The Bridesmaid's Baby (12 page)

W
ILL
knew he could do this.

All day, he’d rehearsed in his mind how he would make love to Lucy as her friend. He’d thought about nothing else as he’d driven the tractor up and down the paddocks at Tambaroora and the whole idea had seemed solid and plausible.

Now, however, Lucy was close—kissing close—and his certainty evaporated.

Or, rather, his certainty shifted focus. And the focus was
not
on friendship. Far from it.

He wanted nothing more than to gather Lucy in to him, to kiss her with the reckless frenzy of a lover, to kiss her slowly, all night long, to lose himself in her fragrant softness.

He wanted to forget
why
they were doing this. He wanted to forget her past history with his brother. He wanted to think of nothing but…

Lucy.

He wanted
her.

Tonight.

She was simply dressed in jeans and a tomboyish grey T-shirt. No pretty floral dress. No sexy high heels.

It didn’t matter. She was Lucy. And he wanted her.

Too much.

Her disappointment was clear as she stepped away from him and nervously fingered the amethyst, feeling the smooth facets beneath her fingertips. Her blue eyes were cloudy. Understandably perplexed. ‘Will, there’s something wrong, isn’t there?’

‘No,’ he muttered and he forced his thoughts to focus on restraint.

‘You don’t want to…’ she began, but she couldn’t finish the sentence.

‘I don’t want to hurt you, Lucy.’

Cringe.
Had he really said that? The only way he could hurt Lucy was by walking away and denying her the chance to become a mother.

Or perhaps that was the only way he could save himself from eternal damnation? Why the hell hadn’t they stuck to the IVF option?

His throat worked.

Lucy looked away. They were still standing in her hallway, for heaven’s sake.

‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked.

‘A drink?’ he repeated like a fool.

‘To…er…relax.’

He shook his head. He would need a whole bottle of alcohol to douse the fire inside him.

Lucy looked as if she wanted to weep and he knew that, at any minute now, she would thank him for the gift and send him home. It was exactly what he deserved.

She dropped her gaze to the empty box in her hands. ‘I thought a drink might help with…um…getting in the mood.’

With a choked sound that was halfway between a groan
and a sick laugh, Will fought back the urge to haul her against his hard, aroused body. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my mood, Lucy.’

‘Right,’ she whispered hoarsely, but she looked upset, a little shocked. And maybe just a tad angry. Her chin lifted and her unsmiling eyes confronted him.

His heart slammed inside his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d been so cool about this last time. What a poor naïve fool he’d been. Back then, he hadn’t known what it was like to take Lucy into his arms. He’d forgotten how dangerous it could be to get close to her, to know that the slim curves pressed so deliciously against him were Lucy’s.

Until then, he’d innocently assumed that their kiss on the veranda all those years ago had been an aberration.

Now, Will knew better.

Now, he knew that kissing Lucy, making love to Lucy could all too easily become a dangerous addiction.

With a soft sigh, she set the box and purple ribbon on the hallstand, and when she looked at him again, she set her hands on her hips and her eyes were an unsettling blue challenge. ‘What do you want to do, then?’

‘Kiss you.’

The answer jumped from Will’s lips before he could gather his wits. He saw the flare of confusion in Lucy’s eyes, the soft surprised O of her mouth. But his hands were already reaching out for her and then he kissed her as if this were his last minute on this earth.

He kissed her as if at any moment he might lose her.

For ever.

Lucy couldn’t quite believe this.

She hadn’t dared to hope that Will could possibly want her with such intensity.

One minute he’d looked as if he wanted to bolt out her front door, the next his mouth was locked with hers. His hands cupped her bottom and he pulled her against him and suddenly she stopped worrying.

All the fantasies she’d lived through that day—actually, all the romantic fantasies she’d dreamed about her entire adult life—rolled into one sensational here and now.

Never had she experienced such a hot kiss. Flashpoints exploded all over her skin. Recklessly, she pushed even closer to Will, winding her arms around his neck, seeking the closest possible contact. To her relief, he most definitely didn’t seem to mind.

