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The Parent Test
Elizabeth Duke
A wedding for baby's sake…Roxy Warren was abroad when her baby niece was tragically orphaned. Little Emma is now in the custody of her uncle, Cam Raeburn. Roxy is furious! Cam is a playboy and knows nothing about babies!When Roxy arrives to stand in as Emma's mum, she can't forget the steamy kiss she and Cam once shared. He's still as gorgeous as ever but they both want custody. Cam has a solution–marriage! He gives Roxy a month to make up her mind–a month in which to prove they can be real parents to Emma–otherwise the custody battle begins!
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u80a7af39-96df-5d42-a657-f1e10d41b329)
About the Author (#u65863d63-4b35-5a4a-8e30-f1f80093d0fd)
Title Page (#u8e9aa25c-f0d4-5af4-8fbe-30d990538984)
Chapter One (#u7dd720be-7e94-5e81-9344-9f3de1552182)
Chapter Two (#u3ab453c4-4a3f-5d9d-b150-a52fbab51d4e)
Chapter Three (#ufd786d24-3d34-5762-8e8a-e6ab4df12bb7)
Chapter Four (#u7f055d32-b3d1-5662-89d0-34d6426ad792)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ELIZABETH DUKE was born in Adelaide, South Australia, but has lived in Melbourne all her married life. She trained as a librarian and has worked in many different types of libraries, but she was always secretly writing. Her first published book was a children’s novel, after which she successfully tried her hand at romance writing. She has since given up her work as a librarian to write romance full-time. When she isn’t writing or reading, she loves to travel with her husband, John, either within Australia or overseas, gathering inspiration and background material for future romances. She and John have a son and daughter, who are both married and have children of their own.
The Parent Test
Elizabeth Duke
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c06a590b-61b5-5adc-b11e-e80225091996)
ROXY’S nerves were strung tight by the time her plane touched down in Sydney after the long flight from Los Angeles. Her emotions were swinging from joyful anticipation at the thought of seeing her baby niece again, for only the second time, to a shivery dread at the prospect of coming face to face again with Cam Raeburn, the man she was prepared to fight for custody of her niece.
Nobody was at the airport to meet her, which didn’t surprise her. Nobody but her father knew that she was arriving back in Australia today, and he was living in Western Australia now, with Roxy’s stepmother Blanche. Crabby old Blanche had wanted to live near her own daughter’s family, as far away from her husband’s family as possible.
And now that Roxy’s sister Serena and brother-in-law Hamish had tragically gone, Blanche was doing her best to sever all ties with her remaining stepdaughter—and the orphaned baby girl Hamish and Serena had left behind.
‘No, of course the baby’s not with us!’ Blanche had squawked when Roxy had called from northern Mexico after hearing the shocking news of the tragic boating accident. ‘How could I take care of a baby with my arthritis? And your father has a bad heart, remember? Don’t worry, the child’s in good hands. Hamish’s brother, Cam Raeburn, is looking after her.’
Roxy wouldn’t have wanted Blanche taking care of her baby niece anyway, even temporarily. Even Cam Raeburn was preferable to Blanche. As the baby’s uncle and godfather, Cam should at least have his niece’s best interests at heart
Roxy humphed as she hailed a cab to her Sydney flat. Best interests or not, she had to make Cam see that she was the best one to take care of their niece from now on. She was Serena’s sister—the baby’s aunt—while he was a single man…a divorcee…a womanising bachelor who surely wouldn’t want to be lumbered with a baby indefinitely.
With a bit of luck the novelty of looking after his seven-month-old niece was already wearing off.
She hoped so—fervently. It would make things so much easier and less traumatic for the baby if he would simply hand their niece over. Once she had little Emma safely back here in Sydney, she would apply for formal custody.
It didn’t take long to reach her two-bedroomed flat in suburban Coogee—the flat where she’d be bringing baby Emma soon, hopefully. As she carried her bags into her bedroom Roxy caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.
She looked a fright. She couldn’t let Cam see her like this!
Her cotton top was like a crumpled rag. Her old faded jeans had stains from the coffee she’d spilt on the plane. And her short-cropped hair, normally sun-bleached and glowing with natural golden highlights, looked dull and drab and even more of a mess than usual.
She always wore her hair short, in a naturally tousled style—with her fine-boned face and slight build it suited her best that way and was easier to manage. But her new choppy hairstyle had short jagged bits sticking out all over. The nursing aide who’d cut it for her at the hospital in Los Angeles had called it a ‘dishevelled bob’, supposedly the latest trend in L.A. salons.
As her gaze settled on her drawn face, Roxy sighed. Normally tanned and healthy, she looked thin and pale after her three-week stay in hospital, and the long flight had left her blue eyes darkly shadowed and lacking their usual lustre.
She fingered her bottom lip tentatively. At least the surgery on her mouth had had time to heal…thanks to that ghastly virus which had kept her in hospital for an additional two long weeks. In fact, the extra time in hospital had been a blessing in another way too. It had given her time to mourn Serena and Ham-ish…time to recover from her grief and shock before coming home to face further trauma in the shape of Cam Raeburn.
Before taking a quick shower and changing into a fresh shirt and jeans, she called her father to let him know she was back and that she was planning to head down the coast to Raeburns’ Nest to claim her niece.
‘I’m home to take care of Emma now,’ she told him firmly.
‘Oh, Roxy, love, how can you look after a baby?’ Her father sounded frailer each time she talked to him. Part sorrow at losing a daughter, and part Blanche, Roxy thought with a grimace. Her stepmother would wear anyone out.
‘She’ll be better off with me than with Cam Raeburn,’ she insisted.
‘But you’re always away in some far-flung country, love. Emma would be stuck alone in your flat for months at a time and it would cost you a fortune in baby-sitters. How could you afford it? At least with Cam Raeburn caring for her, Emma will have an uncle and a live-in nanny with her all the time. And with his wealth, Cam can afford a daily housekeeper and every possible luxury.’
A live-in nanny…a daily housekeeper…every possible luxury. Roxy’s heart dipped.
‘And now that Cam owns Raeburns’ Nest,’ her father ploughed on, ‘he’s able to keep Emma in her own home, in familiar surroundings. With a rich uncle like Cam Raeburn, love, the baby won’t want for anything.’
Roxy pulled a face. ‘Anything but a mother.’
‘Roxy, love, with your field trips…’
‘I’ll give up my field work! I’ll try to get extra teaching hours at Uni. They have a creche there now.’ But the long summer break had just started at Uni and lectures didn’t resume until next March—four months away. ‘I’ll manage,’ she asserted, but her voice wavered. Whether she gave up her field work to stay at home all the time or not, how could she compete with what Cam Raeburn had to offer Emma?
‘You’d better have it out with Cam.’ Her father sighed. ‘I don’t think he’ll be prepared to give her up.’
‘Once he knows that I’m back and that I’m prepared to—’
‘He’s planning to get married again, love. He told me when I called him the other day to ask after Emma. He wants to give the baby a proper family again, he said, like she had with Hamish and Serena.’
Shock jolted Roxy into silence for several long seconds. Getting married again? Cam Raeburn?
‘He wants to marry one of his flashy bimbo brunettes?’ she finally bit out. She felt a trembling, irrational surge of fury. ‘I’ll fight him in the courts first!’
Her father gave a brief, sympathetic laugh. ‘A single, penniless female, fighting a rich industrial chemist with a highly profitable business and powerful connections? And a married man?’
‘He’s not married yet! And if I have anything to do with it, I’ll have poor little Emma out of his clutches before he is! Serena wanted me to have Emma,’ Roxy burst out. ‘She told me once that if anything ever happened to them, she wanted me to bring up their daughter!’
‘Serena—um—didn’t mention custody in her will, love…unfortunately. Look…you’d better take that up with Cam as well.’
‘Oh, I will, don’t worry.’ Her voice trembled. She’d have a lot of things to take up with Cam Raeburn when she saw him. But first she had to find out more about this woman he was planning to marry. As a married man—as a wealthy husband with a wife—he’d hold every trump card. She’d have no hope in the world of fighting him and winning.
Had he actually proposed yet? Or was he just thinking about it?
A bitter memory stirred, and she shivered. The night of her sister’s wedding…Cam Raeburn, leading her into that secluded moonlit garden…the deceptive magic in the air… She swallowed hard, remembering the way he’d kissed her, soaring her to heights she’d never known…the way he’d looked at her, gazing deep into her eyes…the way he’d murmured, in that deep rumbling voice of his, Things can happen when you least expect them to.
How prophetic his words had been! When she’d least expected it, the magic spell he’d been weaving had cruelly shattered. The moment Cam had found out that she wasn’t just a history lecturer, but also an archeologist who spent half her year out of Australia, scrabbling around in the dirt at remote digs, he’d lost interest in her. Worse, he’d dumped her for someone else. A stunning dark-eyed brunette.
Hurt, humiliated and angry, she’d been trying to avoid him ever since. They’d only come face to face once in the past year and a half…unavoidably, at baby Emma’s christening five months ago, when their niece was just two months old. In typical fashion, Cam had flaunted another raven-haired beauty in her face—a clone of the one at her sister’s wedding.
She hadn’t been back home since—until now.
Who was this girl Cam was planning to marry?
Had Cam Raeburn finally found a leggy, dark-eyed brunette who was willing to look after a home and a baby? Was he so determined to give his niece a secure, stable family life again that he’d decided to marry his niece’s nanny?
No! Roxy thought violently, her face heating. Serena’s baby is not going to be brought up by a roving-eyed uncle and some flashy bimbo who doesn’t genuinely care about her. Emma is my responsibility.
She drew in her lips, her eyes narrowing as she asked her father caustically, ‘Emma’s live-in nanny wouldn’t happen to be a young, stunning-looking brunette, by any chance?’
‘Young? A brunette? Mary?’ Her father gave a confused laugh. ‘No, love, Mary’s a widowed grandmother—a former mothercraft nurse. She used to mind the baby for Serena and Hamish when they wanted an evening out or at weekends when they went sai—’ He stopped, choking on the word ‘sailing’.
Roxy swiftly changed tack. ‘Well, I’m sure Cam won’t want to be left holding the baby for too long.’ It would cramp his style too much. ‘Not that he’ll need to, now that I’m home.’ Her spirits had lifted a little. At least it wasn’t the live-in nanny.
‘Roxy…’ It was Blanche’s voice on the phone now, sharp and impatient as always. ‘You’re tiring your father. It’s time for his rest’
‘I have to go anyway. Tell Dad to take care.’ Roxy hung up and started dialling the number of Raeburns’ Nest.
She was familiar with the number because Hamish and Serena had lived there during their idyllic, far-too-short marriage. Now Cam, it seemed, had moved back into his old family home. It belonged to him now.
She’d only spoken to Cam once since the tragedy six weeks ago, when she’d called him from northern Mexico after speaking to her father—and only after learning that Cam had temporary custody of the baby.
The line had been shocking, full of static, and she’d had to shout. ‘Cam? It’s Roxy Warren.’
‘Well…Roxy.’ She’d felt the chill in his voice even over that very noisy, distorted line. ‘You couldn’t even come home for your sister’s funeral. We thought a week’s notice would have been ample, even for you.’
A burst of ear-splitting static had muffled her indignant reply: ‘I’ve only just heard. I’ve been camping out in northern Mexico for the past—’
But Cam was speaking over her, his words cracking like gunfire down the fast-disintegrating line. ‘Your father could have done with your support at the funeral. Blanche was no—’ He swore, and gave up. ‘Look, this line’s impossible. Hang up and call your father. He’ll be back in Perth by now.’
‘I’ve already—’ But the line had gone dead.
Even now, anger surged inside her at the memory. She could have done with a little sympathy, not a barrage of unfair criticism. She hadn’t even had a chance to ask after her niece, let alone let Cam know that she was on her way home to take care of the baby.
Her unlucky accident on arriving in Los Angeles the next day—and the bug that had hit her days later in the hospital—had prevented her from making any more calls. She’d managed to send word to her father, via one of the nurses, and had eventually spoken to him herself before leaving the hospital.
But she’d made no attempt to call Cam Raeburn again until now. She hadn’t wanted to warn him that she was about to leave hospital and come home. She didn’t trust him.
She had good reason not to trust him.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_17febfe3-5921-51d8-9408-0e0c130f889b)
HER hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, waiting for an answer.
‘Cam Raeburn.’
Her stomach knotted. ‘Hullo, Cam, it’s Roxy. I’m back and I’d like to come down to Raeburns’ Nest to see Emma,’ she said breathlessly, before he had a chance to cut in.
She didn’t like the pause that followed. ‘By all means,’ he agreed finally. ‘Why don’t you pack an overnight bag and stay for the weekend? If you can spare a whole weekend with your niece.’
She gritted her teeth, even as her heart jumped in panic at the thought of staying under the same roof as Cam Raeburn for a whole weekend. ‘I have all the time in the world,’ she assured him loftily. ‘My niece is my top priority from now on.’
And I’ll stay at Raeburns’ Nest for as long as it takes to convince you of that, she added under her breath. If she hoped to convince him that she was the best person to look after Emma, she would have to use the utmost care and tact…and be prepared to stay for however long it took.
‘Is it all right if I come now? This afternoon?’ she asked in a less confrontational tone. Sleeping off her jet lag would have to wait.
‘We’ll be here. You can remember where to come?’
She scowled at the implication that she’d seldom been home to visit her family. ‘I’ll find it,’ she ground out. She’d only been to Raeburns’ Nest once before…on the day of Emma’s christening five months ago, on her last visit home. Serena and Hamish had invited everyone back to their home after the simple ceremony at their local church.
As she showered and changed, Roxy brooded on the unwanted encounter.
There’d been no avoiding Cam in the tiny coastal church. As godmother and godfather to baby Emma, they’d had to stand side by side at the font.
Cam hadn’t changed a bit in the twelve months that had passed since Serena’s wedding. Still as good-looking as ever, as sexy as ever. The same tall, athletic build…the same amazing shoulders…the same shiny dark hair…the same glittering black eyes…but the softness she’d once seen in them had gone.
