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‘Of course I was. More than happy.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s hope this holiday gives us a chance to play out all your fantasies.’
Then he kissed her again.
She smiled and, sinking back into the upholstered seat, sipped her champagne. How lucky she was. Eight years of marriage to a gorgeous, sexy man. How lucky they both were that their marriage was so special, an equal partnership and yet so much fun.
Passionate lovers, best of friends, happy travelling companions, sharing joint interests in Nardoo, their outback cattle property…on every level their relationship was perfect.
On almost every level.
The negative thought came, as it always did, like an unexpected and vicious attack from behind. Claire set her glass on the tray in front of her and her hand was already shaking.
Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the sudden, sickening sadness that threatened. Not now. She didn’t want to think about that now. She and Adam were embarking on a special, wonderful holiday.
They both loved Italy. And this time, when Adam finished his meetings with European beef importers, they were planning to linger in Florence…Venice…Rome…absorbing the magnificent art, the splendid cathedrals, the restaurants and the music. It was going to be superb and she wanted to stay buoyed up and happy.
Silently she repeated the mantra that had been echoing in her head for days now. It’s going to happen this time. I’m going to fall pregnant. By the time we get home, I’ll be pregnant. And once again she promised herself that she wouldn’t allow a single negative thought to spoil the holiday.
Surely the relaxing weeks ahead would work their magic…
Surely this month…this time…
‘Are you OK?’ Adam asked.
She nodded, not trusting herself to look his way when she knew that, despite her hopeful thoughts, her eyes were already filming with the threat of annoying tears. Think about something else, woman! Anything else! Don’t spoil things now!
Reaching into the pocket in the seat in front of her, she pulled out the murder mystery she’d bought at the airport bookshop in Sydney. The story was rather good and it was just getting to the thrilling climax. With a little luck it would divert her mind away from that dreaded subject.
She’d used her boarding pass as a bookmark and now she opened at chapter ten and, taking another deep sip of champagne, began to read.
Adam stood on the elegant balcony of their hotel suite and stared thoughtfully at the dignified old city stretched before him. Rome at night was like a prima donna commanding centre stage.
There couldn’t be a place on earth more different from the wide, open plains and grey-blue-green bush of his home in western Queensland. Here there was so much man-made grandeur. So much power had been won and lost within this city’s ancient walls.
He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his big shoulders, trying to ease the lingering tension in his muscles after the long trip.
His athletic build was testimony to the hard life he lived in the Australian outback. He was used to the physical demands of running thousands of head of cattle on ten thousand square kilometres of wilderness. Sitting for hours cooped up on a plane left him feeling restless.
From behind him came the sounds of splashing. Claire was in the luxurious en suite bathroom, relishing a long, soothing soak in scented bath oils.
He smiled and thought about joining her. But as he stepped back through the French doors into their bedroom, slap bang on top of that pleasant thought came an unwelcome surge of anxiety. Was Claire pinning too much hope on this holiday? He had a horrible suspicion that her whole focus on this trip away would be to produce a baby.
If it didn’t happen…?
He drew a huge breath, holding it for long seconds and letting it go noisily. The doctor had warned them not to expect too much. There was every chance this holiday wouldn’t produce the result Claire longed for and he was finding it harder and harder to console her when the baby blues struck.
He groaned. Damn it, he should be able to comfort his wife.
He loved Claire.
How could he not love her? She was lovely to look at and even lovelier to hold.
And the things he’d learned about her since their marriage had proved that she was his perfect life partner. Her delight in passionate lovemaking was an ongoing miracle, but, even more miraculously, she shared his intense interest in their property, Nardoo.
Most importantly, she was his best mate. She was fun!
After eight years, he knew and cherished every quirky detail of her personality and he’d always felt their relationship was rock solid in spite of their intense disappointment at not being able to have a baby of their own.
But just lately he’d felt a niggle of fear that perhaps Claire didn’t love him quite as completely as he loved her. He tried to tell himself he was wrong. How could he doubt her feelings after all these years?
He knew she loved him. She showed it in so many ways.
But her need for a baby was becoming desperate.
Heaven knew, he’d wanted a baby, too. In the bleak months that had followed his parents’ death in a light plane crash, the possibility that he and Claire would produce future generations of Townsends to inherit Nardoo had provided a measure of consolation.
