“Colin can ride her from now on.” He unhitched the saddle and pulled it from the horse, hanging it on the wall.
“So can I,” she said implacably, grabbing the saddle and preparing to resaddle Starfire.
His expression turned as dark as night thunder. “Don’t do it, Laila.”
About to snap back, she looked deeper—and saw the haunting fear beneath the anger in his face. So taut, holding it all inside some cavern in his soul…but feeling so much beneath the mask he chose to show to the world. “Give me a good reason, and I’ll think about it.”
“Riding puts the baby at risk. You’re almost a vet—you should know that!”
Slowly she shook her head. “That’s a fallacy, Jake,” she said quietly. “All studies done in the past few years show that, while cross-country training and showjumping can have some risk, normal riding—cantering, not galloping—carries no risk to the mother or child.”
Obviously about to argue, he stopped and stared hard at her. “You’ve looked it up?”
“Of course I have. I want this baby to be safe and well.” Though she was tired and her tummy felt tight, wearing her out faster than she’d ever dreamed, she spoke with all the patience and reason she could muster. Something was going on here that she didn’t understand, and she wanted to. “It was one of the first things I asked Dr. Broughton.”
“He’s a specialist, right?” Jake’s voice was somehow portentous of something deeper.
She nodded. “He’s an obstetric surgeon who works out of Bathurst and Dubbo.”
“He knows your case.”
“Yes, of course. He saw me for four months.”
“And our local Flying Doctor?”
“I saw him last week.” She shrugged, wishing she knew where he was heading with this; but she hadn’t slept well last night, and her head felt stuffed with clouds. “You know how it is out here. They’re fantastic, and they have copies of Dr. Broughton’s notes, but you take the doctor who comes to the clinic, or the midwife, unless complications arise—but so far none have. It’s been a textbook pregnancy.”
“Textbook pregnancies can turn on a pin to become deadly. The death rate out here is ten times that of towns with facilities. You’ve been warned of that?”
“Of course I have, but I’m an Outback girl—and we Robbinses are tough. I know the risks.” She frowned. “What’s your point, Jake? It’s obvious you have one.”
“The same point I made a few weeks ago.” He took her hands in his, his gaze searching hers. “I want us to move to Bathurst until the baby’s a few months old, at least. Until you finish your course, if that’s what you want. I’m well able to support us.”
Her frown grew. She felt lost between the urge to snap, to warn him against trying to take her independence from her, and following the instinct screaming at her that there were deeper waters here, with rips and eddies she didn’t understand. The fact that he was touching her at all showed that he felt very strongly about this. He wasn’t trying to seduce her—he was in deadly earnest. “My grandfather left me enough to live on for the next twenty years. I haven’t touched any since I first bought furniture for my flat in Bathurst. Money isn’t the issue, Jake. I’d like to know what your real problem is.”
A muscle tic began beside his mouth before he clamped his teeth together. His eyes burned, yet were as cold as a winter night. A minute passed until he spoke. “You and the baby will be safe. I won’t let anyone—even you—put you or the baby in danger.”
There was that vow again—and those deep, cold undercurrents were pulling her under. “What has that to do with this moving to Bathurst idea?”
He looked at her as if she’d lost her marbles. “You and the baby need to be near good facilities. A good maternity ward, with an obstetrician and surgeon close at hand. Out here you’re hours from help.”
She shook her head, trying to clear it. With every word he spoke he confused her more. “Dr. Broughton is only at Bathurst twice a month. It’s only places like Sydney or Melbourne, or the bigger coastal cities like Newcastle, that have those facilities on tap.”
“Then we’ll move to Sydney.”
Now she did gasp. “You’re crazy. Nothing would induce me to move to a big city!”
“We can go to Newcastle, then.” He nodded, with a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “That’s only about an hour’s drive from the Ghost Gum estate, right? That’s only fifteen minutes by air. You’d be more settled there.”
“More like two hours. Ghost Gum’s on the northwestern fringes of the Hunter Valley.”
He made a savage sound. “Stop putting up roadblocks, Laila. This is going to happen.”
“Only if you make it happen by abduction, Connors, because I won’t go willingly.” She backed off when he reached out to touch her. “Don’t. It won’t work. I won’t be shoved around like a pawn on your chessboard. Don’t expect me to go anywhere with you while you’re still locking me out of your life and your reasons for packing me up and taking me from my home.”
“I wanted to take you to Bathurst—that was your home for seven years,” he growled, taking a step toward her, then another and another, his eyes gleaming with the sensual intent that told her he was going to kiss her into it if he could.
And she hated the way she’d already gone breathless and flushed. Waiting, waiting.
“Laila.” He growled still, but soft, predatory. And he was so beautiful.
Need slammed into her, scrambling her argument. What had they been talking about, and did it matter, anyway? Everything she wanted was right here in front of her…
She swayed into him, lost. Her eyes fluttered shut as he brought her into his arms.
The raw, scorching passion she’d hungered for still wasn’t in evidence—but oh, the tender nibbling on her lips, along her jaw, and the fluttering kisses on her throat, were more than enough—somehow so exquisite, it was more than she could take. Her knees almost gave way. “Oh, Jake,” she whispered, holding on tight to him, in case he disappeared on her again.
