Cattle Baron: Nanny Needed (3 page)

It was all so unreal she might have been having an out of body experience. And who was this man who kept a light but
secure
rein on her? Obviously, he was well known. His thick crow-black hair, swept back from a high brow, had a decided deep wave that was clipped to control. The bronze of his skin wasn’t fake. That tan came from a life in the sun. The light grey morning suit, which a lot of men couldn’t successfully carry off, only served to accentuate his height, width of shoulder and the natural elegance of his body. A man of action? He wasn’t any man about town. Impossible to remain anonymous when you looked like that. He certainly wasn’t a friend of Sean’s—his friends tended to be much like himself—so he had to be from the bride’s side.

“Ms Wyatt, isn’t it?” His voice, as classy as the rest of him, broke into her speculations.

“Round one to you. I can’t for the life of me figure out who
you
are and I’m really trying.” Though she spoke banteringly, she felt like a butterfly about to be pinned for his private collection. Indeed her heart was fluttering like a butterfly trapped in a cage. He had a beautiful mouth. How odd that she should even notice. Firm, very clean-cut, the rims slightly raised. He was someone Zee would describe as
drop dead sexy
. She was almost on the point of conceding that herself.

She wondered what he would look like when he smiled. Teeth were important to her. Good teeth. Even on this humiliating day, a woman publicly scorned, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off a perfect stranger. But then that was her training, she reassured herself. Her life as a journalist was
spent checking people out, remembering faces. She was naturally observant.

“Cal MacFarlane,” he introduced himself. “I’m the bride’s cousin.”

Her heart shook. But she wasn’t ready to buckle. Instead, she levelled him with a dubious stare. “Really? You don’t look in the least like her.” He looked more like that British actor Clive Owen. The same uber-male aura.

“I’m a MacFarlane, but we do share a grandfather, Sir Clive Erskine.”

“Ah, yes, Sir Clive.” She nibbled on her lower lip as her memory bank opened up. “You’re the Cattle Baron, right?” She was tuned in to a degree.

“Exactly.” Amusement cut sexy little grooves into the corners of his mouth. “You’re awfully audacious coming here, aren’t you, Ms Wyatt?”

She decided to wing it. After all, he couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure. “How do you know Sean didn’t send me an invitation? We were very close up until
very
recently.”

“So you intend to go out in a blaze of notoriety?” Her skewed gallantry smote his hard heart.

“Mr MacFarlane, I don’t know what you mean.” She let some of the sweetness slide. “I’m dedicated to doing the right thing. Or I have been up to date. And where did it get me? Lighten up. I promise I won’t cause any
real
bother.”

“You’re causing it already,” he told her very dryly. “This isn’t a joyous occasion, is it? Not for you and not particularly for me. I think, ultimately, my cousin is going to have to pay for marrying Sinclair in more ways than one.”

Amber’s brows rose. “Sweet Lord!” she said reverently. “You’ve got Sean’s measure already! It took me ages.”

“How that must lacerate you.”

“It does. I take it you don’t like him either?”

He inched her further away from the front doors. “I only
met him last night. I fear he may be totally unscrupulous which is one reason why I’m standing here
with
you instead of ushering you out the back.”

Her gaze turned appealing. “Come on, you wouldn’t do that?”

“Not if we can work something out.”

“Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t interfere.”

“Haven’t I just told you I’m family?” He smiled down into her face.

“Well, I don’t need you to feel
sorry
for me.” God, what a smile!

“I’m
not
sorry for you. I think you’ve had a lucky escape. So what are we going to do? Team decision. The bride will be arriving any minute.”

“Why, take our seats, of course.” She tried to peer around those wide shoulders.

“Tell you what, I’ll sit beside you.” Humour hovered around his mouth. “How’s that?”

“But I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from the bosom of your family Mr MacFarlane.”

“No problem. On second thoughts, I think we might slip up to the choir loft.” He cast a quick glance upwards. “We can’t be standing here when Georgie and her entourage arrives. By the sound of the clapping outside, it’s about to happen.”

“I do love it when they clap,” she said bleakly. “Supposing we stand here and goggle. After all, your cousin is the wittiest, prettiest, richest girl in town. And the most underhand. She stole my fiancé—such as he is—right from under my nose.”

