“I can’t believe it,” Claire said softly.

“The doctors always told us that if we put babies out of our minds, one might turn up unexpectedly, but I bet they never guessed it would happen this way.”

“This wasn’t how I pictured it, either,” Adam replied.

After a few more minutes of gazing at the baby, she said, “Come and say hello to our little boy. He’s so cute!”

“Don’t get carried away, sweetheart. There’s no way we can just assume the baby is ours….”

Will they…?

Won’t they…?

Can they…?

The possibility of parenthood: for some couples it’s a seemingly impossible dream. For others, it’s an unexpected surprise.…Or perhaps it’s a planned pregnancy that brings a husband and wife closer together…or turns their marriage upside down?

One thing is for sure, life will never be the same when they find themselves having a baby…maybe!

This emotionally compelling miniseries from Harlequin Romance® will warm your heart and bring a tear to your eye.…

Their Doorstep Baby

Barbara Hannay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Colleen

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

Early December—Sydney

ADAM TOWNSEND knew something was wrong. Very wrong. The moment he heard Claire’s hasty footsteps enter the room he sensed it. Then he looked up and saw her deathly white face.

Even her lips were bleached of colour and her dark eyes shimmered with tears as she stared at him. She was clutching the timber door frame for support. What had happened? She looked ill—as fragile as a porcelain doll.

‘Claire, what’s the matter?’ He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the cries of protest from his little nephews as he abandoned their noisy game of wrestling. ‘What on earth’s happened?’

‘I think I’ve made a terrible mistake,’ she whispered and her words brought fear clenching in his stomach like a cold and clammy fist.

Was this the moment he’d been dreading for weeks now? Had his wife’s growing unhappiness finally pushed her to say something she’d regret? To do something they’d both regret?

‘What kind of mistake?’ he forced himself to ask.

But she seemed unable to answer. Her face crumpled as she shook her head and then she turned and left as quickly as she’d appeared.

‘Stay here, guys,’ he ordered the three little boys.

His heart rocketed into overdrive as he followed Claire’s stumbling progress back through her brother Jim’s shabby cottage to the kitchen.

Jim and his wife Maria were both there, looking just as shocked and upset as Claire. Maria leant against her husband, one hand pressed to her mouth while the other held a slim rectangle of paper.

Adam recognised it instantly as a bank cheque and he had a sickening premonition that he could guess exactly what this was all about.

Maria’s lips quivered. ‘The baby,’ she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘Claire has given us a cheque for Rosa.’

With an angry grunt, Jim shoved the cheque under Adam’s nose and his heart leapt when he saw an alarming string of zeros. He whirled around to face Claire. ‘You want to give all this to the baby?’

‘Yes,’ Claire said softly, but she didn’t look at Adam and he knew why. She hadn’t consulted him about this decision. Normally, they discussed everything—certainly anything as important as handing over such a large sum of money to Jim and Maria Tremaine’s tiny, new daughter; the fifth baby the couple had produced in as many years.

‘I wanted to help,’ she told him and her voice seemed to crack beneath the weight of overpowering emotion.

‘Come off the grass, sis,’ Jim cried. ‘You didn’t just want to help. Tell Adam the whole story.’

Claire’s lips trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘It’s—it’s a kind of exchange.’

Oh, God! Adam’s stomach dropped like a plane falling out of the sky. Sweetheart, you can’t be doing this!

‘An exchange for Rosa,’ Maria clarified and then burst into tears.

‘It’s crazy!’ Jim yelled. ‘She wants to buy our baby!’

‘I just wanted to help—to help you out.’ Claire’s tormented eyes sought Adam’s. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

Bewildered, he shook his head. This disaster had happened in the ten short minutes he’d spent playing with his nephews. It was almost too much to take in. He’d never felt so torn. Part of him wanted to throw his arms around Claire and offer her comfort, but he also wanted to shake her.

Heaven knew, she was at the end of her tether, but this…She should never have done this.

‘How could you want to take our little daughter away from us?’ Jim glared.

Beside him, Maria continued to cry quietly.

Claire looked even more distressed. ‘I thought—you have to struggle so hard to support so many children—and I—we—could give Rosa such a good home.’

Jim scowled. ‘You two think we’re in dire straits just because we don’t eat caviar and smoked salmon and can’t go gadding off to Europe whenever we flaming well feel like it?’

His jaw clenched stubbornly and he stepped closer to Maria and flung an arm across her shoulders. Drawing her against him, he planted a possessive kiss on her forehead.

Now Adam felt wretched that he hadn’t shown Claire the same kind of solidarity. If anyone needed comforting, it was his wife. Despite his shock, he understood the wild, pitiful desperation that had driven her to this.

But if only she had spoken to me first.

She stood in the kitchen doorway looking miserable, guilty and lost with her arms wrapped across her stomach. And she continued to avoid his gaze.

But then her chin rose and she looked back at her brother with the same stubborn glare he’d fixed on her. ‘I’d give up any luxury, any trip to Europe for a baby. You know how badly I want a baby of my own.’

Jim let out his breath noisily. ‘Yeah, sis. I know it’s rough on you.’ He waved the cheque at her. ‘But this—’ Sadly, he shook his head. ‘This is completely crazy. Apart from anything else, it’s illegal.’

Then he held the cheque in both hands and slowly, deliberately ripped it into two pieces and then into four. He crossed the kitchen to the waste paper basket and let the pieces of paper flutter from his hand.

A choked cry broke from Claire’s stricken lips. She turned to Adam. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,’ she sobbed as she staggered across the room towards him. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. What an awful, awful mess I’ve made.’

As she fell into his arms, one thought filled Adam’s head: I share the blame for this. The writing has been on the wall and I should have seen it coming.

Five weeks earlier—thirty-seven thousand feet above the Indian Ocean

Claire wanted to kiss him now. Right now.

It wasn’t the best moment to get such an urge. She was surrounded by other first class passengers and there were still many tedious hours left in the long flight from Sydney to Rome. Too much time to be plagued by wicked fantasies about the gorgeous man sitting right next to her.

She sighed as she studied his handsome, suntanned face. He was asleep and his head had fallen sideways so that his lips were temptingly close to hers.

Fixing her eyes on his sensuous mouth, she inched even closer and felt heat swell in her like a gathering storm. How badly she wanted to wake this man with a gentle kiss.

No, make that a hot and hungry kiss.

While she stared at him, her mind toyed with playful thoughts. She imagined the manly roughness of his overnight beard against her cheek, the silky feel of the dark hair that flopped across his brow, the delicious thrill of tracing her lips over the intriguing cleft in his chin.

Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, this wonderful creature would pick up on her thought waves. He might sense her intense interest and respond by taking her in his arms.

To heck with the other passengers.

As if on cue, his eyes opened and he smiled at her slowly. She couldn’t resist leaning closer and immersing herself in the surprisingly deep, deep blue of his gaze.

