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The Wedding Bargain
Yvonne Lindsay


A runaway bride finds herself rescued, seduced—and pregnant!—in this tale from USA TODAY bestseller Yvonne LindsayWho would dare object when Shanal Peat is about to say I do in a church full of wedding guests? The bride herself, that’s who. Shanal just can’t go through with the bargain she’s made. She’ll have to save her destitute parents without an arranged marriage.Australian billionaire Raif Masters delights in rescuing the runaway bride from his nemesis. But when hiding out on a riverboat leads to passion—and when passion leads to pregnancy—Raif must prove he’s in it for love, not vengeance.







“Take me away,” Shanal implored.

It was the last thing Raif expected the bride to say in the middle of her wedding ceremony.

“Take me far away, right now.”

“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. A taxi rounded the corner. Raif secured Shanal’s small hand in his and pulled the runaway bride 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. Eyes round as saucers and his mouth hanging open, the cabbie stopped and Raif yanked open the back door and guided Shanal inside.

Shanal sat next to him, pale but finally 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 the groom, his eyes fixed on the retreating cab. Even from this distance Raif felt a prickle of unease. Burton, understandably, did not look happy.

But Raif was getting exactly what he wanted.

* * *

The Wedding Bargain is part of The Master Vintners series: Tangled vines, tangled lives.


The Wedding Bargain

Yvonne Lindsay






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


A typical Piscean, USA TODAY bestselling author YVONNE LINDSAY has always preferred her imagination to the real world. Married to her blind date hero and with two adult children, she spends her days crafting the stories of her heart, and in her spare time she can be found with her nose in a book reliving the power of love, or knitting socks and daydreaming. Contact her via her website: www.yvonnelindsay.com (http://www.yvonnelindsay.com).


I don’t often get the chance to tell my editor how much I appreciate her, but I want to do it here and now. E.M., you are amazing and I feel privileged to work with you.

Thank you for making my work shine.


Contents

Cover (#u0b1d0f9d-648d-59df-954a-0eb3c4aae6e5)

Introduction (#u4806b447-8eb9-552a-b941-47ff176bf804)

Title Page (#u06a87278-116d-5636-8f0f-4e91a7ded238)

About the Author (#u6804e426-9c74-56b5-afee-9e9ecc3b50df)

Dedication (#u1341ff56-0bf6-505a-a8be-6532b7b5b417)

One (#ulink_b32fadb7-db07-543f-9a8c-23f9d60cec59)

Two (#ulink_0aefb8e1-1711-588d-b6ae-35245c5e1fab)

Three (#ulink_3b81da97-75b4-5a93-acf9-9924a826c12a)

Four (#ulink_e3438d7f-de38-5ef3-abb8-f491ebc12730)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_4660986f-da23-50a8-9c74-d466abaa5135)

“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.


Two (#ulink_ef1985be-1e7a-5dbf-a88b-d920ff20110d)

Shanal closed the bathroom door behind her and stripped away her wedding dress. Without caring about any possible damage to the delicate and expensive fabric, she let it drop to the floor. She shuddered. Right now she felt so cold, deep down into her bones.

She quickly tugged on the jeans and sucked her tummy in a little to do up the zipper. Cathleen’s curves were just a bit more subtle than her own and it showed in the cut of jeans that she favored. Too bad, Shanal thought as she slid her arms into the sleeves of the T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. That final thought held a painful irony she didn’t want to think about right now. She had enough on her plate.

There was still an air of unreality about what she’d just done. In fact, she could barely believe she’d done it. Run away from everything—everyone.

Burton would be angry, she knew. Justifiably so? Very likely. They’d had an agreement, and if she’d learned anything about Burton Rogers it was that he couldn’t bear to be thwarted, not to mention being humiliated in front of a cathedral packed with his peers. She certainly wasn’t in any headspace to face that right now.

It wasn’t that she was worried he’d get physical with his rage—no, that would be beneath his dignity—but how did you explain to a man, especially one who on the surface was every woman’s dream, that you no longer wanted to be his bride? All she knew was that she couldn’t go through with it. She needed space—time to think, to form a strategy to overcome this situation she’d put herself into.

Another shudder ran through her and she felt her chest constrict anew. Her breathing became difficult again and she closed her eyes and focused on one breath in, one long breath out. When the tightness began to ease, she reached for the logical side of her brain. The one that had weighed the options of Burton’s offer of marriage so carefully and had accepted it, knowing she didn’t love him. The tension returned twofold. No, she couldn’t even think about it. She felt so close to the breaking point. The two people who now depended upon her most, her mum and her dad, would be beside themselves with worry. For her. For themselves. Her father’s medical expenses aside, in a few months they would be struggling to meet paying their utilities, let alone affording the basics like food.

Her decision to run away from Burton would affect them all.

