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Adopted: Twins!
Marion Lennox


Matt McKay thinks he has his life all mapped out. He's on his way to propose to his "suitable" girlfriend - when fate intervenes. Irresistible Erin Douglas is catapulted into his path, with cute twin boys in tow!Matt's chivalrous instincts take over, and his single lifestyle flies out the window as this ready-made family moves in to his bachelor pad. But Matt soon realizes he likes having the twins around - and, even more, he wants the woman who loves them….












“You’re one brave lady.”


“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life as I was this evening. I thought I’d lost them.”

“The boys?”

“Yes.”

Those dratted tears… Damn, they threatened to be her undoing. She blinked and sniffed and then blinked again.

“Good night, Matt. And…thank you.”

And then, because she looked so rumpled and lost and forlorn, he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and let his lips brush her forehead. “It was all my pleasure,” he said softly. “Now stop thinking about the twins. Think only about yourself for a change. Sleep!”







Families in the making!

In the orphanage of a small Australian seaside town called Bay Beach, there are little children desperately in need of love. Some of them have no parents, some are simply unwanted—but each child dreams about having their own family someday….

The answer to their dreams can also be found in Bay Beach! Couples who are destined for each other—even if they don’t know it yet—are brought together by love for these tiny children. Can they find true love themselves—and finally become a real family?

Look out in Harlequin Romance


in May for the next PARENTS WANTED story: The Doctors’ Baby (#3702) by Marion Lennox




Adopted: Twins!

Marion Lennox















CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN




CHAPTER ONE


THE marital order in Bay Beach was thoroughly satisfactory for all concerned. Matt was marrying Charlotte. Erin, with her five unwanted children, was happily single.

Then the twins’ bomb exploded.



Matt McKay was one of Australia’s best known cattle breeders. He was also running late, but he wasn’t so late that Charlotte would be annoyed. He’d been paying a visit to a friend in hospital. Now he was headed to Charlotte’s for dinner.

He was also headed for commitment.

Well, why not? Charlotte was beautiful, immaculately groomed and extremely pleasant company. She understood his farming needs. Acclaimed as the best hostess in the district, she’d been loyal to Matt for almost twenty years.

Back in Bay Beach hospital, Matt’s friend, Nick Daniels, was recovering nicely from his appendix operation. Matt had left him comfortably settled, Nick’s wife and children pandering to his every whim.

The visit had made Matt think. Life should include pandering, he’d decided. He’d avoided it so far, but it was hard not to feel jealous of Nick’s domestic bliss. Despite his lost appendix, Nick couldn’t be more content.

Which was why Matt had detoured via the jewellers.

Something schmaltzy came onto the radio—something about love and snow-white hair and faithfulness forever. Matt glanced down at the velvet box tucked into his map compartment, and he pushed away the last of his qualms. Marriage to Charlotte…

It had always seemed logical, and maybe that’s why he’d taken so long to get around to asking. He’d had a few flings in his youth, but Charlotte was always calmly waiting for him to return from what she teasingly called his nonsense. Ten years ago her possessiveness had driven him nuts. But now… Maybe she was right. Maybe they were suited.

And he wouldn’t mind a kid or two.

Nick was managing fatherhood beautifully, Matt decided, thinking of the family group he’d left at the hospital. With two gorgeous kids and another on the way, Nick and Shanni were blissfully happy.

Could he and Charlotte be the same?

Would Charlotte even want children? Charlotte wasn’t a baby sort of person, but if she could produce little Charlottes… Children who were neat and practical and knew what was right…

That might be a problem. He wouldn’t mind a bit of spirit in any child he had. He grinned to himself, acknowledging that he hadn’t been a childhood angel. In fact he’d driven his mother to distraction.

But kids were a fifty-fifty gene split. He’d spent most of his childhood with his father, and if Charlotte thought she could breed children who’d wipe their feet and read their story books quietly, then maybe he could persuade her to give parenthood a try.

They could be hers indoors and his outdoors—which would be a childhood just like his had been.

So…

So tonight he’d finally ask her to marry him, he decided, as he drove Charlotte-wards. After all, it was an excellent night.

Apart from a bomb waiting in the wings…



And at Home Number Three of Bay Beach Orphanage, things were also excellent.

Erin Douglas, Home Mother, had all her charges in bed by eight, which was no mean feat.

The baby, Marigold, had gone out like a light, bless her. She was showing every sign that she’d make her adoptive parents blissfully happy.

Five year old Tess and eight year old Michael, a brother and sister who’d been placed in the Home while their mother was ill, had gone to sleep on cue. No problems there.

And—amazingly—the twins had gone meekly to bed when told. When she’d checked ten minutes ago, they had their eyes closed and seemed out for the count.

This was truly amazing!

It was worth a glass of wine to celebrate, Erin decided. There weren’t too many nights in a house mother’s life when all her charges went to sleep this early, and it never happened when she had the twins.

Her hand stilled on the refrigerator door, survival instincts surfacing. It was almost too good to be true, she thought, and her well-honed nose smelled a rat. She tiptoed to the twins’ bedroom yet again, and opened the door a crack.

But her instincts seemed wrong. They looked beautifully asleep.

How could she doubt them? she wondered as she gazed down at their intently sleeping countenances. How could anyone doubt them?

At seven years old, Henry and William were gorgeous. They had bright, curly, carrot-red hair, smatterings of freckles on their cute, snub noses, and a look on their faces that said they were the work of angels.

That look, Erin knew to her cost, was entirely misleading. There was a solid reason they were in care. Their mother couldn’t control them, and by the time they were four, with no husband and seven other children to look after, she’d abused them unmercifully and then simply abandoned them to foster care.

That hadn’t worked either. Up until now, no foster parents could cope with their trouble-making, and after each effort to find them a home, back they’d come to the orphanage every time. If it could be organised, they were placed with Erin. Erin could usually control them, but even Erin found it tough.

She sighed. What would she do with them? They were holy terrors, but as she looked down at their sleeping faces her heart twisted with pain for the two little boys she was starting to love.

They shouldn’t be in the orphanage. They were sharp as tacks—maybe clever enough to be categorised as intellectually gifted, Erin thought, remembering a few of the truly amazing spots of trouble they’d landed themselves into. As well as that, they were engaging and lovable, and they desperately needed a mother and a father to love them.

If only they weren’t intent on destroying the world!

Still, for now they were asleep and she was feeling as if a miracle had occurred! She took herself back to the kitchen, kicked off her shoes and put her feet up in bliss.

‘Here’s to a miracle,’ she told herself, raising her wine glass in a toast to the evening. ‘Here’s to an excellent night.’



Back in their bedroom, Henry and William’s plan was working like a dream.

They’d strung thread from the kitchen door to the top of their bedroom door. Then they’d tied their stuffed toy, Tigger Tiger, to the thread, and they’d frayed it so it’d break at the first movement of the kitchen door.

The plan was perfect. If Erin left the kitchen, the thread snapped and Tigger fell to the floor. Unless the thread tangled in Erin’s feet—which would have been really, really unlucky—she’d never notice.

As Tigger landed, there was just enough time for the boys to shove what they were doing under the bed, grab Tigger, scramble under the bedcovers and flick off the light before Erin appeared to check.

