A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle: A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle

A roar erupted from the crowd as they got out of the car and Freya sent a quick glance over her shoulder to the field.

‘Looks like the other team has scored a try.’ She pouted her lower lip in mock despair.

‘Who’s the opposition?’

‘Dirranvale. They usually beat us.’

‘Nothing’s changed, then.’ Gus sent her a quick grin, and he was rewarded by an answering grin.

Wow.

Wow. Wow. Wow. Even when Freya’s face was half hidden by sunglasses, the grin transformed her. She was the laughing beach girl of his past, and his heart leapt and rolled like a breaking wave.

Impulsively, he reached an arm around her shoulders, moved by an overpowering urge to plant a deep, appreciative kiss on her smiling mouth.

Just in time, he remembered that she’d chosen to keep him out of her life, out of his son’s life, and he stamped down on the impulse.

Just as well. Freya wouldn’t have welcomed it. Even his casual hug troubled her. Her lips trembled, her smile disintegrated and she moved away, leaving his arm dangling in mid-air.

Fool. Gus shoved his hands in his pockets. He was here to meet Nick, to save Nick. Flirting with the boy’s mother was not an option. Neither of them wanted to rake up out-of-date emotions and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t put a foot wrong during this visit.

Hurrying ahead of him, Freya had already reached the sideline and some of the bystanders turned, smiled and waved to her or called hello. As Gus joined her, they eyed him with marked curiosity, but he paid them scant attention. His interest was immediately fixed on the team of boys in the blue and gold Sugar Bay jerseys.

His son was one of those boys.

Right now, they were standing in a disconsolate row, watching as the opposition’s goal kicker booted the ball over the bar and between the posts. The whistle blew, the Dirranvale team’s score jumped another two points, then both teams regrouped, ready to resume the game.

Fine hairs lifted on the back of Gus’s neck. ‘Where’s Nick?’ he murmured to Freya. ‘Is he on the field?’

She nodded. ‘I bet you’ll recognise him.’

Gus felt a spurt of panic. Was he supposed to instantly know which boy was his? Was this some kind of test?

Freya’s sunglasses hid the direction of her gaze and his heart thumped as he scanned the field. There were thirteen boys out there in the Sugar Bay jerseys. He had no idea if Nick was dark or fair, tall or thickset, if he took after the Wilder family or the Joneses.

Should he be looking for a kid who was frailer than the rest? Or was his son the chubby kid, red-faced and panting and avoiding the ball?

The Sugar Bay team had possession of the ball and parents yelled instructions from the sidelines. The boys were running down the field, throwing passes, trying to make ground and dodge being tackled. As far as Gus could see, they were all happy and healthy and bursting with energy. It was hard to believe that any one of them could be seriously ill.

The boy in the number seven jersey suddenly broke ahead of the pack. He had a shock of black hair and dark grey eyes, and there was something about his face. Gus felt a jolt, a lightning bolt of connection. Recognition?

‘I don’t suppose that could be him, could it?’ His voice was choked. ‘Number seven?’

‘Yes, that’s Nick!’ Freya’s cry was close to a sob and she stood beside him with her arms tightly crossed, hugging her middle.

Nick. His kid. Nicholas Angus. Gus felt a rush of adrenaline as he watched the boy and he tried to pinpoint why he was so familiar. Apart from colouring, they weren’t really alike.

But there was something.

Gus’s eyes were riveted on Nick’s dashing dark-haired figure as he cleverly sidestepped an attempted tackle, then passed the ball.

He was good. Hey, Nick was really good. He moved forward again, ready for another chance to take possession, and Gus couldn’t suppress a fierce glow of pride.

The kid was fast. He was a halfback, a key position in any team, requiring speed and ball-playing skills and a quick mind rather than brute strength.

Chest bursting, Gus watched as Nick took the ball once more and passed it on neatly and deftly, a split second before he was tackled to the ground.

Gus elbowed Freya’s arm. ‘You didn’t tell me he was terrific.’

Her mouth pulled out of shape, halfway between a happy grin and heartbreak.

And suddenly Gus felt as if he’d swallowed the damn football. He looked away, staring into the canopy of one of the ancient trees as he willed his emotions into some kind of order. Once the game was over, he would meet Nick and he’d have to play it cool.

But it was such a massive thing to know that this wonderful kid was his child. He was flooded by a rush of emotion—of responsibility, of happiness and pride—and all of it tangled with fear and the weight of loss for all the years he’d been deprived of this pleasure.

If I’d seen him in the street I would have walked straight past and totally ignored him.

Knowing made such a difference.

But there was so much more he wanted to know. How could he and Nick possibly bridge all their missing years?

Freya thought she might burst with the tension.

She’d hoped that viewing the game from the sidelines would be an easier induction for Gus, giving him the chance to take a good long look at Nick before he had to cope with introductions. But she wasn’t finding it easy at all. With each minute that passed, she was more on edge.

She’d watched Nick play football many times, but she usually chatted with other mums and paid only fleeting attention to what was happening on the field. Today, she couldn’t drag her eyes from her boy, kept trying to see him though Gus’s eyes.

She knew she was hopelessly biased, but Nick was gorgeous, with his lovely dark hair and beautiful, soulful, intelligent grey eyes. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Gus to be seeing his son for the first time.

She remembered her own introduction to Nick. All those years ago.

With Poppy at her side as her birthing coach, there’d been gentle music playing in the background and the scents of lavender aromatherapy candles. Poppy had helped Freya to breathe through her contractions and, although the whole process was hard work, Nick’s arrival had been a calm and beautiful experience.

And he was perfect. Eight and a half pounds, with lovely dark hair, sturdy limbs and great energetic lungs.

It was only later, after Poppy and the midwife left Freya alone to rest, that she’d allowed herself to cry.

She’d cried for Gus.

And she’d cried oceans. She’d missed him so terribly, and she’d longed for him to see their baby. She’d cried and cried so hard and for so long that the nurse had called the doctor, who’d come hurrying back, and he’d been worried and wanted to prescribe a sedative.

Freya had been breastfeeding and she was sure a sedative couldn’t be good for her baby, so she’d rallied. From her first days as a mother, she’d always put Nick’s needs first.

But, because she’d managed just fine without ever meeting her dad, she’d convinced herself that her son could manage without a father. She’d told herself that she would unite the boy and his dad once Nick was old enough to understand…but by then Gus had been in the depths of Africa.

Freya was so wrapped in her worries she hadn’t even realised that the game was over until she saw the boys on the field shaking hands and reaching for water bottles. It was obvious from their body language that the Sugar Bay team had lost.

She glanced quickly at Gus. His body language spoke volumes too. He was so tense he was practically standing to attention.