He’d been the first to break the ice. Every painful word, every charged look, was etched in her memory.
‘Back for long this time, Roxy?’
She bristled at his tone, at the cynically raised eyebrow. A year might have passed, but obviously nothing had changed. She’d thought for a fleeting second, as their eyes briefly met, that a spark had leapt to life in the lethal black depths, but it was gone in a flash.
His normal reaction to a woman—any woman, no doubt—until he’d remembered who she was. A footloose, scruffy-haired history freak who liked fossicking in the heat and dust in remote corners of the world, unearthing ancient civilisations.
‘I’ll be going away again sooner than I expected,’ she hissed back at him, tossing her head to show him she couldn’t wait to go—while wishing at the same time that she’d worn something a little more sophisticated to her niece’s christening than a long-sleeved granny dress, straw hat and flat-heeled shoes.
‘There’s been an exciting new find in the far north of Mexico,’ she crisply informed him, ‘and I’ve been invited to join the team there. I’m leaving next week.’
Despite the coolness between them, her body was reacting to his nearness, her nerve-ends quivering, her skin heating. It was his fault she’d decided to go away again so soon, his fault she’d extended her field trips since her sister’s wedding. If Cam’s passionate kisses had genuinely meant something…if he’d asked her to stay…if he’d wanted her to stay… But he hadn’t. He’d preferred the dark-eyed brunette.
He’d even brought another flashing-eyed bimbo to his niece’s christening!
‘Roxy…I don’t believe you’ve met Belinda.’ Cam’s eyes hadn’t even flickered as he’d introduced her to his latest dark-eyed stunner. ‘Belinda’s a member of my tennis club, back in Sydney.’
I bet you’ve done more than played tennis together, Roxy had thought nastily, noting the woman’s luscious red lips and provocative smile. A real femme fatale. Just Cam’s type.
The type who would never have dirty fingernails or a hair out of place.
She sighed. Tousle-haired, blue-eyed blondes with an odd dress sense and a craze for ancient civilizations were obviously not Cam’s type.
Roxy dismissed the galling memory, sighing heavily as she threw clothes into a bag—enough for a week or longer—then jumped into her car for the two-hour drive south. She wondered if the dark-eyed Belinda was still around. Or was there yet another ravishing brunette? Ravishing enough for Cam to want to marry?
It was a slow trip out of the city, and there was heavy traffic on the freeway south. After a trying hour and a half, she caught a glimpse of the coast, and the sprawling industrial city of Wollongong, where Cam’s flourishing chemical and fibremaking plant was, as well as his head office and a company house where he could stay if he wished. She knew that he also had a marketing office in Sydney—and a city penthouse.
She blew out a sigh. How could she compete with all that?
After another half an hour she saw the long sweep of the coast again, and the popular coastal township of Kiama, where her brother-in-law, Hamish, had co-owned a pharmacy.
Roxy gulped down a lump in her throat, still finding it hard to believe that Hamish and Serena had gone. They’d been so perfect for each other, so happy together. They’d shared everything. Even—tragically—a love of sailing.
Blinking away a blur of tears, she turned her thoughts to their baby daughter, wondering how her niece was getting on with Cam Raeburn—a very different type of man from the baby’s gentle, home-loving father, Hamish. Emma had been with Cam for six weeks now. Had they bonded in that time? Would the baby be upset, all over again, if she took her away from him?
Raeburns’ Nest was a few kilometers further down the coast, perched high on the rich green cliffs overlooking the ocean. Hamish and Cam had jointly inherited the family home on the death of their widowed father. The two brothers had shared the house until Cam married his wife, Kimberley, and built a new home in the lush Kangaroo Valley nearby—a house he’d sold after his divorce, moving back into his Sydney apartment and his company house at Wollongong. Hamish had stayed on at Raeburns’ Nest, bringing his beloved bride, Serena, to live there with him after their whirlwind two-month courtship.
Roxy’s hands began to tremble as the house came into view. Set in a couple of acres of natural bush, the big old sandstone house looked even more comfortably imposing then the last time she’d seen it, now that the new guest wing, which Hamish had been building on at the time, was complete. As she swung her baby Mazda into the gravel drive alongside the house, she caught a glimpse of the tree-lined tennis court and fenced in-ground swimming pool to the rear of the house, framed by trees, lawn and thick bush.
An ideal home for bringing up a family, she mused with a sigh, her spirits nosediving. How could her two-bedroomed city flat compete with a home like this? With luxury like this?
Dragging her bag from the rear seat, and the giant teddy bear she’d bought for the baby at L.A. airport, she followed a brick-paved path to the side door, avoiding the formal front entrance overlooking the cliffs.
She expected to see Cam’s housekeeper appear when she knocked, or even Mary, the nanny, but it was Cam himself who opened the door.
For a stunned second she stood staring at him, unable to speak. He looked so vastly different from her remembered image of him. On the only two occasions she’d met him before he’d been dressed to the nines—in formal black tie at Serena’s wedding, and twelve months later, at Emma’s christening, in a stylish grey suit, neat white shirt and red silk tie.
On both occasions his thick dark hair had been neatly slicked back and shiny clean, his handsome, strong-jawed face clean-shaven, his powerful shoulders enhanced by the superb cut of his jacket.
Today he was wearing frayed denim shorts and a faded T-shirt with food stains down the front. His strong face was shadowed with overnight growth, his thick hair uncombed, looking as if he’d just climbed out of bed, and his long tanned feet were bare, with an orange splotch on one of them.
She felt almost overdressed, for once, in her washed-out blue jeans, long-sleeved white shirt, loosely knotted at the waist, and well-worn sneakers.
Yet—she swallowed hard—his appearance didn’t repel her, as it should have. He looked incredibly, heart-stoppingly sexy.
As if realising he was under scrutiny, Cam’s mouth curved in a face-crinkling smile that was part mocking, part rueful.
‘I haven’t had time to shave yet, though I did manage a quick shower, after the baby threw up all over me. Lunchtime was interesting too…’ He brushed a hand over his stained T-shirt. ‘This was a clean shirt until Emma made it clear she doesn’t like mashed pumpkin. I’m on my own this weekend,’ he explained. ‘I gave Mary the weekend off to visit her family, and Philomena doesn’t come at weekends.’
Philomena, Roxy assumed, was his housekeeper. Since she wasn’t around at weekends, she was unlikely to be one of his bimbos!
‘You’re finding our niece a handful?’ she asked hopefully. If he was complaining already, it shouldn’t be too difficult to persuade him to hand Emma over.
‘Even the best mothers find babies a handful at times,’ he said dryly. ‘Come in, Roxy, I’ll show you to your room. You can see Emma later. She’s asleep at the moment and I don’t believe in waking a sleeping baby unnecessarily.’
Roxy bit her tongue, tempted as she was to protest at the implication that she was unnecessary. He was quite right not to wake the baby. Even if his motive might be suspect.
As he closed the door behind her he studied her face for a disconcerting few seconds. She sucked in a breath as strong warm fingers closed round her chin, tilting her face upward.
‘Well…they certainly did a good job.’ His tone was faintly caustic. Not a hint of sympathy. He drew back, letting her go as if the very touch of her repulsed him. ‘Though why in hell’s name you’d want to have cosmetic surgery in the first place, let alone now, when you could have been here at home comforting your father or your sister’s baby…well, it leaves me baffled. And disgusted, frankly.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You think—’
‘Well, okay…so you were already in hospital with some virus—fair enough—but don’t deny you used the opportunity to have a little nip and a tuck while you were recuperating in that L.A. hospital.’
Roxy’s chest heaved, her breath coming in furious gulps. ‘Who—told—you—that?’ she managed to gasp out.
‘Your father told me…no, Blanche. Blanche, cutting in on poor old George, as usual.’ The corner of his lip quirked. He shared her opinion of Blanche. The only thing they did share, though she’d hoped at one time—a fleeting, futile hope—that they might one day share other things, too.
‘She told me, quite clearly, that you were having cosmetic surgery on your face,’ Cam said flatly.
Jealous, bitchy Blanche…Roxy’s hands balled into fists. ‘I didn’t have cosmetic surgery,’ she ground out. ‘I had microsurgery. To repair a wound. Trust Blanche to get it wrong.’ Deliberately, if she knew Blanche.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Microsurgery? A wound? Where?’ Again she had to suffer his scrutiny, his gaze searing into her already flushed skin.
She swallowed. ‘On my mouth. My lower lip. I tripped over a street kerb as I jumped out of a car in L.A. to rush into a shop. I crashed headfirst onto a concrete plant pot’
‘You were gallivanting around LA, shopping, after hearing the news of your sister’s death?’ Cam shook his head, cold contempt in his eyes. ‘Your father sent you an urgent fax six weeks ago, while you were still in northern Mexico. You sure were in no hurry to come home!’
She glared at him. ‘I didn’t get Dad’s tax until three weeks after he sent it! I was at a campsite in a remote part of northern Mexico at the time. Deliveries aren’t exactly reliable in that part of the world. By then the funeral had already been held.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘I was devastated at missing it.’
As she gulped in a breath, Cam eyed her skeptically. ‘But having missed it, you decided there was no rush.’ His tone was scathing, his unfair condemnation cutting into her like a knife.
‘I was rushing—that was the whole trouble! One of our team—an American—offered to drive me across the border to L.A. airport. We were on our way there when the accident happened. I’d leapt out on the way to buy a toy for Emma.’
As Cam’s gaze flickered to the giant teddy in her arms she shook her head. ‘I bought this yesterday—at L.A. airport. After my stupid fall, I ended up in hospital, having surgery—microsurgery—on a badly cut lip. And a couple of days later I was hit by a mysterious bug I must have picked up in Mexico.’
As she paused for breath she noted shakily that Cam’s eyes had lost some of their icy scorn. But not much. The very fact that she’d been away for so long—out of reach for so long—obviously weighed against her.
‘And it was bad enough to keep you in hospital for another three weeks?’
‘Yes!’ Indignation flashed in her eyes. ‘It completely knocked me out. I had a raging fever…I was delirious for days…and weak as a kitten for days after that. And because of the surgery on my lip, I couldn’t even talk to begin with!’
‘Well…your surgeons should be commended.’ She felt his dark gaze on her mouth. ‘There’s not a trace of any scarring. Or bruising. You’d never know you’d had anything done.’
She frowned. Did he still not believe her?
‘They did the repair from inside my mouth—that’s why there’s no visible scarring. And the swelling and bruising have had time to heal, thanks to that horrific virus. My mouth feels fine. Perfect. I feel fine.’ She didn’t want him to think she was still weak, and perhaps unable to take care of her niece.
‘You still look pale…and very thin…but if you’re feeling fine again, that’s splendid’ Taking her bag, he turned on his heel, freeing her at last of his burning gaze. ‘Come on, Roxy…let’s get you settled in.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_067f5b69-2101-5804-95a4-049ddd12d1f2)
CAM didn’t speak as he led her along the main passage to the guest wing. Perhaps, Roxy thought, giving him the benefit of the doubt, he didn’t want to risk waking the baby.
Seeing him from behind reminded her—a bittersweet reminder—of the first time she’d ever set eyes on him, as he’d stood at the altar alongside his brother, waiting for Serena and her bridesmaid to join them. Roxy had been the bridesmaid and Cam the best man.
Only their backs had been visible. Cam, the elder brother, was half a head taller than the bridegroom, with shoulders that were considerably wider than those of his equally well-built brother. His glossy dark hair contrasted starkly with Hamish’s wiry, gingery mop. At the sight of Hamish’s brother, who was to be her partner for the evening, she’d almost overbalanced halfway down the aisle. Her feet, unused to high heels, had rolled over slightly on her long spiky heels.
She’d tried to avoid looking at him after that, but annoyingly, his image had remained. She’d taken a few deep breaths, wondering how she could be so aware of a man after a single, fleeting glance from behind. Normally she had nothing but scorn for roving-eyed, love-’em-and-leave-’em types—the type Cam was rumoured to be.
No woman, Hamish had liked to joke, was safe around Cam. No woman could resist him.
No woman? Roxy had stirred at the challenge.
Cam Raeburn, she’d naively thought at the time, would need more than a pair of powerful shoulders and a head of glossy black hair to hold her interest for more than two minutes!
Ha! She’d been like a lamb to the slaughter!
She hadn’t come directly face to face with him until they’d moved into the vestry after the ceremony to sign the register.
‘Well, I must say you’re a surprise, Roxy.’ Cam’s warm honeyed tones and disarming half smile had threatened to melt her where she stood…until his words had sunk in and her nerve-ends had sprung to full alert.
A surprise? A disappointment, more like! No doubt he’d expected a tall, dark-eyed beauty like Serena. Unless Hamish had warned him that she was the pint-sized, tomboyish, unglamorous sister—and here she was, looking glamorous for once, in a shimmering cornflower blue gown, the colour of her eyes.
She’d gazed up at him coolly, only to feel her eyes waver under the impact of his. His eyes, even darker than her dark-eyed sister’s, were like shining black opals, filled with fire and light. She’d had to moisten her lips before she could take in the rest of him—the heavy dark brows, the straight nose, the sexy cleft in his chin, the square jaw.
Finally she’d found her voice, tilting her chin to inquire sweetly, ‘You were expecting a scruffy little ragamuffin with dirty fingernails and scuffed shoes?’
The half smile had become a real one, a heart-stopping smile of pure charm. She’d wobbled on her high heels.
‘On the contrary, Roxy…I was merely expecting someone older—you are the older sister, aren’t you? Having heard only moments ago how brilliantly clever you are—teaching ancient history at University—I expected, at the very least, to see you wearing blue stockings and bifocals, with your hair tied back in a bun.’
She’d had to smile. He wouldn’t be the first man to expect her to look like a fusty academic-simply because she was a qualified archeologist and a lecturer in ancient history. Only Cam hadn’t known then, of course, that she was a globetrotting archeologist as well as a history lecturer. Hamish hadn’t thought to mention it to him, which wasn’t surprising. She’d had no field trips in the past couple of months, and his brother, Cam, had only arrived home that morning from an eightweek overseas business trip.
