Ned said Molly had appointed herself as Freya’s protector. Maybe the old dog instinctively knew she carried her beloved master’s child. After all, she’d had pups of her own. At first, Freya had shooed her away but Molly had been persistent. Once Freya had lost her fear, she had come to welcome the sweet animal’s company. And Molly was very cooperative about having her photo taken.

  Freya bent her head again to culling the images of yesterday’s shoot. So many to pick from. She paused at one where Ned’s head was angled as if he was listening to what Hero had to say to him about the manoeuvre they were making. Ned would love it. In fact it was such a good shot she decided to print it out to show him. It could actually be worthy of framing.

  There was a printer in Ned’s office. She’d already used it so the link was in her laptop. No need to disturb Ned down at the admin building. Besides, she wanted it to be a surprise.

  She went next door into Ned’s office, accompanied by Molly, her claws clicking companionably on the wooden floor.

  Ned’s computer stood quietly on his desk. As she hunted for photographic paper, she accidentally knocked his mouse and his screen brightened into life.

  She would never snoop. But she couldn’t escape the image on the screen. It was a personal page on one of the big dating sites.

  Ned’s page.

  Her mouth dried. What was this doing open? There was a nice enough photo of Ned, though she could do a lot better—he looked a bit self-conscious. And there...there was his profile with a list of requirements for his ideal wife.

  Freya felt the blood drain from her face and she had to hang onto the edge of his desk for support as she read the particulars of Ned’s ideal wife.

  1. Genuine enjoyment of country life essential.

  2. Management experience to help run the business would be advantageous. Accountant or lawyer ideal.

  3. Love of animals, particularly horses. A vet or vet nurse would be very welcome.

  4. An interest in gardening.

  5. A good cook.

  6. Conservative, country-focused values.

  What a pompous list. Nausea rose in her throat. She didn’t meet one of his requirements. Not one. The gardening was only a new possibility. No wonder he wanted to encourage her interest in horses. Freya cursed a long string of the impressive curse words she had learned during her time in care. Molly whimpered, aware of her distress.

  Ned hadn’t out-and-out asked for a woman with child-bearing hips but that requirement was implicit in the rest of his requirements. She was ahead of the game there, she thought cynically.

  She was bearing his child, the heir to Five and a Half Mile Creek and a fortune. That heir would need to be legitimate. He’d actually told her that Hudson children were not born out of ‘wedlock’. Of course he wanted to get married to legitimise his offspring—no matter how unsuitable the mother was as a wife. And then what for her? Find herself discarded and facing a custody battle she’d never be able to afford to fight?

  How could she have got him so wrong?

  Her first instinct was to run away, back to her apartment in Melbourne. But Ned had driven her here and she had no means of escape. Her van was parked back at the studio.

  Again, she was trapped. Only this time she didn’t feel horror at being trapped, rather an intense wave of sadness, because she had been beginning to think of Five and a Half Mile Creek as home. And Ned as the man for her.

  Freya dragged her feet out into the hallway and back to the studio. There was an elegant, comfortable armchair that faced the view of the garden. She had already pinpointed it as a perfect chair to sit in while breastfeeding her baby.

  Now she flopped into it, exhausted, shaken, betrayed. Molly gave a huge doggy sigh, circled, lay down and rested her head on Freya’s feet. Freya closed her eyes against her frantic, anguished thoughts and tried to make sense of her future.

  Because it couldn’t be here.

  * * *

  It wasn’t every day a guy got to propose to the woman he loved. Ned was on such a high, he was whistling the tune of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March as he strode along the corridor to his study. For some sentimental reason, he wanted to be holding his lucky horseshoe when he asked Freya to be his wife.

  He headed to where the horseshoe was propped, ends up as it should be, and stopped suddenly. Odd that his computer monitor should be on; even odder that Freya’s laptop was on his desk. He went to move her laptop, accidentally nudged his keyboard, and his screen lit up.

