Barbara Hannay - A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle - A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle

He had a son. A boy.

His mind flashed back to their past, to the last magical summer he’d spent at the bay—three halcyon months between the end of high school and the start of university. Twelve years had passed since then, and in many ways it had felt like a lifetime. Now, for Gus, it felt like a lifetime in exile.

Shoulders back, chin lifted, Freya met his angry gaze. “Yes, Gus, you’re Nick’s father.”

A terrible ache bloomed in his throat, swiftly followed by a tumult of emotions—alienation and loneliness, frustration and anger. He fought for composure. The sea breeze buffeted his face and he gulped in deep, needy breaths.

“Let’s hope I can help him, then.”

Freya’s mouth trembled. She wanted to shower Gus with gratitude—but her instincts told her that he wouldn’t welcome such effusiveness from her. He was still shocked and angry. Just the same, she had to say something.

“I—I’m so sorry to land this on you. I know it’s a terrible shock and a huge imposition, and I—”

He held up a hand, silencing her. “I’m the boy’s father. I’ll do everything in my power to help him.”

By

By

www.millsandboon.co.uk

By

BARBARA HANNAYwas born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane, and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical North Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.

Visit www.barbarahannay.com

For my daughters Emma and Victoria, always ready with bright ideas.

TELLING Gus about the baby was never going to be easy. Freya knew that.

Gus was ambitious and, in the long hours they’d spent talking about the future, he’d actually told her that he didn’t want children till he was at least thirty. Just the same, all the way from Sugar Bay to Brisbane she tried to reassure herself that once she’d shared her news with Gus, he’d change his mind. How could he not want their baby? Surely everything would be fine.

Sitting on the train for five hours, nibbling dry crackers to ward off morning sickness, Freya had plenty of time to picture their reunion.

Details of the setting were hazy, but she knew exactly how Gus would look. His summer tan would have started to fade, but that was to be expected now that he was a city-based university student, attending lectures all day and poring over books at night. On the weekends too, apparently, as he’d been too busy to travel to the bay to see her.

At least his dark hair would be as soft and silky as ever, and it would still have that adorable habit of flopping forward onto his forehead. Best of all, Freya could picture the special way his dark eyes would light up when he saw her.

He would probably call her Floss, the funny nickname he’d given her within days of his arrival at Sugar Bay High. He’d look at her with one of his heartbreakingly beautiful smiles and he’d gather her in so close she could feel his heart pumping. She’d breathe in the scent of his skin, and her off-kilter world would settle back into place.

Later, when they were quite alone, she would find the courage to tell him.

Then, it would be OK.

She was silly to worry. Once Gus got used to the idea of the baby, they would work out something together and her future would no longer be a scary black hole. She would have Gus and their baby. Everything would be fine.

Deep in her heart, Freya knew that she might be nervous now, but by the end of the day, she and Gus would have a plan. Really, there was no need to worry.

LATE on a Friday afternoon, Gus Wilder was only half paying attention when he lifted the receiver.

‘A long-distance call for you, boss,’ Charlie from the front office told him. ‘A Freya Jones from Sugar Bay in Queensland.’

Freya Jones.

Just like that, Gus was zapped from his demountable office in the remotest corner of the Northern Territory to a little beach town on the coast of Queensland. He was eighteen again and standing at the edge of rolling surf, gazing into a lovely girl’s laughing sea-green eyes.

It was twelve years since he’d left the Bay and he hadn’t seen Freya in all that time, but of course he remembered her. Perfectly.

Didn’t every man remember the sweet, fragile magic of his first love?

So much water had flowed under the bridge since then. He’d finished his studies and worked in foreign continents, and he’d traversed joyous and difficult journeys of the heart. Freya would have changed a lot too. No doubt she was married. Some lucky guy was sure to have snapped her up by now.

He couldn’t think why she would be ringing him after all this time. Was there a high school reunion? Bad news about an old schoolmate?

Charlie spoke again. ‘Boss, you going to take the call?’

‘Yes, sure.’ Gus swallowed to ease the unexpected tension in his throat. ‘Put Freya on.’

He heard her voice. ‘Gus?’

Amazing. She could still infuse a single syllable with music. Her voice had always been like that—light, lyrical and sensuous.

‘Hello, Freya.’

‘You must be surprised to hear from me. Quite a blast from the past.’

Now she sounded nervous, totally unlike the laughing, confident girl Gus remembered. A thousand questions clamoured to be asked, but instinctively, he skipped the usual how are you? preliminaries…‘How can I help you, Freya?’

There was an almost inaudible sigh. ‘I’m afraid it’s really hard to explain over the phone. But it’s important, Gus. Really important. I…I was hoping I could meet with you.’

Stunned, he took too long to respond. ‘Sure,’ he said at last. ‘But I’m tied up right now. When do you want to meet?’

‘As soon as possible?’

This obviously wasn’t about a high school reunion. Gus shot a quick glance through the window of his makeshift office to the untamed bushland that stretched endlessly to ancient red cliffs on the distant horizon. ‘You know I’m way up in Arnhem Land, don’t you?’

‘Yes, they told me you’re managing a remote housing project for an Aboriginal community.’

‘That’s right.’ The project was important and challenging, requiring a great deal of diplomacy from Gus as its manager. ‘It’s almost impossible for me to get away from here just now. What’s this all about?’

‘I could come to you.’

Gus swallowed his shock. Why would Freya come to him here? After all this time? What on earth could be so suddenly important?

His mind raced, trying to dredge up possibilities, but each time he drew a blank.

He pictured Freya as he remembered her, with long sunstreaked hair and golden tanned limbs, more often than not in a bikini with a faded sarong loosely tied around her graceful hips. Even if she’d cast aside her sea nymph persona, she was bound to cause an impossible stir if she arrived on the all-male construction site.

‘It would be too difficult here,’ he said. ‘This place is too…remote.’

‘Don’t planes fly into your site?’

‘We don’t have regular commercial flights.’

‘Oh.’

Another eloquent syllable—and there was no mistaking her disappointment.