Australia's Most Eligible Bachelor / The Bridesmaid's Secret: Australia's Most Eligible Bachelor

His expression softened at the very real grief he saw in the depths of her crystalline eyes. “Miranda, I’m sorry, but your mother must have had a reason for doing what she did. That’s if these photographs are of my stepmother. People do have doubles in life.” Even as he said it he knew it was Leila.

“You know in your bones they are,” Miranda told him bleakly. “I even look a teeny bit like her, don’t you think?”

“Not really, no. Maybe the point to the chin—although Leila’s is less pronounced.”

“So I must have my father’s colouring.” There was a yearning note in her voice he picked up on. “Whoever he might be. She never would say. Anyway, I have a whole scrapbook if you want to see it. My birth mother was adored. My grandparents were lovely people. Yet she cut them—her own mother and father—ruthlessly out of her life. I didn’t matter at all. Good gracious, no. I was just a huge mistake. You know how it is. She wasn’t going to allow an unwanted baby to ruin her life. She ran away and never came back. Not even a postcard to say she was okay.”

“You’re sure about that?” he asked grimly. “Your grandmother mightn’t have told you everything. People have secrets. Some they take to the grave.”

“Tell me about it,” Miranda countered with real sadness. “I loved Mum—Sally—my grandmother. I nursed her. I was with her at the end. She told me everything. Not a pretty story. I had to forgive her. I loved her. She was so good to me. Yet the person I had trusted more than anyone else in the world had lied to me. God, it hurt. It will always hurt.”

“I imagine it would.” He studied her downbent face. She had a lovely mouth, very finely cut. Leila’s mouth was positively lush. This girl wore no lipstick. Maybe a touch of gloss. “I expect your grandmother thought it was best at the time. Then it all got away from her. Where did you live?”

She told him. “The Gold Coast Hinterland, Queensland.”

“A beautiful area. I know it well. So your grandparents were farming people?” he asked with a frown. “According to Leila she was born in New Zealand.”

“She was. And just look at how far she has come.” Miranda gave a theatrical wave of her hands. “Married to one of the richest men in the country. You can bet your life she didn’t want any more children. She’s only thirty-three, you know. But children would only cramp her style.”

True of Leila. “The woman you claim is your mother told my father she wasn’t able to have children,” he volunteered.

“I think you can take it she’s a born liar. Anyway, your father has you and your sister. You’re the heir.”

“You bet your life I am.”

“Don’t look at me!” She slumped back against the rich leather upholstery. “I don’t want to muscle in.”

“I thought you did.”

He had very sexy brackets at the sides of his mouth. “No way!” She shrugged, unsettled by his proximity. In a matter of moments this stranger had got under her skin. Definitely not allowed. “What I want—what I need—is to have the financial backing to get through med school. I’m clever. Maybe I’m even cleverer than you.” She held up her hand. “Okay, joke! But I scored in the top one per cent for my finals.”

“And there I was, only winning a few spelling bees.”

“Not so.” She sat straight. “You were awarded a university medal. You have an Honours Degree in Engineering. You also have a degree in Business Administration.”

“Go on—what else?” he asked caustically.

“Listen, Corin. I did my homework. It was necessary. I’m not asking for a fortune, you know. I’ll get a part-time job. Two if I have to. But I must attain my goal. It’s what my par—my grandparents lived and worked for. I was the one who was to be given every chance. Only they both went and died on me. That’s agony, you know.”

He regarded her for a moment in silence, all kinds of emotions nipping at him fiercely. This girl was getting to him. And she had done it so easily. “Your story has to be checked out very thoroughly,” he said. “You might tell me how, given there wasn’t much money in the family, your mother got away? Everyone needs money to survive. She was just a schoolgirl. How did she manage?”

“I daresay she blackmailed my father,” she said, bluntly rephrasing the explanation her grandmother had offered.

“So it runs in the family, then?”

She winced, her turquoise-green eyes flashing. “Don’t make me hate you, Corin.”

He laughed, very dryly. “That’s okay. Hate works for me, Miranda.”

Some note in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “Miri, please.”

He continued to scan her face. “I prefer Miranda.”

