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 OâNeill 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 rĂ©sumĂ© of previous experience, they hadnât checked every minute detail. Not that sheâd actually lied. Kitchen hands did assist chefs so saying sheâd been an assistant chef was a perfectly reasonable statement. And a take-away fish and fries shop was a seafood restaurantâmore 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 talentâconvincing people she could do anything. Lots of zippy energy and confidenceâthat 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. Sheâd 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 seasonâMay to Novemberâprovided 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 sheâd 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 OâNeills 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 heâd virtually jilted Hannah at the altar. Two years onâŠthe honeymoon period would definitely be over by now. Some darkly malevolent thoughts skated through Hannahâs mind. It was easy to say forgive and forget, move on. Sheâd certainly moved on, and on, and on, but forgiving and forgettingâŠnot 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 sheâd 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 sheâd 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 wasnât until three oâclock this afternoon. Couldnât have lots of hair flying around if she was to look like a professional chef.
Having checked that sheâd packed everything into her bag, Hannah said goodbye to her fellow backpackers and headed off to The Boardwalk CafĂ©, 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 youâd been and what lay ahead.
Optimism put a happy smile on Hannahâs face. Today was going to be a great day. It was lucky sheâd seen the job advertisement in the Cairns newspaper two weeks ago, lucky her rĂ©sumĂ© had won her an interview. If her luck held goodâand why wouldnât it?âby tonight she would be the new chef on the top cat of the Kingtripper line.
Â
âThe phone. It is Antonio. For you,â 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 Isabellaâs mind never rested.
AntonioâŠher second eldest grandson, thirty-two years old and too footloose and fancy-free for Isabellaâs 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 wasnât so. It had to be used wisely and well, not frittered away.
âThank you, Rosita.â She smiled at her most trusted confidante and lifted the telephone to her ear. âWhat is the problem, Antonio?â
A call during the day invariably heralded a problem.
âNonna, I need your help.â
âOf course.â
âIâm at Cape Tribulation. Thereâs a management hitch at the tea plantation here. Iâll 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 whoâve applied for the job of chef on DuchessâŠâ
Isabellaâs interest was instantly sparked. âAnd you would like me to do that for you and select the best?â
A huge sigh of relief. âCan do? Iâll have them redirected from the office at the marina up to the castle for you.â
âIt will fill in my day very nicely, Antonio.â
âGreat! Theyâre all young womenâŠâ
Splendid, Isabella thought. Perhaps one might be a possible wife. Antonio would need someone who liked being on a boat.
ââŠand according to their rĂ©sumĂ©s, which Iâll have brought up to you, theyâve had years of experience in the catering business. What I specifically need is a chef who can cook fish really well. Thatâs expected on Duchess. So make sure you question them on that, Nonna. Test them out.â
She smiled at his confidence in her ability to do so. And why shouldnât he respect her judgement? Sheâd 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.
âYou can safely leave this matter in my hands, Antonio. Go and sort out your management problem with a clear mind.â
âThanks, Nonna. Iâll catch up with you this afternoon.â
Â
âHannah OâNeill?â Speculative interest in the receptionistâs eyes. âLucky youâre early. Unfortunately, Mr King is tied up with other business so Iâm to redirect you to Kingâs Castle where Mrs King will conduct the interview.â
âFine!â Hannah flashed an agreeable smile. âIf youâll just point the wayâŠâ
Surprise in the receptionistâs eyes. âYou donât know Kingâs Castle?â
Was she supposed to know? âI only arrived in Port Douglas a couple of hours ago. Still getting my bearings,â Hannah quickly explained, throwing in an apologetic shrug. âMust say I headed straight for this marina. Great placeâŠâ
âOh! Well, keep going along Wharf Street, on up the hill and you canât miss it. Youâll see the visitorsâ parking area. The steps there will lead you toâŠâ
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.
Hannahâs 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 sheâd 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.
âHannah OâNeill?â the woman inquired, a slightly bemused expression on her face.
âThat I am,â Hannah replied, employing an Irish lilt for a bit of friendly distraction.
A nod, a half smile. âI am Isabella Valeri King.â
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, âA pleasure to meet you, Mrs King.â
Another regal nod. âPlease sit down, Miss OâNeill, and help yourself to any refreshment you would like.â
Hannah was glad to put the table between her and any possible sight of her navel. She wasnât usually self-conscious about her body, but then she wasnât 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, hadnât the old Roman senators worn leather sandals in their villas?
âQuite fascinating the list of places where youâve worked, Miss OâNeill,â came the first leading comment. âHave you been travelling around Australia alone?â
âWell, not all alone. Iâve made friends here and there and sometimes journeyed on with them. Itâs good to have company on long trips.â
âAnd much safer for a young single woman, Iâd imagine. Or are you attached to someone?â
âNo.â Hannah grinned hopefully. âStill looking for Mr Right.â
âWith an eye to marriage?â
The highly direct comeback floored Hannah momentarily. âWell, I guess thatâs what Mr Right is for, Mrs King,â she recovered, understanding this woman was highly unlikely to view the more casual live-together relationships in a kindly light.
