Читать книгу The Wedding Bargain - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 8

One

“We are gathered here today...”

The priest’s perfectly modulated voice filled the cathedral as sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, bathing the hallowed space with jeweled tones. The heady scent of the gardenias in Shanal’s bridal bouquet, imported specifically at Burton’s request, wafted up to fill her senses—and left her feeling slightly suffocated.

“...to join together Burton and Shanal in matrimony...”

Was this what she really wanted above all things? She looked across to her groom. Burton Rogers, so handsome, so intelligent, so successful. So rich. He was a good guy, no, a great guy. And she liked him, she really did.

Like. Such an insipid expression, really.

“...which is an honorable and solemn estate and therefore is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly.”

Words she’d spoken to her best friend, Ethan Masters, only a year ago, echoed in her mind. You have the chance to have the kind of forever love that many people can only dream of. I envy you that because that’s the kind of love I want from the man I marry, if I ever marry. And you can be certain I’m not prepared to settle for less than that, ever.

They’d been brave words, spoken before her world had begun to crumble around her. Before she’d chosen to sacrifice the chance to find true love. Before she’d latched onto the opportunity to give her parents a secure retirement after their lives had been torn apart.

Was Burton her forever love? No. Was she settling for less? Most definitely.

Everyone in the lab at the viticulture research center had said it had been a lucky day for her when she’d caught Burton’s attention. They’d teased her about finding love in their clinical environment and she guessed, on the face of things, they had a point. As her boss, Burton had a reputation for expecting excellence in everything around him. Clearly, she had fallen within that category. And on the face of it, she’d agreed about how fortunate she was—faking joy amongst her colleagues when he’d proposed marriage and offered to solve her problems. She’d convinced everyone around her until she’d nearly believed herself that her engagement had made her the luckiest woman in the world.

Everyone gathered here in the cathedral believed this to be the happiest day of her life. Everyone except the one person who’d tried to talk her out of it. She flicked a glance sideways, but she couldn’t spot Raif Masters, Ethan’s cousin, in the crowd of two hundred guests jammed into the pews. She knew he was here, though. From the moment she’d walked down the aisle, accompanied by both her parents—her father in his wheelchair, on a rare appearance in public—she’d felt the simmering awareness that she felt only in Raif’s presence.

“Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined.”

A buzzing sound began to build in Shanal’s ears and her chest grew tight. A tremor in her hands made the heavy bouquet quiver—releasing another burst of cloying scent.

“If anyone here has just cause why Burton and Shanal may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Silence stretched out in the cathedral—silence filled with the ever increasing buzz in her ears and the erratic pounding of her heart.

Forever.

It was a very long time.

She thought for a brief second of her parents. Of how her father had always loved and provided for her mother. Of how her mother had always stood rock solid by her man, even now with all the uncertainty their future promised. Would Burton ever be that rock for her? Could he be? The priest’s words echoed through her mind. ...just cause...not be lawfully joined together...speak now...

“I do,” Shanal said, her voice shaking, unsure.

Burton inclined his perfectly coiffed head, a puzzled twist to his lips. “Darling? That’s not your line, not yet, anyway.”

She dropped her bouquet, unheeding now of the scent of the flowers as they fell heavily on the carpeted altar, and worked her three-carat, princess-cut diamond engagement ring from her finger. A princess for his princess, Burton had said when he’d slid it on her hand—its fit perfect, of course.

Shanal thrust the ring toward him. “I can’t do this, Burton. I’m so sorry,” she choked out.

It was the first time she’d ever seen her erudite fiancé at a loss for words. With the perfect manners that were so much a part of him, he automatically accepted his ring back from her. The moment his fingers curled around the symbol of their future together, Shanal turned away from the priest in his raiment, her groom in his hand-finished tuxedo, and gathered her voluminous skirts in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in the direction of her parents, who sat in the front pew, their faces masks of shock, dismay and concern.

Then she ran.