So to Erin, all was beautifully, unnaturally normal, and they concentrated fiercely on looking asleep as she tiptoed over to them.

‘Goodnight, you rascals,’ she’d whispered, and they’d both had to concentrate even harder not to giggle.

Then, with Erin gone, they picked up the end of the thread and retied Tigger in his warning position. And then they retrieved what was under the bed.

Brilliant! Absolutely excellent.



But the bomb wasn’t meant to go off when it did.

The plan was for Henry to carry it outside in the toe of his slipper. It was scary to carry it in his bare fingers, and a slipper should hold it safe. Their bomb was a hand-taped ball stuffed with matches and fire-crackers, designed to go off when thumped on the ground. They knew how volatile it was, but they weren’t stupid.

After carrying it carefully outside, the plan was to lob it over the next-door fence.

It was eight at night. At eight every night, just as the news ended on the telly, their next door neighbours, Helmut and Valda Cole, let their pet poodle out for her evening run.

Pansy Poodle never went more than two feet into the garden so there was no fear of hitting her. But she might just about turn inside out with the bang, and Mr and Mrs Cole would go berserk. Which would be very interesting indeed!

Henry and William disliked the Coles, and they knew exactly what the Coles thought about them—and orphans in general. The Coles were raising a petition to have all the orphanage houses put together. ‘To put all the troublemakers in the one spot!’ They were even nasty to Erin, which was unthinkable.

Henry and William mightn’t always do as Erin wanted, but she gave the best cuddles of anyone they knew, and even when they were in serious trouble she just sighed, ruffled their hair and said, ‘What am I going to do with you, you twerps?’

And Pansy Poodle yapped so much she woke the baby, and when Henry poked his finger through the fence—just to say hello—she’d bitten him! It had taken fifteen minutes of Erin’s cuddles before Henry had stopped shaking.

The Coles, therefore, had to be got rid of before they upset Erin further, or before Pansy bit someone else, and the only thing that might make them move was if they thought their poodle was in danger. Hence the bomb, the construction of which had been learned from spying on the bigger kids at school.

Only then…

Well, Henry was pushing the bomb into the slipper and William was holding the slipper up so it’d slide in, and it wouldn’t quite fit—and then Henry got nervous and the slipper sort of fell sideways.

The tape-wound ball, stacked really, really tightly with matches and firecrackers, fell heavily onto the floor and rolled under the curtains by the bed.

Henry and William stared at it for one horrified moment—and then dived for cover under the opposite bed.

The explosion reverberated through the house and into the night beyond. Instantly the lights went off as the electricity safety switch cut in, and there was the sound of crashing glass from along the veranda. The smell of smoke swept into the kitchen, and then the fire alarm in the corridor ceiling started to scream.

Bay Beach Orphanage, Home Number Three, was on fire.



Matt heard the fire alarm before he rounded the corner. That was no big deal, he thought. His smoke detector at home went off every time he burned his toast. Which, he had to admit, was often.

But Matt was driving with his truck window down, and the alarm was loud enough to make him glance sideways. He was now right out front of one of the Bay Beach Homes—and what he saw made him slam his foot on the brake and pull to dead halt.

He left his truck sitting where it was, engine still on, and he started to run.



‘Take the baby.’

Matt knew Erin Douglas. Of course he did. Everyone in Bay Beach knew everyone else, and these two had gone to school together.

Not that they’d got on. Erin was three years younger than Matt, and maybe he still thought of her as the bossy, forthright kid she’d been way back in third grade. Over the years he’d danced with her a few times at local functions, but she definitely wasn’t his type.

It didn’t stop him appreciating her. With a lovely figure; with a clear, almost luminescent complexion and huge blue eyes, she’d always had her share of boyfriends. She was definitely attractive, he’d decided, in a blonde, curvy sort of way, but she was a bit…well, sassy, and inclined to laugh at the world—and at him in particular.

Matt was wealthy and his family were descended from the landed gentry. Normally that stood him in good stead with women, but with Erin it was almost as if she was mocking him because of it.

And she always looked frazzled, he thought. She didn’t fuss if her shoulder-length curls were tangled, and her make-up was always scant and looked like it had been applied in haste. Yeah, he knew all the Home Mothers looked like that—they had such little time to themselves—but it wouldn’t hurt her to take a bit more effort.

She wore brightly coloured dresses, nipped in to a neat waistline and then blousing out in soft folds to mid-calf. They looked home-made, Charlotte had told him, and he could see that they were.

The last time he’d seen her had been at the local school fête. One of her kids had painted her face as a butterfly, and her blue eyes were orbs under enormous, colourful wings, the paint reaching right out to her ears.

Good grief, he’d thought, as he and Charlotte had paused for a second, stunned look. No, she definitely wasn’t his type. She wasn’t groomed and elegant as he liked his women. She wasn’t like his mother or like Charlotte.

And now… Well, she certainly wasn’t concentrating on appearances, but she was looking more frazzled than he’d ever seen her. As he reached the veranda, she burst through the screen door and she was carrying a baby. The little one couldn’t have been more than four or five months old.

Erin didn’t say anything more than, ‘Take the baby,’ before thrusting the child into his arms and disappearing again into the house.

What was he supposed to do with it? He stared down at the baby in indecision. He couldn’t just dump it, but there were things that were more urgent here than baby-holding.

A face appeared over the side fence. Well, it would. The explosion must have been heard for blocks, and Valda Cole was into everyone else’s business before it happened. Usually Matt avoided Valda like the plague, but now, burdened with the baby, he was even grateful to see her.

‘Take the baby and phone the fire brigade,’ he snapped, and thrust the infant over the fence into her startled arms before she had a chance to protest. ‘And contact the police and ambulance. Fast.’

And then he dived into the house after Erin.



She’d found Tess and Michael.

The children had woken and stumbled to their doors in the increasingly smoke-filled dark. Calling and feeling her way, she found them and grabbed their hands. Five years old and badly frightened, Tess stumbled in the gloom. Still holding eight-year-old Michael’s hand, Erin lifted Tess and fumbled her way out toward the door.

The smoke was so thick she couldn’t see anything. Her eyes were streaming as she called to the twins.

‘Henry? William?’

There was no answer. Ventilation slits were built in above the bedroom doors and the smoke seemed to be coming from the twins’ room, but she couldn’t investigate. Her first priority must be to get Tess and Michael out.

And then she barrelled right into Matt in the hall.

This time she acknowledged his presence. She needed help—any help!—and she knew enough of Matthew McKay to know he was capable.

‘Matt, there’s these two, but the twins are still inside.’ She propelled her children forward and choked on a lungful of smoke. ‘Take them out.’

He took them all out. Grasping her arm without a word, he pulled her back out of the door before she could argue. There, standing on the porch, she fought to regain her breath so she could speak again.

Her panic was threatening to overwhelm her. The smoke seemed almost impenetrable, and she could see flames shooting from the side window. It was definitely coming from the twins’ room.

‘Dear God, the twins…’ It was hard to make her voice work. The smoke had seared her lungs, so every breath hurt.

‘How many more are inside?’ Matt’s voice was harsh with authority. ‘How many and tell me where they are. Now!’

