The Saxon Brides

Her eyes were wide, staring. Shocked. Little flecks of black floated in the unseeing smoky purple irises.

“Alyssa?”

“Is it true?” She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, looking shaken to the soul.

Joshua nodded, swept by a wave of terrible pity. She’d said she loved his brother. Had Roland known the depth of her love? Had he even appreciated it? Joshua doubted it. But he couldn’t afford to relent. Family came first.

Alyssa Blake was more than capable of looking out for herself.

Besides, she was too much of a forbidden temptation. “So you’ll be leaving in the morning?”

Her head came up. The magnificent eyes flashed. “I’ll go after the funeral. Please, leave me alone until then.”

And as he watched the tears pool, the foolish and chivalrous part of him wished he had the right to hold her, comfort her and wipe those tears of hopelessness from her eyes.

Alyssa crept in and stood in the back of the church, keeping her head bowed, and stared blankly at the order of service booklet that had been given to her by the usher at the door.

Yesterday she had called David Townsend, her editor at Wine Watch magazine, requesting a few days’ leave, without giving him any explanations. If she mentioned the word bereavement, she suspected that the tears that dammed up the back of her throat might overflow. Once she started, she feared she might never stop.

David had given her two days.

Alyssa had told him she’d be back in the office on Wednesday. But standing here in the crowded church, work … and Auckland … seemed so far away. A numbing mist enveloped her. Beneath the booklet she held, her gray pin-striped pantsuit seemed woefully inadequate. She’d intended to wear the outfit to the one-on-one meet she’d coerced Roland into. A quick glance around revealed that the boutique businesswear was out of place among the designer black and sedate pearls.

She hadn’t brought much with her—she’d only expected to be in Hawkes Bay for the weekend. She didn’t even have pins to put her hair up. The dark silky mass lay around her bowed face in a sleek wave. But shopping for mourning clothes and hairpins had been the last thing on her mind yesterday. Roland’s death on Sunday had left her reeling.

She opened the order of service booklet and found herself staring at a photo of Roland … a piece about his achievements, a short eulogy where he was described as “the much loved son of Kay and Phillip, brother of Joshua, Heath and Megan.”

Of course, there was no mention of his real parents, or the sibling who had been robbed of the chance to know and love him.

The hymns reverberated around Alyssa, moving her until her heart ached so much she thought it might burst. Then Joshua stood and started to talk about Roland, and her heart shattered.

By the time she arrived at the cemetery on the farm where Saxons had been buried for nearly a century, Alyssa was so wrung out by emotion that her legs felt a little shaky.

She’d debated about the wisdom of coming to the burial. She’d known it would be upsetting. The last funeral she’d attended had been her adoptive mother’s—and that had been simply awful. But in the end, the need to see her brother—her flesh and blood—laid finally to rest had won out. Perhaps now she might get some peace, too.

The first person she recognised as she made her way through the white-painted picket gate was Joshua.

She hesitated. He hadn’t seen her yet.

Alyssa halted a distance off from where the Saxons crowded around the grave and sneaked another look at Joshua.

His arm was around his white-faced mother and on his other side stood his sister, Megan, sobbing into a hanky. Behind them stood Heath and Phillip Saxon, looking solemn. Amy hovered dry-eyed at the edge of the raw grave, her expression bleak.

From her vantage point, Alyssa could see the rows upon rows of vines planted on the hills that lay below the cemetery. They would only just be starting to bud for the coming summer. It struck her that, unlike the vines, Roland would never see another summer.

Blinking back a fresh prick of tears, she barely noticed the breeze that swept her hair off her face as she listened to the priest delivering the prayer.

“Amen,” she murmured with the rest of the crowd as it ended.

“Don’t plan on staying,” Joshua said very softly from behind her.

She didn’t turn her head to look at him. She hadn’t heard him approach. But every hair on her nape stood up. “I won’t.”

“Good.” He moved to stand beside her as the final hymn started. “I don’t want Amy suffering any more than she already is.”

Alyssa stared at the words on the sheet of paper in her hand and stifled an impatient sigh. Amy. His parents. That’s all he could think about. What about her? “Please believe me, I’m not going to do anything to harm Amy.”