‘The guest wing’s through here, Roxy.’
She jumped at the sound of Cam’s voice. As he turned to wave her in ahead of him, their eyes met. The impact of his dark gaze was as jolting as ever.
Still the same sexy, charismatic Cam, Roxy thought with a tremulous sigh. But he couldn’t affect her any more. She wasn’t the naive, trusting Roxy she’d been a year and a half ago.
Not that he’d notice or care. He’d made it clear on at least two previous occasions that he preferred leggy, dark-eyed brunettes to blue-eyed, mop-haired blondes with a tendency to trip over their own feet.
She stepped quickly past him. The guest wing was virtually a self-contained flat, with its own small kitchen, dining area, living room, double bedroom and spacious bathroom. It looked roomy and comfortable, with homey decorative touches that reminded Roxy of her sister. Serena had loved decorating.
‘The bed’s already made up,’ Cam told her as he followed her in.
Roxy, her nerves already taut, tensed further at the mention of ‘bed’. She wondered who the bed had been made up for. Was it always made up, ready for guests? Women guests? Or had Cam rushed in here after her phone-call and made it up specially for her?
Hugging the soft teddy bear, she asked, ‘Where’s the baby’s room from here? I’d like to be near my niece.’
Cam gave her a quick, speculative look, as if he wasn’t sure he believed her. ‘Mary’s taken over the room next door to the nursery. And the master bedroom, where I sleep, is on the other side of Emma’s room. Don’t worry, Roxy, I’ll get up to the baby if she wakes in the night. I normally do anyway.’
Roxy inhaled a carefully drawn breath. She didn’t want to start an argument at this point in time, but she had to ask. ‘How about moving my niece in here with me, just for the weekend?’ Or longer, she thought, if it takes longer. ‘It’ll be a way of getting to know each other. I’ll get up to her during the night if she cries. You can catch up on your sleep.’ Her gaze flicked to his face. ‘You look as if you need it’
‘Thanks, but it’s not necessary.’ You’re not necessary, he might as well have said. ‘I’m managing just fine. Emma already sleeps through the night. She has her last bottle around seven, then sleeps right through until five or six o’clock. She rarely wakes in the night’.
‘You don’t mind waking up at five to feed her?’ Roxy’s spirits were beginning to slide. He sounded as if he enjoyed looking after the baby.
But for how much longer would his enthusiasm last?
‘Not a bit…she’s already like a daughter to me,’ he said with a firmness that made her forget about being careful.
‘My sister wanted me to have custody of Emma if anything ever…ever…’ Her voice cracked and tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I—I still can’t believe…’ She gulped, a painful lump welling in her throat. Suddenly it was all too much. Grief, jet lag and a build-up of nervous tension swamped her. Burying her face in the teddy bear’s soft fur, she burst into tears.
‘Roxy…’ Cam’s arms were round her before she realised what was happening. She couldn’t find the strength to fight him as, cradling her in the curve of his shoulder, he gently plucked the teddy bear from her and dropped it onto the bed. She let her head fall onto his chest, helpless tears pouring down her cheeks, splashing onto his shirt.
‘It’s okay, Roxy…’ His low voice vibrated against the damp cheek pressed against his chest. He was stroking her hair with an amazingly gentle hand while he held her close to him with his other. The tender stroking felt so caring, so comforting that she couldn’t believe it was Cam Raeburn who was doing it. Weakened by his unexpected sympathy she began to sob in earnest, her breath coming in tremulous gulps, her shoulders heaving, her tearful face still pressed into his T-shirt, soaking the faded fabric.
Cam held her, rocking her as gently as one would rock a baby, until she’d cried out all her bottled-up pain and grief.
Finally she raised her face, furiously blinking away her tears. She didn’t want Cam thinking she was falling into a heap and couldn’t cope with Serena’s baby. ‘Sorry, Cam, I…it just caught up with me. Serena… Hamish… the long flight…the lack of sleep. I’m all right now. Truly.’
He drew back and looked down at her, as if to make sure. ‘No need to apologise.’ He was eyeing her strangely. His voice sounded a bit strange, too, not as cool or as smooth as before. ‘It’s healthy to cry…even if it—’ He clamped his mouth shut and stepped back, letting his hands fall away. His eyes were hidden from her now, and she could sense his withdrawal.
‘I’ll make you some coffee.’ His voice was brusque again, back to normal. ‘Come when you’re ready, Roxy. I’ll be in the kitchen. Just follow the passage.’
He left her to unpack and freshen up. When she joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, bringing the giant teddy bear with her, he was standing at an island bench, chopping vegetables.
‘Stir fry for dinner okay with you?’ he asked, waving her to a stool.
‘You cook, too?’ He was chopping with a practiced air, as if he’d done this chore many times before.
‘As a bachelor, you need to be able to cook if you don’t want to live on take-away or dine out every night. I’ve come to enjoy it, even though I have Philomena to cook for me these days, if I want her to. Do you cook, Roxy?’ He glanced up, and she caught the glimmer of doubt in his eyes.
‘Give me a camp fire and I’ll show you how well I cook,’ she answered flippantly, propping the teddy bear on the stool beside her. With a tilt of her small chin she added, ‘I might not have your undoubted finesse—I’m no cordon bleu cook—but at least I’ll never starve.’
His eyes narrowed under her feisty gaze, and she wished she hadn’t reminded him of her roving lifestyle.
‘Mind if we have our coffee here in the kitchen? I can go on with my chopping.’ As he poured coffee into two mugs, he asked, ‘Did your father give you the details of your sister’s will, Roxy?’
Roxy’s head jerked up. ‘What details?’ Custody of Emma, did he mean? According to her father, Serena had made no mention of custody in her will.
‘Serena left you a few personal items and some jewellery. I have them in the safe. The Sydney flat that your father bought for you and your sister when he sold your family home and moved to the west coast is now officially yours. It’s been virtually yours anyway, I understand, since Serena married Hamish.’
Roxy frowned into her coffee. Was he hoping she’d go back to her Sydney flat and stay there? Or thinking, maybe, that she didn’t deserve a city flat of her own, since she was so seldom at home?
‘What about…Serena’s clothes?’ she asked with difficulty, without looking at him. ‘Are they still here, waiting to be sorted through?’ If Cam was using the master bedroom, he must have either disposed of them or put them aside for her to deal with.
‘Blanche went through your sister’s things while she and your father were over here for the funeral,’ Cam told her, adding almost accusingly, ‘You weren’t here, Roxy. We hadn’t even heard from you.’ Then, on a softer note, ‘Blanche said that none of Serena’s things would fit you anyway—your sister being so much taller. She bundled everything up and sent it off to a charity.’
Roxy shrugged. No doubt Blanche had taken a few things for herself or her married daughter first. Not that she minded. It would be too painful to wear any of Serena’s clothes anyway. A piece of jewellery…a few personal items…simply as a memento…that was different.
‘Raeburns’ Nest now belongs to me.’ Cam paused to take a sip of his coffee. ‘Everything else—Hamish’s share in the pharmacy and any other money or valuables from their joint estate—will be put into trust for their daughter.’ He flicked her a look, as if waiting for comment.
Roxy took a deep breath and asked, ‘Did Hamish’s will mention custody of their daughter?’
As she glanced up, she caught a glint in Cam’s eye that filled her with foreboding. He told her, in a level, velvet-soft tone, ‘My brother named me as his daughter’s guardian. It was his express wish,’ he spelt out, ‘that I have custody of Emma.’
Roxy’s hand jerked, spilling her coffee. ‘My sister specifically asked me to take care of their daughter if anything ever happened to them!’
Cam’s brow shot up. ‘I’m sure Hamish wouldn’t have named me, Roxy, without Serena’s agreement. Your sister must have changed her mind. No doubt Hamish pointed out how impractical it would be to expect you—a devoted career woman who’s away from Australia for most of the year—to take care of a young child. He must have convinced her that I’d be the best one to have custody.’
Roxy sucked in an incensed breath. ‘My sister would never change her mind! Hamish must have meant that—that he would want you to take care of Emma temporarily…just until I could come back from wherever I was and take over! Or…or he wanted you to be her financial guardian. That’s more like it! Not her permanent, everyday guardian.’
‘I don’t think so.’
His calmness infuriated her even more. ‘I’ll fight you for custody!’ she threatened recklessly.
He laughed. ‘You can’t possibly want permanent custody, Roxy. You’re never at home. You’re always hightailing off to some remote archeological dig where you don’t even get vital mail when it’s sent to you. And when you do, you trip over things and catch foreign bugs that keep you away for weeks longer!’
She winced, and jutted her chin. ‘I’ll give up my field work. Naturally.’
He shook his head, his smile almost pitying. ‘Easy to say that, Roxy…but not so easy to mean it. Sorry, sweetheart, but my brother wanted me to have custody of our niece. Your sister gave no written instructions to suggest that she disagreed.’
‘Well, she’d hardly be expecting to die at the age of twenty-four!’ Roxy snapped back. She gulped down her fury, and after snatching in some breaths of air said more calmly, ‘Surely it’s better for a baby girl to be brought up by a woman—an aunt who can be a real mother figure to her—than a phil—’ She was about to say ‘philandering’, but had second thoughts about hurling insults at this delicate stage. ‘Than a bachelor uncle. You surely must know by now how a baby ties you down.’
Her arguments failed to move him. ‘A daughter should have a father and a mother, and I intend to give Emma both—as soon as I can arrange it.’
Roxy’s heart chilled. So her father was right. Cam was planning to get married again. She felt a sharp twinge. On Emma’s behalf, she told herself frac-tiously. Poor little soul, having one of Cam’s bimbos thrust onto her.
‘Belinda, do you mean?’ she asked before she could stop herself. She clamped her mouth shut. The thought of the dark-eyed, tennis-playing brunette married to Cam and helping to bring up her baby niece made her blood boil. Never, she thought. Never!
‘Belinda?’ Cass looked amused. ‘No, it won’t be Belinda. Belinda’s gone back to her exhusband. She’s living in Melbourne now.’
Roxy felt an irrational leap of relief, before her spirits plunged again. Gone back to her husband… If wives could go back to their husbands…
‘Is your ex-wife coming back to you?’ she blurted out.
Cam laughed. A harsh, scathing laugh, his mouth twisting. ‘Hardly. My wife is happily remarried, and has a new life far more suited to her than the life I offered her.’
The mocking black eyes turned cold and flat under her gaze. Roxy swallowed, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. Did that biting cynicism hide a deep hurt? She felt a wave of sympathy for him.
Until she remembered what was at stake. Her niece. She reached for her coffee, hardening her heart as she gulped it down.
She couldn’t afford any weakening towards Cam Raeburn. She had to remain strong enough to fight him.
In the swirling silence a baby began to cry.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_fb8bc2c8-66d6-586a-8a62-6ed6f673e575)
‘LET me go to her,’ Roxy offered, jumping up, her hand reaching for the big teddy bear.
But Cam was already on his feet. ‘Come with me, by all means, but I think Emma should see a familiar face first up.’
‘Oh. Yes…of course.’ Although Roxy could see the sense in that, she was only too aware that he was reminding her yet again that she was a virtual stranger to her niece. As she trailed after him to the nursery, she asked, ‘You’ve seen a lot of Emma since she was born?’ She was wondering how long Cam had been a familiar face to the baby. Only since his brother’s death?
‘Enough for her to recognise me with a big smile when I moved in here with her,’ he tossed back, and she drew in her lips. It was Cam’s fault she hadn’t seen more of her infant niece in the past seven months. She’d taken on longer field trips to avoid him.
Already she was regretting her long absences abroad. It would have been preferable to risk running into Cam occasionally than to become a virtual stranger to her baby niece.
What if little Emma wanted nothing to do with her? Roxy bit her lip, a rush of nervousness sweeping through her as she followed Cass into the nursery—a light», charmingly decorated room with a window overlooking the lush green cliffs and the deep blue ocean beyond.
Cam lifted the baby from her cot, but her high-pitched wails continued. ‘I know, I know, you’re wet and you want a clean nappy. And I guess you’re ready for your bottle, too.’ He seemed surprisingly unperturbed. ‘Let’s get you out of your wet nappy first, huh?’ He glanced round at Roxy. ‘I guess she still misses her mother, poor kid. Mary’s been a lifesaver. Emma adores her. Mary’s been like a grandmother to her.’
Roxy’s heart wrenched. She wanted Emma to adore her, not an elderly baby-sitter. But she wasn’t being fair. If Mary was like a grandmother to Emma, her niece was lucky to have such a caring baby-sitter.
‘Can I hold her while you find her a clean nappy?’ she begged, her heart going out to the wailing baby as she dropped the teddy bear into the baby’s cot and waited expectantly.
‘Let’s get her changed first.’ Cam was already lowering Emma onto a changing table. He had the wet nappy off in a trice, snatching up a clean one from the shelf below. ‘Ever changed a baby’s nappy?’ he asked her with a mocking sidelong glance.
Roxy took a deep breath. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m sure if you can master it, so can I.’
‘Quite. Watch how I do it, and next time you can have a go.’ He fastened the clean nappy with more speed, Roxy noted critically, than finesse. The baby, she thought, definitely needs a woman’s touch.
‘Thank heaven for disposable nappies,’ Cam commented, tickling the baby’s tummy. The crying miraculously stopped and the baby began to gurgle, a beautiful smile spreading across her tiny heartshaped face. ‘Voilà!’ Cam gave a triumphant grin. ‘Feeling better already, aren’t you, princess?’
Roxy took a step forward and bent over her baby niece, her eyes misting.
‘Oh, she’s so beautiful,’ she cried involuntarily. The baby had changed so much in the past five months. ‘She looks just like—like her mother looked at the same age.’ She raised blurred eyes to Cam’s face. ‘She has Serena’s eyes…Serena’s lovely smile…Serena’s dark hair. Can I hold her now?’ she pleaded huskily.
He nodded and stood aside. ‘Of course you can.’ She caught an odd glint in his eye as she blinked her tears away, but it was gone even before she turned back to the baby. It could have been surprise… doubt…mistrust…she couldn’t tell.
