Her Secret, His Child: A Night, A Secret...A Child / One-Night Love-Child / The French Aristocrat's Baby

But he could be with Serina again. Maybe only for a few hours, but it was possible. And whilst it was possible, nothing short of death was going to stop him from achieving that end.

The road swung round one last bend before straightening and heading down a more gentle incline. The thick bush on either side thinned out a little and Nicolas caught a glimpse of house after house between the tall trees.

Nicolas’s eyebrows arched. They certainly hadn’t been there ten years ago. His surprise increased as he drove slowly over the wooden bridge that forded the creek and led straight into the main street of Rocky Creek. Now his eyes widened as he noted the massive number of shop fronts. There was a tea house he’d never seen before, an antique shop and a very swish-looking beauty salon. There was another new café, with alfresco tables and chairs on the foot path. Even the old general store—which had been built in 1880—had been modernised with a separate fruit-and-vegetable shop next door to it.

The butcher was basically the same, as was the bakery.

But everything looked brighter and more prosperous.

The old garage at the end of the main street had received a facelift as well. But none of those things prepared him for the changes to Ted Brown’s Lumber Yard.

Firstly, it wasn’t called that anymore. The new sign facing the road shouted Brown’s Landscaping and Building Supplies in bold red letters. The old shed, which had once housed a ramshackle office, had been replaced by a smart cream brick building. To the right of this building sat huge piles of sand, gravel, coloured stones and mulches of various kinds. To the left was a large array of brick, tiles and paving samples to choose from. In front was a tarred car park, the parking spaces neatly marked out with lines, a far cry from what had once been a dirt paddock with a rutted driveway that turned to mud in the wet weather. Visible over the roof of the cream building stood the timber supply section, which had to be double the height and size that it used to be.

Nicolas smiled a wry smile as he angled his vehicle into one of the parking spaces. Serina could have warned him. But he supposed seeing the changes for himself was worth a thousand words.

A sudden and not very nice thought popped into his head.

Maybe Rocky Creek wasn’t the only thing that had made massive physical changes during the past ten years. Maybe the Serina he remembered had changed, too. Maybe she’d put on weight. Maybe she’d cut her lovely hair short and started wearing polyester tracksuits.

‘Surely not,’ he muttered as he switched off the engine and extracted the key. It wasn’t in her nature to let herself go. She was a perfectionist, like him. He only had to see what she’d done with the family business to know that she’d become a right little powerhouse in her own way. A woman like that would still look after her appearance.

Feeling relieved, Nicolas pushed open the driver’s door, only to be met by a great whoosh of warm air.

It’s hot, he thought as he climbed down from behind the wheel. Swelteringly, blisteringly hot.

Admittedly, his blood was thick because he’d been living in the northern winter. But still… how had he stood it here every summer? None of the houses or shops in Rocky Creek had had air-conditioning back then.

Nicolas shook his head and moved quickly over to the cream brick building, grateful to see two cooling units sitting by the side wall.

The girl behind the rather high and very long reception desk looked up as he entered the chilled space, her plump, plain face lighting up into a welcoming smile.

‘You must be Mr Dupre,’ she said chirpily.

‘I am,’ he agreed.

‘I’m Allie. He’s here, Serina,’ she called out over her shoulder into the open-plan office.

Nicolas stepped closer to the chest-high counter and followed the direction of Allie’s eyes.

And there she was.

His Serina, sitting behind a wide, wooden, sun-drenched desk.

His heart virtually stopped when she stood up and made her way across the room. She hadn’t lost her gorgeous figure, he noted as his gaze raked her body from head to toe. She was just the same as she’d looked at his mother’s funeral: lush and beautiful.

This time, however, she wasn’t wearing black. Far from it. Her dress was extremely bright, emerald-green with large multicoloured flowers printed around the hem of the gathered skirt. The top was sleeveless and square-necked, a wide white belt cinching in her waist, highlighting her hourglass shape. As she walked, her hair, which was slightly shorter at shoulder length, swung like a sleek dark curtain around her slender shoulders.

