Their Newborn Gift Page 8

  ‘Are you okay?’ His hands immediately went round her.

  ‘I’m fine…It’s nothing.’ Lea hoped it was nothing. Was that biting sensation a problem, or just her over-charged body’s response to Reilly? Too early for a kick, surely? The baby’s legs would barely be formed.

  Not a baby, just cells. A treatment for Molly.

  ‘You should step back.’ He wrapped one large hand around her upper arm and drew her away from her own fence. It was gentle, yet not gentle.

  She shrugged free of him. ‘I’m pregnant, Reilly. Not impaired.’ She bent to retrieve the glass and, when she stood, she glared at him, frustrated. ‘Do you wrap your mares up in cotton wool when they’re pregnant?’

  His silence was telling.

  ‘Didn’t think so.’

  She stomped off and felt Reilly’s eyes on her the whole way.

  Travelling three hours daily for two weeks to train the brumbies must have been brutal on Reilly. He must have been leaving his own property at three in the morning in order to be trundling down her drive at sun-up. But Molly loved it and Lea could see no signs in Reilly of anything other than professional focus. He was in his element.

  They worked together for five hours solid each morning until the Kimberley sun forced Lea into the relative cool of the house and Reilly back into his Land Rover and home to Minamurra for some time in the office, until early evening when it started to cool off again and he could work his own horses.

  That was the beauty of the end of the dry season. The midday temperatures chased you indoors to deal with life’s admin. To catch up on all the work you’d let slide during the fertile, blue-skied dry season when all you wanted to do was swim in waterholes filled with fresh, cold water down off the plains or ride through wildflowers and lush, green growth that had sprung to life around about June. Trying to avoid the tourists.

  It was the time Lea paid bills, studied her investments and planned her budgets for the coming year. That process was very different this year, excising the last of her investment income to go towards the ICSI, the extra medical. Molly’s treatment. Everything was planned down to the last detail. She liked to have her ducks more than in a row; she liked them lined up, labelled and with individual-output quotas.

  She really didn’t do spontaneous.

  Which was why she was bemused to find herself crossing the house-paddock halfway through the morning with a toasted bacon sandwich on a plate. An unexpected, unsolicited sandwich. It was enough to force her feet to a halt.

  She was feeding Reilly.

  Was it some kind of nurturing kick she was on because of the life growing inside her? She took a mortified step back towards the house, then stopped, thoroughly rattled. She moved to the fallen log that doubled as a bench seat looking over her back paddocks and quietly laid the plate down. The worms in her worm-farm would devour it later.

  She’d be damned if she was going to start catering for the likes of Reilly Martin. He was already making himself far too comfortable in her life.

  He looked up as she approached, empty-handed. Her smile felt as tight as her chest. ‘What are you working on?’

  He fiddled with a length of soft lead-rope. ‘I need to move faster with this training. I want them floatable by Friday. Today Sapphire’s going to learn about tethering.’

  Lea frowned. Maybe he was as keen to get out of here as she was to have him gone. She stared at the beautiful, trusting mare.

  ‘Would you like to meet her? Officially?’

  Her face must have given her answer, because he stepped aside and let her close. Was this some kind of apology for his overreaction yesterday? She gently moved up to the skittish brumbie and took the food Reilly offered.

  He stepped in behind her. ‘Hold the food out, but don’t point it straight at her, let her come to you.’

  Sapphire’s nostrils immediately started twitching and her ears turned towards Lea’s outstretched hand. Her long face followed and finally her front quarters gravitated unerringly towards the food.

  Reilly reached around Lea as the horse moved over and his large hand ran gently along her twitching hide. Lea lifted hers alongside it. Together they stroked their hands gently down Sapphire’s long, furred coat, Lea crooning to the nervous mare all the while. Reilly shifted position so he could drop his arms around her and twist her into the safety of his body the second it might be necessary. His intent was subtle, but she didn’t miss it.

  Lea forced herself to remember he was protecting his child, not her. Her hand dropped away. ‘I’m surprised how far they’ve come in just a couple of weeks.’

