Having His Babies (Harlequin Presents)

by Lindsay Armstrong

  She looked out into the night for a long moment. ‘I think I understand what you’re trying to do, Lachlan. Build a bridge between this—magic—and ordinary everyday life.’

  He released her hand but put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I always knew you were brainy. And it’s not a bad idea to take it with us, is it?’

  She laid her cheek against his chest. ‘For the difficult times?’ she said slowly.

  ‘Do you think I didn’t see you walking through Rosemont as if it were an alien planet? Do you think I haven’t noticed you walking through the macadamias and avocados, looking over your shoulder as if you’re expecting some ghost to jump out at you? It’s one of—’ He stopped abruptly.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘So I do know there are times when it won’t be easy for you, Clare. But there’s no reason why we can’t take this magic with us.’

  ‘No.’ She said it almost absently.

  ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

  ‘Will you mind if I do go back to work, though?’

  ‘Part-time, not at all. I think it would be good for you. As long as you don’t over-tire yourself,’ he said wryly.

  Of course this was eminently sensible, she agreed inwardly, and was probably a decision she would have made herself, but she felt a little niggle of unease. Because he had made it?

  But that was supremely negative thinking, she warned herself. No way to start this marriage of—what? she wondered suddenly. Not only convenience on her part because if she’d thought she was deeply in love with him before she now knew it had grown in the past week to almost unmanageable proportions. To the extent of barely being able to stop herself from telling him.

  But, although they’d made love and had all the appearance of being in love, the words ‘I love you’ had remained unsaid by either of them.

  Perhaps she had to prove herself as a wife before he’d say it, she pondered. Was that what this ‘bridge’ was all about? And she had the sudden chill little conviction that she might have hit the nail on the head.

  Then she felt it. Not such a feather feeling this time but a little tap then a series of little taps. She put her hands on her stomach and could feel the movement through her fingers. And it was as if her whole being was turned inwards suddenly, to the life within her, the two lives, an almost mystical moment that reduced everything else to mere pinpricks.

  She turned her face to Lachlan and it was calm and serene. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said quietly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY flew home the next morning.

  Lachlan had left the Range Rover in the security car park at Brisbane Airport. It was a three-hour drive to Rosemont from Brisbane but they stopped for lunch at Byron Bay then made another stop at Clare’s office in Lennox Head at Lachlan’s suggestion.

  Sue was working although it was a Saturday afternoon and she welcomed Clare with open arms and many comments on how marvellously well she looked.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ she said to Lachlan as they drove towards Rosemont at last. ‘She seems to have everything pretty much under control,’ she added wryly.

  ‘Feeling relegated?’ he asked with a touch of humour.

  ‘A little,’ she confessed.

  ‘I would take it as a compliment to what a welloiled machine you had up and running in the first place,’ he suggested.

  ‘You’re too nice. Talking of relegated, I guess you’re dying to see how many nuts have fallen?’ she said mischievously.

  ‘I … would never be able to relegate you, Clare, but, in a word, yes.’

  ‘You have my blessing,’ she said serenely. ‘I’ve got to unpack and—’ She gestured. ‘Plenty to do.’

  He glanced at her with something unfathomable in his eyes then it was replaced by a glint of devilry. ‘You don’t have to attack the laundry, Clare.’

  ‘Well, I may and I may not, Lachlan.’ They turned up the drive and suddenly Paddy and Flynn were racing alongside the car. ‘No Nez Percé,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘No.’ He frowned faintly and drew up in the gravel square in front of the homestead. There was another car parked in the square, a shiny silver Mercedes convertible that Clare didn’t recognize and neither did he, apparently, as his frown deepened. Then he swore as two people came out onto the veranda.

  Clare blinked and her eyes widened. ‘Not…?’

  ‘Precisely. Serena and her new boyfriend.’

  ‘Did you … last night … did you know?’ she asked shakenly.

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said grimly, and got out. By this time May had emerged from the house, looking distinctly troubled. But Lachlan came round and helped Clare down the high step first, then took her hand and led her up the veranda stairs.

