Читать книгу Their Doorstep Baby - Barbara Hannay - Страница 8

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.