“I don’t pity him,” Kieran fumed. “We’re sick to death of being ignored and humiliated, Guy, of having our father spoken about with such contempt. How callous can a man get? If he weren’t an old fogey I’d have socked him.” He stared at his friend, so angry there was a red mist in front of his eyes. “Listen, would Lana be all right with you?” It came out in a plea. “There’s someone I must see.”
“But of course,” Guy answered, as though surprised Kieran would even have to ask.
Alana looked at her brother in consternation. “Who is it? Where are you going?” They hadn’t planned anything but a quiet evening, most likely pondering their losses.
“I feel bad, Lana.” He looked to her for understanding. “But I need to see someone.”
“A woman?” Alana stared at her brother, thinking it quite possible Kieran had a secret life.
“Yes. Of course a woman.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “You’ll go back to the hotel? I really don’t know what time I’ll be in. It could be an hour or hours. But we’ll leave as scheduled—first thing after breakfast.”
Alana kept her head tilted to him. “What’s happening here, Kieran? Who is this mystery woman? She sounds pretty important to you.”
“Well, I’m not much use to her,” Kieran said with great bitterness. “Look, I have to get out of here.”
“Then go,” Guy urged him gently. “I’ll look after Alana.”
“I don’t need anyone to look after me.” Alana turned on Guy, her own temper going up a dozen notches. “Anyway, Guy, you must have plans of your own.”
“Which just so happen to include you.” He rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. “Off you go, Kieran. Everything’s okay here. You, however, look like a man who’s in dire need of comfort.”
Kieran’s blue eyes flashed. ‘Thanks, Guy.” He transferred his gaze to his sister. “I’ll make it up to you, Lana.” With that he turned on his heel and stomped away, his tall, powerful body all tightly coiled fury.
They were out on the street, and strong sunlight, even at late afternoon, bounced off the pavement. The sidewalk was busy with people hurrying to and fro; traffic streamed bumper to bumper.
“There’s no need for you to bother about me, Guy,” Alana said, trying to keep her enormous upset down. Who exactly did her uncle think he was? The next Pope? “Your mother brought disgrace on herself and the family!” What did that mean? Some words, once uttered, could never be called back. The man was paranoid about family, and insufferably sanctimonious. “I’m perfectly all right on my own.”
“I don’t think so.” He was finely tuned to her mood, and deeply sympathetic.
“You’ll want to be with your friends,” she persisted doggedly.
“I regard you and Kieran as my friends.”
“Gosh, I don’t know if we’re fit to be your friends,” she muttered bitterly. “What the hell was my uncle on about? You know everything that goes on in the Valley. I adored my mother. She was a beautiful, dignified, gracious woman. How could she have brought disgrace on herself? Forget her awful family. They’re the real disgrace. They act like the enemy—except for Rose. How did Rose miss out on their worst characteristics? My mother marrying my father can’t possibly explain Uncle Charles’s attitude.”
“I told you. Charles is a tortured soul. And his wife and daughters have been affected to a greater or lesser degree. Rose, the youngest, is the most fortunate. Most of it has rubbed off on Violette, for which I pity her. Now, why don’t we go and grab a cup off coffee?”
“I don’t want one,” she said mutinously, unaware that the sparkle in her eyes and the colour in her cheeks made her look extraordinarily beautiful.
“Okay—a stiff drink. Don’t argue. I want one, even if you don’t. You can’t do anything about your mother’s family, Alana. Don’t even try.”
“Why do you just pick up and then drop Violette?” she accused him. “You sound on side with her, yet she’s so horrible. Could it be you’re only interested in her body?”
He glanced down at her rebellious face. “I’ll forget you said that, because you’re so upset. Here—this will do.” He drew her off the pavement into the foyer of one of the city’s leading hotels.
“Why don’t we check in while we’re at it?” she suggested, putting her hand out to catch his arm. “Kieran has a mystery woman. I’m going to get myself a mystery man.”
“Well, that lets me out,” Guy said evenly.” I’ve known you all your life.”
In the handsomely appointed lounge, Alana sank into a comfortable chair. Only a few tables were occupied. Smiles and quiet conversation. It would be another hour before the regulars and the after-work crowd arrived.
“What will it be?” Guy remained standing, his face showing its own brooding tension.
If anything, it only made him look even sexier, she thought, feeling angry, nervy and very, very physical. No one brought it out in her like this man.
“Perhaps it’s time I took to the whisky?” she said.
“Let’s settle for a gin and tonic—or a glass of white wine?”
“It really ought to be champagne. For you, anyway. Congratulations, Guy.” She lifted her hazel eyes to him, angry, unshed tears making them diamond-bright. “Kieran and I were waiting behind to tell you that when my awful, awful, malevolent relatives walked into us. I have to say it was by mistake. I think they were discussing what was happening tonight.”
“It definitely wasn’t happening with me,” Guy said. “Just try to relax. You’ve got enough burdens without taking your relatives on board. I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked away to the bar, with every female eye in the vicinity tracking him. A woman would have to be blind to miss him.
An animal lover, Alana always saw her brother as a golden lion and Guy as a sleek black panther. And where was Kieran going, so completely and utterly furious? It had been blindingly obvious. Of course he had a woman in Sydney. He was a virile young man. Sydney was little over a two hour drive from the Valley. The big hurt was that he hadn’t confided in her. She tried to accept that, but the hurt gnawed deep at her. Why hadn’t he told her about something so important? He told her just about everything else. Was it possible the mystery woman was married? Oh, that was so risky. She would be beautiful, of course. The artist in Kieran would be drawn like a magnet to a beautiful woman. But she couldn’t be more beautiful than Alexandra Radcliffe. Alex was really and truly a classic beauty. Although Alex and Kieran operated on different planes.
Guy returned empty handed. “What about my G&T?” she asked in surprise. “Not even a bowl of nuts or a packet of potato chips?” She tried to fight her edginess with banter.
He sat down in the chair nearest her. “There you go again! I’ve ordered a bottle of champagne.”
“Good heavens! Isn’t that a dumb thing to do? I’m just so angry and despondent I might get drunk.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He very gently patted her hand, his dark eyes glinting. “You had a good lunch, didn’t you?’
“Not as good as yours, I bet.” It was usual for the pastoral houses to take the big wool producers to lunch on sales day. “Oh, God, what a day!” she lamented. “We’re going to lose Briar’s Ridge, Guy. We needed good sales. We’re