She’d find a way around it. She had to. The alternative simply wasn’t an option. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all—maybe it was just her panicked mind that was making it seem worse than she thought. Right now, though, she needed distance. Distance and a healthy dose of perspective. Raif had offered her both unquestioningly.

But what was his angle? Was he doing this because he wanted to help her—or just because he wanted to hurt Burton? He’d come to see her at her parents’ home three months ago after her engagement had been announced. He hadn’t wasted time on niceties such as saying congratulations. He’d come straight to the point and said he was there to talk her out of marrying Burton. She’d told him the wedding would go ahead no matter what he had to say, and had very firmly asked him to leave, without hearing him out. She knew there was bad blood between him and Burton; she’d gotten the sense from what Burton had said that it had been some idiotic male rivalry over a woman. Whatever had happened, Raif had clearly carried a grudge, and she’d assumed that was what had motivated him to see her.

A deep and painful throbbing started behind her eyes. It was all too much to think about. Right now she felt as if she could simply crawl under the covers of the bed in the room next door and go to sleep for a week. Instead, she forced herself to move and put on a pair of socks and the shoes Cathleen had left behind.

When Shanal looked up into the mirror, her reflection was that of a stranger. She never usually wore this much makeup—hadn’t really wanted to, even today—but Burton had insisted she allow him to send along a makeup artist during her preparations on the morning of their special day. She’d acquiesced, thinking it didn’t matter, but as each layer of cosmetics had been applied she’d felt as if her true self was being hidden. As if pieces of her were being pushed further and further into obscurity.

Was that what it would be like being married to Burton? His decisions overriding hers and suffocating everything that defined her until her very identity was buried beneath what he wanted? She bent over the bathroom basin and scrubbed her face clean, desperate to grab that part of herself back again.

A knock at the door turned her mind willingly away from questions she couldn’t face and didn’t want to answer.

“You okay?” she heard Raif ask through the door.

No, she was not okay. Not right now. But she had to hope she would be. “You can come in,” she answered.

He did, and she noticed he’d changed into a pair of well-worn jeans that hugged his hips, and a navy sweater. The fisherman’s rib knit clung to his broad shoulders, making him look impossibly strong and masculine. As if he could take on the weight of the world and barely notice the strain. She certainly hoped that was the case, because at this moment she felt even closer to fracturing apart than she had half an hour ago.

“We should hit the road. I’ve loaded up a bag in the Jeep with some things for you. Clothes of mine you can borrow—y’know, track pants, sweaters and a thicker jacket than that one of Cathleen’s. They’ll be far too big for you, but at least you’ll be warm. We can stop somewhere and get you some underwear, toiletries and anything else you think of, on the way through.”

She nodded. It was such a relief to simply hand over her care to him. To have someone else do all the thinking for a change. Shanal followed him out of the room, not even sparing a glance for the mound of tulle that still lay on the bathroom floor.

“I need to call my parents,” she said as they reached the door to the garage. “To let them know I’m okay.”

“Already done,” Raif answered smoothly. “They send their love.”

Did they? Or did they send their recriminations, their fears for the future now that she’d dashed their only hope for a secure retirement? The financial settlement Burton had agreed to pay her on their marriage would never happen now—in fact, she probably wouldn’t even have a job after this.

“Are...are they all right?”

“They’re worried about you, but I assured them you’re being cared for.”

She swallowed a sob and murmured a response, but something in her tone made Raif whip his head around and study her carefully.

“It’ll be okay, Shanal. You did the right thing.”

But had she? Or had she simply destroyed not only her parents’ future, but her own, as well? Raif opened the passenger door of the Jeep for her to climb up before he walked around to the other side.

“Mac is stocking the houseboat with everything you’ll need for a week, at least,” Raif said as he settled in the driver’s seat and hit the remote for the garage door.

“I’ll pay you back, Raif. I promise,” she said brokenly.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he replied. “Why don’t you put your seat back a bit and close your eyes. You look done in. Try and get a little sleep, huh?”

She did as he suggested, but found her mind was too active to sleep. Instead she listened as he called his younger brother, Cade, and arranged for him to collect the car that Raif had left parked near the church. Guilt sliced deep as she considered everything he had done for her so far today. And now he was going out of his way to drive her all the way to Mannum so she could take time out.

For someone she’d never exactly treated well, he seemed to be prepared to go to great lengths for her. Maybe it was just a measure of the man he was, she thought, as she heard him laughingly warn his sibling not to drive the Maserati too fast through the Adelaide hills on the way to his property. A man who, she had to admit to herself, she didn’t know very well at all. When he ended the call he turned on the radio, tuned to a classical-music station. She was surprised, thinking him more likely to be into popular music or rock than anything resembling culture.

But then again, what did she really know about him aside from the fact that he was her best friend’s cousin? Sure, he’d always been there when Ethan had invited her to attend family functions at The Masters. But Raif was three years younger than her and back when she’d met him, that three-year age gap between him at fifteen and her at eighteen going on nineteen had seemed huge. She’d mentally filed him away as a child, and had barely given him a second thought.

