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Single Father: Wife and Mother Wanted
Sharon Archer


Needed: a mother for his son Caring vet Caitlin Butler-Brown has come to this small Australian town to find the family she’s never known – but she’ll never admit that her eagerness to stay has anything to do with gorgeous GP Matt Gardiner!Whether she’s delivering foals or mothering abandoned puppies, Caitlin has well and truly captured the dedicated single dad’s heart – and has certainly put the smile back on his young son’s face.Caitlin longs to fulfil all their dreams and become part of their family permanently – but first she has a secret to reveal. A secret that could change everything…













Matt grinned at Caitlin. ‘How about a nice family outing one day while you’re here? What about Sunday? I can make up a picnic lunch.’



Caitlin sniffed, blinking away the quick rush of moisture that blurred her vision.



The last thing she needed was a complication in the form of a man. Especially one with a child. Regardless of how charming they both were.



It wouldn’t be fair to them…She didn’t do relationships or family well.



She didn’t know how to make them work, had no blueprint to guide her.



No, she had no business wishing she could see more of Matt and his precious son.



None whatsoever.



But the longing in her to be accepted, to be included, made it impossible for her to decline Matt’s invitation. The way this family swept her into their centre delighted her and terrified her in equal measure.


Born in New Zealand, SHARON ARCHER now lives in County Victoria, Australia, with her husband Glenn, one lame horse and five pensionable hens. Always an avid reader, she discovered Mills & Boon


as a teenager, through Lucy Walker’s fabulous Outback Australia stories. Now she lives in a gorgeous bush setting, and loves the native fauna that visits regularly…Well, maybe not the possum which coughs outside the bedroom window in the middle of the night.

The move to an acreage brought a keen interest in bushfire management (she runs the fireguard group in her area), as well as free time to dabble in woodwork, genealogy (her advice is…don’t get her started!), horse-riding and motorcycling—as a pillion passenger or in charge of the handlebars.

Free time turned into words on paper! The dream to be a writer gathered momentum! And, with a background in a medical laboratory, what better line to write for than Mills & Boon


Medical


Romance?

This is Sharon’s first book for Mills & Boon


Medical


Romance!




SINGLE FATHER: WIFE AND MOTHER WANTED

BY

SHARON ARCHER





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Thank you to Anna Campbell, Rachel Bailey and Marion Lennox—for your honesty when I asked for your opinion, and for fun, friendship and tons of encouragement.

Thanks, too, to my ever-patient medical friends, Judy Griffiths and paramedic Bruce.

To Rhonda Smith, friend and neighbour, who read this in an early draft and liked it!

To the members of Romance Writers of Australia for support, above and beyond.

And to Glenn: husband, hero and believer!



SINGLE FATHER: WIFE AND MOTHER WANTED




CHAPTER ONE


GHOSTLY gum trees loomed in the fog then slid away to the side as Matt Gardiner drove cautiously through the deserted countryside. With visibility reduced to metres, the route looked unfamiliar. No chance of using the craggy peaks of the Grampians as a point of orientation this morning.

Beside him sat his ten-year-old son, uncharacteristically quiet. Nicky Gardiner was in big, big trouble. Matt suppressed a shudder at the thought of the dangerous game Nicky and his friend had devised to entertain themselves. At this point, grounding for life sounded good.

Finally, Matt spotted the hazard-warning triangle he’d put out earlier at the site of Jim Neilson’s accident. He pulled onto the verge behind a tiny sports car.

The vehicle’s driver was crossing to the fence where Jim’s truck and horse float had ploughed through into the paddock beyond.

As he unbuckled his seat belt, Matt watched a figure pick a path across the green swathe that the runaway truck had slashed through the frost. An elegance of movement suggested the person could be a woman. Bundled up in a huge padded black jacket and hat, she looked more like the Michelin Man.

Seven-thirty. He felt like he’d been on the road for hours. Between yesterday morning’s delivery of a slightly premature baby and last night’s acute asthma attack in one of his younger patients, he was beyond tired. With the respiratory emergency resolved, he’d been on his way home more than an hour ago only to discover the sometime horse breeder’s latest debacle.

Nothing had been straightforward. Poor phone reception had meant a trip into town to organise the tow truck instead of a simple phone call. Which, as it had happened, had worked out well since he’d been close by to deal with the fallout from the boys’ adventure. An overnight stay with a mate had ended with a sword fight with real machetes, for heaven’s sake. He tamped down another shiver at what could have happened to the would-be elf lords.

Matt glanced at his son, stifling the fresh words of censure that threatened to bound off his tongue. Instead, he managed to keep it mild. ‘Stay in the car, Nicky. I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Sure, Dad.’ At least he sounded subdued. Like he might have realised he’d pushed his father too far.

Frigid air seared Matt’s lungs when he stepped out of the warmth of his car.

Steady, rattling thumps were battering the foggy tranquillity. From the confines of the horse float, Jim’s four-legged passenger didn’t sound happy.

Matt rubbed his face, enjoying the momentary relief of chilled fingertips against the lids of his tired eyes. He wanted to go home to bed, snatch maybe a half-hour nap before starting work. He shrugged away thoughts of quilt-covered comfort. No chance of that this morning. Not now.

He tucked his hands into his pockets and trudged after the driver of the sports car.

Brittle spears of frosty grass crunched beneath his feet and his breath plumed in front of his face. Winter was reaching into the second month of spring to give inland Victoria one final taste of its power. Hard to believe another two months could see them sweltering in the heat of the Australian summer.

He saw Jim scramble out of the cab of the truck. Frustration was obvious in every movement of his barrel-like body as he stomped back towards the horse float.

As soon as he let the man know the tow truck would be at least two hours, Matt could take his son home. Take time to have a serious talk. His heart clenched tight. Didn’t Nicky realise how precious every single hair on his head was?

Even Nicky’s mother, a very absentee and uninterested parent, would take a dim view of their son getting stabbed.

Ahead, the newcomer paused by the tangled wreckage of the fence. ‘Would you need a hand, then?’ a husky female voice called into a small pocket of silence.

Matt’s stride faltered and his breath caught at the sound of the lilting Irish accent.

Ridiculous. He must be even more sleep deprived than he’d thought if a woman’s voice could have that sort of effect.

Suddenly, all the tension of the morning coalesced and unreasonable anger flared deep in his gut. Why had she stopped at the accident? The truck and float were thoroughly bogged down. No way was her tiny sports car going to be any use. She was only going to get in the damned way.

From the paddock, Jim shot a disgruntled look in their direction before opening the trailer door to heave himself inside.

Matt drew level with the woman. ‘Unless you can morph into the Incredible Hulk or you’re a certified fairy godmother, there’s probably not much you can do,’ he said, not even trying to curb his sarcasm.

But as soon as he began to speak, she turned and fixed him with direct smoky-grey eyes. He swallowed. Brown curls peeped out from beneath the hat, curved onto her sculpted cheekbones and disappeared beneath her padded collar. She was lovely.

The package screamed affluence.

And sex appeal.

His pulse spiked.

‘Is that so?’ Even her voice was seductive. Deep with that intriguing foreign burr.

His gaze settled on her mouth. The full lips were lightly covered with a tempting gloss. Matt’s mouth and throat felt parched.

He hadn’t kissed a woman for a long time. A very, very long time.

Matt blinked as he struggled to direct his thoughts in a less unnerving direction. An apology. He was being obnoxious. She was a passer-by trying to do the right thing. He had no right to take his accumulated ill-humour out on her.

He twisted his mouth into a smile as he tried to dredge up the right words. The apology froze on his tongue as she tilted her head to look along the length of her perfect straight nose. Thick lashes swept down, narrowing her eyes to a dismissive glare. He felt as though someone had paralysed his rib muscles, trapping the air in his chest.

