The Bridesmaid's Baby. Barbara HannayЧитать онлайн книгу.
brother Josh would be here to help their father run Tambaroora. It was the life Josh, as the eldest son, was born to, what he wanted. For Will, escape had never beckoned more sweetly, had never seemed more reasonable. ‘I wish you were coming too.’
Lucy made a soft groaning sound. ‘Don’t start that again, Will.’
‘Sorry.’ He knew this was a sore point. ‘I just can’t understand why you don’t want to escape, too.’
‘And play gooseberry to you and Cara? How much fun would that be?’
The little catch in Lucy’s voice alarmed Will.
‘But we’re sure to meet up with other travellers, and you’d make lots of friends. Just like you always have.’
Lucy had arrived in Willowbank during their last year at high school and she’d quickly fitted into Will’s close circle but, because they’d shared a mutual interest in science, she and Will had become particularly good friends, really good friends.
He looked at her now, standing on the veranda in the moonlight, beautiful in an elfin, tomboyish way, with sparkly blue eyes and short blonde hair and soft pale skin. A strange lump of hot metal burned in his throat.
Lucy lifted her face to him and he saw a tear tremble on the end of her lashes and run down her cheek.
‘Hey, Goose.’ He used her nickname and forced a shaky laugh. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to miss me.’
‘Of course I won’t miss you,’ she cried, whirling away so he couldn’t see her face.
Shocked, Will reached out to her. She was wearing a strapless dress and his hands closed over her bare shoulders. Her skin was silky beneath his hands and, as he drew her back against him, she was small and soft in his arms. She smelled clean like rain. He dipped his head and her hair held the fragrance of flowers.
Without warning he began to tremble with the force of unexpected emotion.
‘Lucy,’ he whispered but, as he turned her around to face him, anything else that he might have said was choked off by the sight of her tears.
His heart behaved very strangely as he traced the tears’ wet tracks with his fingertips. He felt the heated softness of her skin and when he reached the dainty curve of her tear-dampened lips, he knew that he had to kiss her.
He couldn’t resist gathering her close and tasting the delicate saltiness of her tears and the sweetness of her skin and, finally, the softness of her mouth. Oh, God.
With the urgency of a wild bee discovering the world’s most tempting honey, Will pulled her closer and took the kiss deeper. Lucy wound her arms around his neck and he could feel her breasts pressed against his chest. His body caught fire.
How could this be happening?
Where on earth had Lucy learned to kiss? Like this?
She was so sweet and wild and passionate—turning him on like nothing he’d ever known.
Was this really Lucy McKenty in his arms? His heart was bursting inside his chest.
‘Lucy?’ Mattie’s voice called suddenly. ‘Is that you out there, Lucy?’
Light flooded them. Will and Lucy sprang apart and Mattie stared at them, shocked.
They stared at each other, equally shocked.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mattie said, turning bright red.
‘No, it’s OK,’ they both protested in unison.
‘We were just—’ Will began.
‘Saying goodbye,’ Lucy finished and then she laughed. It was a rather wild, strange little laugh, but it did the trick.
Everyone relaxed. Mattie stopped blushing. ‘Josh thought you might like to make a speech soon,’ she told him.
‘A speech?’ Will sounded as dazed as he felt.
‘A farewell speech.’
‘Oh, yes. I’d better say something now before everyone gets too sloshed.’
They went back inside and, with the speed of a dream that faded upon waking, the moment on the veranda evaporated.
The spell was broken.
Everyone gathered around Will and, as he looked out at the sea of faces and prepared to speak, he thought guiltily of Cara, his girlfriend, waiting for him to join her in Sydney. Then he glanced at Lucy and saw no sign of tears. She was smiling and looking like her happy old self and he told himself everything was OK.
Already he was sure he’d imagined the special magic in that kiss.
CHAPTER ONE
THERE were days when Lucy McKenty knew she was in the wrong job. A woman in her thirties with a loudly ticking biological clock should not devote huge chunks of her time to delivering gorgeous babies.
Admittedly, the babies Lucy delivered usually had four legs and a tail, but that didn’t stop them from being impossibly cute, and it certainly didn’t stop her from longing for a baby. Just one baby of her own to hold and to love.
The longing swept through her now as she knelt in the straw beside the calf she’d just delivered. The birthing had been difficult, needing ropes and a great deal of Lucy’s perspiration, but now, as she shifted the newborn closer to his exhausted mother’s head, she felt an all too familiar wrench on her heartstrings.
The cow opened her eyes and began to lick her calf, slowly, methodically, and Lucy smiled as the newborn nuzzled closer. She never tired of this miracle.
Within minutes, the little calf was wobbling to his feet, butting at his mother’s side, already urging her to join him in a game.
Nothing could beat the joy of new life.
Except…this idyllic scene was an uncomfortable reminder that Lucy had very little chance of becoming a mother. She’d already suffered one miscarriage and now there was a failed IVF treatment behind her. She was sure she was running out of time. The women in her family had a track record of early menopause and she lived with an ever growing sense of her biological clock counting off the months, days, hours, minutes.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
Swallowing a sigh, Lucy stood slowly and stretched muscles that had been strained as she’d hauled the calf into the world. She glanced through the barn doorway and saw that the shadows had lengthened across the golden grass of the home paddock.
‘What’s the time?’ she asked Jock Evans, the farmer who’d called her in a panic several hours earlier.
Instead of checking his wrist, Jock turned slowly and squinted at the mellowing daylight outside. ‘Just gone five, I reckon.’
‘Already?’ Lucy hurried to the corner of the barn where she’d left her things, including her watch. She checked it. Jock was dead right. ‘I’m supposed to be at a wedding rehearsal by half past five.’
Jock’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Don’t tell me you’re getting married, Lucy?’
‘Me? Heavens, no.’ Peeling off sterile gloves, she manufactured a gaiety she didn’t feel. ‘Mattie Carey’s the lucky girl getting married. I’m just a bridesmaid.’
Again, she added silently.
The farmer didn’t try to hide his relief. ‘I’m glad you haven’t been snapped up. The Willow Creek district can’t afford to have you whisked away from us.’
‘Well, there’s not much chance.’
‘Most folks around here reckon you’re the best vet we’ve ever had.’
‘Thanks, Jock.’ Lucy sent him a grateful smile, but as she went through to the adjoining