The only thing that had really changed was her face. It was the face of a woman now, a woman who was clearly determined not to be bowled over by an old flame hitting town. Her eyes were decidedly cool as she approached, and there was a hint of annoyance in the firm set of her lips.

‘You got here more quickly than I thought you would,’ she said.

‘I was anxious to see my home town again. Which, I might add, is looking wonderful. As are you,’ he added, and looked hard at her mouth, that same mouth that had known every inch of his body.

Her lips pressed even more firmly together. ‘You’re looking very well yourself,’ came her somewhat stiff reply. ‘Look, I’ll just get my handbag and we’ll go straight over to the school, where you can meet everyone and find out where and when you have to go tomorrow.’

‘Fine,’ he replied, not sure what to make of her impersonal manner. ‘And then we’ll drive to Port for a long lunch by the water,’ he added whilst he had her where he wanted her—in public. ‘We can catch up on old times. That’ll be all right, won’t it, girls?’ he said, smiling at Allie then at the other girl he’d spotted sitting at a desk not far from Serina’s. ‘You can cope without the boss for the rest of today, can’t you?’

‘Absolutely,’ they chorused, beaming back at him.

‘Great,’ he said, and totally ignored Serina’s scowl.

‘Your handbag?’ he prodded with a smooth smile when she just stood there, glowering at him. Sucking in sharply, she spun on her heels and stalked back to her desk.

‘I’m Emma, by the way,’ the other girl piped up during the time it took Serina to collect her bag.

She was the more attractive of the two, though Nicolas could have guaranteed that she was not a natural blonde. Her short spiked hair had decidedly brassy ends with dark roots.

‘Lovely to meet you, Emma. And you must call me Nicolas,’ he said to both of them. ‘So will you two girls be at the talent quest tomorrow afternoon?’

‘Are you kidding?’ Emma answered. ‘We wouldn’t miss it for the world. Everyone in town’s going, and quite a lot of people from the surrounding areas. Felicity’s done a great job at promotion. She printed out hundreds of fliers on her computer and she and her friends delivered them to every post-box for miles.’

‘Yes, and it cost me a small fortune in paper,’ Serina grumbled on rejoining him. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

‘See you tomorrow night, Nicolas,’Emma called after them.

‘Looking forward to it,’ he called back…

CHAPTER SIX

SERINA gritted her teeth as both of them stepped outside, steeling herself for a very difficult day.

‘I’d forgotten how hot it can get here in the summer,’ Nicolas said. ‘I should have put shorts on.’

His comment drew her gaze, not just to his trousers—which were beige and elegantly cut—but his overall appearance. He’d aged very little during the last ten years. There was no extra flab to spoil his tall lean body and only a few extra lines around his eyes and mouth. No one would believe he was almost forty. He cut the same dashing figure whom she’d faced at his mother’s funeral, and who’d once wowed the audiences at his concerts. He still wore his blond wavy hair down to his collar, she noted irritably, still had ridiculously long eyelashes and the bluest of blue eyes—eyes that had always set her heartbeat racing even when she was a young girl.

Her heart was racing now. It had started the moment he’d walked into the office.

Her automatic response to him annoyed the hell out of her. One would have thought that the years would have brought her more control—and a lot more common sense. All she could hope for was that her feelings weren’t written all over her face.

‘No need really,’ she replied crisply. ‘I presume your hire car has air-conditioning?’ She nodded towards the dark grey SUV parked opposite them.

‘Of course.’

‘Then let’s go get in,’ she suggested, her voice cool and confident but her insides anything but.

It wasn’t till they were inside the vehicle, with the engine and air-conditioning on, that she dared glance across in his direction once more. Even so she didn’t look at his face. She found her decidedly uptight gaze landing on his hands as he placed them on the steering wheel.

‘Oh, Nicolas!’ she exclaimed before she could stop herself.

‘What?’ His head jerked round, his blue eyes alarmed. ‘Your… your hand.’

‘Ah,’ he said knowingly, and lifted his left hand from the wheel, turning it this way and that as though it was a long time since he’d looked at it himself.