A frantic whinny and a shout from the stranded vehicle shattered the moment. The woman swivelled back to the trailer and his lungs resumed functioning.

He wanted her to look at him again. To speak again. ‘Of course,’ he said, as he walked beside her towards the horse float, ‘a horse whisperer could be just as good as a fairy godmother.’

‘I might surprise you, now, mightn’t I?’ But she didn’t bother to glance his way.

Jim shot through the door, backside first, as the float rocked under the impact of several solid thumps. It sounded as though the horse inside was trying to kick its way out.

After slamming the door, Jim turned to scowl at their approach.

‘Problem?’ said Matt.

‘Uppity mare. Tried to take my arm off.’

Matt glanced down to see blood seeping between the man’s fingers where he clutched his forearm.

He sighed. Home just got further away. ‘You’d better let me have a look.’

The messy red fingers shook as they uncurled. Matt grimaced when he saw the wound; large tooth marks scalloped the edges. ‘Nasty. You’ll need stitches.’

‘It’ll mend, I’ve had worse.’ After a quick peek at his arm, Jim’s florid cheeks turned an unhealthy grey. ‘No need to fuss. I’m not one to see the quack unless I have to.’

‘And a tetanus booster.’ Matt was aware the woman followed as he escorted Jim to the flat tray of the truck. An occasional hint of her floral perfume tempted him to breathe deeply.

‘Sit. Do you feel faint?’

‘Of course not.’ Colour washed back into the man’s face.

‘I need to get my bag.’ Matt turned his head to look at the woman. ‘If he feels faint, get him to lie down.’

‘I don’t need a nanny.’ Jim set his jaw.

Silvery eyes slanted up to meet Matt’s in a flash of unexpected communion. One brow arched expressively. ‘I will.’ Her lips twitched and he found his own curving in response.

He was left with the impression she’d be firm and efficient if Jim required her ministrations.

‘What would be the problem with your mare, then?’ the woman asked as Matt turned away. He heard Jim mumble a response.

As he made the return journey a few minutes later, having reassured Nicky that he wouldn’t be long, Matt could see she still stood guard, arms folded. He gave in to temptation and ran an appreciative eye over her slender legs, feeling a sneaking regret that the warm jacket hid the rest of her.

She looked around at his approach and he found his pulse bumping all over again as the impact of her features hit him afresh.

He set his bag beside Jim, his fingers on the catch fumbling, oddly uncoordinated. How long since the proximity of a member of the opposite sex had affected him so badly? He couldn’t remember.

‘I didn’t have the opportunity to play Florence Nightingale, more’s the pity.’ Her smoky eyes sparkled with humour.

‘Better luck next time.’ Good grief. It wasn’t just his hands that fumbled at her nearness, it was his wits as well.

‘Do you need a hand?’ she murmured.

‘What? Oh, no. Thanks.’

She stepped back. Half relieved, half disappointed, he snapped on a pair of latex gloves and turned his attention to the mangled forearm. After irrigating the area with saline, he probed the torn flesh, pleased to see no sign of foreign material in the wound.

He dried the surrounding skin after applying antiseptic then closed the ragged edges as tidily as he could with steri-strips. Digging around in his bag, he found a packet of sterile gauze dressing and a crêpe bandage.

The sounds from the float were quietening, he noted peripherally as he worked. At least that aspect of the problem seemed to be settling down.

With practised efficiency, he bound the gauze pad into place. It wasn’t going to be pretty but at least it was cleaned and dressed. The chances of Jim coming into the surgery to have the thing seen to properly were minimal. He made a mental note to look up the man’s immunisation status.

‘If I haven’t heard from you about the tetanus booster,’ he said, as he taped the end of the bandage securely, ‘I’ll give Judy a buzz.’

‘No need for that,’ Jim said in a rush.

‘No trouble.’ Matt permitted himself a small smile as he stripped off the blood-smeared gloves. Jim’s wife would make short work of any objections.

Bundling up the discarded gloves with the used gauze, he fastened the top of a small rubbish container.

Behind him, from the float, came a series of low gruff whickers and a few soft shuffling thuds. And the murmur of a soft feminine voice. He looked around.

Where was the woman? Surely she wouldn’t…

He frowned at the curved perspex window of the trailer. It was too scratched for him to see anything except the movement of blurred shapes. His gaze dropped to the black padded jacket draped over the drawbar. A sinking feeling chilled the pit of his stomach. ‘Is she in the float?’

Without waiting for an answer, he set his teeth and spun towards the trailer. Did the woman have no sense? Now he’d have another patient for stitching…or worse.

Three long strides took him to the door. He was about to jerk it open when the significance of the soft noises from inside sank in. Forcing himself to calmness, he eased it back and looked inside. The smell of ammonia clogged his breath and he realised the floor was awash with urine.

Apparently unconcerned by the stench or the fact that her boots were getting wet, the woman was at the horse’s shoulder, talking softly. The animal’s long ears flicked in response to the soothing voice.

Without the bulky jacket enveloping her, the newcomer had a very nice figure. Matt froze, his feet rooted to the spot.

A very nice figure.

Naturally padded in all the right places.

The ribbing of her jumper accentuated a narrow waist and he could see the gentle curve of one breast.

Unaware of him, she bent, lifting the canvas rug, to look at the horse’s belly. The way the black denim stretched across her rear had him drawing in a quick gulp of air.

‘What’s happening?’ His voice sounded strained.

Two sets of eyes snapped around to look his way. The effect would have been comical except for the anxiety he could read on both faces.

‘Could you open the back of the trailer, please? She’s in labour.’

‘She’s in labour?’ he repeated, his glance bouncing from the woman to the horse and back again. The words wouldn’t form a reasonable picture in his head.

‘You know…in labour? She’s going to be a mother.’

‘I know what in labour means. I’m a damned doctor.’ He squashed a wave of dismay. So much for his hopes that the situation in the trailer had improved. ‘I’ve just never had a patient with this many legs.’

‘Isn’t that a handy coincidence, then?’ She arched a shapely, dark eyebrow at him. ‘I’m a damned vet. Most of my patients have this many legs.’

And then she smiled. It was as though the sun had come out.

Matt blinked. She’d wanted him to do something…at least he remembered that much.

What was wrong with him?




CHAPTER TWO


DESPITE the seriousness of the situation, Caitlin Butler-Brown found herself smiling. As she watched the man absorbing this new crisis, the details of his face burned into her brain. Medium gold-brown hair, tussled as though he’d run careless fingers through the short thatch. Strong cheekbones and chin, stubbled jaw, slightly crooked nose. But it was his eyes that held her. An astonishing clear green and filled, right now, with naked disbelief.

With her hand on the mare’s back, she felt as much as heard the shuddering groan, the restless shift to find a more comfortable position. Her concern switched instantly back to her patient.

‘Perhaps you could hurry. She needs to move around, find a spot for her birthing.’

‘Right.’ He pulled back and the latch snicked softly behind him. Caitlin turned to soothe the fidgety mare.

‘There, then, sweetheart. At least he’s not the sort to blather on when a girl’s got urgent business.’ She kept up a steady flow of patter as she reached for the hitching rope and untied the knot. ‘We’ll have you out of here in no time.’

A loud clunk at the back of the trailer told her that the man was doing as she’d asked.

‘Here!’ At a shout from the cab of the truck, Caitlin glanced through the grubby haze of the window. A blob moved rapidly towards the trailer and then, down the side, out of sight. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘Your master’s not best pleased, darlin’.’ She caressed the sweat-damp neck. ‘Let’s hope our intrepid doctor is up to the task of overruling him.’

Conditions were already less than ideal—without any obstructions from a belligerent owner. Caitlin tamped down the unease in her belly, knowing the mare needed her to be calm.