* * *

Raif Masters had listened to the priest intoning the ceremony—a ceremony he was attending only as a favor to Ethan, who was away on his own honeymoon. Shanal Peat and Ethan had been friends for so long that it was almost as if she was part of the Masters family. It was only right that someone from the family be there for her today. He just wished it wasn’t him. If Raif had had his way he’d have been anywhere but here. The idea of watching his cousin’s best friend marrying Raif’s nemesis was only slightly more appealing than spending the day passing a kidney stone.

He was already plotting his escape from the festivities at the earliest opportunity when he heard the objection request. He had, in fact, briefly considered standing up himself, because he did object to this wedding—on more than one level. But Shanal had made it perfectly clear a couple months ago that it wasn’t his place to say anything. She hadn’t wanted to hear it when he’d tried to explain to her that Burton Rogers was not the kind of man she should be tying herself to—literally or figuratively. Not for five minutes, let alone the rest of her life. But she had blinders on as far as Rogers was concerned, which, no doubt, was exactly as the other man liked it.

When Ethan had asked him to attend the wedding in his stead, Raif had objected quite emphatically, pointing out that he had no desire to see Rogers stand up to marry Shanal. In fact, he had no desire to see the other man, period. Even before the messiest parts of their history there had always been something about Burton that made Raif want to plant a fist in his arrogant face.

Ethan had brushed over his objections, reminding him that with all that was going on at The Masters, their family’s resort and winery, he was the only one who could get away for the ceremony. Even so, it made Raif sick to his gut to see her willingly link herself to a man who lived by a single-minded agenda—doing whatever it took to make his life perfect, no matter who got hurt along the way. In Raif’s experience, Burton was careless with others and only out for what he could get. He was the man Raif still held responsible for the death of his ex-girlfriend, Laurel Hollis, no matter what the coroner’s findings had delivered.

Rogers had managed to walk away from the canyoneering accident without an ounce of blame, but while Raif hadn’t been witness to it he had always believed there was more to the incident than had been disclosed. And he hadn’t given up on finding out the truth one day, either. But for now, he had to sit and watch the woman he’d desired ever since he was a schoolboy with a crush that had lasted for longer than he cared to admit, marry a man he neither liked nor trusted.

Younger than her by three years, Raif had always found his relationship with Shanal awkward, right from when they’d first met fifteen years ago. Once she’d embarrassingly shattered his more intimate aspirations toward her—and in front of his entire family into the bargain—their interactions had been peppered with veiled barbs and verbal sparring when they’d crossed paths. But his attraction toward her had never dimmed, in spite of it all. And while they had never been close, he did truly care about her and wanted her to be happy.

He’d borne all that in mind when he’d gone to see her when the engagement was announced. Raif didn’t believe that Burton Rogers was capable of making any woman lastingly happy, and had wanted to warn Shanal. He should have known better. Once she’d overcome her surprise at his visit, she hadn’t hesitated to tell him he was wasting his time when he’d strongly urged her to reconsider her marriage to her boss. In fact she’d told him, with her usual economy with words, to butt out. And he had.

Now the entire cathedral was paralyzed in disbelief—Raif no less so than the people seated on the pew next to him.

Had his words been the catalyst that now sent her flying past him in a flurry of tulle and diamantes on her way down the aisle and out the front doors?

The stricken expression he’d spotted on her face galvanized him into action. Whatever their differences, she needed help. And since the reason she needed help was that she’d taken the advice he had given, he felt he owed it to her to be the one to come to her aid.

The doors of the church clanged closed in front of him and he pulled one heavy wooden panel open and shot down the steps in hot pursuit of the vision in white that raced across the road without looking, and into the gardens beyond. That was where he found her—she’d stopped running by the time he caught up. Her breath was coming in great gasps and her usually glowing, light bronze skin now looked pale and sallow. Raif guided her to a bench and pushed her head down between her knees before she collapsed right there on the gravel path.

“Breathe,” he instructed, ripping off his suit jacket and draping it over her bare, shaking shoulders, dwarfing her delicate frame. Adelaide in July was not warm, and dressed as she was in a strapless gown, she’d freeze in no time. “Slow and deep. C’mon,” he said encouragingly. “You can do it.”