âUnfortunately heâs not all that easy to find these days,â she rattled on, feeling she had to give a proper explanation of her failure to find him. âItâs not only a matter of him being right for me. Iâve got to be right for him and then the timing has to be rightâŠâ She heaved a rueful sigh. âHere I am, twenty-six, and the whole combination has not yet occurred for me.â
A sympathetic nod. âItâs true one cannot order it. As you say, there has to be a combination of auspicious circumstances.â
Got out of that one, Hannah thought triumphantly.
âWould you mind telling me something about your family, Miss OâNeill? I take it you are of Irish descent?â
Hannah laughed. Good humour covered a multitude of shortcomings. âIrish on both sides,â she replied. âMy motherâs name was Ryan. Maureen Ryan. Iâm the middle one of nine children, all of us very much wanted and loved.â
âNine? Thatâs a very large family these days.â
âI know. It amazes most people. Some disapprove, calling it breeding like rabbits. I can only say Iâve never felt like a rabbit and itâs always been great having the ready support of a big family.â
âYou havenât missed them on this long journey youâve taken?â was asked curiously.
âWell, we were brought up to be independent, too. To follow our own star, so to speak. Besides, theyâre all only a call away. I noticed an Internet cafĂ© here in Port Douglas when I arrived. That makes it easy to stay in touch.â
The old lady nodded, seemingly pleased with Hannahâs portrayal of her family background. âAre you keen to have many children yourself when you do marry?â she asked.
Why was this important? Hannah sensed it was. âAt least four,â she answered truthfully, then shaved the answer with practical issues. âIf I can get my husband to agree, and Iâm not too old when I find him.â
âTwenty-six, twenty-seven,â the old lady said assessingly, as though she was totting up how many babies Hannah could fit in. âPerhaps you need to stay in one place for a while, Miss OâNeill. How long do you plan on staying in Port Douglas?â
âOh, definitely for as long as the job lasts, Mrs King.â
A warm approval was now coming from the older woman, which boosted Hannahâs confidence. Family was obviously a key factor here. Hannah didnât care why as long as it was working for her. Her instincts were shoutingâPlay it to the hilt!
âI notice you spent the last tourist season working at Kingâs Eden Wilderness Resort in the Kimberley,â came the next tack in the interview.
Kingâs EdenâŠKingâs CastleâŠoh wow! Was this another branch of the same family? More legendary stuffâthe Kings of the Outback and the Kings of the Tropics?
âWhat did you think of it?â Isabella Valeri King ran on.
Hannahâs enthusiasm did not have to be feigned one bit. âThe resort was a fantastic slice of the Outback. A great experience. And so was working with the head chef there, Roberto,â she popped in judiciously. âI 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 catchâŠâ
âAnd you learnt to cook it as he did?â
âMrs King, give me a fresh barramundi, and Iâll give you a meal to remember.â
âI may take you up on that, Miss OâNeill.â
Enough about cooking! That hook was in. Better to get back to family. She projected eager, bright-eyed interest. âIs there a connection between the King family here and the Kings of the Kimberley?â
âWe are related,â came the proud acknowledgment. âThe older brother of my husband, Edward, carried the family line on at Kingâs Eden.â
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, âDid your husband build this castle?â
âNo. 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 Kingâs Castle, and so it is today.â
âPlantations?â Hannah prompted.
âIt was all sugarcane then.â She waved to the view. âLook across the inlet!â
Cane fields stretching from the sea to the mountains.
âMy 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 teaâŠâ
âTea?â Hannah remembered seeing a tea plantation at Cape Tribulation.
Isabella nodded. âThough I suspect Antonio is more interested in his Kingtripper Company. The new boat, Duchess, is his pride and joy.â
So Antonio would be her boss if she clinched the job. Antonio, AlessandroâŠa very strong Italian influence here. Maybe that encompassed the thing about family.
âYour rĂ©sumĂ© says you worked on a boat at Fremantle in Western Australia,â Isabella went on, getting back to tricky business for Hannah.
She nodded. âCatering for Sunset Cruises around the harbour.â If you could call drinks and nibbles catering!
âSo youâre used to working in a galley.â
âOh, yes. Absolutely.â
âAnd you donât get seasick?â
âNever have been.â
True, but she hadnât been tested much on that score. Better buy herself some travel-sickness pills to be on the safe side.
âMatteo supplies a selection of exotic fruit for exclusive use on Duchess,â Mrs King informed her. âYou will have to learn about their qualities. Matteo is my youngest grandson. He looks after the tropical fruit plantations.â
Three Kings, Hannah thought, and wondered if they had wives. âDo you have any great-grand-children, Mrs King?â
She smiled, delight twinkling in her dark eyes. âA little boy, Marco. He is the son of Alessandro and Gina, who is now expecting another child.â
âWell, congratulations!â Hannah said heartily.
âThank you. Unfortunately, my other two grandsons have not yet foundâŠâ Her mouth quirked. ââŠMiss Right.â
âItâs not easy,â Hannah said with much sympathetic feeling.
âLove is a gift,â Mrs King murmured, with a look of satisfaction that stirred Hannahâs 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, âThat will be Antonio, coming in to land on the helipad. He said he would join us here if he could.â
Uh-oh! Hannahâs stomach did a little flip. Sheâd 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.
AntonioâŠ
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.