‘Hi there,’ he said softly and he didn’t move away.

‘Hello.’

His eyes, edged by friendly laughter lines, were even more attractive than his mouth. Claire shivered with pleasure as they stared at each other.

With a little luck, her handsome neighbour would be blessed with an intuitive perception to match his good looks and he would kiss her within the next thirty seconds.

Her face grew hot with anticipation. Her breathing picked up pace.

If he doesn’t kiss me now…

The gods were smiling. He reached towards her and his hands gently cradled her cheeks.

Thank heavens…

The laughter lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled at her while his approving gaze assessed her hair and face, finally focusing on her mouth. ‘Do you always look this good in the—’ quickly he glanced at his wristwatch ‘—in the afternoon?’

‘Of course,’ she replied in a breathy little voice, ‘but I look even better in the morning.’

‘How promising.’

He kissed her. And, boy, could he kiss! His lips were tender…and teasing. His mouth was tantalising…and…his kiss was slow…she was drowning…just a little dizzy…she’d been wanting this so much.

‘Mr and Mrs Townsend?’

Claire and Adam sprang apart. A flight attendant, carrying a tray of glasses filled with champagne, stood in the aisle beside them. Her expression was polite, although her eyes danced with curiosity. ‘Would you care for a little celebration? We’re about to cross the Equator.’

‘Champagne?’ Claire asked shakily. ‘Why not?’ She struggled to sit sedately and her hands flew to her cloud of blonde hair.

Adam reached past her and accepted their glasses of pale, fizzing wine. The attendant hovered for a moment, eyeing him with frank interest before moving on.

Clinking his glass against Claire’s, Adam murmured, ‘Here’s to my audacious and irresistible wife. Happy holiday.’

‘Happy holiday,’ Claire replied softly.

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, ‘You were pretending we’d just met, weren’t you?’

‘You pretended you didn’t know how I look in the afternoon. You were happy to play your part,’ she reminded him.

‘Of course I was. More than happy.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s hope this holiday gives us a chance to play out all your fantasies.’

Then he kissed her again.

She smiled and, sinking back into the upholstered seat, sipped her champagne. How lucky she was. Eight years of marriage to a gorgeous, sexy man. How lucky they both were that their marriage was so special, an equal partnership and yet so much fun.

Passionate lovers, best of friends, happy travelling companions, sharing joint interests in Nardoo, their outback cattle property…on every level their relationship was perfect.

On almost every level.

The negative thought came, as it always did, like an unexpected and vicious attack from behind. Claire set her glass on the tray in front of her and her hand was already shaking.

Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the sudden, sickening sadness that threatened. Not now. She didn’t want to think about that now. She and Adam were embarking on a special, wonderful holiday.

They both loved Italy. And this time, when Adam finished his meetings with European beef importers, they were planning to linger in Florence…Venice…Rome…absorbing the magnificent art, the splendid cathedrals, the restaurants and the music. It was going to be superb and she wanted to stay buoyed up and happy.

Silently she repeated the mantra that had been echoing in her head for days now. It’s going to happen this time. I’m going to fall pregnant. By the time we get home, I’ll be pregnant. And once again she promised herself that she wouldn’t allow a single negative thought to spoil the holiday.

Surely the relaxing weeks ahead would work their magic…

Surely this month…this time…

‘Are you OK?’ Adam asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to look his way when she knew that, despite her hopeful thoughts, her eyes were already filming with the threat of annoying tears. Think about something else, woman! Anything else! Don’t spoil things now!

Reaching into the pocket in the seat in front of her, she pulled out the murder mystery she’d bought at the airport bookshop in Sydney. The story was rather good and it was just getting to the thrilling climax. With a little luck it would divert her mind away from that dreaded subject.

She’d used her boarding pass as a bookmark and now she opened at chapter ten and, taking another deep sip of champagne, began to read.

Adam stood on the elegant balcony of their hotel suite and stared thoughtfully at the dignified old city stretched before him. Rome at night was like a prima donna commanding centre stage.

There couldn’t be a place on earth more different from the wide, open plains and grey-blue-green bush of his home in western Queensland. Here there was so much man-made grandeur. So much power had been won and lost within this city’s ancient walls.

He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his big shoulders, trying to ease the lingering tension in his muscles after the long trip.

His athletic build was testimony to the hard life he lived in the Australian outback. He was used to the physical demands of running thousands of head of cattle on ten thousand square kilometres of wilderness. Sitting for hours cooped up on a plane left him feeling restless.

From behind him came the sounds of splashing. Claire was in the luxurious en suite bathroom, relishing a long, soothing soak in scented bath oils.

He smiled and thought about joining her. But as he stepped back through the French doors into their bedroom, slap bang on top of that pleasant thought came an unwelcome surge of anxiety. Was Claire pinning too much hope on this holiday? He had a horrible suspicion that her whole focus on this trip away would be to produce a baby.

If it didn’t happen…?

He drew a huge breath, holding it for long seconds and letting it go noisily. The doctor had warned them not to expect too much. There was every chance this holiday wouldn’t produce the result Claire longed for and he was finding it harder and harder to console her when the baby blues struck.

He groaned. Damn it, he should be able to comfort his wife.

He loved Claire.

How could he not love her? She was lovely to look at and even lovelier to hold.

And the things he’d learned about her since their marriage had proved that she was his perfect life partner. Her delight in passionate lovemaking was an ongoing miracle, but, even more miraculously, she shared his intense interest in their property, Nardoo.

Most importantly, she was his best mate. She was fun!

After eight years, he knew and cherished every quirky detail of her personality and he’d always felt their relationship was rock solid in spite of their intense disappointment at not being able to have a baby of their own.

But just lately he’d felt a niggle of fear that perhaps Claire didn’t love him quite as completely as he loved her. He tried to tell himself he was wrong. How could he doubt her feelings after all these years?

He knew she loved him. She showed it in so many ways.

But her need for a baby was becoming desperate.

Heaven knew, he’d wanted a baby, too. In the bleak months that had followed his parents’ death in a light plane crash, the possibility that he and Claire would produce future generations of Townsends to inherit Nardoo had provided a measure of consolation.

But when the likelihood of babies had grown increasingly slim, he’d come to terms with that disappointment. He refused to give up hope, but he also knew that as long as he had Claire, he could still be happy.

She didn’t seem to feel that way. Lately, her longing was bordering on obsession, as if the idea of having a baby was the single most important thing in her life.

And more frequently these days, it left Adam feeling on the outside.

There was a click behind him and the bathroom door slid open. Claire, wrapped in a huge cherry-red bath towel, came slowly towards him across the thick cream carpet.

Her loose curls were caught on top of her head by a chunky plastic clip. Her face, cleaned of all make-up, looked fresh and astonishingly beautiful.

With gentle fingers, she reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You look a bit down in the mouth. Are you OK?’

‘Sure,’ he said, turning to kiss the inner curve of her hand. ‘Just tired.’