“I...had...to get...away,” she gasped.

He was shocked by how anxious she was. Shanal was always the Queen of Calm. Nothing unnerved her. Except maybe the carpet python he’d slipped in her bag when he was fifteen.

He rubbed her shoulders through the fine wool of his jacket. “Don’t talk, just breathe, Shanal. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, no it’s not.”

Her words came out strangled, panicked.

“You’ll work it out,” he said, as reassuringly as he could under the circumstances.

Even as the words left his mouth he was reminded of the expression on Burton’s face as he’d been left standing at the altar. An expression Shanal had missed seeing completely, thank God, or she might not have stopped running at all.

Raif had long known Burton was avaricious—he’d always had to both be the best and have the best, by any means possible. But there was another edge to him, as well—and that edge had been clear on his face for a split second as he’d seen his latest intended acquisition flee from him. Raif might not have had much to do with him over the past three years, but he knew that Burton Rogers was not a man who enjoyed being thwarted.

Shanal struggled to sit upright, tugging flowers and her veil from her jet-black hair without any heed to the pins that must be raking her scalp. She tossed the destroyed blooms and filmy material to the walkway at her feet. She turned to Raif and grabbed his hands. He was shocked at how cold she felt already. As if she was chilled to her bones.

“Take me away,” she implored. “Take me far away, right now.”

It was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Just, please, get me out of here,” she begged, her bewitching, pale green eyes shining with unshed tears.

It was the tears that undid him. He thought about his Maserati, parked a good two blocks away. Only a handful of people had come out of the cathedral so far, but more were bound to follow soon. He and Shanal would never make it to the car before someone reached them, he thought, and once the crowd got to them, Shanal would be fielding questions left and right from a slew of concerned family members and friends wanting to know why she’d walked out on her own wedding. She didn’t look as if she was up to conversation right now. As he swiftly considered their options, a taxi rounded the corner. Raif secured Shanal’s small hand in his and pulled her to her feet.

“C’mon,” he said, as he bolted for the sidewalk, towing Shanal along behind him.

He raised his hand to get the cabbie’s attention. To his immense relief the guy pulled over, his eyes as round as saucers and his mouth hanging open as Raif yanked open the back door and guided Shanal inside. He barked his address to the startled driver as he yanked the door closed behind them.

Shanal sat next to him, pale but finally seeming more composed, as they pulled away from the curb and down the street. Raif cast one look through the back window. The crowd on the sidewalk outside the cathedral had grown. In its midst stood Burton, his eyes fixed on the retreating cab. Even from this distance Raif felt a prickle of unease. The groom, understandably, did not look happy.

Raif faced forward again. Burton’s happiness had never been a priority of his, and as long as the man didn’t take his anger out on Shanal in any way, Raif admitted to himself that he was delighted that his nemesis’s day had been ruined.

He and Shanal had little privacy in the cab and Raif maintained his silence until, nearly forty-five minutes later, they reached his home. His phone, already on Silent for the ceremony, vibrated continuously in his trouser pocket. He knew exactly who was calling—and he had no intention of answering him.

“What are we doing here?” Shanal asked as the cab drew away, leaving them outside Raif’s single-level home nestled at the edge of the family’s old and well-established vineyard. “It’s the first place he’ll look, isn’t it? He’s bound to have seen us getting into the cab together.”

Raif’s eyebrows shot up. “I hadn’t realized we were meant to be hiding from him. You really don’t want him to know where you are? You’re absolutely certain you don’t want to work this out with him?”

In response, Shanal shuddered. “No, I can’t. I...I just can’t.”

Raif reached past her to unlock his front door, then gestured for her to precede him. The incongruity of the situation struck him. He’d always imagined bringing a bride back here to his home one day—just not exactly like this. But if she wanted to get away from Burton, then the least Raif could do was let her freshen up before she headed off to...wherever it was she planned on going from here.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Some water, please.”

