Australia Outback Fantasies

by Margaret Way

  ‘This is a nightmare.’ Francesca groaned. ‘I couldn’t face it without you, Bryn.’

  ‘You’re not without me. We’re together.’ Bryn kissed her hard.

  His rage at Carina and her actions would never in a million years drain away. She really shouldn’t be allowed to go free. She deserved jail. But the scandal! Francesca would hate that.

  ‘The best way to get rid of a nightmare like Carina is to banish her somewhere she can’t ever seek to harm you again,’ he said forcefully. ‘She’s always loved Monte Carlo, hasn’t she? All the money and glamour. She can take up residence there. We can’t have a huge scandal. The smartest thing Carina can do is transplant herself to the other side of the world. It’s just big enough. She has the money. She’s in no position to fight us.’

  Francesca lifted her head to stare into his masterful face. ‘This is shocking, Bryn. The most obscene thing possible. Annette could have been killed.’

  ‘Don’t!’ A shudder passed directly from him into her. Fears for the two of them—his mother and the woman he so desperately loved—hadn’t yet subsided.

  ‘I think I know where Gulla’s remains are,’ she said gently.

  ‘Francey!’ He sat there stunned, and more than a little spooked. She’d said it as if it was fact.

  ‘When this is over I’ll show you, as Gulla showed me. His people will want to give him a ceremonial burial.’

  Urgently he pulled her across his knees, burying his face in her neck. ‘Oh, God, Francey, you’re the best, the bravest, the most beautiful woman in all the world.’

  ‘And a little crazy?’ For the first time that evening she smiled.

  ‘Never! You’re protected by the Light.’

  It was something that would draw people to her all her life, Bryn thought, but it was only for him, her future husband, to bask in its flame. Carina was the one who was crazy. The time had come for her to be held responsible—at least in part—for her actions.

  EPILOGUE

  LADY MACALLAN had insisted on giving the official engagement party. The news had swept the city, causing widespread coverage, a deluge of congratulations, expressions of delight and a good many hastily-got-together gala parties.

  The general opinion was that this was the best possible outcome for the Macallan-Forsyth clans. Not only that, the best possible outcome for the city and for the giant state of Western Australia. Many benefits would flow from the union between these two very powerful families.

  It wasn’t all that much of a surprise for the city to learn that Carina Forsyth had decided to quit ‘the backwater of Perth’ for the glamour and culture of Europe. If more than a few people responded with ‘good riddance’, Carina was not to hear it. She had lost no time quitting the country of her birth, with a cold and haughty, ‘I don’t expect to return.’ She would, however, in the fullness of time, marry a bogus Italian prince …

  The beautiful one-shouldered gown Francesca had chosen for her engagement party, a one-of-a-kind silk-satin in a vibrant shade of cerise, couldn’t have been more perfect for such an occasion—nor more perfect as a showcase for her very slender, supple body When she arrived with Bryn at the great, graceful Macallan mansion blazing with joy and pride, Lady Macallan took her aside to pin an heirloom sunburst of diamonds high on the gown’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s gorgeous!’ Francesca breathed, consumed with gratitude. She stared at her glowing reflection in the tall gilded mirror. ‘I love it.’

  ‘It looks wonderful on you!’ Lady Macallan exclaimed, her beautifully coiffed head tipped to one side. ‘And I think I always knew the girl I was going to pin it on.’ She smiled. ‘Welcome to the family, Francey.’ Lightly she kissed Francesca’s cheek. ‘I couldn’t be more happy for you and for Bryn. I adore my grandson. He is the light of my life. And I know he has loved you literally from childhood. Annette and I both knew. What I hadn’t counted on was AAnnette finding a new love to fill her days,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘I expect she and Gordon will be married next, but I insist it’s you and Bryn first.’

  And that was exactly how it happened.

  Charles Forsyth, happily reconciled with his wife, gave his beautiful niece away.

  In front of the altar, with the Archbishop waiting to conduct the ceremony, the bride, exquisite in her bridal gown, a bouquet of white roses in her hand, her smile radiant, and the groom, in his finery a fitting match for his glorious bride, looked at one another with perfect understanding. Their love and happiness was so great it overflowed. It surged down the aisle and along the lavishly beribboned pews, so that the entire congregation was bathed in it, absorbing its wonderful glow.

  Everything was absolutely perfect. Francesca even fancied she saw a shining vision of her parents. They were smiling at her, waving in silent valediction, before merging with the blaze of bejewelled light that poured through the cathedral’s stained glass windows. Knowing herself blessed, Francesca turned her head to smile radiantly into the face of her soon-to-be husband.

  His soul so beautifully complemented her own.

  Love was the elusive key that opened up the door to an earthly happiness that made life complete.

  ADOPTED:

  OUTBACK BABY

  Barbara

  Hannay

  About the Author

  BARBARA HANNAY was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane, and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical North Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.

  In 2007 Barbara won the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award for Best Traditional Romance with Claiming His Family.

  To catch up on all Barbara’s latest news visit www.barbarahannay.com

  PROLOGUE

  A SUMMER’S morning at dawn.

  Nell and Jacob met at their secret place on the sheltered river bank, the only safe place for the boss’s daughter and the hired help.