‘Emma…hullo, sweetheart,’ she said gently. ‘I’m your aunt Roxy, remember?’ With a smile she reached for the baby, bracing herself for a refusal, and renewed wails.
But there were no wails, no refusal. The baby, still smiling her dimpled smile, raised her tiny arms and reached out to her. With a rush of overwhelming love and relief, Roxy gathered her niece in her arms.
As she nursed the baby on her shoulder, stroking her soft hair with tender fingers, overcome by the fragile, sweet-smelling bundle in her arms, she saw Cam watching her. Ready, no doubt, to seize the baby from her if she started crying again. But mercifully she didn’t, and Roxy’s fears began to slide away. She was over the first hurdle, at least.
‘I’ll go and get her bottle ready,’ said Cam, and he slipped from the room. Roxy saw the baby’s eyes following him, saw her lip wobble, and decided to follow him, cuddling the baby in her arms as she headed for the kitchen.
It was only the second time in Emma’s short life that she’d held the baby in her arms, but it felt so different this time—overwhelmingly different. Never had she felt so close to her sister’s cherished child, so deeply moved, so filled with love and sadness and joy, all mixed up together. It made her more determined than ever to fill the tragic void her sister’s death had left.
But what if Cam wouldn’t give up the baby, and insisted on fighting her for custody? What hope would she have of taking him to court and winning? Especially if he had a wife by the time the case came to court. A wife who would care nothing for a baby girl who wasn’t even Cam’s child—as her own stepmother, Roxy brooded, cared nothing for her.
The baby began to whimper as she spied her bottle, and Roxy murmured softly, ‘It’s coming, sweetheart, it’s coming.’
‘She should have had this earlier,’ Cam muttered as he popped the bottle into the microwave, ‘but she fell asleep before I could give it to her. We’re a bit out of our routine today.’
When the bottle was ready he let Roxy feed the baby, suggesting they go into the family room to sit in comfort. Instead of leaving her alone with Emma, he stayed to watch, lowering himself into the armchair opposite. Roxy wondered peevishly if he was still worried about leaving his niece alone with her.
She sighed. It was good that he cared so much for the baby, but not so good that he thought so little of her.
‘If you want to go and do something else, feel free,’ she invited hopefully. Her suspicion that he didn’t trust her with the baby was making her nervous. ‘You must have lots of other things you could be doing.’ With no Mary for the weekend, and no Philomena to cook and clean up for him…
She gulped as it hit her for the first time. She was here alone with him for the whole weekend. She would be alone overnight with him. And tomorrow night. And maybe she’d still be here next week as well, if Cam hadn’t agreed to hand Emma over by then. Assuming he allowed her to stay on.
She began to shake.
The baby made a querulous sound, and Roxy snapped back to earth, cooing softly until Emma settled down again, and resumed her contented sucking on the bottle.
‘I’ll never keep her from you, Roxy,’ Cam promised, his voice bringing her head up with a jerk. ‘You can see the baby whenever you want to. Any time,’ he said expansively, though his eyes were strangely hooded, she noted. ‘Whenever you’re at home’ he added with a touch of dryness. ‘I want her to be close to you, too, Roxy.’
Her blue eyes sparked fire. How generous, she thought caustically. Was he speaking for his new wife, too? Would she want a young, single aunt constantly popping into their lives? Or would she want to keep Cam and baby Emma to herself?
Roxy thought of her possessive, mean-streaked stepmother, Blanche, who’d never wanted to share her husband with anybody, not even his own daughters. Would Cam’s wife be like Blanche, jealously keeping her husband to herself? Perhaps, in time, even wanting to keep Cam from his niece as well?
Rebellion stirred in Roxy’s heart. She couldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t!
‘I’m home for good now,’ she announced firmly. ‘I’m not going on any more field trips.’ She had to make him believe it, and waste no time about it. In the days to come, while she was here at Raeburns’ Nest, she would have to make herself indispensable to the baby so that Cam would see that she was the best one to bring up their niece.
It was vital that she took little Emma from him before he plunged into another marriage, purely for the baby’s sake. Once he was married, she might find herself shut out of her niece’s life altogether, despite what Cam was promising now. His new wife would have no emotional ties with Serena’s baby, and a woman who felt nothing for a child could cause lifelong pain and psychological damage to both the child and to everyone who cared for her welfare.
Roxy felt a fierce protective urge towards the helpless baby in her arms. How could any stepmother feel as strongly for Emma as she felt?
She bowed her head over the feeding baby, hiding her eyes from Cam’s probing gaze. Even if his new wife welcomed her into their home with open arms…even if the woman proved to be a wonderful mother to Emma…how, Roxy wondered bleakly, could she bear to come back here in the future, knowing that Cam would be here…with another woman?
How could she bear to see him gazing at his wife the way he’d once, briefly but earth-shatteringly, gazed at her? How could she bear to see him holding his wife the way he’d once held her? The way he’d held her again earlier today—even if he’d only been trying to comfort her?
She almost moaned aloud, but managed to turn it into a soft humming sound instead, then into a lilting lullaby—one she remembered her own mother singing when her younger sister, Serena, was a baby. She felt her eyes fluttering as she hummed. Her jet lag was catching up with her. She jerked herself awake as her head nodded forward—unwittingly jerking the baby at the same time.
With a snort of protest, Emma snatched her mouth away from the bottle and began to wave her arms about, her big dark eyes wide and anxious now, as if she were about to cry.
‘Getting tired of the baby already, Roxy?’ Cam murmured. He was on his feet, plucking the fretful baby from her arms.
‘Hi, princess, what’s up?’ He had a small rubber dog in his hand, Roxy noticed, which he squeezed, making it squeak. Emma smiled and grabbed at it. ‘That’s better. Well…I guess you’ve had enough milk. Like a play now?’ Lowering the baby onto a colourful blanket on the floor, among her scattered toys, Cam glanced up at an indignant Roxy.
‘Taking care of a baby requires a lot of time and tience—and stamina,’ he drawled, obviously referring to the way she’d almost nodded off. ‘It isn’t as exciting as finding an ancient tomb or digging up old bones,’ he pointed out dryly. ‘It’s a relentless routine of feeds, bathing, changing nappies—including smelly, dirty ones—and keeping the baby amused and safe when she’s awake.’
Roxy found her voice, if shakily. ‘I’ve just f-flown back from America. It was a long flight and I was so worried about Emma I—I barely slept on the plane!’ She was trembling. Even her bottom lip was trembling. She realised she was dangerously close to bursting into tears again. Hysterical tears this time.
Cam would just love that, she thought, pulling herself together with an effort. Hysterical women didn’t make capable, calm mothers, he’d be thinking to himself. And he’d be right
‘Maybe you’d better go to bed and sleep it off,’ Cam suggested in a marginally gentler tone. ‘I can take care of Emma. I’ll put her in her stroller and take her for a walk along the cliffs. She loves that. Don’t worry about your dinner. I’ll leave it for you and you can heat it up in the microwave when you wake up.’
Roxy bit down on her lip, her nerve ends bristling a warning. He was letting her know that she wasn’t needed. I can take care of Emma.
‘They say it’s better for your body clock if you keep going until your normal bedtime,’ she asserted, drawing herself up and arching her back. ‘It was just sitting here for so long that made me drowsy. I’m fine now. Maybe we could have our dinner early?’ she suggested in the same breath. ‘I’ll go to bed straight after that.’ Then she wouldn’t have to spend the evening alone with Cam. She just didn’t feel up to it.
‘Whatever you say. You’re the guest’.
Just a guest, he might as well have said. She compressed her lips. He obviously didn’t expect her to stay at Raeburns’ Nest for long…didn’t believe that she was serious about giving up her field work to take care of her baby niece. Well, he’d soon find out how wrong he was.
She dropped to her knees beside the baby, who was happily chewing on her rubber dog. ‘I’ll play with Emma,’ she offered, ‘while you go and have a shave or something.’ It was a gentle reminder that Cam could do with a helping hand himself.
He paused for a moment, then said, ‘Right. I will. If Emma kicks up a fuss when I leave the room, you could try taking her for a walk in the garden. That usually works. If it doesn’t, you know where to find me. My room’s the one next to the nursery—on this side.’
He turned away, thankfully, before he could see the flush that rose to her cheeks. She had no wish to be reminded where his bedroom was!
She slept for twelve solid hours that night, not waking until nine the next morning. She had to force her eyes open against the sunlight streaming into her room. When she squinted at her watch and saw the time she groaned aloud. Cam must have been up for hours already, probably since five this morning, dealing with the baby on his own.
What would he think of her for sleeping in so late? That she didn’t care about Emma after all?
She scrambled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. She didn’t waste time showering, simply splashing her face with water to wake herself up, then dragging on jeans and a T-shirt. She didn’t even brush her hair. Not that her short jagged hairstyle looked much different when she did.
She found Cam in the kitchen feeding the baby from a Peter Rabbit bowl. For a second she paused at the doorway, entranced by the sight of this big, tall, very masculine man bending over a baby’s highchair, patiently spooning cereal into his niece’s open mouth. He was chatting away all the while, giving words of encouragement one second, glowing praise the next, and cracking the odd corny joke—for all the world like any proud real father.
She felt an emotional lump swell in her throat. Cam’s brother Hamish had been a wonderful father. Now she could see that Cam would make a great father, too.
Would she make as good a mother? She sighed, chewing on her lip. She wouldn’t have a home like this to offer Emma, for a start. Or buckets of money, like Cam, for clothes, food, creche fees, schooling… ‘Ah, good morning.’ As if sensing her presence, Cam glanced round. ‘Come in, Roxy, Emma’s just finished. Scraped the bowl clean.’ He wiped the baby’s face clean with a damp cloth. ‘Well done, princess!’ Little Emma beamed.
Roxy stepped forward, relieved that he’d made no caustic comment about her late appearance. Because he hadn’t remarked on it, she did. ‘Sorry I slept in—’ she began.
He waved a hand. ‘I’m glad you did. You’re looking much better. You were out on your feet last night.’
‘I know. Sorry, I wasn’t much company.’ She’d almost fallen asleep at the dining-room table, over his excellent dinner, which he’d served up as soon as they’d put the baby down for the night—with her tiny arms curled around her new teddy bear.
Roxy could barely even remember what they’d talked about over the meal. Nothing controversial…she would have remembered that. They’d talked a little about Hamish and Serena, she recalled with a tremor, and they’d talked about Emma and her cute habits and mannerisms, and how she learned to do something new each day. After dinner Cam had refused her offer of help in the kitchen, pointing to the automatic dishwasher, and she’d excused herself and stumbled off to bed.
‘You were just fine,’ Cam said lightly, turning back to the baby before she could read what was in his eyes. ‘I slept in, too,’ he admitted over his shoulder. ‘Emma didn’t wake until seven this morning, believe it or not. I actually had time for a shower and shave before she woke up.’
Roxy swallowed. She’d noticed. Not only was he clean-shaven, well scrubbed and smooth-haired, but he was neatly dressed in a maroon polo shirt, light-coloured pants, and smart casual shoes. Was it in her honour? she wondered dubiously. Or was he planning to go out—leaving her to care for the baby? To test her dedication, perhaps? To see if she’d be more than ready to hand the baby back after a few hours alone with her?
She soon found out. Later in the morning while the baby was taking a nap and she was hanging out some washing that she’d insisted on doing for Cam, she heard the front doorbell ring. When she came back into the kitchen she heard. voices coming from the family room. Not wanting to intrude, she slipped into the passage leading to the guest wing, deciding to take a shower and do some tidying up while she waited for Emma to wake up.
A woman’s voice wafted through the open door of the family room. ‘Let’s slip out to a restaurant for lunch, Cam, while you have the chance. This relative of yours can mind the baby for a few hours, surely?’
Roxy’s steps faltered. The woman’s voice was young and sultry, with a familiar, possessive ring. Was this Cam’s future bride?
She spun round. Why was she running away? Why not face the woman, and see what kind of mother Cam intended to inflict on her poor little niece? The sexy-voiced siren sounded more interested in having Cam take her out to Sunday lunch than in spending time with baby Emma. Roxy’s blood boiled.
She marched back to the family room. The open door revealed Cam and his female guest sitting side by side on the sofa. The woman, in a tight black dress that showed off her very noticeable curves, was swaying towards Cam, her glossy red lips pouting in invitation, her long dark hair cascading over her slender shoulders…and over Cam’s left arm.
Another ravishing brunette! Roxy’s blue eyes glinted. Was there no end to Cam’s procession of flashy brunettes? Or was this one the last of a long line? The chosen one?
Her thoughts grew blacker than ever.
Cam, she noticed as he glanced up, had some papers on his lap. She felt her heart constrict. Were he and his dark-eyed bimbo in the process of applying for a marriage license? Were these the papers they had to sign?
‘Ah, Roxy…come in.’ Cam swept the papers aside and jumped up. ‘My secretary has just popped in with some documents for me to go through. Since I’ve had Emma to look after, I’ve been doing quite a bit of work at home,’ he explained, to her secret relief. ‘I wanted to give my niece a chance to get used to having me around all the time.’
All the time… Roxy met the challenge in his eyes. He was reminding her that he intended to keep his niece. I intend to get married as soon as I can, he’d told her.
Her eyes strayed to the shapely brunette, who was rising with feline grace from the sofa. His secretary, he’d said. How convenient for him, she thought, hiding a wave of cynicism behind cool blue eyes.
‘Mirella…’ Cam turned back to the brunette with a smile that made Roxy reflect bitterly, Why can’t he smile at me like that? Like he did…once, long ago? ‘This is Emma’s aunt…Roxy Warren. Roxy’s just come back from America…and before that she was at a dig in northern Mexico. She’s an archeologist.’
Not, Roxy noted sourly, ‘She was an archeologist.’ Cam still refused to believe that she was serious about giving up her overseas field trips.