  ‘Well, Serena,’ he said, ‘to what do we owe this visitation?’

  Serena took her time. She examined Clare from head to toe and in the tense little pause Clare was able to form her own impressions, the chief one being that Serena was still dazzlingly beautiful. Her fair hair was sleek and shining, her cornflower-blue eyes large and expressive with a heavy fringe of lashes, her figure in jeans and a blue silk shirt stunning.

  Then she flicked those cornflower eyes from Clare to Lachlan and she said in an attractively husky voice, ‘You didn’t waste much time, did you, Lachlan? I hope you warned your new wife that she’s due to become a baby factory—’

  ‘Serena.’ Lachlan said it coolly and with obvious distaste. ‘Just get on with it.’

  But that only made her smile. ‘Why are we here? We were in the district on holiday so I thought I’d pick up Sean and take him away with us for a few days. Only, there appears to be a problem. Now, I wonder how the Family Court would view it?’ she said meditatively. ‘Perhaps your new wife could enlighten us?’

  ‘What problem?’ This time Lachlan’s voice was as hard as steel.

  ‘The extent to which you’ve alienated Sean from me, Lachlan.’ Serena’s voice hardened, too. ‘Even going to the length of impregnating your solicitor so you could marry her to be able to keep Sean here. I think they might have a problem with it,’ she finished gently.

  ‘I’ve done nothing to alienate Sean from you, he’s always wanted to stay here and you’ve always been happy to have him out of your hair—’

  ‘Tell him, May,’ Serena interrupted.

  May sighed heavily. ‘He’s locked himself in his room and gone on a hunger strike—rather than go with Serena.’

  Sean abandoned his hunger strike, only an hour or so old as it happened, and unlocked his door as soon as he heard his father’s voice.

  He also said to his mother, ‘Serena, don’t take this personally but I want to live here. I’ll come and see you often, though. Hey! I’ll always be your kid and you’ll always be my mum.’

  Clare flinched from the flash of fury she saw in Serena’s eyes, but the other woman, to give her credit, laughed suddenly and hugged him.

  In all this, Serena’s boyfriend was a somewhat bemused and silent spectator. Then he held out his hand to Lachlan and introduced himself as Bruce Davidson.

  He was not as tall as Lachlan, balding, with a stocky build, but with plenty of evidence of his wealth displayed upon his person. A gold chain around his neck, a gold watch that must have cost thousands on his wrist; Gucci loafers worn with lime-green linen trousers and a bottle-green silk shirt that shouted either Armani or Versace; a gold and diamond studded key ring that he jiggled frequently.

  But despite the clear contrast between these two men Clare found herself liking Bruce. Although she couldn’t deny that the contrast between Lachlan’s physique and sheer masculinity in his khaki moleskin trousers and checked shirt, and Bruce’s colourful splendour, gave her an unholy moment of triumph over Serena Hewitt.

  It was a tribute to May’s diplomacy how this happened. She produced afternoon tea and insisted they all sit down to it.

  At first Serena was silent and mutinous. But Bruce exerted himself to talk to both Clare and Lachlan, and, finding herself
outgunned, perhaps, she gradually thawed, although there was something oddly chilling in the way her gaze rested on Clare now and then.

  As for Clare herself, she felt a bit as if she were Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, but she responded to Bruce’s olive branch and that was when she discovered he was rather nice. Shrewd, probably, she divined, down-to-earth and possessed of a keen sense of humour, and not unkind. She judged him to be a few years older than Lachlan.

  It also became clear to her that Serena would not always get her own way with this man, despite his obvious devotion to her. He told them openly that this was his first bite of the cherry, his first marriage, and he was looking forward to the day when they had children of their own.

  ‘I’ll have half-brothers and sisters popping out all over,’ Sean commented ruefully, and got a cool look from his father.

  ‘You know,’ Bruce said thoughtfully and softly to Clare, ‘I misjudged that kid. Serena told me he was very bright, but how bloody bright can an eight-year-old be, I said to myself? He’s only a kid!’