She was locked into that brilliant regard. “You’ll find I’m telling the truth right down to the last detail. My grandparents didn’t know who fathered Leila’s child. But, whoever it was, his family must have had money. Someone must have given it to her. Although she took everything she could lay her hands on from her parents, including much needed money that was awaiting banking.”

“It’s a terrible story, Miranda, but not rare,” he said. “Young people—girls and boys—go missing all the time, for any number of reasons. It must be heartbreaking for the caring parents.”

“Leila obviously didn’t care about them. There was no abuse, no excessive strictness, only love. You know, I’ve been thinking of you—your father and you, certainly Leila—as the enemy,” she confessed. “You’re not so bad.”

“You don’t know me,” he said.

“I know you bear a noble name. The Corin bit anyway. I like it. I don’t even mind being allied with you, or your part of the enemy. But you can’t be slow about this, Corin. There are lots of things to be taken care of. I don’t have another damned soul in the world to appeal to.”

“And I’m supposed to care?” He was out to test her.

“But you do care, don’t you?” She was looking into his eyes as if she was reading his mind. “Leila may have cast a spell on your father, but I bet she didn’t cast any spell on you or your sister.”

Nothing could be truer. They had disliked and distrusted Leila even before she had married their father. Now they hated her. “So you think this will give me an advantage?” Of course it would. But he knew he wouldn’t use it. Not yet, anyway. His moment would come.

“Nothing so ugly,” she said. “You may dislike Leila. But you love your father. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“You might well make a doctor, Miranda,” he answered tersely. “You appear to have a gift.”

She visibly relaxed. “I hope so. I want so much to do good in this world. I won’t let my paren—” she corrected herself again “—grandparents down. I’m going to see this through and you’ve got to help me. I’ve even had a psychological assessment to determine whether I have the right stuff to become a doctor.”

“And you passed?”

“With flying colours, Corin. Also the mandatory interview for selection into the MBBS course. You don’t mind if I call you Corin?”

“Obviously you have a keen interest in getting me to like you.”

“I like you already. Bit odd, really. But I believe in destiny, don’t you? I was waiting for you—maybe your father. I got you. Far and away the better choice.”

There was severity, but a touch of amusement in his expression. “You can say that again. My father would have had you thrown out of the car. Right on your pretty ear.”

“Is that so? You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats a woman.”

“I agree.”

“Hey, you do love your dad, don’t you?” She eyed him anxiously. There was something a bit off in his tone.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Unusual answer, Corin.” She spoke in an unconscious clinical fashion. “I’d say textbook father-son conflict?”

“Sure you don’t want to go for psychiatry?” he asked very dryly.

“I hit a nerve. Sorry. I’ll back off. Anyway, even your father wouldn’t have thrown me out. Not when I waved the photographs.” His handsome face was near enough to hers to touch. “I have to be tough. Like you people. I know you can work this out somehow. I won’t interfere. All you have to do is make it so I’m able to get through my first three years of training until I attain my BS, then I’ll tackle my MB.”

“An extremely arduous programme, Miranda,” he warned her, shaking his head. Two of his old schoolfriends had dropped out in their second year, finding the going too tough. “Sure you’re up to it? I’ll accept you have the brains. Maybe you can handle the ton of studying required. But there’s a lot of evidence many students leaving high school with top scores fall by the wayside for any number of reasons. Happens all the time.”

She nodded in agreement, but with a degree of frustration. She had been warned many times over how tough it was. “Listen, Corin, you don’t have to tell me. I know how hard it’s going to be. I know many drop out. But it’s not going happen to me. I mightn’t look it, but I’m a stoic. I’ve had to be. My grandparents’ hopes and dreams will prevail. I’m up for it.”

Everything seemed to point to it. “Where do you intend to study?” he asked.

“Griffith for my BS, then on to UQ. Why do you look like that? I promise you I won’t ever bother you. You need never lay eyes on me again.”

“Sorry!” He focused his brilliant dark gaze on her. “If you check out—and it’s by no means a foregone conclusion—you’ll be expected to take tests I’ll arrange. Again, if you pass our criteria you’ll be under constant scrutiny. You mustn’t think you’ve got this all sewn up, Miranda.”

“If you want references you can contact my old school principal,” she suggested eagerly, her heart beating like a drum.

“You just leave that to me.” He dismissed her suggestion. “You’d be very foolish to try to put anything across me.”