  Hell.

  Stricken, he stared at the screen. That stupid list on that stupid dating site.

  Freya had seen it.

  Who knew what conclusions she might have drawn? He cursed long and loud.

  Ned picked up his horseshoe—he really had need of it now—put it in his pocket, and headed into Freya’s studio.

  She was lying back in the armchair, with Molly stretched out by her feet. For a moment, he watched her. Freya’s eyes were closed but Ned wasn’t convinced she was asleep. Her breathing pattern didn’t seem authentic. Molly looked up at him, thumped her tail in greeting. He liked how his dog was so protective of Freya and was relieved Molly didn’t growl at him for hurting her new mistress.

  Because Freya must be hurt. Really hurt. And who could blame her? No wonder she didn’t want to open her eyes.

  Ned squatted down on his haunches next to the chair, where he could look directly into her face. ‘Freya? Are you awake?’ A suspicious flickering of her eyelashes, but no reply. ‘Blink once if you hate me.’ A definite blink. As to be expected. ‘So you’re not talking to me?’ Another blink.

  ‘I won’t even ask if you think I’m the stupidest guy on earth. Because you’ll wear your eyelids out blinking your agreement.’ No blink.

  ‘The dating site. I never used it. Not once. But the subscription came up for renewal and I had the page open to cancel it. I forgot to close it down.’ Inwardly he groaned. ‘That list.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘I wrote it after Wil and Georgia’s wedding. I was so happy for them but it made me realise how lonely I was. How much I wanted a wife and family of my own. Your new friend, my cousin Erin, wouldn’t stop teasing me about my single status. But it’s impossible to meet anyone out here you haven’t known all your life. A dating site seemed a reasonable option.’

  He paused. ‘Are you listening? I don’t want to be giving this speech for Molly’s benefit. Two blinks if you’re listening to me.’ Two blinks.

  ‘Okay. I’ll continue my spiel, which, by the way, I’m finding quite humiliating.’ Was that a slight upward curve of her mouth? ‘I hadn’t had a lot of luck with love, right back to schooldays and Teresita. Then there was the disaster with Leanne. The list was more a defensive thing, really. I didn’t dare put down into writing that I’d decided...that...that love hurt too much for me to pursue. I could do without it. Still listening?’ Blink.

  ‘Then along you came. And with you came something I had never imagined. I was enchanted with you from the second I met you.’ He paused. ‘Can you please open your eyes? Maybe talk to me. I’m really sorry you saw that list. Gutted in fact. But it means nothing.’

  Slowly Freya’s eyes opened. They were wary and tear-stained. The sight wrenched at his heart. He hated to see her hurt, to know that he had hurt her. Slowly, she sat up straight and swivelled to face him. Now it seemed he was kneeling in supplication before her—which seemed entirely appropriate.

  ‘I don’t meet one criterion on your list.’ Her voice broke. ‘Not one.’

  ‘They were stupid criteria for a wife.’

  ‘They read more like an ad for a housekeeping manager.’

  Ned winced.

  ‘I expect she would have come wielding a stock whip,’ Freya said.

  ‘I’m impressed you know what a stock whip is. You’re really turning into a country girl.’

  ‘Ned,’ she said warningly. ‘Don’t push it. You’re lucky I’m even hearing you out.’

  ‘I know. And I’ve got a new wife wish-list.’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘It’s much shorter than the old one. Do you want to hear it?’

  She blinked.

  He grinned. And held on tight to his lucky horseshoe.

  ‘I haven’t written the list down, but I’ll pretend I’m reading it out. Try not to interrupt me.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  He thought on his feet—or rather on his knees. ‘One. Must make me laugh and help me not to take myself so seriously. Two. Must love the colour purple. Three. Must accept that she is loved from the depths of his heart by her husband-to-be. Four. Must be named Freya Delaney.’

  He was suddenly too choked up to think of any more.

