An early marriage hadn’t figured in his scheme.
‘Are you sure about this, Jacob?’
With his arms about her waist, he leaned back to look at her and he frowned as if this were a matter of life and death. ‘I’ve never been surer, Nell. I know I don’t have much to offer you. You deserve an educated husband, someone rich.’
It was exactly what her parents might say but, coming from him, it sounded wrong. She opened her mouth to protest, but Jacob hurried on.
‘I love you, Nell, I swear. And I promise I’ll look after you. I’ll work hard. I’ll get two jobs. I’ll make enough money for you and the baby and one of these days we’ll have our own place. A big property like Half Moon.’
He was so determined and defiant and Greek god gorgeous he banished her fears as easily as the sun scattered mist.
He said again, ‘I love you. You must know that.’
‘Yes.’ Smiling through happy tears, she wrapped her arms tightly around him. ‘And I love you so much it hurts.’
Nell lifted her lips to meet his and they kissed deeply, hungrily. She clung to Jacob, confident that his hard, lean strength would protect her for ever.
‘Everything’s going to be wonderful,’ she said and his face broke into a beautiful grin.
‘So you’ll marry me?’
‘Oh, yes, please. Absolutely.’
‘Yes!’
His sudden, joyful whoop startled a flock of finches in a nearby wattle. With another loud shout of triumph, he hoisted Nell high and their laughter mingled with the birds’ cries as he spun her around and around in happy circles.
They were going to be married. With their baby, they would be a little family. No one would stop them. All was right with their world.
Jacob slowed before Nell got too dizzy and he let her back to earth, let her body ride slowly…slowly down his muscled length till she reached where he was hard and she almost burst into flames.
Again their mouths met, hungrier than ever. Nell poured her heart and soul into the kiss, wanting him to be certain of how intensely, wildly, completely she loved him.
His hands slipped under her shirt and skimmed lightly over her skin, giving her exquisite shivers.
Abruptly, the stillness of the summer morning was broken by the sound of a cold metallic click.
They froze.
Nell felt Jacob’s heart leap against hers as they turned.
Her father stood in the shadows, his face flushed with red fury as he shouldered a shotgun and took aim.
CHAPTER ONE
THE service was over.
Nell knew she must get up and walk outside, but she wasn’t sure she could trust her legs to carry her. She had never felt so bereft, didn’t know how to cope with the sense of loss.
It was so much worse today than twenty years ago, when they’d taken Tegan away from her. She had been in hospital then, too ill and medicated to fully understand what was happening. This week, a highway smash that rated a thirty-second mention on the six o’clock news had taken her daughter away from her for ever. Today there was nothing to deaden Nell’s pain.
Her memories of Tegan were so few. And so cruel. The newborn bundle in her arms, the strong little limbs kicking against the tightly wrapped blanket, just as they had kicked in her womb. The little face and bright, dark eyes. The soft cap of dark hair, the tiny red mouth. The unique, newborn smell of her.
The memories cut into Nell and she wished she could gather her pain around her and disappear completely. It was a blessing, at least, that everyone’s sympathy had been showered on Jean and Bill Browne, the couple who had adopted Tegan. Nell knew she must go and speak to them, just as soon as she regained her composure.
‘Nell?’
Nell turned stiffly and saw Jean approaching the end of her pew, twisting a damp handkerchief as she peered at her anxiously.
‘Jean.’ With a hand on the back of the pew for support, Nell struggled to her feet. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you yet.’
The two women—adoptive mother and birth mother—stood, facing each other. Jean Browne looked exhausted, her pale blue eyes rimmed with red, her short grey hair flat and lifeless.
‘Please—’ The women had met before, on the day after the accident, but now, unable to think clearly, to find the right words, Nell clung to formalities. ‘Please accept my condolences.’
Jean’s pale eyes swam with tears. ‘This is hard for you, too.’
‘Yes.’ Fighting a dull headache, Nell gathered up her handbag and continued along the pew on unsteady legs. ‘I’ve mentioned this to you before, but I want you to know that I’m very, very grateful to you and Bill. You gave Tegan a wonderfully happy home and—and everything she needed.’
Jean nodded, sent Nell a fleeting, watery smile, then her face crumpled. ‘You were such a help the other day. I’ve been hoping to speak to you. About the baby.’
Nell pressed shaking fingers to her mouth. She’d broken down completely during the eulogy, when the speaker had mentioned Tegan’s little son, born just a few short weeks ago.
‘I had to leave Sam with a sitter today,’ Jean said. ‘But I knew that you would like to see him again, especially as Mr Tucker’s here as well.’
‘Mr Tucker?’
‘Tegan’s father.’
If Nell hadn’t been clutching the back of the pew, she would almost certainly have fallen.
Jacob Tucker was here?
Had he been here throughout the funeral?
An unbearable, thrilling, panicky terror gripped her as Jean flicked a sideways glance back down the aisle. Like the needle of a magnet, Nell whirled around and there was Jacob, standing at the back of the chapel, near the door, tall and stern, with his shoulders back.
His face was partly in shadow but there was no mistaking his chiselled features. All trace of the smooth-skinned boy had vanished, but his strong brows and nose, the handsome cleft in his chin, were still, after twenty years, painfully familiar.
He was wearing a dark suit but, despite the city clothes, the Outback clung to him like a second skin. It was there in the tan on his skin, in the hard-packed leanness of his body, in the creases at his eyes, in the way he stood, poised for action.
And there was a roughness about him now that was unsettling. Devastating.
Nell could still remember with perfect clarity the first time she’d seen him in her father’s stables, remembered the shock of attraction that had startled her, enslaved her. She remembered, too, the awful morning on the river bank, the last time she had seen him.
Apart from the occasional photo in cattlemen’s magazines—and yes, she’d scanned them regularly, hungry for any news of Jacob Tucker—she knew next to nothing about his life. He’d become a very successful grazier, but there had been no contact between them in twenty years so his private life was a blank.
‘I’ve already spoken to Mr Tucker,’ Jean said.
On cue, from the back of the chapel, Jacob offered Nell an unsmiling, almost imperceptible dip of his head.
Her heart pounded. Now she could see the expression in his eyes, the way he looked at her with a mixture of pain and contempt.
She tightened her grip on the back of the pew. With another despairing glance at Jacob, she turned back to Jean. ‘I’m sorry. What were you saying?’
‘I thought Mr Tucker might like to meet Sam. And I wanted to talk