The Bridal Bargain
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Emma Darcy
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Powerful Antonio King is on hot coals, fighting not to mix business with pleasure with his new employee Hannah O'Neill. Yet when Hannah's past catches up with her and the risk of losing this intensely desirable woman stares him in the face, a passionate possessiveness drives him to an impulsive solution: marriage!
CHAPTER ONE
JOB day!
Hannah O’Neill rolled out of her bunk in the youth hostel, collected the necessities and raced for the shower block, needing an early start this morning. She had to prime herself up for the interview which would win her the job she wanted. Of course, there were probably other jobs she could get, and certainly her financial situation demanded that she snag one this week, but chef on board a luxury catamaran doing day-trips to The Great Barrier Reef was definitely a plum position.
It was to be hoped that whoever was doing the hiring had been so impressed by her brilliant résumé of previous experience, they hadn’t checked every minute detail. Not that she’d actually lied. Kitchen hands did assist chefs so saying she’d been an assistant chef was a perfectly reasonable statement. And a take-away fish and fries shop was a seafood restaurant—more or less.
All she needed was the chance to talk her way into being given the opportunity to prove she was as good as her word. It was her one great talent—convincing people she could do anything. Lots of zippy energy and confidence—that was all it took. Plus being a nice person to have around; cheerful disposition, ample tolerance, ready smile, never too proud to appeal for help.
On her two-year journey of discovery around Australia, these well-developed qualities had won her work whenever she had needed to replenish her bank balance. There was only the east coast left to explore now. She’d come across The Top End to Cooktown and down the Bloomfield Track to Cape Tribulation. Next stop, Port Douglas, where she hoped to stay for the main tourist season—May to November—provided she got a job.
The job, if luck was with her.
As she showered and washed her hair, Hannah gave herself the pleasure of remembering the wonderful days she’d had here at Cape Tribulation; hiking through the fantastic Daintree Forest which was as primeval in its own way as the ancient Kimberley Outback, then the incredible contrast of Myall Beach, surely the most beautiful beach in the world with its brilliant white sand and turquoise water.
It was sad to be leaving, but needs must, she told herself. Her shoestring budget was running out of string. Besides, Port Douglas and The Great Barrier Reef would undoubtedly prove a great new adventure. And it was time to get in touch with her family again to let them know she was still alive. Not that they worried overmuch about her. All the O’Neills had been brought up to be resourceful. But it was always nice to call in and catch up on the family gossip.
It would be interesting to find out if the faithless Flynn was still happily married to her ex-best friend, for whom he’d virtually jilted Hannah at the altar. Two years on…the honeymoon period would definitely be over by now. Some darkly malevolent thoughts skated through Hannah’s mind. It was easy to say forgive and forget, move on. She’d certainly moved on, and on, and on, but forgiving and forgetting…not easy at all!
Nevertheless, today was a day for looking ahead and that was what she was going to do. The past was gone. No changing the Flynn-and-Jodie blot on the landscape of her life but it was a long way behind her now and she’d enjoyed a lot of bright and shiny days, weeks, months, since then. And if she got the job on Duchess, that would be as good as being a duchess.
Having towelled herself dry, she pulled on her clean jeans and the stretchy, no-wrinkle midriff top striped in green and blue and black and lipstick pink. It was a brilliant little top. Not only did it go with everything she carried with her, it showed off the great tan she’d acquired and picked up the green in her eyes.
Her long, crinkly blonde hair always took ages to dry, but the road trip to Port Douglas would probably consume the whole morning. She would have plenty of time to put it into a neat plait before the interview, which wasn’t until three o’clock this afternoon. Couldn’t have lots of hair flying around if she was to look like a professional chef.
Having checked that she’d packed everything into her bag, Hannah said goodbye to her fellow backpackers and headed off to The Boardwalk Café, needing to pick up some breakfast and hoping to beg a lift from someone going her way. One good thing about being on the tourist track. People were usually generous about giving help. It was fun chatting about where you’d been and what lay ahead.
Optimism put a happy smile on Hannah’s face. Today was going to be a great day. It was lucky she’d seen the job advertisement in the Cairns newspaper two weeks ago, lucky her résumé had won her an interview. If her luck held good—and why wouldn’t it?—by tonight she would be the new chef on the top cat of the Kingtripper line.