She’d recognized he had a crush on her early on, but had ignored it—and him, too, for the most part. He had been easy enough to ignore at first, especially since their paths didn’t cross all that often. When she thought of him even now, she tended to think of the child he had been. Shanal hadn’t really noticed when he’d left childhood behind for good.

Until now.

Until she’d realized the boy had most definitely grown into a man. A man she could depend upon when it seemed she had no other options available to her.

She opened her eyes and watched him as he drove, his concentration on the road ahead, his hands capable and sure on the wheel. He was a bit more leanly built than Ethan, but aside from that the family resemblance was strong. Just over six feet tall, with dark hair brushed back off his forehead and blue eyes that always seemed to notice far too much, Raif, like the rest of the Masters family had more than his fair share of good-looking DNA. Added to that was the perpetual tan he wore, a byproduct of his work outdoors on the vines that grew in the various vineyards run by The Masters. But even so, the differences were there if you looked hard enough. There was a suppressed energy about Raif, whereas his cousin was calm and measured in everything he did. Raif projected a more physical and active air.

There was no doubt he was a man who thrived on action and on thinking on his feet. His spontaneity was one of the reasons it had been so easy to continue thinking of him as the child he’d once been—impulsive and thoughtless, never considering the consequences. Today had been a perfect example of that. What was it that Ethan often said about Raif? Ah, yes, he was the kind of guy to always leap before he looked. Well, today she was truly thankful for that. Not at any stage had he asked her why she’d run from her wedding. He’d simply taken her away when she’d begged to be taken.

If it weren’t for him, she had no idea where she’d be or what she’d be doing. She was not the impulsive type, and never had been. Every choice was always meticulously planned and carefully considered. Until today. When she’d run out of that cathedral, she’d had no plan in mind, no destination in her sights. She’d just wanted to get away, with no thought for what would come next. Thank goodness Raif had run after her when he did. He might not be someone she thought of as a white knight, but he’d certainly come to her rescue. And the certainty that he had the situation in hand for the time being was enough to let her relax. For now, at least.

A steady rain began to fall and Raif switched on the windshield wipers. The rhythmic clack-swish of the blades across the glass was soothing and Shanal let her eyes close again, barely even aware that she was drifting off into sleep. When she awoke she found she was alone in the car. She struggled upright and rubbed her neck to ease the kinks out. Looking around, Shanal couldn’t identify exactly where they were, but she spotted Raif exiting a small grocery store across the road. As he got back in the car he tossed a plastic bag in her direction.

“I didn’t want to wake you so I guessed your size.”

She opened the sack and spied a six-pack of multicolored cotton panties and some ladies’ toiletries inside. A blush bloomed in her cheeks at the thought of him choosing her underwear, but she pushed it aside. She should be grateful he was being practical about things.

“Thanks, it looks like you guessed right. And thank you again for helping me today. I—I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

Emotion threatened to swamp her, and she felt his warm strong fingers close over one of her hands. A surprising tingle of response made her pull away. He gave her a sharp look.

“No problem,” he said steadily. “Are you hungry yet?”

She should be enjoying the sumptuous repast that had been booked at the reception center. Her stomach twisted. She couldn’t think of anything less appealing.

“I’m okay for now. How about you?”

“I can wait,” he said calmly as he started up the Jeep and swung back onto the road.

“Are we far from the river?” she asked.

“About ten minutes.”

True to his word, they pulled up at a small marina a short while later. The rain had stopped, but there was a cool wind blowing, and Shanal wrapped her arms around herself as they got out of the vehicle. She should have grabbed that jacket of Cathleen’s back at the house.

“Here, put this on.”

She caught the down-filled jacket Raif tossed toward her from the back of the Jeep, and gratefully slid her arms inside. Instantly, she began to feel the warmth, almost as if he’d closed his arms around her and given her the comfort she so desperately craved today. She followed him in silence to the pier where a man waited for them.

“Mac, this is my friend Shanal.”

Mac nodded a grizzled head in her direction. “Come aboard, I’ll show you around.”

Shanal was surprised by the luxury of the fittings on board. The boat, apparently one of Mac’s smallest, boasted three bedrooms and was more spacious than the compact town house she’d rented back in Adelaide before having to move home to help her parents. In fact, the layout was similar, the only major differences being the helm positioned near the dining area of the boat’s large main entertainment cabin, and the fact they were floating on the river.

“You driven one of these before?” Mac asked.

“No, but I’m sure Raif will show me.”

“Better you get Mac to show you now,” Raif said. “You’ll need to know what to do when you’re out on the water.”

She noticed he didn’t make mention of “we.” Shanal turned troubled eyes to him and fresh panic clawed at her throat. “You’re not coming with me?”

* * *

“Give us a minute,” Raif said to Mac, before drawing Shanal onto the deck at the front of the boat.

