âYouâre still not sure about marrying me?â
She bestowed a deep blue enigmatic gaze on him. âWhat do you expect, Etienne? I may have enjoyed kissing you, but thatâs a far cry fromââ she hesitated ââfromâ¦â
âLaying down all your arms?â he suggested.
âI would like to knowâ¦â She stopped and cleared her throat. âI would like to know if Iâm expected to go to bed with you tonight? I mean I know, and accept, that it has to happen sometime, butââ She stopped again.
âI shouldnât take it as an indication that youâre ready to leap into bed with me?â He reached over to take her hand and fiddled with his wedding ring. âAm I correct in assuming that youâre a virgin, Mel?â
Some of our bestselling writers are Australians!
Lindsay Armstrongâ¦
Helen Bianchin⦠Emma Darcy⦠Miranda Leeâ¦
Look out for their novels about the Wonder from Down Underâ
where spirited women win the hearts of Australiaâs most eligible men.
Heâs big, heâs brash, heâs brazenâheâs Australian!
Coming soon:
The Billionaireâs Contract Bride
by Carol Marinelli #2372
ETIENNE Hurst stood in the cold wind of a grey winterâs day and was amazed to find himself stirred by a woman.
A girl, more accurately, he reflected, and one who had little time for him although he hadnât seen her for over a year. Had that changed, though, he wondered, changed as she had changed? She would beâ¦nineteen now, he estimated. All grown up, but who would have guessed Melinda Ethridge would grow into this willowy creature, this fascinating, haunting figure, as she farewelled her father and stepmother, whoâd been killed in a light-plane crash?
Standing quite still, dressed in black but with her wonderful chestnut hair uncovered, she seemed to be in a world of her own. She wasnât crying, although there was deep sorrow stamped into the young, pale oval of her face and the pure line of her throat was essentially vulnerable. Nevertheless, her tall, slender figure was erect, even proud, as the wind swirled her long black skirt around her legs and lifted her hair.
Of course, women had stirred him before, he thought rather grimly. There couldnât be a stranger time for it, however, than while he was making his own farewells to his older sister, Margot, who had been Melindaâs stepmother. Nor could there be much reason to it. Melinda, universally known as Mel, had never got on with her stepmother and, by implication, had included the other member of the Hurst family under the umbrella of her dislike.
However, there was even less reason to it from the point of view that she was so young. At thirty himself, he thought heâd grown out of bright, breathless young things who fell madly in love at the drop of a hat. On top of thatâhe paused a moment to think of his sister, Margot. She had married Melâs father four years ago and brought glamour, sophistication and an expensive lifestyle to Raspberry Hill, the Ethridge family property, but at what cost? he wondered.
In other words, if, as he suspected, his beautiful, social-butterfly sister had stretched the family finances to the limit, what lay before Mel Ethridge and her three younger brothers and how much of it was his responsibility?
All the more reason to ignore this sudden fire in his loins, he reasoned with some well-placed irony.
Then she looked up and across at him and her eyes were like deep blue velvet. He saw recognition come to them, saw them widen and stay wide and trapped beneath his gaze until she blinked suddenly and accorded him a grave nod. And he knew heâd been unable to take his own advice in regard to this girl, although she turned to her brothers without a word and began to shepherd them to the waiting cars.
THREE weeks later, Mel Ethridge was driving a tractor to the storage shed with a load of pineapples in the trailer. It was a pleasant, sunny morning, spring had sprung, and she was feeling a bit better to be out and about and working on Raspberry Hill.
It had been a tough three weeks in more ways than one. Not only had she lost a beloved parent but sheâd also made the discovery that Raspberry Hill, a mixed property that grew pineapples and ran fat cattle and was the only home sheâd known, was in dire financial straits.
Then she noticed a familiar car, sleek, silver and shining, parked beside the shedâEtienne Hurstâs car.
She sighed but there was no help for it. Etienne was leaning against the car and it was obvious sheâd seen him and been seen. Nor was it the first time sheâd seen him since the funeral, although prior to it it had been some time. Heâd also been out of the country at the time of the accident and had only just got home in time for the funeral.
Since then, as his sisterâs next of kin, heâd been present at the reading of the wills, and he knew as well as she did how precarious the situation was. Not only that, if you didnât dislike him, you had to admit heâd gone out of his way to be helpful to the orphaned Ethridge family.