The Timber Baron's Virgin Bride. Daphne Clair

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.