Page 63 of Where the Wattles Bloom

‘I knew straight away with Albert.’ She glanced up at the man in question, smiling at him. Albert smiled back. ‘And I was married to your grandfather at the time.’

Reggie hadn’t ever tried to rewrite history when it came to her relationship with Albert because she didn’t care who thought what. His grandfather had been an abusive arsehole and Albert had been her champion and she loved him, and that was all that had ever mattered to Reggie.

‘Sure, but it took you both decades to finally get your act together. I think I’m allowed a little latitude.’

‘Okay.’ She held her hands up in surrender. ‘Just don’t …’

Lachlan quirked an eyebrow. ‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t think that just because you haven’t been lucky in love before, it means you never will be.’

He forgot sometimes that Reggie not only knew all his business but seemed to also know the heart of him. He gave her a grudging smile. ‘It’s complicated, Reggie.’

She glanced at Albert. ‘All the best ones are.’ Then she squeezed his hand and gave him a cheeky half smile. ‘Third time’s a charm, right?’

Lachlan chuckled despite himself. ‘It is, huh?’

Reggie winked. ‘Trust me. I’m your grandmother.’

*

Lachlan had already spent two hours in the lambing pens by the time he called by to help move Rowena to the homestead at eight the next morning. He’d barely slept a wink last night, hundreds of what ifs and what abouts gambolling around his head like a herd of startled sheep.

But he’d hazard a guess he still looked better than Rowena, who was standing barefoot in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a jumper, water dripping off the ends of her wet hair as she stared at a piece of dry toast like she was trying to decide if it was friend or foe.

She looked so alone in her misery, his chest cramped at the sight. He wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her, but he didn’t want to freak her out by coming on too strong, either.

‘Rough start?’ he asked.

Red, who was at her heels, whined a little as Lachlan approached, looking between his new mistress and his old master, clearly trying to convey his level of concern. Lachlan gave him a soothing pat on the head as he drew level, feeling the dog’s agitation dissipate a little.

Rowena blew out an uneven breath as if trying to ride out a wave of nausea. She nodded. ‘You could say that.’

Suppressing the urge to slide his hand to her nape and massage the muscles, he picked up the plate containing the sad, lonely piece of toast. ‘Shall I ditch this?’

‘Oh god.’ Her hand slid to her stomach. ‘Yes, please.’

‘Did you sleep?’

‘I did, actually. Until I was woken with the violent urge to throw up about six.’

Lachlan had deliberately not played his bagpipes this morning so he wouldn’t wake her but apparently it hadn’t mattered. He put the plate in the sink and crossed back to her, giving in to the urge to touch her this time.

To hell with it, she looked and sounded wretched, and it was weird to not offer some kind of comfort to a woman he not only liked and had slept with but was carrying his baby.

The baby currently causing all her wretchedness.

He slid his hand over hers. ‘I’m sure Reggie’s got plenty of things in the kitchen more interesting than dry toast to tempt your currently delicate constitution.’

She shuddered. ‘Ugh, not right now.’

He smiled. ‘No. Not right now. When next you feel able to eat something.’ He tipped his chin at the bags that were sitting by the door. ‘All packed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, I’ll get them loaded.’

By the time he’d tossed them into the back of the ute, Rowena, now in her boots, was stepping out of the bunkhouse, Red shadowing her every move. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and inhaled the cool, eucalyptus-laden air.