Page 98 of Where the Wattles Bloom

And they were equal partners in every other way, making joint decisions over the dinner table every night. Talking markets and stock and calendars. Discussing issues and the timings of future projects.

Rowena was always impressed at what it took to run a property this size. Or, as Lachlan called it, a modern agribusiness. And god help her if she didn’t suddenly find the way he said modern agribusiness sexy too.

Actually, the way he said anything farm.

Rowena squeezed her thighs together at the hot wave of longing that swept through her and knew it was time to give up hoping that this fixation with Lachlan was a result of indiscriminate pregnancy hormones and that any man in her proximity would yield the same result.

It was patently untrue.

She didn’t get all hot and flustered when Michael Randwick—the hottie new intern who had caused a mass swooning event—talked medical stuff. Or when Brenden Silver Fox Graham, the physio, discussed rehab exercises.

Only Lachlan had the ability to take her pregnancy hormones and spin them into a complete frenzy.

Which she did not want to delve into too deeply. She was just going to accept that it was some kind of bullshit, babydaddy, biological mumbo-jumbo, because the truth might be worse.

‘What are you doing to me, baby?’ she whispered into the dark, her hand pressed to her lower belly.

Despite the frustration of her current libidinous state, not a moment went by that Rowena didn’t marvel at the life growing inside her. At almost eighteen weeks, she was too broad-hipped and soft across the middle to be showing, but when she palpated she could feel the fundus of her uterus and, as each day passed, she dared to hope a little more.

Dared to take courage from Lachlan and Reggie, whose calm confidence bolstered her in her wobbly moments.

‘I can’t wait to meet you,’ she murmured.

And that’s when she felt it. A kick. Not a flutter or a rolling sensation, as foetal movements are so often described.

It was a very definite kick.

A hot spurt of tears pricked at Rowena’s eyes and her heart just about beat right out of her chest as she pressed her palm firmer and held her breath, concentrating desperately on the location of that fleeting sensation.

Willing it to come again.

She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in an attempt to keep the emotion at bay as she waited. And hoped. And yearned.

She’d never felt this before. She’d never been this far.

It came again, then. Quick but sure. A kick. In exactly the same spot. Without thinking about it, Rowena tumbled out of bed and stumbled next door.

To Lachlan.

His door wasn’t shut—it was never shut—and she walked straight into his room, ignoring the way orange Colin stared sightlessly at her from his position in the far corner.

‘Lachlan,’ she hissed.

He was awake in an instant, sitting bolt upright in nothing but his boxers. His gaze flew to the way her hand cupped her belly and then to her face, his expression morphing from where’s the fire to oh shit in less than a second.

‘No.’ She shook her head at the dread she could clearly see in his eyes. ‘No, no, no. It’s fine. She’s fine.’ Rowena took a moment to calm herself, to rein in her pulse. ‘It’s just … the baby moved.’

Her breathing was still a little off kilter, as was his, if the uneven rise and fall of his naked chest was any indication. ‘She moved.’

It took a beat or two but Rowena saw the moment Lachlan understood what she was saying—the import of it—as his expression turned wondrous. ‘She did?’

Rowena nodded. ‘She kicked. Like … a real kick.’

And then he smiled and she smiled and they were grinning at each other like they were the only two humans on earth who had ever made a baby together.

Glancing at her abdomen, he tipped his chin. ‘May I?’

A sudden well of emotion swept through Rowena’s chest, making her lungs feel too big as they expanded hard against the cage of her ribs. Moving towards him, she pressed her lips together to stop the emotion of the moment from escaping in the form of an ugly snot cry.