‘Long flights are the pits, aren’t they?’ She kept her hand there, cupping his face as she traced her thumb slowly along his jaw and he saw her mouth quirk into a secretive, sexy little smile.

‘It’s too bad you’re tired,’ she said softly as she trailed her hand down from his jaw to the inside of his open-necked shirt.

Her deep brown eyes were lit by a purposeful light. They glimmered, seductive and teasing. The message was unmistakable and Adam’s thoughts scrambled instantly.

Desire pulsed and surged through him. ‘Did I mention the word tired?’ he asked with a slow grin. ‘Of course, I’m not tired at all, but I’ll take a shower.’

‘You can shower later.’

Laughing, loving her, Adam reached forward, but with a playful laugh of her own she suddenly slipped daintily out of his reach and raised a hand to halt him.

‘Whoa, there!’ she teased, smiling.

She raised her other hand, undid the clasp that secured the knot of curls and slowly shook her soft blonde hair free. Then, just as slowly, she tossed the clip in the air. It bounced behind her onto the carpet as she propped both her hands on her hips and arched her back so that her breasts thrust cheekily forward.

Adam’s insides took a tumble-turn as the loose knot holding her towel slipped undone and it slid past her hips to the floor.

‘Ah—that feels better,’ she murmured.

His grin collapsed. With a breathless growl he closed the gap between them, and this time Claire offered no resistance when he hauled her close.

Hungrily, his hands found the lush curves of her naked bottom and he pulled her hard against the clamouring need of his arousal. ‘This feels a whole lot better,’ he assured her.

Claire’s fingers worked nimbly to undo the buttons of his shirt. ‘We’ll feel even better when you get rid of these.’

Oh, yes! ‘My wife is a shameless hussy,’ he murmured against her neck. She smelled so good—of something exotic—maybe sandalwood and flowers.

‘You’re not complaining, are you?’

‘Not a word of complaint, sweetheart.’ Not one single word!

His body throbbed with an almost painful urgency as he walked her backwards towards the enormous bed. When they reached it, their gazes meshed and Claire gave a little cry of excited surprise as he pushed her gently, so that she fell to the mattress with a light bounce.

With the briefest shrug of his shoulders, the shirt she’d unbuttoned dropped to the floor and he smiled down at her as she lay on the bed, her skin still glowing from the bath. After eight years, he would never grow tired of looking at this woman.

Flaring heat mounted even more insistently in his loins as he undid his belt buckle.

And watched her.

Watched her watching him…while he unsnapped the fastener on his jeans. Her eyes smouldered with a familiar, heated promise as his jeans and boxer shorts slid to the floor.

But then he paused.

For a tantalising, breathless minute, he delayed touching her while he deliberately took his time, delighting in a slow visual appreciation of her loveliness.

Her hair shimmered like a softly glowing candle against the midnight-blue silk of the bedspread. Her chocolate-brown eyes were dark with longing, her soft mouth was slightly parted to reveal a glimpse of white teeth. An impatient pulse beat in the delicate hollow at the base of her pale throat.

‘Do I still look OK in the evenings?’ she asked, huskily. His breath caught with a sharp in-drawn hiss as his gaze rested on the pretty, feminine lushness of her pink-tipped breasts and the smooth, pale skin of her slim waist, then, finally, her softly rounded hips and thighs, her long, slender legs.

‘You know you’re quite something,’ he said, his voice sounding as low and choked as hers. ‘In the mornings you look very OK. In the afternoons you look exceptionally OK, but in the evenings you look so OK I can’t think straight.’

‘So…’ Her eyes flashed a cheeky challenge. ‘Stop thinking.’

Her gaze slid down his body, returning his appraising look with one of her own. ‘You look much more than OK,’ she announced with a proprietorial grin. ‘You look sensational.’ Her arms reached out to him. ‘And, my dear man, you’re all mine.’

Supporting his weight with his hands on either side of her, he lowered his head to kiss her. They reached towards each other and their mouths met. Their lips and tongues merged and the kiss felt hauntingly familiar—lingering and loving—like a mixture of all their yesterdays.

‘You’re so right, my girl,’ he whispered. ‘I’m all yours. Only yours.’

‘That’s so good to know.’

He kissed her again and this kiss quickly turned feverish—deep and blazing—as full of alluring promise as tomorrow.

And at last, as his hands, trembling with desire, laid claim to her feminine bounty, he caressed her, loving her with the bold assurance of a man who understood completely all the intimate ways his woman longed to be touched.

From beneath half-shut lids, he saw Claire’s cheeks grow more flushed and he heard the soft moan of her excitement. He felt her hips lift and arch and his stomach took off in a high, curving dive.

‘Oh, Adam,’ she whispered. ‘Love me. I need you so badly.’

And faced with that sweet command, Adam let any shadowy doubts roll away.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I’VE lit a candle to St Anthony.’ Claire’s face shone as she joined Adam at the little sidewalk café.

They had spent three weeks in Europe now, first attending a series of conferences and seminars in various centres and then exploring northern Italy. Now they were spending half a day in Padua before catching a train across to Florence.

Adam had been wandering through the grounds of Padua’s famous university while Claire visited yet another church.

‘Any particular reason you chose St Anthony?’ he queried as a waiter served them coffee and pizza.

‘I found a brochure that says many infertile couples pin their hopes on him. They come to his church here in Padua especially.’ She reached forward and gripped Adam by the arm. ‘It claims that St Anthony has performed many amazing miracles. Maybe you should have come with me.’

Adam suppressed an urge to comment and took a deep draft of scalding coffee instead. He feared their holiday wasn’t working out quite as well as he’d hoped. Sure, Claire was enjoying the sights, she was bright and lively company.

But she’s not letting go!

On this trip she was meant to be following their doctor’s advice—relaxing completely—forgetting about the urgent need to prove her fertility.

The doctor had been quite firm. ‘You’ll stand a better chance if you can take things more calmly,’ he’d told them. ‘Some people can try too hard for a baby. Sometimes an intense yearning for a positive result can have the opposite effect.’

But Claire seemed to be more focused on her infertility than ever. If she wasn’t lighting candles in churches, she was buying expensive gifts for her sister-in-law Maria, or her children.

She’d spent hours selecting toys or clothes she would have loved to buy for her own child, if she’d had one.

As far as he could tell, she hadn’t bought anything for herself. In Venice, she’d found an exquisite glass angel and he’d thought she was going to indulge herself.

‘Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?’ she cried and her eyes glowed with joy.

Picturing it on the mantelpiece in Nardoo’s homestead, he agreed.

But as Claire carried it back to their hotel, she said, ‘I’m going to give this angel to Maria. I know she’d love it. And when we stop in Siena, I want to buy her a panettone. I’m sure she’d love an authentic Italian Christmas cake.’

What bothered him most about Claire’s preoccupation with Maria and her children was that he knew what lay behind it. Any day now, their sister-in-law was due to give birth to her fifth baby. Five kids!