“And I understand your hurt. But my guess is you’ll live to thank her. I suggest the choir loft.
Now.
Move it, Ms Wyatt. I’m quite capable of picking you up.”

“What, and fling me over your shoulder?”

“If I have to.” He slipped an arm around her waist and steered her towards the curving flight of wooden steps.

“I don’t know that I
want
to.” She was endeavouring to resist him but not making much headway.

“I don’t care what you want. Just
do
it. Sinclair might
deserve
a bloody good fright but he’s not worth it.”

“Why don’t
we
get married?” she turned her head over her shoulder to ask with biting sarcasm.

“Well, you were about to do a hell of a lot worse.”

The organist and the well known lyric soprano who had been hired to sing a selection of the bride’s favourite hymns looked around, startled, as they made their unexpected appearance in the spacious loft.

“Go ahead. Don’t take any notice of us.” Amber wiggled her fingers when she really wanted to scream. The cattle baron could ruin everything. “You have a lot to answer for, forcing me up here.” She kept it to a mere whisper. His ears were set beautifully against his shapely head. Sean’s weren’t. That was why he always wore his hair full and floppy.

“You’ll thank me in the end. Why don’t we find somewhere safe and sit it out? Unless you really do want to see the bride arriving?”

“Don’t you?” She was taken aback. “I mean, you’re family.”

“So I am,” he reminded himself. “You look beautiful, by the way.” As exquisite as a long-stemmed rose. “All things pass, Ms Wyatt. I’m merely preventing you from making a spectacle of yourself. You could lose your job, do you know that? My grandfather has influence everywhere. I believe he was impressed with the way you’ve handled yourself up to date. Don’t give him cause to damage your career,” Cal warned. “My grandfather can be ruthless when opposed or seriously displeased. In coming here today, you’ve run a big risk.”

“Get a lawyer. Sue me.” She broke off as the organist started up with a great ear-splitting fanfare that had her instinctively wrapping her ears with her hands. “God, that’s worse than a car alarm,” she muttered.

Even the cattle baron, used to stampedes, was looking aghast. “I’m tempted to go over to the balustrade and throw something.” The organist, on a roll, belted out the triumphant opening bars of Mendelssohn’s
Wedding March
. Why, oh why, did organists have to hit the keys so hard? Pianists didn’t hit the keys like that, even at a double forte.

“One can only wonder how the soprano will compete when her time comes,” Cal observed sardonically.

“How corny can you get? Mendelssohn!” Tears sprang into Amber’s eyes.

“No time to cry,” he warned her.

“Mr Tough Guy.”

“No, I’m a softie at heart. And no point in taking it out on the composer. Poor old Mendelssohn had to work like everyone else.”

“Except your cousin,” she reminded him tightly. “She must have fallen through the cracks. So are you going to take a peek at what she looks like? The dress is said to have cost thousands and thousands. I’ve heard she’s carrying a teeny bit of excess weight.”

“And who knows how long her pre-wedding diet will last?” He glanced down at the jilted Ms Wyatt, seeing the combination of delicacy, strength and intelligence in her features. He also saw the tremendous upset. She was very lovely. Beauty could sometimes be severe. She was beautiful in a tender way. Not even an old cynic like him could view such a woman with indifference. “Now, don’t go worrying about me. I’ve been to a thousand weddings.” He took a firm hold of her hand, just in case she decided to storm the balustrade.

“Is that what made you determined to remain a bachelor? You
are,
aren’t you? You don’t look tamed at all.” In fact he looked as
untamed
as a high coasting eagle.

“I’m comfortable with it,” he told her smoothly. “If I didn’t want children, I don’t think I’d get married at all.”

“Same with me. But don’t you get lonely, way out there in the Never Never?”

“Don’t have time to be lonely,” he said.

“I spotted you right off for a hard-working man. Listen, I’m going to take a peek. No one would hear me if I yelled something impolite, with that bloody organ.” She stood up and immediately he joined her.

“Promise you’ll be good?”

“When
haven’t
I been good?” she muttered bitterly.

“Just make sure you don’t throw your hat.”

“Would you blame me?”

“I prefer you keep it. I love it.”

He gave her another one of his smiles. It had the most peculiar effect on her knees. And his teeth were
perfect.
Beautifully straight and white.

“Keep your chin up, Amber. I may call you Amber? You can’t really love a man who crawled out from under a rock.”