He whispered back as he held her up and close against him. “Come with me to Bathurst, Laila. You won’t regret it.”
If he’d shorn through her sensual haze with a pair of wool shearers he couldn’t have ripped it apart more effectively; but being Laila, she wouldn’t give in or back down. She stood on her tiptoes until her mouth was against his ear. “No, Jake,” she whispered back.
His sigh was the last thing to touch her skin before he gently released her. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“No, you are.” She held him off with an upraised hand. “Don’t manipulate me—just tell me why. Tell me your real reasons for taking me away from my family, and I promise you, I’ll think about it.”
Without a word he turned and stalked off toward the shearers’ quarters; but the paleness of his skin, and his dark, burning eyes, told her far more than his lips ever had.
Without warning, a sudden, rippling pain gripped her lower belly. She gasped, grabbing hold of where her baby rested, panic slaking through her. “Jake…”
Her voice was too soft for him to hear—and she was going to fall down any moment. The quivering pains were growing stronger by the moment.
“Jake…”
He turned, and was running to her in moments. “Laila!” As she started to crumple he was there, lifting her in his arms; but his look of utter panic didn’t reassure her. “What is it?”
“Pain,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. She couldn’t help him now; she had to concentrate. Her hands held tight to her belly. Stay in there, my little man. Stay safe with your mummy. Don’t go, my baby!
She felt him running—probably toward the house, to get help…but he didn’t jerk her, not once. He carried her as if she were something precious.
He laid her down somewhere cool and comfortable moments later. “We’re in the clinic room, Laila.” A soft sound, and the blinds were closed. “I’m calling the Flying Doctors and your obstet
rician—but I need to check for spotting or bleeding.” He said the last word as if he’d forced it out of a closed throat. “I need to do it now. I need to know what’s going on with you.”
She knew she should be embarrassed, to say he had no right to check her so intimately—she should insist he call Marcie. But all she did was nod. She had to know, now. Her baby, her sweet, lovely baby…he had to be safe!
And like it or not, Jake did have the right. She’d given him the right by taking him to her bed, and conceiving this baby. This was his child, too, his life and future.
Her maternity jeans were peeled from her hips and down her thighs with exquisite care. Her panties followed, and she felt no embarrassment, only the all-consuming fear for her baby—a feeling she knew he shared. They were together on this. She wasn’t alone.
He checked her underwear, and gave a gentle sigh. “No bleeding.” With infinite tenderness, he replaced her clothing—but he lifted her maternity top to reveal her rounded stomach. “Hang in there, little one,” he whispered. “We’ll get the doctor for your mummy. We’ll make this right.” And slowly, gently, he kissed the mound of her pregnancy, then again.
He lifted his face and looked at Laila, his eyes filled with a tender longing she’d never seen in him—and he leaned down again to kiss her mouth. “We’ll get through this, Laila. I swear everything will be all right.”
Foolish tears rushed to her eyes. She opened her arms to him, and they held each other for a very long time.
Finally, reluctantly it seemed, he straightened. “I’m going to get your father and Marcie now.” He covered her with the standard-issue cell blanket, and turned on the air-conditioning unit. “Don’t move. Just rest, Laila. I’ll be back soon.”
If she had to pass one more boring day doing nothing, she’d head back to Bathurst on the first flight…if she weren’t certain Jake would be on that same flight, or the one following.
They were all driving her crazy—especially Jake. So far he’d flown Dr. Broughton up here to examine her, hired a permanent midwife to stay at Wallaby until the baby’s birth—or, as he’d said, until she agreed to go somewhere safer—and all but locked her in the house, citing the baby’s safety every time she put a foot out of doors without a companion.
What would be next…security cameras to follow her every move?
Laila blew out a sigh of frustration. For the past ten days, since Dr. Broughton had pronounced her cramps to be a stronger than normal form of the common Braxton-Hicks contractions and put her on medication, it seemed everyone was in league against her. She couldn’t ride, couldn’t help with grooming or fencing, and roundups were absolutely out. Dr. Broughton hadn’t said a word about constant rest; the family had taken his words that way. Marcie’s four miscarriages had left her paranoid; Dar was clucking around Laila day and night. Jake checked on her every hour. If it was up to Jake she’d never leave the house—or her bed. Dar had put Jake on duties near the house, so her incarceration could be permanently enforced.
One incident of cramps the doctor said were perfectly normal in the second trimester, if hers were stronger than usual—and Jake was her personal bodyguard…no, her bulldog, growling if she moved out of doors. Glenn and Andrew were in on the conspiracy.
Laila didn’t feel cherished; she felt smothered. It was enough to make her wonder if they all thought she was the first person on earth to ever get pregnant.
It could have been touching to think Jake felt such concern…if she could believe his concern was for her, instead of all for the baby. But since the time they’d held each other in the clinic, he’d withdrawn again. He fussed over her, gave her physical and emotional support, was always worried about something, but his heart wasn’t there—at least not for her. She was the carrier of Jake Connors’s baby, and the Robbins clan’s first grandchild. Nothing more.