“Whoa…I gotcha, Corin.” She held up her palms, her heart now drumming away triple-time. “So, you want to think it over?” She swallowed down her nerves, moistening her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

“Of course I want to think it over.” He spoke more sharply than he’d intended, but this girl was seriously sexy. God knew what power she’d have in a few years’ time. “I may sense you’re telling the truth. That’s all. If you’re Leila’s daughter, as you claim, you could be an accomplished liar.”

That made her heart swell with outrage. “What an absolutely rotten thing to say, Corin.”

“Okay, I apologise.” The glitter of tears stood in her beautiful eyes. Against all his principles, against rhyme and reason, even plain common sense, he had a powerful urge to catch that pointed chin and kiss her. Long and hard. A mind-body connection. It was almost as though he was being directed by another intelligence. Mercifully he had enough experience, let alone inbred caution, not to give way to an urge that was fraught with danger. Women had been making fools of men since time immemorial. Maybe this slip of a girl was trying to make a fool of him?

At first when she had made her mad leap into the car his mind had immediately sprung to his cousin, Greg. Greg was forever getting himself into trouble with women, but not teenagers—at least not to date. He’d never thought in a million years this would have something to do with Leila.

“Do you drive?” He turned his attention back to the would-be doctor. That counted for a lot with him. He had the ability to read people. She was ambitious, which he liked, idealistic, and she appeared very sincere in her aim. Becoming a doctor was a fine goal in life. He should check out her driver’s licence. If she had one.

“I can drive,” she confided. “As good as your Gil. Bet he was in the army at some stage. I used to drive the ute around the farm all the time, but I don’t have a car. I can’t afford one. Listen, Corin, I’m dirt-poor at the moment.”

“So where do you live now?” he asked. Gil was ex-army. She was very sharp.

“I share a flat with friends. A major downgrade for us all, but we have fun. My grandfather’s dying was a nightmare, then my…grandmother. What money there was simply went in to the bottomless hole of medical costs. There’s no licence for you to check. But you can check me out at my old school. I was Head Girl, no less Professor Morgan thought the world of me, which is as good a character reference as you’re likely to get. You can check out my grandparents too. Needless to say everyone in the district believed me to be their mid-life child. I have more information on my birth mother if you want it. My grandmother knew all about her marrying your father. She read about it in the newspapers. Leila might be all dolled up, but she’s the same Leila. Mum used to keep cuttings. Isn’t that sad? A parent is always a parent. No matter what.”

His father hadn’t been much of one, he thought bleakly. Not much of a husband either. In fact, the powerful and ruthless Dalton Rylance was a major league bastard. But he was still madly infatuated with the very much younger Leila. Obsessed with her, really.

“It’s all sad, Miranda.”

He gave way to a dark sigh. He and Zara had been devastated when their mother had been killed. Their father’s infidelities and lack of attention had brought great unhappiness to their beautiful, gentle mother. His maternal grandparents, the De Laceys, major shareholders in Ryland Metals, had positively loathed their son-in-law as much as they loved their daughter’s children. He, as his mother’s only son, had been extremely protective of her—ready to tell his father off at the drop of a hat, no matter the consequences. And there were quite a few he’d had to suffer along the way. The reality was he and Zara had looked to their mother for everything. Love, support, long serious discussions about life—where they were going. It was she who had taken them on numerous cultural outings. She’d been the source of joy in their so called privileged life. Their father had never been around. Jetting off here, off there. Legitimate business concerns, it had to be said, but it had never occurred to him to try to make up for his many absences when he returned. In his way Dalton Rylance had betrayed them all: his wife, his son and heir, and his daughter—the image of their beautiful mother.

And he punished her for it. Zara, the constant reminder. His hands tightened until his knuckles showed white.

“So what are you in the grip of?”

Her voice, which amazingly showed concern, brought him out of his dark thoughts.

“What do you mean?” She was way too perceptive, this girl.

“Don’t bite my head off, Corin. It can’t be me. It’s someone else you’re thinking about. What did you and your sister think when Leila turned up in your life? You couldn’t have lost your mother long? You must have been grieving terribly?”

“Miranda, we’re not talking about me,” he told her curtly, shaken by her perception. “We’re talking about you.”