Somehow she hauled herself under control and made herself heard. She couldn’t have asked for a better assistant than Matt McKay. Sure, he was wealthy and too good-looking for his own good, and he moved in circles she didn’t belong too, but his competence was never in question.

‘Just the twins,’ she told him. ‘Two seven-year-old boys. They’re in there together.’ She choked on another lungful of smoke, but she had enough sense to thrust the children off the porch as she motioned toward the twins’ window. The curtains were billowing out through the smashed glass, flaming outward in the night air. ‘Please look after the kids. I’ll go—’

‘Stay where you are!’ Matt’s brain was in overdrive as he sorted priorities. Helmut Cole was running across the lawn with a garden hose, while Valda watched horrified from a distance. She was holding the baby like she was holding something unclean.

It couldn’t matter. At least the baby could come to no harm where she was, and Helmut was doing the right thing.

‘Have you called emergency services?’ he yelled and, as Valda nodded, he turned back to her husband.

‘Helmut, point the hose in that window and keep it there.’ Then he turned and headed back inside—back in the direction of those shooting flames.

‘Please be careful.’ Erin was close to collapse. ‘The smoke…’

‘We can’t get in through the window,’ he told her. ‘Let’s just hope the whole bedroom isn’t ablaze.’



The house was in pitch darkness, but even if it had been daylight he couldn’t have seen anything. The smoke was so dense it was threatening to choke him. Matt dropped to his knees and crawled, but the smoke was too thick…

Then his brain kicked in. Finally! Damn, he should have thought of this outside. He paused, hauled off his sweater and tied it round his face. It wasn’t much protection, but it was better than nothing.

The twins’ bedroom was the second window from the front. He needed to turn right through the kitchen and head for the second door along the passage to the closed door…

He had to work fast, whatever was behind that door. If he was met with a wall of flame he didn’t have a chance—but then, neither did the twins.

With a silent prayer, he felt the knob, but it wasn’t hot to touch. That was his first good sign. There was therefore only smoke hard against the door. There was nothing to do now but…

He took a deep, smoke-filled breath, opened the door and forced his eyes to see. The curtains across the window were blazing, and the bed against the far wall was well alight. Outside, Helmut raised his hose and he was hit in the face by a jet of water.

Thank God for Helmut. The water wouldn’t put the fire out, but it helped keep him alive. The soggy sweater across his face made breathing possible—just—and he kept his face in that direction until the sweater was completely soaked.

Then he took another breath and somehow managed to make his voice work.

‘Kids, where are you?’

‘H-here…’ The muffled gasp came from the side of the room away from the window—low down. A piece of burning curtain landed in his hair. He thrust it away, unconscious of the pain, and groped under the second bed.

‘Grab hold,’ he managed, and small hands reached out and gripped his arms. As he counted contact hands—four!—he could have sobbed in relief.

There was no time for sobbing. Now what? Somehow he had to get them back through the house, and the smoke was building every minute.

‘T-Tigger,’ one of the children was saying, and the kid was pulling away.

‘What?’

‘Tigger.’

Matt found his hands full of sodden fur as the thing was thrust at him. A toy? Good grief! He shoved it down his shirt and grabbed a blanket.

‘Wait.’ His voice came out as a hoarse croak. More of Helmut’s water hit the blanket, but not enough. He held it up and let it soak, and then threw the cloth over the boys’ heads.

‘We’re crawling out of the room,’ he croaked. He had them cradled against him, but he pushed them towards the door. ‘You crawl first. If I stop, then you keep going. That’s an order. Now!’

And he shoved them forward out of that burning room, along the passage, into the kitchen and the hall beyond.

‘Henry… William…’

Erin met them in the hall. Like Matt, she’d wrapped her sweater over her head. She’d come in as far as she dared and was waiting, crouched at the kitchen door. As they crawled from the passage, she hauled them into her arms and tugged them outside.

Matt followed. He crawled four feet from the front door and collapsed unconscious onto the porch.



The most beautiful pair of blue eyes was gazing down into his.

‘Do you think he’ll live?’

There was something over his mouth and nose—something plastic and hard, and he tried to push it away.

‘Keep it there, Matt.’ He recognised the voice—Rob McDonald, the local police sergeant. ‘You’ve got a lungful of smoke and we’re giving you oxygen. Yes, Erin, if he’s capable of fighting off a mask, then I reckon he’ll live.’

Matt thought that through, and it seemed to make sense. The gorgeous eyes were still looking at him. It was funny how he’d never noticed them before. Erin was grimy and smoke-stained and still looking frazzled, but suddenly he thought she looked the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Just like that butterfly at the fête, he thought dazedly. Gorgeous!

Life was gorgeous!

If she hadn’t come in to find them, he never would have got the boys out, he acknowledged. It had taken all his strength just to crawl those last few yards and he couldn’t have propelled the twins any further.

‘The twins?’ It was a muffled whisper under the mask, but Erin knew what he was saying.

‘They’re scared out of their wits but they’re fine. I need to go back to them. If you’re sure you’re okay…’

‘He’s tough,’ Rob growled. ‘The ambulance boys are just bringing the stretcher across.’

That roused him. Hell, no. He didn’t need a stretcher. He pushed the mask away, coughed and coughed again, and finally managed to sit up. Rob stayed by his side, uneasy.

‘They told me to hold the mask over your face. Do you mind not getting me into trouble?’

‘I don’t need it.’ Matt coughed again, grabbed the mask and took two deep breaths to prove it. The improvement was immediate.

Then he took a look around, and was astounded by what he saw.

People were everywhere. The fire engine was parked almost beside him; there were men running, hoses uncoiling; the police car was there with its blue light flashing…

Half of Bay Beach was here, he thought dazedly, and then he turned to the house.

Helmut’s hose hadn’t been enough. The house was well alight and they’d be lucky to save anything. The bedroom where the twins had come from was now a charred shell, and the rest of the house was roofless and smouldering. There was little for the fire-fighters to do but to play their hoses over the ruin to stop sparks causing trouble elsewhere.

Matt looked at the charred remains of the twins’ bedroom, and a shudder ran though his entire body. He’d been in there. The twins had been in there!

The man beside him saw what he was seeing and guessed his thoughts. ‘You got the kids out,’ Rob said in a voice that was none too steady. His big policeman’s hand came down and grasped Matt’s shoulder. ‘I don’t know how you did it, mate, but you did. You’re a bloody hero.’

‘I don’t know how I did it either,’ Matt said. He gulped in two more takes of oxygen and focussed some more.

There was something heavy and soggy in his shirt and he suddenly remembered the kids’ toy. Or whatever it was. He peered down his shirt in the combined firelight and floodlights, and was relieved to see a pair of grimy glass eyes staring up at him.

It was just a toy, then. Great! For a minute there he’d thought maybe it was an unconscious pet, and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on a dog or cat didn’t really appeal.

Back to important stuff.

‘The kids…they really are okay?’

‘They really are okay. Thanks to you.’ Rob looked up as the ambulance officers approached and he gave them an apologetic grin. ‘He’s giving me trouble.’

‘He would.’ The ambulance officers were locals and they were mates of both Rob and Matt. Their smiles were wide as houses.

In truth as they’d rounded the bend and seen the fire their stomachs had tightened in horror. Fire casualties were awful, and kids were the worst. Now, they were having trouble containing their delight that their only patient was a stroppy mate—a mate who looked like he had every intention of making it to old age.

