A Bride and Child Worth Waiting For. Marion Lennox

and we need to leave now.’

      ‘It’s only four now,’ Jill said, startled. ‘What’s the rush?’

      ‘We need to get changed,’ Charles said. ‘And we need to get into town before the jeweller shuts. I’ve never been engaged before and if we’re going to do this…Jill, let’s do this in style.’

      He wouldn’t listen to her objections. She didn’t need a ring. She didn’t need…marriage.

      What was she doing?

      Jill stood in her bare little bedroom and gazed into her wardrobe with a sense of helplessness. She was going out to dinner with Charles. She should wear clean jeans and a neat white shirt.

      ‘A dress,’ Charles called from his bedroom, and she winced.

      A dress. The outfit she’d bought for the weddings?

      It was an occupational hazard, working in Crocodile Creek, she thought ruefully. So many young medics came here to work that romance was inevitable. They’d had, what, eight weddings in the last year? So much so that the locals laughingly referred to the doctors’ house as the Wedding Chapel.

      She’d never lived in the doctors’ house. She valued her independence too much.

      What was she doing?

      She wanted Lily. It was like an ache. From the time she’d held her, the night her parents had been killed, her heart had gone out to the little girl. Even Lily’s fierce independence, the way she held herself just slightly aloof from affection… Jill could understand it and respect it.

      ‘Dress?’ Charles called again, and she smiled. He was as bossy as she was. But not…autocratic. Never violent. She’d seen him in some pretty stressful situations. There’d been a family feud. His brother had been responsible for his injury, yet his father had vented his fury on Charles. He’d considered his injured son useless.

      Charles had never railed against the unfairness of fate. He’d taken his share of a vast inheritance—a share which his father hadn’t legally been able to keep from him—and he’d proceeded to set up this medical base. He’d funnelled his anger and his frustration into good.

      He deserved…

      A dress.

      OK. She tugged her only dress from its hanger—a creamy silk sliver of a frock that hugged her figure, that draped in a cowl collar low around her breasts, no sleeves, a classy garment Gina had bullied her into for Kate and Hamish’s wedding. She slipped it on, and then tugged her hair from its customary elastic band.

      Her glossy chestnut curls had once been a source of pride. She brushed them now. They fell to her shoulders. She looked younger this way, she thought as she stared into the mirror. There was no grey in her hair yet.

      She was a woman about to choose her engagement ring…

      It was nonsense. She shoved her feet into sandals, grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

      And stopped and returned to the mirror.

      She stared at her reflection for a long moment, then sighed and grabbed a compact and swiped powder over her freckles. She put on lipstick that had been used, what, eight times for eight weddings?

      Hers would be the ninth?

      ‘It’s nonsense,’ she whispered, but as she put the lid back on her lipstick she caught sight of her reflection and paused.

      ‘Not too bad for thirty-seven,’ she whispered. ‘And you’re going to marry Charles.’

      It was a sensible option. But…Charles.

      She couldn’t quite suppress a quiver of excitement. He really was…

      ‘Just Charles,’ she said to herself firmly. ‘Medical director of Croc Creek. Your boss.

      ‘Your husband?

      ‘Get real,’ she told her reflection. She stuck her tongue out at herself, grinned and went to meet her fiancé.

      He liked it. She emerged from her bedroom and Charles was waiting. His eyes crinkled in the way she loved.

      ‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘What’s the occasion? An engagement or something?’

      Charles had made an effort, too. He was wearing casual cream trousers and a soft, cream, open-necked shirt. Quality stuff. Clothes that made him look even sexier than he usually did.

      He hadn’t lost muscle mass, as many paraplegics did, Jill thought. His injury could almost be classified as cauda equina rather than complete paraplegia—a damage to the nerves at the base of his spine. He pushed himself, standing every day, forcing his legs to retain some strength. It’d be much easier to stay in the wheelchair but that had never been Charles’s way—taking the easy option.

      He was great, she thought. The most fantastic boss…

      But a husband?

      ‘Lily’s OK?’ she asked.

      ‘Settled at Cal and Gina’s.’

      Her face clouded. ‘You know, I wish—’

      ‘That she wasn’t quite as happy to go to strangers,’ he said softly. ‘I know. It’s what Wendy says. Tom’s right in a way. She needs permanence. Even commitment. That’s what we’re doing now. Let’s go buy us an engagement ring.’

      The jeweller was obsequious, eager and shocked. He tried to usher them into the door, tugging Charles’s wheelchair sideways in an unnecessary effort to help, and came close to upending him in the process. By the time Charles extricated himself from his unwelcome aid, the man had realised the potential of his customers.

      ‘Well,’ he said as he tugged out trays of his biggest diamonds. ‘Never did I think I’d have the pleasure of selling an engagement ring to the medical director of Crocodile Creek. And you a Wetherby. I sold an engagement ring to your brother. He runs the farm now, doesn’t he? Such a shame about your accident. Not that you haven’t done very well for yourself. A healthy man could hardly have done more. You’re still a Wetherby, though, sir. Now, your brother purchased a one and a half carat diamond when he got engaged. If you’d warned me… I don’t have anything near that quality at the moment, but if you’d like to choose a style, I can have a selection flown in tomorrow. As big as you like,’ he said expansively. ‘You’re a lucky lady, miss.’

      ‘Yes,’ Jill said woodenly. The way the jeweller looked at Charles was patronising, she thought. She’d spent enough time with Charles to pick up on the way people talked to him. This guy was doing it wrong. He was talking to Charles but keeping eye contact with her. He was making her know he was being kind to the guy in the wheelchair. And the way Charles had looked when he’d mentioned his brother…

      She hated this shop. She hated these ostentatious diamonds. How big was the man saying this diamond should be?

      Would Charles like her to have a bigger diamond than his brother’s wife?

      ‘What would you like, Jill?’ Charles asked gently, and she shook herself out of her anger and tried to make a choice. She had to do this.

      ‘Any diamond’s fine,’ she said. ‘I guess….however big you want.’

      ‘However big I want?’

      He was quizzing her. He had this ability to figure what she thought almost before she thought it herself. The ability scared her.

      Maybe Charles scared her.

      ‘You don’t really want a diamond, do you?’ he said.

      ‘If you think—’

      ‘I don’t think,’ he said with another flash of irritation. ‘It’s you who gets to wear the thing. Some of these rings are really….’

      ‘Ostentatious?’ she said before she could help herself, and Charles’s face relaxed. He smiled wryly,