Convenient Brides (38 page)

‘I love Brisbane too,’ she said ruefully. ‘It’s just that I had great plans to backpack my way around the world before I reached thirty.’

‘You may find that the delay only means you’ll be able to do it in more comfort.’

‘I may need to find myself a rich husband,’ she said thoughtlessly.

He raised an eyebrow but said, ‘You’re looking very chic, Ms Madigan.’

Ellie glanced down at her outfit, a white, summery, sleeveless tunic top over a three-quarter-length gathered cinnamon skirt and matching sandals. She always liked the swirl of the skirt around her legs and she had a lovely straw hat with a wide brim on. ‘Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.’

She said it lightly, as a throwaway line, but it was all too true. With a breeze ruffling his dark hair and wearing a blue and white striped shirt, open at the throat, with his moleskins, he was extremely good-looking.

‘Thank you!’ He took her hand as the river cat docked. ‘After you, ma’am.’

They sat on the restaurant’s terrace beneath an umbrella overlooking the river and she refused a glass of wine in
favour of a long, cool soft drink and ordered butterfly prawns. He ordered a beer and grilled schnapper.

‘Not inclined to have some hair of the dog, Ellie?’

‘No.’ She looked rueful. ‘I’m feeling fine now but I don’t drink during the day because I need my wits about me, I guess. Not that Simon’s here at the moment.’

He smiled. ‘Is he such a handful—Simon?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘No more than any active ten-year-old boy, I suspect. He’s actually pretty good.’

‘You and he seem to have a great relationship.’

‘Even though I may have missed out on backpacking my way around the world, I think it’s helpful to be young enough to relate to your kids or—’ she looked impish ‘—perhaps there’ll always be a bit of kid in me.’

‘You certainly don’t look like the mother of ten-year-old.’

Ellie studied him through her lashes, then she said abruptly, ‘You’re still doing it, Brett, trying to massage my ego. But I can fight my own battles.’

He subjected her attractive outfit and immaculate grooming to another brief inspection.

‘All right!’ she said frustratedly, then had to laugh. ‘I guess Chantal has put me on my mettle, such as it is. But the only person I’m concerned about feeling good about me
is
me, not
you
about me, if that makes sense.’

‘Perfect sense,’ he murmured, with a wicked glint of humour in his eyes. ‘But before Chantal hit us, it had already occurred to me that there was almost a new you, Ellie, from the girl of Tom’s time and even the last time we met. A much more vibrant, confident person. Being thirty becomes you, Elvira Madigan.’

It was so long since anyone had called her that, Ellie almost did a double take. By the time she’d realized she’d been named after a Danish tightrope walker who’d
had an affair with a Swedish army officer with tragic consequences, she’d changed her name in her mind to Ellie, and had used it ever since.

Now she said, ‘Don’t remind me.’

He looked amused. ‘I always thought it was rather attractive. But to get back to the you of now, I’m impressed, Ellie, and full of admiration for how you’ve coped with life. I know it can’t have been easy.’

She stared into his eyes, then looked away with a slight shiver. ‘You do what you have to, I guess, that’s all. But it hasn’t all been doom and gloom. I can’t imag-ine life without Simon now, he brings me so much joy.’ She smiled and sniffed.

‘I’m glad,’ he said simply.

Ellie frowned suddenly. ‘Is that why you want to stay around us now—apart from Simon, of course? Because I’m a better person?’

‘I didn’t say that. As a matter of fact, the first time you intrigued me and it occurred to me that I’d like to sleep with you was when you were nineteen and the day I found out what your real name was.’

If her synapses had been tested recently they now flashed in collective disbelief.
‘What?’

He lay back in his chair. ‘It’s true. That name and something a little lost, embarrassed and lovely about you definitely prompted the thought.’

Ellie could only stare at him.

‘I guess you’re wondering why I’ve never mentioned it?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Yes. No.’ She put a hand to her mouth. ‘Why
didn’t
you?’