“The phone. It is Antonio. For you,” Rosita announced, carrying the cordless telephone to where Isabella Valeri King was enjoying morning tea by the fountain in the loggia.
Yesterday Isabella had celebrated her eightieth birthday. She did not feel eighty. Her hair was white, her skin more wrinkled than she cared to notice, but she could still sit with a straight back and her dark eyes missed very little of what was going on around her. Rosita, who had taken care of her needs for the past twenty years, had insisted she rest today, but Isabella’s mind never rested.
Antonio…her second eldest grandson, thirty-two years old and too footloose and fancy-free for Isabella’s liking. Something had to be done about that and soon. Time was the enemy as one got older. The young thought they had all the time in the world, but it wasn’t so. It had to be used wisely and well, not frittered away.
“Thank you, Rosita.” She smiled at her most trusted confidante and lifted the telephone to her ear. “What is the problem, Antonio?”
A call during the day invariably heralded a problem.
“Nonna, I need your help.”
“Of course.”
“I’m at Cape Tribulation. There’s a management hitch at the tea plantation here. I’ll have to fly down to the other plantation at Innisfail and fix things at that end. The problem is, I had today earmarked to interview three people who’ve applied for the job of chef on Duchess…”
Isabella’s interest was instantly sparked. “And you would like me to do that for you and select the best?”
A huge sigh of relief. “Can do? I’ll have them redirected from the office at the marina up to the castle for you.”
“It will fill in my day very nicely, Antonio.”
“Great! They’re all young women…”
Splendid, Isabella thought. Perhaps one might be a possible wife. Antonio would need someone who liked being on a boat.
“…and according to their résumés, which I’ll have brought up to you, they’ve had years of experience in the catering business. What I specifically need is a chef who can cook fish really well. That’s expected on Duchess. So make sure you question them on that, Nonna. Test them out.”
She smiled at his confidence in her ability to do so. And why shouldn’t he respect her judgement? She’d been supervising the catering for the weddings at the castle for many years and never had there been a complaint about the food served. Isabella had always insisted on the best and knew how to get it.
“You can safely leave this matter in my hands, Antonio. Go and sort out your management problem with a clear mind.”
“Thanks, Nonna. I’ll catch up with you this afternoon.”
“Hannah O’Neill?” Speculative interest in the receptionist’s eyes. “Lucky you’re early. Unfortunately, Mr King is tied up with other business so I’m to redirect you to King’s Castle where Mrs King will conduct the interview.”
“Fine!” Hannah flashed an agreeable smile. “If you’ll just point the way…”
Surprise in the receptionist’s eyes. “You don’t know King’s Castle?”
Was she supposed to know? “I only arrived in Port Douglas a couple of hours ago. Still getting my bearings,” Hannah quickly explained, throwing in an apologetic shrug. “Must say I headed straight for this marina. Great place…”
“Oh! Well, keep going along Wharf Street, on up the hill and you can’t miss it. You’ll see the visitors’ parking area. The steps there will lead you to…”
A real castle! Hannah could hardly believe her eyes as she reached the top of the steps some fifteen minutes later. It even had a tesselated tower! Positively medieval! Although the colonnaded loggia that fronted the massive building could have been lifted straight from ancient Rome. A simply amazing place, set here overlooking the ocean in far North Queensland. A very commanding place, too.
Hannah’s curiosity was instantly piqued. What kind of people owned it, lived in it? Only great wealth could maintain it like this, she decided, eyeing the manicured lawns and magnificent tropical gardens. There had to be some really interesting history behind it all, too. Maybe she could winkle some of it out of Mrs King during the interview. People did enjoy talking about themselves and the less talk focused on Hannah, the better.
It surprised her to see an elderly woman seated outside in the loggia. She looked perfectly relaxed, in command of a table placed near a very elaborate stone fountain. In front of her were several manila folders and a tray holding refreshments; a jug of fruit juice, another of iced water, a plate of cookies, three glasses. As Hannah approached, she realised the woman was subjecting her to a very thorough scrutiny. She also noted her autocratic air, the black silk dress and the opal brooch pinned at her throat.
