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She waited for a couple of minutes but the nausea seemed to have passed and she cautiously went back to the kitchen. But Lachlan was still on the veranda, gazing out over the sea.
‘This is Blue Mountain coffee,’ she murmured presently. ‘Who knows? I could shortly be serving you Rosemont Premium Blend.’
‘Not shortly. It would take a few years, at least.’
They sat in silence over their coffee for a few minutes, Clare sipping hers carefully in case it made her nauseous. Added to this she was in a bit of a whirl as she tried to get to grips with the suddenly tension-shot atmosphere that seemed to have developed between them.
Without stopping to think, she said abruptly, ‘Do you ever see Serena when you’re in Sydney?’
He looked at her. ‘Sometimes. Why?’
‘I just wondered.’ She shrugged. ‘How is it going for her?’
He paused. ‘What brought this up?’
‘Nothing really. If you’d rather not talk about it that’s fine with me.’
‘Serena,’ he said deliberately, ‘is enjoying to the full the jet-setting life-style she believes I denied her.’
Clare blinked at him. ‘She didn’t enjoy...Rosemont? ’
‘No. She felt buried alive. So she said.’
‘That ... No.’ She looked away.
‘Say it, Clare.’
She took a breath and sat up straighter as a little flame of annoyance licked through her at his tone. If anyone had the right to be curious, surely she did, she thought. ‘It sounds to me as if a fuller investigation of your life-style preferences might have been a good idea before you got married,’ she murmured coolly.
‘How right you are,’ he drawled.
She just looked at him.
‘But if you’d ever met her you might have understood that at the time they didn’t seem to matter—particularly if you were a man.’
‘I ... I did see her once,’ she said involuntarily.
His eyes glinted with mockery—self-directed? she wondered. He said, ‘Then I may not have to spell it out for you.’
No, she thought, and coloured for some reason as she recalled sleek blonde hair, long-lashed cornflower-blue eyes, an aristocratic little nose and lots of smooth golden skin exposed in a mini-dress that did little to hide a sensational figure. Plus, she mused, a definite air of combined hauteur and come-hitherness that would be hard for most men to resist.
‘I see,’ she said at length.
He smiled unamusedly. ‘A very lawyerly comment.’
‘Lachlan—’ She stopped, and stopped herself from simply saying, I’m pregnant, Lachlan. That’s why I’m curious although I probably always have been. It’s my own fault that this happened but—what do you suggest we do?
‘Clare?’ he said after a moment.
‘I’m tired. I have got a big day tomorrow, that’s all.’
He looked at her ironically. ‘My marching orders in other words?’
‘I didn’t say so but if that’s how you want to take it, yes,’ she said bleakly. ‘We don’t seem to be...enjoying each other’s company much at the moment, do we?’
‘There’s an old saying about too much excitement and high spirits causing tears before bedtime.’
‘Don’t patronize me, Lachlan, I’m not in the same league as your seven-year-old son,’ she warned tightly. ‘Anyway, you started it.’
‘He’s eight now and you were more than happy to play along. However—’ he rose and kissed her lightly on the forehead ‘—before this gets out of hand and becomes a sordid little “domestic”, I’ll say goodnight, Ms Montrose.’
He stood over her for a long moment, staring down at her enigmatically. But Clare only gazed back at him mutinously. And he turned on his heel and walked out.
She lay on her bed, dry-eyed but distraught.
For once in her well-ordered life she had not so much as rinsed a dish or removed anything from the table on the veranda. The mere thought of anything to do with food, particularly leftover, cold food, was anathema to her. But the thought of how disastrously the evening had ended was worse.
A sordid little ‘domestic’, she thought bleakly. But what had really started it? Things had seemed to deteriorate before she’d mentioned Serena. So it went back to his trip to the States, she supposed. Yet he’d never before even suggested they go away together and he must have known a business trip for him wouldn’t particularly appeal to her—unless he’d decided he needed a more available, amenable mistress?
The thought shook her and chilled her to the bone.
But in line with his obvious distaste for any kind of domestic dispute as well as his clear reluctance to discuss his ex-wife with her, what else was she supposed to think? she asked herself sadly.
And just how would he react if he knew that what she really longed for at this moment was not some jaunt halfway around the world, but to be able to curl up next to him, feeling warm and safe, with no thought of work, no decisions to make other than what they were going to call this baby because he had everything else under control?