‘Let’s get you loaded up and off to hospital,’ they said cheerfully. ‘Hey, we hear Nick Daniels is in there without his appendix. You can keep him company.’

‘I’m not going to hospital.’

‘Too right you are, even if we have to tie you down.’ Then they glanced up as a young woman came hurrying across the lawn toward them, her doctor’s bag at her side. ‘Doc, he’s saying he won’t come to hospital.’

‘Lie down, Matthew McKay,’ she said firmly.

‘But—’

‘Shut up and let me examine you or I’ll put you out for the count.’ Dr Emily Mainwaring knew her stuff, and she knew her patient. ‘Hurry up, Matt. They say you’re the one worst affected but I have five kids and Erin to examine, so let’s get this over fast.’

He was fine. Excellent, almost.

‘You’ll live,’ she told him, tucking away her stethoscope and casting a brief yet horrified glance at the still-smouldering house. ‘Just don’t push your luck any further. You need antiseptic and a dressing on that burn on your head, but it’s superficial.’ Then she peered closer under his shirt and saw what he’d stuffed there. ‘What on earth is that?’

‘It’s a toy of some kind.’ Matt managed a grin. ‘It’s not a patient—thank Heaven.’ He put a hand down to haul it out but she stopped him.

‘No. If it really is a toy, leave it there and see if you can clean it up when you get home. If you leave it here it’ll get lost in this mess, and it just may be important. These kids have lost everything, and I suspect I’m not looking at long-term physical problems here, but psychological ones.’

He thought that through and it made sense. ‘Okay.’ The toy could stay, soggy or not.

‘Can you dress that burn yourself? It’s not too bad.’ She was flustered, worrying about Erin and the kids and wanting to move on. ‘Good. Okay, you don’t need hospital, but I do want you supervised tonight. No going home to that farm alone. What about going to Charlotte’s? Shall I have someone ring her?’

‘No!’ For some reason that was the last thing he wanted. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You hear what I’m saying?’ she said fiercely. ‘Home with someone with you—or hospital. Choose.’

‘I…’

‘I don’t have time to waste,’ she said firmly. ‘Think about it while I check the rest. Though, thanks to you, I gather I hardly have a patient to contend with.’ She turned to the ambulance officers.

‘Hold him down, boys, and don’t let him go until he can give me a plan for this evening that doesn’t involve going home by himself, forgetting the antiseptic, having three stiff whiskies and passing out without anyone there to watch.’

She meant it.

Matt knew Emily well enough to accept that she was quite capable of trussing him to a stretcher, and he had enough wit—and he was feeling bad enough—to acknowledge that she was talking sense.

So what were his alternatives?

She’d suggested Charlotte’s, but the idea was distinctly unappealing. Sure, she’d put him up for the night, but she’d fuss.

All he wanted was his own bed, he thought, and suddenly he wanted it very, very much. Shock was starting to hit home, and he had to clench his hands into fists to stop Rob seeing the sudden tremor that ran through him.

But Rob wasn’t noticing. His mind had moved on.

‘What can we do with the kids?’ The police sergeant was still beside Matt, but he was speaking to Erin. The doctor and the ambulance officers were attending the children.

With immediate health fears eased, it was time to concentrate on the next problem, which seemed, Matt gathered, to be accommodation for Erin and the children.

Erin was tightening her lips, thinking it through. Or, she was trying to think it through. She looked like her mind felt full of smoke.

‘I don’t know,’ she managed, and then she looked up as someone else darted through the jumble of fire-hoses and fire-fighters. Her strained face slackened in relief. ‘Wendy…’

Wendy was an ex-House Mother, now happily married and immersed in domesticity. She was followed by her husband, Luke. Luke strolled languidly through the chaos, lifted a trembling Michael into his arms almost as an aside—marriage to Wendy meant that Luke and the Orphanage kids had met each other heaps of times before—and he hugged the little boy close.

‘Hey, Michael. Been having some excitement, then? Wow! It’s great that you’re all okay. And this is a great fire engine.’

Then he looked down at Matt in admiring amusement. ‘And here’s our Matthew out for the count. Been playing heroes, have we, kids?’

‘Shut up, Luke.’ But Matt grinned. It suddenly did feel good. Heroic even. The feel of those four little hands clutching his arms from under the bed came sweeping back, and he knew where they’d be now without him…

His grin faded and the tremors swept back. He’d been lucky to get them—and himself—out alive.

‘The other homes are all full,’ Wendy was saying. She was right back in House Mother mode, as though she’d never left. She was hugging Michael’s little sister, Tess, to her breast as if she was her own. ‘Erin, Shanni was at the hospital with Nick when the call came through. The nurse in charge told her what was going on, so she rang us first thing. I rang Lori on Luke’s cell phone on the way here. Lori’s on her way, but we need to sort the kids out.’

‘Yes.’ That made it through Erin’s fog. Lori was House Mother at Home Number Five, and the only one without tiny tots to care for. They’d need her, but Erin was in no state to concentrate.

Wendy recognised it. She came forward and gave her friend a hug like her husband was giving Michael, then she kept right on holding her, Tess somehow squashed in the middle. Which Tess didn’t seem to mind at all. ‘Hey, kid, you and Matt got them all out,’ she told her friend. ‘Everyone’s safe. You did good.’

‘The twins…they must have been making something.’ Erin was trembling in her friend’s arms, and, from where he was lying on the ground, Matt had an almost unbearable urge to rise and take over. He wanted to hug her as well.

Which was crazy. He grabbed the oxygen mask and took two more deep breaths. He wasn’t himself here.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Wendy said into her friend’s hair. ‘Tess and Michael are only with you until their mother gets out of hospital at the week-end. Luke and I talked about it as we drove here and we can take them until then. They know us.’

Tess and Michael’s mother was on her own, and she was a severe asthmatic. She was in and out of hospital often, and Tess and Michael were frequent visitors to the Homes. They’d be happy with Wendy, Erin knew. But…

‘That still leaves Marigold and the twins.’

‘Tess and Michael will be shocked,’ Wendy said gently, gathering Tess closer as she spoke. The doctor was checking the twins, and the little girl was starting to tremble. ‘They’ll need lots of care, so I don’t think Luke and I can do much more than take them. I talked to Lori and she said the same. She’s thinking about the baby and the twins now. And speaking of Lori…’

Lori arrived then. Thirtyish and competent—as all the house mothers were—she might be shocked, but she took right over where Wendy left off.

‘It’s fine for Michael and Tess to go with Wendy,’ she said directly. ‘It makes sense. But the other Homes are packed. Maybe we can use the hotel as an interim measure.’

‘Erin can’t look after Marigold tonight,’ Wendy told her. ‘Look at her. She’s shocked to the core. The last thing she needs is two o’clock feeds. She needs to sleep. And the twins—’

‘No one but Erin can control the twins,’ Lori said bluntly.

‘Yeah, look at how I controlled them,’ Erin retorted. ‘That’s control?’ She gestured to where the flames were dying and leaving a charred and smoking ruin, and she shuddered.

‘And the publican’s heard of the twins,’ Lori added. ‘I guess we might have trouble persuading him to take you.’

‘You bet we’ll have trouble.’

