LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      ONE look at Aunt Cynthia gave Ryan a clue as to why Laura was so tense.

      The woman was formidable looking to say the least, tall and solidly built, with a manner of the sergeant major about her as she stood there at the top of the front steps with her arms folded over her battleship bosom and her thick-ankled legs slightly apart. The skirt and top she was wearing was battleship grey as well. Possibly in her late fifties, she had very short, tightly curled blonde hair—probably permed and dyed—large facial features and the hint of a moustache above her thinly pressed lips. Her eyes were small and closely set, widening slightly as Ryan braked the convertible to a halt at the bottom on the front steps.

      ‘Don’t you dare get out of this car,’ Ryan muttered under his breath as Laura automatically reached for the door handle.

      When her eyes jerked round to his he bestowed a one-thousand-kilowatt smile upon her, then bent over to graze her right cheek with his lips.

      ‘Just do as I say,’ he whispered at the same time. ‘And smile, for pity’s sake.’

      She didn’t smile, he noted. But she did as he said, staying put while he exited the car and strode round to open the door for her like a gentleman of the old school. Ryan deliberately didn’t look up at Aunt Cynthia until Laura was standing up, her hand safely enclosed in his.

      By then he was gratified to see true surprise on the woman’s face, along with an almost welcoming smile. She’d even unfolded her arms by the time he dragged Laura up onto the verandah with him. Thankfully, the woman was staring at him and not at her rather robotic niece.

      ‘You must be Aunt Cynthia,’ he said, beaming broadly. ‘What a lovely place you have here!’

      When she stepped forward to extend her hand, her beady eyes, which turned out to be a faded blue, actually sparkled at him.

      ‘We think so. It’s so nice to meet you at last, Mr Armstrong.’

      Ryan shook her hand with his right hand, at the same time keeping his left tightly clasped around Laura’s lest she bolt for it. Which she just might do, judging by the tension in her fingers.

      ‘Call me Ryan, please,’ he insisted warmly. ‘And perhaps you’d allow me to call you Cynthia? After all, you’re way too young to be my aunt.’

      ‘Oh, go on with you,’ she simpered in return, her cheeks going pink with pleasure as her free hand fluttered up to touch her hair.

      Laura could not believe it—Aunt Cynthia, actually blushing. The man was a menace all right. But this was why she’d brought him with her today, wasn’t it? To see this kind of reaction from her family, and Aunt Cynthia most of all. It was worth taking the risk of making a fool of herself with him in private to experience this moment of public satisfaction.

      When her aunt turned stunned eyes towards her, Laura found a slightly smug smile along with a surge of confidence.

      ‘He is gorgeous, isn’t he?’ she said.

      Ryan was momentarily thrown, not only by Laura’s compliment but by the smoky voice she used.

      Wow, he thought. A guy could get used to her talking to him like that. Of course, he knew it was just an act, but a very convincing one. It looked like he didn’t have to worry about her making a hash of their charade.

      ‘Thank you, darling,’ he said, giving her hand a little squeeze. ‘You’re so sweet.’

      Laura almost laughed out loud at the look on her aunt’s face. Dear, but it was priceless! Like she had something stuck in her throat.

      ‘How’s Gran doing?’ Laura asked whilst her aunt was still floundering.

      Cynthia blinked. ‘What? Oh … Er, not too badly.’

      ‘Can we go and see her straight away?’

      ‘Perhaps we should take our things in first,’ Ryan suggested. ‘I’d like to freshen up as well.’

      ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Cynthia said, quickly recovering her composure to play the perfect hostess, gushing over the car whilst Ryan collected their luggage. He carried Laura’s bag as well as his own, though he left Laura with the coat-hangered dress to carry, along with his dinner suit, which was also underneath a plastic cover. Ryan was glad now that he’d brought a suit with him, rather than more casual clothes. It wasn’t a tux, just a dark grey, single-breasted number which looked good on him and fitted in with any occasion.

      The house was as grand inside as out, Ryan noted, with a wide foyer covered in black-and-white tiles an elaborately carved hall-stand which had to be an antique, and an impressive curved staircase made of a rich red wood.

      ‘It’s cedar,’ Cynthia informed Ryan proudly when he asked about it. ‘There’s quite a lot of cedar in this house,’ she continued as she led the way upstairs. ‘The house was built back in the thirties before the war almost ruined everyone, the racing industry as well. Did Laura tell you this was once one of the most successful racehorse studs in Australia? No, of course she didn’t,’ the woman rattled on before Ryan could reply. ‘Laura’s not all that interested in this place or its traditions.

      ‘Now I didn’t put you in your usual room, Laura,’ she threw over her shoulder towards her niece who was trailing a little behind. ‘It’s way too small for two people. Shane and Lisa aren’t staying the night, so I made up the main guestroom for you,’

      she said, opening a brass-handled door on their right with a flourish.

      Ryan heard Laura make a small choking sound which, thank heavens, her aunt didn’t seem to notice, perhaps because she was busy bragging about the people who’d once slept in the very large four-poster bed which dominated the room. She mentioned a past prime minister, as well as a governor general, a couple of English aristocrats and a Hollywood star along with her very wealthy lover.

      ‘This house has a lot of history,’ she finished up by saying.

      ‘It’s a very beautiful house,’ Ryan complimented, having dropped both their bags by the door to wander across the room to the French doors which led out onto the verandah. ‘And a very beautiful room.’

      He turned to see a pale-faced Laura still standing in the doorway, staring over at the bed. ‘But Gran won’t like us staying in the same bedroom,’ she suddenly blurted out.

      Cynthia made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘Jane doesn’t need to know,’ she said airily. ‘She’s not allowed to walk up the stairs any more.’

      ‘So where’s she sleeping?’ Laura asked as she entered the room and draped the coathangers over the back of a chair.

      ‘We’ve refurbished the old servants’ quarters for her.’

      ‘The servants’ quarters!’ Laura exclaimed, her face flushing.

      ‘Before you blow a gasket, missy,’ her aunt said sharply, ‘Jane is very happy with the arrangements. So don’t you go making a fuss and making her unhappy.’

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