‘Your mare’s about to deliver, Jim.’ The second bolt clattered back. Their rescuer wasn’t allowing himself to be distracted. ‘She needs to get out of the float.’

‘But—’ The protest was cut off as the ramp lowered with a grinding squawk.

Caitlin ducked under the chest bar and moved to the back of the float. When the doctor caught her eye, she sent him a grateful smile. His answering grin made her heart skip a beat and her fingers fumbled with the chain looped behind the mare’s haunches.

She blew out a small breath. The man was far too distracting. Best to concentrate on her patient, she told herself sternly as she encouraged the mare to back slowly down the slope, step by uncertain step.

Mentally, she ran through the stages of a normal delivery. Heaven help them if there was a problem. She had her bag in the car, but any serious intervention could require more specialised equipment.

‘She can’t foal here.’ Jim reached for the lead rope. The mare’s ears flattened against her skull in clear warning and he snatched his hand back.

‘It won’t be perfect.’ Caitlin decided to act as though his concern was for his horse’s safety. Moving methodically, she unfastened the canvas rug and slid it off. She ran a professional eye over the heavily pregnant belly. The membranes of the placenta were just visible beneath the arched black tail. ‘But don’t worry. She’ll manage, Mr…?’

‘Neilson. You don’t understand.’ He waved his arms and the mare sidled away, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m taking her to stud. She’s supposed to have her foal there so she can be put to Johnny Boy.’

‘You’ve left it too late for that,’ she said keeping a tight hold on her temper. ‘She’s in stage-one parturition.’

‘What?’

Ignoring his confusion, she handed him the folded rug. ‘Would you have a longer lead, Mr Neilson?’

His shoulders sagged. ‘There’s a lunging rein. In the truck.’

Caitlin bit back a retort when he stood clutching the canvas, staring uselessly.

‘Get it for us, Jim.’ The masculine voice commanded, reaching Jim where hers had not.

‘Eh? Oh, right.’ He set off towards the truck.

Caitlin shut her eyes briefly and puffed out a small sigh. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’ He gave her a lopsided smile, moving broad shoulders in a faint shrug. ‘You looked like you could’ve taken a chunk out of his hide and I figure he’s had enough free medical attention from me this morning.’

Her gaze was caught, trapped by the appeal of his smile. He had a lovely mouth, the sort to turn a girl’s head if she was foolish enough to let it. Just as well she wasn’t so daft as to be tempted by such superficial things. Her parents’ relationship had taught her the danger in that.

And yet, mesmerised, she watched the curve slowly straighten. Now that it wasn’t stretched into a smile, the bottom lip was plumper.

Kissable and—

The mouth pursed.

Oh, God. He’d caught her staring. Her heart stuttered as heat rushed into her face.

Flustered, Caitlin jerked her eyes away as long loops of rope were thrust into her hands. Relieved to have an excuse to move, she stepped forward quickly to clip the lunging rein to the halter.

This raw awareness of a man was so alien that she felt self-conscious and uncomfortable in her body. Even simple movements seemed stilted, graceless. She struggled to understand what was wrong with her. Where was the reserve that invariably scuttled her relationships? This was a fine time for it to desert her.

She couldn’t be vulnerable now. She had a mission to accomplish. No time for sightseeing or holiday flings…or to be distracted by a gorgeous face.

Caitlin loitered by the mare for a moment then reluctantly stepped back towards the men, leaving the rein loose to give the animal as much space as possible. As though sensing her limited freedom on the long rope, the mare moved restlessly, her head down as she pawed at the ground.

After a few minutes, the expectant mother folded her knees and, with a drawn-out groan, lowered herself inelegantly. Strong contractions rippled across the huge brown stomach and the membrane bulge grew larger.

‘Just give her a minute here, Mr Neilson,’ Caitlin said, stopping Jim with a hand on his arm as he started to move forward.

‘She needs pulling.’

‘Perhaps, but we should give her labour a chance to progress naturally first.’ Everything so far seemed normal but any ill-considered human interference could easily change that.

Caitlin’s senses went on high alert as the younger man moved to stand closer. The action seemed almost protective and she felt at once steadied yet even more unsettled by his presence. Impossible.

‘You’re in luck this morning, Jim.’ The deep, mellow rumble of his voice played havoc with her bouncing pulse. ‘You’ve got the services of a doctor and a veterinarian on hand.’

Caitlin forced her lips into a reassuring smile. This was not the moment to reveal that her experience was in small-animal practice.

Jim stabbed a nicotine-stained finger in the direction of the horse. ‘That’s my prize standard-bred mare. If anything goes wrong, I’ll sue.’

Caitlin watched him stomp off in the direction of the truck.

‘Jim Neilson at his worst, I’m afraid.’

‘Hmm. He’s worried.’ And perhaps not without good reason since the largest animal she’d treated in the last few years had been a lanky Great Dane.

‘I feel like I should offer a blanket apology for Australian men. We’re not all obnoxious, all the time.’

She swivelled her head to look up at him. ‘Just some of you, some of the time?’

‘Quite.’ He grinned at her, his green eyes glowing with open approval. Her heart fluttered uncomfortably. ‘You haven’t met me at my best either, have you?’

She swallowed.

‘Matt Gardiner. Local doctor.’ He held out his hand. ‘And you are the horse whisperer. Much more use than a fairy godmother.’

‘No horse whisperer, I’m afraid. Just Caitlin Butler-Brown. Itinerant veterinarian.’

Glancing down as her hand slipped into his, she was very glad she’d already introduced herself. Long fingers closed around hers, causing a warm tingle that had her utterly focused on his touch. The sensation intensified when his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

‘Even better. Glad to meet you, Caitlin Butler-Brown.’

She couldn’t have replied if her life depended on it.

A grunt of pain from the mare gave her the will to reclaim her hand…and her mind. She curled her fingers into a tight fist to quell the lingering fizz of the connection.

She forced her mind to the job at hand. ‘If I do need to scrub, is there anywhere handy I can get soap and water?’

‘I have water in the car. And I’ve got a bottle of alcohol hand sanitiser in my bag.’

‘That’ll do the job. Thanks.’

The scratch and hiss of a match announced Jim’s return. She realised he was beside her, puffing on a cigarette in agitated gasps. The smell of smoke hung, unpleasant, on the crisp morning air, but Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to complain. She was glad he was there, a defence of sorts against the man at her other shoulder.

Long minutes crawled by as they watched the mare.

‘Dad?’

Caitlin’s system jolted. Dad? She turned slightly, aware of Matt doing the same, to see a slim boy of about ten standing behind them. Except for his dark hair he was the spitting image of the man beside her. Matt had a child. He was married…or at least very committed. A surprising disappointment stabbed her square in the chest.

‘I thought I told you to wait in the car,’ said Matt.

‘But I wanted to see the horse.’ The boy stared at the groaning mare.

‘Mmm. That makes all the difference, of course.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Caitlin, this is my son, Nicky. Nicky, this is Dr Butler-Brown. She’s a vet.’

‘Nice to meet you, Nicky.’ Despite her disturbing reactions about his father, she didn’t have to fake a smile for the boy—he was adorable. ‘You can call me Caitlin.’

‘Hi.’ Anxious green eyes lifted to meet hers. ‘What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?’

‘No, not sick.’ Caitlin glanced over at the mare and smiled again, knowing Nicky needed reassurance. ‘It’s a mare and she’s going to have a foal.’

‘Wow. A foal? Like…now?’

She chuckled softly. ‘Yes, very much like now.’

‘Can I watch?’

She looked at Matt.

He shrugged. ‘Sure.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

Matt’s eyebrows came together sternly. ‘This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, sport.’

‘I know.’ Nicky looked both angelic and cheeky as he grinned up at his father.

