His Miracle Bride

by Marion Lennox

  ‘I guess it is. I just got cold.’

  He looked worried. But he was standing in the doorway, not coming further. ‘You want more of that whisky?’

  ‘No. I…I shouldn’t.’

  ‘Me neither. But it’s scary how much I want some.’ He shook his head. ‘Hell, Shanni, I’m sorry.’

  ‘You said the gate was locked.’

  ‘That’s what I can’t understand.’ He hesitated, but he still wasn’t coming further into the room. ‘I’ve just double checked. The chain’s been cut with bolt cutters. And someone’s stirred Clyde up. I’m not threatening to turn him into sausages any more. He’s standing against the fence, trembling almost as much as you are. There’s a series of tiny puncture wounds along his flank. I’d suspect something like a peashooter’s been used to hurt him. Normally if you opened Clyde’s gate he wouldn’t even notice it was open. But, if you opened it and started shooting pellets at him, he’d get terrified. He’d lumber into the garden, and if he kept hurting and he didn’t understand why then he’d be likely to attack anything that moved.’

  She was staring at him, horrified. ‘But that’s…that’s criminal. That’s awful.’

  ‘They’ll be aiming at me,’ he said grimly. ‘They’ll assume it’d be me who’d go out and check on cattle loose in the garden. They’d never assume it’d be a seven-year-old.’

  ‘Do they hate you that much?’

  ‘It’s not hate,’ he said grimly. ‘It’s just they don’t know me. I’m a weekend millionaire who stopped a factory going ahead that the community needed. The fact that no one warned me is irrelevant. And now, as well as being rich and stupid and forcing the community to lose its factory, I’m a single dad who Social Welfare has in its sights for child neglect. Yeah, they’d like me to pack up and leave.’

  ‘So why don’t you?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘I…’

  ‘You could go back to your architecture in the city. The kids could go to school and to day care. You could hire a housekeeper easier in the city.’

  ‘It won’t work.’ He shook his head. ‘Or I’m not sure it’d work. Maybe it’ll come to that, but Maureen badly wanted these kids to have space.’

  She hesitated. And then she said, wise for now, ‘Well, at least you have me for a bit.’

  There was a baffled pause. At least, it was baffled on Shanni’s part. Why the silence?

  ‘I think I just offered to be housekeeper,’ she said at last, cautiously. ‘If you want me.’

  ‘I do want you.’

  It was said with such force that she blinked-and then managed a smile. ‘Well, thank you.’

  ‘I can see Ruby in you.’

  That made her blink again. ‘Little and dumpy and wide astern?’

  He smiled at that, grimness easing. ‘I’d never have said wide astern.’

  ‘But I’m little and dumpy.’

  ‘What you did tonight was the bravest…’

  ‘You’re saying that makes up for little and dumpy?’

  He grinned. ‘If I was in the market for a woman, little and dumpy would be the last way I’d describe you.’

  ‘You’re not in the market for a woman?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I guess you’ve got five kids. So you’re not in the market for any more family.’

  ‘I never wanted this much. I sure as hell don’t need a wife as well.’

  How had this conversation happened?

  ‘Just lucky you told me,’ she managed. ‘I was already planning the bridal.’

  It brought him up short. ‘Hell. Shanni, I didn’t mean…’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she told him, relenting ‘I’ve done enough bridal planning for a lifetime.’

  ‘With ice-water Mike.’

  ‘That’s the one. I thought I was in love. How stupid can you be? No more relationships for me.’

  ‘But you’ve told the kids.’

  ‘That I’ll stay for a bit. Yes, I have.’ She took a deep breath, trying to sort things out in her head. ‘I really am in trouble,’ she confessed, deciding to lay it all out. ‘I used every cent I had getting back to Australia, to find my parents had sublet their house. My best friend has a bedsitter smaller than your broom closet. I’ve been out of the country for eight years and there’s no one else I can crash on. Except Ruby and her macramé ladies.’

  ‘It’s some penthouse she’s in,’ Pierce said. ‘Forty squares of luxury overlooking Sydney Harbour.’