She followed him into the open-plan living area, her heels clicking and the multilayered skirts of her gown making a swooshing sound on the hard surface of the tiled floor. In the kitchen, he poured her a glass of mineral water from the fridge and handed it to her. She took a long drink.

“Thanks,” she said, putting the glass down on the granite countertop with a click. “I needed that. Now where are you taking me? We can’t stay here.”

Taking her? What made her think he was taking her anywhere? She’d asked him to get her away from the wedding. He’d done that. Surely that was where his involvement began and ended. Not that he was unwilling to help her, but she’d always been so aloof toward him, had always kept him very firmly at a distance. Why would she be depending on him now? It was so unlike her.

Shanal obviously realized what he was thinking. “I’m sorry, that was presumptuous of me. What I meant was, can you help me to get away for a bit? I’m kind of stuck.”

She held her arms out from her dress in a gesture of helplessness. She was right. She was stuck, and in what she was wearing right now. She didn’t even have a purse with her.

Raif studied her carefully. Her face was stretched into a tight mask of strain and her eyes had the look of a frightened animal. Even though this shouldn’t be his problem right now, he racked his brains for something he could do to help her—somewhere she could go to get away from this whole mess. Ethan had chosen a fine time to marry his long-time fiancée, Isobel, and head away on a honeymoon cruise in the Caribbean, Raif thought uncharitably. A smile twisted one side of his mouth as an idea bloomed in his mind.

“How about a cruise?”

“A cruise?” Shanal looked surprise.

“Yeah. On a riverboat. I have a friend who has just re-engined and refurbished one of his fleet. He was moaning about not having time to run the motor in before it gets repositioned farther up the Murray. A nice, slow trip up the river sounds like just what you need and you’d be doing Mac a favor by getting some hours on the engine, as well.”

“How soon can we leave?”

“You’re serious? You want to do that?”

She nodded.

“Let me make a call.”

He stepped out of the living area and into his office on the other side of the hall. He checked his phone. Yup, there were several messages, most of them from the same number—Burton Rogers. He deleted those without listening. Let the guy simmer in his own juices for a while. He frowned a little when he recognized Shanal’s parents’ number. He’d have to let them know she was okay, but first he needed to contact his friend.

Now, where had he put Mac’s contact details... Aha! Raif spied the business card his friend had given him when they’d last caught up for a drink in Adelaide, and keyed the number into his phone. A few minutes later it was all set.

Shanal was standing at the large bifold glass doors that faced the vineyard when he came back into the room. She’d slid his jacket off her shoulders and had pulled the last of the pins from her hair, leaving it to cascade down her back like a long, wavy black river of silk. His hand itched to reach out, to touch her hair, to stroke it. Stupid, he told himself. The persistent physical attraction that had ignited back when he was a schoolboy continued to simmer beneath the surface, but he knew better than to act on it. Shanal herself had taught him that lesson. He’d gotten this far through his life without setting himself up for another smackdown like the one she’d dealt him twelve years ago, and he certainly wasn’t going to set himself up for one now.

“You okay?” he asked.

She sighed, her body wilting from its strong stance. She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay after this.”

“Hey, of course you will. I’ve spoken to Mac and he’s happy to make the boat available. With the school holidays over it’s pretty quiet for him right now, so you can take all the time you need. It’ll be good for you, the perfect getaway. You’ll have time and space to think, and when you come back you can tackle what happens next with a fresh mind.”

Her lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “Somehow I don’t think a fresh mind is going to make a big difference in resolving my problems, but thank you for all you’ve done. How soon can we leave?”

Raif calculated. It was just over an hour’s drive to Mannum, where Mac would have the houseboat waiting.

“I’ll need to get changed first. Do you want me to see if Cathleen left anything here that you can change into? We can always pick you up some more clothes on the way to the marina if you like.”

His younger sister had house-sat for him when he’d gone to France on a recent fact-finding mission relating to the family vineyard operations. Not that the place needed to be minded, but while Cathleen for the most part loved living with the rest of their family at The Masters, when the opportunity to be on her own arose from time to time, she clutched at it with both hands. He could understand why she felt like that. It was, after all, why he’d chosen to build here, on the fringe of the family’s oldest vineyard, as opposed to taking a suite of rooms in the family home. Sometimes a person just needed to be alone.