The loving affection in the look the two exchanged brought a lump to Caitlin’s throat. Instinctively, she knew Nicky would never doubt his place in Matt’s heart.

Her eyes stung as she turned away. It was like getting a glimpse into the way a family should work, one where love was given unconditionally. The kind of family she would never be a part of. The insight was stunning. Powerful. Beautiful.

The mare moved restlessly. Another contraction and the membranes ruptured with a watery rush. Caitlin’s focus sharpened. Spindly legs and a tiny narrow head were clearly visible. The delivery should proceed quickly now.

The minutes stretched and her instincts began to clamour. She drew in a deep breath and held it for several seconds. Something was wrong.

She licked dry lips then turned to Matt. ‘I’m going to need that alcohol sanitiser after all, please, Matt. I need to check the foal’s position.’

‘Right.’

Jim fidgeted, pulling at the waistband of his grubby jeans. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Your mare’s not progressing as quickly as I’d like now that her waters have broken,’ said Caitlin calmly. ‘Did you have any scans done on her through the pregnancy?’

‘Nope. She didn’t need ’em.’

So, no clues as to what the problem might be. Caitlin prayed it was a straightforward abnormal presentation. Anything more complex could be hard to deal with under these circumstances. And with Nicky there, too.

‘Have you got any clean cloths in your truck, Mr Neilson?’

The cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth bobbed as he thought about it. ‘There’s a bunch of towels the missus forgot to take out yesterday.’

They’d do. ‘Could you get them for me, please?’

Jim nodded, casting the mare a worried look as he headed to his vehicle.

Matt was back with his bag and a bottle of clear gel.

She stripped off her ribbed jumper, looked for somewhere to put it. Matt was one step ahead of her. ‘Grab Caitlin’s top for her, please, Nicky.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at Nicky as he held out his hands.

He clutched the jumper. She could feel his eyes following her every move as she squeezed out a generous handful of gel and rubbed her arm from fingertips to shoulder.

‘Are you going to take the foal out now?’

Without stopping her preparation, she sent him a gentle smile. ‘I’m going to feel how he’s lying inside his mother, Nicky. I think the wee fellow might not be in quite the right position and that’s making it hard for him to be born.’

‘Will it hurt?’

‘The mare? It might make her a bit uncomfortable but we need to help her so she can push her baby out.’

‘What can I do?’ asked Matt softly, as she dosed one of his gauze pads with the alcohol solution.

‘I’ll get you to hold her tail away for me.’ She knelt at the mare’s straining haunches and Matt crouched beside her. Frosty dampness from the grass seeped through the denim of her jeans, chilling her skin as she waited for a contraction to pass.

With one hand braced on the mare’s rump, she threaded her other hand beneath the spindly front legs as the foal’s nose slipped back. She felt the knobbly knees, the bones of the mare’s pelvis and then…the problem. Another pair of hooves. The hind legs were engaged. They needed to be manoeuvred back down the birth canal before the forequarters could slip free.

A long contraction gripped her arm in a punishing hot vice. Caitlin closed her eyes and breathed through the pain. As soon as the muscles released she pushed the tiny feet with all her strength. No movement.

Another contraction. She couldn’t suppress a tiny gasp as the powerful muscles clamped around her flesh. She felt a hand on her shoulder, opened her eyes to find Matt looking straight at her.

‘You’re doing great,’ he murmured. His green gaze drilled into her eyes, as though he could transfer his strength to her. Unexpectedly, she realised she did feel a lightening, an ebbing of tension.

She nodded once, felt the contraction ease. ‘This time.’ She pushed. The feet moved. A tiny bit at first, before slipping back under the foal’s stomach.

‘That should do it.’ She slid her arm out and sat back on her heels. The ache in her muscles slowly subsided. Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlin saw Nicky’s runners tiptoe to a halt beside Matt’s knees.

The mare gathered herself for another huge push and the foal slid onto the ground. Steam rose from the ominously still little body.

‘Is it okay?’ whispered Nicky.

‘Yes.’ Caitlin knew the declaration was reckless. But she felt compelled to make it. And there was no way she was going to let the foal be anything else. Later she might be able to analyse her need to shield this child she’d only just met.

For now she had work to do.

A promise to keep.




CHAPTER THREE


CAITLIN leaned forward to strip remnants of birth sac from the foal’s perfectly formed face and clear the small nostrils. She placed her hand on the chest just behind the sharp little elbow. The fine ribs felt impossibly fragile as she felt for a heartbeat. Relief surged as a pulse fluttered against her palm.

‘Matt, can I get you to raise her hindquarters, like this?’ She flipped a towel around the haunches and lifted.

‘Sure.’ He moved to take her place. Back at the foal’s head, she blocked one of the delicate nostrils and blew a breath into the other, watching as the chest inflated.

Come on, little one. You can do it.

After the ribs lowered, a second breath. Her mind willed life into the filly.

A moment later, she was rewarded with a quiver of movement. A tiny snort.

Caitlin sat back on her heels and took a deep breath, hoping the others wouldn’t see the tears that were perilously close to the surface.

‘Let’s move back and give them a little space,’ she said, taking refuge in practical details. ‘If the mare’s comfortable she’ll stay down for a little longer. The less intervention, the better she’ll bond with her bairn.’

‘That was awesome, Caitlin,’ said Nicky shyly, as they moved back a short distance. ‘You gave it mouth to mouth just like we learned at swimming…only different.’

‘Clever boy, Nicky.’ She smiled at him. ‘It is different. Horses can’t breathe through their mouths like we can. So the filly needed mouth-to-nostril resuscitation.’

The foal sat up, the small head lifted unsteadily, looking comically lop-eared.

Now that the emergency was over, Caitlin began to notice the cold air on her bare arms.

‘Here.’ Matt held out his windcheater. ‘Put this on before you get a chill.’

‘Oh, no. Please, it’s not necessary.’ She turned away quickly to reach for the jumper Nicky was still holding. The thought of wearing something of Matt’s was more than she could cope with. Too much like an embrace from the man himself, all that warmth and the delicious smell from his body would surround her. He was disturbing enough just standing beside her. ‘Thanks, but this will do. It’s only, um, an old top.’

Matt shrugged back into his windcheater. A sharp sting of rejection at her sudden withdrawal was uncomfortable.

‘Look, Dad. She’s trying to stand up.’

Sure enough, the foal’s long legs scrambled at the ground. It seemed to be a signal to the mare as she heaved herself to her feet. She turned to lick the coat of her newborn, intently checking her baby over.

Matt smiled, his heart squeezing. In an oblique way the scene reminded him of Nicky’s birth. The precious moment when his son had been placed in his arms, tiny hands waving as the infant had yelled his displeasure.

The mare became more insistent, with nudges to the miniature haunches. Spurred on by the encouragement, the foal manoeuvred awkward limbs, pushing up with her hindquarters until she stood, albeit unsteadily. She looked all leg and large bony joints. A few staggering steps took her to the mare’s flank where she nuzzled determinedly until she latched onto the teat.

‘Congratulations, Mr Neilson,’ said Caitlin softly. ‘You’ve a grand little filly.’

‘With a little help,’ said Matt, determined that Jim should give Caitlin her due.

Jim cleared his throat. ‘I’d have managed.’

Matt opened his mouth but Caitlin was there before him with a sweet smile for the cranky old man. ‘Of course you would have, Mr Neilson.’

Matt had the satisfaction of seeing the older man’s double take.

‘Ah. Yes. Well, anyway, er, thanks. Just as well to have a vet here.’ Jim’s mouth snapped shut as though he was surprised by the words he’d just said.

‘My pleasure.’

Matt stifled an abrupt urge to laugh. She’d handled Jim beautifully, better than he would have, wringing reluctant gratitude from the man with nothing more than a smile.