‘Roxy…’ He turned back to her, catching her eye before she had time to hide the hostility in hers. ‘This is Mirella Brazzi, who works for me at the Wollongong plant. She—’ He stopped, his head swinging round. ‘Ah! The baby’s awake. Mirella, would you mind if—’
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Elizabeth Duke
A wedding for baby's sake…Roxy Warren was abroad when her baby niece was tragically orphaned. Little Emma is now in the custody of her uncle, Cam Raeburn. Roxy is furious! Cam is a playboy and knows nothing about babies!When Roxy arrives to stand in as Emma's mum, she can't forget the steamy kiss she and Cam once shared. He's still as gorgeous as ever but they both want custody. Cam has a solution–marriage! He gives Roxy a month to make up her mind–a month in which to prove they can be real parents to Emma–otherwise the custody battle begins!
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u80a7af39-96df-5d42-a657-f1e10d41b329)
About the Author (#u65863d63-4b35-5a4a-8e30-f1f80093d0fd)
Title Page (#u8e9aa25c-f0d4-5af4-8fbe-30d990538984)
Chapter One (#u7dd720be-7e94-5e81-9344-9f3de1552182)
Chapter Two (#u3ab453c4-4a3f-5d9d-b150-a52fbab51d4e)
Chapter Three (#ufd786d24-3d34-5762-8e8a-e6ab4df12bb7)
Chapter Four (#u7f055d32-b3d1-5662-89d0-34d6426ad792)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ELIZABETH DUKE was born in Adelaide, South Australia, but has lived in Melbourne all her married life. She trained as a librarian and has worked in many different types of libraries, but she was always secretly writing. Her first published book was a children’s novel, after which she successfully tried her hand at romance writing. She has since given up her work as a librarian to write romance full-time. When she isn’t writing or reading, she loves to travel with her husband, John, either within Australia or overseas, gathering inspiration and background material for future romances. She and John have a son and daughter, who are both married and have children of their own.
The Parent Test
Elizabeth Duke
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c06a590b-61b5-5adc-b11e-e80225091996)
ROXY’S nerves were strung tight by the time her plane touched down in Sydney after the long flight from Los Angeles. Her emotions were swinging from joyful anticipation at the thought of seeing her baby niece again, for only the second time, to a shivery dread at the prospect of coming face to face again with Cam Raeburn, the man she was prepared to fight for custody of her niece.
Nobody was at the airport to meet her, which didn’t surprise her. Nobody but her father knew that she was arriving back in Australia today, and he was living in Western Australia now, with Roxy’s stepmother Blanche. Crabby old Blanche had wanted to live near her own daughter’s family, as far away from her husband’s family as possible.
And now that Roxy’s sister Serena and brother-in-law Hamish had tragically gone, Blanche was doing her best to sever all ties with her remaining stepdaughter—and the orphaned baby girl Hamish and Serena had left behind.
‘No, of course the baby’s not with us!’ Blanche had squawked when Roxy had called from northern Mexico after hearing the shocking news of the tragic boating accident. ‘How could I take care of a baby with my arthritis? And your father has a bad heart, remember? Don’t worry, the child’s in good hands. Hamish’s brother, Cam Raeburn, is looking after her.’
Roxy wouldn’t have wanted Blanche taking care of her baby niece anyway, even temporarily. Even Cam Raeburn was preferable to Blanche. As the baby’s uncle and godfather, Cam should at least have his niece’s best interests at heart
Roxy humphed as she hailed a cab to her Sydney flat. Best interests or not, she had to make Cam see that she was the best one to take care of their niece from now on. She was Serena’s sister—the baby’s aunt—while he was a single man…a divorcee…a womanising bachelor who surely wouldn’t want to be lumbered with a baby indefinitely.
With a bit of luck the novelty of looking after his seven-month-old niece was already wearing off.
She hoped so—fervently. It would make things so much easier and less traumatic for the baby if he would simply hand their niece over. Once she had little Emma safely back here in Sydney, she would apply for formal custody.
It didn’t take long to reach her two-bedroomed flat in suburban Coogee—the flat where she’d be bringing baby Emma soon, hopefully. As she carried her bags into her bedroom Roxy caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.
She looked a fright. She couldn’t let Cam see her like this!
Her cotton top was like a crumpled rag. Her old faded jeans had stains from the coffee she’d spilt on the plane. And her short-cropped hair, normally sun-bleached and glowing with natural golden highlights, looked dull and drab and even more of a mess than usual.
She always wore her hair short, in a naturally tousled style—with her fine-boned face and slight build it suited her best that way and was easier to manage. But her new choppy hairstyle had short jagged bits sticking out all over. The nursing aide who’d cut it for her at the hospital in Los Angeles had called it a ‘dishevelled bob’, supposedly the latest trend in L.A. salons.
As her gaze settled on her drawn face, Roxy sighed. Normally tanned and healthy, she looked thin and pale after her three-week stay in hospital, and the long flight had left her blue eyes darkly shadowed and lacking their usual lustre.
She fingered her bottom lip tentatively. At least the surgery on her mouth had had time to heal…thanks to that ghastly virus which had kept her in hospital for an additional two long weeks. In fact, the extra time in hospital had been a blessing in another way too. It had given her time to mourn Serena and Ham-ish…time to recover from her grief and shock before coming home to face further trauma in the shape of Cam Raeburn.
Before taking a quick shower and changing into a fresh shirt and jeans, she called her father to let him know she was back and that she was planning to head down the coast to Raeburns’ Nest to claim her niece.
‘I’m home to take care of Emma now,’ she told him firmly.
‘Oh, Roxy, love, how can you look after a baby?’ Her father sounded frailer each time she talked to him. Part sorrow at losing a daughter, and part Blanche, Roxy thought with a grimace. Her stepmother would wear anyone out.
‘She’ll be better off with me than with Cam Raeburn,’ she insisted.
‘But you’re always away in some far-flung country, love. Emma would be stuck alone in your flat for months at a time and it would cost you a fortune in baby-sitters. How could you afford it? At least with Cam Raeburn caring for her, Emma will have an uncle and a live-in nanny with her all the time. And with his wealth, Cam can afford a daily housekeeper and every possible luxury.’
A live-in nanny…a daily housekeeper…every possible luxury. Roxy’s heart dipped.
‘And now that Cam owns Raeburns’ Nest,’ her father ploughed on, ‘he’s able to keep Emma in her own home, in familiar surroundings. With a rich uncle like Cam Raeburn, love, the baby won’t want for anything.’
Roxy pulled a face. ‘Anything but a mother.’
‘Roxy, love, with your field trips…’
‘I’ll give up my field work! I’ll try to get extra teaching hours at Uni. They have a creche there now.’ But the long summer break had just started at Uni and lectures didn’t resume until next March—four months away. ‘I’ll manage,’ she asserted, but her voice wavered. Whether she gave up her field work to stay at home all the time or not, how could she compete with what Cam Raeburn had to offer Emma?
‘You’d better have it out with Cam.’ Her father sighed. ‘I don’t think he’ll be prepared to give her up.’
‘Once he knows that I’m back and that I’m prepared to—’
‘He’s planning to get married again, love. He told me when I called him the other day to ask after Emma. He wants to give the baby a proper family again, he said, like she had with Hamish and Serena.’
Shock jolted Roxy into silence for several long seconds. Getting married again? Cam Raeburn?
‘He wants to marry one of his flashy bimbo brunettes?’ she finally bit out. She felt a trembling, irrational surge of fury. ‘I’ll fight him in the courts first!’
Her father gave a brief, sympathetic laugh. ‘A single, penniless female, fighting a rich industrial chemist with a highly profitable business and powerful connections? And a married man?’
‘He’s not married yet! And if I have anything to do with it, I’ll have poor little Emma out of his clutches before he is! Serena wanted me to have Emma,’ Roxy burst out. ‘She told me once that if anything ever happened to them, she wanted me to bring up their daughter!’
‘Serena—um—didn’t mention custody in her will, love…unfortunately. Look…you’d better take that up with Cam as well.’
‘Oh, I will, don’t worry.’ Her voice trembled. She’d have a lot of things to take up with Cam Raeburn when she saw him. But first she had to find out more about this woman he was planning to marry. As a married man—as a wealthy husband with a wife—he’d hold every trump card. She’d have no hope in the world of fighting him and winning.
Had he actually proposed yet? Or was he just thinking about it?
A bitter memory stirred, and she shivered. The night of her sister’s wedding…Cam Raeburn, leading her into that secluded moonlit garden…the deceptive magic in the air… She swallowed hard, remembering the way he’d kissed her, soaring her to heights she’d never known…the way he’d looked at her, gazing deep into her eyes…the way he’d murmured, in that deep rumbling voice of his, Things can happen when you least expect them to.
How prophetic his words had been! When she’d least expected it, the magic spell he’d been weaving had cruelly shattered. The moment Cam had found out that she wasn’t just a history lecturer, but also an archeologist who spent half her year out of Australia, scrabbling around in the dirt at remote digs, he’d lost interest in her. Worse, he’d dumped her for someone else. A stunning dark-eyed brunette.
Hurt, humiliated and angry, she’d been trying to avoid him ever since. They’d only come face to face once in the past year and a half…unavoidably, at baby Emma’s christening five months ago, when their niece was just two months old. In typical fashion, Cam had flaunted another raven-haired beauty in her face—a clone of the one at her sister’s wedding.
She hadn’t been back home since—until now.
Who was this girl Cam was planning to marry?
Had Cam Raeburn finally found a leggy, dark-eyed brunette who was willing to look after a home and a baby? Was he so determined to give his niece a secure, stable family life again that he’d decided to marry his niece’s nanny?
No! Roxy thought violently, her face heating. Serena’s baby is not going to be brought up by a roving-eyed uncle and some flashy bimbo who doesn’t genuinely care about her. Emma is my responsibility.
She drew in her lips, her eyes narrowing as she asked her father caustically, ‘Emma’s live-in nanny wouldn’t happen to be a young, stunning-looking brunette, by any chance?’
‘Young? A brunette? Mary?’ Her father gave a confused laugh. ‘No, love, Mary’s a widowed grandmother—a former mothercraft nurse. She used to mind the baby for Serena and Hamish when they wanted an evening out or at weekends when they went sai—’ He stopped, choking on the word ‘sailing’.
Roxy swiftly changed tack. ‘Well, I’m sure Cam won’t want to be left holding the baby for too long.’ It would cramp his style too much. ‘Not that he’ll need to, now that I’m home.’ Her spirits had lifted a little. At least it wasn’t the live-in nanny.
‘Roxy…’ It was Blanche’s voice on the phone now, sharp and impatient as always. ‘You’re tiring your father. It’s time for his rest’
‘I have to go anyway. Tell Dad to take care.’ Roxy hung up and started dialling the number of Raeburns’ Nest.
She was familiar with the number because Hamish and Serena had lived there during their idyllic, far-too-short marriage. Now Cam, it seemed, had moved back into his old family home. It belonged to him now.
She’d only spoken to Cam once since the tragedy six weeks ago, when she’d called him from northern Mexico after speaking to her father—and only after learning that Cam had temporary custody of the baby.
The line had been shocking, full of static, and she’d had to shout. ‘Cam? It’s Roxy Warren.’
‘Well…Roxy.’ She’d felt the chill in his voice even over that very noisy, distorted line. ‘You couldn’t even come home for your sister’s funeral. We thought a week’s notice would have been ample, even for you.’
A burst of ear-splitting static had muffled her indignant reply: ‘I’ve only just heard. I’ve been camping out in northern Mexico for the past—’
But Cam was speaking over her, his words cracking like gunfire down the fast-disintegrating line. ‘Your father could have done with your support at the funeral. Blanche was no—’ He swore, and gave up. ‘Look, this line’s impossible. Hang up and call your father. He’ll be back in Perth by now.’
‘I’ve already—’ But the line had gone dead.
Even now, anger surged inside her at the memory. She could have done with a little sympathy, not a barrage of unfair criticism. She hadn’t even had a chance to ask after her niece, let alone let Cam know that she was on her way home to take care of the baby.
Her unlucky accident on arriving in Los Angeles the next day—and the bug that had hit her days later in the hospital—had prevented her from making any more calls. She’d managed to send word to her father, via one of the nurses, and had eventually spoken to him herself before leaving the hospital.
But she’d made no attempt to call Cam Raeburn again until now. She hadn’t wanted to warn him that she was about to leave hospital and come home. She didn’t trust him.
She had good reason not to trust him.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_17febfe3-5921-51d8-9408-0e0c130f889b)
HER hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, waiting for an answer.
‘Cam Raeburn.’
Her stomach knotted. ‘Hullo, Cam, it’s Roxy. I’m back and I’d like to come down to Raeburns’ Nest to see Emma,’ she said breathlessly, before he had a chance to cut in.
She didn’t like the pause that followed. ‘By all means,’ he agreed finally. ‘Why don’t you pack an overnight bag and stay for the weekend? If you can spare a whole weekend with your niece.’
She gritted her teeth, even as her heart jumped in panic at the thought of staying under the same roof as Cam Raeburn for a whole weekend. ‘I have all the time in the world,’ she assured him loftily. ‘My niece is my top priority from now on.’
And I’ll stay at Raeburns’ Nest for as long as it takes to convince you of that, she added under her breath. If she hoped to convince him that she was the best person to look after Emma, she would have to use the utmost care and tact…and be prepared to stay for however long it took.
‘Is it all right if I come now? This afternoon?’ she asked in a less confrontational tone. Sleeping off her jet lag would have to wait.
‘We’ll be here. You can remember where to come?’
She scowled at the implication that she’d seldom been home to visit her family. ‘I’ll find it,’ she ground out. She’d only been to Raeburns’ Nest once before…on the day of Emma’s christening five months ago, on her last visit home. Serena and Hamish had invited everyone back to their home after the simple ceremony at their local church.
As she showered and changed, Roxy brooded on the unwanted encounter.
There’d been no avoiding Cam in the tiny coastal church. As godmother and godfather to baby Emma, they’d had to stand side by side at the font.
Cam hadn’t changed a bit in the twelve months that had passed since Serena’s wedding. Still as good-looking as ever, as sexy as ever. The same tall, athletic build…the same amazing shoulders…the same shiny dark hair…the same glittering black eyes…but the softness she’d once seen in them had gone.