He gave her a hard look. “I wouldn’t let you.” His eyes scanned her face. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, as he examined every inch of her face.

“Well?”

“You’re beautiful.” His tone was dispassionate. Unmoved. He might have been studying an inanimate block of marble.

“Thanks,” she said tersely, her gaze dropping away from his. The knowledge that he considered her beautiful didn’t bring satisfaction. Joshua didn’t even like her—the real Alyssa Blake beneath the veneer—he’d made that clear enough.

A disturbing thought struck her. Perhaps he fancied Amy? And, now with Roland out of the way, did that mean Joshua expected a chance with his brother’s grief-stricken fiancée?

She gave him a covert glance from behind her lashes. “Amy’s beautiful, too.”

He stilled, the skin over his slanted cheekbones suddenly taut. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Her lashes swept up. Her eyes clashed with his frigid ones. “Just that you seem to admire her immensely.”

“You think I have the hots for my brother’s fiancée?” Darkness moved in his eyes.

“It would be understandable.”

Amy would be the perfect wife for Joshua Saxon. She was even Kay’s goddaughter. It was a no-brainer. “Amy is vulnerable right now. You’ll need to take care that she doesn’t view you as a rebound relationship.”

“I don’t need your pop-psychology advice. I don’t poach my brothers’ women.” His gaze was bleak. “Or at least, I never did. Not until the night I met you.”

What was that cryptic statement supposed to mean? A burst of adrenaline shot through Alyssa, quickly followed by a flare of desire.

What would happen if he learned Roland wasn’t his real brother. And that she, Alyssa, was Roland’s younger sister.

And what was the point of agonizing over it all. It was moot. Because Joshua would never learn the truth.

Despite the pale golden light of the sun, a cold shiver started at the base of her neck and inched down her spine, leaving Alyssa feeling like an emotional wasteland.

He moved away and Alyssa shut her eyes, and let the singing voices swirl around her. After what seemed an interminable time she heard car doors slam, the roar of engines starting.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. Conscious of the careless caress of the wind on her skin, of a tui whistling in a nearby phutukawa tree, Alyssa stood still as the cemetery rapidly emptied.

Finally, she opened her eyes. Only a few people remained. Joshua was gone. But the memory of his intensity as he’d told her that he didn’t want Amy suffering any more than she already was, remained vivid. What would it be like to be the focus of all that masculine protection?

She wished….

What was the point of wishing? The connection she’d sensed with Joshua had ended the minute he learned who she was. She was accustomed to being alone. As the indulged, only child of two older parents she’d grown up curiously isolated. She’d been thirteen when she’d discovered that she was adopted, that she’d been born Alice McKay—not Alyssa Blake.

She’d been so excited at the prospect of finding siblings … more family. But her mother had cried at the idea of Alyssa searching for her birth parents. For years Alyssa had put it off, fearful of upsetting Margaret. But finally she’d been compelled to make a start, secretly. Only after her mother’s death three years ago had she been able to focus single-mindedly on her quest.

She’d never tracked down her birth father. But she’d found her vacant-eyed birth mother in an institute for stroke victims and she’d become a regular visitor. But from the moment Alyssa discovered that she had a brother, she hadn’t rested.

She’d wanted to find him … Roland.

And now Roland was gone forever.

A cloud drifted across the sky and passed over the face of the sun, blocking out the sunlight and casting a shadow over the mound where Roland lay. Alyssa shivered.

Why? Why had she not forced the issue with Roland sooner, made him see her. They could’ve had a few weeks … months. She sighed. But would extra time have made any difference?

Alyssa supposed it wasn’t a big deal to him. Roland hadn’t needed a sister; he’d already had a sister—and two brothers. A whole proud, supportive family.

While, to her, finding her brother had become everything.

“Alice….” Kay spoke hesitantly from beside her.

She gave a start of surprise. “Call me Alyssa.” Alice was gone. Buried in the ground as surely as Roland was. Alice had existed only as evidence that she had once been someone else … someone with a brother.

Coming to a decision, Alyssa said flatly, “Joshua thinks that I’m Roland’s lover.” Alyssa still felt sullied by the accusation in his eyes. “I don’t like it—especially not since Roland was already engaged. I’d like you tell Joshua the truth, please.”