  His voice was warm and close above her ear. ‘I’ve learned never to be surprised by the resilience and courage of these animals.’ He rounded a rub up over Sapphire’s ears. ‘Treat a horse well and it will reward you with loyalty and affection for the rest of its life. They’re much better than humans in that way.’

  Loyalty, honour, affection—not qualities she would have expected him to value. Judging by his body language, his displeasure was not, for once, directed at her. She glanced at the strong hands softly stroking the mare’s face, his mind a hundred years away. Yesterday it had all been about Reilly’s hard angles and pretty face; today it was his gentle patience. This appreciation yo-yo was becoming predictable.

  But if he wasn’t having a crack at her, then…? She turned her head up to him. ‘Were your parents not like that?’

  Dark eyes slid away from Sapphire and onto Lea, but his hands continued to reassure the mare. He stared down at her hard. ‘What makes you think I’m not talking about you?’

  She fought away the heat that started to rise. ‘I’d take it as a given that you are. But you’ve only known me a few years. That sentiment sounds like it was born in childhood, not recently.’

  He stepped away then thrust her the lead-rope.

  ‘Can I take that as a no?’ she huffed.

  ‘Honey, you can take that however you want.’ He turned away to reach for more carrots.

  Lea’s mind immediately joined the dots. It was not the first time he’d avoided the subject by bristling. A hint of a memory from over five years ago fed her impression that things hadn’t been rosy at the Martin homestead. Something he’d said that she couldn’t quite remember…Something about his parents.

  She should leave it; let him have his privacy. ‘I’m just curious about your childhood. You never really talk about it.’

  Dark eyes swung back to her. ‘Just because I don’t talk about it with you doesn’t mean I don’t talk about it.’

  She felt the sting of his judgement deep in the thick skin she’d developed over the years. It was an all too familiar bite. Watching him with her horses, it was getting harder to picture him as the careless, brainless saddle-jockey she’d believed he was. Somewhere in the past couple of weeks she’d started to care what he thought of her.

  Not very much, judging by his tone.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Reilly, you’re now in Molly’s life and she’s bonding with you. It’s not entirely unreasonable that I’d try and get to know a bit more about you. To understand what makes you tick.’ And whether you’re a ticking time-bomb.

  He kept working. ‘Funny, I can’t recall there being a clause requiring deep and meaningful conversation in our contract.’

  She bit back the temper. Breathed deeply. ‘Reilly…’

  ‘Are you looking for skeletons in the Martin closet, Lea? To protect your daughter from hurt? Well, let me ask you this one…’ he spun square on to her ‘…how is Molly going to cope growing up with the town outcast for a mother?’

  Lea gasped. Reilly barrelled on relentlessly. ‘Have you considered what it does to a child to have notorious parents? How invisible it can make you feel? How alone? Half your school friends teasing you and the other half wanting something from you? Especially when your parents are famous. And wealthy. Maybe you should be looking more closely at your own issues rather than digging for mine. You’re the rod Molly’s back wil
l have to bear.’

  Lea’s heart thumped hard enough to hear in her voice. She willed her heartbeat to slow down. Every part of her wanted to jump on his hurtful words, to strike back, as she’d watched her father do. But it had never really worked for them, had it?

  She used the time it took to get her pulse back under control to drag her erratic thoughts into some kind of order. ‘I do think about that, actually. And then I remember that if I can just keep her alive long enough to get to school age I’ll be doing well. It’s easy to push everything else back.’

  Reilly’s eyes softened. He swore at himself and slid a large hand around her upper arm. His strength leached into her. ‘We’ll get her to school, Lea. And to uni. And to have her own kids in school.’

  Lea couldn’t help the tears that prickled at that extraordinary thought. She forced a tight, watery smile. She’d never allowed herself to imagine Molly as a mother of her own child. Her throat thickened. ‘She’d be a brilliant mother.’

  ‘She’s had good training.’

  Lea blinked, astonished.

  ‘I may not like how Molly came into being, Lea, but there’s no doubting that you’ve done an amazing job with her. Before her sickness and since.’