There was no thumb, not even a small stump, the digit having been amputated at the second knuckle. But that wasn’t all. The back of his hand was heavily scarred, the skin puckered up in places. His right hand had a few scars as well, she noted, but nothing like his left.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ he said drily, and placed it back down on the wheel, his remaining knuckles showing white when his fingers curved tightly around the rim. ‘Unfortunately, there are no compositions suitable for thumbless concert pianists. And to think I used to be able to span ten keys. But not to worry. It probably worked out for the best. The life of a concert pianist is very limited and limiting. I’ve done well enough out of my change of career.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Serina said, quickly pulling herself together and resolving not to go all mushy over him just because of his hand. ‘I saw you being interviewed on television a couple of years ago,’she went on matter-of-factly. ‘You looked very successful in your New York apartment and very prosperous.’

He gave a small laugh. ‘That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Just look at what you’ve done. Turned your dad’s rather ramshackle lumber yard into a thriving business. I can see where your daughter gets her entrepreneurial skills from.’

Serina didn’t know what to say to that. It took all her willpower not to look guilty.

The sound of her mobile phone ringing saved her from further embarrassment. Serina fished it out of her handbag and flipped it open.

‘Yes?’ she answered.

‘Has he rung yet?’ her daughter demanded to know in impatient tones. Too late, Serina remembered that Felicity had asked her to ring her as soon as she’d heard from Nicolas. Felicity had begged for her own personal mobile phone for her tenth birthday. And, being somewhat spoiled by Greg, she had got what she wanted.

‘Yes, Felicity,’ Serina said with a sigh. ‘He’s rung and he’s here in Rocky Creek and we’re on our way to the school right now. Okay? See you shortly.’ And she hung up.

Nicolas smiled over at her as he fired the engine. ‘That daughter of yours is quite a handful, isn’t she?’

‘How did you guess?’she replied frustratedly, and he laughed.

‘So,’ he said as he drove out of the car park and turned left. ‘Is the school in the same place?’

‘Yes.’

‘What? No more surprises?’

‘Maybe a few.’

‘Perhaps you should elaborate whilst I drive. Save me from having egg all over my face. Though I suspect that’s what you had in mind when you didn’t warn me over the phone how much Rocky Creek had gone ahead.’

‘Huh! I didn’t see any egg over your face back at the office. You had those girls eating out of your hand and you know it.’

He shot her a smile that curled both her toes and her heart. ‘I have learned the art of charming the ladies over the years.’

Serina was grateful that he’d reminded her in time what kind of life he’d been leading since leaving Rocky Creek. Not pining for her, that was for sure. Not even before their final but brief encounter thirteen years ago.

According to the many tabloid articles Felicity had uncovered about him on the Internet, he’d wined and dined some of the most beautiful women in show business. No doubt he’d slept with most of them as well. The Nicolas she knew would not have been living the life of a monk. Not likely!

‘I am relieved,’ she said in chilly tones. ‘Just make sure you don’t use up all that much-learned charm before tomorrow. I would hate you to turn into one of those judges who think they have to be cruel to be kind.’

Although Nicolas was slightly taken aback by her sarcasm, he was also heartened, as he had been by her obvious annoyance back at her office. She was trying very hard to be cool but her frosty politeness didn’t fool him for a minute. He could feel the sexual tension that she was desperately trying to hide. If he hadn’t had at that moment turned in to the street where the school was, he would have pulled over to the side of the road and kissed her senseless.

‘Now, as you can see,’ she went on as he drove along the tree-lined road, ‘the old school is still there. But when our enrolment trebled a few years back, the government finally built us a new school next to it that incorporates an office, several classrooms and a great big school hall, which has a decent stage and room for five hundred seats. That’s where we’re holding the talent quest.’

‘With air-conditioning?’ he inquired.

‘Of course,’ she said haughtily. ‘Gus paid for that.’

‘Gus?’ Nicolas echoed. ‘Surely you don’t mean old wino Gus.’ Old Gus had been a harmless drunk who’d slept in the sports shed and whom the kids had looked after with food, blankets and clothes.

