Having His Babies (Harlequin Presents)

by Lindsay Armstrong

  ‘Or time to decide whether to do a flit?’ he suggested dangerously.

  She swallowed her sudden annoyance. ‘That isn’t how I operate, Lachlan,’ she said coolly.

  ‘Spoken like Clare Montrose, LLB, but you’ve shown a distinct tendency to want to do a flit from me in one form or another, Clare. Tell you what—I’ll do a deal with you. I won’t complicate matters for you on the home front until your father is really well again if you give me a promise you’ll be back within a fortnight.’

  She breathed heavily.

  ‘Otherwise I’ll come and get you, Clare,’ he warned. ‘The other part of the deal is that you keep in touch.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said heatedly.

  ‘Take it or leave it.’

  ‘But I’m not your prisoner!’

  ‘No, you are the mother of my child, though.’

  ‘And a very annoyed one at this minute, I have to tell you!’

  He laughed softly. ‘I’ll make it up to you when I see you again. Promise me one other thing—take care.’ And he ended the call.

  ‘Well,’ Jane Montrose said, and covered her daughter’s hands with her own as Clare sat down looking dazed, ‘I think you’d better tell me about Lachlan Hewitt. I’ve got the feeling he just could be the father of my first grandchild.’

  During the next two weeks, Clare and her mother were very ordinary. Jane Montrose, after having expressed the opinion that Clare should take up Lachlan’s offer of marriage, didn’t labour the point, and added that whatever happened she would be behind her every step of the way.

  Then she took Clare shopping and they came home laden with white wool and all the makings of a layette.

  It turned out to be good therapy for Clare, who remembered that she’d inherited her mother’s skill in that area although it was years since she’d done any sewing or knitting. And it kept them occupied for the two weeks that Tom Montrose was in hospital, as well as being a time on their own together during which they got to know each other as adults and which was very special to them both.

  She rang Lachlan every couple of days and when the two weeks was all but up told him she needed an extension to be on hand for the first few days her father was home.

  And, at her mother’s quiet insistence, when Tom Montrose had been home for three days, they told him together.

  His reaction astounded his daughter. He got sudden tears in his eyes and asked if he could have his name included if the baby was a boy. On the subject of her unmarried state he looked philosophical although, unbeknownst to Clare, he was on the receiving end of an almost militantly warning look from his wife.

  On the subject of who the father was, he again surprised Clare. ‘Well, well,’ he murmured, ‘from little acorns oak trees do grow, after all!’ But he refused to elaborate.

  The only thing that was not resolved during her stay with her parents was what she would do when she got back.

  But as she hugged her mother and said goodbye Jane patted her stomach.

  ‘I know,’ Clare laughed, ‘I’m popping out all over!’

  ‘Clare—’ her mother frowned suddenly ‘—when you see your doctor next, there’s something I think you should mention.’ And she told her what it was.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘THIS can’t be happening to me,’ Clare said helplessly to Valerie Martin.

  ‘I’m afraid it can, Clare.’ And the obstetrician conducting the ultrasound scan agreed. ‘See, there’s no doubt.’

  They’d brought the scan forward because the first thing Clare had done when she’d got back to Lennox Head, even before she’d seen Lachlan, gone to the office or gone home, was visit her doctor. And Valerie had immediately rung the obstetrician and begged for an appointment then and there. She’d insisted on coming and driving Clare herself.

  Clare stared at the monitor she was hooked up to via a pad on her stomach and felt like fainting.

  ‘What’s more, we’ll print you a picture or you can have a copy of the video,’ the obstetrician said. ‘But we’ll certainly have to watch you more closely now—er—Ms Montrose. Especially in light of your mother’s history.’

  ‘You can get dressed now, Clare,’ Valerie said kindly. ‘It’s lucky it’s a slow day for me, I can shout you lunch and we can talk about this.’

  But despite all Valerie’s reassurances that this could be handled Clare was still feeling like fainting when she let herself into her apartment. Five minutes later, Lachlan arrived.