  ‘This one—extremely,’ she said wryly.

  ‘So maybe I talked down to him and frightened him off?’

  ‘Uh—maybe.’

  Bruce jiggled his key ring. ‘I’ll give it some thought. I hear you’re expecting twins?’

  ‘Yes. And beginning to look and feel like it,’ she said.

  His gaze travelled unembarrassedly over her. She was wearing her yellow-and-white overblouse and white leggings. Then he said, ‘I think you look marvellous! ’

  Unfortunately these words fell into a little pause in the conversation from the rest of the table, and Serena shot Clare the deadliest look before swiftly veiling her eyes—leaving Clare with the clear understanding that Lachlan’s first wife hated her thoroughly without even knowing her.

  If this wasn’t enough, as they were leaving, Bruce turned to look at the old homestead surrounded by its rose gardens and said, ‘Got a lot of class, this place. I might borrow some ideas from it.’

  ‘If it wasn’t so serious it would have been funny,’ Clare said, later that evening. ‘Sean’s amazingly resourceful if nothing else.’

  ‘I suppose it had its moments,’ Lachlan said.

  They were sitting in the den. Sean was in bed asleep and May had retired to her own area of the house, a separate wing.

  ‘Bruce wasn’t exactly tactful, either,’ Lachlan added with a glint of humour.

  ‘I liked him,’ Clare said slowly. ‘Whereas Serena is obviously not going to like me whatever I do.’

  ‘She may have bitten off more than she can chew, in answer to your first observation, Clare. But I wouldn’t worry about whether she likes you or not. It’s not common for first wives to like their replacements.’

  Especially if they resent being replaced and still love or want their first husbands, Clare mused inwardly.

  ‘By the way, I don’t expect you to be a baby factory,’ he said.

  Clare glanced at him. He was sitting on a low ottoman beside her chair with his hands around one knee and, because he was lower than she was, she was in the unusual position of being able to see the top of his head, although not, at that moment, his eyes.

  ‘Quite unwittingly and not your fault on this occasion, I may feel like one from time to time,’ she said humorously. ‘But was that one of the reasons you got divorced? Because she wouldn’t have any more children?’

  He didn’t answer for a while and when he did it was still only the top of his head she could see. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘I did want more. I thought it would be good for Sean, and I thought it might reduce her preoccupation with herself. And I probably suffer from an only-child syndrome—did you ever, Clare?’ He looked up at her at last.

  It took her by surprise and only later occurred to her that he was changing the subject. ‘As a matter of fact, I used to long for brothers and sisters when I was growing up. I can remember thinking that it…’ she paused and narrowed her eyes ‘…gave one a built-in advantage when it came to interacting with other kids.’

  He nodded his agreement.

  ‘Of course I now know,’ she went on, ‘that big families are renowned for feuds and all sorts of jealousies not to mention the lack of attention the children lower down the order suffer from.’

  ‘Through sheer weight of exhaustion on the part of their parents,’ he contributed. ‘Perhaps we were luckier than we knew. Talking of it, you look tired.’

  ‘I…’ she suddenly yawned uncontrollably ‘…I’m exhausted all of a sudden.’

  He stood up. ‘Bed, then, Mrs Hewitt.’ He held his hand down to her and helped her up. ‘By the way, you were brilliant throughout that whole unseemly shemozzle.’

  She hesitated then said only, ‘Thanks!’

  ‘This is lovely.’ She looked around the large bedroom that he’d told her would be theirs, but with an odd little inflection in her voice.

  It had a pressed iron high ceiling painted white, creamy yellow walls and yellow and pink floral curtains and bedspread. There was a fireplace and two comfortable armchairs in front of it covered in pink velvet. The furniture was all old, lovely cedar pieces with brass fittings and the bed was vast.

  Their bags, still unpacked, stood on the floor in the middle of the room.

  Lachlan drew the curtains. ‘It was the official guest bedroom,’ he said. ‘But seeing that it’s the nicest bedroom with the best views I decided it should be ours.’