  Shanni frowned, suddenly thinking sideways. Ruby…Ruby of the gorgeous sons. Ruby who didn’t have a cent to her name, suddenly swanning in a penthouse in Sydney’s most exclusive harbour-front suburb?

  ‘You gave her the penthouse?’

  ‘We all did. Hasn’t Ruby told you about the rest of her boys?’

  ‘Of course she has.’ She remembered the photograph Ruby carried with her everywhere. Ruby, dotty old Ruby, who’d never had a penny to bless herself with, who’d spent every minute of her life devoted to her boys. ‘Blake, Connor, Sam, Darcy, Dominic, Nikolai. And Pierce,’ she whispered. ‘Do I have them right?’

  ‘That’s us. Ruby’s boys. She took us in, and she hauled every one of us up by the bootstraps. She was left with nothing. For her seventieth birthday we gave her the apartment, The stipulation is that she doesn’t sell it or give it away to freeloaders, and she’s no longer permitted to take in strays.’

  ‘Not permitted?’

  ‘It’s time we started protecting her from herself. If we hadn’t stipulated it, would you be in her guest room?’

  ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘Well, if it wasn’t for the macramé, maybe. She does have the reputation of not turning anyone out.’

  ‘You really are desperate?’

  ‘I can get a job. I guess. The art world’s so small, though. People know my gallery failed.’

  ‘So you’ll accept this job?’

  ‘I guess. For a bit.’

  Why didn’t he come into the room? she wondered. He was standing at the doorway as if afraid to come further.

  ‘I won’t bite,’ she said, but he didn’t smile.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘You’re Ruby’s niece?’

  ‘By marriage, yes.

  ‘Then we’re practically related.’

  ‘Family,’ she agreed and waited.

  ‘Maybe I should say right now…I don’t want any sort of relationship.’

  Her shoulder was hurting. It had been hurting all this while, but she’d forgotten about it for a little. Now it slammed back and it was like he’d slapped her.

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I didn’t mean…’

  ‘You did mean. That’s the second weird comment. Are you expecting me to jump you?’

  ‘No, I-’

  ‘That’s good, because I’m not,’ she snapped. ‘I’m nuts to be here. Seriously, totally barmy. I’d be best throwing myself on the mercy of the parish or whatever indigent people do these days.’

  ‘It’s not really as bad as that.’

  She glared. ‘No,’ she conceded. ‘All I have to do is contact my parents and I’ll be fine. But I’m offering to stay here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Donald was going to tackle that bull all by himself rather than haul you away from his baby sister. Because Wendy’s looking older than her years. Because this house is a mess-this family is a mess-and I need a job, so I might as well do one that’s worth doing. You say you’re wealthy?’

  It was such a change of tack that he blinked. ‘I…Yes.’

  ‘Could you afford to take us all to the beach?’

  ‘The beach?’

  ‘You see, these kids look like they’re expecting the weight of the world to descend on their heads any minute. Or maybe it’s already descended. Have they been away from this place since their mother died?’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘They’ve been sick?’

  ‘Yes, but…’r />
  ‘And it’s school holidays?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There you go, then,’ she said. ‘Take us away. To the beach.’

  ‘How the hell am I going to take five kids-including one chicken-poxed baby-to the beach?’

  ‘I’ll come, too,’ she said patiently. ‘I like the beach. The kids are recuperating from pox, I’m recuperating from mortification and, you need to work.’

  He blinked. Work. He’d practically forgotten about work.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can’t work here,’ she agreed. ‘And the kids are so spooked that I can’t see things changing. So what I suggest is that we hire two apartments for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘One for you and one for me,’ she said. ‘Right on the beach. Somewhere luxurious. See how good I am at spending other people’s money?’

  ‘How would that work?’

  ‘At night I’ll share with the girls and you share with the boys,’ she said. ‘During the day the kids can stay with me, and we’ll play at the beach. If we stay at a decent resort there’ll be babysitters as well, and if we find one who’s had the pox then we can leave Bessy a little. I could really use a week or two at the beach.’