It seemed she and Jim hadn’t yet figured out how those little ankle-biters started.

Claire tried to pretend that she wasn’t jealous of Maria—that she was happy for the younger woman. But Adam was quite sure that, beneath the cheery façade, she was growing more depressed and miserable.

And there was too damn little he could do about it.

The train journey to Florence took them through the beautiful hills of Tuscany. As the countryside rushed past them in a late autumn blur of red and gold flashes, Claire relaxed with her head on Adam’s broad shoulder and admired the spectacle through the train’s window.

But her heart set up a fretful pumping when the mobile phone in his coat pocket suddenly beeped. She swung upright, and her fingers dug into her palms as she watched him retrieve the phone. She studied his face carefully while he listened to his caller.

It could be simply a business call, but she fancied she could hear Jim’s voice. Her brother always felt he had to shout when he dialled long distance.

After a long period of listening, Adam said, ‘That’s great. Congratulations, mate. Thanks for letting us know and give our love to Maria.’

Her face flamed as he depressed the button and looked at her with eyes awash with gentle concern. ‘Maria’s had a little girl.’

‘How lovely,’ she whispered. ‘What are they going to call her?’

‘Rosa.’

To her dismay, she burst into tears. ‘Rosa is such a s-sweet name,’ she sobbed. ‘Another little g-girl. Oh, Adam, they have five babies. I don’t think I can bear it.’

Desperately, she tried to stem the flow of tears, but it seemed impossible. How embarrassing! Passengers were staring at her. But she couldn’t stop crying and the view of the beautiful Tuscan countryside was completely obscured.

Adam held her tenderly and she was so grateful for that, especially as she knew he couldn’t really understand how she felt. No one seemed to understand what it was like to be jealous of people who had babies and then to feel guilty about that jealousy.

Adam could never really understand her awful sense of emptiness, as if she had a great gaping void inside her. He didn’t know the way her arms ached to hold a little warm baby.

He’d always been incredibly matter-of-fact and fatalistic about their situation. He’d gone through all the horrible, invasive tests with her, but when they’d been told there was nothing medically wrong with either of them—that there was nothing operable or treatable the doctors could correct—Adam had accepted the news.

For him it was easy to accept that if a pregnancy was meant to happen it would, if not, so be it. But for Claire it was much harder. She was so attuned to her cycles. Her physical and emotional awareness of her own body was so intense that each month, when she knew she’d failed yet again, she felt frozen inside.

She hated that feeling of emptiness. Of failure. She dreaded it. And she was so scared it was going to happen again.

After an age, she was able to lift her damp face from Adam’s shoulder, to wipe her tears and paste a brave smile on her face. But then she was swamped by a fresh wave of remorse. Poor Adam! She was wrecking his holiday with such hysterical carryings on.

By the time they reached Florence, she was determined not to mention Maria’s baby—or anyone’s baby, for that matter. Over the next few days, she riveted her attention on Adam and on the wonderfully rich feast of art in the cathedrals, the piazzas and the galleries.

She and Adam shared happy kisses on the Ponte Vecchio, the romantic bridge crossing the River Arno that had inspired poets for centuries. They held hands as they strolled and lingered through the straw markets.

In the evenings they ate out, sharing exquisite meals like gnocchi gorgonzola that melted in their mouths, and they drank rich red Italian wine. Back at their hotel, they made love long into the night.

On the morning they were to leave for Assisi, she went to the bathroom and saw the stain she’d been dreading.

No! Oh, Lord, no! It couldn’t be.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she let the tears fall. She tried desperately to cry quietly. She didn’t want Adam to hear her. But she couldn’t bear the disappointment.

Her prayers hadn’t been answered. Their relaxing holiday hadn’t helped. Once again, her world had stopped.

Another chance lost.

Eight years of marriage without a baby.

It was some time before she felt strong enough to come out of the bathroom. Adam looked at her sharply. ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

She couldn’t speak at first, but she nodded.

‘Are you sure, Claire? You don’t look well.’

‘I’m fine. Really I am.’ She was not going to make a fuss about this. Adam didn’t deserve to be subjected to her fits of depression. Fighting back a fresh threat of tears, she hurried towards the doorway, mumbling that there was one last thing she wanted to buy.

He caught her hand as she passed. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’

‘No,’ she answered hastily, shaking her hand free again. ‘You finish your packing. I’m just going to Via Ghibellina. There’s something I saw in a little shop there. I won’t be long.’

With a gentle touch, he brushed his finger down her cheek and his eyes held hers.

He knows. Claire looked away, afraid to let him see how upset she felt.

‘You know, you’re the prettiest girl in this whole damn town,’ he said with an encouraging smile.

‘Sure,’ she replied and managed a hasty answering grimace that she hoped would pass for a smile.

Hurrying out of the hotel and through the streets, she took deep breaths and forced herself to calm down. The tiny pink layette hand-stitched by nuns was still there in the shop window. Yesterday, she’d almost bought it to put away with the things she was keeping for her baby. If only she’d bought it then!

Now it was too late. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to keep it. Today she was buying it for Rosa.

The old woman in the shop wrapped the dainty garments very carefully in blue and white tissue paper. Claire carried the parcel back to the hotel and didn’t show it to Adam. But she was aware of him watching her, silent and frowning, as she slipped it into her suitcase along with the presents she’d selected for the rest of Jim’s family.

‘I’m packed and ready,’ she said when she finished, but for the life of her she couldn’t manage another smile.

‘Auntie Claire! Uncle Adam!’

‘Mum, they’re here!’

Claire could hear the excited cries of her nephews even before she and Adam made their way across the porch, past the row of dead pot plants, to the front door of Jim and Maria’s house in suburban Sydney.

This stopover in Sydney before travelling another two thousand kilometres to Nardoo had been her idea. She knew Adam was having second thoughts about the wisdom of visiting Jim’s family. He was worried that seeing the new baby would get her worked up. But she was determined to be strong.

The last few days in Italy had been wonderful and she’d worked hard to get over her disappointment. Now that they were home again, she would get on with her life. She would calmly congratulate Jim and Maria on the newest addition to their family and hand over the gifts. And that would be all. No fuss. No tears.

Before she could knock against the peeling paint, the door opened and a trio of eager little faces beamed up at them.

‘Hello, darlings!’ Claire bent low, opened her arms to Tony, Luke and Toto and was swamped with boisterous hugs and kisses. ‘My, look at you. You’re all growing far too quickly.’

Over their heads she saw her sister-in-law, Maria, coming towards her with her sweet toddler Francesca in her arms. Claire kissed Maria and thought she looked pale and tired. How could she not be tired with this house full of demanding little people?

And now there was another.

She entered the house and looked around her, her stomach bunching nervously. She could do this! There was no sign of a bassinet and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

When Tony had been born, the bassinet had stayed proudly in this front room so that every visitor had to tiptoe and whisper while they admired Jim and Maria Tremaine’s son and heir.