He’d been the first to break the ice. Every painful word, every charged look, was etched in her memory.
‘Back for long this time, Roxy?’
She bristled at his tone, at the cynically raised eyebrow. A year might have passed, but obviously nothing had changed. She’d thought for a fleeting second, as their eyes briefly met, that a spark had leapt to life in the lethal black depths, but it was gone in a flash.
His normal reaction to a woman—any woman, no doubt—until he’d remembered who she was. A footloose, scruffy-haired history freak who liked fossicking in the heat and dust in remote corners of the world, unearthing ancient civilisations.
‘I’ll be going away again sooner than I expected,’ she hissed back at him, tossing her head to show him she couldn’t wait to go—while wishing at the same time that she’d worn something a little more sophisticated to her niece’s christening than a long-sleeved granny dress, straw hat and flat-heeled shoes.
‘There’s been an exciting new find in the far north of Mexico,’ she crisply informed him, ‘and I’ve been invited to join the team there. I’m leaving next week.’
Despite the coolness between them, her body was reacting to his nearness, her nerve-ends quivering, her skin heating. It was his fault she’d decided to go away again so soon, his fault she’d extended her field trips since her sister’s wedding. If Cam’s passionate kisses had genuinely meant something…if he’d asked her to stay…if he’d wanted her to stay… But he hadn’t. He’d preferred the dark-eyed brunette.
He’d even brought another flashing-eyed bimbo to his niece’s christening!
‘Roxy…I don’t believe you’ve met Belinda.’ Cam’s eyes hadn’t even flickered as he’d introduced her to his latest dark-eyed stunner. ‘Belinda’s a member of my tennis club, back in Sydney.’
I bet you’ve done more than played tennis together, Roxy had thought nastily, noting the woman’s luscious red lips and provocative smile. A real femme fatale. Just Cam’s type.
The type who would never have dirty fingernails or a hair out of place.
She sighed. Tousle-haired, blue-eyed blondes with an odd dress sense and a craze for ancient civilizations were obviously not Cam’s type.
Roxy dismissed the galling memory, sighing heavily as she threw clothes into a bag—enough for a week or longer—then jumped into her car for the two-hour drive south. She wondered if the dark-eyed Belinda was still around. Or was there yet another ravishing brunette? Ravishing enough for Cam to want to marry?
It was a slow trip out of the city, and there was heavy traffic on the freeway south. After a trying hour and a half, she caught a glimpse of the coast, and the sprawling industrial city of Wollongong, where Cam’s flourishing chemical and fibremaking plant was, as well as his head office and a company house where he could stay if he wished. She knew that he also had a marketing office in Sydney—and a city penthouse.
She blew out a sigh. How could she compete with all that?
After another half an hour she saw the long sweep of the coast again, and the popular coastal township of Kiama, where her brother-in-law, Hamish, had co-owned a pharmacy.
Roxy gulped down a lump in her throat, still finding it hard to believe that Hamish and Serena had gone. They’d been so perfect for each other, so happy together. They’d shared everything. Even—tragically—a love of sailing.
Blinking away a blur of tears, she turned her thoughts to their baby daughter, wondering how her niece was getting on with Cam Raeburn—a very different type of man from the baby’s gentle, home-loving father, Hamish. Emma had been with Cam for six weeks now. Had they bonded in that time? Would the baby be upset, all over again, if she took her away from him?
Raeburns’ Nest was a few kilometers further down the coast, perched high on the rich green cliffs overlooking the ocean. Hamish and Cam had jointly inherited the family home on the death of their widowed father. The two brothers had shared the house until Cam married his wife, Kimberley, and built a new home in the lush Kangaroo Valley nearby—a house he’d sold after his divorce, moving back into his Sydney apartment and his company house at Wollongong. Hamish had stayed on at Raeburns’ Nest, bringing his beloved bride, Serena, to live there with him after their whirlwind two-month courtship.
Roxy’s hands began to tremble as the house came into view. Set in a couple of acres of natural bush, the big old sandstone house looked even more comfortably imposing then the last time she’d seen it, now that the new guest wing, which Hamish had been building on at the time, was complete. As she swung her baby Mazda into the gravel drive alongside the house, she caught a glimpse of the tree-lined tennis court and fenced in-ground swimming pool to the rear of the house, framed by trees, lawn and thick bush.
An ideal home for bringing up a family, she mused with a sigh, her spirits nosediving. How could her two-bedroomed city flat compete with a home like this? With luxury like this?
Dragging her bag from the rear seat, and the giant teddy bear she’d bought for the baby at L.A. airport, she followed a brick-paved path to the side door, avoiding the formal front entrance overlooking the cliffs.
She expected to see Cam’s housekeeper appear when she knocked, or even Mary, the nanny, but it was Cam himself who opened the door.
For a stunned second she stood staring at him, unable to speak. He looked so vastly different from her remembered image of him. On the only two occasions she’d met him before he’d been dressed to the nines—in formal black tie at Serena’s wedding, and twelve months later, at Emma’s christening, in a stylish grey suit, neat white shirt and red silk tie.
On both occasions his thick dark hair had been neatly slicked back and shiny clean, his handsome, strong-jawed face clean-shaven, his powerful shoulders enhanced by the superb cut of his jacket.
Today he was wearing frayed denim shorts and a faded T-shirt with food stains down the front. His strong face was shadowed with overnight growth, his thick hair uncombed, looking as if he’d just climbed out of bed, and his long tanned feet were bare, with an orange splotch on one of them.
She felt almost overdressed, for once, in her washed-out blue jeans, long-sleeved white shirt, loosely knotted at the waist, and well-worn sneakers.
Yet—she swallowed hard—his appearance didn’t repel her, as it should have. He looked incredibly, heart-stoppingly sexy.
As if realising he was under scrutiny, Cam’s mouth curved in a face-crinkling smile that was part mocking, part rueful.
‘I haven’t had time to shave yet, though I did manage a quick shower, after the baby threw up all over me. Lunchtime was interesting too…’ He brushed a hand over his stained T-shirt. ‘This was a clean shirt until Emma made it clear she doesn’t like mashed pumpkin. I’m on my own this weekend,’ he explained. ‘I gave Mary the weekend off to visit her family, and Philomena doesn’t come at weekends.’
Philomena, Roxy assumed, was his housekeeper. Since she wasn’t around at weekends, she was unlikely to be one of his bimbos!
‘You’re finding our niece a handful?’ she asked hopefully. If he was complaining already, it shouldn’t be too difficult to persuade him to hand Emma over.
‘Even the best mothers find babies a handful at times,’ he said dryly. ‘Come in, Roxy, I’ll show you to your room. You can see Emma later. She’s asleep at the moment and I don’t believe in waking a sleeping baby unnecessarily.’
Roxy bit her tongue, tempted as she was to protest at the implication that she was unnecessary. He was quite right not to wake the baby. Even if his motive might be suspect.
As he closed the door behind her he studied her face for a disconcerting few seconds. She sucked in a breath as strong warm fingers closed round her chin, tilting her face upward.
‘Well…they certainly did a good job.’ His tone was faintly caustic. Not a hint of sympathy. He drew back, letting her go as if the very touch of her repulsed him. ‘Though why in hell’s name you’d want to have cosmetic surgery in the first place, let alone now, when you could have been here at home comforting your father or your sister’s baby…well, it leaves me baffled. And disgusted, frankly.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You think—’
‘Well, okay…so you were already in hospital with some virus—fair enough—but don’t deny you used the opportunity to have a little nip and a tuck while you were recuperating in that L.A. hospital.’
Roxy’s chest heaved, her breath coming in furious gulps. ‘Who—told—you—that?’ she managed to gasp out.
‘Your father told me…no, Blanche. Blanche, cutting in on poor old George, as usual.’ The corner of his lip quirked. He shared her opinion of Blanche. The only thing they did share, though she’d hoped at one time—a fleeting, futile hope—that they might one day share other things, too.
‘She told me, quite clearly, that you were having cosmetic surgery on your face,’ Cam said flatly.
Jealous, bitchy Blanche…Roxy’s hands balled into fists. ‘I didn’t have cosmetic surgery,’ she ground out. ‘I had microsurgery. To repair a wound. Trust Blanche to get it wrong.’ Deliberately, if she knew Blanche.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Microsurgery? A wound? Where?’ Again she had to suffer his scrutiny, his gaze searing into her already flushed skin.
She swallowed. ‘On my mouth. My lower lip. I tripped over a street kerb as I jumped out of a car in L.A. to rush into a shop. I crashed headfirst onto a concrete plant pot’
‘You were gallivanting around LA, shopping, after hearing the news of your sister’s death?’ Cam shook his head, cold contempt in his eyes. ‘Your father sent you an urgent fax six weeks ago, while you were still in northern Mexico. You sure were in no hurry to come home!’
She glared at him. ‘I didn’t get Dad’s tax until three weeks after he sent it! I was at a campsite in a remote part of northern Mexico at the time. Deliveries aren’t exactly reliable in that part of the world. By then the funeral had already been held.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘I was devastated at missing it.’
As she gulped in a breath, Cam eyed her skeptically. ‘But having missed it, you decided there was no rush.’ His tone was scathing, his unfair condemnation cutting into her like a knife.
‘I was rushing—that was the whole trouble! One of our team—an American—offered to drive me across the border to L.A. airport. We were on our way there when the accident happened. I’d leapt out on the way to buy a toy for Emma.’
As Cam’s gaze flickered to the giant teddy in her arms she shook her head. ‘I bought this yesterday—at L.A. airport. After my stupid fall, I ended up in hospital, having surgery—microsurgery—on a badly cut lip. And a couple of days later I was hit by a mysterious bug I must have picked up in Mexico.’
As she paused for breath she noted shakily that Cam’s eyes had lost some of their icy scorn. But not much. The very fact that she’d been away for so long—out of reach for so long—obviously weighed against her.
‘And it was bad enough to keep you in hospital for another three weeks?’
‘Yes!’ Indignation flashed in her eyes. ‘It completely knocked me out. I had a raging fever…I was delirious for days…and weak as a kitten for days after that. And because of the surgery on my lip, I couldn’t even talk to begin with!’
‘Well…your surgeons should be commended.’ She felt his dark gaze on her mouth. ‘There’s not a trace of any scarring. Or bruising. You’d never know you’d had anything done.’
She frowned. Did he still not believe her?
‘They did the repair from inside my mouth—that’s why there’s no visible scarring. And the swelling and bruising have had time to heal, thanks to that horrific virus. My mouth feels fine. Perfect. I feel fine.’ She didn’t want him to think she was still weak, and perhaps unable to take care of her niece.
‘You still look pale…and very thin…but if you’re feeling fine again, that’s splendid’ Taking her bag, he turned on his heel, freeing her at last of his burning gaze. ‘Come on, Roxy…let’s get you settled in.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_067f5b69-2101-5804-95a4-049ddd12d1f2)
CAM didn’t speak as he led her along the main passage to the guest wing. Perhaps, Roxy thought, giving him the benefit of the doubt, he didn’t want to risk waking the baby.
Seeing him from behind reminded her—a bittersweet reminder—of the first time she’d ever set eyes on him, as he’d stood at the altar alongside his brother, waiting for Serena and her bridesmaid to join them. Roxy had been the bridesmaid and Cam the best man.
Only their backs had been visible. Cam, the elder brother, was half a head taller than the bridegroom, with shoulders that were considerably wider than those of his equally well-built brother. His glossy dark hair contrasted starkly with Hamish’s wiry, gingery mop. At the sight of Hamish’s brother, who was to be her partner for the evening, she’d almost overbalanced halfway down the aisle. Her feet, unused to high heels, had rolled over slightly on her long spiky heels.
She’d tried to avoid looking at him after that, but annoyingly, his image had remained. She’d taken a few deep breaths, wondering how she could be so aware of a man after a single, fleeting glance from behind. Normally she had nothing but scorn for roving-eyed, love-’em-and-leave-’em types—the type Cam was rumoured to be.
No woman, Hamish had liked to joke, was safe around Cam. No woman could resist him.
No woman? Roxy had stirred at the challenge.
Cam Raeburn, she’d naively thought at the time, would need more than a pair of powerful shoulders and a head of glossy black hair to hold her interest for more than two minutes!
Ha! She’d been like a lamb to the slaughter!
She hadn’t come directly face to face with him until they’d moved into the vestry after the ceremony to sign the register.
‘Well, I must say you’re a surprise, Roxy.’ Cam’s warm honeyed tones and disarming half smile had threatened to melt her where she stood…until his words had sunk in and her nerve-ends had sprung to full alert.
A surprise? A disappointment, more like! No doubt he’d expected a tall, dark-eyed beauty like Serena. Unless Hamish had warned him that she was the pint-sized, tomboyish, unglamorous sister—and here she was, looking glamorous for once, in a shimmering cornflower blue gown, the colour of her eyes.
She’d gazed up at him coolly, only to feel her eyes waver under the impact of his. His eyes, even darker than her dark-eyed sister’s, were like shining black opals, filled with fire and light. She’d had to moisten her lips before she could take in the rest of him—the heavy dark brows, the straight nose, the sexy cleft in his chin, the square jaw.
Finally she’d found her voice, tilting her chin to inquire sweetly, ‘You were expecting a scruffy little ragamuffin with dirty fingernails and scuffed shoes?’
The half smile had become a real one, a heart-stopping smile of pure charm. She’d wobbled on her high heels.
‘On the contrary, Roxy…I was merely expecting someone older—you are the older sister, aren’t you? Having heard only moments ago how brilliantly clever you are—teaching ancient history at University—I expected, at the very least, to see you wearing blue stockings and bifocals, with your hair tied back in a bun.’
She’d had to smile. He wouldn’t be the first man to expect her to look like a fusty academic-simply because she was a qualified archeologist and a lecturer in ancient history. Only Cam hadn’t known then, of course, that she was a globetrotting archeologist as well as a history lecturer. Hamish hadn’t thought to mention it to him, which wasn’t surprising. She’d had no field trips in the past couple of months, and his brother, Cam, had only arrived home that morning from an eightweek overseas business trip.