  Thumpety-thump; there went her heart again. ‘You never knew her before.’

  ‘I can see how she must have been. The way she’s so confident. Respectful. Amazingly responsive to authority. That’s down to you. You’ve raised her well.’

  Lea stared, a single tear spilling over. Reilly swiped it away with his thumb. She frowned at him, confused. ‘Thank you, Reilly.’

  ‘Are you so surprised I would think it? I’m not a monster, Lea.’

  She realised she’d stopped thinking of him in ‘monster’ terms weeks ago. A pleasant shiver marched up her spine. ‘I should get back to her. Good luck with Sapphire.’

  Lea marched, stiff-backed, up to the house and Reilly watched her go, torn. He hadn’t expected the flashes of softness he’d seen in her over the past couple of weeks. She was as sharp as a tack—another thing he could feel himself appreciating—but vulnerable with it. It drew him in, like the bad old days. It was the same quality he’d responded to in that bar. He’d recognised the signs of an animal in distress.

  He wasn’t interested in bonding with her now. He just wanted to get on with the business of moving these horses to Minamurra. Of making a baby. He stroked the skittish mare while its nostrils flared wildly.

  Business, like the rest of their relationship.

  Not a relationship. He was Molly’s father and the biological father of the child growing in Lea’s fit, glowing body. He didn’t owe her a thing that he hadn’t already delivered in spades. Yet he found himself worrying about her out here alone with Molly. The two of them isolated on the wrong side of the ridge, living on a property that Lea could barely manage on her own.

  Maybe she needed to find a husband. Get some help. She wouldn’t want to—Lea Curran was not a woman who settled unnecessarily—but maybe it was what she needed.

  The thought of another man raising Molly frosted his blood. Someone else teaching her to ride and how to do long division. And the thought of another man touching her mother’s perfect skin—

  His whole body jerked upright. Sapphire tossed her head and trotted off, tail swishing in agitation. Whoa… Where had that thought come from? And why was it so slow to drain away?

  He didn’t need to start indulging thoughts of that kind, and he didn’t need to start having in-depth discussions about his family with a woman like Lea Curran. That wasn’t going to help anybody.

  He pulled his hat down harder on his head, as if to squeeze inappropriate thoughts out, and set about luring the mare again.

  Two days later Reilly released God’s Gift to canter off to the middle of the paddock. ‘I’d like to leave the transporter here overnight, loaded with food and backed up to their yard, so the brumbies can explore it at their own pace. Tomorrow we get them on the truck and over to Minamurra.’

  Sensible, except…‘How will you get home tonight?’

  The look Reilly gave her was cautious. And loaded. ‘I was thinking of staying here.’

  ‘No.’ Absolutely not. ‘I’ll drive you home.’

  ‘It’s a six-hour round trip, Lea. You will not.’

  ‘You’ve been doing it every day.’

  ‘I’m not four and a half months’ pregnant. I can doss down in the tack compartment of the transporter.’

  Lea had seen that compartment; it was designed for stableboys and equipment, not for six-foot-plus men made of solid granite. ‘God’s Gift’s not going to go in there if he can smell you.’

  ‘We’ll give it a try.’

  She chewed her lip. Nightfall was still nine hours away and the heat meant they’d finished training for the day. ‘What will you do for the rest of the day?’ The thought of him hanging around at a loose end for hours was unsettling.

  He shrugged. ‘What do you and Molly normally do during the heat of the day?’

  Lately? While Lea’s body adjusted to supporting a new life and the weather was so disgusting? ‘Sleep. Read. Swim.’

  He stripped his hat off to wipe sweat from his forehead. Even hat hair and heat glow didn’t diminish his looks, all angles and equine lashes.

  ‘A swim sounds good,’ he said. ‘Where do you go?’

  There were a handful of swimming pools in the district, of the installed kind, but most landowners had access to natural pools that formed at the base of rocky outcrops. The tourists dominated the safe public ones that still had water in them after a long, hot dry season, and crocodiles dominated the rest.