She guessed that the new baby must be tucked away from her noisy brothers and sister, asleep in a back bedroom.

Behind her, Adam piled the gifts they’d brought onto a coffee-table, while Tony and Luke tried to tackle him to the floor for their favourite uncle sport—wrestling. He’d always been a great hit with his nephews.

‘Hold on, tigers, let me say hello to your mother first,’ he said, laughing.

As he ducked his dark head to kiss Maria’s cheek, Claire noticed that even her careworn sister-in-law brightened with a spark of feminine interest.

Adam always had an instantaneous effect on women—any woman, any age—and every time Claire saw it, she marvelled that she’d been the lucky one he’d wanted to marry.

‘Jim’s probably still fighting his way through the peak-hour traffic, but, please, sit down,’ Maria said.

Claire wanted to ask about the new baby, but instead she took her seat and pointed to the gifts. ‘We brought you some souvenirs that can’t wait till Christmas and there’s a panettone from Siena.’

An image of the narrow, ancient, cobbled streets of Siena, dark and crowded in by tall medieval buildings, flashed through her mind as she handed Maria the boxed traditional cake and she felt a pang of sympathy for her brother’s wife, who had never seen the fascinating homeland of her family.

‘Thank you,’ Maria said, waiting until her guests were seated before she took her place in an old lounge chair. ‘Did you like Italy?’ She frowned as she tried to poke some stuffing back through a tear in the upholstery.

‘We loved it,’ Claire said gently. ‘We’ve brought you lots of photos.’

The children, their dark eyes big with excitement, crowded closer and it seemed as good a time as any to hand out all the things she and Adam had brought for the family. For the next few moments there was a flurry of unwrapping and cries of delight.

Maria set Claire’s gift, the delicate Venetian glass angel, on the sideboard and Claire felt a stab of discomfort as she noticed that it looked sadly out of place next to the roughly painted nativity scene the children had made from play dough. In this little house, it suddenly looked as unsuitable and showy as an exotic orchid in a bunch of humble field daisies.

The little layette she’d bought in Florence was left till last.

‘This is for the baby,’ Claire said, handing Maria the slim parcel wrapped in tissue paper and hoping no one noticed how her hands shook.

‘Oh,’ gasped Maria as she pulled the tissue aside and drew out the contents. She held the dainty garments out in front of her. ‘How—how exquisite.’

Tony ran to his mother’s side. ‘Rosa will look like a baby princess.’

Claire and Adam exchanged a quick glance and Claire read mild concern in her husband’s eyes. She looked again at the delicate baby clothes trimmed with exquisite hand-stitched embroidery and then at her sister-in-law’s simple cotton dress that had gone out of fashion at least five summers ago.

Her eyes strayed to the hovering circle of happy, bright-eyed children. Their feet were bare and they all wore obvious hand-me-downs—tee shirts and shorts, faded from much washing.

Claire compressed her lips tightly as she realised how impractical she’d been. Maria wouldn’t have time to hand wash and take special care of this delicate baby wear. Rosa would no doubt spend her first long, sizzling summer in their hot little box of a house, dressed in little more than a nappy and a cotton singlet.

‘I couldn’t resist it,’ she said weakly.

‘It’s beautiful. Thank you so much. Rosa will wear it to mass on Christmas Day and be the best-dressed baby in Sydney.’

Maria’s eyes shone warmly and Claire felt a little better. She looked again to Adam for support, but he’d finally succumbed to a wrestling match on the floor with Tony and Luke. The two boys were gleefully bouncing on top of him while little Toto watched and cheered.

Before she could indulge in second thoughts about the suitability of her gifts, a lot of things happened quickly. Jim strolled through the front door with a six-pack of beer under his arm. Toto tried to join the wrestling, banged his head on the corner of the coffee table and began to bellow loudly. The telephone rang and a tiny little wail sounded from down the hallway.

After a quick ‘Hi, sis,’ and a peck on the cheek, Jim dealt with the phone call. Only Maria could console Toto.

‘Would you like me to see to the baby?’ Claire asked.

Maria looked at her over the top of Toto’s curly head. Her eyes were underlined by heavy, dark circles. She looked dreadfully tired. ‘Thanks,’ she mouthed above her little boy’s wails.

And as Claire crossed the room before heading down the hall she fancied she saw tears in Maria’s eyes.

The baby’s cries were coming from the main bedroom at the back of the house. As soon as Claire entered the darkened room, her eyes flew to the bassinet in the corner by the curtained window.

Making her way around the bed, she stepped over a mattress on the floor. No doubt it was where Francesca slept. Then she held her breath as she saw the tiny form in the basket.

Rosa Claire Tremaine, just a few weeks old.

She couldn’t help her reaction. Her throat grew painfully choked and her eyes brimmed with a rush of hot tears as she stepped closer.

The little baby lay on her side in the simple, unadorned crib. There wasn’t even a ribbon threaded through the cane work and, as Claire had guessed she would be, the tiny girl was dressed in a simple white singlet and nappy.

Her little face was red and screwed up with the effort of crying. Claire stared at her, taking in every detail. Her head was covered by the sweetest cap of fuzzy brown hair—her dainty little limbs, hands and feet, were pink and perfect, as were her ears. Her little chest was rising and falling.

Rosa was a miniature miracle.

‘Such a sad little girl,’ Claire cried as she bent down and carefully lifted the sobbing baby. Her heart swelled with emotion as she held the warm, minuscule body against her. She supported Rosa’s weight with one hand, while her other hand gently stroked her super-soft skin.

Almost immediately the cries subsided into little snuffles. Claire pressed her lips to the back of the tiny girl’s neck and her nostrils were filled with the unique, intoxicating smell of new baby.

Like a snugly puppy or kitten, Rosa’s head nestled against the curve of Claire’s shoulder and, with her open mouth, the tiny baby nuzzled her neck.

Claire hardly knew how to cope with the flood of unexpected love she felt for this sweet little creature. Oh, God! She wanted to be brave, but her arms were so starved for the feel of a warm, live baby. There’d been an aching hole inside her for so long, and now her heart almost broke with the bittersweet pain of her longing.

Even though she and Adam hadn’t bothered about a family during the first three years of their marriage, she’d endured five years of trying since then. Sixty months of disappointment and unbearably empty arms.

And here was Maria, so much younger, and for each of those five years she’d produced a baby. Maria only had to look at Jim and she was pregnant! Five of them! It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair at all.

‘If you were mine,’ Claire whispered as she rocked Rosa gently, ‘I’d make you such a sweet little nursery in our home at Nardoo. I’d have the cutest baby things for you—the prettiest clothes—lovely soft talcum powder and baby creams for your delicate baby skin. I’d look after you so beautifully.’

She glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of herself in the age-speckled mirror above the dressing table. Looking back at her was a tall, slim woman with big brown eyes and a delicate but sad face, surrounded by a mass of soft, light golden curls.