He was shocked to feel her trembling beneath his touch. She’d appeared calmer after that nap she’d taken in the car, and some of the shell-shocked look in her eyes had faded, but it was back again now, with interest.

“Here,” he said, pulling out one of the iron chairs that matched the glass-topped dining table on the deck. “Sit down.”

He squatted in front of her, taking both her hands and chafing them between his. He was worried at how icy cold she felt to his touch.

“I thought you’d be coming, too. You’re not going to leave me, are you?” she whispered.

Raif studied her, taking in the blatant plea in her beautiful green eyes and the worried frown that pulled between her brows. He hadn’t planned to go with her. Honestly, it had never occurred to him that she’d want him there with her. All he’d done today was remove her from a bad situation and organize the escape she had wanted. He hadn’t imagined she’d have any use for him beyond that.

And yet everything he knew about who she was—how strong and intelligent, how confident and admired—seemed to crumble before his eyes as he looked at her now. He’d thought the houseboat would be the ideal opportunity for her to get away and to think—to get things straight in her mind again before she went back to face the music. Why would she want him there for that? Why would she want any man around her when she’d just left her intended groom at the altar?

Though this was a woman who, in his experience at least, had no qualms about publicly humiliating men. Witness his own embarrassment when, in front of his entire family, she’d laughingly spurned his attempts to ask her to his high school graduation dance all those years ago. The sting of embarrassment had hurt far more than he’d ever admitted. Granted, it wasn’t on par with what she’d done to Burton, but her method of making clear she wasn’t interested had a way of staying with a guy.

“I’m sorry,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m asking for more when you’ve already done so much for me. It’s just...” She worried at her lower lip with her teeth and her gaze slipped out over the river that stretched before them.

“It’s just?” he prompted.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered, her words so quietly spoken.

The sudden vulnerability in her voice, hell, in her entire body, hit him fair and square in the solar plexus. Her slender fingers closed around his.

“You’ve already packed a bag,” she said in a lame attempt at humor before becoming all serious again. “Raif, please? I know this is a big favor for me to ask, but I really need to be with someone I can trust right now. Just while I work things out.”

She trusted him? Well, he wished he could say the feeling was mutual, but he certainly didn’t trust her. During the drive here he’d had more time to think. When he’d talked to her after her engagement, she’d been so adamant that the wedding would go ahead. He doubted that anything he’d tried to say back then had been the trigger to change her mind. She’d certainly never before given his thoughts or feelings any weight in the choices she’d made. So what had changed things for her? She had to be holding something back, perhaps the very something that had put the haunted look in her eyes.

He considered her plea, turning it over in his mind. He wasn’t prepared for this. Still, what harm would it do? Working the viticulture side of the family business certainly had its advantages come wintertime in that things definitely slowed down for him once he’d finished winter cane pruning on the vineyard. There was no other pressing business holding him at The Masters, nothing to prevent him from taking a week off work, if that’s the time it took for Shanal to ready herself to face the world again. Besides, there were three bedrooms on the boat.

Movement in the cabin caught his attention. Mac was getting fidgety, casting them a curious glance every now and then. Raif had to make a decision. Leave her to her own devices, or go with her. He knew what Ethan would do. More importantly, what Ethan would expect him to do.

Sometimes family honor was a bitch.

“Fine,” he said with a huff of breath. “I’ll come with you.”


Three (#ulink_46f3db6e-9edf-5cda-ab1b-16829e3ce3fa)

Relief swamped her and she put out her hands to grasp his.

“Thank you. I owe you so much already—”

Raif pulled away from her and stood up. “You don’t owe me anything.”

She felt his withdrawal as if it was a slap. She lifted a hand to her throat as she watched him go back inside the main cabin. God, she’d made such a mess of all this. Did he regret rescuing her today? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. It was one thing to whisk her away from the scene of her shattered future, quite another to continue on the journey with her. She was asking such a lot from him. And it wasn’t as if they’d ever been close.

Aware of his crush on her, she’d always made a point of keeping her distance, never doing anything to lead him on. She’d felt that in the long run, that was the kinder choice—though admittedly, that had been as much for her sake as for his. Ever since he’d transitioned from schoolboy to young man, there had been something about Raif that had made the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention. Something indefinable that always put her on edge when he was around, and that made her uncomfortably aware of herself and her body’s reactions to him.

She’d told herself way back then that it was ridiculous. She had her whole life planned out, and someone like Raif had no place in it. He already had that devil-may-care attitude to life, while she was always quieter, more considered in her decisions. They’d had nothing in common whatsoever aside from Ethan as a link.

But that had been nearly a decade ago. A lot had changed, for both of them, since then. He’d become fully a man, and was now even more confident, more self-assured, with that air of entitlement and power that all the Masters men effortlessly exuded. And she? Well, she was still that nerd with her nose in her research, and she was no less discomfited by his presence than she’d ever been.