But when the likelihood of babies had grown increasingly slim, he’d come to terms with that disappointment. He refused to give up hope, but he also knew that as long as he had Claire, he could still be happy.
She didn’t seem to feel that way. Lately, her longing was bordering on obsession, as if the idea of having a baby was the single most important thing in her life.
And more frequently these days, it left Adam feeling on the outside.
There was a click behind him and the bathroom door slid open. Claire, wrapped in a huge cherry-red bath towel, came slowly towards him across the thick cream carpet.
Her loose curls were caught on top of her head by a chunky plastic clip. Her face, cleaned of all make-up, looked fresh and astonishingly beautiful.
With gentle fingers, she reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You look a bit down in the mouth. Are you OK?’
‘Sure,’ he said, turning to kiss the inner curve of her hand. ‘Just tired.’
‘Long flights are the pits, aren’t they?’ She kept her hand there, cupping his face as she traced her thumb slowly along his jaw and he saw her mouth quirk into a secretive, sexy little smile.
‘It’s too bad you’re tired,’ she said softly as she trailed her hand down from his jaw to the inside of his open-necked shirt.
Her deep brown eyes were lit by a purposeful light. They glimmered, seductive and teasing. The message was unmistakable and Adam’s thoughts scrambled instantly.
Desire pulsed and surged through him. ‘Did I mention the word tired?’ he asked with a slow grin. ‘Of course, I’m not tired at all, but I’ll take a shower.’
‘You can shower later.’
Laughing, loving her, Adam reached forward, but with a playful laugh of her own she suddenly slipped daintily out of his reach and raised a hand to halt him.
‘Whoa, there!’ she teased, smiling.
She raised her other hand, undid the clasp that secured the knot of curls and slowly shook her soft blonde hair free. Then, just as slowly, she tossed the clip in the air. It bounced behind her onto the carpet as she propped both her hands on her hips and arched her back so that her breasts thrust cheekily forward.
Adam’s insides took a tumble-turn as the loose knot holding her towel slipped undone and it slid past her hips to the floor.
‘Ah—that feels better,’ she murmured.
His grin collapsed. With a breathless growl he closed the gap between them, and this time Claire offered no resistance when he hauled her close.
Hungrily, his hands found the lush curves of her naked bottom and he pulled her hard against the clamouring need of his arousal. ‘This feels a whole lot better,’ he assured her.
Claire’s fingers worked nimbly to undo the buttons of his shirt. ‘We’ll feel even better when you get rid of these.’
Oh, yes! ‘My wife is a shameless hussy,’ he murmured against her neck. She smelled so good—of something exotic—maybe sandalwood and flowers.
‘You’re not complaining, are you?’
‘Not a word of complaint, sweetheart.’ Not one single word!
His body throbbed with an almost painful urgency as he walked her backwards towards the enormous bed. When they reached it, their gazes meshed and Claire gave a little cry of excited surprise as he pushed her gently, so that she fell to the mattress with a light bounce.
With the briefest shrug of his shoulders, the shirt she’d unbuttoned dropped to the floor and he smiled down at her as she lay on the bed, her skin still glowing from the bath. After eight years, he would never grow tired of looking at this woman.
Flaring heat mounted even more insistently in his loins as he undid his belt buckle.
And watched her.
Watched her watching him…while he unsnapped the fastener on his jeans. Her eyes smouldered with a familiar, heated promise as his jeans and boxer shorts slid to the floor.
But then he paused.
For a tantalising, breathless minute, he delayed touching her while he deliberately took his time, delighting in a slow visual appreciation of her loveliness.
Her hair shimmered like a softly glowing candle against the midnight-blue silk of the bedspread. Her chocolate-brown eyes were dark with longing, her soft mouth was slightly parted to reveal a glimpse of white teeth. An impatient pulse beat in the delicate hollow at the base of her pale throat.
‘Do I still look OK in the evenings?’ she asked, huskily. His breath caught with a sharp in-drawn hiss as his gaze rested on the pretty, feminine lushness of her pink-tipped breasts and the smooth, pale skin of her slim waist, then, finally, her softly rounded hips and thighs, her long, slender legs.
‘You know you’re quite something,’ he said, his voice sounding as low and choked as hers. ‘In the mornings you look very OK. In the afternoons you look exceptionally OK, but in the evenings you look so OK I can’t think straight.’
‘So…’ Her eyes flashed a cheeky challenge. ‘Stop thinking.’