  ‘Joyce’s Pool at the far edge of Yurraji is spring-fed and runs all year round.’ In the wet season it more than ran, it flooded with rain-wash, and created a spectacular billabong wetland filled with life. But in the dry season it subsided back to being smaller, deep and cold, fed directly from the aquifer.

  And it was very, very private.

  Lea’s heart sank that she was going to miss her daily swim. And on a sticky scorcher like today too. She sighed. ‘I’ll give you directions.’

  ‘I don’t want to run you off your swim. We can all go.’ His glance was casual. ‘I’d enjoy seeing Molly swim.’

  Right. An afternoon with Reilly Martin at the most secluded and pristine corner of the property—out of the question. Her hormones had been making things quite difficult enough without spending a few hours watching him cavort semi-naked in a natural spring. Even with a pint-sized chaperone.

  Reilly raised his voice so Molly could hear him from the porch where she played with her Middleton ponies. ‘What do you say, kiddo? A swim at Joyce’s Pool?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Molly did her happy dance, no doubt delighted at the prospect of showing her new friend her favourite swimming spot. Or floating spot, in Molly’s case, given her reliance on industrial-strength floatation aids.

  Reilly noticed Lea’s reluctance and his lips thinned. ‘Come on, Lea. You couldn’t be in safer company.’

  Hurt broiled in her chest. Because he drew the line at hitting on a pregnant woman? Or because he had no interest whatsoever in her, pregnant or otherwise? She gave herself a mental pinch. What did it matter? She shouldn’t care whether he looked at her as a woman or as a brood mare. The man wanted a swim. So did she. So did Molly.

  ‘Okay. Give me twenty minutes to find a swimsuit.’

  To find a swimsuit. Not my swimsuit.

  Lovely Lea Curran usually swam naked. Realisation hit Reilly out of nowhere and the unwanted, illicit image struck straight for his groin. Why wouldn’t she? Her own land, her own pool, her own rules, and a five-year-old who wouldn’t know the difference. Only Lea and the wildlife for a hundred-thousand lonely acres.

  Never mind that the occasional lost tourist might stumble upon a naked nymph drifting in the water. If they were smart they’d look their fill and then disappear back into the bush with that mental postcard for ever.

  Welco
me to the Kimberley!

  Lea’s hands moved surely on the steering wheel of her beat-up old four-by-four. Other than the air-conditioning, it was stripped back to nothing, a typical north-west working vehicle, and it handled the rocky track like it was on four sturdy legs. Lea wasn’t kidding about the pool being on the far side of her property. They’d set out diagonally across Yurraji a lifetime ago. It was slow, rough going, picking across the brutal terrain. Molly had become increasingly grizzly as the minutes had ticked by, even with the air-con on full.

  Joyce’s Pool must be something special to make this journey worth while all season.

  That swim was looking pretty good. With or without swimsuits.

  The naked swimmer fit the image of the wild, free spirit he’d been expecting to find. A leopard didn’t change its spots no matter how hard it was working to cover them up. So Lea galloped across the flats with her hair flying, and she liked to swim naked in ancient watering-holes. That fit. That was the woman that might get the district’s back up over animal-rights issues. That would raise a child defiantly on her own. That would struggle to make friends in the conservative grazing-country. That would become a target. He almost felt sorry for that woman.

  If not for the fact that that same woman had also cheated him out of a child.

  The pool, when they rumbled out from between thick scrub, was like a blue-green oasis. The Kimberley red rock had eroded to form pastry layers of pure, hardened magma, an ancient staircase down to the glassy emerald sheet that was the undisturbed waterhole surface.

  He had nothing like it on Minamurra, despite his station’s size. ‘It’s beautiful. How long have you been coming here?’ he asked.

  ‘Grandad first brought me when I was about eight. Just before Dad packed us off to boarding school.’ A shadow crossed her face.

  What put that there—memories of boarding school, her grandad or her father? And why did he care?

  They parked the vehicle and walked the remaining distance down to the water. It felt natural to Reilly to pick up a dozy Molly and save her the walk. Even the surrounding birds were sleeping off the worst of the midday heat, making the constant drone of insects the only sound for miles.