Rose's Vintage (28 page)

The weather looked set to be fine, so later that afternoon Astrid and Rose pulled out several trestle tables that they'd found at the back of the winery, lining them up under the she-oak and covering them with checked tablecloths. Leo and Luisa raced about trying to keep Barnsie under control as the hyped-up puppy snapped at balloons that festooned the cellar door and hung from the tree. Jake had helped them drag over an old tin bath so that it now sat outside the cellar door, and Bevan had promised to bring over several bags of ice to add to it for a makeshift drinks cooler.

They were just finishing setting up, as a flock of what Rose now knew to be galahs wheeled overhead, their rose-pink underbellies catching the fading light. The valley glowed in the setting sun. She was beginning to wonder what time Mark and Dan would be back from the airport, when she saw a telltale plume of dust in the distance. That must be them, she thought, and, suddenly feeling shy, raced off to clean herself up and find something more feminine than the faded t-shirt, dusty cut-off shorts and work boots she was wearing.

As she wound her long dark hair into a sleek twist and secured it with a silver butterfly pin that had been a gift from Henry, the knowledge that she should have read his email worried away at her. She was completely torn between her loyalty to him and her fondness – actually it was more than fondness – for Mark and everything at Kalkari. She reasoned that the news of the winery's success had probably already made its way to London. Winning the Jimmy Watson was a big deal, she now realised. She wasn't sure what it might mean for Henry's plans, and she found herself hoping that the winery might no longer be of interest to him, though she figured that chances were it would probably make it even more appealing. She also wasn't sure what the Jimmy Watson win might mean for her, for her place here, and for her fragile relationship with Mark, if a few brief but brilliant kisses and a bit of fooling around in the vines were anything to pin your hopes on.

She'd lied to Jake when she'd said she thought Mark was too old for her. He was older, that much was true, but she felt so in tune with him, whether they were out running together through the valley or chatting quietly in the barn. Hell, even on that silent drive back from Sydney after the dinner she'd loved just being near him.

She pushed thoughts of her brother out of her head and concentrated instead on the much more appealing prospect of seeing Mark again soon. He'd only been away a couple of days, but she'd missed him like crazy. Applying a slick of gloss to her already rosy lips, she looked at her reflection. She saw clear eyes and sun-bronzed skin, cheekbones that had been previously hidden under a layer of chub, as well as a glow that came from the hours spent outdoors and the daily exercise she was now getting. She looked so much happier too, she thought, briefly remembering the days in London when she looked and felt permanently exhausted. A world and a lifetime ago. What a shame she was planning on partying hard tonight and writing off some of that healthy living, she thought mischievously, clicking the lid back on the lipgloss and striding over to the cellar door.

CHAPTER 28

E
veryone had made a huge effort. The tables nearly bowed under the weight of three enormous glass bowls of salad, and there was a pretty array of fruity and creamy desserts covered with muslin cloths. ‘Keeps the flies off,' explained Mrs B, who'd come over early to help out. A trail of cars snaked up the long drive, unloading passengers hoisting slabs of beer on their shoulders, or carrying clutches of bottles or trays of food in their hands.

Deano and Mick had ditched the polar fleece for once and were looking unusually smart in pressed cotton shirts and moleskin trousers. Hell, it looked like they'd even shined their R.M. Williams boots for the occasion. Rose was impressed. They were standing with Dan, hanging on his words as he described the previous night's events, waving his hands around with the excitement of it all. Even Dan had tamed his normally wild beard and was wearing a collared shirt. Wonders would never cease.

She almost didn't recognise Angie, who was standing near them, wearing a flouncy floral frock instead of her usual sweatshirt and jeans, though when Rose looked down she saw she was wearing the same boots as the boys, but topped by vivid pink socks.

Angie was chatting to Jake, whose hair gleamed from a recent wash. He was turning the full force of his charm on her, and Angie didn't look at all displeased to be the object of his attention.

Bevan had already fired up the barbie and was grilling meat with practised skill, a pair of tongs dangling from one hand and a beer grasped in the other.

‘Anything I can do?' she asked, looking around for a sign of Mark.

‘No sweat, sweetheart, it's all under control. Go and grab a drink and enjoy yourself,' he replied.

Rose remembered that she'd bought some paper napkins earlier that day and went into the house to collect them from the kitchen. As she was walking through the hall, she saw Mark's boots and long legs making their way down the stairs.

‘Rose? Is that you?' his voice boomed in the hallway.

‘Here, Mark.'

‘Wow, you're a sight for sore eyes,' said Mark as he reached her. ‘Love the outfit. Very nice.'

Rose looked down at her shiny silver dress. ‘Thanks. Astrid lent it to me. It's not too short, is it?'

Mark rested one hand on his chin and pretended to give the question serious thought. ‘I'm not sure. Let me just check.'

As he walked behind her she couldn't suppress a bubble of laughter that welled up inside her. ‘Yeah, right, I guess it isn't. Congratulations again, by the way. You must be dead chuffed.'

‘Yup. It's huge. I still don't think it's sunk in yet,' he said, ‘though we certainly celebrated last night, and by the looks of things we'll be repeating that again tonight. Thanks for pulling this all together, by the way; you're amazing.'

Rose was thrilled at the unexpected compliment. ‘Oh, it was nothing really. We all helped, and once the word was out the whole district wanted to come and congratulate you. Not to mention that everyone around here seems to love an excuse to have a party,' she said.

‘That they do.'

Their eyes met. Rose's throat was suddenly parched and she struggled to swallow. Mark reached out to her, tucking a stray tendril of hair back into the butterfly clip and letting his hand linger on the nape of her neck. A jolt of electricity ran through her at his touch, turning her stomach to liquid and her knees weak with lust. She was absolutely certain what she wanted now. She just had to be brave, or foolish, enough to go through with it.