‘She’ll expel the placenta over the next couple of hours now her bairn’s nursing. You’ll know to leave that well enough alone, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Jim shuffled.

Caitlin was obviously unconvinced because she went on smoothly with her warning. ‘Any pulling could lead to infection or prolapse of your mare’s uterus. If the placenta hasn’t cleared in a few hours, you need to call your vet.’

Bloodstains marred the sleeves of her pink top. The knees of her jeans were dark with dampness and there was dirt on the toes of her boots. Matt had never seen a woman look more beautiful than she was right now. She was marvellous. That willingness to get in and get her hands dirty, literally, without worrying about her appearance. No complaints. A practical woman.

She hitched a shoulder to rub her cheek. Matt suddenly realised her hands were still wet and grubby.

‘I’ve got soap and water in the car, if you’d like to clean up.’

She hesitated and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse. ‘I would, yes. Thank you. Goodbye, Mr Neilson. I wish you well with your mare and foal.’

‘Yeah.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Like I said, ah, thanks.’

Matt walked silently back to the car listening to Nicky chatter to Caitlin about how he was going to tell his class about the birth. Now that the excitement was over, Matt had time to wonder more about her. Who was she and why was she here? If she was a tourist, perhaps he could convince her that Garrangay was a good place to use as a base for seeing Western Victoria. What were her plans?

Not that it was any of his business…but for some reason he wanted to know.

At the station wagon, he got out the water bottle and liquid soap.

‘Did you want to wash…?’ He indicated her arm.

‘No. No, just my hands. Thanks. I can have a shower later.’

He tipped liquid into her cupped hands, watching while she lathered her slender fingers.

‘Have you got far to travel?’ He congratulated himself on striking just the right note of casual interest.

‘I haven’t, no.’ She was going to be staying locally? Anticipation tightened his gut.

‘What brings you out this way?’ There was an odd suspended second when her movements seemed to falter. ‘Holiday? Work?’

She’d resumed scrubbing vigorously and Matt wondered if he’d imagined the moment.

‘Secret mission?’ he joked, when she didn’t answer.

Wide, startled eyes, dark with some suppressed emotion, flicked up to his and away. Was it guilt? Surely not.

‘Could I have some more water, please?’

Silently, he rinsed away the suds and handed her a cloth.

‘I’m between jobs,’ she said, finally. ‘I thought…. It seemed like a good opportunity to see something of Victoria.’

The answer was reasonable. But her reaction told him it wasn’t the entire story.

‘Are you staying locally? I can recommend somewhere that makes a good base for sightseeing.’

‘Thank you, but…no. I—I have…plans.’

The change from competent, compassionate professional to tongue-tied uncertainty seemed odd. The frown pleating her forehead, the tight line of her mouth, the agitated way she dried her hands all screamed, No trespassing. Had he unwittingly touched on something personal…painful?

His gaze drifted over the rapidly clearing mist in the paddock as he mentally replayed the conversation. Nothing he’d said seemed unforgivably insensitive.

She was about to disappear from his life. Bemused by the compulsion, he nevertheless wanted to say something to tempt her to stay. But he’d already stumbled in a way he didn’t understand. Regret tugged at him, leaving him off balance. Perhaps it was just as well she was moving on.

A kookaburra began to laugh, the great whooping chuckles echoing into the air. Abruptly, the sound stopped, leaving a profound silence in its wake.

He forced his mouth into a smile. ‘If you’re ever out this way again, look us up. We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Nicky?’

‘Yes!’

‘You’re very kind.’ She smiled gently at his son.

By the time her grey eyes transferred their gaze up to his, there was no trace of warmth left. She handed him back the cloth. ‘Perhaps you could invite your wife. We could make it a family outing.’

No puzzle about his misstep here. ‘Ex.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Ex-wife. I’m divorced.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ Pink spots flared in Caitlin’s cheeks, her eyes shadowed with vexation. ‘I didn’t mean…’

‘Don’t be.’ Matt said, wanting to make sure she understood. ‘It’s old history.’

Caitlin’s mouth opened, then closed, her teeth biting her full bottom lip.

‘Mum lives in Melbourne,’ said Nicky, with a complete lack of awareness of the undercurrents in the conversation. ‘She hardly ever visits.’

‘I…see. Well, I—I should be going.’ She looked towards the paddock. ‘Please, be sure to tell Mr Neilson he shouldn’t trailer the mare and foal for at least a week.’

‘I’ll tell him. It’ll be a while before the tow truck gets here to pull him out. He’ll have a chance to get used to the idea.’

There was a brief silence, then Caitlin held out her hand. ‘It’s been an interesting morning, Dr Matt Gardiner.’

‘It has, Dr Caitlin Butler-Brown.’ He squeezed her hand gently, reluctant to let her go. ‘Drive safely.’

‘I will, yes.’ She retrieved her hand.

‘Goodbye, then.’ She smiled at Nicky. ‘You were great over there at the foal’s birth.’

‘All I did was hold your jumper.’

‘That, too, but mostly you were cool and calm when things weren’t going so well. That’s a big thing.’

‘Thanks.’ Matt watched as his son all but wriggled with pleasure.

Caitlin turned and walked to her car, aware of a lingering regret to be saying goodbye.

Her fingers were still warm from the pressure of Matt’s hand. She’d been prepared for the zing of his touch this time. And it had helped. Just.

Father and son were watching as she slid into the driver’s seat. She winced about her embarrassing mistake—though who could blame her for thinking there would be a wife and mother waiting for them at home? What woman in her right mind would let such a darling pair go?

But, then, her own mother had demonstrated time and again how much more important research was when weighed against a husband’s or a daughter’s welfare. Only the dogged persistence of Caitlin’s father, following his wife around the globe, had kept the family together.

She started the car, put it in gear and accelerated away.

A glance in the rear-view mirror revealed Matt was still there, one hand on his car roof, his head tilted slightly. He’d gathered Nicky to his side with his free hand.

A shadowy shiver surprised her as she took a final glance in the mirror. Matt and Nicky’s figures were now tiny. She shook her head, irritated by the illogical trend of her thoughts. The feeling that the man was important to her in some way was plain daft. As was her wayward delight that he was single. Single didn’t mean available. He certainly wasn’t available to her. No man was. Especially not a family man.

She turned the corner, almost relieved to be able to dispose of the last tiny physical trace of them.

Matt’s presence lingered in her mind, though. A secret mission, he’d suggested. He’d been joking but the words had held enough truth to tip her off balance. She was here for a reason. Not underhand but not straightforward and open either.

How do you introduce yourself to an aunt who doesn’t know you exist? How do you tell a woman that her long-lost brother died with an apology on his lips?

‘Da, you’ve left me in an impossible situation.’

Caitlin sniffed, blinking away the quick rush of moisture that blurred her vision.

She was here to gather information, to decide how to handle this delicate family matter. There was going to be pain, that was unavoidable in the circumstances, but she wanted to minimise the suffering if she could…for herself, for her unknown aunt, for whoever else might be involved.

The last thing she needed was a complication in the form of a man. Especially one with a child. Regardless of how charming they both were.

It wouldn’t be fair to them. She didn’t do relationships or family well.

She didn’t know how to make them work, had no blueprint to guide her. Her mother hadn’t wanted children at all. While Caitlin knew her father had loved her, his first priority had always been his wife.

A grey cloud of gloom settled over her. Because now here she was in rural Victoria to see if she could reforge the ties her father had cut with his family decades ago.

And experience showed she’d inherited her parents’ inability to make family relationships work.

No, she had no business wishing she could see more of Matt and his precious son. None whatsoever.




CHAPTER FOUR


STRUCK out big time. Matt’s mood dipped as the MG rounded a curve and disappeared behind a stand of scrubby bush. Once upon a time, he might have managed a phone number.