He shrugged. ‘First of all there was Tom. Then you were grieving for Tom and pregnant. And by the time
Simon was born I knew I’d be away for long periods and I doubted you’d got over Tom anyway.’

‘So, what you’re saying…’ her voice was shaky ‘…is this. You’d thought about sleeping with me as opposed to falling in love with me? Just as it crossed your mind that Chantal was desirable but you could take it or leave it?’

‘I’m saying the time hasn’t been right to mention it, that’s all,’ he replied evenly. ‘It’s right now for more reasons than one. So that you know it isn’t something that’s jumped up out of the blue for me and—eleven years ago there was no Chantal or a stint in the Congo I was trying to readjust from.’

Ellie could only stare at him with her lips parted.

He smiled rather satanically and recommended that she eat her lunch before it got cold.

She blushed, and did as she was told. In fact she ate every morsel of her lunch in silence as a delaying tactic while she grappled with this revelation and how to handle it. But her thoughts were jumping like fleas, with a definite tendency to jump backwards rather than for-wards.

She’d been so sure she’d never appealed to Brett in any way. But suddenly, and clear as a bell, she remembered the day Tom had let slip her real name to Brett Spencer.

She’d experienced her usual embarrassment—she’d worn her hair long in those days and to cover the embarrassment she’d taken her scrunchie off, combed her fingers through her hair, then gathered it back into the scrunchie. As she’d lowered her arms she’d become aware that Brett’s gaze had still been on her, and for no reason she’d been able to think of she’d felt hot and bothered over more than her father’s explanation that,
once they had a daughter, he and her mother could never seem to get beyond the name Elvira to go with Madigan.

But all she’d been able to put that feeling down to was yet another reason for Brett Spencer to disapprove of her.

Now, though, it all fell into place as she remembered also that he’d said, surprisingly gently, it was a pretty name. And she dipped her last prawn into the tartar sauce and felt her heart soar like a bird…

Moments later it came tumbling down as she rinsed her fingers in the flower-studded bowl. Two or three years perhaps, but
eleven
years was an awfully long time to wait to do anything about the feeling that had come to him.

She picked up her glass and studied the river traffic. There were seagulls wheeling noisily above a trawler as it steamed up stream, and the bow of a trim little blue and white yacht rose and sank gently as it sailed through the trawler’s wake.

Brett finished his fish and put his knife and fork together but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. She couldn’t, yet, work out what she’d be getting herself into if she admitted her true feelings to him. It was all so new, so…it was still pretty flimsy, she thought.

‘I gather I’ve floored you, Ellie.’

She had to look at him at last. ‘Perhaps,’ she conceded. ‘I had no idea.’

Their gazes clashed.

‘Well?’ he said softly.

Ellie felt her forehead bead with sweat as her pulses started to hammer and she had no doubt that at this point in time, at least, Brett was actively thinking of sleeping with her. It was there between them like an invisible conduit, allowing something in his gaze to arouse the
most intimate sensations in her. It was like being ca-ressed mentally and not a whole lot different from the real thing—and this time she had no magazine to hide behind as these powerful sensations raced through her.

She moved restlessly as it became plain she’d aroused some quizzical amusement across the table. ‘Look, I don’t know what to say! I…it…it may be amusing for you, but it’s not for me.’

‘My apologies, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. But…’ he paused and frowned ‘…your reaction seemed to suggest it was out of the question for you to be found at-tractive and desirable.’

‘By you, yes,’ she conceded.

‘Is that because you never thought about me in the same way—discounting recent times?’

She swallowed and frantically tried to organise her thoughts. ‘No,’ she said rather bleakly, at last. ‘But that may only place me in the same category as—’ she ges-tured ‘—the waitress who served us. What I mean to say is it could be an occupational hazard for most women who cross your path. There is a huge distinction between that and…really being in love with someone, however.’

‘It all has to start somewhere, though.’

‘Only a man could say that!’ She eyed him darkly.

He grinned. ‘You’re wrong. It was said to me by a woman very recently as it happens.’

