The Midwife's Child. Sarah Morgan

noticed her almost straight away, leaning against one of the pillars in the ballroom, her black hair bubbling down her bare back, her eyes fixed on the people dancing. He’d watched curiously as man after man had approached her and been turned away. And then she’d moved her head and had seen him, those beautiful coal black eyes widening as they’d fixed on his, her chin lifting slightly as if daring him to approach her. Which he had, of course, partly because she’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, and partly because her aloofness had represented a challenge and he’d never been able to resist a challenge.

      And after that—

      He sighed. ‘We didn’t bother with names.’

      ‘I see.’ Tom rubbed his chin to hide the smile and shook his head in disbelief. ‘It must have been some night…’

      Jed’s shoulders tensed. It had been incredible, but he didn’t expect his playboy brother to begin to understand that. Even he didn’t understand the way he felt so how could he expect his brother to? ‘I suppose it never occurred to me that she’d run.’

      ‘Yeah, that must have been a first.’ Tom’s voice was dry and Jed turned with a frown.

      ‘Meaning?’

      Tom rolled his eyes and lounged back in his chair. ‘Has anyone run from you before? No. Normally they’re beating your door down. So maybe you scared her or something. Or maybe she just found you repulsive.’

      ‘I didn’t scare her.’ Or maybe he had. He frowned. The intensity of feeling between them had been so overwhelming it had knocked him for six. Maybe it had frightened her, too. After all, she’d never— ‘She certainly didn’t find me repulsive.’

      ‘Well, she didn’t stick around for more, did she?’ Tom hesitated, his dark eyes fixed on his brother. ‘I hate to be the one to point out the obvious, but if she’d wanted you to find her, she would have left her number. Women don’t just disappear if they want to be found. Maybe she wasn’t really interested.’

      There was a long silence and then Jed took a deep breath, still not looking at his brother. ‘She was interested.’

      ‘Then why did she sneak off?’

      ‘Dammit, I don’t know.’ Jed thumped his fist on the glass and closed his eyes briefly. ‘I don’t know. But it wasn’t anything to do with us. It was something else. She was very secretive and wary—’

      ‘She was probably married.’ Tom’s voice was dry but a strange look crossed Jed’s handsome face and he shook his head.

      ‘No. Definitely not that.’

      Tom watched him curiously and then shrugged. ‘How do you know? She might have been leading you a dance and—’

      ‘She wasn’t married.’ Jed’s voice was steady and his eyes glittered with a strange light. There was no way she could have been married. That was one of the few things he did know about her.

      ‘Right.’ Tom cleared his throat and decided not to pursue it. ‘Well, if she wasn’t married, maybe it just wasn’t right—’

      ‘We were perfect together, Tom.’

      Tom muttered under his breath and leaned forward in his chair, urging his brother to see sense. ‘One night, Jed. Get a grip, man! It was the romance of it all—the mistletoe, the Christmas-tree lights, snow on the ground. It wasn’t real.’

      Jed stared out into the darkness and remembered the laughter, the warmth and the passion. He remembered a girl with wild dark hair and bright sharp eyes, an intriguing mixture of fire and innocence. It had been the most amazing night of his life.

      ‘Oh, it was real,’ he murmured. ‘And I’m going to find her.’

      ‘I don’t suppose she dropped a glass slipper in your flat? You could try it on all the women in the infirmary, starting with the really ugly ones…’ Tom caught the look on his brother’s face and lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘OK, OK. I’m sorry. I was just trying to cheer you up.’

      ‘If your wit was an indication of your brain size, your patients would be in big trouble.’ Jed strode over and stood in front of him, his dark eyes gleaming with purpose. ‘I’ve got to find her! Ask again. Ask everyone.’

      ‘OK.’ Tom frowned and shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s gaze. ‘I’ll do my best. Back off, will you? If you glared at her like that it’s no wonder she ran off.’

      ‘Sorry.’ Jed closed his eyes briefly and raked both hands through his hair. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m desperate. I won’t give up, Tom.’

      ‘So I see. OK, I’ll keep asking.’ He glanced at his brother, his eyes narrowed. ‘She must have been one very special lady.’

      ‘Oh, she was.’ Jed’s voice was soft. ‘She was.’

       CHAPTER ONE

      SHE was in big trouble.

      Glancing at her watch with a mew of panic, Brooke careered through the pelting rain across the hospital car park, dodging puddles and pedestrians as she made a dash for the sanctuary of the hospital.

      Why was her life always like this? Why? Her umbrella wavered threateningly in the strong wind and she flung a breathless apology at a pedestrian who gave her a nervous look and a wide berth. Why, for once, couldn’t things have gone smoothly? Just for one day, surely life could have been kind? What had she ever done to deserve the repeated obstacles that were delivered at her door?

      First the heating, then the roof and now the car. What next?

      Breathless and soaked, she shouldered her way through the revolving doors of the maternity unit, and the sudden warmth of the foyer made her pause and catch her breath.

      Please, please, let the day improve, she pleaded to no one in particular as she took the lift to the third floor and attempted a first-aid job on her hair which fell in a damp, tangled mass halfway down her back. Twisting it firmly, she rummaged in her pocket for some pins and fastened it securely in a knot at the back of her head, hoping that it would hold until lunchtime.

      In the sanctuary of the staffroom, she stripped off her wet clothes and changed into the comfortable blue cotton trousers and tunic top that everyone wore on the labour ward.

      ‘I’m really, really sorry, folks…’ Flustered and out of breath, she paused by the door of the office where everyone from the early shift was gathered. ‘I had some problems.’

      ‘You don’t need to explain.’ Sister Wilson’s voice was full of humour and sympathy. ‘We saw you getting off the bus and sprinting across the car park. I gather that joke of a contraption that you call a car failed you again.’

      Brooke nodded and bit her lip. ‘It’s the rain, I think. It hates rain—’

      ‘And cold and heat,’ one of the midwives interrupted with a laugh. ‘Face it, Brooke, it’s on its last legs. You’d better ask Father Christmas for another one.’

      It was only March and most of her problems were way beyond the touch of Father Christmas, Brooke thought gloomily, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

      ‘I’ll get an earlier bus tomorrow.’ Dropping into a vacant chair, she glanced at the board to see how busy they were and her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘We’re full again?’

      ‘To the point of bursting.’ Gill Wilson stood up, suddenly businesslike. ‘And Antenatal have got two in early labour as well so we’re in for a good day. Brooke, I’ve allocated Paula the lady in Room 2, but as she’s still a student she obviously can’t take full responsibility so I’d like you to supervise. The lady’s name is Alison Neal and she’s a thirty-year-old primip and very anxious. Perhaps you should have five minutes with her on your own before Paula