The Cattleman, The Baby and Me. Michelle Douglas

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The Cattleman, The Baby and Me - Michelle Douglas Mills & Boon Romance

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      A baby’s screams suddenly and abruptly split the air. Sapphire Thomas swung away to dive inside the plane in instant response. She emerged a moment later with a baby capsule cradled in her arms. He found his anger again. Lies! These were all lies, and cruel ones at that.

      One thing was clear—this child was not his. This woman could take this baby, get on the plane, and slink back into whatever hole she’d crawled out of. He would not let her take advantage of his family’s grief.

      ‘Hey!’ he shot at her when she lifted the child from the capsule. ‘I told you to get back on that plane.’ He stabbed a finger at her. ‘You can take your baby and get back on that plane, because there’s no way—’

      The baby turned to stare at him.

      ‘No way that—’

      The baby’s face crumpled. It leaned so far away from him it was in danger of falling right out of the woman’s arms.

      But that baby. It…

      She balanced the baby on her hip and half turned, shielding him from Liam with her body. ‘Don’t you go scaring him, you big, horrible bully.

      Liam couldn’t move. All he could do was stare. At the baby. A baby who was the spitting image of Liam at the same age…of Lachlan…

       A baby who was the spitting image of Lucas!

      The resemblance had to be a coincidence. He hadn’t fathered this child. But…

      What about Lachlan or Lucas?

      His stomach turned. No, not Lucas. Lucas had been dead for…

      She’d said twenty-one months ago.

      Lucas had been alive twenty-one months ago. And able-bodied. He hadn’t yet had the accident that had crippled him.

      Twenty-one months ago Lucas had still been able to walk, ride…and presumably make love. Not that Liam had kept track of his trysts. But…

      She’d said Rottnest Island, and—

      His hands clenched. Anyone who knew his family, anyone who’d known Lucas, could spin a story like this.

      But when he stared at the child it didn’t feel like a story.

      She backed up a step and a shudder rocked through her. ‘What kind of man are you?’ she whispered.

      He barely heard her. Lucas had gone to Perth for the ag show. He’d stayed at Rottnest Island—Liam had the postcard to prove it. This child…could he be Lucas’s son?

      A lump tried to lodge in his throat, but he forced it back, refused to allow it to fully form.

      Sapphire Thomas speared him with those amazing green eyes. ‘Look, let’s get one thing clear. I am not letting you abandon Harry—got it?’ She lifted her chin. ‘We can deal with this like adults or we can leave it to the lawyers. It’s your call.’

      He shifted his gaze from the child to her. She didn’t look like a liar or a cheat, but then neither had his ex-wife.

      It would be better to let the lawyers deal with it.

      Under his continued scrutiny she turned a shade paler, and then she reached up and fastened the top button on her oversized and decidedly rumpled shirt.

      He blinked.

      ‘And you can stop looking at me like that,’ she said, in a voice so acid it would dissolve the rust from weathered corrugated iron. ‘I haven’t slept in two days. I’ve been stuck in that shoebox of a plane for over six hours. I’ve been weed on, vomited on, it’s as hot as blazes, and the dust is driving me mad! If I look like a bag lady, then—’

      ‘You don’t look like a bag lady.’ He didn’t know what had possessed him to say that. Only she didn’t look like a bag lady. And if she was feeling the heat, why wasn’t she undoing a few buttons or taking that long-sleeved shirt off instead? Even with the baby cradled in her arms he could make out the lines of the T-shirt she wore beneath it.

      She continued to stare at him. Her chin didn’t drop. As a ploy to force him to confront her claim, it worked. Her sister and his brother? He tried to weigh it, assess it.

      Why hadn’t she said Lucas was the father, then?

      His gut clenched. The day darkened. Given all he’d found out about Lucas after the accident, it made an uncanny kind of sense. It could all still be a pack of lies, of course, and Sapphire Thomas might still be a liar and a cheat. Or her sister might have taken advantage of her and spun her a whole pack of lies. Those things were just as possible.

      Something hard and heavy settled in his gut. He averted his eyes from the child. Regardless of how much he wanted to, he could not dismiss this woman’s claims. They warranted investigation. He owed Lucas that much.

      And much, much more.

      One thing was clear, though. He had to disabuse this woman of the misapprehension she was currently labouring under. ‘Ms Thomas, I know when I said this before that you didn’t believe me, but I am not that child’s father.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘I have never met your sister, and I have never been to Rottnest Island. I certainly haven’t taken a holiday—not there, not anywhere—in the last five years.’

      Her green eyes darkened in confusion. ‘But—’

      ‘He ain’t either,’ Sid piped in. ‘It’s become a bit of a joke in these parts.’

      Liam had no reason to lie. If he had a son, he would never turn his back on him. His hands clenched. Never!

      All the blood drained from Sapphire’s face. Liam pushed his more sombre thoughts aside and braced himself to move forward and steady her if she started to sway. From somewhere, though, she found the strength to stiffen her spine and lift her chin. The lines of exhaustion that fanned out from her eyes tugged at him.

      ‘But Emmy named you. She…She said…’ She swallowed, obviously trying to come to terms with his revelation. Bruised eyes met his. She recoiled from him as if he’d threatened to strike her…or worse. ‘You’d deny your own son?’

      ‘No!’ The word broke from him, harsher than he’d meant it to. ‘I wish—’

      He couldn’t finish that sentence. ‘I’m not his father.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘But I think I know who might be.’

      Her jaw dropped. He took advantage of her momentary silence to cast a sidelong glance at Sid, and hoped that she’d interpret it correctly—he didn’t want to discuss this any further in front of the other man.

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you? Or is this just a way of putting me off?’

      ‘I’m not trying to brush you off, Ms Thomas. You’re right—we do have a lot to discuss.’ He glanced at the sky. The afternoon was lengthening. ‘Where are you staying?’ It wouldn’t do to let this sit. He wanted to get to the

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