The Bridesmaid's Best Man

‘It wasn’t hard to figure out, Sox. I know you’re not normally a flirt. But I can’t blame you for giving it a go at the wedding. Mark was attractive enough to make any girl flutter her eyelashes. And the way Oliver pranced around in front of you with his ghastly new fiancеe was insufferable.’

Sophie nodded and felt a momentary sense of comfort that a good friend like Emma understood just how humiliated she’d felt when Oliver had turned up, with his glamorous heiress wearing the sapphire-and-diamond ring originally intended for her.

Practically everyone at the wedding had known she was Oliver’s reject. Most had tried not to look sorry for her, but she’d felt their sympathy. It had been smothering. Suffocating. Had sent her a little crazy.

Her good friend let out a huff of annoyance. ‘I’m still furious with my mother for letting Oliver come to the wedding. When he broke off with you he should have been axed from the invitation list, but somehow he wangled his way in, plus a fresh invite for her, as well.’

‘The thing is,’ said Sophie, not wanting to dwell on what might have been, ‘getting back at Oliver isn’t exactly a suitable excuse for getting pregnant. I mean, it’s not something I can explain to my parents, is it? Or to my child in the future, for that matter.’

She wasn’t sure she could explain to anyone exactly how getting back at Oliver had morphed into getting pregnant with Mark.

But, deep inside, she knew. Her heart could pinpoint the precise moment she’d looked into Mark Winchester’s dark eyes and the chatter in her head about Oliver had stopped, and she’d been drawn radically into the present. She’d been suddenly and completely captivated by the magnetic allure of the tall, rangy Australian. It had been like coming out of a deep sleep to find her senses truly awakened for the very first time.

As she’d danced with Mark, her entire body had tensed with an excitement beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Her fingers had longed to touch the suntanned skin on his jaw and, as they’d danced, she’d kept thinking about how his lips would feel on hers.

‘So you’re definitely going to keep the baby?’ asked Emma.

Sophie blinked, then nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘That’s wonderful.’

Was it? Sophie wished she could feel more excited about the fact that she was going to be a mother. It was still so hard to believe.

A heavy sigh escaped her. ‘I think I did something silly when I was talking to Mark. I suggested I might come out to see him, so we could talk through what we’re going to do about the baby.’

‘But that’s a fabulous idea. It’s exactly what I was hoping you’d do. I told Tim last night—’

‘You told Tim about it?’

‘Sophie, he’s my husband, and he’s your friend as well as Mark’s best mate. He’s worried about both of you. You’re so far apart, it’s almost like being on another planet. He said last night that if only you two could get together again you’d be able to sort this all out. And I agree.’

‘So you think I should go?’

‘Absolutely. It’s going to be horrendous to try to talk about everything from the opposite ends of the earth.’

That was true. But it would be horrendously extravagant to go all that way for a conversation she could have over the phone.

Except…she would see Mark again. And she might feel stronger about facing her family after she’d spoken to Mark.

And there was always a chance—a tiny, tiny chance admittedly—that when she and Mark got together again, they might…

Be careful, Sophie. Remember what happened with Oliver. Don’t get carried away dreaming of a happy-ever-after with Mark.

‘Sophie,’ insisted Emma. ‘It’s your future that’s at stake. And the baby’s and Mark’s. This is a big deal. It’s not something you can do long-distance.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

Emma wriggled off the seat, slipped her feet back into her black and silver sandals, then patted the top of Sophie’s head. ‘Listen to Aunt Emma, darling. If there’s a single event when a man and a woman need to sit down and look into each other’s eyes while they talk something through, it’s a shared pregnancy.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘I know Marion Bradley’s on the lookout for work. She’d take care of your agency for a week or two. Actually, Marion would probably take your business over if she had half a chance.’

‘I’ll bear her in mind.’

‘It’ll all work out beautifully.’ Emma looked at her watch. ‘I promised Tim I’d only be five minutes.’

‘You’d better go and rescue him. Thanks so much for coming.’

‘I’ll be in touch.’

CHAPTER TWO

THE three-quarter moon drifted out from behind a patch of cloud and cast a cool, white glow over the mustering camp. Mark tried to take comfort from his surroundings.

He saw the silvered silhouettes of the sleeping ringers, the last of the tough breed of Outback cowboys who still worked in the saddle, and who were essential help on big musters like this. He stared above at the night sky, at the familiar stars and constellations he’d known all his life. Everything was in the right place, just as it was at this time every year…the saucepan-shaped Orion…the Southern Cross with its two bright pointers…the dusty spill of the Milky Way…

A long sigh escaped him. He’d had twenty-four hours to digest Sophie’s news, but he still looked about him with a sense of bewilderment, still felt as if the whole world should have changed to match the sudden turmoil inside him.

He’d made her pregnant.

It was impossible. Astonishing.

He felt so damn guilty.

What the hell was he going to do about it? And what did Sophie intend to do? He didn’t even know if she wanted to keep the baby.

It would be her decision, of course, but he hoped that she would keep it. He would support her, would do the right thing.

He sighed heavily. If only they could have finished their conversation. He blamed himself that the phone’s battery had run down. He hadn’t realised that the cook he’d hired had a gambling problem. The damn fellow had been using the phone on the sly to place bets with his bookmaker in Melbourne and hadn’t bothered to recharge it.

Now, lying in his sleeping swag on the hard, red earth, Mark couldn’t stop thinking about Sophie. Kept remembering her gut-punching loveliness. Everything about her had set him on fire—the happy sparkle in her eyes, the musical laughter in her voice, the astonishing smoothness and whiteness of her skin, the seductive tease of her slender body brushing against him as they’d danced.

And then in bed…

He rolled uneasily in his swag. What was the point in tormenting himself with such memories? Sophie wasn’t happy now. He’d seduced her and wrecked her life.

When he got back, he would have to bite the bullet and make her understand that there was no point in her coming all the way down here.

Under other circumstances, it would have been different—fantastic, actually—if she’d been coming here. He could think of nothing better than having Sophie arrive for a brief holiday, so that they could take up where they left off. But if she was pregnant? Hell! She might be thinking of something more permanent, and that would be crazy.

His lifestyle was too hard, his world too alien and remote for a pregnant city girl from England. He had a property to run, which meant he was away from the homestead for long stretches. And Sophie would hate it here on her own. Apart from the heat and the dust, everything else was so far away—doctors, hospitals, shops, restaurants. There were no other women handy for girly chats.

It would be much more sensible if they simply worked everything out over the phone. He could send her money and arrange to see the child from time to time.

When he or she was old enough, they would be able to come out here for holidays.

That was the only way to handle this. He would do everything he could to support her, but Sophie shouldn’t leave London.