  Arriving by separate tracks, they tethered their horses at opposite ends of the clearing. Nell was nervous and Jacob was on tenterhooks waiting for her news, but he came towards her proudly, striding through the misty morning light with his shoulders back and his head high, as if he owned the earth.

  A metre from her, he stopped and she read the silent question in his serious grey eyes.

  Too anxious to speak, she simply shook her head, watched the movement in his throat as he swallowed.

  ‘You’re pregnant then,’ he said quietly.

  Nell dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. ‘I’m almost certain.’ She heard his sharp indrawn breath and whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’ And she realised for the first time that she was a little afraid of this tall and ruggedly divine young man.

  Suddenly, she felt as if she didn’t really know him, in spite of the many stolen hours she’d spent with him here during the long, hot weeks of her summer holiday. Pregnancy changed everything, changed something precious and perfect into a shameful mistake. And it forced the two of them to consider a future they weren’t prepared for.

  More than anything, Nell was scared of what her father would do when he found out. His bad temper was beyond volcanic. He would never forgive her for this and she was certain that he would offer her only one option.

  She trembled at the thought, drew a hasty breath for courage. ‘My parents will want me to have an abortion.’

  Jacob’s frown was fierce. ‘You don’t want that, do you?’

  No. She couldn’t bear the thought of terminating a baby they had made. She shook her head.

  ‘You mustn’t do it then, Nell. Don’t even think about it.’ He reached for her hands, threaded his strong, work-toughened fingers through hers and she felt the familiar rasp of the callus on his right palm.

  Beside them, the river ch
attered carelessly and the scent of eucalypts and sheoaks hung heavy in the air.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered again.

  ‘Don’t be.’ Jacob gave her hands a gentle shake. ‘Don’t apologise.’

  Tears stung her eyes. She knew apologies shouldn’t be necessary. From the moment she and Jacob had met on that first afternoon, when she’d returned to Half Moon from university, the blame had been equally shared.

  She’d seen him tending her father’s horses and Cupid had started firing those dangerous little arrows. Their over-the-top attraction had blinded them to anything else, especially to common sense. They hadn’t taken precautions that first time.

  Now, Jacob gathered Nell in to him and his big hand cradled her head against his shoulder. She adored the smell of him—musky and warm and clean—and something very masculine that she couldn’t identify.

  He kissed her brow. ‘Will you marry me, Nell?’

  She gasped, feeling hot and cold with excitement. This was what she’d been longing for, the words from Jacob she’d been silently praying for, secretly clinging to the hope that Jacob would want her and his baby. It was the only way she could possibly face up to her parents.

  With trembling fingers, Jacob traced the curve of her cheek. ‘I’ll look after you, I promise. We’ll be all right.’

  Oh, yes. They’d be all right. Nell had no doubts. Jacob was an excellent stockman, brilliant on horseback, with a deep love of the land. He would find work anywhere in the Outback. She wouldn’t mind too much about giving up her studies and she wouldn’t mind about being poor, not if she was with him.

  Her parents were the only problem.

  They were such painful, painful snobs. They’d only sent her to university to snare a rich husband and World War Three would erupt if Nell announced she was marrying their cook’s son.

  She needed to consider Jacob too, needed to be sure that he was being completely honest. He’d told her about his long-term plans to have his own cattle empire, but that was in the distant future. An early marriage hadn’t figured in his scheme.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Jacob?’

  With his arms about her waist, he leaned back to look at her and he frowned as if this were a matter of life and death. ‘I’ve never been surer, Nell. I know I don’t have much to offer you. You deserve an educated husband, someone rich.’

  It was exactly what her parents might say but, coming from him, it sounded wrong. She opened her mouth to protest, but Jacob hurried on.

  ‘I love you, Nell, I swear. And I promise I’ll look after you. I’ll work hard. I’ll get two jobs. I’ll make enough money for you and the baby and one of these days we’ll have our own place. A big property like Half Moon.’

  He was so determined and defiant and Greek god gorgeous he banished her fears as easily as the sun scattered mist.

  He said again, ‘I love you. You must know that.’

  ‘Yes.’ Smiling through happy tears, she wrapped her arms tightly around him. ‘And I love you so much it hurts.’

  Nell lifted her lips to meet his and they kissed deeply, hungrily. She clung to Jacob, confident that his hard, lean strength would protect her for ever.

  ‘Everything’s going to be wonderful,’ she said and his face broke into a beautiful grin.

  ‘So you’ll marry me?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please. Absolutely.’

  ‘Yes!’

  His sudden, joyful whoop startled a flock of finches in a nearby wattle. With another loud shout of triumph, he hoisted Nell high and their laughter mingled with the birds’ cries as he spun her around and around in happy circles.

  They were going to be married. With their baby, they would be a little family. No one would stop them. All was right with their world.

  Jacob slowed before Nell got too dizzy and he let her back to earth, let her body ride slowly … slowly down his muscled length till she reached where he was hard and she almost burst into flames.

  Again their mouths met, hungrier than ever. Nell poured her heart and soul into the kiss, wanting him to be certain of how intensely, wildly, completely she loved him.