She blinked.

‘Chantal Jones,’ he supplied. ‘Your sister-at-arms.’

A reluctant smile tugged at Ellie’s lips. ‘She’s not really, and, forgive me, but I wouldn’t say you’ve completely cured yourself of her yet, Brett, but—start what?’

He sat back. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that you and I leap straight into bed, Ellie. Merely that we consider the future and the possibilities.’

It was like having cold water dashed over her and there was nothing she could do to hide it.

She said stiffly, ‘I think I’d like to go home now.’

‘This time I’ve offended you.’

She didn’t answer; she switched her gaze to the river, then looked at her watch. ‘I think there’s a ferry due shortly.’

‘Wouldn’t you like some coffee?’

‘No, thank you. And thanks for lunch but I’ve got that kite to finish off so I really ought to get home—’ She stopped abruptly and closed her eyes briefly.

At the same time someone walked up to the table, a svelte, attractive brunette, saying, ‘Brett Spencer—is it really you?’

He stood up. ‘Delia Saunders—is it really you?’ And an enthusiastic reunion followed.

‘But I’m no longer Delia Saunders, Brett! I married Archie McKinnon about three years ago, don’t know why I waited so long,’ Delia said humorously. ‘We’re deliriously happy!’

‘Congratulations, I always thought you and Archie were made for each other! Delia, this is Ellie.’

Delia did a speedy reconnaissance and must have liked what she saw because she sat down excitedly. ‘This is so fortuitous,’ she said. ‘It’s our third wedding anniversary next weekend and we’re having a party. Do please come, both of you!’

‘Why not?’ Brett said. ‘Thank you, Delia.’

‘I’m not going,’ Ellie said to the river.

‘Why didn’t you say so at the time?’

Ellie watched the wake of the river cat for a long moment, then tossed him an irony-laden glance. ‘How—
without making a complete fool of myself? It was hard enough to know what to say at all.’

He shrugged. ‘Delia always gives wonderful parties.’

‘That’s not the point. Going out and about as a couple is—a complication we don’t need, surely?’

‘Why?’

‘Brett, you’re being obtuse—or something,’ she accused.

He grinned wickedly. ‘It would be a good way of getting to know another facet of each other, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I’m not sure that’s what we should be doing or will be doing. I’m not sure at all,’ she said a little bleakly.

‘Well, think about it,’ he suggested. ‘In the meantime do you mind if I drop you off at home? I need to do a few things in town.’

Think about it,
Ellie repeated in her mind as she let herself into the quiet house.

And was surprised to discover she felt like screaming again and shouting with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. What, precisely, did he have in mind? An affair? True, there’d been that moment when things had got electric between them. But despite his protestations of innocence he must have created some electricity for Chantal—quite possibly he was able to turn it on and off like a tap!

But how much of the real Brett Spencer did she know? Enough to make an informed decision on the subject of taking the quantum leap into his bed?

‘There’s something here that doesn’t gel,’ she said to herself, and with a sigh got to work on her kite.

S
IMON
came home late on Sunday afternoon looking tanned and fit and glowing with enthusiasm. Causing Ellie to say with a trace of irony, after she’d welcomed him with open arms, that for such an avowed
away-fromnature
freak his enthusiasm for camping was a little surprising.

‘It’s all in the company, Mum! We had a ball, mid-night feasts, we played poker and I got to abseil down a cliff!’

She raised her eyebrows.

‘Just as well you weren’t there,’ he said with a cheeky grin. ‘You’d have been having kittens.’

Ellie upended his bag on the kitchen floor to find every piece of clothing mud-stained and damp. ‘Glory be,’ she murmured. ‘Did it rain a lot up there?’

‘Nope, not a drop!’

‘So?’ She picked up a T-shirt gingerly.

‘There was this fantastic waterhole. We used to pretend we were hippos and sing that song.’

“‘Mud, mud, glorious mud?”’

‘Yep.’ Simon dissolved into laughter.