So here she was, stuck inside the house for the first time in her outdoor-loving life, allowed out for two half-hour walks every day. She was ready to throttle someone. Jake, for preference, though right now, Dar, Drew or Glenn would also do nicely.
At this moment she was reduced to mixing cakes for Marcie, ordering the catering and doing all the traditional female things for the nonengagement “baby celebration” party—Dar’s over-the-top concession to her feelings. You think we’re ashamed to show your pregnancy in front of the community? We’ll show you! We’ll show them all.
Such a Robbins thing to do. If you can’t have it your way, pretend to the hilt that it is your way. Dar had called her bluff in spectacular style, before the whole community—and she was sure Jake was in on the plot somehow. Let’s see how long she holds out from the wedding, when the whole community knows…
She refused to buckle. She’d go along with the party—she’d even make the best cake and the best aperitifs she could. Since she was about to become a mother, she needed to know how to cook, and Marcie was the best. But Dar was in for a few surprises tonight—and so was Jake.
Later that afternoon, Laila twisted the chains back and forth to make the swing twirl, watching the sun fall in the last hour before the guests began arriving.
Her bum was barely fitting into the swing anymore. She’d expected to grow, breasts and tummy, but why were her hips spreading already? And as for those little dimples coming up…! Soon she wouldn’t fit on the swing at all, or in her bed. She’d have to buy a new one.
What does that matter? You sleep alone anyway, no matter what size bed you get.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
She didn’t bother to turn around; the voice, dark and hot as a night fire, was permanently imprinted on her senses, her own personal torture: she was always unable to reach out to really touch that beautiful fire.
“You and everyone else.” She twirled the swing again, enjoying the comforting familiarity of twisting from side to side. A collective screech came overhead, as cockatoos flew from tree to tree, finding their night nests.
“Feeling crowded, are you?”
She shrugged. “It won’t hurt the baby if I indulge in some emotion.”
The old swing creaked as he twisted the chain so the swing—and Laila—turned to face him. “Have you thought about what I said? About relocating to Bathurst until the baby’s born?”
The bulldog was back, trying to take her last bone from her. Heaven knew she didn’t want to be here, smothered to screaming point—but—
She frowned, keeping her gaze on the sunset sky. So lovely, rich and colorful—and free. Through a tight throat, she whispered, “I think I’d be lonely there. I’d hate to be there with all my classmates finishing in a few months, too busy to see me, and without the family.”
“You’d have me,” he reminded her quietly.
She nodded. “Like I said, I’d be lonely.”
Having thrown her emotional bomb, she waited for the inevitable coldness and withdrawal from her; instead, she got a thoughtful, “I know it must hurt not finishing this year, Laila—but you will finish your course. I’ll make certain of it.”
Her throat thickened, thinking of going back there without Jodie, Danni and Jimmy. Living as the Princess all over again, with no friends, no love…
A gentle touch to her cheek snapped her out of her reverie. “You look as though you’ve lost your last friend,” he said, with genuine caring in his voice. “Want to talk about it?”
Laila looked up, filled with sudden, blazing hope, but it died within seconds. He was doing everything so right, yet it all felt wrong. He was leaning over her, his gaze on her, his entire attention on what she wanted—but while his eyes held concern, it was cool; his hands were back on the chain, inches from her own hands.
He might care, but his caring was light-years from the love and tenderness she needed, and hadn’t once seen since the day she’d had the pains. Giving everything to her except the one thing that would ensure her well-being: his heart.
His self-protection was like a shield made of steel, it was so cold, so hard and implaca
ble.
“Time to get ready for the party. Were you sent out to make sure I don’t embarrass everyone by turning up in something inappropriate?” She sighed and plucked at the big, loose shorts. “No need to worry. I can’t fit into anything but maternity stuff anymore, and it’s all the pretty stuff Marcie bought for her last baby.”
“You know that’s not why I came out here.”
Gripping the chain tighter, she kept her voice level. “I haven’t done anything strenuous. I’ve taken my vitamins, eaten my fruit and vegetables, had my two liters of water, and had a walk. I didn’t go near the horses. I didn’t leave the grounds. The baby is fine.”
“Laila.”
She turned her head away at the quiet rebuke in his voice. Oh, no, that stupid weepy thing was about to happen, and she’d rather die than cry in front of him again. “What have I done wrong this time? I’m doing everything the doctor said to do. I’m sitting around, bored to tears day and night. What else do you want from me?”
The quiet stretched out over time, maybe moments only, but she felt ready to scream by the time he finally spoke. “You’re unhappy, Laila.”
Wrapping her arms around the chains, she pulled them together to interlace her fingers. “Oh, gee, and I thought I was doing such a good job of hiding it.”
“Let me help you, Laila. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it your course? You want to go back and take pickup classes until the baby’s born? We can do that. We can do anything you want.”
She shook her head, trying so hard not to cry. Living here with him nearby was bad enough, but living with him, knowing he didn’t love her…
She cried out as he released the swing and she shot around, overcompensating the rotation once, twice. Then he grabbed it again from the other side, lower down as he squatted before her. “Come on, Laila, please. What do you need?”
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