The bride wore white duchesse satin decorated with crystals, silver beads and thousands of seed pearls, hand-applied. The waist appeared narrow, so she had to be wearing a boned waist-cincher, which made her bosom flare out of the tight-fitting bodice. Her sheer organza veil, complete with long train, was held off her face by a diamond tiara that Amber considered pretentious. The wedding guests didn’t. They responded with a spontaneous burst of applause that seemed to go on over-long, even for a billionaire’s granddaughter. The bridesmaids—there were four—all taller and slimmer than the bride, wore strapless chiffon gowns in pastel colours with tiny flowers twisted into their faintly messy height-of-fashion hairdos. To add to the spectacle, there was an angelic little flower girl with golden curls carrying a basket brimming with rose petals that she was scattering about the aisle with joyful abandon. The women guests wearing high heels would have
to be very careful when the time came for them to step back into the aisle or come a cropper.

“Where did she get the tiara?” Amber whispered. “Borrow it from the Queen?”

“The Queen doesn’t give tiaras away, except to her own. Look, why don’t you go and sit down? There’s nothing here for you but heartache.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

T
HERE
was a proud smile on Sean’s face. He looked
happy
! Amber had a terrible image of him, cavorting naked on his wedding night, a glass of Bollinger in hand. Sean loved Bollinger. He also loved getting rid of his clothes. Amber forced herself not to make a sound, yet the Cattle Baron took her hand, his grip tight and reassuring. She rather liked the feel of those calluses. What might they be like on a woman’s body? In a mystifying way, just having him there was like being wrapped in a security blanket.

Once during the ceremony she felt faint and he put his arm around her. He smelled
wonderful
! And he was being so kind when he didn’t look particularly kind. He was a perfect stranger, yet somehow they had made a connection. Either that or he had reasoned that this was the best way to keep her quiet. She couldn’t lose sight of the fact that his loyalty lay with his family. Still, he
was
being genuinely kind. Some things you couldn’t fake.

How long was it going to go on? Quite a while more with the Bishop in the spotlight. A handsome man, he traded on the fact that he looked a bit like Prince Philip. She couldn’t have borne a long Nuptial Mass. At least the soprano sang in tune, her high notes soaring above the hellish din of the organ. The
organist kept moving about on the stool. Why? Had white ants taken up residence in it? What should the soprano break into, of all things, but that old war horse “O Promise Me?”

It was the blackest of black jokes.

When had Sean first started having sex with his little bride? Amber’s mind was seized by that thought. When had he first realised the Erskine heiress was his for the taking? Not that Sean was all that terrific in bed, she found herself suddenly considering, though he had considered himself a real stud. She, on the other hand, had got around to thinking that great sex didn’t have to mean everything. Well, not absolutely everything. Sean had been such fun—good company, charming, good-humoured, though he did tend to laugh a lot at his own jokes. Then he’d messed up by being miserably unfaithful. There had been a time when she had actually considered letting him move in with her. At least she had been spared that.

When the time came for him to make his vows he spoke in a calm, strong voice that resonated around the church. A born actor. The bride’s responses were as soft and gentle as the cooing of doves. Totally dispirited, Amber slumped back against the Cattle Baron. He’d been great. Pity their paths would never, never cross again. The two of them were pressed together like co-conspirators or maybe, to the casual observer, lovers. She just bet if
this
guy committed to a woman he would never betray her.

The moment arrived. The Bishop began to ask that crucial question of the congregation. Surely none had the expectation of hearing a voice yell Stop! Amber felt her heart swell with anger. She had done the best she could all these past weeks. She had behaved impeccably, even when mikes had been thrust under her nose and cameras had gone off in her face, recording her instinctive flinch. She had even gone so far as to wish the couple well. But now? Didn’t despicable behaviour count against anyone any more? Had they rewritten all the
rules of common decency? It wasn’t that long ago that she could have sued him for breach of promise. Surely some degree of payback was in order? Sean was lucky she was an upright citizen and not some member of a notorious crime family who boasted about giving people who offended them “cement shoes”.

Cal, who had supported the goddess all this time—no hardship whatever—felt the moment of crisis when the adrenalin started to pump through her blood. Her willowy body stirred from near swooning into action. Ms Amber Wyatt was about to cause an upheaval. The question was, what did she intend to do? Her fiery expression indicated something spectacular. Something
hugely
embarrassing for all concerned and shockingly inadvisable for her. She could finish up waiting tables.