That moment back at his house, when his fingertips had touched her spine, had felt electric. All her nerve endings had jittered with the shock of it—and now the two of them would be confined together for the better part of the next few days. She started to wonder if she’d made a mistake in asking him to stay.

From inside, she could hear Raif’s deep voice as he talked to Mac. Soon after, the two men hugged briefly and Mac debarked. Raif assumed his position at the helm and started up the engine. Mac cast them off from the pier with a wave. As the boat eased into the murky river waters, swollen with recent winter rain, Shanal felt a little of the tension that gripped her body begin to ease. She rose from the chair and went inside.

“I guess this has put a spanner in everything for you,” she said, as Raif met her gaze.

His broad shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not a problem. I’ll let the family know I’ll be away for a few days, and besides, I have nothing more important to deal with right now.”

She felt the slight in his words—the implication that she was no more than a minor irritation to be dealt with—and stifled a sigh. “You’re probably wondering why I ran away.”

Again, that casual lift of his shoulders. “Not my business.”

She struggled to find the words to begin to tell him. To explain her sudden overwhelming sense of suffocation and irrational fear. Standing at the altar—was it only a couple of hours ago?—and listening to the priest had forced her to see the rest of her life stretching out before her. None of it being as she’d planned.

Sure, as Burton’s wife she’d still be heavily involved in her research—finding refuge in facts and figures and analysis—and she’d finally hold the position she’d craved for years. When it had come to negotiating their prenuptial agreement—a clinical document designed to appoint Shanal as head of research within the facility and to outline the terms of the large monetary settlement to be made to her upon their marriage—she’d had one thing only on her mind. Security. Not happiness. Not love—well, except for the love she bore for her parents, and her desire to lift the strain and sorrow from her father’s frail shoulders for the life he had left.

While everything had been under discussion and was being fine-tuned by their legal counsel, it had seemed to be a reasonable trade-off. Financial security for her parents and job security for herself in exchange for marriage to a handsome, wealthy, charming man who she simply didn’t happen to love. But perhaps love would come later, she had thought at the time.

Burton had made no secret of his attraction to her from the day she’d started working at the research facility that bore his name. They’d had the occasional date now and then. Nothing serious—or so she’d thought. But then he’d surprised her with his proposal of marriage. Shanal had avoided giving him an answer straightaway, certain that she’d have to tell him no, but wary of what her refusal might do for her chances of advancement within Burton International. But then her mother had taken her aside one day and disclosed the dire position that she and Shanal’s father were in.

Shanal knew that the medical-negligence claim against her dad about five years back had cost him heavily. A proud man, proud in particular of his skill and sterling reputation as a physician, he’d hidden the early symptoms of motor neuron disease, to his cost and, even worse, to the cost of the life of one of his patients. After that dreadful episode, he’d been forced to give up his cardiovascular practice. No one wanted a surgeon whose muscles were systematically wasting away, leading to unexpected twitching. And certainly no one wanted a man who’d let his pride stand in the way of someone’s life.

His malpractice insurance had covered some of the costs of the suit that had been brought against him. But bowed by guilt, and with his funds tied up in long-term investments that were time-consuming and expensive to convert into cash, her father had taken out a short-term loan to make a large private financial settlement on the family of his deceased patient. Using his home as security had seemed a good idea at the time, and he’d had every intention of paying the loan back out of investment income. Until the truth about his investments had been revealed.

He’d trusted his old school friend who ran a financial-planning company. A friend who had, unfortunately, turned out to be running an intricate Ponzi scheme. Shanal’s parents had lost every last dollar. Shanal had given up her rental and moved back home immediately to help them out.

While she earned a good salary and had some savings, she knew it wouldn’t support the three of them forever. For the time being, they were able to afford the loan payments and living expenses, but those expenses would soon rise beyond what she could handle, especially as her father’s disease took greater hold on his body and he grew more dependent upon assistance. It struck Shanal as cruelly ironic that while her father had paid dearly to buy security for his patient’s family, everyone in his own was now paying for it.

In a weak moment she’d shared her worries with Burton, who’d immediately proposed marriage again, saying he’d planned to make her his wife all along and that the timing was perfect now, since as her husband, he’d be able to help her and her family. For starters, he’d insisted on taking over her parents’ mortgage and offering a financial settlement to relieve her and her parents’ stress when they married. She had honestly believed she could go through with it.

The reality, however, had been an unwelcome shock. Once she’d agreed to become his wife, Burton had shown himself to be intent on taking over much more than just her parents’ mortgage. The overwhelming sense of loss of self that had struck her when she’d been standing at the altar still lingered like cold, bony fingers plucking at her heart—at her mind. She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head to try and rid herself of the sensation.

When she opened them, Raif was looking at her again with those piercing blue eyes. She felt as if he looked right through her, but at the same time couldn’t see what twisted and tormented her inside. She wanted to break free of that gaze—to do something, anything, to keep herself busy, even if only for a couple minutes.