She sighed and, for the first time since she’d found out she was pregnant, let her mind wander...
A girl? Well, a girl would be ideal, seeing as he already had a boy, but then again Sean might prefer a brother. If she had to do this on her own, though, perhaps a girl would be easier—how crazy was that, Clare Montrose? she chided herself. She had no choice; the baby’s gender was decided. And, whatever happened, it was hers...
Valerie Martin popped in to see her a couple of mornings later, a Saturday. She had heard nothing from Lachlan in the interim and wasn’t even sure whether he was still in the country.
‘How’s it going, Clare?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Clare said cautiously. ‘Come in and sit down for a moment. I think I may have started this morning sickness bit but—it was at night and I had had some curry so—’
Valerie laughed. ‘Millions of Indian women have curry as a staple diet and morning sickness at night is quite common. Welcome to the club!’
Clare grimaced. ‘It just came on out of the blue; it was a pretty lousy experience but once it was over I felt fine again, well—relatively fine. It was also two nights ago and I haven’t actually been sick since although...’ She gestured.
‘That sounds par for the course. By the way, I forgot to tell you that your first scan should be at about eighteen weeks—I can make all the arrangements but if you’d prefer to transfer to an obstetrician I can refer you to one.’
Clare gazed at Valerie Martin, who had four children herself, she knew, and who was assuming the proportions of a lifeline as someone she respected and liked as well as someone who knew some of the background of this pregnancy. ‘Do I have to?’ she said doubtfully. ‘I’d much rather stick with you.’
She paused and contemplated the sudden and alien thought of scans, hospitals, the sheer invasion of physical privacy that was about to descend on her, and paled slightly.
Valerie’s face softened as she watched this knowledge come to Clare Montrose, who, she had no doubt, was a very private woman.
She said, ‘Here‘s what we could do. In case, just in case of any complications, we could engage an obstetrician to be on standby. I would handle the bulk of your pregnancy—no pun intended,’ she said humorously, ‘and he would see you a couple of times as well as conducting the ultrasound scans, and be on call for the delivery. That covers all eventualities but it’s quite likely he won’t be needed.’
Clare relaxed. ‘Thanks. Most of this is such new territory for me, I, well—’
‘I know. At least, I guessed,’ Valerie said.
‘I suppose I’ve been so wrapped up in my career—but—’ Clare stopped and shrugged. ‘It’s not only that. I’m an only child, I don’t have any aunts and uncles or cousins—’
‘Both your parents were only children?’
‘Not really. My mother lost a brother at birth, but that counts as being an only child, I guess. Uh—so I’ve never been closely associated with anyone pregnant or had much to do with babies. I lost touch with most of my girlfriends before they had any. I—’ She stopped again, then said ruefully, ‘I was always a bit of a loner.’
‘Have you told him?’
They stared at each other.
Until Valerie said bluntly, ‘Forgive me, but if we’re going to be friends as well as patient and doctor—’
‘No,’ Clare said. ‘I mean, yes, I would very much appreciate your friendship, Valerie. But no, I haven’t told him. I have only seen him once, a couple of nights ago, and—I just couldn’t seem to say it.’
‘Probably best to just say it, Clare.’ Valerie shook her head and grimaced. ‘Very easy to give advice, however. What about your parents?’
‘My mother,’ Clare said slowly, ‘has always longed for me to marry and have children. So has my father, I guess, although for all the wrong reasons.’
‘Most grandparents fall in love with their grandchildren whatever the scenario,’ Valerie commented. ‘By the way—’ she smiled mischievously at Clare ‘—speaking as your doctor—and you may not like this but I genuinely recommend it—you need to have plenty of rest. I’m all in favour of some exercise but—’ she sobered ‘—the first trimester, Clare, needs some care taken of it.’
‘I...I’m going to put a full-time solicitor on.’
‘Good girl!’ Valerie rose and deposited a package on Clare’s desk. ‘All you need to know about the course of your life for the next seven-odd months—what you should do, what you shouldn’t, some information on antenatal classes in the area, et cetera, et cetera.’
‘Thanks.’ Clare grinned and rose. ‘I’ll make it my weekend project—well, one of them.’
She had intended to work through the weekend although the office closed at noon on Saturday, but as she locked up and stepped out to get herself some lunch, and stepped off the pavement deep in thought, a maroon Range Rover all but ran her over. It swerved wildly and screeched to a halt beside her and it was Lachlan who jumped out.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded, his grey eyes furious, his jaw hard as she tried to collect herself and still the pounding of her heart.