  She opened the door to him and they simply stared at each other for a long moment.

  Until he said quietly, ‘I’ve missed you, Slim.’

  ‘I’m not slim and I may never be again,’ she said jerkily.

  His grey gaze roamed up and down her figure. ‘Yes, you will. In the meantime, it can be a private joke between us.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ She stopped and took a breath. ‘Come in.’

  He came in and took her in his arms. ‘How is he—your father?’

  ‘He’s doing fine,’ she said but distractedly.

  ‘Does he know he’s expecting his first grandchild? ’ He kissed her lightly.

  ‘Not—yes, he does. He was amazingly good about it, they both were.’

  ‘So—’ he frowned faintly and watched her for a moment ‘—what’s wrong? Are you trying to tell me something?’

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘I’m not going to go away, Clare,’ he warned deliberately, ‘whatever you may have cooked up with your parents.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ she said, and closed her eyes. ‘Lachlan, my mother was a twin!’

  ‘A …’ He paused then said, ‘Perhaps we should sit down.’ He led her into the lounge, and they sat down side by side on the settee. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I knew about it but I’d forgotten. I did know she had a brother who’d died at birth, it just—never occurred to me to think of the significance that he was a twin. But, while anyone can have twins, your chances are much greater—’

  ‘If it’s in the family,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Not necessarily. If my father had been a twin it wouldn’t have mattered—it comes down through the maternal line, you see, and—’

  ‘Clare, the suspense is killing me—are you telling me we’re having twins?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said tragically.

  To her utter amazement he started to laugh.

  ‘You don’t understand!’

  ‘Oh, yes, I do. Whilst a single parent of a single baby might be viable, twins could be another matter altogether, Ms Montrose.’

  She stared at him, full of frustration and all sorts of feelings she couldn’t begin to name, because he’d hit the nail on the head, although not all the nails.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ she said. ‘And that’s not all! I was starting to love this baby, I was full of plans and affection for it and—But now there are two of them—and all you can do is laugh, as if you’re having the last laugh to make matters worse!’

  He sobered as he watched the expressions of bewilderment, shock and outrage chase through her eyes.

  Finally, he put his finger under her chin. ‘Clare Montrose,’ he said softly, ‘whatever else I may be guilty of, I have no problems with twins—our twins. But this is going to be a little harder for you and for that reason alone, although there are plenty of others, I am not going to walk away, so you may as well get used to the idea.’

  ‘Lachlan—’

  ‘No, Clare, it’s not a question of will you marry me any more, but quite simply when?’

  They were married ten days later.

  It was a simple ceremony at the church in Armidale where she’d been baptized and confirmed.

  The bride wore a pale, lustrous grey silk suit, tunic-style, with short gloves and grey kid shoes. She carried a bouquet of the palest pink rosebuds and around her neck she wore a single string of rosy pearls with a pink Argyle diamond clasp—her wedding present.

  The groom, when she turned to
glance at him as she joined him at the altar, all but took her breath away—an effect he’d had on every female present whatever their age. He wore a beautifully tailored charcoal suit, his tawny hair was tamed and thick and he was so tall and distinguished, Clare felt a tremor run through her, but not only because of that.

  There was a little glint of something in his smoky grey eyes as they rested on her that was electrifying. So much so that she didn’t dare to look at him directly again.

  They had no attendants other than Sean, who stood at his father’s side in his first suit, obviously excited and happy as well as scrubbed within an inch of his life, although nothing had prevailed to make his fair hair lie down on his crown.

  All her staff had come down for the wedding, May was there as well as Valerie Martin, and her parents were plainly delighted. Even Paddy and Flynn, waiting gravely on the church porch, had little silver bells entwined in their collars.

  But on the first night of their honeymoon, as they stood in the middle of their bedroom on a lovely tropical island off the coast of Queensland, Clare felt unsure and tense.