“I’ll make us some coffee, shall I?” she said, her voice artificially bright.

“Sure. Black for me.”

Of course his coffee would be black. Deceptively simple, like the man himself, yet with hidden depths and nuances at the same time. Shanal familiarized herself with the well-appointed kitchen, finding the coffeemaker and mugs tucked neatly away.

“How long have you known Mac?” she asked, determined to fill the silence that spread out between them.

“About five years.”

She waited for him to be more forthcoming, but may as well have been waiting for the polar caps to melt.

“How did you meet?” she persisted.

“We did some skydiving together, some canyoneering.”

Shanal was well aware of Raif’s interest in adventure sports. For a while it had seemed he was always hurling himself off some high peak or out some airplane, or kayaking down a wild river. The activities seemed a perfect match for the man he was—physical, daring and impulsive. But Raif’s interest in such activities had waned suddenly after the death of his girlfriend, Laurel, in a canyoneering accident a few years ago.

“Did he know Laurel?” Shanal blurted, without really thinking.

“She was his daughter.”

“Oh.” Her hands shook as she went to put her standard spoonful of sugar in her mug, and the white granules scattered over the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice gruff. “I don’t mind talking about her.”

Shanal flicked him a glance, noted the way his hands had tightened on the wheel, his knuckles whitening. “That’s the hard thing about losing someone, isn’t it? People often don’t know what to say, so they say nothing at all.”

Raif grunted a noncommittal response. Shanal finished making the coffee, thinking about what she’d said. She’d discovered the same thing applied when people suffered other tragedies—like illness. No one really wanted to face the issue, and conversation usually skirted around things. At least that’s what she’d found with her father. As the motor neuron disease ravaged his body, piece by piece, he’d lost his independence and ability. Their friends, not knowing what to do or how to help, had slowly withdrawn.

It hadn’t helped that her dad was such a proud and private man. He’d hated being forced into retirement because of his illness—still hated every lost ability, every task that he could no longer complete on his own that forced him to depend on the care of others. He had always taken such pride in his independence, his abilities. His work as a surgeon had saved lives and allowed him to provide handsomely for his family in a way that gave him a sense of purpose and meaning. Losing all that had been devastating. He’d become reclusive, despising himself for his growing dependency on others.

And then there was the financial situation.

Shanal slammed the door on her thoughts before guilt could overwhelm her. She had, literally, run away from the answer to her parents’ financial problems. She didn’t want to go down that road right now. She just couldn’t. Maybe in a few days a solution would present itself to her—and maybe vines would one day grow grapes of solid gold, she thought, deriding herself.

She handed Raif his coffee and sat down beside him as he negotiated the boat up the river.

“How far do you plan to go today?”

“Not far,” he replied, before taking a sip. “The sun will be setting in a couple of hours. We can pick a spot along the river, tie off for the night and then make an early start tomorrow if you feel like it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Here,” he said. “Do you want to have a turn at the wheel?”

“Is that safe? I’ve never done this before.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” he replied. “Besides, we’re not doing more than seven kilometers an hour. I don’t think even you could get us into trouble at this speed.”

“You’re referring to the time I crashed one of the vineyard tractors into the side of a shed, aren’t you?”

His lips quirked.

“In my defense, no one told me where the brake was on that thing.”

“Point taken. Which brings us to your first lesson today.”

He briefly explained the controls in front of them and then let her take the wheel. Once she got the hang of it, Shanal found it surprisingly relaxing as she gently guided the boat along the river.

The sun was getting low in the sky, sending the last of its watery golden rays through the trees silhouetted on the riverbank, when Raif suggested they pull in at a tiny beach on the river’s edge. After they’d nosed in, and he’d set up the small gangplank, he went ashore to tie ropes to a couple of large tree stumps. Shanal shut down the motor, as instructed, and walked out onto the front deck.

“I know this is crazy,” she said. “But I feel as if we’re the only people on the river right now.”

“I know what you mean. You get a sense of isolation very quickly out here. It’s good in its way.”

“Thank you. I really did need this.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment and went inside. After a few minutes she followed. Raif was opening a bottle of wine at the kitchen counter.

“Want some?” he asked, holding up an empty glass.

“Yes, please.”

She watched as he poured the white wine, and accepted the glass when he handed it to her.

“Yours?” she asked.

“Of course. My grapes, Ethan’s brilliance.”

She smiled. “You make a good pair.”

“Just like our dads did before us.”

“Is your dad still hands-on in the vineyard?”

Raif took a sip of the wine and made a sound of appreciation. “Yeah, although he’s pulling back more these days. He and Mum are planning a tour of Alsace and Bordeaux next year. He’s been tied to the vineyard for most of his adult life. It’ll be good for them to explore a bit more, and I know they’ll love France.”