Hannah had anticipated meeting a much younger woman, but she suddenly had no doubt that this was Mrs King, and while she might be a white-haired old lady, the mind behind those brilliant dark eyes was razor-keen. Hannah felt she was being catalogued in meticulous detail, from the wavy wisps that invariably escaped her plait, to the cleanliness of her toe nails poking out from her sandals.
She was suddenly super conscious of her bare midriff and wished she’d worn a skirt instead of the hipster jeans which might or might not be showing her navel. Looking down would be a dead giveaway of an attack of nerves. Hannah held her head high, shoulders back, spine straight, and blasted any negative judgement with her best smile.
“Hannah O’Neill?” the woman inquired, a slightly bemused expression on her face.
“That I am,” Hannah replied, employing an Irish lilt for a bit of friendly distraction.
A nod, a half smile. “I am Isabella Valeri King.”
Which was definitely a mouthful of name, underlining a heritage that probably had royalty in its background. Being hopelessly ignorant of any useful facts, Hannah maintained her smile and warmly replied, “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs King.”
Another regal nod. “Please sit down, Miss O’Neill, and help yourself to any refreshment you would like.”
Hannah was glad to put the table between her and any possible sight of her navel. She wasn’t usually self-conscious about her body, but then she wasn’t usually in the presence of a woman who exuded aristocracy and was dressed like a duchess. Certainly not in these tropical climes.
She poured herself a glass of fruit juice, managing not to spill a drop, and determined not to be intimidated out of putting her best foot forward, even if it was only shod in a brown leather sandal. After all, hadn’t the old Roman senators worn leather sandals in their villas?
“Quite fascinating the list of places where you’ve worked, Miss O’Neill,” came the first leading comment. “Have you been travelling around Australia alone?”
“Well, not all alone. I’ve made friends here and there and sometimes journeyed on with them. It’s good to have company on long trips.”
“And much safer for a young single woman, I’d imagine. Or are you attached to someone?”
“No.” Hannah grinned hopefully. “Still looking for Mr Right.”
“With an eye to marriage?”
The highly direct comeback floored Hannah momentarily. “Well, I guess that’s what Mr Right is for, Mrs King,” she recovered, understanding this woman was highly unlikely to view the more casual live-together relationships in a kindly light.
“Unfortunately he’s not all that easy to find these days,” she rattled on, feeling she had to give a proper explanation of her failure to find him. “It’s not only a matter of him being right for me. I’ve got to be right for him and then the timing has to be right…” She heaved a rueful sigh. “Here I am, twenty-six, and the whole combination has not yet occurred for me.”
A sympathetic nod. “It’s true one cannot order it. As you say, there has to be a combination of auspicious circumstances.”
Got out of that one, Hannah thought triumphantly.
“Would you mind telling me something about your family, Miss O’Neill? I take it you are of Irish descent?”
Hannah laughed. Good humour covered a multitude of shortcomings. “Irish on both sides,” she replied. “My mother’s name was Ryan. Maureen Ryan. I’m the middle one of nine children, all of us very much wanted and loved.”
“Nine? That’s a very large family these days.”
“I know. It amazes most people. Some disapprove, calling it breeding like rabbits. I can only say I’ve never felt like a rabbit and it’s always been great having the ready support of a big family.”
“You haven’t missed them on this long journey you’ve taken?” was asked curiously.
“Well, we were brought up to be independent, too. To follow our own star, so to speak. Besides, they’re all only a call away. I noticed an Internet café here in Port Douglas when I arrived. That makes it easy to stay in touch.”
The old lady nodded, seemingly pleased with Hannah’s portrayal of her family background. “Are you keen to have many children yourself when you do marry?” she asked.
Why was this important? Hannah sensed it was. “At least four,” she answered truthfully, then shaved the answer with practical issues. “If I can get my husband to agree, and I’m not too old when I find him.”
“Twenty-six, twenty-seven,” the old lady said assessingly, as though she was totting up how many babies Hannah could fit in. “Perhaps you need to stay in one place for a while, Miss O’Neill. How long do you plan on staying in Port Douglas?”
“Oh, definitely for as long as the job lasts, Mrs King.”
A warm approval was now coming from the older woman, which boosted Hannah’s confidence. Family was obviously a key factor here. Hannah didn’t care why as long as it was working for her. Her instincts were shouting—Play it to the hilt!
