by Margaret Way
‘Since when do you wear a lot of clothes when you go swimming, my darling?’ Carrie asked. ‘Haven’t I rung you every night? Haven’t I told you how much I missed you?’
‘Not enough apparently,’ he said, allowing a deep sigh to escape him. ‘I took off before I embarrassed myself. And worse, you.’
‘Let’s face it, Clay,’ she said gently, ‘you made a mistake. Had you waited I could have introduced you to my half brother, Todd. When he heard about me, he decided on the spot he had to come home to meet me. He’s only just arrived. I would have told you tonight.’
Clay threw back his head, stunned. ‘Your half brother?’ If only he’d phoned ahead he would have been told and saved himself a lot of heartache.
Carrie pressed her lips to his throat. ‘My half brother,’ she confirmed. ‘I can’t marry him but I can marry you.’
Clay stared at her until his raging emotions cut back to a simmer. ‘I apologise,’ he said finally. ‘A man in love isn’t entirely sane.’
‘And I accept your apology,’ she said, feeling giddy with sheer delight. ‘I can’t believe you’re here with me.’ To prove it she hugged him. ‘About time, too.’
‘And your new family?’ Clay questioned, wanting to get things absolutely right. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to stay close to them? We go back to Jimboorie, they’ll be a long way away,’ he reminded her.
‘They’re not going out of my life, Clay,’ Carrie said. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘Of course not,’ he agreed, actually looking forward to meeting them. ‘But you won’t be able to see them on a daily basis or anything like that. There’ll just be me.’
She took his hand in hers. ‘I’m happy with that.’ She smiled into his eyes. ‘Hey, this reunion has been perfect, but my father and my half brothers have their own busy lives. Incidentally they all understand I love you. I’ve told them all about you. You have to meet them.’
‘What right now?’ Clay’s voice was a low purr in his throat.
‘No, not now.’ She pulled down his head and kissed him lingeringly on the mouth. ‘But tonight for dinner. I can’t wait to show you off. Besides, I haven’t quite forgiven you yet. You still have some work to do.’
‘Okay,’ he said in a smouldering voice, only too willing to prove his love.
‘By the way.’ Carrie deferred his ardent kisses for only a few seconds. ‘We’d better get busy on our wedding plans.’
Clay laughed. ‘I say we drink to that!’
‘There’s a bit more. If we don’t, Mamma and Leyland are going to beat us to it, would you believe? Alicia is still Alicia, if you know what I mean.’
Clay smiled back at her. ‘And Caroline is still Caroline,’ he murmured, starting to seriously make love to her.
This was a wonderful outcome to all his hopes and dreams. One lonely bush bachelor had found himself the perfect wife.
EPILOGUE
Jimboorie House
18 Months Later…
THE army of tradesmen—roofers, carpenters, plumbers, plasterers, polishers, painters and wallpaperers, electricians—had all packed up and gone home. At some stage they would return—there was still plenty of work to be done on the many bedrooms of the upper level—but for now restoration work on the mansion had progressed so wonderfully well that Clay and Carrie had thrown it open to the people of the town and the outlying stations. Jimboorie House, once the hub of social life for the vast central plains of Queensland was set to take its place again as the reigning ‘Princess’ of the vast district’s historic homesteads.
This particular gala day, a Saturday, had been set aside as a house warming for the very popular young couple whose splendid home it was and a fun day for all who had been invited. There was scarcely a soul—maybe one or two who had the sense to keep their resentments to themselves—who wasn’t thrilled and proud to see ‘the old girl’ Jimboorie House rise like a phoenix from the ashes. This was their heritage after all. Guests were milling around the house now marvelling at what had been done. So absolutely right—Carrie and her mother, Alicia, had received hundreds of compliments and congratulations. They had worked closely with the decorators over the long months, demonstrating their own considerable artistic flair and innate good taste.
To Carrie, who couldn’t quite believe in her own level of pure bliss, everything was a miracle. Finding Clay, her wonderful husband and her soul mate, was a miracle. Finding her real father another. The fact her and Clay’s wishes for a baby had been granted was yet another glorious miracle. She had recently had her pregnancy confirmed. She and Clay were over the moon. So were Alicia and Leyland who had married quietly only a few months before. The fact Senator Leyland Richards had a beautiful daughter from an old twenty-year-plus liaison—the revelation had received wide media coverage—in the end proved no impediment to his diplomatic posting to Washington. Alicia and Leyland had, in fact, delayed their departure to attend the restoration party, making it clear they would visit at every available opportunity. Try to keep them away! Prospective grandparents, they were overjoyed by Carrie’s news; Alicia promised she would return home for the birth.
Another stroke of good luck was that Bruce McNevin had very quickly consoled himself by taking a new wife, a rich socialite widow, still young enough to have a child. They were in fact on their honeymoon in Europe. Given their shared history and the fact they would be living in the same district, Clay and Carrie had decided, as they lived in an adult world, some kind of peace had to be made or at the very least an outward show of civility. Carrie hadn’t the slightest doubt Bruce still loved her mother, but destiny had planned for Alicia and Leyland to be reunited at long last.
Carrie stood at the French doors looking out over the beautifully restored garden and the magnificent central fountain now playing, smiling quietly to herself.
‘Now what’s that little smile about?’ Clay came up behind her wrapping his arms around her. Carrie was his life. Together they had made new life. He lowered his locked hands a fraction to press them lovingly against her tummy. ‘Love you,’ he murmured, the flame of desire never far from his blue eyes.