Shanal took a sip of her wine, savoring the flavor as it burst over her tongue. “This is from the vineyard by your house, isn’t it? The one that partially survived the big fire?”

The Masters family had been devastated just over thirty years ago, when bush fires had destroyed the family residence, Masters Rise, and almost all their vineyards. It had taken years for them to recover. Years and many hours of hard work and determination from a family that had pulled together, growing closer and more unified in the face of the tragedy. Now, they were successful and strong again, but the ruins of the old house still stood sentinel over the family property—a solemn reminder that everything could be snatched away in the blink of an eye.

“Certainly is,” Raif confirmed.

“Ethan was telling me that you’ve become a keen proponent of organic vineyard practices.”

He smiled at that—the first real smile she’d seen from him all day—and seemed to relax a bit. “It’s hard to break with the old ways, but I think in this case it’s worthwhile. It’s always been my aim to work toward making the vineyards as efficient as possible using sustainable processes.”

“Well, if this vintage is any example, you’re definitely on the right track.”

He held his glass up in a silent acknowledgment of her compliment. “Shall we take these outside? You’ll be warm enough if you put my jacket back on.”

Shanal followed his suggestion, and after putting on the jacket she’d discarded on the couch earlier, walked out onto the front deck and sat in one of the wicker easy chairs positioned there. The sun gave a final burst of golden color before disappearing. Darkness spread, heightening the sense of isolation she’d mentioned earlier. And yet even with the night’s noises beginning around them, she didn’t feel anxious or afraid. Raif’s solid presence beside her put paid to that, she realized. And no wonder she felt safe with him, given the way he’d helped and protected her today. She owed him, big time. Not many men would have done what he did.

She sighed and sipped her wine. The silence between them was companionable, but she felt compelled to say something about the way she’d absconded from her own wedding.

“I guess I owe you an explanation,” she started, turning to face Raif, who stared out into the darkness beside her.

* * *

“Nope.”

Raif had no need to know what had finally brought Shanal to her senses and sent her flying from the cathedral this morning. And frankly, the less time they spent talking about her would-be groom, the better Raif would feel.

“But I—”

“Look,” he interrupted. “Burton Rogers and I might have been at school together. We might even have resembled friends once upon a time, but we’re not now. To be honest, I’ve wondered more about your reasons for agreeing to marry him than I have about your reasons for running away. You don’t need to explain a thing.”

Shanal sat up a bit straighter in her chair. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

“Don’t like him, don’t trust him.”

“That’s what you tried to talk to me about, back when we announced our engagement, wasn’t it?”

He drained his glass. “Another?” he asked, standing up and putting out his empty hand.

“No, thanks, I’m okay. In fact, I think that glass has completely gone to my head. I was too nervous to eat this morning and—”

“I’ll go warm up dinner. Mac left us a chicken casserole in the refrigerator. We’ll have to cook our own meals from tomorrow.”

He went inside before Shanal could realize he’d completely avoided answering her question. But he hadn’t counted on her dogged determination to see things to an end. He should have known better. It was what made her a good research scientist, but not necessarily good company right now.

“What was it that you didn’t say to me at the time, Raif? Why do you dislike him so much?”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“I’d like to know.”

He set the microwave to reheat and popped the covered casserole dish inside before straightening to face her.

“He killed Laurel,” he said simply.


Four (#ulink_44f1ea2b-77cb-5273-abe7-1487ddb35474)

“Raif, that’s not true! You know he was cleared of any responsibility in that accident,” Shanal cried in response, her smooth brow creasing in disbelief.

“I figured you’d say that. That’s why I didn’t want to say it to you then, or now.”

He turned away and hunted out cutlery and place mats for their meal, then walked past her to set the table.

“You still cold?” he asked, reaching for the switch to turn on the gas heater.

“I’m fine. What do you mean, you figured I’d say that?”

She had a bit more color in her cheeks right now than she’d had all day. Obviously she thrived on conflict and argument more than he’d realized.

“You were engaged to the man. Obviously you’d take his side. And let’s face it—we’ve always been at loggerheads with one another, haven’t we? You’re hardly likely to believe what I say.”

Raif crossed his arms in front of him and stood with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, daring her to contradict his last statement. As he watched her, she lost that air of bravado that had driven her to confront him just now. Her shoulders sagged and she seemed to shrink inside herself.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said softly, before lifting her eyes to meet his again. “And yet, despite your opinion of me and my choices, you were the only one who came to help me today.”

How did he tell her that he hadn’t done it for her as much as he’d done it to defy Burton? Hell, hadn’t Raif vowed after Laurel’s death that he’d do whatever it took to prevent Burton from hurting another woman, especially one he—?

Raif slammed the door on that thought before it could take wing, and busied himself with finding condiments to put on the table, and throwing the packaged salad he found in the refrigerator into a bowl.