Nicky shifted. Stifling a sigh, Matt roused himself.

‘She’s nice.’ Nicky looked up. ‘I like her.’

‘Me, too, mate.’ Perhaps just a tad too much. He couldn’t put himself on the line in a relationship again, leave himself vulnerable the way he had with Sophie. That had nearly destroyed him. If he hadn’t had to pull himself together for Nicky’s sake, Matt wondered how he’d have ended up.

Since the end of his marriage his interest in female company had been precisely zero. A chance meeting with a little Irish veterinarian had changed that.

Maybe his foster-mother was right. Maybe he did need to get out more. She was always encouraging him to find a good woman. A partner for him, a mother for Nicky. Prospects were trawled under his nose from time to time. Doreen made no secret of wanting more grandchildren.

He’d have to put Caitlin Butler-Brown down to experience, as the one that got away, and make more of a commitment to his social life. The thought of leaping back into the dating game made him shudder. But leaping anywhere with a certain veterinarian for some reason seemed outrageously appealing. Which showed that the scars from his marriage hadn’t completely killed his masculinity after all.

One look and his wary heart wanted nothing more than to plop into Caitlin’s clever, caring hands. He should be looking for a nice country girl. Much more sensible. Though perhaps not. He grimaced wryly. His ex-wife, Sophie, had been a home-grown Garrangay girl. And their marriage had been a total disaster.

‘Let’s go and talk to Mr Neilson and then we can head home.’ With one last glance along the empty road, he followed Nicky back towards the float and truck.

Jim was watching the foal’s increasingly confident forays.

‘Your mare and foal need to stay here for at least a week. Vet’s orders,’ said Matt.

‘A week! I can’t leave her here that long,’ Jim gasped.

‘You don’t have a choice,’ Matt said. ‘You were a damned fool to try and move her so close to foaling. And you know it. Caitlin hasn’t saved your mare for you to risk the animal’s life again. Organising agistment here until she’s fit to travel is a small price to pay.’

Jim coughed and spluttered before he nodded grudgingly. ‘Here, you’d better take this. Your friend left it.’ He held out Caitlin’s black padded jacket.

Matt’s fingers sank into the down-filled softness and warmed instantly. Her perfume wafted up, the floral tang bringing a sharp memory of clear, smiling, grey eyes.

Resolutely, he tightened his grip. It was an expensive garment, the sort that someone would want back.

‘Thanks. I’ll get it back to her. Come on, Nicky.’

Whistling softly, he tucked the coat under his arm and set off across the paddock. He had a cast-iron excuse for tracking her down without looking like some sort of unbalanced weirdo.

He knew her name. Knew she was a veterinarian with delightful hints of an Irish accent. How hard could it be?

Nothing she’d said gave him a clue where she was staying, except that it was somewhere in the area. He knew where he’d start. With his foster-mother and her contacts in the local accommodation industry. If he had to, he’d work his way through every motel, bed and breakfast, hotel and hostel in the district.



The Grampians loomed over her aunt’s bed and breakfast. Remnants of fog clinging around the base did nothing to soften the daunting majesty. Despite the late morning sun, Caitlin shivered. The stark, craggy range glowered down at her, challenging her right to be there.

Her stomach clenched as doubts suddenly swamped her. Perhaps she should have written first. Prepared her aunt. How would the poor woman react to having a stranger drop into her life without warning?

Not for the first time, she wondered if her father had had other siblings. Was there a whole host of aunts and uncles and cousins lurking in Garrangay? She swallowed as her heart skipped uncomfortably.

As it stood, she was the only child of parents estranged from any family they’d had. Martin Brown and Rowan Butler. Her family was a tiny unit, even smaller now that her father had passed away.

Three hundred kilometres away, in the comfortable suburbs of Melbourne, this whole venture had seemed simple. But here, on her aunt’s doorstep, it seemed fraught with complexity. Her usual calm detachment deserted her completely, leaving her mouth dry, a sinking sensation in her stomach. The urge to get back in the car and drive away was almost overwhelming.

She shut her eyes. Waiting behind her closed lids was a clear vision of brooding, green eyes beneath a dark gold thatch of hair. Her eyes snapped open. Dr Matt Gardiner.

There was an intensity about him—and her reaction to him—that was unnerving. She’d read the interest in his eyes, seen it turn to curiosity after she’d fumbled with answering his questions.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory of her gauche behaviour. Stupid. He’d even provided a ready answer for her—a holiday. All she’d had to do was say yes. Instead, she’d hesitated and that stark tension had sprung up between them.

‘We hardly ever bite our guests.’

She spun around. A pleasantly plump woman smiled at her from a few feet away.

Her aunt? Caitlin stared, searching the face, the friendly blue-grey eyes.

‘Mrs Mills? I’m Caitlin Butler-Brown,’ she said, pushing the words past the constriction in her throat.

The welcoming smile faltered, replaced by a peculiar, almost stunned look.

Oh, Lord. Was it recognition?

It couldn’t be. Da had said his sister didn’t know he’d even married, let alone that he’d had a child.

Her surname was Butler-Brown, no reason at all for Doreen to associate the hyphenated name with Martin Brown.

And, besides, everyone said she favoured her mother in looks. Except for her eye colour. The silvery grey came straight from Doreen’s brother…Caitlin’s father.

Suffocating panic made her want to retreat, snatch open the door of her car and drive away. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all.

‘I—I have a booking.’

‘Oh. A booking. Yes. Of course you do.’ The woman seemed to shake herself mentally. ‘I’m sorry, dear. Come in. Come in. Let’s go around the back. Did you want to bring your bag in now or…?’

‘Er, I might leave it until later.’ If her courage failed her, she could still make that dash for Melbourne.

‘I thought you might have come a bit earlier. Oh, but I expect you’ve been sightseeing.’

‘Mmm, yes. I have.’ That was one way of describing her long morning. She’d found a public bathroom so she could have a wash and change her top. Then lingered over cups of coffee while she’d debated whether she’d continue with her plans or retreat back to Melbourne.

‘You don’t mind using the tradesmen’s entrance, do you? I’ve been gardening. That’s what I was doing when I saw you.’

Now that the woman had started, it seemed as though the sentences gushed out.

‘I’m Doreen Mills.’ She gave a small, embarrassed laugh and her hands fluttered briefly. ‘But you know that. Call me Doreen, of course. We don’t stand on ceremony. I’ve not long taken some muffins out of the oven. I got so involved with the broad beans I nearly burnt them. The muffins, that is, not the beans.’

‘I…see.’ Caitlin bit back an urge to giggle lest it explode into full-blown hysterical laughter. She waited for her aunt to lever off her dirty boots at the step.

‘I’ll show you your room. Then we can have a nice cup of tea.’

The house smelled of the muffins and lavender and lemon polish. Everything was spotless and tidy without seeming intimidating. It was…homey and welcoming. Settled in a way that her family’s houses had never managed, Caitlin realised with a small sense of envy. It beckoned to her but at the same time left her feeling like an outsider, as though she could never quite belong there.

‘I’ll put the jug on, then.’ The flow of words stopped abruptly.

‘Doreen?’ Caitlin frowned. Was her aunt looking a little pinched around the mouth? ‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, dear, yes. Nothing to worry about. I’d better just…’ Doreen rummaged in a large bag then pulled out a box and shook out a blister packet ‘…take a tablet.’

Caitlin glanced at the label. Glycerol trinitrate. Her stomach swooped on a quick flood of anxiety. Her aunt had a heart condition. ‘You’re having chest pain? How bad is it?’

‘Mild angina, dear. I’ll be right in a minute.’ But Doreen allowed herself to be led over to the table and pushed gently into a chair.

