Bride at Briar's Ridge

‘I hardly know you.’

Linc looked across at her without a smile. ‘I understand your concerns. I share them, in a way. But some things—like basic instincts—have a way of cutting through our best intentions. We could act conventionally and take months getting to know one another, but both of us are at a time in our lives when our own instincts override caution. We’re attracted to one another?’

‘Yes.’ Daniela turned her head away, but openly acknowledged it. That attraction had sprung fully formed.

‘So, will you have dinner with me and forget your anxieties? Please say you’ll come.’ He glanced at her, seeing how her long dark eyelashes were quivering against the golden bloom of her cheek. ‘You know you want to.’

She nodded, but her expression was troubled. ‘What I’m wondering is what you really want,’ she said.

He reached out with his left hand and grasped the tips of her fingers.

It was like drowning in a sea of sensuality.

Margaret Way, a definite Leo, was born and raised in the subtropical River City of Brisbane, capital of the Sunshine State of Queensland. A Conservatorium-trained pianist, teacher, accompanist and vocal coach, she found her musical career came to an unexpected end when she took up writing, initially as a fun thing to do. She currently lives in a harbourside apartment at beautiful Raby Bay, a thirty-minute drive from the state capital, where she loves dining al fresco on her plant-filled balcony, overlooking a translucent green marina filled with all manner of pleasure craft from motor cruisers costing millions of dollars and big, graceful yachts with carved masts standing tall against the cloudless blue sky, to little bay runabouts. No one and nothing is in a mad rush, so she finds the laid-back village atmosphere very conducive to her writing. With well over 100 books to her credit, she still believes her best is yet to come.

Recent books by the same author:

WEDDING AT WANGAREE VALLEY*

CATTLE RANCHER, SECRET SON PROMOTED: NANNY TO WIFE† CATTLE RANCHER, CONVENIENT WIFE†

*Barons of the Outback duet †Outback Marriages duet

BARONS OF THE OUTBACK

Rich, rugged…and ready to marry!

In the searing heat of Wangaree Valley,

where the rainbow colours of the birds and flowers mix with the invigorating smell of the native eucalypts, sheep barons Guy Radcliffe and Linc Mastermann work hard to be at the very top of their game. They are men of the earth, strong and powerful! Their wealth and success mean Guy and Linc are two of Australia’s most eligible bachelors— and now they’re looking for brides!

Last month you read all about gorgeous Guy in: WEDDING AT WANGAREE VALLEY

This month, read Linc’s story in: BRIDE AT BRIAR’S RIDGE

BY

MARGARET WAY

CHAPTER ONE

LINC checked out of his Sydney hotel after a late breakfast. An easy two-hour drive later he was cruising through the beautiful Hunter Valley, wedged snugly between the blue-hazed Brokenback Ranges, dominated by the native eucalypts. He had an idea the word eucalypt came from the Greek for ‘covered’. Maybe it had something to do with the way the buds covered themselves, as though seeking shade. There were over six hundred species of eucalypt at the last count—Australia’s gift to the world. It was the fine drops of eucalyptus oil in the atmosphere that gave off that marvellous purplish-blue haze. That was how the beautiful Blue Mountains some forty miles west of Sydney got their name.

To his mind, trees made the landscape. He loved them. He was first and last a man of the land. Sometimes he thought he and the land were one—pretty much the same primal feeling of the first Australians, the aboriginals who had managed the land for 40,000 maybe 60,000 years. The white man, with his need for progress now almost out of control, was doing great harm to nature. The planet was screaming out for urgent change.

It was a brilliantly fine day, all blue and green and gold, and the unfolding landscape was like one of Hans Heysen’s famous rural paintings that found their way on to calendars and postcards and the like. Miles of sun-drenched vineyards met his eyes, expanding to the horizon. Here and there he caught glimpses of glorious big rose bushes, bearing a profusion of flowers. He knew roses were grown in close proximity to the vines because their presence protected the vines from certain blights. Fruit and flower gave off a heady rich perfume and a riot of colour.

The Hunter was Australia’s oldest wine-growing region, probably the most visited, and it produced wonderful wines. In fact the Hunter was a Mecca for those who relished gourmet food washed down with plum-coloured Shiraz, golden Chardonnay, citrusy Semillon or classic Cabernet with its blackberry flavour; a superb wine to complement every type of cuisine. He wasn’t behind the door with the vino, having sunk a bottle or two in his time, but he still had a taste for a good cold beer.

Some parts of the landscape were reminding him of Italy: the imported eucalypts, the golden sun soaking into the fertile soil, the intoxicating aromas of fruit and flowers, the open grassy meadows filled with wild poppies, scarlet and yellow, their papery petals bobbing in the breeze. He was halfway to feeling good when for many years of his life he had been swept by restlessness. He had a dark side to him. Linc had come to accept that. Now he took his time, savouring the laid-back atmosphere of the valley. It held more than a hint of the wild bush he loved. Every country had its own landscape. The Outback was Australia’s, but the