‘You are aware that you’ve probably ruined all these clothes?’

‘No way,’ he said blithely. ‘You’re brilliant at getting out stains!’

‘I just hope your faith in her isn’t misplaced,’ Brett said, coming into the kitchen and eyeing the mound of clothes ruefully. ‘But it’s good to have you back, mate.’

‘Just between you and me, it’s good to be back,’ Simon said and cocked an eye in Ellie’s direction. ‘She been handling things OK?’

‘Simon,’ Ellie said severely.

‘She had a couple of lonely days,’ Brett answered, ‘but I kept an eye on her and I took her out to lunch yesterday.’

Ellie put her hands on her hips. ‘Would you two stop discussing me as if I wasn’t right here in this kitchen—or only about ten myself?’

Simon came over to her and put his arms around her waist. ‘Remember when you used to read me Winnie the Pooh years ago? And James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree who took great care of his mother although he was only three? I wouldn’t have gone on this camp if I hadn’t thought I was leaving you in good hands—you’ve got to take care of the people you love!’ He hugged her.

For some reason as Ellie’s eyes met Brett’s over the top of Simon’s head she disturbed a narrowed thoughtful look in his. Then the moment broke, Simon moved away from her and announced that he was starving.

‘Some things never change,’ she said wryly. ‘Well—’

‘Let’s have a barbecue,’ Brett suggested. ‘Why don’t you sit outside and leave it all to us, Ellie? I reckon you deserve a break.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind—’

‘Do as you’re told, Mum,’ Simon said firmly.

‘Talk about having not one but two bossy males in the house,’ she marvelled, and looked around her kitchen a little apprehensively.

‘We’ll also clean up,’ Brett murmured, interpreting her look accurately. ‘Off you go. I’ll bring you a drink.’

To their credit, while they kept it simple, it wasn’t a bad barbecue the two men in her life presented.

Brett lit the fire and grilled sausages, steak and onions, at the same time instructing Simon in the finer arts of barbecuing. And between them they concocted new po-tatoes in their jackets brushed with melted garlic butter and sprinkled with chopped parsley; and sliced tomato drizzled with dressing and topped with basil.

‘I’m impressed,’ she said. ‘I may be able to hand the kitchen over to you two completely!’

Simon and Brett exchanged identical glances—expressions of extreme reluctance that made her laugh softly. ‘Don’t worry, only teasing. Thanks, guys!’ She raised her glass to them. ‘You’ve done good.’

They ate leisurely, enjoying the evening and the aroma of wood smoke lingering on the air although there were distant flashes of lightning on the horizon.

Then out of the blue Simon said, ‘What school did my dad go to, Mum?’

For a moment Ellie was floored and it was Brett who answered. He named a famous private school and added that it was his old school too.

‘Gosh! My best friend, Martie Webster’s dad went there, and Martie’s going when he gets to high school. Will I be able to, Mum?’

Ellie hesitated. ‘I don’t think so, Simon. It’s the kind of school you probably need to have your name put down for when you’re born. But…’ she paused as his face fell ‘…you must have other friends who are going to the local high school?’

He shrugged. ‘I guess so. I just thought it would be nice to go to my dad’s old school. And it would be nice to know a bit more about him.’

‘You look a lot like him, Simon,’ Brett said easily.
‘And did you know he lived in this house? He lost his mother and father when he was thirteen so he came to us.’

Simon looked around interestedly. ‘Could you tell me about that?’

‘Sure.’ Brett stood up. ‘Let’s do the dishes at the same time. And I guess your mum would like a cup of coffee.’

They left Ellie on the terrace—prey to some conflicting emotions. An ache in her heart because the time had finally come for Simon to think about his father. She’d tried to prepare herself as well as she could for the in-evitable questions and had fallen at the first fence—not even remembering what school Tom had been to. But the most conflicting emotion was—how much more hero worship would Brett Spencer earn as the one person Simon could talk to about Tom?

Coffee came but Simon decided to take himself to bed.