‘But the baby’s up for adoption and her placement’s due on Monday,’ Lori said, brightening. ‘I guess I could squeeze Marigold in with me until then. She’s such a great baby.’ She glanced around to where Valda was holding her at arm’s length, a look of complete disgust on her face. The baby, it seemed, had started to smell.

They all knew it didn’t matter. Lori had decreed Marigold was a great baby, and so had her prospective parents. She’d survive a few more minutes of Valda’s disgust. ‘That just leaves Erin and the twins.’

‘I don’t know about the hotel,’ Erin said doubtfully. ‘Maybe we could stay with Shanni.’

‘Shanni has two kids, is pregnant and has a sick husband.’ Wendy was suddenly in charge again. ‘And I can’t take any more than Michael and Tess.’ Then she looked down at Matt and her brow grew thoughtful. ‘Hmm.’

Hmm?

Matt gazed upward and he didn’t like the way Wendy was looking at him.

Wendy, Erin, Shanni, Lori… Even Doc Emily. They were all the same. They were organising, bossy women, in a sensible, non-Charlotte type of way that you couldn’t just ignore by going outside and heaving a few hay bales until it was time for dinner.

Frankly, they scared him to death.

He took two more breaths of oxygen from his mask and tried to look pathetic. It didn’t come off. In fact, it seemed to make things worse.

‘Doc says you’re not to go home alone, and I know you live in that great rambling place all by yourself.’ Wendy was onto her good idea like a hound on a scent and she wasn’t to be distracted. ‘What could be more appropriate than Erin and the twins coming home with you to keep you company?’

‘The twins?’ He’d seen enough of the twins!

‘You saved their lives,’ Wendy said, her voice softening, as she crouched beside him. Her eyes met his. They were inches apart and he couldn’t argue if he wanted to. ‘And maybe you saved Erin’s, too, as I know she’d have tried to get them out herself if it wasn’t for you. So you can’t just turf them out on the street, now can you?’

‘I…’ It was too much. ‘No,’ he said weakly. ‘I suppose I can’t.’

‘So you can have them?’

He forced himself to think. He wouldn’t make much of a host. ‘I need to be away occasionally, for cattle shows and things…’

‘But they can look after themselves with ease. So that’s that,’ Wendy said triumphantly, and she rose and hugged Erin harder. ‘It’s all sorted, my love, so you can stop shaking this very minute. All of you. Drama over. All we have is one burned house to rebuild and we’ll be back to normal. Now as soon as the doctor’s cleared the lot of you then you can go out to Matt’s. I can see the Welfare Shop lady over by the fire chief. Good old Edna. She’s always armed with a stockpile of emergency clothes. I’ll see how she can help and then we’ll send you all home. Together.’




CHAPTER TWO


FOR how long?

All we have is one burned house to rebuild and we’ll be back to normal.

It occurred to Matt as they started out to the farm that this might be no short undertaking. The Bay Beach Home lay in ruins, and finding accommodation in this town was next to impossible. Rented houses were taken by tourists at big dollars, and everything else…

Everything else would have to wait. ‘Worry about tomorrow tomorrow,’ he told himself, glancing back at the cavalcade behind him. Rob was driving him home in Matt’s truck—‘because there’s no way you’re driving tonight,’ the doctor had decreed, and Matt could only agree. He didn’t even feel like driving.

Behind them was the police car, driven by a police constable and containing Erin and the twins. Behind that another helper was driving Erin’s Home car. That car held enough Welfare donations to clothe a small republic.

Heck!

He glanced back again and Erin was sitting in the passenger seat of the car behind. They were just turning out of town, and as they passed under a street lamp she looked right back at him, raised her eyebrows and gave him a quizzical look that said she knew exactly what he was thinking.

That this was a disaster.

This was just great!

He had a mind-reading, bossy tenant, with twins and trouble attached. His nice bachelor existence looked like it was being threatened in a much more dire way than when he’d thought earlier that he might—just might, mind you, definitely not would—ask Charlotte to marry him.

Charlotte was one thing. Married to Charlotte, he knew he’d be free to carry on with life as normal, and his emotional involvement would be minimal.

But life with Erin and twins?

Life could just be chaos.

Then he twisted back to face the road ahead as Rob applied the brakes. Behind them, the cavalcade slowed as well.

‘I think this might be someone wanting to speak to you,’ Rob said, and he gave him the same quizzical look that he’d just received from Erin. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it’s your Charlotte.’

His Charlotte…

Once more he had that sensation of entrapment—the sensation he’d had since he was about thirteen and Charlotte had told the district he was the man she intended marrying. Of course it was Charlotte, driving her smart little red BMW and pulling to a halt as Rob steered Matt’s truck to a halt on the grass verge. Then she was out of the car and darting across the road toward them.

Charlotte was looking immaculate. Of course. When had she not? She was wearing her signature, beautifully cut, white slacks and white silk blouse, her long, blonde hair was carefully braided into a chignon, and she looked all ready for their intimate dinner.

Except she was no longer expecting her special dinner. Bay Beach had a very effective communication system, and it hadn’t let Charlotte down. She’d heard of the fire. Hauling the truck door open before Matt could do it himself, she practically threw herself into his arms in relief.

‘Matthew… Oh, love, you could have been killed.’ But emotion or not, her eyes were taking everything in, including Rob—and including the red velvet box lying forgotten in the map compartment. Sensibly, she ignored it. Almost.

‘Sally rang and she said you dived into that burning building and pulled out the orphans all by yourself. She said you were burned!’ She stepped back and saw the nasty red blister on his forehead and the grime of smoke all over him—and then, instinctively, she looked down at herself.

Whoops. Her pure white ensemble was now smudged grey.

House fires, however, required courage. Matt had been brave and she could be, too.

‘It’ll wash off,’ she told her beloved. ‘Not to worry. But, Matt, Sally said the doctor said you’re not to stay alone.’ She turned to Rob. ‘Bring him to my place.’

It was time Matt put a word in, but it was tricky to do.

However, Rob was made of sterner stuff.

‘We can’t,’ Rob said, and thumbed back to the cavalcade. ‘Matt’s got all the company he needs.’

Charlotte looked back—and then stared in horror as she saw who was in the police car. ‘Not the orphans!’ she gasped. ‘You’re not taking the orphans home with you. Matt, you’re burned!’

‘I can cope.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Charlotte, there’s only two kids needing a place to stay, and Erin will take care of them.’ Matt was growing uneasy now. Erin had emerged from the police car and was walking over to see what was happening. From where she was now, she could hear every word Charlotte said. ‘Erin’s been through a lot, Charlotte.’

‘I’m sure she has.’ Charlotte shook her head in disbelief that this could be happening. ‘But darling, so have you.’ She turned her head and raised her voice. ‘Erin, Matt’s coming back to my house. He needs to be looked after. Your organisation can look after you.’

Whoa…

Erin took a deep breath. Count to ten, she told herself. This is important.

Charlotte was not one of Erin’s favorite people. Lovely and gracious, and generous to people she considered the ‘right sort’, her graciousness had never extended to Erin. Erin was three years younger and about a million miles below her on the social ladder. As she’d grown older, Charlotte had grown more adept at hiding her distaste for those she considered beneath her, but somehow Erin always knew exactly where she stood. Right on the bottom rung!