‘Love you,’ she whispered back, then gave a little ripple of laughter. ‘See out there? I was hoping and praying Natasha and Scott would make a go of it.’
Clay looked out at the young couple who were the focus of her attention. Blond and raven heads together, they were pushing what had to be the Rolls-Royce of prams.
‘Well it didn’t happen overnight,’ Clay remarked quietly, ‘but it is happening, thank God. Natasha is certainly a different woman.’ Natasha in fact had become a routine visitor to Jimboorie saying she was family all along.
‘Motherhood suits her,’ Carrie who was looking breathtakingly beautiful in her trouble-free early pregnancy observed. ‘I was wrong all along about Scott. He wasn’t going to turn his back on his child.’
‘I don’t believe his parents were going to let him.’ Clay’s retort was dry. ‘But he seems determined to be a father. So good for him!’
‘Well he has an excellent reason to get his life together,’ Carrie said. ‘Sean is a beautiful little boy.’
‘And he’ll have another cousin before long,’ Clay said, bending his head to kiss his wife’s satin cheek. ‘God, how happy you’ve made me, Carrie!’ he breathed. ‘Supremely happy! You’ve even with your compassion turned Natasha into a friend. Not content with that, you’ve caused the Cunninghams to beg forgiveness for past wrongs.’
‘It was you who did the forgiving,’ she reminded him, enormously proud of her husband.
‘How could I lock the old bitterness into my heart when I had such love in my own life?’ he said simply.
Carrie’s soft sigh was eloquent of her happiness. A special radiance emanated from her, visible for all to see. She pressed back against her husband’s lean strong body, her head on his chest. ‘And the greatest joy is yet to come,’ she promised, placing her hands over his on her very gently rounded tummy.
‘I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more beautiful,’ Clay whispered, ‘but you are!’
And his voice was hushed with awe.
It wasn’t until the gala day was drawing to an end that Clay was approached by a young man, around his own age, who thrust out his hand.
‘It is Clay, isn’t it?’ The man smiled. ‘Clay Dyson? Used to be overseer on Havilah a couple of years back?’
Clay’s face broke into a warm answering smile as he recognised Rory Compton, scion of one of the wealthiest cattle families in the Channel Country deep into the southwest. ‘Cunningham now, Rory,’ Clay said as they shook hands. ‘Cunningham is my real name, by the way. How are you and what are you doing so far from home? Not that it isn’t great to see you.’
‘Great to see you!’ Rory responded with sincerity. He hadn’t known Clay Dyson all that well, but what he had seen and heard he had liked. ‘So what’s the story, Clay? And this homestead!’ He gazed towards it. ‘It’s magnificent!’
‘It is,’ Clay agreed proudly. ‘There is a story, of course. A long one. I’ll tell you sometime, but to cut it short it all came about through a bitter family feud. You know about them?’
‘I do,’ Rory answered with a faint grimace.
‘Mercifully the feud has been put to bed,’ Clay said with satisfaction. ‘My great-uncle Angus left me all this.’ He threw out his arm with a flourish. ‘Caroline, that’s my wife and I, have only recently called a halt to the renovations. They were mighty extensive and mighty expensive. What I inherited was a far cry from what you see now.’
‘So I believe.’ Rory nodded. ‘I’m staying at the Jimboorie pub. The publican told me about the open day out here. I’m glad I came.’
‘So am I.’ Clay’s attractive smile lit up his features. ‘Have you met Caroline yet?’
‘The very beautiful blonde with the big brown eyes?’ Rory gave the other man a sideways grin.
‘That’s Caroline.’ Clay couldn’t keep the proud smile off his face.
‘I haven’t had the pleasure as yet,’ Rory said. ‘I only arrived about thirty minutes ago, but I’m looking forward to it. You’re one lucky guy, Cunningham!’
‘You should talk!’ Clay scoffed, totally unaware of Rory’s current situation. ‘How’s Jay and your dad?’ he said pleasantly.
‘Jay’s fine,’ Rory said. ‘He’s the heir. My dad and I had one helluva bust-up.’
Clay could see the pain behind the level tone. ‘That’s rough! I’m sorry to hear it.’
‘It was a long time coming,’ Rory said quietly. ‘The upshot being I didn’t have much choice but to hit the road. I have some money set aside from my granddad. I guess he thought I might need it sometime. What I’m looking for now is a spread of my own. Nothing like Jimboorie of course. I’m nowhere in your league, but a nice little run I can bring up to scratch and sell off as I move up the chain.’
Clay looked into the middle distance, a thoughtful frown between his brows. ‘You know I might be able to help you there,’ he said slowly, already turning ideas over in his head. He knew of Rory Compton’s reputation as a highly skilled cattleman with more vision than his dad and his elder brother put together. ‘Why don’t you come back inside. Meet Caroline. Stay to dinner. You’re not desperate to get back to town are you?’
‘Heck, no!’ Rory felt a whole lot better in two minutes flat. ‘I’d love to stay if it’s okay with your beautiful wife?’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Clay assured him. ‘Caroline will be pleased to meet you. And we’ll both have time to catch up.’
‘Great!’
Destiny has an amazing way of throwing people together.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8219-7
OUTBACK MAN SEEKS WIFE
First North American Publication 2007.
Copyright © 2006 by Margaret Way, Pty., Ltd.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com