  Whoops.

  Until now it hadn’t been about her. She’d tried really hard to couch this in terms that said she was doing this out of the goodness of her heart.

  But she’d let it out. She heard it the moment her words left her mouth, and she saw Pierce’s face change.

  ‘You want to go to the beach?’

  ‘I had the flu,’ she said ruefully. ‘The morning I found Mike…Well, it was the start of three weeks of being sick. And every single day since then I’ve thought of the beach. Mum and Dad’s house is on the beach north of Sydney. That’s where I was headed. Then tonight I was under that blasted camellia waiting for Clyde to turn me into sausages, and all I could think of was that I hadn’t made it to the beach.’

  His face softened. For a moment-for just a moment-his face changed. He smiled, a lovely gentle smile that made something inside her twist.

  ‘I could lend you money to go the beach by yourself.’ Then he shook his head. ‘No. After all you’ve done for my family today, it’s not a loan. You deserve to have a holiday without us,’

  ‘I may be dumb,’ she said with dignity, shaking her head. ‘But I’m hooked now. All or nothing.’

  ‘You don’t want a long-term commitment to these kids?’

  ‘Are you kidding? Of course I don’t. But a week or two at the beach while we recover…’

  ‘It does sound…’ He dug his hands deep in his pockets and considered. What must he be seeing, she thought. A waif. A dumb, failed art curator with skin that was too pale after too long in England and three weeks of the flu. A woman who’d been rolling round in the garden fighting with a bull. Blood-and dust-spattered. Tear streaked-okay, there might just have been a few tears when no one had been looking…

  ‘I really do need to work,’ he said at last. ‘I mean, yeah, I’m wealthy, but it’s not bottomless. There’s a project I was going to have to renege on. If I could get time on that…’

  ‘We could stay here,’ she admitted. ‘But we all need to bounce a bit.’

  ‘You mean you do.’

  She tilted her chin. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s pure selfishness on my part.’ But then she shook her head. ‘No. I’m looking at Wendy, too. She needs-she needs to be a kid.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’

  ‘So can we go to the beach?’

  ‘How the hell can I organize…?’

  ‘See, here’s the thing,’ she said, apologetically. ‘I might be a failed art curator but I have a splinter skill. It’s called web junkie. You put me in front of an internet connection, and I’ll have us at the beach this time tomorrow. Promise.’

  He stared at her. She stared back. Her shoulder hurt, she thought. And Pierce could see it. He was watching her, but there was something behind his eyes that said he was seeing further than skin deep.

  The beach. Focus on the beach.

  ‘You’re on,’he said at last, so softly she hardly heard him. ‘So, when the kids wake up in the morning…’

  ‘We’ll be packing for the beach. You’d better get that tyre fixed. Though I’ve got my dad’s car. I’ll follow behind. I’m not relinquishing my independence that much.’

  ‘We’ll talk about it in the morning.’ At last he left the door, crossing to where she sat huddled before the fire. ‘Let me help you to bed.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re still shaking.’

  ‘I’m just not used to bulls,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

  ‘No one’s used to a bull like that. He could have killed you. If you hadn’t gone out he may well have killed Donald.’

  ‘Gee, that’s the sort of thing to say to stop me shaking,’ she muttered.

  ‘Shanni, you’re beat.’ He hesitated for a moment and then shrugged, seeming to shake off whatever scruples he might be feeling. Before she knew what he intended, he bent and scooped her up into his arms, holding her close.

  ‘What the-?’

  ‘I’m taking you to bed,’ he told her. ‘But not downstairs. Yeah, that’s Maureen’s room. No one’s been in it since she died. There’s a spare bed in Wendy’s room. I think you’d be better off sleeping with the kids.’

  ‘I’m a grown woman,’ she protested. ‘Hey, Pierce, I’m an independent career woman. Are you putting me to bed with the children?’

  ‘Too right I am,’ he told her. ‘You need company to get you to sleep.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘I’d like to offer my services, but my bed’s already occupied. Me and Bessy-the woman of my dreams.’