Kay shook her head, and gestured to the raw, new grave. “Roland is dead. Phillip and I don’t want the trauma of explaining to the children that he was never their blood brother.”

Children? Alyssa goggled at the older woman. Joshua Saxon was no child. “They’re adults, not children anymore. Surely they’ll understand?”

Kay looked uncomfortable. “It would mean their whole upbringing was based on a lie.”

“They deserve the truth.”

“It’s too late for that.” Kay shook her head and started to move away toward the white gate where Phillip stood, his back to them, talking with a group of mourners.

Frustration and despair pooled deep inside Alyssa’s chest, setting a heavy lump.

“Why didn’t you tell them sooner?” Then Roland might even have come looking for her. He’d have had time to come to terms with having a sister, of not being a Saxon by birth.

Kay stopped. “At first we intended to tell them, but the years passed, and then it was too late. Neither Phillip nor I want them to know now. It’s not necessary.” Kay faced Alyssa, her eyes a cool, implacable gray. “I’d like you to respect that.”

Alyssa had known how Kay would react, but she’d hoped …

It wasn’t to be. Roland was gone. Yet there was so much Kay could share about her brother. Maybe.

Alyssa’s heart started to beat anxiously in her chest at the audacity of what she was contemplating. “Kay, I won’t tell anyone. But only if you share your memories of Roland with me. Every day for a week. I want to see the photos of him, hear the stories of what he did, share the places he knew growing up.”

“That’s not poss—”

Alyssa read the other woman’s refusal in her eyes. Thrusting her apprehension away, she firmed her lips into a deter mined line and stalked past the older woman. “Then I have no reason to give you my promise to keep my relationship with Roland a secret.”

“Wait.”

She turned her head.

“You can’t do that.” Kay looked horrified. “And if I do as you want? How can I trust you not to say anything later?”

“I’ll give you my word.” Alyssa sagged under the weight of the tension. “And I’ll never break it, no matter what pressure I’m put under. This is important to me … It’s all I’ll ever have of the brother I’ve been searching for since I turned eighteen.”

“Okay.” Kay wore a peculiar expression. “Come to Saxon’s Folly in the morning. You’d better bring your bags. You may as well stay for the week.”

Alyssa felt a surge of victory … until she remembered Joshua’s hard, judgmental gaze.

Five

Alyssa drove through the curving set of white gates of Saxon’s Folly the following morning, nerves tying her stomach in knots. The beauty of the rows of vines stretching away on both sides of the long, oak-lined drive, still bare of the lush green growth of leaves that would come with summer, failed to calm her trepidation about encountering Joshua Saxon again.

At least she had her boss’s blessing. She’d called her editor early this morning, telling him that she needed a few more days off. David’s annoyance had evaporated when he’d found out she was in Hawkes Bay.

“Why didn’t you tell me that last time you called? I heard that Roland Saxon was killed over the weekend. A terrible tragedy. You can do a story on the great loss that he’ll be to the industry. Try get the scoop on who’ll be replacing him as the marketing man of Saxon’s Folly—and how that will impact on Saxon’s Folly’s place in the industry.”

Her breath catching in her chest, she said, “David, I want to take time off.”

“Are you ill? You sound strange.”

To distract her canny editor, Alyssa announced in a rush, “I’ve been invited to stay at Saxon’s Folly.”

There was a short silence. Alyssa could almost hear the cogs turning in David’s mind.

“Get a short obituary on Roland Saxon to me ASAP—if I have it by Friday, it can run in the next issue.” There was a moment’s silence. “You should’ve told me you were on visiting terms with the Saxons.”

She had no intention of explaining about Roland. She’d promised Kay it would remain a secret … and it would.

Alyssa thought about the obituary she’d agreed to write while she walked through the town picking up some toiletries and clothing for her extended stay. She had a horrible suspicion that Joshua would not be pleased when he learned about it.

Typically, as she pulled up in front of the winery, the first person she saw was Joshua Saxon. When she got out of the car, his face hardened, radiating disapproval. Alyssa’s gaze locked with his as he approached.

“The funeral is over.” His obsidian gaze bored relentlessly into her. “I thought you’d be packed and gone by now.”

Alyssa raised her chin. “I brought your jacket back.”