Without actually saying in so many words that he believed the other man was a murderer, he’d tried his hardest to convince Shanal to question her reasons for marrying him. But she’d been adamant. Right up until that crucial moment this morning.

“Raif?” Shanal’s voice gently prodded him to respond.

“You were upset and wanted to get away. I was there and I had the means to help you—what else could I have done? I wasn’t going to just stand aside and let you be turned into a freak show.”

“No, I guess that’s bound to come when I return home again.”

“It doesn’t have to. You can make a statement to the media and request privacy.” He issued a bitter laugh. “Or you could not go home at all.”

She shook her head. “It’s not quite that simple.”

“It can be, if you want it to be.”

She averted her gaze, but not before he saw raw grief reflected in her eyes. There was more to this than she was letting on, he just knew it. But how to get it out of her? That was the question.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I’m not in a hurry to head back, are you?”

A shudder racked her body. “No.”

“Then let’s not borrow trouble.”

The microwave pinged and Raif retrieved the casserole and put it on the table.

“Come on. Take a seat and have some food.”

He lifted the lid of the dish and the delicate aroma of apricot chicken filled the air. Raif ladled a generous portion onto a plate and put it in front of her.

“Help yourself to salad,” he instructed, before serving himself.

They ate in silence, Shanal putting away more food than he thought she would, given the circumstances and how tightly she was wound. Halfway through the meal he retrieved their wineglasses and poured them each another serving.

“Trying to help me drown my sorrows?” she asked with a humorless smile.

“Are you sad?” he returned pointedly.

She held his gaze, her determined chin lifting a little, as if in defiance. “Not sad, exactly.”

And then her eyes grew shuttered again. She gathered up her plate and cutlery.

“Leave that,” Raif instructed. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m not a fragile ornament about to shatter apart,” Shanal protested as he took the things from her and stacked them in the dishwasher.

“Go, get an early night, and then maybe you’ll look less like one,” he said firmly, even a little harshly.

There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, which made him realize he’d gone too far. But then he saw her spine stiffen, and a bit of the fire she’d shown earlier returned.

“Fine, then. Since you put it so nicely. I’ll go to bed. Did you have a preference as to which room you want to use?”

“I put the bag of clothes in the end room for you. It’s the biggest.”

“But won’t you need clothes now, too?”

“We can stop somewhere along the river and I’ll get a few extra things. But I don’t need anything else for tonight.”

He slept in the nude, always, no matter the weather. Just because he’d rescued a runaway bride wouldn’t change that, no matter how her cheeks suddenly flamed with color as she also came to the realization he’d be sleeping naked.

“G-good night, then, Raif.”

She turned to go. He put out a hand to stop her, catching her slender fingers in his own. He felt her tremble at his touch, and silently cursed himself for being a boorish idiot.

“I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

“No, you weren’t,” she protested.

“Yes, I was. And I apologize. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. You’ve had a tough day and it’s not you I’m mad at.”

To his surprise, Shanal went up on tiptoes and lightly kissed his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She pulled her fingers free of his hold and went down the passage to the bedrooms. He remained rooted to the spot until she closed her door. Half his life he’d waited for that kiss. Fifteen long and often painful years filled with the crazy adolescent yearnings of a first crush. As he grew older and more in control of his emotions, there had even been the occasional dream fantasy that always left him wondering whether they’d be as good together as he’d always imagined. This was the first faint taste he’d gotten in real life of what he’d imagined in such feverish detail.

Her touch had been as delicate as a butterfly’s, yet he still felt the imprint on his lips. Still felt the surge of fire through his veins at her closeness. Still wanted her with an ache that put his teenage self to shame. This was going to be one hell of a week; he knew it right down to his bones. Just as he knew that the word good couldn’t come anywhere near to describing what they’d be like together, should it come to that. In fact, even incendiary didn’t come close.

In an effort to distract himself, Raif continued to tidy their things away, then poured himself another glass of wine. Maybe the alcohol would dull the allure of imagining Shanal asleep, in something of his, just down the hall. She was a tiny thing and would swim in his stuff. He groaned. This wasn’t helping. Even so, the picture of her dainty figure swamped in one of his T-shirts wouldn’t budge from his mind.

He went out onto the rear deck and into the cool night air. He stared, unseeing, into the ribbon of river, barely noticeable beyond the lights of the boat, as a cloudy sky obscured all possible star and moonlight. Had he done the right thing in agreeing to come along on this ride with Shanal? Probably not, he had to admit. He’d thought he had this unrelenting attraction he bore for her under control, and yet tonight all that restraint had melted under the merest touch of her lips.

It wasn’t as if she’d been the only woman to occupy his mind through these past years. In fact, the reverse was more accurate. He’d had plenty of other relationships, even loved one woman enough to consider asking her to be his wife. But something had always held him back. His reluctance to commit to Laurel had seen her finding solace in Burton Roger’s willing arms. And in the end, her life had been snatched away by one careless act.




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