  Freya leaned towards him, her eyes glistening. ‘I think I might fit those criteria.’

  Ned got to his feet and pulled her up from her chair to look at him. He cupped her face in his hands—her lovely face that had become so utterly precious to him. ‘Does that mean you’ll do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  ‘Do you want me to blink or say yes?’

  He laughed. ‘Please say yes.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said immediately. Then blinked as well. ‘Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife.’

  He kissed her, long and sweet and tenderly. ‘I love you, Freya.’

  ‘I love you, too, Ned. From...from the depths of my heart.’

  He took her left hand in his, and held it up. ‘I haven’t got you a ring.’

  ‘I don’t expect...’

  ‘There’s a safe in the next room containing a collection of family jewellery. Wil gave Georgia our grandmother’s emerald ring. I can have my choice of ring for my bride. But I would rather you designed your own engagement ring, unique to you. I thought...amethyst and diamonds.’

  Her smile wobbled at the edges. ‘Of course I would prefer that, Ned. You know me so well already.’

  ‘I felt I knew you as soon as I met you.’

  ‘I had the same feeling,’ she said. ‘As if...as if we were meant to be.’

  ‘Your ring will have nothing to do with the past, just our present.’

  ‘And our future, Ned,’ she said, rising on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘Our wonderful, wonderful future.’

  EPILOGUE

  Six weeks later

  BECAUSE FREYA HAD never intended to marry, she’d never thought much about weddings. But her wonderful Ned loved weddings and all that went with them.

  Ned had been a groomsman five times and was—by her own definition—the marrying kind. As soon as they’d got engaged, he’d been full of plans for a traditional wedding in the country town church where generations of his family had wed. Because she loved him, and in the spirit of compromise they intended to follow in their life together, Freya had agreed to a church wedding.

  But she’d cringed at the idea of a formal ceremony, held in a church packed with guests she didn’t know and who didn’t know her. Ned, however, wanted to celebrate their marriage in the company of his family, his many friends, and all the Five and a Half Mile Creek employees, in the Hudson family tradition.

  Again she and Ned had compromised and agreed to an intimate, family-only wedding in the church, followed the next day by a big party for everyone at Five and a Half Mile Creek. There, Ned could proudly introduce Freya as his wife to the greater community.

  So now Freya stood in the vestibule of the flower-bedecked church, ready to make her walk down the aisle towards Ned, where he waited for her with his best man, Wil, and his father. His parents, Jackie and Dave, had flown back from Italy for the wedding and Freya and Ned had wanted them to be part of the ceremony.

  First down the aisle was tiny Nina, Wil and Georgia’s toddler daughter, determined to show off her new-found walking skills, looking adorable in a flouncy white dress with a huge bow at the back and cute little satin shoes. Freya couldn’t help but wonder if she might have a little girl, or a little boy like Ned. Her heart swelled at the thought. Either would be loved.

  Halfway down the aisle, Nina tired and sat down on her bottom. Amid fond laughter from everyone else, the littlest attendant was then swept up in the arms of her mother, dark-haired Georgia, who, holding her daughter, continued down the aisle. She was followed by Ned’s cousin, red-haired Erin. Both bridesmaids wore simple long gowns in different shades of lavender and carried purple iris. Jackie was next, in an elegant purple silk suit she’d bought in Italy for the wedding. Freya had warmed to her future mother-in-law the minute she’d met her, and they were already close. Ned’s father had welcomed her with a big hug and had taken it upon himself to school her in all things country and the history of the Hudson family.

  Once all the attendants reached the altar, the organist—Ned had insisted on an organist—struck up the wedding march processional and Freya prepared to walk down the aisle. She’d thought she’d be nervous, but she wasn’t. She was exhilarated and excited about taking her place next to Ned.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Hugh.

  ‘Looking forward to it,’ she said.