Gosh, no.

His fever matched hers, kiss for kiss, and a kind of wonderful madness overcame them.

Together they made it down the hall, bumping against the walls in a frenzy of kissing and touching, until they reached the first doorway.

It led to the lounge room, and it seemed that would have to do.

They stumbled to the sofa, sinking needfully into its velvety cushions.

Bliss.

Bliss to help and be helped out of clothing. Bliss to lie together at last with Will, to run her hands over the satin of his skin as it stretched tightly over hard bands of muscle.

Even greater bliss when Will took charge and deliberately held back the pace, stilling her seeking hands and kissing her with unhurried, leisurely reverence.

It was sweet, so sweet. He kissed her slowly and deeply, drawing her gradually but relentlessly down into an intimate dark cave where only the two of them existed.

And everything was fine. It was perfect. Because this time she knew that Will Carruthers was the one man in the world she could trust to fulfil her innermost secret longings.

Will woke as the pale buttery light of dawn filtered though the curtains in Lucy’s bedroom. He didn’t move because she was still asleep with one arm flung across his chest and her soft, warm body nestled against him, her breath a sweet hush on his skin.

Staying with her till morning had not been part of his plan. Hell, practically none of last night had been part of his plan, although he had rationalised that he should make the most of this one night.

Tomorrow he was flying out to Papua New Guinea to check out job prospects.

At that thought Will suppressed a sigh, but perhaps Lucy felt it for she stirred against him and her blue eyes opened.

‘Morning, Goose.’ He thought about kissing her, but decided against it. This morning was all about seriously backing off.

Lucy looked at her bedside clock and groaned. ‘I’ve slept in.’

He thought guiltily about the amount of time he’d kept her awake.

‘I’m going to have to hurry,’ she grumbled, reaching for a towelling robe draped over a nearby chair.

Will swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Lucy tightened the knot at her waist and stood. She ran a hand through her tumbled curls and sent him an uncertain smile. She let her gaze travel over him, and it seemed to settle rather sadly on his bare feet.

He looked down. ‘Yeah…I worry about that too.’

‘What?’

‘Whether the baby will inherit my freakishly long second toes.’

‘Oh.’ She laughed. ‘It might end up with my freakishly tiny ears.’

He fought back an urge to pull her to him, to nibble and taste those neat little ears. ‘Cutest ears in the southern hemisphere,’ he said.

‘But they might not look too flash on a boy.’

She bit her lower lip and touched the pendant at her throat. ‘I wonder if it’s happening, Will. I wonder if I’m pregnant.’

‘You’re sure to be,’ he said and he did the only thing that was right.

He reached for his clothes.

Lucy held back her tears until after Will left, but she’d never felt so desolate. To watch him walk away was like cutting off a lifeline and she felt like an astronaut, adrift in endless emptiness.

But there was no point in letting him see how much she’d hated to let him go. He was heading off to Papua New Guinea tomorrow and he was sure to get a job there. She’d always known he was never going to be tamed and kept in one place.

He was a catch and release kind of man, like the wild bush creatures she cared for and then set free.

Will telephoned when he got back a week later. ‘Have you started tucking into the liquorice allsorts?’

Lucy was relieved to report; ‘Not yet.’

‘Any symptoms?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Hard to say. It’s still too soon, but I’ve been rather tired and I need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.’

‘They’re promising signs, aren’t they?’

‘Could be.’

Problem was, Lucy had become hyper-aware of her body, anxious to discover the slightest hint of change. She was sure she felt different this month, but she couldn’t be certain that the differences were real and not simply the result of her overactive imagination.

Just in time she bit back an impulse to tell Will she’d missed him. But it was true, of course. She’d missed Will terribly. Desperately. The longer he’d stayed away the more she was certain that making love to him on a second night had been even more dangerous than she’d feared. She loved him.

Still.

Always.

With all her heart.

She could no longer hide from the truth and she had no idea how she could go on pretending anything else.

But she had to accept that Will was never going to change, never going to settle down. He might be attracted to her, but he’d always been restless and he would always need to keep travelling, seeking new sights and challenges.