‘The guest wing’s through here, Roxy.’
She jumped at the sound of Cam’s voice. As he turned to wave her in ahead of him, their eyes met. The impact of his dark gaze was as jolting as ever.
Still the same sexy, charismatic Cam, Roxy thought with a tremulous sigh. But he couldn’t affect her any more. She wasn’t the naive, trusting Roxy she’d been a year and a half ago.
Not that he’d notice or care. He’d made it clear on at least two previous occasions that he preferred leggy, dark-eyed brunettes to blue-eyed, mop-haired blondes with a tendency to trip over their own feet.
She stepped quickly past him. The guest wing was virtually a self-contained flat, with its own small kitchen, dining area, living room, double bedroom and spacious bathroom. It looked roomy and comfortable, with homey decorative touches that reminded Roxy of her sister. Serena had loved decorating.
‘The bed’s already made up,’ Cam told her as he followed her in.
Roxy, her nerves already taut, tensed further at the mention of ‘bed’. She wondered who the bed had been made up for. Was it always made up, ready for guests? Women guests? Or had Cam rushed in here after her phone-call and made it up specially for her?
Hugging the soft teddy bear, she asked, ‘Where’s the baby’s room from here? I’d like to be near my niece.’
Cam gave her a quick, speculative look, as if he wasn’t sure he believed her. ‘Mary’s taken over the room next door to the nursery. And the master bedroom, where I sleep, is on the other side of Emma’s room. Don’t worry, Roxy, I’ll get up to the baby if she wakes in the night. I normally do anyway.’
Roxy inhaled a carefully drawn breath. She didn’t want to start an argument at this point in time, but she had to ask. ‘How about moving my niece in here with me, just for the weekend?’ Or longer, she thought, if it takes longer. ‘It’ll be a way of getting to know each other. I’ll get up to her during the night if she cries. You can catch up on your sleep.’ Her gaze flicked to his face. ‘You look as if you need it’
‘Thanks, but it’s not necessary.’ You’re not necessary, he might as well have said. ‘I’m managing just fine. Emma already sleeps through the night. She has her last bottle around seven, then sleeps right through until five or six o’clock. She rarely wakes in the night’.
‘You don’t mind waking up at five to feed her?’ Roxy’s spirits were beginning to slide. He sounded as if he enjoyed looking after the baby.
But for how much longer would his enthusiasm last?
‘Not a bit…she’s already like a daughter to me,’ he said with a firmness that made her forget about being careful.
‘My sister wanted me to have custody of Emma if anything ever…ever…’ Her voice cracked and tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I—I still can’t believe…’ She gulped, a painful lump welling in her throat. Suddenly it was all too much. Grief, jet lag and a build-up of nervous tension swamped her. Burying her face in the teddy bear’s soft fur, she burst into tears.
‘Roxy…’ Cam’s arms were round her before she realised what was happening. She couldn’t find the strength to fight him as, cradling her in the curve of his shoulder, he gently plucked the teddy bear from her and dropped it onto the bed. She let her head fall onto his chest, helpless tears pouring down her cheeks, splashing onto his shirt.
‘It’s okay, Roxy…’ His low voice vibrated against the damp cheek pressed against his chest. He was stroking her hair with an amazingly gentle hand while he held her close to him with his other. The tender stroking felt so caring, so comforting that she couldn’t believe it was Cam Raeburn who was doing it. Weakened by his unexpected sympathy she began to sob in earnest, her breath coming in tremulous gulps, her shoulders heaving, her tearful face still pressed into his T-shirt, soaking the faded fabric.
Cam held her, rocking her as gently as one would rock a baby, until she’d cried out all her bottled-up pain and grief.
Finally she raised her face, furiously blinking away her tears. She didn’t want Cam thinking she was falling into a heap and couldn’t cope with Serena’s baby. ‘Sorry, Cam, I…it just caught up with me. Serena… Hamish… the long flight…the lack of sleep. I’m all right now. Truly.’
He drew back and looked down at her, as if to make sure. ‘No need to apologise.’ He was eyeing her strangely. His voice sounded a bit strange, too, not as cool or as smooth as before. ‘It’s healthy to cry…even if it—’ He clamped his mouth shut and stepped back, letting his hands fall away. His eyes were hidden from her now, and she could sense his withdrawal.
‘I’ll make you some coffee.’ His voice was brusque again, back to normal. ‘Come when you’re ready, Roxy. I’ll be in the kitchen. Just follow the passage.’
He left her to unpack and freshen up. When she joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, bringing the giant teddy bear with her, he was standing at an island bench, chopping vegetables.
‘Stir fry for dinner okay with you?’ he asked, waving her to a stool.
‘You cook, too?’ He was chopping with a practiced air, as if he’d done this chore many times before.
‘As a bachelor, you need to be able to cook if you don’t want to live on take-away or dine out every night. I’ve come to enjoy it, even though I have Philomena to cook for me these days, if I want her to. Do you cook, Roxy?’ He glanced up, and she caught the glimmer of doubt in his eyes.
‘Give me a camp fire and I’ll show you how well I cook,’ she answered flippantly, propping the teddy bear on the stool beside her. With a tilt of her small chin she added, ‘I might not have your undoubted finesse—I’m no cordon bleu cook—but at least I’ll never starve.’
His eyes narrowed under her feisty gaze, and she wished she hadn’t reminded him of her roving lifestyle.
‘Mind if we have our coffee here in the kitchen? I can go on with my chopping.’ As he poured coffee into two mugs, he asked, ‘Did your father give you the details of your sister’s will, Roxy?’
Roxy’s head jerked up. ‘What details?’ Custody of Emma, did he mean? According to her father, Serena had made no mention of custody in her will.
‘Serena left you a few personal items and some jewellery. I have them in the safe. The Sydney flat that your father bought for you and your sister when he sold your family home and moved to the west coast is now officially yours. It’s been virtually yours anyway, I understand, since Serena married Hamish.’
Roxy frowned into her coffee. Was he hoping she’d go back to her Sydney flat and stay there? Or thinking, maybe, that she didn’t deserve a city flat of her own, since she was so seldom at home?
‘What about…Serena’s clothes?’ she asked with difficulty, without looking at him. ‘Are they still here, waiting to be sorted through?’ If Cam was using the master bedroom, he must have either disposed of them or put them aside for her to deal with.
‘Blanche went through your sister’s things while she and your father were over here for the funeral,’ Cam told her, adding almost accusingly, ‘You weren’t here, Roxy. We hadn’t even heard from you.’ Then, on a softer note, ‘Blanche said that none of Serena’s things would fit you anyway—your sister being so much taller. She bundled everything up and sent it off to a charity.’
Roxy shrugged. No doubt Blanche had taken a few things for herself or her married daughter first. Not that she minded. It would be too painful to wear any of Serena’s clothes anyway. A piece of jewellery…a few personal items…simply as a memento…that was different.
‘Raeburns’ Nest now belongs to me.’ Cam paused to take a sip of his coffee. ‘Everything else—Hamish’s share in the pharmacy and any other money or valuables from their joint estate—will be put into trust for their daughter.’ He flicked her a look, as if waiting for comment.
Roxy took a deep breath and asked, ‘Did Hamish’s will mention custody of their daughter?’
As she glanced up, she caught a glint in Cam’s eye that filled her with foreboding. He told her, in a level, velvet-soft tone, ‘My brother named me as his daughter’s guardian. It was his express wish,’ he spelt out, ‘that I have custody of Emma.’
Roxy’s hand jerked, spilling her coffee. ‘My sister specifically asked me to take care of their daughter if anything ever happened to them!’
Cam’s brow shot up. ‘I’m sure Hamish wouldn’t have named me, Roxy, without Serena’s agreement. Your sister must have changed her mind. No doubt Hamish pointed out how impractical it would be to expect you—a devoted career woman who’s away from Australia for most of the year—to take care of a young child. He must have convinced her that I’d be the best one to have custody.’
Roxy sucked in an incensed breath. ‘My sister would never change her mind! Hamish must have meant that—that he would want you to take care of Emma temporarily…just until I could come back from wherever I was and take over! Or…or he wanted you to be her financial guardian. That’s more like it! Not her permanent, everyday guardian.’
‘I don’t think so.’
His calmness infuriated her even more. ‘I’ll fight you for custody!’ she threatened recklessly.
He laughed. ‘You can’t possibly want permanent custody, Roxy. You’re never at home. You’re always hightailing off to some remote archeological dig where you don’t even get vital mail when it’s sent to you. And when you do, you trip over things and catch foreign bugs that keep you away for weeks longer!’
She winced, and jutted her chin. ‘I’ll give up my field work. Naturally.’
He shook his head, his smile almost pitying. ‘Easy to say that, Roxy…but not so easy to mean it. Sorry, sweetheart, but my brother wanted me to have custody of our niece. Your sister gave no written instructions to suggest that she disagreed.’
‘Well, she’d hardly be expecting to die at the age of twenty-four!’ Roxy snapped back. She gulped down her fury, and after snatching in some breaths of air said more calmly, ‘Surely it’s better for a baby girl to be brought up by a woman—an aunt who can be a real mother figure to her—than a phil—’ She was about to say ‘philandering’, but had second thoughts about hurling insults at this delicate stage. ‘Than a bachelor uncle. You surely must know by now how a baby ties you down.’
Her arguments failed to move him. ‘A daughter should have a father and a mother, and I intend to give Emma both—as soon as I can arrange it.’
Roxy’s heart chilled. So her father was right. Cam was planning to get married again. She felt a sharp twinge. On Emma’s behalf, she told herself frac-tiously. Poor little soul, having one of Cam’s bimbos thrust onto her.
‘Belinda, do you mean?’ she asked before she could stop herself. She clamped her mouth shut. The thought of the dark-eyed, tennis-playing brunette married to Cam and helping to bring up her baby niece made her blood boil. Never, she thought. Never!
‘Belinda?’ Cass looked amused. ‘No, it won’t be Belinda. Belinda’s gone back to her exhusband. She’s living in Melbourne now.’
Roxy felt an irrational leap of relief, before her spirits plunged again. Gone back to her husband… If wives could go back to their husbands…
‘Is your ex-wife coming back to you?’ she blurted out.
Cam laughed. A harsh, scathing laugh, his mouth twisting. ‘Hardly. My wife is happily remarried, and has a new life far more suited to her than the life I offered her.’
The mocking black eyes turned cold and flat under her gaze. Roxy swallowed, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. Did that biting cynicism hide a deep hurt? She felt a wave of sympathy for him.
Until she remembered what was at stake. Her niece. She reached for her coffee, hardening her heart as she gulped it down.
She couldn’t afford any weakening towards Cam Raeburn. She had to remain strong enough to fight him.
In the swirling silence a baby began to cry.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_fb8bc2c8-66d6-586a-8a62-6ed6f673e575)
‘LET me go to her,’ Roxy offered, jumping up, her hand reaching for the big teddy bear.
But Cam was already on his feet. ‘Come with me, by all means, but I think Emma should see a familiar face first up.’
‘Oh. Yes…of course.’ Although Roxy could see the sense in that, she was only too aware that he was reminding her yet again that she was a virtual stranger to her niece. As she trailed after him to the nursery, she asked, ‘You’ve seen a lot of Emma since she was born?’ She was wondering how long Cam had been a familiar face to the baby. Only since his brother’s death?
‘Enough for her to recognise me with a big smile when I moved in here with her,’ he tossed back, and she drew in her lips. It was Cam’s fault she hadn’t seen more of her infant niece in the past seven months. She’d taken on longer field trips to avoid him.
Already she was regretting her long absences abroad. It would have been preferable to risk running into Cam occasionally than to become a virtual stranger to her baby niece.
What if little Emma wanted nothing to do with her? Roxy bit her lip, a rush of nervousness sweeping through her as she followed Cass into the nursery—a light», charmingly decorated room with a window overlooking the lush green cliffs and the deep blue ocean beyond.
Cam lifted the baby from her cot, but her high-pitched wails continued. ‘I know, I know, you’re wet and you want a clean nappy. And I guess you’re ready for your bottle, too.’ He seemed surprisingly unperturbed. ‘Let’s get you out of your wet nappy first, huh?’ He glanced round at Roxy. ‘I guess she still misses her mother, poor kid. Mary’s been a lifesaver. Emma adores her. Mary’s been like a grandmother to her.’
Roxy’s heart wrenched. She wanted Emma to adore her, not an elderly baby-sitter. But she wasn’t being fair. If Mary was like a grandmother to Emma, her niece was lucky to have such a caring baby-sitter.
‘Can I hold her while you find her a clean nappy?’ she begged, her heart going out to the wailing baby as she dropped the teddy bear into the baby’s cot and waited expectantly.
‘Let’s get her changed first.’ Cam was already lowering Emma onto a changing table. He had the wet nappy off in a trice, snatching up a clean one from the shelf below. ‘Ever changed a baby’s nappy?’ he asked her with a mocking sidelong glance.
Roxy took a deep breath. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m sure if you can master it, so can I.’
‘Quite. Watch how I do it, and next time you can have a go.’ He fastened the clean nappy with more speed, Roxy noted critically, than finesse. The baby, she thought, definitely needs a woman’s touch.
‘Thank heaven for disposable nappies,’ Cam commented, tickling the baby’s tummy. The crying miraculously stopped and the baby began to gurgle, a beautiful smile spreading across her tiny heartshaped face. ‘Voilà!’ Cam gave a triumphant grin. ‘Feeling better already, aren’t you, princess?’
Roxy took a step forward and bent over her baby niece, her eyes misting.
‘Oh, she’s so beautiful,’ she cried involuntarily. The baby had changed so much in the past five months. ‘She looks just like—like her mother looked at the same age.’ She raised blurred eyes to Cam’s face. ‘She has Serena’s eyes…Serena’s lovely smile…Serena’s dark hair. Can I hold her now?’ she pleaded huskily.
He nodded and stood aside. ‘Of course you can.’ She caught an odd glint in his eye as she blinked her tears away, but it was gone even before she turned back to the baby. It could have been surprise… doubt…mistrust…she couldn’t tell.