Sinclair and Georgie were as good as married. Nothing could stop that, but at least he could prevent Ms Wyatt from doing something she would live to regret.

“Come here.” He pulled her urgently to him.

Completely off balance, Amber found herself doing exactly what she was told. He was that kind of man. She couldn’t push him away. He was much too strong. She didn’t even know if she
wanted
to. This was the most extraordinary pseudo-embrace she had experienced in her life.

He literally crushed her to him.

God, a
real
man! She had a crazy notion of being ravished. Quite possibly she’d let him. If not now, at the first opportunity. Even as her mind spun out of control, he propelled her back across the loft, then, before she could recover, lowered his head and kissed her in a way that she knew with absolute certainty would leave a lasting memory. She even regressed to her teens…all those fabulous bodice-rippers she had devoured.

Her body felt sparkly all over, trembling under the influence of a battery of energising electric shocks. The pressure
of that firm mouth coming down over hers, the sheer heart stopping eroticism, had her opening her soft lips like a rose opened up its petals to be drenched by the sun. The pleasure was tremendous.

Should she be craving such pleasure
now
? It was bizarre! It made a mockery of her engagement to Sean. This man’s tongue was locating erogenous zones inside her mouth that had her seizing his lapels. What in the world had taken possession of her? Maybe she was getting the pain and humiliation out of her system? More likely it was the sheer
power
of this man, the way he handled himself. Even as she clutched him, he moved her closer in.

She was receiving the full impact of his superb male body. A natural scent came off his skin—warm fine leather, sunshine, the great outdoors, just the right touch of aftershave. Both of them were behaving like lovers in the white-hot grip of passion. She had no history of such extravagant behaviour.

Did
he
?

One didn’t associate this unbridled behaviour with perfect strangers. It had to be something else. Both of them were playing a role. That was it! Playing it to the hilt! Either that or she had morphed into an entirely different person. Only as recent as five minutes ago, she had thought herself desperately unhappy. Now, heat was spreading through her body, into her stomach, plunging lower…

Oh, Amber, Amber, have a care!

Could shock and unhappiness derange a woman’s body as well as her brain? Did being jilted loosen a girl’s morals? Or was this a temporary state of dementia?

Whatever it was, the incandescent
glow
behind her eyes remained even when she was able to lift her heavy lids. She had never felt such sexual excitement with Sean. Now this tumultuous reaction with a
kiss
! Had it something to do with the dominant male? Had Sean been a subordinate male? She
would have to give that a lot of thought. But it would have to be later on, when she was safely on her own.

“Well, it didn’t take us long to make friends,” he remarked with breathtaking coolness.

The tricky part was to find her voice. “Is that what it was? I thought it was more a spur of the moment bid to shut me up.”

“And there’s no doubt it worked! Further, Ms Wyatt, it was an absolute pleasure.”

“You could have shown a bit more restraint.” She put a trembling hand to her mussed hair.

“Don’t be picky.
You
were going for broke. Anyway, don’t let’s worry about it. Look, your beautiful hat has floated off.” It was now wedged in a cool dark corner, the petals of the pink and cream silk roses softly gleaming. He moved in what seemed like slow motion to pick it up, brushing off a speck of dust before restoring it to her. Amber, never short of a word, couldn’t even utter
thank you
. Her heart was pounding hard and fast. Her legs were weak. Had there been a smoke alarm in the loft, she was sure it would have gone off. What did it all mean?

Cal found himself stretching out a hand to smooth her glowing hair. It was in disarray and such an indescribable shade! Tone on tone, from golden through to dark copper with glossy strands of apricot and Titian woven through. She wore it pulled back into a lustrous updated chignon—appropriate, he supposed, when wearing a picture hat like that.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, when he clearly wasn’t. “But it seemed like a good idea at the time. I
had
to stop you. Whatever you had in mind, you would only have regretted later.”

“Is that an apology?”

“Could be.” His laugh was slightly off-key. “Maybe we can discuss it more fully over dinner?”

She drew back, astonished. “Wh-a-a-t?”

“Not a trick question. Let me break it down. Are—you—free—for—dinner?”

“Are you serious?” Her beautiful golden eyes grew huge.

