside her. She flushed up prettily and shifted her rounded bottom to make a place for him. Still no sign of the sister. Perhaps she was all damped down with depression? Maybe their hostess would have to go to her and offer a little encouragement?
Greg Stapleton, a slightly avid expression on his face, immediately started into asking him if he was any relation to the Channel Country Comptons. ‘You know the cattle dynasty?’
Obviously Clay hadn’t filled him in. Rory was grateful for that. He really didn’t want to talk about his family. Nevertheless he found himself nodding casually. ‘The very same, Greg.’
‘Say that’s great!’ Greg Stapleton gazed back at him with heightened interest. ‘But what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You’d be way out of your territory?’
Rory answered pleasantly though he wanted to call, ‘That’s it!’
‘Actually, Greg, I’m looking to start up on my own.’
Stapleton look amazed. ‘Glory be! When Turrawin is one of our major cattle stations? The biggest and the best in the nation. Surely you’d have more than enough to do there?’
‘I have an elder brother, Greg,’ Rory said, making it sound like it was no big deal instead of a boot out the door situation. ‘Jay’s my father’s heir. Not me. I’ve always wanted to do my own thing.’
‘And I’m sure you’ll be marvellous at it,’ Chloe spoke up protectively and gently touched his arm. Chloe it appeared was a very sympathetic young woman. Nothing wrong with that!
‘I’m totally against this primogeniture thing!’ Greg announced. ‘It’s all wrong and it’s hopelessly archaic.’
‘Ah, here’s Allegra!’ Caroline rose gracefully to her feet, grateful for the intervention her guest’s arrival presented. Clay had told her in advance a little of Rory Compton’s story so she knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it. But there was no stopping Greg once he got started. She welcomed the newcomer to their midst. ‘Just in time for a drink before dinner, Allegra!’
‘That would be lovely!’ A faintly husky, marvellously sexy, voice responded.
My God, what a turn up!
Rory just managed to hold himself back from outright staring. He was absolutely certain this femme fatale had left not just a husband but a string of broken hearts in her wake. He had enough presence of mind to rise to his feet along with the other men as Chloe’s sister walked into the room to join them. No, not walked. It was more like a red carpet glide. How exactly did unexceptional Chloe feel about having this beautiful exotic creature for a sister? All Rory’s sympathies were with Chloe. The sisters couldn’t have looked less alike. He hoped Chloe wasn’t jealous. Jealousy was a hell of a thing to haul around.
In a split second his dazzlement turned to an intense wariness and even a lick of sexual antagonism that appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t admirable and it stunned him. He wasn’t usually this judgemental.
She was a redhead. Not Titian. A much deeper shade. More the lustrous red one saw in the heart of a garnet, a stone he recalled had been sacred to ancient civilisations such as the Aztecs and the Mayans. She wore her hair long and flowing. He liked that. Most men would. It curved away from her face and fell over her shoulders like a shining cape. It even lifted most glamorously in the evening breeze that wafted through the French doors. Her eyes were a jewelled topaz-blue, set in a thick fringe of dark lashes. Her skin wasn’t the pale porcelain usually seen in redheads. It had an alluring tint of gold. Very very smooth. Probably she dyed her hair. That would explain the skin tones. Her hair was an extraordinary colour.
She was much taller than Chloe with a body as slender and pliant as a lily. Her yellow silk dress was perfectly simple, yet to him it oozed style. He might have been staring at some beautiful young woman who modelled high couture clothes for a living or something equally frivolous like spinning the wheel on a quiz show.
‘You know everyone except Rory,’ Caroline was saying, happy to make the introduction. ‘Allegra this is Rory Compton who hails from the Channel Country. Rory, this is Chloe’s sister, Allegra Hamilton.’
She was walking towards him, graciously extending a long delicate hand. What was he supposed to do, fall to one knee? Kiss the air above her fingers? Powerful attraction often went along with a rush of contrary emotions, or so he had read. ‘How do you do,’ she said in that husky voice, as though equally struck by something in him she didn’t quite understand, or for that matter like.
It might have been a gale force wind instead of a breeze blowing through the open doors. Rory swallowed hard on the roaring in his ears. What the hell! One could shake hands with a vision. Get it over. Life went on. He knew he hadn’t imagined the shiver of electricity. It was a wonder they hadn’t struck sparks off one another. It happened. But there was bound to be a scientific explanation. He felt more comfortable with that, though he hadn’t the slightest doubt she could cause such a response at will.
Well ma’am, I survived it!
She didn’t smile at him, coolly summing him up. He didn’t smile at her. Instead they studied one another with an absolute thoroughness that seemed to lock out everyone else in the room.
She looked away first.
He didn’t know how to interpret that. A win or a loss?
Over dinner, it turned out stunning Allegra was also smart. Pretty soon he’d be lost in admiration. Lighthearted conversation set the tone for most of the meal. They talked about anything and everything. A recent art auction, remarkable for the high prices paid for aboriginal art, music, classical and pop, favourite films, books, celebrities in the news, steering clear of anything confrontational. He liked the way she entered spiritedly into the discussions, revealing not only a broad general knowledge, but a wicked sense of humour. Now why should that surprise him? Rory had to chide himself for being so damned chauvinistic in the face of the twenty-first century. Why shouldn’t there be a good brain behind that beautiful exterior? His mother had been a clever woman, well educated, well read. Not much of a mother, however, as it turned out. Not all glorious looking women kept themselves busy luring rich guys into marriage he reminded himself.
What really