LITMIR.BIZ

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think?’ and then closed the door.

      Sapphie unbuckled Harry’s capsule and climbed out too, met Liam’s eyes across the roof of the car. ‘It’s never too late to take other people’s feelings into consideration.’

      He stilled, but with the sun in her face, and the brim of his hat shading his, she couldn’t see his expression let alone try and decipher it.

      Before he could make any answer, an older woman—in her fifties, Sapphie guessed—came bustling out from the house. ‘Did my wools arrive?’ She pulled up short when she saw Sapphie.

      ‘Beattie, this is Sapphie Thomas and Harry.’ He glanced at Sapphie, but not at Harry. ‘They’ve come to stay…for a bit.’

      Sapphie gulped. For a bit. She hadn’t thought how long this might take. As usual she’d leapt into action without thinking it through properly. But whenever she stopped to think things through—big things—she froze. Like she was doing now with Anna and Lea. She couldn’t afford to freeze where Harry was concerned.

      She glanced down at him and he lifted his arms to her. Perhaps surrounded by strangers he now saw her as his only ally. ‘Oh, Harry,’ she whispered. How could she tell him he was putting his faith in the wrong person? She wanted to weep for him.

      She lifted him out, cuddled him close.

      Liam gestured. ‘This is Mrs Beatson—the housekeeper here at Newarra.’

      She pasted on a bright smile when the older woman started across the lawn. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Beatson.’

      ‘Call me Beattie, my dear, everyone does. Mrs Beatson was my mother, God rest her. It’s lovely to have visitors.’ Her eyes lit up when they landed on Harry. ‘Ooh, and you’ve brought a littlie—what fun!’

      But as she reached out a hand to Harry he threw his face into Sapphie’s neck with a cry. Sapphie wanted to apologise, but she didn’t get a chance. With a sympathetic tsk-tsk, Mrs Beatson murmured, ‘Poor little tyke. He’s all worn out.’ And she promptly set about abusing Liam for keeping Harry and Sapphie standing in the sun for so long.

      Sapphie only had time to grab the bag containing Harry’s essentials before Mrs Beatson had taken her arm and was propelling her up the path towards the house. ‘Oh, but shouldn’t we help unload the car?’

      ‘Nonsense, dear, it’s what men have muscles for.’

      That made Sapphie grin. All the same, she turned back to glance at Liam.

      ‘Beattie will show you to your room.’ His lips twisted. ‘Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.’

      With a quiet nod, she turned and followed the housekeeper.

      She let out a sigh of pure pleasure when they crossed the threshold. ‘Oh, Mrs Beatson—Beattie.’ She corrected herself at the housekeeper’s frown. ‘What a lovely home.’

      Dark waxed floorboards and antique furniture greeted them, the dim shade a distinct relief after the glare of the sun outside. An overriding sense of peace and calm stole over her. It was ridiculous, she knew, but it felt as if nothing bad could happen in such a lovely place.

      ‘It’s so…big!’

      ‘It is at that.’ Beattie chuckled.

      Sapphie swallowed as she followed the housekeeper into the kitchen—state of the art. Beattie set a kettle on to boil.

      Sapphie moistened her lips. ‘It’s way too big for one person. Does Liam live here all by himself?’

      ‘He does at the moment, dear.’ Beattie turned pensive. ‘This is the family home, mind, so the rest of the family all have rooms here, but they haven’t visited in a while. At Christmas it can get quite rowdy, but…well, not last Christmas.’

      Before Sapphie could ask why, Beattie beckoned to a door off to the left.

      ‘Those are my rooms down there if you need to find me. Now, let’s get you and this little man here settled.’

      She led Sapphie down a long corridor—more waxed floorboards, softened by a Persian carpet runner in burgundy. She threw open a door at the end to reveal a beautifully appointed room with moulded cornices and French doors leading out to the shade of the veranda.

      ‘And here’s the attached nursery,’ Beattie said, leading her through an adjoining doorway.

      ‘Oh!’ Sapphie turned on the spot. Everything she and Harry could possibly want, even down to an antique wooden rocking horse, was here. ‘It’s lovely.’

      Beattie gave a satisfied sigh. ‘This nursery has seen four generations of Stapleton children. Liam and Belinda had it redecorated.’

      ‘Umm…Belinda?’

      Beattie shook her head. ‘Sorry, dear, I’m prattling on, aren’t I? We haven’t had visitors in an age and I’ve forgotten how to act.’ Her voice lowered a notch. ‘Belinda was Liam’s wife. They divorced a few years back. He’s a good man. He didn’t deserve that.’ She stared at Harry and her smile broadened again. ‘Oh, my, but it warms the heart to have a child in the house again, let me tell you. And don’t you worry, dear. Nobody will disturb you down this end of the house. Liam hasn’t visited these rooms since—’

      She broke off. Sapphie had to bite her tongue to stop from asking Since when?

      ‘You’ll have to excuse an old woman’s ramblings. ’

      ‘There’s nothing to excuse,’ Sapphie said with a determined smile and a shake of her head.

      ‘Now, the bathroom is just down the hall. And don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Beattie disappeared, leaving Sapphie and Harry alone. And it suddenly occurred to Sapphie that not only was Liam not Harry’s father, but he no longer had a wife either, which meant he was a single man.

      Her mouth went dry. She eyed the phone on the bedside table, bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk to Anna—not yet, not after everything she’d just found out. But for safety’s sake someone needed to know where she and Harry were.

      She hauled in a breath and forced herself to pick up the receiver. As long as she didn’t have to look Anna in the eye, she should be able to lie convincingly enough. If Anna sensed that something was wrong, Sapphie could simply say she was worried about Harry and Emmy. Which was the truth. In part.

      Sapphie bathed Harry and dressed him in clean clothes. He didn’t exactly co-operate, but he didn’t fight her either.

      She tried telling herself it was an improvement, a step forward for little Harry. Common sense told her he was just too tired at the moment to kick up a fuss.

      She had to find his father. She had to find someone who could look after him properly and give him everything he needed. She had to remove herself from his world before he started to rely on her…before she tainted him too. She wasn’t the kind of woman who should be trusted with the care of a child.

      A lump lodged in her throat as she stared at him. He was so little. He was such an innocent. And he didn’t deserve any of this! Longing welled through her. She did what she could to banish it.

      With a gulp, she kicked herself back into action—showered in double-quick time, pulled on clean clothes, and then towel-dried her hair, tugged a comb through it. Neat, tidy, clean—that was all the occasion called for.

      She started towards Harry, who lay in the middle of the queen-sized bed. She pulled up short, bit her lip, cast a glance at the door. Not the smallest spark of sexual interest had lightened Liam’s eyes when they’d rested on her. Not at the airstrip. Not in the car. And she’d like to keep it that way.

      She pulled a cotton sweater from her suitcase, tugged it on over her head. She adjusted the long sleeves,

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