Surely I look like a normal, nice enough woman who deserves to be a mother?

Her eyes lingered over the most wonderful part of that picture, the dear little baby curled in her arms. Rosa looked so perfect, so perfectly at home as she snuggled against her breast.

A fierce pain speared Claire’s chest. It felt as if someone had plucked at her very heartstrings.

‘I’d set up a rocking-chair on the veranda and we’d sit there and watch Adam riding home at the end of a long, hard day in the outback,’ she whispered. ‘You’d love it up there in the bush. You could help me to feed all the pretty, noisy parrots that fly in at sundown.’

The baby’s snuffles stopped. It was almost as if she were listening to Claire.

‘There’s a pied butcher bird that taps on the kitchen window every morning for his breakfast,’ she told her. ‘And when you’re bigger, you can play in the beautiful garden I’ve made at Nardoo. Adam will buy you a dear little pony and we can both teach you to ride.’

She knew Adam would be a fantastic father. The best father in the world! It would be so wonderful.

Claire kissed the back of the baby’s little head again and she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. No one understood her pain.

No one.

A throat-clearing sound from the doorway startled her. Adam was standing there, watching her, frowning. He stepped into the room and walked towards her, his mouth tilting into an uncertain smile.

He looked at the baby in her arms.

‘She’s so sweet, isn’t she?’ she whispered.

‘Yeah,’ he agreed. Gingerly, he reached out one finger and touched the tiny hand that lay curled on Claire’s shoulder and then he touched Claire’s tear-stained cheek. ‘Were you imagining she’s yours?’

As Adam asked the question he looked so troubled, Claire’s tears erupted into proper, loud sobs.

‘My sweet girl,’ he whispered as his big arms came around her and the baby. ‘Hey, there. Don’t cry. You mustn’t cry. You’ll upset the baby.’

But in spite of her determination to be strong, she couldn’t stop crying. She leant her head against Adam’s chest and sobbed her heart out, sobbed for all those long, empty months she’d waited for a baby. Sobbed for her recent disappointment and all the unbearable months still to come.

And she felt her husband’s strong arms holding her close and his lips pressed against her forehead, but, to her horror, she knew that this time his loving embrace couldn’t bring her the comfort she needed.

There was only one person who could ease her terrible pain—and it was this little baby in her arms.

CHAPTER THREE

AS THEIR taxi sped through the dark streets, taking Adam and Claire through Sydney’s suburbs and back to their hotel, they sat silently and stiffly apart on the back seat. Claire stole anxious glances Adam’s way and once, when they were passing beneath a street light, their eyes met and she saw pain and stark worry in his.

An answering stab of anguish twisted in her chest. How could she ever live down her shame? She’d asked her brother if she could buy his baby!

How had she ever imagined that Maria and Jim would be relieved and pleased with her offer? What a fruit cake she was! Why hadn’t she seen that they would find her offer shocking, even insulting?

She’d totally lost it!

The impulse to ask for Rosa hadn’t been rationally thought out. It had seized her with frightening speed and, once it had taken hold, she’d reacted quickly, not giving herself time for second thoughts.

For a brief, shining moment it had seemed like a brilliant solution to everyone’s problems.

Her brother and his wife were really struggling to support their family. Maria looked very tired and strained. Their house was bursting at the seams. And it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be able to see Rosa whenever they wanted to.

But how quickly that shining idea had dimmed. Now it could go on record as the blackest plan ever hatched.

The taxi swung sharply around a corner and Claire shoved a fist against her mouth to hold back a sob. She didn’t want to cry again. She was so sick of crying.

What a mess she’d made of things! And she’d hurt Adam, too. She could tell by the grim set of his mouth that he was still very upset.

Leaning back against the seat, she closed her eyes, but tears insisted on seeping from beneath her lids as she remembered the look on his face when he’d realised what she’d done.

‘You’re not in this alone,’ he’d reminded her and she’d felt a horrible pang of guilt.

Rushing headlong into making the offer without even consulting Adam was yet another example of how thoughtless she’d been this evening.

She had apologised later, after they’d made their uncomfortable farewells to Jim and Maria and were walking back down the uneven garden path to the waiting taxi, but she had the horrible feeling that her apology had been too little, too late.

For the first time in her marriage, she felt as if a tiny but irreparable rift had broken the tightly woven fabric of their bond.

Claire swiped at her damp eyes with the backs of her hands. She would feel better if she thought it were possible for Jim or Maria to understand what had made her behave that way. But there was no way they could imagine what it was like to be trying for a baby for years and years…and years.

Not even Adam really understood how she felt. He hadn’t experienced the deadening, inner desolation she suffered when, month after tedious month, she was forced to accept that her womb was empty again…

She wanted him to understand. She needed him to, but she feared it was asking too much of her husband. This problem of infertility just wasn’t the same for a man as it was for a woman.

No one labelled a man barren.

Just thinking about that brought a wave of self-pity sweeping over her and she was still feeling sorry for herself when their taxi glided up the impressive column-lined drive to their hotel’s entrance.

Adam paid the driver, but, instead of slipping her arm companionably through his as she usually did, Claire marched stiffly in front of him through the automatic sliding glass doors and across the polished marble foyer.

In the lift they stood staring blankly ahead in brittle, uncomfortable silence.

As soon as the door of their room swung shut behind them, she turned to her husband, bracing herself for his attack. ‘I know you’re very angry,’ she countered quickly. ‘I’m sorry I made such a dreadful scene. I didn’t stop to think how much my offer would hurt Jim and Maria. You must be so ashamed of me.’

Adam sighed as he dropped his wallet and a set of keys onto the little table at his side of the bed. ‘I’m not ashamed of you, Claire.’

‘But you’re upset.’

‘I’m disappointed that you rushed in and offered Maria and Jim that money without talking it over first.’

Emotion constricted Claire’s throat. She should have known Adam would be decent about this when he had every right to be angry, to lecture her. Illogical as it was, the fact that he was exercising so much self-control made her feel worse.

She forced her eyes wide open to hold tears at bay. She was determined not to cry, but it was so hard. She wondered if she’d sprung a leak.

‘I didn’t have time to talk it over with you,’ she tried to explain, conscious that it was a rather weak excuse. ‘The idea only hit me tonight and—and I couldn’t help myself, Adam. I felt I had to act straight away.’

‘But rushing in like that without talking to me. It’s as if I just don’t count. It’s sure as hell not the way I want to become a father.’

‘Oh, Adam.’ Claire’s voice broke on a sob. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘But I’m afraid our—our problem—this whole infertility deal—is so much harder for me than you.’

Adam undid the top buttons on his shirt. ‘What makes you so sure about that?’

In a gesture she realised was overly grand, Claire flung her hands out to her sides. ‘It doesn’t dominate a man’s thinking the way it does a woman’s and society doesn’t have the same expectations for men to produce babies.’