  She didn’t protest. He carried her into the spare bed in the girls’ room. He helped her off with what remained of her windcheater. He would have helped her more, but she suddenly woke enough to be independent.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said and suddenly the atmosphere changed. She’d let him cradle her against him as he climbed the stairs. She’d seemed to need his warmth-his strength-but suddenly there was tension.

  He retreated, leaving her to it. She was confused. He could see she was confused-and so was he.

  Back in his bedroom, Bessy slept, which was a mixed blessing. ‘When I’m awake you might as well be awake, too,’ he told her. ‘When I go to sleep that’s when you’ll wail.’ But Bessy wasn’t listening. She had her chubby fist pressed into her mouth and she was seriously sucking her tiny knuckles as she seriously slept.

  He should sleep himself. But too much had happened too fast. His heart rate was still up there, and it wasn’t going to slow down soon.

  When he’d put his hands under the camellia, searching, he’d felt the blood and for a couple of awful moments, until he’d carried her to the veranda and been able to see the extent of the damage, he’d thought the worst.

  Well, his heart rate hadn’t yet settled.

  ‘I do not need someone else to worry about,’ he told the sleeping Bessy. ‘A waif whose boyfriend’s duped her out of her livelihood, whose parents have left her stranded.’

  ‘Are you kidding? She’s a mature woman. Pushing thirty? She has to be. Did you see the way she organized the cleaning? She’s not a kid.’

  ‘It’s the way she looks at me.’

  Bessy stirred and grunted and waved her small fist in the air. He took it, and she wrapped her fingers around his middle finger and clung.

  Domesticity closed in from all sides.

  ‘I should never have bought this house.’

  ‘So sell it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, get out of here at least. Take Miss Bossy Boots to the sea. Give us all a break.’

  He sighed. Sleep was nowhere.

  Miss Bossy Boots was right before him. That awful moment when he’d dragged her out from under the bush, before he’d seen…

  ‘That’s wh
at this is,’ he told himself. ‘It’s horror. And gratitude. She saved Donald.’

  ‘She’s some woman.’

  See, that was just the route his thoughts didn’t want to take. He’d made one mistake in the past. Or two, he admitted, being ruthlessly honest.

  One was buying this place. It had been a dumb-ass romantic gesture. His brothers had made him see how stupid it was.

  The second was his response to Maureen. Maureen, if you’re dying…Hell of course you can bring the kids here. I’ll take care of you.

  And now his life was down the toilet. His work was a disaster. If he didn’t get this project in…

  Miss Bossy Boots had a point. Two apartments.

  But the kids would want to be with him. Or he’d worry if they weren’t. There had to be a solution.

  Beach.

  Kids.

  Castle.

  He sat up so fast that Bessy woke and glared, then grinned in the moonlight and held up her arms for a cuddle.

  ‘Right,’ he said, hugging Bessy obligingly and throwing back the covers. ‘Let’s go look on the internet. Only I’m looking for a very specific place. A place I already know about. A place where I can back off and leave the emotion to trained professionalism.’

  Including how he felt towards Shanni? How he might be feeling, but he was admitting nothing…

  ‘It’s a package deal,’ he told Bessy. ‘Ruby says it’s a place of miracles. Let’s hope she’s right.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHANNI went to sleep in a skinny kid’s bed, with Wendy and Abby sleeping almost within touching distance.

  She woke and the kids’ beds were empty. She could hear voices from downstairs.

  The room was empty.

  She lay and stared at the ceiling, watching early morning sunbeams flicker on the wooden beams of the ceiling. This was the loveliest old farmhouse. She could see why Pierce had wanted it. It was a home.

  The home he’d never had.

  But he didn’t want attachment. He didn’t want marriage. It was like he’d bought the place just so he could bring up stray kids.

  Maureen must have been so relieved to find him.

  Pierce.

  A nice boy…

  He was nice, she thought, still half asleep, drifting in the warmth and comfort of her tiny bed. He was really nice.