“Of course I am.” He smiled at her confusion. “We can relax now. It’s all over.”

“So it is.” Amber exhaled a deep sigh. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, I’m up for anything,” he mocked. “We could continue kissing until you can’t remember you ever had a fiancé?”

“Who is now married to your cousin. Thank you, but no, Mr MacFarlane. I don’t think you could top the first kiss anyway.”

“Well, I’d like to give it a shot,” he returned smoothly. “You’re not
still
looking for a husband, are you?”

She met the sparkling ironic gaze that was fairly centred on her. “I could very well remain married to a career. I may have climbed the ladder in television, but actually I want to be a writer. You know, another Colleen McCullough.
Love
her.”

“Another
Thorn Birds
?”

“I wish! But I
can
write.”

“You might have to make a start after today,” he suggested dryly. He may have prevented Ms Wyatt from causing further disturbance and bringing down the full force of Rosemary’s wrath on her beautiful head, but a lot of people had marked her imprudent attendance. Cal had a hollow feeling that there could be unpleasant repercussions for Ms Amber Wyatt. They were a vengeful lot, the Erskines.

“Is that a warning?”

“I’m putting you on your guard.” He looked serious.

“I see. Your dear aunt was giving me the evil eye.”

“Aunt by marriage,” he corrected.

“Well, she does lack your style. I take it one wouldn’t want to cross her.”

“Believe me, when Rosemary is crossed, heads roll.”

“That’s the downside of having too much money,” Amber murmured caustically. “I can’t imagine her getting the better of you.”

“Well, I do have the advantage of living well over a thousand miles away. But don’t worry, Ms Wyatt, I’m going to put in a good word for you.”

“
Why
, exactly?” She stared up at him. It was, she found, a very pleasant sensation. He made her feel almost petite.

“I was engaged once,” he remarked, offhandedly. “I didn’t exactly catch my fiancée in the arms of her stop-gap lover, but a good friend of mine happened to bump into them when they were taking a little holiday together in Bangkok. That’s classified information, by the way.”

“My lips are sealed.” Amber made a little sealing gesture with her pearl-tipped fingers, astonished by his admission. “How could she possibly have preferred the other guy to
you
?”

His laugh was off-key. “Thanks for that little vote of confidence, Ms Wyatt. You would have to understand my ex-fiancée. Sexual encounters on the side she didn’t regard as
meaningful
.”

“But it was the end of the engagement for you?”

“Most definitely, though she tells it differently. That, again, is between the two of us, okay?”

She nodded. “Mr MacFarlane, I am to be trusted. Besides, I owe you one. So what now?”

He looked down into the fast emptying church. “You stay here until the church clears. I have to join the family—stick around until the happy couple embark on their wedded bliss.”

“They’ve already done that,” Amber said tartly. “Don’t be surprised if Sean takes it into his head to run off with one of the bridesmaids.” She settled her lovely picture hat back on her head, looking at him to check the angle. “Have I got it right?”

“Perfect! No woman could look more ravishing. Now, you can follow when the coast is clear. Everyone will be focused on getting to the reception. You should be able to make your escape.”

“I didn’t come here to make a spectacle of myself, you know.” Suddenly she wanted to explain herself to him. She
didn’t want him to think badly of her. “Or disrupt the service, as you seemed to think. Sean really deserved it, but that wasn’t my intention. That would have been cruel and I’m not a cruel person. The plan was to calmly walk out when the Bishop called for any objections—you know the bit—but I just felt so
angry
I momentarily lost control.”

“You’re free of him now.”

“So I am.” She couldn’t conceal the bitterness and the pain.

“So what about dinner?” He repeated the invitation bracingly, as if dinner would be a form of therapy. “Are you up for it? I think it might do you a lot of good to be seen out on the town enjoying yourself. Or making a good show of it.”

She felt a moment of turmoil, not knowing if it was a good or a bad thing. Was it possible she was getting into very deep water? Being with Sean, it had only come up to her ankles, she now realised. “Why are you being so kind?”

“I’m not being kind. Not at all.” He cast a quick look at the near-empty pews. “I just don’t feel ready to say goodbye to you, Ms Wyatt. That’s all. I fly home in a few days.”

“In your own little Airbus?” She lifted her high arching brows. “It’s so nice to be rich.”