‘Emma…hullo, sweetheart,’ she said gently. ‘I’m your aunt Roxy, remember?’ With a smile she reached for the baby, bracing herself for a refusal, and renewed wails.
But there were no wails, no refusal. The baby, still smiling her dimpled smile, raised her tiny arms and reached out to her. With a rush of overwhelming love and relief, Roxy gathered her niece in her arms.
As she nursed the baby on her shoulder, stroking her soft hair with tender fingers, overcome by the fragile, sweet-smelling bundle in her arms, she saw Cam watching her. Ready, no doubt, to seize the baby from her if she started crying again. But mercifully she didn’t, and Roxy’s fears began to slide away. She was over the first hurdle, at least.
‘I’ll go and get her bottle ready,’ said Cam, and he slipped from the room. Roxy saw the baby’s eyes following him, saw her lip wobble, and decided to follow him, cuddling the baby in her arms as she headed for the kitchen.
It was only the second time in Emma’s short life that she’d held the baby in her arms, but it felt so different this time—overwhelmingly different. Never had she felt so close to her sister’s cherished child, so deeply moved, so filled with love and sadness and joy, all mixed up together. It made her more determined than ever to fill the tragic void her sister’s death had left.
But what if Cam wouldn’t give up the baby, and insisted on fighting her for custody? What hope would she have of taking him to court and winning? Especially if he had a wife by the time the case came to court. A wife who would care nothing for a baby girl who wasn’t even Cam’s child—as her own stepmother, Roxy brooded, cared nothing for her.
The baby began to whimper as she spied her bottle, and Roxy murmured softly, ‘It’s coming, sweetheart, it’s coming.’
‘She should have had this earlier,’ Cam muttered as he popped the bottle into the microwave, ‘but she fell asleep before I could give it to her. We’re a bit out of our routine today.’
When the bottle was ready he let Roxy feed the baby, suggesting they go into the family room to sit in comfort. Instead of leaving her alone with Emma, he stayed to watch, lowering himself into the armchair opposite. Roxy wondered peevishly if he was still worried about leaving his niece alone with her.
She sighed. It was good that he cared so much for the baby, but not so good that he thought so little of her.
‘If you want to go and do something else, feel free,’ she invited hopefully. Her suspicion that he didn’t trust her with the baby was making her nervous. ‘You must have lots of other things you could be doing.’ With no Mary for the weekend, and no Philomena to cook and clean up for him…
She gulped as it hit her for the first time. She was here alone with him for the whole weekend. She would be alone overnight with him. And tomorrow night. And maybe she’d still be here next week as well, if Cam hadn’t agreed to hand Emma over by then. Assuming he allowed her to stay on.
She began to shake.
The baby made a querulous sound, and Roxy snapped back to earth, cooing softly until Emma settled down again, and resumed her contented sucking on the bottle.
‘I’ll never keep her from you, Roxy,’ Cam promised, his voice bringing her head up with a jerk. ‘You can see the baby whenever you want to. Any time,’ he said expansively, though his eyes were strangely hooded, she noted. ‘Whenever you’re at home’ he added with a touch of dryness. ‘I want her to be close to you, too, Roxy.’
Her blue eyes sparked fire. How generous, she thought caustically. Was he speaking for his new wife, too? Would she want a young, single aunt constantly popping into their lives? Or would she want to keep Cam and baby Emma to herself?
Roxy thought of her possessive, mean-streaked stepmother, Blanche, who’d never wanted to share her husband with anybody, not even his own daughters. Would Cam’s wife be like Blanche, jealously keeping her husband to herself? Perhaps, in time, even wanting to keep Cam from his niece as well?
Rebellion stirred in Roxy’s heart. She couldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t!
‘I’m home for good now,’ she announced firmly. ‘I’m not going on any more field trips.’ She had to make him believe it, and waste no time about it. In the days to come, while she was here at Raeburns’ Nest, she would have to make herself indispensable to the baby so that Cam would see that she was the best one to bring up their niece.
It was vital that she took little Emma from him before he plunged into another marriage, purely for the baby’s sake. Once he was married, she might find herself shut out of her niece’s life altogether, despite what Cam was promising now. His new wife would have no emotional ties with Serena’s baby, and a woman who felt nothing for a child could cause lifelong pain and psychological damage to both the child and to everyone who cared for her welfare.
Roxy felt a fierce protective urge towards the helpless baby in her arms. How could any stepmother feel as strongly for Emma as she felt?
She bowed her head over the feeding baby, hiding her eyes from Cam’s probing gaze. Even if his new wife welcomed her into their home with open arms…even if the woman proved to be a wonderful mother to Emma…how, Roxy wondered bleakly, could she bear to come back here in the future, knowing that Cam would be here…with another woman?
How could she bear to see him gazing at his wife the way he’d once, briefly but earth-shatteringly, gazed at her? How could she bear to see him holding his wife the way he’d once held her? The way he’d held her again earlier today—even if he’d only been trying to comfort her?
She almost moaned aloud, but managed to turn it into a soft humming sound instead, then into a lilting lullaby—one she remembered her own mother singing when her younger sister, Serena, was a baby. She felt her eyes fluttering as she hummed. Her jet lag was catching up with her. She jerked herself awake as her head nodded forward—unwittingly jerking the baby at the same time.
With a snort of protest, Emma snatched her mouth away from the bottle and began to wave her arms about, her big dark eyes wide and anxious now, as if she were about to cry.
‘Getting tired of the baby already, Roxy?’ Cam murmured. He was on his feet, plucking the fretful baby from her arms.
‘Hi, princess, what’s up?’ He had a small rubber dog in his hand, Roxy noticed, which he squeezed, making it squeak. Emma smiled and grabbed at it. ‘That’s better. Well…I guess you’ve had enough milk. Like a play now?’ Lowering the baby onto a colourful blanket on the floor, among her scattered toys, Cam glanced up at an indignant Roxy.
‘Taking care of a baby requires a lot of time and tience—and stamina,’ he drawled, obviously referring to the way she’d almost nodded off. ‘It isn’t as exciting as finding an ancient tomb or digging up old bones,’ he pointed out dryly. ‘It’s a relentless routine of feeds, bathing, changing nappies—including smelly, dirty ones—and keeping the baby amused and safe when she’s awake.’
Roxy found her voice, if shakily. ‘I’ve just f-flown back from America. It was a long flight and I was so worried about Emma I—I barely slept on the plane!’ She was trembling. Even her bottom lip was trembling. She realised she was dangerously close to bursting into tears again. Hysterical tears this time.
Cam would just love that, she thought, pulling herself together with an effort. Hysterical women didn’t make capable, calm mothers, he’d be thinking to himself. And he’d be right
‘Maybe you’d better go to bed and sleep it off,’ Cam suggested in a marginally gentler tone. ‘I can take care of Emma. I’ll put her in her stroller and take her for a walk along the cliffs. She loves that. Don’t worry about your dinner. I’ll leave it for you and you can heat it up in the microwave when you wake up.’
Roxy bit down on her lip, her nerve ends bristling a warning. He was letting her know that she wasn’t needed. I can take care of Emma.
‘They say it’s better for your body clock if you keep going until your normal bedtime,’ she asserted, drawing herself up and arching her back. ‘It was just sitting here for so long that made me drowsy. I’m fine now. Maybe we could have our dinner early?’ she suggested in the same breath. ‘I’ll go to bed straight after that.’ Then she wouldn’t have to spend the evening alone with Cam. She just didn’t feel up to it.
‘Whatever you say. You’re the guest’.
Just a guest, he might as well have said. She compressed her lips. He obviously didn’t expect her to stay at Raeburns’ Nest for long…didn’t believe that she was serious about giving up her field work to take care of her baby niece. Well, he’d soon find out how wrong he was.
She dropped to her knees beside the baby, who was happily chewing on her rubber dog. ‘I’ll play with Emma,’ she offered, ‘while you go and have a shave or something.’ It was a gentle reminder that Cam could do with a helping hand himself.
He paused for a moment, then said, ‘Right. I will. If Emma kicks up a fuss when I leave the room, you could try taking her for a walk in the garden. That usually works. If it doesn’t, you know where to find me. My room’s the one next to the nursery—on this side.’
He turned away, thankfully, before he could see the flush that rose to her cheeks. She had no wish to be reminded where his bedroom was!
She slept for twelve solid hours that night, not waking until nine the next morning. She had to force her eyes open against the sunlight streaming into her room. When she squinted at her watch and saw the time she groaned aloud. Cam must have been up for hours already, probably since five this morning, dealing with the baby on his own.
What would he think of her for sleeping in so late? That she didn’t care about Emma after all?
She scrambled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. She didn’t waste time showering, simply splashing her face with water to wake herself up, then dragging on jeans and a T-shirt. She didn’t even brush her hair. Not that her short jagged hairstyle looked much different when she did.
She found Cam in the kitchen feeding the baby from a Peter Rabbit bowl. For a second she paused at the doorway, entranced by the sight of this big, tall, very masculine man bending over a baby’s highchair, patiently spooning cereal into his niece’s open mouth. He was chatting away all the while, giving words of encouragement one second, glowing praise the next, and cracking the odd corny joke—for all the world like any proud real father.
She felt an emotional lump swell in her throat. Cam’s brother Hamish had been a wonderful father. Now she could see that Cam would make a great father, too.
Would she make as good a mother? She sighed, chewing on her lip. She wouldn’t have a home like this to offer Emma, for a start. Or buckets of money, like Cam, for clothes, food, creche fees, schooling… ‘Ah, good morning.’ As if sensing her presence, Cam glanced round. ‘Come in, Roxy, Emma’s just finished. Scraped the bowl clean.’ He wiped the baby’s face clean with a damp cloth. ‘Well done, princess!’ Little Emma beamed.
Roxy stepped forward, relieved that he’d made no caustic comment about her late appearance. Because he hadn’t remarked on it, she did. ‘Sorry I slept in—’ she began.
He waved a hand. ‘I’m glad you did. You’re looking much better. You were out on your feet last night.’
‘I know. Sorry, I wasn’t much company.’ She’d almost fallen asleep at the dining-room table, over his excellent dinner, which he’d served up as soon as they’d put the baby down for the night—with her tiny arms curled around her new teddy bear.
Roxy could barely even remember what they’d talked about over the meal. Nothing controversial…she would have remembered that. They’d talked a little about Hamish and Serena, she recalled with a tremor, and they’d talked about Emma and her cute habits and mannerisms, and how she learned to do something new each day. After dinner Cam had refused her offer of help in the kitchen, pointing to the automatic dishwasher, and she’d excused herself and stumbled off to bed.
‘You were just fine,’ Cam said lightly, turning back to the baby before she could read what was in his eyes. ‘I slept in, too,’ he admitted over his shoulder. ‘Emma didn’t wake until seven this morning, believe it or not. I actually had time for a shower and shave before she woke up.’
Roxy swallowed. She’d noticed. Not only was he clean-shaven, well scrubbed and smooth-haired, but he was neatly dressed in a maroon polo shirt, light-coloured pants, and smart casual shoes. Was it in her honour? she wondered dubiously. Or was he planning to go out—leaving her to care for the baby? To test her dedication, perhaps? To see if she’d be more than ready to hand the baby back after a few hours alone with her?
She soon found out. Later in the morning while the baby was taking a nap and she was hanging out some washing that she’d insisted on doing for Cam, she heard the front doorbell ring. When she came back into the kitchen she heard. voices coming from the family room. Not wanting to intrude, she slipped into the passage leading to the guest wing, deciding to take a shower and do some tidying up while she waited for Emma to wake up.
A woman’s voice wafted through the open door of the family room. ‘Let’s slip out to a restaurant for lunch, Cam, while you have the chance. This relative of yours can mind the baby for a few hours, surely?’
Roxy’s steps faltered. The woman’s voice was young and sultry, with a familiar, possessive ring. Was this Cam’s future bride?
She spun round. Why was she running away? Why not face the woman, and see what kind of mother Cam intended to inflict on her poor little niece? The sexy-voiced siren sounded more interested in having Cam take her out to Sunday lunch than in spending time with baby Emma. Roxy’s blood boiled.
She marched back to the family room. The open door revealed Cam and his female guest sitting side by side on the sofa. The woman, in a tight black dress that showed off her very noticeable curves, was swaying towards Cam, her glossy red lips pouting in invitation, her long dark hair cascading over her slender shoulders…and over Cam’s left arm.
Another ravishing brunette! Roxy’s blue eyes glinted. Was there no end to Cam’s procession of flashy brunettes? Or was this one the last of a long line? The chosen one?
Her thoughts grew blacker than ever.
Cam, she noticed as he glanced up, had some papers on his lap. She felt her heart constrict. Were he and his dark-eyed bimbo in the process of applying for a marriage license? Were these the papers they had to sign?
‘Ah, Roxy…come in.’ Cam swept the papers aside and jumped up. ‘My secretary has just popped in with some documents for me to go through. Since I’ve had Emma to look after, I’ve been doing quite a bit of work at home,’ he explained, to her secret relief. ‘I wanted to give my niece a chance to get used to having me around all the time.’
All the time… Roxy met the challenge in his eyes. He was reminding her that he intended to keep his niece. I intend to get married as soon as I can, he’d told her.
Her eyes strayed to the shapely brunette, who was rising with feline grace from the sofa. His secretary, he’d said. How convenient for him, she thought, hiding a wave of cynicism behind cool blue eyes.
‘Mirella…’ Cam turned back to the brunette with a smile that made Roxy reflect bitterly, Why can’t he smile at me like that? Like he did…once, long ago? ‘This is Emma’s aunt…Roxy Warren. Roxy’s just come back from America…and before that she was at a dig in northern Mexico. She’s an archeologist.’
Not, Roxy noted sourly, ‘She was an archeologist.’ Cam still refused to believe that she was serious about giving up her overseas field trips.
‘Roxy…’ He turned back to her, catching her eye before she had time to hide the hostility in hers. ‘This is Mirella Brazzi, who works for me at the Wollongong plant. She—’ He stopped, his head swinging round. ‘Ah! The baby’s awake. Mirella, would you mind if—’
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