‘Sit here now and we’ll see how you’re feeling.’ Caitlin slipped into the chair beside her hostess. To her critical eye, Doreen’s colour seemed good. Better now, in fact, than it had been outside. ‘Do you want me to call your doctor?’

‘No, no. Heavens no. Silly me. I’ve overdone it in the garden, that’s all. I’ll be good as gold after we’ve had that cuppa.’ Doreen grimaced ruefully, her eyes glinting with affectionate humour. ‘And Matt will just growl at me.’

‘Matt? Your doctor? That wouldn’t be Dr Matt Gardiner, would it?’ An odd sense of inevitability settled over Caitlin.

‘My son. Well, technically my foster-son, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Caitlin faintly. That would teach her to ignore her earlier shiver of premonition. She wondered what else might be in store.

Doreen made a small grimace, looking resigned. ‘I’ll tell him tonight when he comes home.’

‘Comes home?’ Shock numbed Caitlin’s tongue, making her stumble over the simple words.

‘Yes. He’s—’ Doreen broke off, her head cocked to one side. ‘Oh, dear. I’m not expecting anyone. I wonder if that’s him.’

Caitlin had been vaguely aware of the sound of the crunch of car wheels on gravel. Now a door on the other side of the house banged shut.

‘Him? You mean Matt?’ Her voice wasn’t much more than a squeak. She was still grappling with the idea that he lived here. It was too much to think that he might actually be here. No. She couldn’t meet him again. Not right now. Not without some time to prepare.

‘Yes. He has an uncanny knack of…. Oh, dear. Please don’t say anything about my little episode, will you, Caitlin?’ Doreen shot a guilty look towards the door. ‘He’s had such a dreadful morning, I don’t want to add to his load today.’

‘But—’

‘Mum?’ The rich, deep voice jolted Caitlin to the core.

She swallowed hard, clasping her hands together tightly in her lap to prevent her fingers betraying her internal shudders.

‘We’re in the kitchen.’ Doreen gave Caitlin a conspiratorial smile.

‘Something smells delicious.’ Matt came through into the large kitchen-dining area. The easy smile on his face froze as his whole body seemed to do a double-take. Caitlin’s brain played the scene in slow motion so that it seemed to progress inexorably from frame to frame.

‘You.’ He was obviously having trouble believing his eyes. ‘You’re here.’

‘Yes,’ she managed. She felt barely able to string thoughts together, let alone put them into words to form coherent sentences.

‘Oh, you two have met.’ Doreen sounded intrigued.

‘Yes. At Jim’s accident this morning. This is the Caitlin that Nicky was talking about. She delivered the foal.’ Matt’s disbelieving eyes stayed focussed on her face. Almost as though he expected her to disappear if he looked away.

‘Oh, my. Nicky’s going to be so excited to see you,’ said Doreen.

Caitlin smiled weakly.

‘So staying here was one of those plans you were talking about earlier,’ said Matt.

‘Yes,’ she croaked.

‘Then you’ll be here when I get home later?’

She stared at him. Escape to Melbourne beckoned.

‘Of course she will be, dear,’ said Doreen. ‘She’s booked in for a week.’

‘Bookings can be changed,’ he murmured, his eyes all too knowing. ‘Caitlin?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’

His mouth moved into a small smile and a spark of humour lit the green eyes. ‘Yes, you’ll be here? Or, yes, bookings can be changed?’

‘Um. Yes. I’ll be here.’ Why did she feel as though she’d committed herself to more than simple accommodation?

‘Good.’ He nodded with satisfaction. ‘Right. I’ll be off, then.’

‘Do you have time for lunch, dear?’ said Doreen.

‘Had some, thanks. I just called in to pick up these files.’ He shifted and for the first time Caitlin noticed he was carrying a wad of papers. ‘I’ll take some of whatever smells so good back to work with me, though.’

‘Muffins. I’ll get you something to put them in.’ Doreen slipped away from the table.

Compelled to break the small ensuing silence, Caitlin asked, ‘How—how did Mr Neilson take the news about not moving the mare and foal?’

‘He accepted it. You must have charmed him.’

‘As long as he doesn’t rush it.’

‘Here you are.’ Doreen was back, holding out a bulging bag.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ He kissed her cheek then looked back at Caitlin. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She hoped the smile she gave him didn’t look as feeble as it felt.

After he’d gone, Doreen sat down again. ‘Thank you so much for being discreet, dear. I feel a bit mean, involving you like that. But fancy it being you who was there to help this morning. I should have put two and two together earlier—Caitlin is an unusual name. But when you introduced yourself…I was so…’ She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Well, I’m just a bit muddle-headed today.’

Caitlin bit down on her lip, wondering what her aunt had been going to say. ‘Sure, and don’t we all have those days.’

‘Some of us more than others.’ Doreen smiled, but her eyes were thoughtful. ‘Have you always worked with horses?’

‘Never. I’m a small-animal vet.’ Caitlin raised her voice to speak over the whistling of the kettle. ‘You stay here. I’ll fix the tea.’

‘Oh, but you’re my guest,’ Doreen protested as Caitlin crossed to the kitchen to where all the tea things were laid out.

‘You’ve got it ready, all I’m doing is the kettle,’ said Caitlin, as she reached for the switch. ‘Matt’s practice is in Garrangay, then, is it?’

‘Yes, he took over from Bert Smythe when he retired. Matt’s built the practice up, modernised it,’ said Doreen proudly. ‘Poor old Bert had let things go a bit in his last few years.’

Having poured the boiling water onto the tea-leaves in the pot, Caitlin placed everything onto a tray and carried it across to the table. ‘It must be nice for you, having Matt and Nicky living here with you.’

‘Yes, it is, though, strictly speaking, I live with them, of course,’ said Doreen. ‘Matt bought the place when my husband’s health deteriorated and organised renovations to make things easier for us. After Peter passed away, I was rattling around, wondering what to do with myself. Matt suggested turning it into a bed and breakfast. Milk for you?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Caitlin accepted the proffered cup. ‘It’s a grand old building.’

‘My great-great-grandfather, William Elijah Brown, built it. He and my great-great-grandmother, Lily, were early pioneers in the district.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Don’t get me started or I’ll have you looking at all my old photos.’

A sharp quiver ran though Caitlin’s stomach. The man who had built this magnificent place, who had worked and, with his wife, raised a family here, was her ancestor, too. Longing and sadness tempered a feeling of pride.

‘I’d love to see them—the photos.’ A sudden fierce need to put faces to the names pulled at her. And maybe it would lead in to a way to tell Doreen why she was here. ‘I’ve always loved old photos, wondering about the people in them, what their lives were like.’

Doreen fixed her with a quick searching look, which changed to a delighted smile. ‘Well, it just so happens I love showing them off. Let’s take our cuppa into the lounge, shall we?’

Caitlin’s legs felt rubbery as she followed her aunt.

‘I’ve put the best of the best in this album,’ said Doreen, patting the sofa beside her. ‘If you’re really interested in what their lives were like, I’ve got a collection of newspaper articles I can show you some time.’

Doreen flipped through a parade of sepia-toned photos, pointing out an ancestor here and there with an amusing story. The formality of the poses, women in long dresses, men in suits and uniforms, held Caitlin enthralled. If she’d been on her own, she would have taken much longer to look at them.

‘Is this you?’ she said, when they came to a candid photo of a young girl with a woman and toddler taken outside Mill House. The gardens around the house were much simpler and the verandah looked as though it had been enclosed.

‘Yes.’

‘So that’s…’ Caitlin’s throat closed over.

‘Mum and my brother, Marty.’

Caitlin was ambushed by a paralysing breathlessness. The toddler was her father. Her father.

Doreen stroked the photo lightly with a fingertip, her face suddenly etched with grief. Moisture prickled Caitlin’s eyes in sympathy and she had to look away.