But, like Charlotte, Erin could be ruthless when she needed to be, and she needed to be ruthless now. ‘Charlotte, Matt’s offered us accommodation.’

‘I don’t care if he has.’ Up until now, Charlotte had had a wonderful feeling about this evening. The sight of that tiny crimson box confirmed she’d been right, and now all it had come to was this! ‘Anyone can see he’s unwell.’

And so was Erin. She’d been through enough without Charlotte’s arguments. Back in the police car were two subdued little boys who needed a bed, fast. She knew well enough that at Matt’s house she would find one—and one for herself, too.

There wasn’t an alternative.

‘Matt’s offered to take us in and I’ve accepted,’ she said, and there was a certain amount of grit in her voice. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, but we’ve been through too much tonight to stand on the road and argue. If you could just let us go…’

‘Matt’s hurt.’

‘Then follow him home and fix him up,’ Erin replied wearily. ‘I’m sure I can’t do it with your style. A sticking plaster and a push in the direction of bed is all I’m capable of, believe me.’

Charlotte glared. She didn’t like this one bit.

But what was the alternative? Charlotte was thinking on her feet, and she was thinking fast.

Firstly—naturally—she was thinking that Erin was attractive and unmarried and she didn’t like the thought of such a woman staying with Matt. But then, Matt had known Erin for ages—since childhood in fact—and he hadn’t seemed attracted in the past. So maybe that was okay.

Her eyes moved imperceptibly sideways. He’d already purchased the contents of the box, so she needed to concentrate on priorities.

Which were, secondly, that Erin was saddled with the twins. They might be subdued now but the whole town knew their reputation. Matt would be driven crazy before he could get used to them in the house.

The only alternative open to her now was to invite them all back to her place, and that didn’t bear thinking of. She had a perfect little horse stud in the hills; the house was immaculate and children would destroy it.

What else then? Create a scene? No! She knew Matt would hate it. She’d worked so hard to make him see her as the perfect wife that she’d be a fool to mess it up now.

The velvet box was there, like a tantalising promise. She could concede a little.

‘Okay, sweetheart,’ she said softly, ignoring Erin totally and turning back to her intended. ‘You go ahead. I’ll bring your dinner over.’

‘My dinner?’ Matt was still too befuddled to think.

‘You were coming to my place for dinner. Quails with the most gorgeous sauce… I’ve kept it hot for you.’ She gave him her most loving look, and he responded with gratitude. But he didn’t want her quails.

‘Eggs on toast is all I’m capable of tonight,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. Freeze my dinner. It’ll have to wait for some other time.’



This wasn’t going to work.

Erin had never been inside Matt’s house, but she walked through the front door and she darn near walked out again. This and the twins? No and no and no.

‘You’d best take off your shoes,’ Matt said, through force of habit. ‘The carpet shows every mark.’

‘I’d guess it would.’ Erin stared at the floor in doubt, but obligingly removed her shoes and then turned to the boys and slipped theirs off too.

The twins let her do what she wanted and they hardly moved as she did. The Welfare lady had dressed them—sort of—but they were so subdued they hadn’t said a word. Now Erin badly wanted to get them alone. She wanted them bathed and tucked up somewhere warm and safe and alone, where she could cuddle the shock and fear out of them.

Matt was stooping to help with their shoes, and she was grateful for that at least.

‘Did…did you choose this carpet—or did Charlotte?’ she managed. It was a stupid conversation starter, but it was something.

‘My mother chose it,’ he said stiffly and that made her blink in surprise, memories flooding back.

She’d known Matt’s mother—not that they’d ever spoken, of course. Matt’s family owned one of the wealthiest farms in the district. Not so Erin’s. As one of eight kids in a big, loving and decidedly impoverished family, Erin was considered by Mrs McKay to be a nobody.

Which suited her nicely, she acknowledged. Erin had no wish to move in Matt and Charlotte’s exclusive world. She and her friends—and their respective parents—used to check out Louise McKay’s perfectly tailored white suits and think how impractical they were. Only Louise thought they were perfect.

‘Didn’t your mother die five years ago?’ Erin managed, thrusting away memories of the perfect Louise. ‘This carpet looks unused.’

‘I usually use the back door,’ he told her. Then he managed a grin. ‘I guess Mum trained me well—or I got sick of taking off my boots.’

‘I can see that.’ She stared at the white carpet, and then through to the white leather lounge suite in the sitting room beyond. ‘The boys and I had better get used to the back door as well.’

‘I guess it’d be best.’

Hmm.

The situation here was decidedly strained. Erin was standing in the front hall of the great McKay family home. Alone—apart from the twins—with Matt McKay. The feeling was…weird?

But she didn’t have the time to examine her personal feelings. The boys’ needs were too great. ‘Show me the bathroom and where the boys can sleep,’ she said wearily. ‘They need to be in bed.’

So did Matt. He gave himself a mental shake, trying to sort priorities. There were two bathrooms. He could clean up in one while she coped with the twins in the other. Maybe he could help her, but first he had to clear his head. It still felt fogged with smoke and the aftermath of terror.

‘This way.’ He led them, minus their shoes, to the back of the house. Here were two bedrooms side by side, with a bathroom between. To Erin’s delight, the beds were freshly made, as if he’d been expecting guests any day.

‘It’s another legacy from my mother,’ he told her, seeing her look of surprise. ‘The bedrooms stay immaculate at all times in case of unexpected visitors. That’s you. Unexpected visitors.’ He managed another of his smiles, and even though it was crooked and weary it was a smile that made a girl want to take a backward step.

Or a forward step?

But he was talking in a dragging voice that had Erin suddenly looking sharply up at him. She needed to focus here. The burn on his forehead was blistering badly and his eyes were red-rimmed from the smoke. He might be hero material but he was badly shocked and he’d inhaled a lot more smoke than she had.

‘I’m afraid they won’t stay immaculate if my twins are sleeping in them,’ she said apologetically, and then, propelling her charges into the bathroom, she turned back to him with decision written all over her. House mother personified. ‘You go and take a shower yourself,’ she said. ‘And then go straight to bed.’

‘We’ll see. I do need to eat. I’ll meet you in the kitchen when the twins are settled.’ He managed a rueful smile. ‘That is, if you dare leave them alone.’

‘They’ll be good tonight,’ Erin told him, and she smiled as she ruffled the twins’ soot-blackened hair. The children were so tired they were sagging on their feet. ‘Won’t you, boys? I think any mischief has been blasted right out of you.’



‘We’re sorry, Erin.’

It was the first whisper she’d had out of either of them. She’d run a bath, washed them to within a whisker of their lives, rubbed them dry on Matt’s mother’s sumptuous white towels—and still managed to leave a streak or two of grey on the gorgeous linen—and then cradled them into bed. They shared the one bed, despite there being twin beds in the room.

In times of trouble these two stuck together and they were sticking together now.

And all the time they’d stayed silent.

Now, dressed in some very strange and ill-fitting pyjamas, they looked up at her from their shared pillow, and their eyes were still glazed with shock and fear and remorse.

‘We only made the bomb to scare Pansy,’ William said, trembling, and if he hadn’t sounded so pathetic Erin might have been tempted to laugh. Oh, heck… Pansy Poodle?