‘I...I wasn’t thinking,’ she stammered.
‘You could have been killed! Not to mention being instrumental in causing a head-on collision.’
‘I’m sorry. I ... really am sorry—what are you doing? ’
‘Kidnapping you,’ he said sardonically as he steered her towards the vehicle and gave her no . choice but to get in. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’
Clare had to hitch up her slim straight skirt to negotiate the high step, and while he gave her no help he penned her in so that there was no chance of escape. Then he slammed the door on her and strode round to get in himself.
She said coldly, although she clutched her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking, ‘Considering that I had assumed you’d left the country—I have no idea what you’re doing or planning to do.’
‘Then I’ll tell you.’ He shoved the gear lever forward and drove off, spinning the tyres. ‘I don’t—as you put it with such criminal connotations—leave the country until tomorrow. So I’m taking you up to Rosemont for lunch and if you dare say anything about how you’d planned to work this afternoon, Clare Montrose, I shall be even more annoyed.’
She bit her lip, not only at his words but the plain warning in his eyes.
He also said, ‘I’m all for being industrious and so on but when it’s taken to the heights you do, when it ousts every other damn thing from your mind, then it’s about time someone told you enough was enough. It is also Saturday afternoon—and my last day here for a while.’
Clare swallowed. ‘I wasn’t sure whether...you wanted to see me again.’
He was silent for a moment as he turned onto the Byron Bay Ballina Road. Then he said abruptly, ‘Do you want to see me again, Clare?’
Her voice seemed to stick in her throat. But finally she heard herself say, ‘I’ve been thoroughly miserable since... then. And not sure what went wrong. So I didn’t really know how to—’ she laced her fingers together ‘—approach you.’
She said it all staring straight ahead as he swung into Ross Lane which would take them up from the flat, coastal plain to the gently undulating countryside around Tintenbar and Alstonville.
Then, to her surprise, she heard him laugh softly, and her aquamarine eyes were puzzled and questioning as she turned to him.
‘Approach me?’ he said softly, and put his hand over hers. ‘Clare, all you had to do was click your fingers and I’d have come running.’
She gasped. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t!’
‘Ah, well, perhaps not.’ His eyes were amused. ‘But I’d have come all the same. The thing is, I don’t know how things went so awry the other night either but there’s obviously some worm of discontent niggling between us and I’d like to get to the root of it before I go.’
It shot through her mind that the problem between them would not be susceptible to solving in one afternoon, did he but know it.
She said quietly, ‘Perhaps we were foolish to think we could live in some sort of time capsule, so—’ she hesitated ‘—untouched by anyone or anything else, for ever.’
‘You’ve always seemed perfectly happy with the status quo, Clare.’
‘So have you. And yes, I was. It suited everything about my life so well. But it’s not, well, it’s not what I imagined could ever happen to me. So I’ve had moments of—unease.’
‘Tell me.’
She shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘Will it last? Can a relationship so physically orientated and so determinedly detached in every other respect last? Am I a stepping stone while you get over Serena? Those kinds of thoughts.’
They crossed the Pacific Highway and the Range Rover swept down a winding road then up again towards the lovely, camphor laurel country that was home to Rosemont.
‘That’s what was upsetting you the other night?’ he said at last with a slight frown.
Clare took a breath. ‘Actually, I was wondering whether you’d decided you needed a more available and amenable mistress. To take away with you on business trips, for example?’
A smile touched his mouth but it was faintly grim. ‘Would your unease with our relationship make you into that kind of mistress, Clare?’
‘No,’ she said definitely.
‘Then I think we have to acknowledge that for whatever reason—and there are plenty—and despite the odd bit of dissatisfaction, this is what suits us best. Yes,’ he said as she made a sudden movement beside him, ‘I did suddenly think that I would be lonely without you on this trip. I did, I don’t deny, think, Why the hell does she have to work so damned hard anyway?’
‘Go on,’ she said barely audibly.
He looked at her ironically. ‘My next thought was, I’m sure she’d hate me for thinking along those lines—and I wasn’t wrong, was I, Clare?’
A week ago he wouldn’t have been, she mused sadly. Now? Now, of course, everything had changed.
‘Which is why,’ he said at length when she didn’t answer, ‘I don’t think we should tamper with the order of things as they stand between us, Clare.’