Her gaze slid down his body, returning his appraising look with one of her own. ‘You look much more than OK,’ she announced with a proprietorial grin. ‘You look sensational.’ Her arms reached out to him. ‘And, my dear man, you’re all mine.’
Supporting his weight with his hands on either side of her, he lowered his head to kiss her. They reached towards each other and their mouths met. Their lips and tongues merged and the kiss felt hauntingly familiar—lingering and loving—like a mixture of all their yesterdays.
‘You’re so right, my girl,’ he whispered. ‘I’m all yours. Only yours.’
‘That’s so good to know.’
He kissed her again and this kiss quickly turned feverish—deep and blazing—as full of alluring promise as tomorrow.
And at last, as his hands, trembling with desire, laid claim to her feminine bounty, he caressed her, loving her with the bold assurance of a man who understood completely all the intimate ways his woman longed to be touched.
From beneath half-shut lids, he saw Claire’s cheeks grow more flushed and he heard the soft moan of her excitement. He felt her hips lift and arch and his stomach took off in a high, curving dive.
‘Oh, Adam,’ she whispered. ‘Love me. I need you so badly.’
And faced with that sweet command, Adam let any shadowy doubts roll away.
CHAPTER TWO
‘I’VE lit a candle to St Anthony.’ Claire’s face shone as she joined Adam at the little sidewalk café.
They had spent three weeks in Europe now, first attending a series of conferences and seminars in various centres and then exploring northern Italy. Now they were spending half a day in Padua before catching a train across to Florence.
Adam had been wandering through the grounds of Padua’s famous university while Claire visited yet another church.
‘Any particular reason you chose St Anthony?’ he queried as a waiter served them coffee and pizza.
‘I found a brochure that says many infertile couples pin their hopes on him. They come to his church here in Padua especially.’ She reached forward and gripped Adam by the arm. ‘It claims that St Anthony has performed many amazing miracles. Maybe you should have come with me.’
Adam suppressed an urge to comment and took a deep draft of scalding coffee instead. He feared their holiday wasn’t working out quite as well as he’d hoped. Sure, Claire was enjoying the sights, she was bright and lively company.
But she’s not letting go!
On this trip she was meant to be following their doctor’s advice—relaxing completely—forgetting about the urgent need to prove her fertility.
The doctor had been quite firm. ‘You’ll stand a better chance if you can take things more calmly,’ he’d told them. ‘Some people can try too hard for a baby. Sometimes an intense yearning for a positive result can have the opposite effect.’
But Claire seemed to be more focused on her infertility than ever. If she wasn’t lighting candles in churches, she was buying expensive gifts for her sister-in-law Maria, or her children.
She’d spent hours selecting toys or clothes she would have loved to buy for her own child, if she’d had one.
As far as he could tell, she hadn’t bought anything for herself. In Venice, she’d found an exquisite glass angel and he’d thought she was going to indulge herself.
‘Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?’ she cried and her eyes glowed with joy.
Picturing it on the mantelpiece in Nardoo’s homestead, he agreed.
But as Claire carried it back to their hotel, she said, ‘I’m going to give this angel to Maria. I know she’d love it. And when we stop in Siena, I want to buy her a panettone. I’m sure she’d love an authentic Italian Christmas cake.’
What bothered him most about Claire’s preoccupation with Maria and her children was that he knew what lay behind it. Any day now, their sister-in-law was due to give birth to her fifth baby. Five kids!
It seemed she and Jim hadn’t yet figured out how those little ankle-biters started.
Claire tried to pretend that she wasn’t jealous of Maria—that she was happy for the younger woman. But Adam was quite sure that, beneath the cheery façade, she was growing more depressed and miserable.
And there was too damn little he could do about it.
The train journey to Florence took them through the beautiful hills of Tuscany. As the countryside rushed past them in a late autumn blur of red and gold flashes, Claire relaxed with her head on Adam’s broad shoulder and admired the spectacle through the train’s window.
But her heart set up a fretful pumping when the mobile phone in his coat pocket suddenly beeped. She swung upright, and her fingers dug into her palms as she watched him retrieve the phone. She studied his face carefully while he listened to his caller.
It could be simply a business call, but she fancied she could hear Jim’s voice. Her brother always felt he had to shout when he dialled long distance.
After a long period of listening, Adam said, ‘That’s great. Congratulations, mate. Thanks for letting us know and give our love to Maria.’