He must have read her mind.

Wordlessly, he pulled her to him, pressing her lips to his and kissing her like she was the sweetest nectar, neither of them caring that he was smearing her lipgloss or that her hair had come loose from the clip. She needed no further encouragement to wind her arms around him, pressing herself to him, hips meeting hips, her breasts crushed against his chest. Once again, they lit a fire inside each other. ‘Oh Rose,' he murmured in her ear. ‘To hell with being sensible. You have no idea …' His voice trailed off as he resumed kissing her.

Rose felt rather than heard the hammering of both their hearts, and sank into the heat he was giving off through his thin shirt. If he hadn't been holding her up, her legs would most likely have given way beneath her. She wasn't used to compliments, and his extravagant whisperings left her breathless, not to mention the exquisite touch of his lips as they traced a trail along her collarbone that left her begging for more. She wanted him, a big bed and no interruptions.

Unfortunately, the universe wasn't listening.

But someone else was.

‘Daaad.'

They leapt away from each other at the sound of Leo's voice. The boy was looking at them from the kitchen doorway.

‘Dad, can we come outside for a bit?' Leo seemed unfazed to have caught his father in a clinch with Rose.

‘Sure thing, mate. How about we go and get this party started, hey?' Mark shot Rose a rueful look and mouthed the word ‘later' to her over Leo's head. Rose smiled back. She'd have to clamp her thighs shut a while longer. A glass of wine might help cool her jets. They headed over to the cellar door, where Jake had managed to rig up an outdoor sound system and had INXS blaring from the speakers at full volume.

The night was warm, the stars lit up the vast sky, and the mood was exuberant. Bevan had been right; almost the whole of the valley had turned up. Everyone had brought a plate or dish of something, and Harry the butcher arrived with several more kilos of sausages, so there was more than enough food to go round. As for booze, Rose couldn't believe the amount that was being thrown back.
For winemakers, they sure know how to drink beer
, she thought as she caught sight of the growing pile of empties.

As Mark and Dan walked towards the throng of guests, Rose heard the applause begin. They all but disappeared under a sea of congratulatory back slaps and man hugs. Everyone was genuinely thrilled for them.

‘Reckon we oughta put the price up, hey, boss?' said Dan to Mark as they stood around later that evening.

‘No way. It's a thirty-dollar red and that's the way I hope it's going to stay. I might have an argument on my hands with the distributors, though, but we'll jump off that bridge when we get to it. This puts us on the map. Kalkari. The Shingle Valley. They're up there with the greats now. It's more than I dreamed of. People will be clamouring for our wine. The best restaurants will want it on their lists. The knock-on effect on the other wines should mean we'll be out of the woods as far as money worries are concerned. We can all sleep a little easier at night, and concentrate on what we're good at – making wine, not cosying up to bank managers.'

Rose overheard them talking and couldn't help but be happy. She knew now that the last thing she wanted to do was to betray Mark, no matter what her promises and allegiances to her brother might be. She wanted only the best for him. She also knew, with a sudden realisation, that she wanted to stay, to be a part of it, to be a part of Kalkari and Mark's life. As she watched the party swirl around her she knew with absolute certainty that she belonged here, that this was good and right and true. That this was the best thing that ever happened to her.

Oh shit. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Someone turned the music up and Rose found herself pulled over to dance. She shimmied to the energetic sound, feeling vibrant and free in that instant, not caring about what the future might bring, soaking up the moment in this lush valley, on a warm evening, surrounded by her friends. Jake grabbed her by the hand and twirled her around on the grass in front of the cellar door, making her dizzy, but she still didn't want to stop. She closed her eyes as the world spun before her.

‘Might want to take it a little easy there, Rose.' Mark's voice interrupted her thoughts.

She snapped open her eyes as he gathered her in his arms and steadied her against him. ‘Wheee …' she giggled, aware that the wine she'd knocked back earlier in the evening had gone straight to her head.

‘You, my girl, look like you need to go to bed,' he said quietly in her ear.

‘Oh yes, please!' She grinned cheekily at him.

‘Now, Rose, you know that's not quite what I meant. Though, come to think of it, I wouldn't mind unwrapping that shiny silver disco dress you're wearing. It'd make a fitting coming-home present, don't you think?' It seemed she wasn't the only one whose inhibitions had been washed away by the alcohol. Rose's knees weakened for the second time that evening.

Mark reluctantly released her and steered her over to an empty seat under the tree. ‘But before I do I'd better go and check on the grog. This lot could drink enough to sink the Titanic.'

Hearing Vance Joy's ‘Georgia' blasting through the speakers, Rose stood up again. ‘Don't be such a spoilsport, there's more than enough booze, and you have to dance to this with me.
She …
' Rose began to sing, off-key. In her drunken state the lyrics seemed to make perfect sense. Hell, they made perfect sense drunk or not.

She didn't get any further: she suddenly noticed the expression on Mark's face. It was utterly bleak. ‘Is my singing really that bad?' she asked.

Before he could answer, a tall woman in a skirt slit to mid-thigh, her sheer blouse undone several buttons lower than would normally be considered decent, and her dark hair in a cloud about her face, sashayed up and flung her arms around him. She had the kind of larger-than-life beauty that launched ships and inspired poetry.

‘Hey,
we
were about to dance!' Rose nearly called out. She stopped herself just in time.

With a sickening realisation, she knew who it was. Her heart, which had been floating somewhere above the clouds only a moment before, now plummeted like a pheasant on the Glorious Twelfth.