“So you say!” she responded, undeterred. “Where did I get my brains from anyway? My maths gene, for a start. I was always very good at maths. My grandparents were lovely people. Full of good practical common sense. My grandfather could fix any piece of machinery on the farm. My grandmother was a great cook and a great dressmaker. But they wouldn’t have called themselves intellectuals. Neither of them read much.”

“Of course you are an intellectual,” he said, not sparing the dry-as-bone tone.

“No need to be sarcastic. I am. Fact of life, and I don’t take the credit. I inherited what brain I have from the boy—the man—who was my father. Leila can’t be too bright if she didn’t think I was going to track her down one day.”

“But there’s no way you want to meet her?” He trapped her gaze. God, wouldn’t that be an event to be in on?

“What? Show up unannounced? No way! I might tackle her to the ground and start pummelling her. Not that I’ve ever done anything like that before.”

“Miranda, don’t underestimate the woman you say is your mother,” he rasped. “It’s far more likely she’d seize you by the hair and have you thrown out. That’s if you could get in. My stepmother isn’t your normal woman.”

“Now, isn’t that exactly what I’ve been telling you?” she cried, her turquoise-green eyes opened wide. “She’s a cruel person. She broke her loving parents’ hearts. My grandmother died without her only child by her side. I don’t really care that Leila didn’t want me. Who the heck do I look like anyway?” She tugged in frustration at a loose silver-gilt curl. “What’s with the hair? The colour of my eyes? There’s my father out there somewhere. I might go looking for him. Did he even know about me? Actually, I’ve got a few doubts about your father. Given he’s the big mining magnate, how come he fell for Leila hook, line and sinker? What got into him?”

“Let’s not go there, Miranda,” he said tersely.

“Okay, she’s beautiful. She’s gorgeous. And she must be great in bed.”

And as dangerous as a taipan. “Are you done?” he asked, amazed. This seventeen-year-old girl was a total stranger, yet already they had made a strong connection.

“Don’t get angry with me, Corin,” she urged gently. “I could be worse. I could be out to make trouble, but I’m not. I don’t want to stress this—it’s a bit embarrassing—but look at the big picture. Aren’t we related by marriage?”

“I only have your word for it,” he answered, very sharply indeed because he was rattled. “Plus a few old photographs as some sort of proof.”

“Please…I don’t want you to be angry and upset. You might be keeping it well under wraps, but I think you have…difficulties in life.”

He didn’t care he sounded so cutting. “You’re a very special person, Miranda.” She had to be. Every cell in his body was drawn to her. It was an involuntary reaction. But sometimes one had to be cruel to be kind.

“You believe me, though, don’t you?” The glitter of unshed tears was back in her eyes at his harshness. “You believe me more than you would believe the woman you’ve known for years. I bet she’s been no friend to your sister. You do love your sister?”

He gritted his teeth. “Do you expect me to sit still for this interrogation?”

“Okay, okay!” She pressed her hands together as though in prayer. “I shouldn’t have said it. Let’s get back to what I need to get me through med school. I promise I’ll work harder than I ever have in my life. Back me and I won’t let you down. I’ll even try to pay you back once I qualify.”

He was driven to dropping his head into his hands. “Miranda, just stop talking for a moment. I’m going to check out your whole story. Or have my people do it for me. Don’t worry. They’re professionals. It will all be very confidential. None of the information they supply to me will get out. Where is this flat of yours?”

She was so nervous, excited, upset, her hands were shaking. “Look, I’ll write it down for you. And my mobile number. I hope I didn’t seriously ruin your day?”

“I can’t pretend you haven’t stunned me.” He shot back his cuff to check his watch. “I have a very tedious dinner party tonight I can’t get out of. I’ll get Gil to drop me off first at my apartment, then he can take you home.”

She became agitated. “No, no, don’t bother. I don’t want to put you to the trouble. Besides, I can’t possibly arrive back at the flat in a Rolls.”

“Gil can stop and let you out a short distance away,” he said shortly. “Anyway, it will be dark by the time he gets there.” He lifted his hand to signal the chauffeur, who now turned their way, walking down the path.

“So, will you let me know?” In her agitation she reached out to grip his hand hard, feeling the little shock wave of skin on skin. “Can I trust you, Corin? I do need help.”

“Have you told anyone else about this? Your friends?”