“Oh, thanks.” He had the grace to look slightly shamed as she got out of the car, popped open the trunk and drew out his jacket.

He took it from her and slung it over his shoulder. “Have a safe trip.”

Staring at her overnight bag, Alyssa hesitated. To hell with it. He’d know sooner or later. “I’m not leaving yet. Your mother has invited me to stay for a week.”

“You approached my mother?” He replied, openmouthed. “My mother is grieving the loss of her eldest son. She doesn’t need an interloper barging in at the moment.”

“I didn’t ‘barge in,’ as you so delightfully put it. Your mother invited me.” She drew a deep breath. “Inviting” was stretching the truth. She’d given Kay no choice. “Don’t worry, Joshua, I’ll be very sensitive of her feelings.”

He bent forward and hoisted her overnight bag out, then cast her a disbelieving look. “Right.”

Her heart started to race and apprehension shafted through her as his narrowed gaze raked her. He’d better never discover the truth of how she’d gotten her invitation. Quickly, she said, “Also, my editor has asked me to write a short tribute to Roland. I’ll use this week to research that.” No point hiding that.

“Oh, no, you won’t! You’re not poking around here for dirt on my brother.”

She’d expected his reaction. She lifted out her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m not here to dig up dirt. I’m here at the invitation of your mother. But it’s a good opportunity to talk to people about Roland, about what he meant to them, how he enriched their lives. Think about it, Joshua, there’s nothing sinister about a tribute in Wine Watch to your brother. The wine community is going to miss him.” And so would she.

Terribly.

He paused. She watched him weighing up her words, seeking the worst.

“I don’t trust you,” he said at last. “Don’t forget I’ve been at the sharp end of your poisoned pen before. I want to keep an eye on you, hear the questions you’re asking. You’re coming with me each day.”

Alyssa saw her dream of spending time with Kay, learning about Roland going up in smoke. “But—”

“That’s screwed up whatever it is that you want.” His eyes had narrowed to black slits. “So why did you gate-crash the ball? What is it that you really want, Alyssa? An exclusive interview?”

His derogatory tone caused her to say heatedly, “No, I came to—” Too late she remembered her promise to Kay.

“To what?” He pounced on her hesitation like a mountain cat.

She tempered her response. “I came to see Roland.” Let him draw whatever damn conclusions he wanted from that.

“Why? You still haven’t told me what you wanted with him.”

“I thought you’d decided that.” Alyssa couldn’t stop the snippy retort as she slammed the trunk shut.

“To get him to break up with Amy?” He didn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m still leaning that way, am I correct?”

“No!”

His eyes held cynical disbelief. “Then what? You had another agenda? Or do you still want me to believe that you and Roland were ‘friends’?”

Joshua gave friends such a mocking intonation that she flinched. But she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

He tilted his head sideways, examining her. “You wanted something from him. Did you think Roland would feed you the story of a lifetime?”

“No, seeing Roland had nothing to do with any story.”

“You’re trying to tell me that hooking up with my brother meant more to you than the sniff of a story?”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Joshua fell silent, a frown grooved between his guarded eyes. “You know, I’m starting to believe that Roland meant something to you. That you’re grieving for him as much as we are.”

Before Alyssa could respond to his unexpected concession, he’d set off with her bag in the direction of the main house.

They found Kay in the library, working at a big walnut desk overlooking the gardens that rolled down to where the vineyards started.

“Your houseguest.”

“Joshua—”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t stay, I need to get back to the estate.” Joshua set down her overnight bag and slung the dinner jacket onto a leather chair. “Don’t forget that we arranged to go to see Amy tonight.” He glanced pointedly at Alyssa. “It’ll probably be better if you stay here.”

“It would be rude to leave Alyssa. She can come, too.”

“No, it will be too upsetting for Amy—if she ever discovers the truth about why Alyssa was so eager to attend the ball.”

Kay blinked, the only sign that she’d remembered what Alyssa had told her in the cemetery about Joshua’s belief that Alyssa was Roland’s lover. For a moment Kay looked indecisive then she said, “If you think so, dear.”

“I do.” To Alyssa he said, “As soon as you’ve settled in, come find me. I’ll be in the winery.”

“Oh, but … I thought I would get to know Alyssa a little, especially if she and Roland were …” Kay’s voice trailed away “… close.” Her eyes darted everywhere—except Joshua’s face.