‘Why on earth would you want to scare Pansy?’

‘So Mr and Mrs Cole would move away and stop being nasty to you.’

That was all she needed! She was overtired and overemotional and now she had to blink back tears. They were such terrors but there was always a motive. They had such good little hearts.

Somehow she schooled her features into sternness, and hugged them both.

‘Well, we were very, very lucky that Mr McKay came to save us. You’ll promise me you’ll never, ever play with fireworks or matches again? Not even to scare Pansy?’

‘We promise,’ Henry told her and she looked down and knew that she had their word.

It wouldn’t be a bomb next time. Something else for sure, but not a bomb.

She tucked them in, hugged them again for good measure and wondered where Tigger was now. They loved Tigger, and when they realised he’d been burned… It didn’t bear thinking of.

Then she looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Matt was standing in the doorway. He was clean now, big and bronzed and capable, dressed in clean jeans and an open necked shirt and with only the burn on his forehead to show any damage had been done.

He was back to the farmer she knew.

Charlotte was one lucky lady, Erin thought suddenly. A class above the likes of her or not, Matthew McKay was not bad as husband material.

Not only was he extremely good looking, with his thatch of sun-bleached brown curls, his weathered skin and his strongly muscled frame, but his deep brown eyes were twinkling with kindness. In his hands he held two mugs, and he carried them carefully over to the bedside table for the boys.

‘My Grandma always used to say a glass of warm milk is the best cure in a crisis,’ he told the twins. ‘So I brought you boys one each. There’s another for Erin when she’s had her shower.’ And then he smiled at Erin—a smile that somehow had the capacity to knock her senses reeling. ‘Off you go, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re clean.’

Darn, she must be more exhausted than she thought, Erin decided. She really was very close to tears, and his kindness was almost her undoing.

‘I’ve also brought my very favourite story book from when I was seven,’ he told her, motioning to a book tucked under his arm. ‘It’s all about fire engines. So I propose that you go and clean up while I read to the boys.’

‘Your throat…’

‘Hurts,’ he finished for her. ‘Well guessed. I’d imagine yours does, too. Luckily my book’s mostly pictures so the boys and I just have to look. So scoot.’ He smiled down at the two nervous little boys in their shared bed, and his smile was encompassing and kind. ‘Is that okay with you guys?’ he asked them. ‘It seems a bit unfair that we’re clean and Erin’s not.’

The boys considered in silence—and then slowly nodded in unison.

‘Great.’ Matt’s smile widened and he sank down onto the bed beside Erin. It was sort of crowded down there—four on the bed—but it was familiar and very, very comforting after the fear of the last hours. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he told Erin softly, ‘but I’m pooped and the sooner we get this lot asleep the sooner we can get to bed ourselves.’

Absolutely.

He was perfectly right.

So why did his words bring a blush to her face as she rose and headed gratefully to the bathroom?

And those tears were definitely still threatening.



By the time she’d showered, the twins were solidly, absolutely asleep. Wrapped in one of Louise’s vast towels, Erin checked them from all angles and decided it’d take another bomb to wake them, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing.

She didn’t blame them. She was exhausted herself, but Matt was nowhere to be seen.

He’d meet her in the kitchen, he’d said, but she couldn’t go and find him wrapped only in a towel. Her own clothes were disgusting, so she hauled on an enormous dressing gown she found in the donations pile and made her way through the house to find him.

The house was huge. Vast! It must have six or seven bedrooms, she thought as she padded barefoot down the passage, and when Matt emerged from a door in front of her she practically squeaked in fright.

‘Hey, I’m no ghost.’ Still those eyes twinkled as he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. ‘Uh, oh. You’re done in.’

‘You must be, too.’ She looked up at him and saw that his eyes were still reddened slightly from the smoke and the burn on his forehead had blistered further. ‘You look a darn sight worse than me.’

‘I’d have to agree there.’ The laughter lines deepened as he took in her total appearance. ‘But only just. What you’re doing in a bathrobe that looks like it was designed for Mother Hubbard…’

That brought a chuckle. The robe was enormous. She swam in it, and it trailed out behind her like a flannelette bridal train.

His voice softened as he realised why she was wearing it. ‘Hell! I guess you’ll have all lost your own clothes.’

She had. She’d barely had time to take it in yet, but it was something she’d have to face. Most of her belongings were back in the blackened, smouldering ruin. However…

‘They were just things,’ she said resolutely, trying not to think of her mother’s seed pearl necklace that she’d loved so much. ‘Things can be replaced.’

‘You’re one brave lady.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in my life as I was this evening. I thought I’d lost them.’

‘The boys.’

‘Yes.’ He was leading her into the kitchen as they spoke, and at last she relaxed. Unlike the rest of the house, this felt like a proper home. The kitchen had ancient polished floorboards, big comfy furniture, a huge wooden table and cushioned chairs, and a settee than made you want to bounce and sink out of sight.

A gleaming Aga was sending out its gentle warmth across the kitchen, and an ancient collie dog looked quizzically up at her as she entered. He thumped his tail gently against the floor and then went straight back to sleep.

This was home, she thought. This was a real home.

Damn, she had to blink back tears again. The waterworks were surely ready to pounce tonight. The fear had driven every ounce of strength from her.

Bed.

She should go to bed, but…

‘Hot chocolate and a brandy,’ Matt was saying. ‘I know I told the kids warm milk, but you and I need something stronger. I’ve eaten toast. Do you want something to eat? No? Then just a drink and then bed.’ He turned away to fetch mugs and glasses, and while he was faced away his voice changed. ‘You love them, don’t you?’

‘Who?’ She leaned against a chair to steady herself—her legs seemed to have lost all their strength—but she knew instinctively who he was talking about. His next words confirmed it.

‘The twins.’

The hot chocolate made, he turned back to her and gestured for her to sit. There was nothing for it. In her ridiculous night wear she sat, sinking into his squishy chair like she was drowning. She took the chocolate and cradled it, drawing strength from the warmth of the mug.

She thought of the twins and her mouth twisted. ‘I’m pretty fond of them.’

‘You’re a House Mother,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘I thought you’re not supposed to get attached to your charges.’

‘You mean I’m not supposed to care if they go up in flames?’

‘I didn’t mean that.’ He was watching her face. ‘The boys are different, though, aren’t they? To you.’

She shrugged. ‘I guess.’

‘Why?’

That was harder to answer. She thought about it and gave him the easy answer. ‘It’s probably because they’ve been with me more than most. Kids don’t tend to stay in orphanages any more. They get adopted or fostered out as soon as we can find someone who’ll take them. Fifty years ago we used to have scores of orphans. Now we have kids like Tess and Michael who are in for short-term crisis care, or the baby Lori’s taken for me. She’s been with us while her mother made the decision to allow her to be adopted.’

‘And the twins?’

‘That’s the problem. We can’t find anyone for the twins.’

There. It was said—the stark reality that hurt just to think of it.

‘Why not?’ Matt said, watching her face.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Liar.’

She shrugged, and then gave him a weary smile. ‘No. I’m not a liar and I do find it hard to understand. They’re adorable. But the twins push people away, you see.’

‘I don’t see.’