The brilliant gaze seared her. “Gosh, no! I promise you I haven’t told a living soul.”

“A smart move, Miranda, for a smart girl. You’ll hear from me within a few days. We’ll do this thing legitimately.”

“Legitimately, how?” She perked up.

“I’ll tell you when I judge it time for you to know,” he said dismissively. “But if you’ve dreamed up some story—”

“Then you’re free to go to the police.” She spoke with intensity. “It’s no story, Corin. That’s why you’ve been giving me a hearing. Even if your stepmother did lay eyes on me she wouldn’t recognise me.”

“On the other hand she might,” he answered her bluntly. “There is such a thing as genetics. You said it yourself. How did Leila produce a child with silver-gilt hair and turquoise-green eyes? It has to be your father’s legacy.”

“Or it could be any number of complex interactions.” She frowned in concentration. “So many variables—enzyms, proteins, biological phenomenon. I’m greatly interested in genetics and genomics, molecular biology. Why wouldn’t I be? I don’t even know who I am. That should put me at a serious disadvantage psychologically.”

He saw humour in that. “I don’t think so, Miranda. You appear pretty well integrated to me.”

“Gee, thanks!” She flushed with genuine pleasure. His good opinion meant a great deal. “Trust me, Corin,” she said earnestly. “Leila has totally forgotten she ever had a child.”

He swallowed his caustic retort. Hadn’t Zara always said there would come a time Leila, their stepmother, the central figure in their father’s life, would be caught out?

And so it began.

Chapter One

The present.

THE top floor of the immense glass-and-steel monolith, the command post of Rylance Metals, housed the multibillion-dollar corporation’s hierarchy. As Miranda rode the elevator to Corin’s office she had an overwhelming feeling she shouldn’t be in this building. Not that she would have to duck if she saw anyone. She had been inside Rylance Tower on isolated occasions over the past three years and no one had taken the slightest notice of her. Why would they? Her status of university student would have been obvious to them from her classic student dress. Besides, the Rylance Foundation sponsored a number of gifted students. They came and went. On those occasions she had been careful to maintain her camouflage. On campus she was a lot more flamboyant. Some of her girlfriends laughingly called her a fashionista. Amazing what one could do on a low budget, given a bit of flair. She had inherited that flair from someone. Leila? Leila was renowned for her style.

She had long since learned from Corin that Leila had been given a position on the board by her besotted husband. Corin had become so important to her she could recognise the fact he deplored his father’s decision. Not that he spoke about it. Only once, and then briefly. Corin played his cards very close to his chest. Mercifully today there was no chance of running into the woman who had abandoned her soon after birth. Leila only ventured into Rylance Tower for board meetings. Right now, she and her husband, Dalton Rylance, were in Singapore—a mix of business and pleasure, the newspapers said. Corin said business. It was always business. But Leila would get the opportunity to spend lots of money to make up for the time she had to spend on her own and so prevent herself from getting bored.

As Miranda stepped out into the hushed corridor, thickly carpeted and lined with architectural drawings—the corporation had its own architectural as well as engineering departments—she checked her watch. Ten minutes until Corin would see her. She was always early, never late for Corin. It was pleasant to make a little light conversation with his secretary, the beautifully groomed, forty-something Clare Howard, who was devoted to him and exceptionally good at her job. As she would have to be.

Afterwards, Miranda took a seat on one of the sofas facing a granite-and-chrome coffee table neatly stacked with trade magazines and financial papers. She picked up one, flipping through it without actually seeing anything. Today she had allowed herself a little more pizzazz with her dress. Ms Howard had kindly made a comment on how lovely she looked. Her dress was pretty. The yellow silk background was splashed with tiny daisy-like flowers in deep blue, violet and turquoise, with a fine tracery of green leaves. A sale coup. All the major department stores were running them in the recession. New turquoise sandals and a turquoise tote bag that looked a whole lot more expensive than they were completed the outfit. Her hair she continued to wear short, cutting her bubble of curls herself, sometimes enlisting a girlfriend’s help for the back of her head. She didn’t have the time or the money to go all-out with a glamorous new hairstyle. She had maintained her part-time job—waitressing at city restaurants, three nights a week—but that money was stretched to the limit. She had been given assistance by the Rylance Foundation to rent her inner-city flat, which was in a good, safe, very convenient area.