The Timber Baron's Virgin Bride

She had put on jeans and sneakers with a sweatshirt and was relieved to see that he, too, was casually dressed, although he wore riding boots.

In the car she told him, “Did your mother mention she had some visitors this week?”

“She asked them to come?”

“I don’t think so. They were passing through, I gather.” Pearl had invited Rachel to join them for afternoon tea, but she’d declined, not wanting to intrude. Afterwards Pearl had seemed quite animated, describing the middle-aged couple as old friends and saying what a nice chat they’d had.

They were the first visitors Rachel had seen apart from Kinzi. Pearl certainly wasn’t doing as much entertaining as she used to. “I think their name was McGill,” she told Bryn.

He nodded. “They used to live in Auckland until they retired to a beach community up north. I don’t think she’s seen them since the funeral. In fact after the first couple of months hardly anyone visited. She hasn’t shown any interest in resuming a social life without Dad.”

“Give her time,” Rachel murmured.

Bryn didn’t look convinced. He wasn’t used to standing by and letting things happen at their own pace.

The place he drove to offered trail rides and treks, as well as plenty of rolling, open countryside and stands of dark, mossy native bush.

Bryn’s big bay gelding seemed pleased to see him, and the owner supplied a pretty, soft-mouthed little mare for Rachel.

They started out at a sedate walk along a broad trail that wound through thick bush, but later when Rachel had got the feel of her mount, enjoyed a glorious gallop across green paddocks under a cloud-dusted sky, ending on a high knoll that overlooked rolling hills and a distant view of the Pacific.

There they rested the horses and dismounted, removing their helmets to admire sheep-dotted paddocks, blue-green stands of old bush in the folds of the hills, and the deep azure line of the horizon.

A few grey rocks seemed to grow out of the ground before them, and they sat side by side on one with a flat, slightly sloping top. Rachel rested her elbows on her thighs, her chin in her hands. At their feet grasses with plumed seed-heads bent before a sudden breeze that stirred her hair, loosening a few tendrils from their confining knot.

For long minutes neither she nor Bryn spoke. Then Rachel said almost to herself, “I never realised how much I missed New Zealand until I came home.”

Bryn leaned forward and broke off one of the grass stalks, smoothing the fluffy seed-head in his fingers. “You don’t miss the States?”

“Some things, of course. But my heart is here.”

“You’ll miss your American friends?”

“Yes.”

“A man?”

She knew he’d turned to look at her, but kept her gaze on the view. “No one special. If there had been, I suppose it would have been harder.”

Abruptly he said, “Kinzi’s been offered a promotion— a job in Australia.”

She had to look at him then, but couldn’t gauge his thoughts. He was staring at the stalk of grass, twirling it backwards and forwards.

“Is she going to take it?” Rachel supposed some response was expected. “What sort of job? I don’t know what she does.”

“She hasn’t decided.” He tossed the grass onto the ground. “She edits a fashion and beauty magazine, and the Australian owners want her to take charge of several of their publications over there. It’s a big opportunity for her. I don’t want to hold her back.”

“Would she let you?”

“Maybe,” he said, and stood up, looking towards the blue-hazed horizon, his back to her. “If I asked her to marry me.”

With a soundless thud something inside Rachel fell from her chest to her stomach. What was he telling her, and why?

Enough of this conversation. Rachel picked up her helmet from the ground beside her and began walking back to where the horses were cropping the grass. “If that’s what you want,” she said, “you’d better ask her.”

She strapped on the helmet, jerking it tight under her chin, and grabbed the mare’s reins. The horse turned its head and whinnied as she put her foot into the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle, then it danced backwards before she’d found the other stirrup.

Bryn caught at the reins and steadied the mare while Rachel took a firmer hold. “That’s your advice?”

She looked down at him, exasperated and oddly angry. “I’m not your auntie,” she snapped. “It’s up to you. Of course if you want to be noble, you could love and let go.” Something stuck in her throat, and she jerked the reins from his hands.

He stepped back, black brows raised, his mouth laughing. Then he strode towards his own horse, vaulting into the saddle.

By the time he set the gelding on the downhill path Rachel’s mare was well ahead, but he soon drew level.

When she broke into a gallop, the big gelding easily kept pace, but they slowed to a side-by-side walk on the wide track through the bush.

“I don’t make a habit of discussing my…affairs of the heart,” Bryn said, a sardonic inflection on the final phrase. “Did I offend you?”

“I’m not offended.”

“Could have fooled me,” he murmured. And then on a note of curiosity added, “Is it a case of female solidarity? Does that weigh more heavily than an old friendship?”

“You and I were never really friends,” she argued. “There was such a difference in our ages.”

“Our families were close.”

“My family were your family’s employees.”

He frowned. “Surely you’re not a snob, Rachel?”

“I’m just stating a fact.”

“Why are you angry with me?” He reached out and brought both horses to a halt, their riders knee-to-knee.

“I’m not angry.” A half truth. She was annoyed with herself for caring about Bryn’s love-life. Some sort of delayed hangover from a silly teenage infatuation. “Only I can’t help you.”

“I didn’t expect it, just thinking aloud, really.”

As if she hadn’t even been there. Or was a mere sounding board.

Once she would have been delighted at his confiding in her.

The mare gave a snort and shook her mane. Rachel felt like doing the same. Instead she let the horse break into a canter until they reached the yards and buildings where they’d started out.

Back at Rivermeadows, they found Pearl had prepared a cold lunch and set a table on the terrace.

Bryn said he’d like a short swim first, and although Rachel declined, Kinzi changed into a tiny bikini that showed off her perfect body. Helping Pearl place meats and salads on the table, Rachel could hear the other young woman’s giggles and little squeals, and Bryn’s laughing voice.

Over lunch Kinzi sparkled, complimenting her hostess on the salad and cold meat loaf, quizzing Rachel on whether she’d enjoyed riding again, and teasing Bryn about his affection for his horse, calling him “my cowboy”, which set Rachel’s teeth on edge but brought a half grin to Bryn’s mouth, that inexplicably made her mad again.

It was a leisurely meal and when the others repaired to the little sitting room Rachel excused herself, went to her room to get a book and then slipped downstairs again and into the garden. There she found a secluded spot under a weeping rimu that brushed the ground, and settled down to read.

She’d been there for some time when low voices, male and female, alerted her that Bryn and Kinzi were strolling nearby. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she scrambled up, closing the book, and got her hair tangled in the sweeping branches of the tree before she escaped its clutching fingers. She was picking narrow leaves and bits of bark out of her hair when the other two appeared round a bend in the path and stopped before her.

Kinzi giggled, then covered her mouth and said, “Sorry, Rachel. What have you been up to?” She stepped forward and plucked a small bunch of lichen and a twig from Rachel’s head. “There,” she said, dropping them on the ground.

“Thanks,” Rachel muttered. She must look a mess.

Bryn was regarding her with a faint smile, the skin about his eyes crinkling as though he too was trying not to laugh.

“I was reading,” Rachel said, “but it’s getting cool.”

Determinedly she stepped forward, and Bryn moved aside. She didn’t look back to see them walk on.

Upstairs, she brushed her hair and, leaving it loose, lay on her bed and tried to continue reading, but after a while got up and went to the window that overlooked the back garden, staring at nothing.

After a while she saw Bryn emerge from the trees with Kinzi clinging to his arm.

They stopped under the pergola, Kinzi’s face turned up to his as she said something that looked like an urgent plea. Then she slid her arms about his neck and kissed him.

Rachel watched Bryn’s hands go to the woman’s waist, and Kinzi pressed against him on tiptoe, his dark head bent to hers and their mouths clinging together.

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