‘Yep. Turned out he was a secret millionaire. When he died back in 2005, he left all his money to the Rocky Creek Parents’ and Citizens’Association. We don’t touch the capital, which is wisely invested. But, with the interest so far, we’ve air-conditioned the school, kitted out a great computer room, cleared some of the bush behind and built a soccer field and two netball courts. Now we’re saving up to put in a swimming pool.’

‘We? Does that mean you’re on the committee of the P and C?’

‘Of course I am,’ she told him. ‘I’m the treasurer.’

Nicolas tried not to be dismayed by her involvement with the community, but failed. The more she told him, the more he realised that nothing was going to get Serina away from Rocky Creek. She was entrenched here.

But then you knew that, didn’t you, Nick, my boy?

It was why she’d rejected you, not once, but twice. Because she preferred life here to the life you craved. Because she loved her family—and Rocky Creek—more than you.

Maybe if she’d been a childless widow, he might have stood a chance. But she wasn’t. She was a mother. Mother love, Nicolas knew from experience, was much stronger than anything he could ever evoke in her.

But alongside his dismay lay the same kind of determination with which Nicolas had always faced life and life’s challenges. He might not have any future with Serina. But no way was he going to leave Australia without holding her in his arms once more, without experiencing one more time their unique brand of chemistry—and it was unique. Nicolas had never felt anything like it. They’d once shared a stunning degree of physical intimacy and sexual pleasure that could never be forgotten. He hadn’t forgotten it and he was damned sure Serina hadn’t. She was just pretending that she had.

But he would remind her during their lunch together.

First, however, he had to get this visit to the school over and done with.

Nicolas pulled the SUV into the curb outside the school’s front gate, and stared up at the ancient sign, which said it had been established in 1870. The old school was made of wood, a rectangular building with a highpitched roof and a north-facing verandah that had pegs on the wall where the children could hang their hats and school bags. There’d only been four classrooms when he’d gone to school there, with composite classes the order of the day.

Admittedly, he’d only attended Rocky Creek primary for one year, but he hadn’t been happy there. He’d still been sulking because of their move from Sydney and he hadn’t yet discovered the joys of the piano. He recalled going on a hunger strike at one stage, giving all his food to a very grateful Gus. When no one appeared to care whether he starved or not, he started eating again.

Nicolas was not one to bash his head against a brick wall for long. Once reality sank into his head, he accepted it and moved on. Which was probably why he hadn’t pursued Serina those two times she’d rejected him. He’d actually believed her when she’d said she didn’t want him. Believed there was no point in going after her. Pride hadn’t been the only issue.

But there was wanting and wanting. Her love for him had obviously been found wanting. But what of her lust?

The speed with which she bolted out of the SUV once he’d stopped suggested she hadn’t enjoyed being alone with him in a confined space.

‘You might as well leave your bag behind,’ he suggested as he climbed out from behind the wheel and slammed the door. ‘We’re going to lunch together shortly, remember?’

Her body language showed extreme irritation with him. She clutched the bag even more tightly in her right hand and threw him what could only be described as a wintry look. ‘I don’t recall agreeing to do any such thing.’

The possibility of her not even going to lunch with him did not sit well with Nicolas. ‘It will look odd, if you don’t. Emma and Allie won’t be pleased. Neither will Felicity. What are you afraid of, Serina? That I’ll throw you across the restaurant table and have my wicked way with you right in front of everyone?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘I’m well aware that the days of my being your sexual cup of tea are long gone. This way,’ she said coldly, and marched off through the front gate and along a path that led past the old school and across to an L-shaped cream brick building sitting where the playground had once been.

An increasingly frustrated Nicolas stalked after her, grudgingly noting that the surrounds of the new Rocky Creek primary school were a credit to the P & C. Covered walkways ran everywhere, protecting the children from rain as well as the hot summer sun. The gardens and lawns were both immaculate and alive, obviously having an excellent watering system.

‘Very nice landscaping,’ he remarked.

‘Gus’s money also pays for a gardener,’ she said.

‘Good old Gus.’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic!’

‘I wasn’t,’ Nicolas denied, although he recognised his mood had shifted to a darker place, that place where he was propelled when things didn’t go his way, or when he looked like he was failing at something.