  Clare digested this and realized it was his way of telling her that he and Serena had never used it. At the same time it struck her as a little strange that only last night he was the one who had been concerned about her being hurt or upset by any mention of Serena. Yet, if anything, he was now the one who was balking at any direct mention of his ex-wife.

  She sat down on the end of the bed feeling helpless, but without the will or the strength to sort through all the implications, let alone all the innuendoes the extraordinary day had produced.

  Lachlan studied her for a moment then opened her bag and drew out a nightgown as well as her toilet bag. He handed her the toilet bag and said gently, ‘Clean your teeth and wash your face. The bathroom’s through there.’

  She didn’t argue and came back presently.

  He helped her to undress, sliding the white cotton, pin-tucked nightgown over her head and kissing the tip of her nose as it emerged. Then he turned down the cover and invited her to slip into the bed.

  She hesitated. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘Shortly. I don’t think I could sleep yet and there are a few things I could do but I’ll only be in my study.’

  She got into bed and lay there with her hair spread out on the pillow like dark, rough silk on the crisp yellow pillowcase, and couldn’t resist a little sigh of pleasure. The bed was wonderfully comfortable.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ he said softly.

  She did so.

  ‘Sweet dreams, Mrs Hewitt. I’m right here in the house if you need me.’ He kissed her eyelids, then the light went off and she was alone.

  She turned on her side, slipped her hand under her cheek and wondered why she was so composed. Because she had no doubt there were dark waters lapping between Lachlan and Serena, and something oddly unfinished. Yet it seemed not to touch her directly.

  She couldn’t feel the same hatred Serena so obviously did; there was no bubble of hysteria at the thought that Lachlan might never rid himself of a dangerous attraction to a woman he also despised, or claimed he did. No sheer panic to think that Sean had been the reason for their marriage.

  She curved her hand protectively around her stomach, and felt a series of little taps.

  That’s it, she thought with sudden comprehension as a feeling of wonder flooded her again. She was curiously insulated from it all because of the two lives growing within her.

  She fell asleep and didn’t stir when Lachlan slid in beside her, didn’t stir until sunlight glowed through the curtains.

  ‘I don’t want to rush in
to things,’ May said the next morning, a Sunday, ‘but now you’re the lady of the house perhaps we should discuss them.’

  They were sharing a pot of fragrant coffee after breakfast. Lachlan and Sean had just left them to do an inspection of the estate.

  ‘So if you’d rather have the place to yourself, Clare, you only need to tell me,’ May continued seriously. ‘I would quite understand.’

  ‘May,’ Clare said, ‘I don’t know what arrangement you had with Serena but I’d very much appreciate your staying put! Not only because I like you and know this is more your home than mine—’

  ‘Clare, it isn’t really,’ May said with a troubled expression. ‘I own shares in the family company that runs the estate but Lachlan is the main shareholder and he directly inherited the house and property, so…’

  She paused as if she didn’t quite know how to go on, then said, ‘But although Serena found it convenient to have me run the house while she took most of the glory for it, as well as help with Sean, I very much regret falling into that trap.’

  Clare looked at her wide-eyed.

  ‘I often wonder whether it mightn’t have turned out better if they’d been left to themselves,’ May said, then flinched. ‘I…I…’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Clare said quietly. ‘You don’t have to worry about guarding your tongue all the time. I’m not going to be super-sensitive and silly. But if you’re trying to say that Lachlan and I might be better on our own I can’t answer you yet.’

  ‘I would never forgive myself if it happened again and I had any part in it,’ May said. ‘But then I keep thinking, with twins on the way…’ She stopped and sighed.

  ‘Would it take a whole burden off your shoulders if I said perhaps you’re right and we do need to be on our own?’ Clare said slowly.

  This time May heaved a sigh of relief but murmured anxiously, ‘Are you sure you understand, Clare? I would come back if ever you needed me, I’d definitely come back for a time to help with the babies—’

  ‘May, you will always be a part of Rosemont to my mind, always.’