‘You may well see it soon.’ She sighed. ‘Look, they were the product of a one-night stand. Their mother doesn’t remember who their father is, and she has seven other kids to look after. To be honest, the twins reached their mother’s IQ level when they were about three. I’d reckon whoever fathered them wasn’t lacking in the intelligence quotient and they’re smart as paint. Anyway, she can’t cope with them, she rejected them absolutely and she threw them at us for adoption. Unfortunately they were old enough to understand what was happening.’

‘And they’re taking it out on the world?’

‘Only on whoever is deemed to threaten them. And now they expect to be rejected. They won’t let anyone close because they know it’ll end.’ Erin sighed. She was bone-weary and the comfort of the hot chocolate and the sympathy in this man’s eyes was more than enough to push her over the edge. He’d poured her a brandy but she wasn’t game enough to drink it. Her eyes wanted to close so badly…

‘Sleep,’ he said, and leaned over and took the mug from her hands before she dropped it. ‘You’ll find toothbrushes and everything you need in the bathroom.’

‘I already have.’ Her tired eyes smiled. ‘Your mother must have been the best hostess in the district—and you haven’t let her standards slip one bit.’

‘I’m not allowed to.’ He smiled back at her and his weary smile touched something in her insides which hadn’t been touched in a very long time. If ever. ‘Charlotte’s trained the redoubtable Mrs Gregory for me, and she sees to it that everything’s pristine.’

‘Uh, oh.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Before she knew what he intended, he reached forward and took both her hands in his. He pulled her to her feet and then stood for a moment, looking down into her troubled eyes. ‘I’m sure you and me and the twins and Mrs Gregory will get along just famously.’

And Charlotte? Erin added under her breath but she didn’t say it. Instead she looked up at Matt, a crease of worry still behind her eyes.

‘Doc Emily said I should keep an eye on you tonight. You did lose consciousness.’

‘I did,’ he agreed gravely. ‘But I don’t want checking every hour, thank you very much. If I promise not to die in the night, will you promise to go and put your head down on the pillow and let tomorrow’s worries wait until tomorrow?’

Those dratted tears… Damn, they threatened to be her undoing.

She blinked and sniffed and then blinked again.

‘Fine then. Um…you have put something on that burn?’ She was under no illusions that Charlotte would kill her if it got infected.

‘I have at that,’ he told her. ‘It’s cleaned and it’s nicely antiseptic. So we can both go to bed with a clear conscience. Goodnight, Erin.’

‘Goodnight, Matt. And…thank you.’

And then, because she looked so rumpled and lost and forlorn he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and let his lips brush her forehead.

‘It was all my pleasure,’ he said softly. ‘Now stop thinking about twins and burns and belongings and worries. Think only about yourself for a change. Sleep!’



And she did.

There was simply no choice.




CHAPTER THREE


‘WHERE are we?’

Erin planned to wake the minute they woke, but she must have been too exhausted for her normal House Mother instincts to work. She’d propped open both bathroom doors so the twins could see her as soon as they opened their eyes, and now they landed on her bed in a tangle of legs and arms and astonishment.

‘Did the house really burn down? Did we really ride in a police car?’

That was easy.

‘It did and you did and you’re now at Mr McKay’s farm,’ she said, hugging them to her and hauling them in to lie under the covers. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt, and in their oddly assorted pyjamas they looked just as disreputable as she did. They were like something out of a charity bazaar, she thought and grinned to herself and hugged harder. She didn’t mind. They were safe.

‘The policeman won’t arrest us?’ It was Henry, ever the anxious one.

‘Now why would he arrest you?’

‘Because we made a bomb.’

‘But you’ve promised faithfully never to make another one,’ she said.

‘Mmm.’

She fixed Henry with a look. ‘You did promise.’

‘Yeah.’ He gave her a feeble smile. ‘Okay. We did.’

‘Then I think we might persuade him not to arrest you—this time.’

Apparently this was satisfactory. They snuggled down beside her and then snuggled some more.

But then William asked what was apparently super important in both their minds.

‘Erin, where’s Tigger?’

Oh dear. Erin thought back to the last she’d seen of the house. There seemed not one snowball’s chance in a bushfire that anything could have been saved. There was nothing to do but tell them the truth.

‘Guys, I’m afraid Tigger was burned.’

That silenced them completely. They lay, taking in the enormity of it, and then Henry sniffed.

One sniff was all he allowed himself, but Erin’s heart wrenched. Tigger had been given to the boys by one of their first foster families—a sort of sop-to-conscience-at-taking-them-back-to-the-orphanage gift—and they’d been so young they’d mixed him up with leaving their mother and their bothers and sisters. Tigger had become their only constant, a toy never fought over, never discussed, but simply there.

Apart from each other he was all they had—and now they’d lost him.

Erin knew enough to acknowledge he was irreplaceable. She thought of the impossibility of saying they’d find another Tigger, and she simply didn’t know what else to say.

She was saved by a knock. There was a light rap on the door and it opened to reveal Matt. Unlike Erin and the boys, Matt was fully dressed in his farmer’s moleskins and khaki shirt. A sticking plaster lay across the burn on his forehead, but otherwise he looked completely unscathed. He was bronzed, strong, capable and ready for the day’s work.

‘Good morning,’ he said gravely enough, but his deep brown eyes twinkled at the sight of the three in the bed. ‘That’s a single bed and you guys look squashed. Didn’t you find the other two? Is something the matter?’

‘We just came into Erin’s bed now—to keep her company,’ William said with dignity, casting a doubtful look at his twin. Henry was looking dangerously close to tears, and the twins’ code of conduct decreed it didn’t do to show emotion in front of strange adults.

They’d learned early to keep themselves to themselves.

But after one knowing look at Henry, Matt mercifully changed the subject, seeming not to notice the one errant tear sliding down Henry’s cheek. He chose the one subject that might make them think of something other than loss.

‘I’ve made pancakes and I thought you might like them in bed. How about it?’

‘Pancakes?’ William said, resolutely putting aside the vision of a burning Tigger. ‘I…I guess…’

They were very upset about something, Matt realised, but he could only go on from here.

‘I’ll bring in a tray, shall I?’

‘Yes, please.’ Erin was so grateful she could have hugged him. How had he guessed that the last thing they needed was a formal breakfast? ‘That’d be lovely.’

‘Coming right up.’ He left them to it, and Erin never knew what an effort it had been for him not to sit down and hug the lot of them.



It had cost to get them breakfast.

Matt had come in from the paddocks to find his weekly housekeeper, Mrs Gregory, hard at work. He had a cow in calf in the home paddock and, after a sleepless night, he’d decided he’d be happier checking on her than staring at the ceiling. His cow now safely delivered, he’d come in to find Mrs Gregory already sniffing lugubriously over the marks on the carpet.

‘Charlotte rang me,’ she said before he could say a word. ‘I knew how it’d be, so I decided it was my Christian duty to get here early. Those dratted children. You saved them, didn’t you? Why you had to offer to take them in…’

‘I guess it was my Christian duty,’ he told her and she didn’t even smile.

‘Hmmph. Those twins. And that mother of theirs. Oh, you don’t need to tell me a thing about that woman. The whole of Bay Beach knew her before she disappeared with the last of her string of men. If ever there was a no-good, two-timing—’




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