He shook his head as he yawned mightily and said quaintly, ‘It’s all that fresh air! Night, Mum.’ He kissed her and took himself off.

Brett sat down.

‘What…what did you tell him?’ Ellie asked.

‘How good Tom used to be at cricket, how he’d always been fascinated by building bridges and roads, how he was the only person I ever knew who could imitate a fish perfectly—that kind of thing.’

‘And polo? I’ve only ever told him it was a riding accident.’

Brett seemed to go quite still for a moment. Then he said, barely audibly, ‘No. I didn’t mention polo. About his schooling, Ellie?’

She sighed and thought for a bit. Tom’s old school had an excellent academic as well as sporting record,
not to mention conferring considerable status in the old-school-tie stakes. ‘There’s no way I could afford it even if I could get him in.’

‘I could.’

It was Ellie’s turn to go still. Then she said awk-wardly, ‘I know you could afford it but what about the waiting list? I’m sure there is one.’

He stared at her for a long moment. ‘There is, but there are also places for old boys’ sons.’

‘That might have helped if Tom and I had been married but we weren’t,’ she said, ‘so I don’t suppose it applies. And I couldn’t accept any more financial help from you, Brett.’

‘I was talking about—as my son.’

Ellie blinked rapidly. ‘You mean…?’

‘If we got married, Ellie, I could get Simon into the school his father went to and his best friend is going to, but those aren’t the only reasons—it’s a damn good school and he has so much potential, he deserves it.’

‘Brett,’ she whispered, ‘I can’t believe this!’

‘Why not?’ he asked impatiently.

‘Is there…’ she hesitated and made herself think as clearly as she could ‘…is there something that’s made you decide you need a wife? And since I’m—virtually—in place, so to speak, I might as well be it?’

‘No. I wouldn’t put it like that.’ He paused and nar-rowed his eyes. ‘But we are “in place”. We’re virtually living a phantom marriage right now. And the reason we got here was because we both have the same person’s interests very much at heart. That has never changed. Only it’s got more critical now, and up until now I’ve had the easy part.’ He paused again. ‘I also have Simon’s blessing.’

‘How?’

‘He saw us that night.’

‘I know but…’ She was lost for words.

‘He came to me the next morning very much man-to-man and explained how it had happened. He also gave me to understand I had his blessing, and he gave me some advice.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ But it was more out of sheer frus-tration that she said it—she could quite believe it of Simon.

‘When did he tell you?’ Brett enquired.

‘The morning he rang from camp. Advice?’ she repeated with deep misgiving. ‘What
kind
of advice?’

‘He explained that in his opinion you were a very cautious person, you didn’t take easily to new ideas and it was all in the handling.’

Ellie all but choked.

‘He is your son,’ Brett commented wryly.

‘I just hope you…didn’t get his hopes up, Brett Spencer!’

He watched her for a moment. ‘I’ve discovered that with Simon there are times when you don’t need to say much. So I was essentially noncommittal. Although I think I gave him to understand that he needn’t play an active role in any negotiations between you and I.’

‘Brett, has it occurred to you that you seem to spend a lot of time giving people advice they don’t take?’

He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Well, there’s Chantal Jones, still more than convinced you’re the right man for her, and Simon—’ She broke off and bit her lip.

‘He gave you some advice despite my advice?’ Brett suggested wryly. ‘Even his blessing perhaps?’

Ellie was silent, in itself a dead give away.

‘There you go, then,’ Brett said. ‘As for the romantic
side of things, that’s also “in place”, wouldn’t you say?’ There was more than a tinge of irony in his grey eyes.

She shivered suddenly. ‘Romance is one thing, love is another and that’s what I need. It’s been too long and hard a road to…compromise.’

‘Love can come and go,’ he said evenly. ‘It could even be the most misunderstood emotion of all. But what might make it prosper is a common goal such as providing a child with a stable family life.’

She flinched this time.