Serina stopped walking and whirled to face him, her dark eyes stormy. ‘Look, I know what you think of Rocky Creek. It’s written all over your supercilious face. No matter how much the town’s progressed, you still think of it as a backwater with nothing here to interest you. Which is absolutely true. We don’t have an opera house or theatres galore, or mansions full of the rich and famous who hold dinner parties every day of the week. We don’t have expensive art galleries, museums or designer boutiques. We certainly don’t have super highways where you can drive at two hundred kilometres an hour in your two-hundred-thousand-dollar sports cars. What we do have, however, is people who care about each other. People who are loving and loyal, people who look after each other when times are tough and who are prepared to make sacrifices. Who don’t always think of their own selfish selves!’

Nicolas stood there, stunned by the savagery of Serina’s tirade.

She seemed a little stunned herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last, if a little grudgingly. ‘I guess that was rude of me. The thing is, Nicolas, I just don’t understand why you agreed to come all this way for a silly little talent quest. Other than your brief visit when your mum died, you haven’t darkened the doorstep of Rocky Creek for over twenty years!’

He looked deep into her eyes and ached to tell her the truth.

I came because I still want you, Serina. Because I wanted to make love to you again. I came because I just couldn’t stay away, not once I knew you weren’t married anymore.

But it wasn’t the right time, or the right place. It might never be the right time, or the right place, he realised grimly. Not if she felt this viciously about him.

‘I came,’ he said instead, quite truthfully as well, ‘because of your daughter’s very touching letter.’

And, right on cue, Felicity came flying down the path towards them.

Nicolas knew she was Felicity because it was like seeing Serina at that age, so great was the resemblance.

‘You’re here!’ Felicity squealed as only a twelve-year-old girl can squeal. She didn’t stop there, either, literally throwing herself against him so hard that he lurched backwards a step.

‘Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!’ she blurted, hugging him tightly around the waist before abruptly disengaging herself and throwing him a sheepish look from under her long lashes. ‘Sorry. I get a bit carried away sometimes. Don’t I, Mum… ?’

CHAPTER SEVEN

SERINA would have loved to turn tail and run at that point. It had already been getting to be too much for her, seeing Nicolas again. That had been why she’d let fly at him just now, because she’d needed some outlet for the tension building inside her.

Serina had expected today to be difficult. And she’d been right. But nothing had prepared her for what she’d just witnessed.

Seeing her daughter hug her biological father had produced a mixture of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Perversely, she almost felt jealous of Felicity. How she would love to hug Nicolas with such unashamed delight! At the same time a great wave of guilt twisted at her insides. She should never have passed Felicity off as Greg’s daughter. Never! She should have told the truth from the start. Instead, she’d locked herself into a secret that was going to crucify her now till her dying days.

Because she’d seen the flash of joy in Nicolas’s face when his daughter had wrapped her arms tightly around him, seen the gently indulgent way he’d smiled down at her. He was still smiling at her.

The unexpected realisation that Nicolas might have been a good father to Felicity was shattering.

But it was too late now. It had been too late from the moment she’d walked down that church aisle with Greg all those years ago. Her secret had to continue. Because in Felicity’s mind, Greg Harmon was her father, not Nicolas. She’d loved Greg, and she loved Greg’s parents—they were her adored Nanna and Pop. No, the secret had to be kept.

She had to pull herself together and not act like some guilt-ridden, broken-hearted fool, even if what she wanted to do was fall in a crumpled heap on this path and cry.

Amazing what a mother could endure when faced with the possibility of her child’s unhappiness. So Serina found a smile from somewhere and a voice that sounded close to normal.

‘There’s nothing wrong with being enthusiastic, Felicity,’ she said. ‘But it might be wise not to be too familiar with Mr Dupre. Otherwise people might say there’s favouritism if you come first in the talent quest tomorrow night.’

Too late Serina wished she hadn’t brought up that subject.

‘I’ve already thought of that,’ Felicity returned. ‘So I’ve decided not to enter.’

‘I think that’s a wise decision,’ Serina said, hiding her relief behind a genuinely warm smile.

‘But I was looking forward to hearing you play,’ Nicolas protested.