  They’d flown to Townsville then boarded a small sea-plane for the short flight north to Orpheus Island. Situated in the Palm Islands, the resort on Orpheus faced the sheer majesty and breathtaking scenery of Hinchinbrook Island. Hinchinbrook, separated from the mainland of North Queensland by a narrow channel, was world-heritage listed for its unique beauty and pristine environment.

  But what she’d seen of Orpheus was lovely, too. Small and exclusive, the resort faced a white beach and sparkling waters with the bulk of the island rising behind it, grassy and golden. As they’d landed the sun was setting and the Palm Islands had floated almost ethereally in a violet sea while the sky over the mainland glowed a fiery orange.

  They’d had dinner almost as soon as they’d landed and that had been easy. Pleasant company, wonderful food, a starry, warm night.

  But instead of feeling relaxed Clare knew she was feeling the opposite. So much had happened in the last ten days it was hard not to feel shell-shocked, she reasoned. And Lachlan had orchestrated it all. So smoothly, she marvelled.

  He’d taken all the embarrassment out of revealing her pregnancy to her staff by presenting them with a fait accompli. He’d come into work with her the next morning and announced not only their impending matrimony but the news that they were expecting twins in late August. Everyone had been delighted.

  He’d sent a notice to the newspaper to the same effect and before long Clare had been receiving calls of congratulations from clients. He had, she was sure, connived with Sue to make sure the day-to-day burden of running the practice was eased off Clare’s shoulders. He’d even come up with a third-year articled clerk desirous of moving to Lennox Head, whose articles they’d been able to take over.

  And he’d taken her to Rosemont several times and told her she could rearrange the homestead however she liked. They’d decided to keep her apartment as a retreat on the beach.

  But as she’d walked through the rooms of her new home she’d felt like pinching herself and something else—a sense of disbelief that this was going to be her home from now on. Even May’s quiet but sincere words of genuine welcome hadn’t taken that away.

  The one thing he hadn’t done was make love to her. They’d not spent that much time alone in fact, for several reasons, the foremost being that the macadamia-picking season had just commenced. The nuts began to fall towards the end of March generally and his had been right on cue, so the harvest had begun and he’d had a lot of things to organize so that he could be away for the week of their honeymoon.

  But the other thing that troubled her as they stood facing each other was the memory of that glint in his eye as they’d looked at each other in the moments before their wedding had begun.

  Electrifying, yes, she thought, but something else—had there been a gleam of triumph?

  ‘Clare?’ he said quietly.

  She moved. She’d changed into slim white stretch trousers and a loose yellow overblouse with white flowers on it—she’d again had to acquire a new wardrobe.

  ‘Too big a day?’ he murmured, and put his hand on the nape of her neck to massage it gently.

  She moved again, luxuriously this time, as his slow-moving fingers seemed to work magic on some of her physical tensions. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure how I feel.’

  ‘Kidnapped?’ he suggested.

  Her eyes widened. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I know you better than you think. By the way, you were a stunning bride.’

  She grimaced. ‘A pregnant one.’

  ‘No one seemed to mind, least of all me.’

  ‘I thought you looked…’ she paused ‘…triumphant.’

  He didn’t ask her when or why. ‘I was.’

  She blinked.

  He laughed softly. ‘Didn’t you think I’d admit it—or have any right to be?’

  ‘It doesn’t sound—very civilized.’

  ‘I don’t feel very civilized. To be perfectly honest, Clare, when I saw you next to me in the church, looking so lovely, so wary and, to the discerning eye, bearing my child, I did feel a surge of triumph because I’d pinned you down at last.’

  She gasped.

  ‘There’s more,’ he said gravely as he watched her shocked expression. He was still massaging her neck and they were very close. She could see the faint blue shadows on his jaw and, once again, that electrifying glint in his grey eyes.

  ‘What?’ she asked faintly.

  ‘I’ve practised a certain kind of abstinence for nearly two months now, my dear. I’m like a man dying of hunger and thirst because, apart from one occasion, you haven’t crooked a finger at me.’