He saw it and added, ‘As a matter of fact I not only have Simon’s best interests at heart, but yours as well. Can you honestly tell me, Ellie, that a stable married life to me wouldn’t be a better bet than a succession of—artists, musicians and back-to-nature freaks?’

She was silent, feeling hurt and foolish, and, because of it, on the defensive but what came next wiped the floor with her pride.

‘Can you honestly say—’ he sat forward ‘—that cer-tain emotions the long, hard road froze are not cla-mouring for expression now? Eleven years is a long time to clamp down on wanting to…live and love.’

She closed her eyes.

‘In that sense,’ he went on quietly, ‘I am a much better bet than the choices you’ve made up to now.’

He saw it in her eyes as her lashes fluttered up, as if a shutter had come down, and knew he’d gone too far and hurt her pride. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. In fact it was worse. He didn’t care that he couldn’t help himself. Why? Because he’d never before acknowledged to himself how hard he’d had to clamp down on the interest she’d aroused in him all those years ago? The interest that had caused him to wonder about his best
friend’s girl in ways that he shouldn’t have. That interest and curiosity about her essence as a woman…

Had it then become habit, he wondered, that clamping down? Helped along by a streak of guilt because he’d thought of her the way he had while she’d been Tom’s girl? Although one thing had never changed. He had always been determined to do as much for Tom King’s son as he could.

She drained her coffee and stood up. ‘On the other hand, I think Chantal is a much better bet for you, Brett.’

‘Ellie.’ His voice was suddenly hard. ‘I have no intention of letting Tom’s son be subjected to your dubious choice in men.’

She gasped as he got up and towered over her looking determined enough to do anything. But she stood her ground and paid the price. He took her in his arms.

‘Brett, this is not what I would have believed of you,’ she said stiffly.

A flicker of amusement chased through his eyes. ‘Why not? I’m a man and I’ve been wanting to kiss you for eleven years.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ she contradicted. ‘It may have crossed your mind once or twice eleven years ago, that’s all.’

‘It not only crossed my mind, I did it a few
days
ago.’ His words were barely audible but they came across to her with a comprehensive glance of an intensity that shook her a little. Then he added with another flicker of humour, ‘You may be able to turn these things on and off like a tap; I can’t.’

Ellie’s mouth fell open as his words mirrored what she’d mentally accused him of in relation to Chantal.

‘That’s struck a chord?’ he said slowly.

She closed her mouth with a click.

‘As in suspecting…me of it?’ he hazarded.

She went crimson and he started to laugh softly. ‘Well, well, Ms Madigan,’ he drawled, ‘my reputation if nothing else is at stake here. I think I need to prove you wrong!’

‘Reputation—or ego?’

‘Could be both,’ he said blandly. ‘There’s only one way to find out—’ He stopped as a flash of lightning right above them lit the night, then a crack of thunder followed.

Ellie shivered and clutched at him.

‘Scared,’ he said softly and folded her closer.

‘Mmm…’ She flinched at another flash of lightning. ‘Brett, let’s get inside!’

‘OK.’ He picked her up as if she were a feather and carried her into the lounge as the first raindrops fell like bullets. ‘Would you like to check on Simon?’ he suggested as he put her on her feet.

‘Yes! Although he doesn’t mind storms.’

‘I’ll do it, you sit down.’

She sank onto the settee and waited until he came back.

‘He’s fine,’ he said a few minutes later, sitting down beside her. ‘He’s out like a light. Does he always take
Guinness World Records
to bed?’ And he took her in his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She smiled. ‘Always. It’s his great ambition to be in it one day, he just hasn’t decided what for.’ And, as if the cork on the bottle of her emotions had suddenly popped, there were tears in her eyes although she was still smiling. She dashed at them impatiently. ‘Sorry, don’t know what’s got into me.’

‘Oh, Ellie,’ he said on a breath, and started to kiss her.

When he stopped, she was feeling far from tearful. Warm, cherished, drowsy and completely relaxed. And completely at home. In fact she fell asleep in his arms.