  His hands slipped under her shirt and skimmed lightly over her skin, giving her exquisite shivers.

  Abruptly, the stillness of the summer morning was broken by the sound of a cold metallic click.

  They froze.

  Nell felt Jacob’s heart leap against hers as they turned.

  Her father stood in the shadows, his face flushed with red fury as he shouldered a shotgun and took aim.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE service was over.

  Nell knew she must get up and walk outside, but she wasn’t sure she could trust her legs to carry her. She had never felt so bereft, didn’t know how to cope with the sense of loss.

  It was so much worse today than twenty years ago, when they’d taken Tegan away from her. She had been in hospital then, too ill and medicated to fully understand what was happening. This week, a highway smash that rated a thirty-second mention on the six o’clock news had taken her daughter away from her for ever. Today there was nothing to deaden Nell’s pain.

  Her memories of Tegan were so few. And so cruel. The newborn bundle in her arms, the strong little limbs kicking against the tightly wrapped blanket, just as they had kicked in her womb. The little face and bright, dark eyes. The soft cap of dark hair, the tiny red mouth. The unique, newborn smell of her.

  The memories cut into Nell and she wished she could gather her pain around her and disappear completely. It was a blessing, at least, that everyone’s sympathy had been showered on Jean and Bill Browne, the couple who had adopted Tegan. Nell knew she must go and speak to them, just as soon as she regained her composure.

  ‘Nell?’

  Nell turned stiffly and saw Jean approaching the end of her pew, twisting a damp handkerchief as she peered at her anxiously.

  ‘Jean.’ With a hand on the back of the pew for support, Nell struggled to her feet. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you yet.’

  The two women—adoptive mother and birth mother—stood, facing each other. Jean Browne looked exhausted, her pale blue eyes rimmed with red, her short grey hair flat and lifeless.

  ‘Please—’ The women had met before, on the day after the accident, but now, unable to think clearly, to find the right words, Nell clung to formalities. ‘Please accept my condolences.’

  Jean’s pale eyes swam with tears. ‘This is hard for you, too.’

  ‘Yes.’ Fighting a dull headache, Nell gathered up her handbag and continued along the pew on unsteady legs. ‘I’ve mentioned this to you before, but I want you to know that I’m very, very grateful to you and Bill. You gave Tegan a wonderfully happy home and—and everything she needed.’

  Jean nodded, sent Nell a fleeting, watery smile, then her face crumpled. ‘You were such a help the other day. I’ve been hoping to speak to you. About the baby.’

  Nell pressed shaking fingers to her mouth. She’d broken down completely during the eulogy, when the speaker had mentioned Tegan’s little son, born just a few short weeks ago.

  ‘I had to leave Sam with a sitter today,’ Jean said. ‘But I knew that you would like to see him again, especially as Mr Tucker’s here as well.’

  ‘Mr Tucker?’

  ‘Tegan’s father.’

  If Nell hadn’t been clutching the back of the pew, she would almost certainly have fallen.

  Jacob Tucker was here?

  Had he been here throughout the funeral?

  An unbearable, thrilling, panicky terror gripped her as Jean flicked a sideways glance back down the aisle. Like the needle of a magnet, Nell whirled around and there was Jacob, standing at the back of the chapel, near the door, tall and stern, with his shoulders back.

  His face was partly in shadow but there was no mistaking his chiselled features. All trace of the smooth-skinned boy had vanished, but his strong brows and nose, the handsome cleft in his chin, were still, after twenty years, painfully familiar.

/>   He was wearing a dark suit but, despite the city clothes, the Outback clung to him like a second skin. It was there in the tan on his skin, in the hard-packed leanness of his body, in the creases at his eyes, in the way he stood, poised for action.

  And there was a roughness about him now that was unsettling. Devastating.

  Nell could still remember with perfect clarity the first time she’d seen him in her father’s stables, remembered the shock of attraction that had startled her, enslaved her. She remembered, too, the awful morning on the river bank, the last time she had seen him.

  Apart from the occasional photo in cattlemen’s magazines—and yes, she’d scanned them regularly, hungry for any news of Jacob Tucker—she knew next to nothing about his life. He’d become a very successful grazier, but there had been no contact between them in twenty years so his private life was a blank.

  ‘I’ve already spoken to Mr Tucker,’ Jean said.

  On cue, from the back of the chapel, Jacob offered Nell an unsmiling, almost imperceptible dip of his head.

  Her heart pounded. Now she could see the expression in his eyes, the way he looked at her with a mixture of pain and contempt.

  She tightened her grip on the back of the pew. With another despairing glance at Jacob, she turned back to Jean. ‘I’m sorry. What were you saying?’

  ‘I thought Mr Tucker might like to meet Sam. And I wanted to talk to you both, if possible. I have a problem, you see.’

  A stranger, a woman in a green felt hat, bustled into the chapel. ‘Oh, there you are, Jean. Sorry, we thought we’d lost you.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Jean told her, then she turned quickly back to Nell. ‘I can’t talk for very long now. I’ve got to take Bill home and collect the baby from the sitter. But there’s something I need to discuss with you. And Mr Tucker.’