  Her eyes were suddenly huge. ‘You didn’t either.’

  ‘Because I wasn’t sure whether you wanted me, whether you were still concerned with that crazy notion of impropriety, whether you’d decided we should abstain until after the wedding. And all the time I’ve been missing out on everything that’s been happening to you.’

  ‘I … no, it wasn’t anything like that, not really.’

  He raised a wry eyebrow. ‘Not really what, Clare?’

  ‘I was afraid…’ She hesitated. ‘You said to me once that I was a joy to you as I was. But I’m not like that any longer, I may never be again—’

  ‘Clare—are you serious?’ He stared at her incredulously.

  She clasped her hands. ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’

  ‘But surely you’re not ashamed of—changing?’

  ‘No,’ she said intensely. ‘But men—’

  ‘You may not know as much about men as you think, Clare,’ he interrupted.

  ‘I know quite a bit about men as it happens,’ she said with a slight challenge in her voice.

  He smiled briefly. ‘If you’re talking about all the seamier side of them you’ve read about in your law books, perhaps. But I am in fact dying to not only see but touch this new you.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘That’s why I brought you up here, as far away from home as I could think of, so we could be intensely private and intimate, and get back to the thing that matters most—you and I.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t take issue with that, Lachlan.’ And she leant against him with a little sigh of pleasure. ‘But I must warn you I have changed.’

  ‘How was that?’ he said some time later.

  They were lying on the vast bed in each other’s arms.

  ‘That was very decorous and—appropriate,’ she said gravely. ‘Especially for someone as starved as you.’

  He propped his head on his hand and traced the new, more generous curves of her body. ‘Are you complaining?’

  ‘Well, you know how I like my sex. A little adventurous—’

  ‘And with strange men,’ he contributed with a wicked smile curving his mouth. ‘But I thought we’d decided, or you’d decided, to be proper and matronly.’

  ‘Matronly?’ She
sat up suddenly. ‘I don’t know why but the last thing I feel at the moment is matronly, and I was teasing you.’ She glinted her own little wicked look down at him. ‘That was lovely. And it brought home to me just what I’d been missing out on these last two months.’

  ‘Clare—’ he drew her back down beside him ‘—you know, you always surprise me.’ But he was laughing.

  ‘Do I? Tell me.’ She settled herself comfortably with her head pillowed on his shoulder and curled the springy hairs on his chest through her fingers.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘when I first met you, I was intrigued. You were so cool and brainy but the more I watched you, and then later thought about you, I couldn’t help wondering what you’d be like in bed.’

  ‘Talk about a typical man,’ she reproved.

  ‘And it grew until I knew that I had to find out—would you be cool and brainy in bed? Or—’

  ‘Lachlan!’

  ‘But you surprised me. You were tantalizing, fascinating, and I used to have these fantasies—that beneath that elegant, classy but definitely cool exterior there lurked a wild and wonderful lover and I was the only one who could turn it on.’

  She started to protest but thought better of it. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘What happens to me with you never happened before and I never thought it would.’

  ‘But then,’ he said significantly, ‘there were still times when you would go away from me, into your own little world of work, and you’d look at me as if I were a complete stranger—’

  ‘I didn’t—did I?’

  ‘I remember a couple of occasions when I came to see you at work, and you were distant and reserved. I had an awful compulsion to lock the door and have my way with you on your beautiful oak desk, or the floor.’

  She lifted her head and stared into his eyes, bemused. ‘I didn’t know,’ she whispered.

  ‘And that’s the other thing that surprises me about you, Clare. You often don’t have the slightest idea of what you do to me.’

  ‘You … don’t you mind?’

  ‘Yes and no. When I can bring you back to me like this—’ he touched first one nipple then the other and she trembled and leant her forehead against his chest ‘—not at all. As for being decorous and appropriate,’ he went on, ‘we do need to consider Tweedledum and Tweedledee.’