“Please,” Shanal said, plucking at the skirts of her gown. “I really want to get out of this. It’s a little attention seeking, don’t you think?”

It was good to see she still had a touch of the acerbic humor he’d borne the brunt of so often in the past.

“A little,” he agreed with a quirk of his lips. “Come with me and let’s see what we can find.”

He led her down the hall toward the guest wing of the house and to the room Cathleen had used. There, he slid open one of the wardrobe doors. For the first time ever he silently thanked his sister for her habit of leaving her things wherever she went. A clean pair of jeans and some tops were neatly folded on a shelf in the wardrobe. A lightweight jacket hung on the rail and there was even a pair of sneakers in a box on the floor.

“You two are about the same size, aren’t you?” he said, gesturing to the garments in the cupboard.

“Close.” Shanal nodded and reached for the jeans and one of the long-sleeved T-shirts, which she put on the bed behind them. “But even if the clothes aren’t a perfect fit, given the circumstances, I’d rather wear anything else than this dress. Can you help me get out of it? The buttons are so tiny I can’t do it on my own.”

Raif swallowed against the dryness that suddenly hit his throat. Undress her? Hell, he’d dreamed about this moment on and off since he was fifteen years old. He slammed the door on his wayward thoughts. This was neither the time nor the place to indulge in his fantasies, he informed himself firmly. She needed a friend right now, and that was what he’d be. Nothing more. Now and always, she didn’t want anything more from him—and he wasn’t going to set himself up for yet another rejection from her.

Shanal turned her back to him and lifted the swathe of her hair to one side. A waft of her fragrance, an intoxicating blend of spice and flowers, enticed him. Urged him to dip his head and inhale more deeply. He fought the impulse and breathed through his mouth. She wasn’t his to touch, or taste, or anything, he reminded himself.

She’d just run from her fiancé, and while every cell in his body was thrilled to bits about that—some cells more than others—he wasn’t the kind of guy to take advantage of it. Not out of any respect for Burton, because the man deserved nothing but his contempt. But for Shanal’s sake. Whatever had driven her to leave her wedding in the middle of the ceremony—and in the back of his mind he ached to know what it was that had triggered her last-minute change of heart—she was clearly shaken and upset. Unwanted attentions from a guy she’d rejected a dozen times over were the last thing she needed.

Raif took in a deep breath, then applied himself to his task. Shanal’s skin was a delicate bronze above the edge of her strapless dress. A color that signaled the mixed heritage of her Indian mother and Australian dad.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear a sari,” Raif commented, determined to distract her from the fact that his fingers, usually dexterous and quite capable of the job at hand, had become uncharacteristically clumsy in the face of her proximity and the way that the tiny buttons, undone one by one, revealed more of her beautiful skin.

His fingers slipped on a button, brushing against her. Her skin peppered with goose bumps and he heard her gasp.

“Sorry,” he said, forcing himself to take more care.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice a little husky. “And as to your question about the sari? Burton said he preferred me to dress more traditionally.”

Raif frowned and was unable to keep the irritation from his voice when he spoke. “Traditionally? For whom?”

Shanal didn’t answer his question. “I think I can manage the rest myself,” she said, stepping just slightly out of his reach and pressing her hands against the crystal-encrusted bodice of her gown to stop it from sliding farther down. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll be down the hall getting changed myself. Just holler if you need me.”

Her pale eyes met his and he felt her trust in him as if it was a tangible thing. It was a surprisingly heady feeling. Shanal had always been so cool, so untouchable and in control. He’d never seen her this vulnerable, and the fact that she chose to put her trust in Raif when her guard was down... It meant a lot.

She gave him a small nod, then collected Cathleen’s clothes off the bed and turned to the bathroom. “I won’t be too long.”

“Take as long as you need,” he said, and left the room. In fact, take longer, he added silently. Because it sure as hell was going to take him a while to get his raging hormones under control.