When she was younger, she’d known this, and she’d tried to protect herself by simply being his friend. Now she’d thrown caution to the wind and she had to accept that her love for him was a weakness she’d have to learn to adjust to and live with—the way other people adjusted to a disability.

‘How was your trip to Papua New Guinea?’ she asked, keeping her voice carefully light.

‘Oh, there’s plenty of work up there. I’ve had a couple of offers, so it’s a matter of deciding which job to take.’

‘That’s great.’ Good grief, she hoped she didn’t sound as unhappy as she felt. ‘A very fortunate position to be in.’

‘No doubt about that,’ Will agreed. ‘So…about you. This week is the week of the big countdown, right?’

‘Yes.’ Lucy let out a sigh. ‘I wish I didn’t have to wait. I’m afraid I’ve become mildly obsessive. I’ve taken to reading my stars in every magazine I can find. I’ve even thought about going to see Sylvie.’

‘Who’s Sylvie?’

‘The hairdresser in the main street. She tells fortunes as well as cutting hair, but I’m not quite desperate enough to trust her talents. I’m actually trying very hard to be sensible and philosophical.’

‘Will you use a home pregnancy test?’

‘Oh, yes. Definitely. I’ve a carton of tests ready and waiting, but I’m holding off till next Friday. If I try too soon, I might get a false reading and I don’t think I could bear the disappointment.’

‘Lucy, I want to be there.’

The sudden urgency in his voice made her heart jump.

‘You want to be here when I do the test?’

‘Yes. Is that OK?’

She pressed a hand against her thudding heart. She shouldn’t be surprised. The baby would be as much Will’s as it was hers, but somehow she hadn’t expected this level of interest from him.

‘It doesn’t seem right that you should be all alone when you find out,’ he said.

She couldn’t deny it would be wonderful to share her news with Will. If it was good news they could celebrate, and if she was disappointed again he would be there to comfort her.

‘You’d better come over first thing on Friday morning,’ she said and her voice was decidedly shaky.

Friday morning produced an idyllic country dawn. As Will drove to Lucy’s place, the paddocks, the trees and the sky looked as if they’d been spring cleaned for a special occasion, and the landscape had a gentle and dreamy quality as if he was viewing the scene through a soft focus lens. The air was balmy and light.

A pretty white fog filled the bowl of Willow Creek and he watched it drift from the dark cluster of trees like magician’s smoke. He felt keyed up, excited, anxious, hopeful.

Torn.

He longed for good news, but in many ways he dreaded it. If Lucy was pregnant, he would have no choice but to take a back seat in her life.

He found that prospect unexpectedly depressing so he tried, instead, to enjoy the picture perfect scenery.

It shouldn’t have been difficult. The road from Tambaroora wound past a small forest of pines, then over a low hill before it dipped to a rustic bridge where another arm of Willow Creek was bordered by yellow and purple wildflowers.

But he was still feeling edgy when he reached Lucy’s place, even though her dogs rushed to the front gate to greet him with excited barks and madly wagging tails.

Lucy was dressed for work in a khaki shirt and trousers, but he could see the amethyst pendant sitting above the open V of her shirt collar.

Valiantly, he ignored the urge to pull her in for a kiss.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.

‘Totally nervous,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t sleep very well.’

‘Neither did I.’

She looked surprised. ‘I…I’m assuming you’ll stay for breakfast? I’ve started sausages and tomatoes.’

‘Thanks. They smell great.’

‘And I’ve made a pot of tea. Why don’t you help yourself while I…er…get this done? I can’t stand the suspense.’

‘Off you go,’ he said, but as she turned to leave he snagged her hand. ‘Hey, Goose.’

Her blue eyes shimmered. ‘Yes?’

‘Good luck.’

To his surprise she stepped closer and gave him a swift, sweet kiss on the jaw. The room seemed intolerably empty when she left.

Will poured tea into a blue pottery mug and walked with it to the window, saw the stained glass feature winking bright blue in the morning light and felt shocked by the tension that filled him.