  Both Hugh and burly, bearded Gordon were accompanying her down the aisle. Not to ‘give her away’—she didn’t agree with that part of the ceremony—but to represent her family. The two men weren’t family by blood, but they were family of the heart to not only her but also Ned.

  Family.

  She had longed for it since she’d lost her nanna and now she had found her place with Ned and his family. A week ago, she’d reunited with Wil to find the bond of friendship still strong after all those intervening years. She’d made another friend in his wife. Georgia had sobbed with joy that her husband had met again the girl who’d been one of his very few friends in a dark childhood, and who was now marrying his beloved brother.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Freya said to her escorts, as she looked ahead to where Ned waited for her. He looked very handsome in a morning suit. She had to force herself to step sedately as she made her way up the aisle, when what she wanted to do was lift up the skirts of her long gown and run to him.

  * * *

  As Ned stood at the altar with his brother and father by his side, he realised Freya had been absolutely right to keep their wedding ceremony simple and limited to the people who were closest to them. The warmth of his inclusive family—who had embraced her with love and welcome—had already worked magic on his beautiful Freya, who was learning to trust and love in return. And their baby would be born into that caring circle.

  Now he watched, with hammering heart and dry mouth, the exquisite vision floating her way up the aisle towards him. She was wearing an elegant, full-skirted white dress with long, tight sleeves—flattering on her newly rounded figure. A voluminous white veil trailed behind her.

  More wings to bring her to him.

  Purple and white flowers were twisted through her hair and in her bouquet.

  ‘She’s lovely, Ned, in every way,’ Wil said to him, in a low voice. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that you and Freya are getting married. When we were kids, I wanted Tegan for a sister. Now she finally will be.’

  ‘I’ve thanked you in my head, so many times, for rescuing her from that dangerous situation.’ Ned spoke to Wil but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Freya.

  ‘Now she has you to look out for her,’ said Wil. ‘Things couldn’t have worked out better, could they? It’s as if it was fated to be.’

  ‘You could say that,’ Ned said, watching as his bride moved nearer. That first day he’d thought Freya had floated in from the rose garden on fairy wings. She’d proved to be only too earthy and real and he loved her all the more for it.

  As Freya and her escorts moved closer, Ned noticed another one of the curiously smug glances between Hugh and his mother. Earlier, he’d even caught them in a self-congratulatory fist-bump. Something about that exchange made him wonder why the house had needed photographing at all, when his mother was retired.

  Then all he could think about was Freya, as Hugh handed her to him and he took her hand in his to draw her close. ‘Hello, soon-to-be-wife,’ he murmured.

  ‘Hello, soon-to-be-husband,’ she whispered, with the lovely, gap-toothed smile that had entranced him from the beginning, her eyes luminous with love. ‘Do you have your lucky horseshoe in your pocket?’

  ‘All ready to catch our good luck.’

  As they stood facing each other in front of the priest, their family members stood close by, as if they, too, were making vows—pledging to help support the young couple on their journey into marriage and parenthood and a lifetime of love.

  His beloved Freya, who’d said she would never marry but was marrying him; who never wanted to have children but was carrying his baby; repeated her vows in in a clear, steady voice that rang with sincerity and commitment. He was so overcome with emotion that he choked out the words, although he hoped with equal sincerity. But he didn’t stumble as he slipped the simple platinum wedding band next to the amethyst-and-diamond ring already on the third finger of her left hand, then held his hand steady as Freya slipped a matching band onto his ring finger.

  ‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ proclaimed the priest.

  Ned had never heard such wonderful words.

  ‘I love you, wife,’ he said.

  ‘I love you, dearest husband,’ she murmured back. ‘For ever and for always.’

  Ned didn’t wait for anyone to give him permission to kiss his bride, but pulled her to him and claimed her mouth with his. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back and they kissed and kissed to the accompaniment of cheering and clapping. They only pulled away, laughing and joyous, to accept heartfelt congratulations and well wishes for their new life together.

 

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