Oh, God. How stupid to think that the photographs might have created an opportunity to talk about Martin Brown’s death. Sorrow clogged her throat in a painful ball. No way could she speak about her father’s death right now, even if she’d wanted to. Her own emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. She needed to be better prepared, to have the words ready, practised.

Doreen cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, that’s enough for today.’ She closed the album with a snap. ‘Finish your tea and then I’ll show you your room so you can bring your bags in and get settled.’

‘Oh. But…. Are you sure you’re up to having a guest after your angina attack? I can easily arrange to stay somewhere else.’ She pushed aside her promise to Matt about being at the house when he returned. After all, he hadn’t known about the angina attack when he’d pinned her down about her booking. If Doreen needed to cancel, Caitlin wasn’t going to feel bad about leaving.

‘I wouldn’t hear of it. Please. I’ll be so disappointed if you leave now.’

‘As long as you promise to say if it does get too much,’ said Caitlin, after a small hesitation. Perhaps she could ask Matt if Doreen’s health was strong enough. But that would involve breaking her aunt’s confidence. Her life seemed to be filling with all manner of deceptions.

Doreen clasped her hands together in delight. ‘Wonderful. And why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? It’s just a casserole,’ she said quickly, when Caitlin would have refused. ‘I’ve had it in the slow cooker since this morning so it’s no trouble. None at all.’

‘Thank you, that would be lovely,’ Caitlin said, responding to the apparent underlying plea. Was it real or was she hearing what she wanted to hear? Letting her own yearning for family colour her judgement? After all, Doreen didn’t know she’d just invited her niece to share a meal.

Doreen’s face lit up with pleasure and an answering glow settled in Caitlin’s heart. Matt would probably be there but this time she had the advantage of being able to prepare for their next meeting. She’d be able to handle him and this inconvenient attraction.

She had to…he was a part of her aunt’s life.



Matt puffed out a breath as he stacked the papers on the back seat of his vehicle. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

Caitlin was here. In Mill House. In his home.

Not that she was here to see him. With his system starting to settle, he could recognise that she’d been as disturbed as he’d been by the coincidence. In fact, her reaction had been closer to horror.

He’d been so completely thrown that he hadn’t thought of any of the questions that crowded into his mind now. Especially about her strange reaction to his comments when he’d helped her wash her hands earlier. He’d had the feeling that she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what.

He slid into the driver’s seat, the wadded black lump on the passenger’s seat catching his eye. Caitlin’s jacket. He’d completely forgotten about it.

In the end, the chance to return the jacket had arrived with minimal effort on his part.

Always assuming, of course, that Caitlin was still here when he got home.

She’d said she would be.

He hoped she would be.

Mostly.




CHAPTER FIVE


MATT GARDINER.

Caitlin froze on the threshold of the lounge, her fingers tightening around the spine of her book until she was sure something would break. It’d been six hours since he’d walked into the kitchen. Six hours that she’d used to prepare for this meeting. She’d convinced herself she was ready.

But she was so wrong.

What was he doing in this room? Doreen said he and Nicky lived in an apartment upstairs. Shouldn’t he have been tucked safely up there?

But, no, his long body was sprawled in a recliner, head tilted back on the cushioned rest, eyes closed. Dark shadows beneath his eyes made him look oddly vulnerable. The difficult twenty-four hours of routine work and after-hours emergencies that Doreen had described earlier must have caught up with him.

His mouth was slightly curved, the bottom lip invitingly full. Caitlin frowned. She didn’t usually notice these details about men. To be sure, she didn’t want to notice them about this man in particular.

A moment later, his mouth moved. Her eyes followed the tip of his tongue as it made a leisurely pass over his lips, leaving them glistening.

Stifling the need to gulp in air, Caitlin retreated, one painstaking step at a time. But the door, having opened so quietly inwards, gave a tiny protesting squeak at her attempt to shut it slowly. She stopped, her gaze snapping back to Matt.

The brilliant green eyes were open, watching her progress with interest. He smiled slowly, as he levered the recliner into an upright position.

‘Well, well. Caitlin Butler-Brown. We meet again.’ Straightening to his full height, he stretched briefly. The movement made the fabric of his polo shirt hug his leanly muscled torso. His well-worn jeans rode low on narrow hips. He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing wayward tufts. ‘Come in.’

‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ She clutched the book in front of her, a flimsy defence against his physical appeal.

‘Bit late to worry about that, Caitlin,’ he said cryptically, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

The gleam in his eyes made her feel like succulent prey venturing into a predator’s lair. Instinct made her want to run, but she could find no plausible reason to refuse to enter the room. Especially since that had plainly been her intention before she’d seen him.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘Not for me, no. Thank you.’ The last thing she needed was alcohol. The unfamiliar pull of attraction she felt around him left her feeling skittish and vulnerable. Even the smallest level of intoxication might give her the illusion that she could handle him.

She sent him a cool smile and chose a chair beside the wood-burning heater. Instead of returning to the recliner, he followed her across the room and sank onto the end of the sofa nearest her chair. The arrangement seemed uncomfortably intimate. In her peripheral vision, she could see his long legs stretched out, sock-clad feet pointing towards the flickering warmth of the fire.

‘Mum tells me she had an angina attack while you were here this morning.’

‘She did, yes.’ Thank goodness Doreen had come clean, thought Caitlin. At least that was one deception off her conscience.

‘Thank you.’

‘For what? I didn’t do anything.’ Worse, she had a nagging concern that her arrival might have precipitated the attack. Though there was nothing concrete to confirm her suspicion. ‘She had everything under control.’

‘I know. But I like knowing someone was here with her.’

Caitlin hesitated a moment. ‘Is she well enough to have guests? I’d rather not stay if you think it’ll put her under too much stress.’

‘She manages her condition pretty well.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Besides, I don’t think I’d dare try to stop her running the bed and breakfast now. There’s nothing she enjoys more than a houseful of guests to pamper.’

Guilt made Caitlin’s smile feel strained. She wasn’t just a guest, she was the bearer of bad tidings. Why had her father turned his back on his sister and this wonderful ancestral home for more than half a lifetime? He’d swapped the certainty of belonging for a nomadic life with her mother.

And yet, in the last days of his illness, it was this place and his sister that his thoughts had returned to—family that he’d left behind all those years ago. Would Doreen want to know the news that her younger brother was dead? Was she even well enough to handle it? No possibility now of reconciliation.

‘So you staying here is a happy coincidence, isn’t it?’ Matt’s voice rumbled into her musing.

‘A happy coincidence?’ she said blankly, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation. His comment, coming on the heels of her thoughts, jolted her badly. ‘I—I’m sorry. What were you saying?’

Was he toying with her? Did he suspect there was more to her visit?

‘I was wondering how I’d be able to track you down.’

‘Why—why would you want to do that?’

There was a small, charged silence.

‘I have something you’ll want.’ Laughter and something warmer lurked in his eyes as he leaned on the arm of the sofa and watched her.

Flirting. There was nothing sinister going on. He was just flirting with her, and her conscience had imbued his words with deeper overtones.

Just flirting? she mocked herself silently. A pulse thumped frantically in her throat and it was all she could do not to put a protective hand up to cover it.

‘Is that so?’ She swallowed, willing herself to relax. ‘I can’t imagine what it might be.’

‘You can’t imagine…anything?’ His mouth tilted into a small teasing smile. ‘I’m stricken.’

‘Sure, and don’t you look it,’ she said, struggling to keep her expression bland.

‘Perhaps if you tried harder, something might come to mind.’

‘Matt, could you—?’ Doreen’s head appeared around the door. ‘Oh, Caitlin. Sorry, dear, I didn’t realise you were in here as well.’ The older woman looked from one to the other and back again.




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