The slight movement of his mouth might have been an attempt at a smile. ‘I always understood that men played an admittedly small but vital part in the quest for babies. I thought you’d noticed.’

Claire groaned. Trust Adam to remind her how much she enjoyed his lovemaking. The most upsetting thing about this whole business was that their sex life could be so powerful and beautiful and yet…so fruitless.

‘Of course you play a role.’ Any other time she would have been able to turn this moment into a friendly joke. A joke that would lead to laughter and love.

Not tonight. Tonight she’d lost sight of her sense of humour. ‘You have to admit that where pregnancy is concerned, ultimately, it’s a woman’s responsibility to come up with the goods.’

Adam walked towards her then. He came around the foot of the bed and reached for her and drew her towards him. ‘Sweetheart,’ he murmured sadly. ‘We’ve been over this before. You know you mustn’t blame yourself.’

With his arms around her, he caressed the side of her head with his jaw. In the past, Claire had always loved the way he did that. She loved the way they fitted together as if they’d been custom-built for each other. She loved the feel of him, especially in the evening when his chin was just a little raspy with the beginnings of stubble.

She wanted to enjoy it again. She wanted to relent and to melt against him, to absorb her husband’s love. But tonight she was too tense and too full of self-recrimination to yield to his touch. Even though she hated herself for doing it, she remained standing stiffly in his arms.

‘We’ve discussed this over and over,’ he said.

‘But, Adam,’ she answered in a hollow, toneless voice that echoed exactly how she felt, ‘if I can’t have a baby, my whole life feels meaningless. What on earth is the use of being a woman if I can’t fulfil the main reason I was put on this earth?’

He let her go then and stepped back a little and a kind of resigned bleakness crept back into his eyes. ‘I think you’re being melodramatic, Claire. We’re still young and you shouldn’t give up hope.’

‘It’s too hard to keep hoping.’

‘Then look around you. There are many, many women who never have a baby and who live fulfilled, useful lives.’

‘But I’m not one of them!’

‘How can you—how can you be so certain?’

Claire sighed.

‘Adam, in my head I know you’re right. But my emotions tell me something else. Deep down I’m sure I’m meant to have a baby of my own.’

‘Oh, Claire—’

The tears welled and spilled. ‘I know I’m meant to be a mother, otherwise I wouldn’t feel this awful, aching, ongoing emptiness. That’s what made me do what I did tonight. I held Rosa and—and I—I lost it.’

‘I know, Claire. I know.’ Gently he kissed the top of her head and his fingers stroked the back of her neck.

But he couldn’t offer her any solution apart from his love. It should have been enough. She knew that. But tonight…why, oh, why wasn’t it enough tonight?

They prepared for bed and, when they slipped between the sheets, Adam didn’t try to seduce her. He kissed her and held her, massaged her tense shoulders and murmured soothing talk, but eventually he drifted away into sleep.

And Claire lay in the dark, tossing and turning, swamped with guilt. She kept seeing Maria’s stricken face and hearing her final words… ‘If you ever have a baby, you will understand. It’s too much to ask a mother to give her baby away. You’re asking the impossible. I’d rather starve than lose one of my little ones.’

If you ever have a baby…Those words echoed over and over in her head and they left her with the same desolate hollowness she’d felt this evening when she’d held Rosa. But now there was the bitter aftertaste of shame as well.

‘I’ve decided to start another garden. We need something more on the western side,’ Claire announced on the first morning after they arrived home at Nardoo.

They were lingering over a late breakfast. Nancy and Joe Fiddler, their elderly caretakers, had insisted that they indulge in one last day of a slower routine before they launched back into full-scale station work.

Adam pushed his empty breakfast plate aside so he could sort through the huge pile of mail that had come while they’d been away. Now he looked up at her and smiled. ‘Another garden? Sounds like a good idea.’

He knew that announcing a totally new project out of the blue was Claire’s way of telling him she didn’t want any more discussion about what had happened at Jim’s.

Ever since the evening at her brother’s, she’d looked vulnerable and uncertain. She’d spent the time in an agony of self-recrimination, going over and over how badly she’d behaved.

Now they were home, he could still see a haunting shadow dimming the loveliness in her eyes, but he hoped she would be able to put the whole regrettable incident behind her.

Claire always worried so much about what her family thought of her. Half the time he wondered why she bothered. Over the years, he’d had to hide his dismay when they hadn’t been more concerned and supportive about her problems.

He remembered the disbelieving, reproachful expression on his mother-in-law’s face when Claire had first tried to explain the difficulties she was having getting pregnant.

‘I don’t understand it,’ Mary Tremaine had exclaimed with a petulant quiver in her voice. ‘The women in our family never have trouble falling pregnant. Maybe you need to take more vitamins. Give some to Adam, too.’

Her younger sister, Sally, had been even less considerate than her mother. She’d simply grinned and winked at him as she’d commented flippantly, ‘You can’t really complain, Claire. Adam is so dishy that at least you can have a scrumptious time trying for a baby.’

And, of course, Jim and Maria had been so busy with their own family.

He noticed that, after initial attempts, Claire tended to avoid talking about her difficulties with her family. If they made enquiries, she invented cover-up lines. ‘Every time I decide it’s time to have a baby, Adam has to go off mustering,’ she’d tell them with a laugh.

He slit another envelope open with his penknife and Claire picked up her teacup. He fancied there was a tinge too much enthusiasm in her voice as she said, ‘I’m so glad it rained while we were away. I was worried that we’d come back to find everything in the garden brown and ugly.’

‘You know Nancy and Joe wouldn’t have let that happen. They’ve lived here for longer than I have and love it as much as we do. The place looks terrific.’

He pushed a pile of letters down the table towards her. ‘These are yours.’

‘I’ll read them later.’ She finished drinking her tea, replaced the cup on its saucer and stood. ‘It was too dark to see everything last night. I want to check on all my babies.’

Jumping to his feet, he walked around the table till he stood beside her. He touched her soft, too pale cheek.

‘Claire, you don’t mind being buried out here in the outback, do you?’

‘Oh, Adam,’ she sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder and rubbing her nose into his neck. He could smell the clean, sweet fragrance of her hair and the familiar soap they always used at home. ‘Of course I don’t mind. I love it here.’ Then she kissed him and added, ‘Besides, you’re here.’

His heart gave a little tumble when he saw her innocent smile, as if the simple fact of his presence was enough to keep her happy.

‘I worry sometimes that being stuck in the bush makes everything harder for you. You’ve had to adjust to the isolation and you’ve been amazing the way you’ve learned so much about running the property. But you must miss your old friends. And you don’t have children to keep you busy.’

‘I’ve got the garden,’ Claire insisted. ‘And Heather Crowe has been onto me for years about taking part in the Open Garden Scheme. You know, opening our garden up to the public a couple of times each year. Apparently this district is getting quite famous for its gardens.’

‘Would you like that?’