But he didn’t notice; he was too busy glaring at Alyssa.

“Behave yourself then,” he growled.

Which she took to mean that she was not to ask Kay too many questions about Roland for the tribute she was writing.

After Joshua had gone, Alyssa turned to Kay. “I know this must be very hard for you. Rather than talk about Roland so soon maybe we can take a walk around the vineyard.”

Kay sniffed but her eyes remained dry. “I want to talk about Roland. It happened so fast. Roland and Amy were due to get married in December. Phillip and I were looking forward to grandchildren—now he’s dead.”

“Children … I’ve never thought of children.” Or a niece. Or a nephew. Or a sister-in-law like Amy. “I hadn’t thought beyond finding Roland. He was the family I’ve been looking for since I learned I was adopted.”

The stark statement hung in the air.

Kay’s eyes darkened until the gray had turned almost black. “Oh, Alyssa….” She hesitated then she opened her arms.

Alyssa walked into them, conscious of the scent of lavender that clung to the older woman. At last she stepped away.

“I feel so … lost.”

“What about your parents? Wouldn’t it help to stay awhile with them right now?”

“My mother—adoptive mother—died of cancer three years ago. That was when I really stepped up my search for Roland. She’d never been keen on my finding my natural parents—or Roland when she learned I had a brother.”

Kay gave her a peculiar look. “Maybe she feared she might lose you.”

“How could she ever lose me? She was my mother, she’d raised me. I loved her.”

“What about your adoptive father?”

“He remarried last year—his new wife wanted to live on Australia’s Gold Coast with her daughter and two granddaughters.”

“So in a space of a few years you’ve lost your mother, your father has gone away … and now your birth brother is dead.” Kay looked quite ill.

“Yes,” Alyssa whispered, the pain of it all closing her throat. “But you’re going to share a little of Roland with me … and that’s so much more of him than I’ve had before.”

Once the Saxons had driven off to visit Amy that night, Alyssa felt strangely deserted. Using the remote to switch off the television, she was plunged into silence and within seconds the vast quietness of the homestead enfolded her. Other than one solitary creak of the beams, the lack of sound was absolute. Picking up the photo album that Kay had shown her earlier, Alyssa started to browse through.

A sharp burst of nostalgia pierced her as she stared at the images. Roland as a baby with only a little ginger fluff on his head. As a toddler, holding a new-born Joshua. A photo of Roland on his first day of school, gap-toothed, his red hair slicked down, with Joshua and Heath in front of him, as different from them as fire from coal. Roland and Heath smiling like little devils while Joshua stared solemnly at the camera, his gaze already self-possessed and direct. No Megan yet. Just the three boys.

The next page showed Roland on a bay horse, grinning as he held a great, big silver trophy aloft while Megan and Joshua stood on either side of the horse’s head, looking proud and pleased.

When she’d finished paging through the album, Alyssa set it aside and made her way to the kitchen, which Kay had asked Ivy, the friendly housekeeper, to show her around earlier. There was a tray set out for her. In the fridge was the slice of quiche and bowl of salad just as Kay had promised. But Alyssa didn’t bother to nuke the quiche in the microwave. She set the empty wineglass to one side and made herself a cup of cocoa instead and, picking up the tray, made her way out.

At the foot of the stairs Alyssa paused. Her room lay upstairs, along with Megan’s quarters, and Kay and Phillip’s suite. Downstairs was the wing that housed Roland’s rooms—and Joshua’s. A wave of shame swept her at the memory of what had so nearly happened in Joshua’s bedroom the night of the ball.

Curiosity propelled her down the stairs. At the base of the stairs the area opened up into an airy sitting room furnished with a large plasma-screen television, two brown leather sofas and a pair of armchairs. She’d caught only a glimpse of it on the night of the ball when Joshua had hauled her through.

An immense kauri bookshelf covered one wall that closer inspection revealed was filled with books on viticulture and a couple of rows of crime novels interspersed with classics. The opposite wall was filled by an abstract study of an incoming tide that looked like a John Walker. A narrow arch led to a sleek, streamlined galley kitchen gleaming with stainless steel appliances and beside it lay a cosy dining area.