“I notice you spent the last tourist season working at King’s Eden Wilderness Resort in the Kimberley,” came the next tack in the interview.
King’s Eden…King’s Castle…oh wow! Was this another branch of the same family? More legendary stuff—the Kings of the Outback and the Kings of the Tropics?
“What did you think of it?” Isabella Valeri King ran on.
Hannah’s enthusiasm did not have to be feigned one bit. “The resort was a fantastic slice of the Outback. A great experience. And so was working with the head chef there, Roberto,” she popped in judiciously. “I swear no one can cook barramundi like Roberto. Absolutely superb. It has to be the best-tasting fish in the world. Whenever the guests at the homestead brought in a catch…”
“And you learnt to cook it as he did?”
“Mrs King, give me a fresh barramundi, and I’ll give you a meal to remember.”
“I may take you up on that, Miss O’Neill.”
Enough about cooking! That hook was in. Better to get back to family. She projected eager, bright-eyed interest. “Is there a connection between the King family here and the Kings of the Kimberley?”
“We are related,” came the proud acknowledgment. “The older brother of my husband, Edward, carried the family line on at King’s Eden.”
Remembering the wonderful homestead on the great cattle station, sited like a crown on the top of a hill overlooking the river, she had to ask, “Did your husband build this castle?”
“No. My father did. It used to be known as the Valeri Villa in the old days. After my father died, and my son took over the plantations, the local people started calling it King’s Castle, and so it is today.”
“Plantations?” Hannah prompted.
“It was all sugarcane then.” She waved to the view. “Look across the inlet!”
Cane fields stretching from the sea to the mountains.
“My mother used to watch the burning of the cane from the tower here. But they do not burn the fields now. The cane is harvested green with special machinery. My grandson, Alessandro, looks after that business. His brother, Antonio, manages the tea…”
“Tea?” Hannah remembered seeing a tea plantation at Cape Tribulation.
Isabella nodded. “Though I suspect Antonio is more interested in his Kingtripper Company. The new boat, Duchess, is his pride and joy.”
So Antonio would be her boss if she clinched the job. Antonio, Alessandro…a very strong Italian influence here. Maybe that encompassed the thing about family.
“Your résumé says you worked on a boat at Fremantle in Western Australia,” Isabella went on, getting back to tricky business for Hannah.
She nodded. “Catering for Sunset Cruises around the harbour.” If you could call drinks and nibbles catering!
“So you’re used to working in a galley.”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.”
“And you don’t get seasick?”
“Never have been.”
True, but she hadn’t been tested much on that score. Better buy herself some travel-sickness pills to be on the safe side.
“Matteo supplies a selection of exotic fruit for exclusive use on Duchess,” Mrs King informed her. “You will have to learn about their qualities. Matteo is my youngest grandson. He looks after the tropical fruit plantations.”
Three Kings, Hannah thought, and wondered if they had wives. “Do you have any great-grand-children, Mrs King?”
She smiled, delight twinkling in her dark eyes. “A little boy, Marco. He is the son of Alessandro and Gina, who is now expecting another child.”
“Well, congratulations!” Hannah said heartily.
“Thank you. Unfortunately, my other two grandsons have not yet found…” Her mouth quirked. “…Miss Right.”
“It’s not easy,” Hannah said with much sympathetic feeling.
“Love is a gift,” Mrs King murmured, with a look of satisfaction that stirred Hannah’s curiosity again.
Before she could inquire what was meant they were both distracted by the noise of a helicopter zooming very close above them.
Mrs King looked even more satisfied as she explained, “That will be Antonio, coming in to land on the helipad. He said he would join us here if he could.”
Uh-oh! Hannah’s stomach did a little flip. She’d been doing so well with Mrs King, establishing a really warm rapport that would surely have led to her being given the job. Now she had to face the boss-man and win him over, too.
Double jeopardy!
At least she had his grandmother onside, which was some consolation, but undoubtedly the boss-man would have the last say.
Antonio…
Not married.
Did this mean he was hard to please? Or just too busy with his plantations and boats to care too much for any woman? Obviously a high-flyer in his helicopter, Hannah fervently hoped Antonio King would still have his head in clouds of tea business, at least until she could get a handle on him.