‘I think I would. At least I’m going to give it some serious thought.’ She kissed him again, lingeringly on the mouth. ‘Now, please don’t worry about me. I made a terrible mistake in Sydney, but it doesn’t mean I’m becoming unhinged.’

‘Another kiss like that and you’ll never get to check your garden,’ he told her with a sexy growl. ‘Go, woman.’

Claire crossed the airy breakfast room and went down the hall, pausing to collect her hat from the row of akubras and oilskin coats in the entry-way, and then she stepped out through the heavy, silky oak-framed doorway onto the veranda where huge urns of lilies and wicker baskets full of lush ferns kept the front of the house looking cool and green all year round.

Before her stretched the Nardoo garden.

She was proud of the way she’d preserved the beautiful garden first planted by Adam’s great-grandmother. And she was equally proud of the way she’d extended and developed it, without losing sight of the tone and vision of the original garden with its old-world plants, low stone walls and winding flagged paths.

Even though she’d grown up in Melbourne, from the minute she’d arrived at Nardoo as a young and hopeful bride Claire had loved Adam’s home.

Last evening, as they’d rattled and bumped along the dirt track that led from the main road into their property, they’d both felt a kind of hushed awe as they’d looked around them at the enduring beauty of their own familiar, hazy bush and the soft silvery paddocks that ran down to the river.

Claire had felt the special thrill that only a true sense of belonging and homecoming could bring. She’d leant closer to Adam, slipped her hand along his jeans-clad thigh and rested her head against his shoulder.

And, without taking his eyes off the road, he’d half turned and kissed her forehead and said, ‘Nothing quite like home, is there?’

‘Absolutely nothing,’ she’d agreed and she’d felt a flutter of hope that perhaps her shameful episode in Sydney could be allowed to slip away like a bad dream that faded in the forgiving light of morning.

Now she pulled her wide-brimmed hat down firmly over her blonde curls, walked out onto the expanse of rolling green lawn and turned to look back at the house. It was a gracious, low-set homestead built to house a big family in colonial times, featuring two magnificent bay windows at the front and a bull-nosed, wrap-around veranda.

Last year she’d supervised the house’s repainting and, because she hadn’t wanted it to look too new or bright, she’d chosen a weathered, dusty red for the iron roof and the soft blue-grey-green tone of the surrounding eucalypts for the timber walls.

With its own separate nursery wing built in the late nineteenth century, it was a beautiful, welcoming house crying out for a family to fill it.

But Claire refused to let her mind linger on that dead-end path. She turned her attention to the familiar garden features.

One of her very special delights was to revisit her garden after a time away. There was always something new to discover. New shoots, new buds, and sometimes, sadly, the discovery that a struggling plant had succumbed to the heat, or that others had been eaten by wallabies.

So now, she revisited each part of her garden in turn. The jacarandas sweeping in a row away from one end of the house were still flowering and beneath them the lawn was covered by a romantic carpet of fallen lavender bluebells.

The jasmine and bougainvillaea that rambled along the trellises on the veranda were still making a good show and her rose beds, filled with her favourite mixture of hybrid tea and David Austen roses, were a riot of colour.

She smiled. Italy was grand, but it is most definitely good to be home.

Stepping onto one of the rustic stone paths, she followed it past the hardy, summer stalwarts—pentas, zinnias and dahlias—around to the western side of the house where she wanted to plan a new garden. As she walked she brushed past lavender bushes and they welcomed her by giving up their fresh, heady perfume.

From this side of the house, she could see the flash of the river—the Maronoa—mighty in flood, but quiet and peaceful now. Wide and brown, the river was bordered by black-soil banks lined with century-old river gums.

Adam had told her once that during all the years he’d lived on Nardoo, the river had been like a favourite friend. And she’d understood exactly what he meant. Together, they’d spent many happy hours sitting and chatting, picnicking or fishing beside its wide, silky waters.

He’d built a rough stone barbecue up closer to the house in the shade of a row of ancient Moreton Bay fig trees. But from between the tree-trunks, they could still see the river and they’d enjoyed many outdoor meals there. Now she wanted to make the area into a proper courtyard to be lit at night by dainty fairy lights threaded through the tree branches.

She could picture a central pergola covered in yellow Banksian roses and perhaps a lily pond. And she wanted perfumed plants climbing over trellises to scent the evening air—hoya, port-wine magnolia and night-scented jasmine.

As Claire wandered further, planning happily, checking what other patches in the garden needed weeding or pruning or watering, she felt her garden begin to work its magic…soothing her and healing her hurt.

Restoring her faith in herself.

From the house, she heard the tinkle of the telephone, but she continued her inspection. Nancy would take the call.

The fresh tang of tomato plants reached her as she arrived at the raised vegetable gardens at the back of the house. Here, bok choy, tomatoes, parsnips and eggplants were planted alongside herbs for the kitchen—parsley, basil, oregano, mint and rosemary.

A garden fork was stuck in the earth and she picked it up and began to break up the soil. The ground gave up its moist, earthy scent and her nostrils twitched with pleasure.

She promised herself to put babies completely out of her mind, trusting that once she became absorbed in her garden again, she wouldn’t feel so empty or downhearted.

It was ironic that she had a talent for winning fertility out of the earth when she…

No! No more negative thoughts.

She couldn’t resist testing the rich chocolate texture of the freshly turned earth with her fingers and, almost immediately, she felt her spirits lift.

‘Claire!’ Nancy’s voice reached her and she looked up to see their housekeeper standing on the back porch, holding the screen door open.

‘Am I wanted on the telephone?’ Claire called, annoyed, because she’d just started to get her hands dirty.

The housekeeper hurried towards her. ‘You don’t need to come, but your sister called,’ she said as she drew closer.

‘Sally? What does she want?’

Nancy grinned. ‘She’s staying in Daybreak and she’s coming to visit you.’

‘She’s in Daybreak? Again?’ Claire was genuinely surprised. Daybreak was the country town nearest to Nardoo, but Sally worked as a journalist in Brisbane and claimed to be an urban animal. In the past, she’d always shunned the bush. But over the past couple of years, Claire had noticed that her visits had been becoming more frequent.

‘That explains why she didn’t answer my call when I tried to ring her in Brisbane,’ she told Nancy. ‘I wonder what on earth has dragged her out here this time. Did she say when she’s coming?’

‘This evening.’

‘Oh.’ Claire realised as soon as it was out that her reply sounded less than enthusiastic. ‘That’s great,’ she added with more energy. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t love to see Sally. There was never a dull second when her little sister was around.

But she couldn’t help wondering if Sally had been in contact with Jim. Had she dashed out here to check on her? Her stomach churned at the thought. If Sally planned to cross-examine her, she could be in for an uncomfortable time.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I’VE been in contact with Jim.’

It wasn’t the first thing Sally announced after she arrived that evening, but it came far too early in the conversation for Claire’s comfort.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.