The Midwife's Child

By Sarah Morgan

A brilliant new consultant joining a busy Obs and Gynae unit should be good news – except Jed Matthews is the last person Brooke Daniels wants to see again. Her shock at coming face to face with the man who ha brought her body and soul to life for one magical night six years ago pales beside the realization that Jed is eventually going to discover her secret. Brooke had her reasons for disappearing, but will Jed ever understand them – especially when he meets her young son, Toby....?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jun 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781488742088

Sarah Morgan

USA Today bestselling author Sarah Morgan writes lively, sexy contemporary stories for Harlequin. Romantic Times has described her as 'a magician with words' and nominated her books for their Reviewer's Choice Awards and their 'Top Pick' slot. In 2012 Sarah received the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America. She lives near London with her family. Find out more at www.sararahmorgan.co

Book preview

PROLOGUE

‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you can’t find her?’

Jed paced the floor angrily, his hands thrust into the pockets of his white coat as he glowered at his brother. ‘Think, man! It’s your hospital, for goodness’ sake. You trained there, you know everyone. You must know who she is. Concentrate!’

‘It’s not concentration I need, it’s information,’ Tom pointed out mildly. ‘Jed, be reasonable. What have you given me to go on? All you can say is that you don’t think she’s a doctor. No name, no age, no nothing! You don’t even know she works in my hospital!’

‘Of course she works in your hospital.’ Jed stopped pacing and frowned impatiently. ‘Why else would she have been at the Christmas Ball?’

‘She could have been someone’s guest. Did you think of that? You were my guest, remember? You don’t work there…’ Tom watched his brother’s face and then shook his head slowly. ‘How on earth did you get the highest marks ever recorded at your medical school? For someone of supposed exceptional intelligence, you’re being remarkably slow in your thinking.’

‘She wasn’t anyone’s guest.’ Jed stared out of the ward office window to the bustling London street twenty-eight floors below.

‘How do you know?’

Jed shrugged and shook his head slowly. ‘Something she said…’

‘Oh, you did manage some sort of conversation, then.’ Tom’s lazy drawl was loaded with sarcasm and Jed turned, his handsome face set as he glared at his brother.

‘This is a joke to you, isn’t it?’

‘Well, no, not a joke exactly.’ Tom shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s penetrating stare. ‘But even you have to appreciate the irony of the situation.’

Jed gritted his teeth and his eyes narrowed. ‘I do?’

‘Oh, come on, Jed!’ Tom leaned back in his chair and risked a grin. ‘All your life you’ve had women tripping over each other to get to you. Now, at last, we discover that there is, in fact, at least one woman in the world who can resist your charms. It gives the rest of us poor mortals some hope. Maybe she doesn’t go for the tough, macho sort. You could loosen up a little, you know—’

‘Unless you want to find out just how macho and tough I can be, you should give it a rest,’ his brother said dryly, turning back to stare out of the window. ‘I thought you knew everyone in this hospital.’

‘I know everyone worth knowing,’ Tom agreed, helping himself to the last biscuit from a packet abandoned on the low coffee-table. ‘And, believe me, your mystery woman doesn’t work here.’

Jed made an impatient sound. ‘You don’t know—’

‘Hear me out, will you?’ Tom lobbed the empty biscuit packet into the bin and gave his brother an injured look. ‘I’ve made discreet enquiries and turned up nothing, but that’s hardly surprising, considering the dearth of information you gave me to go on. I tell you this, if I ever give up medicine I will not be setting up as a private detective.’

He rummaged in his pocket and retrieved a crumpled piece of paper. ‘Here we are. This was the doctors’ ball, remember, and according to my sources there were only eight tickets sold to non-medical staff—the tickets were like gold dust. Because I’m the best brother in the world and I’m intrigued to see you seriously smitten for the first time in your life, I’ve tracked down each one of those eight individuals and had a good look at them. Three of them were blonde and three of them had short hair so that rules them out. No way did they match the description of your girl.’

Jed was watching him intently. ‘What about the other two?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up.’ His brother shook his head dolefully. ‘One of them is Annie Foster, that gorgeous sister on ITU who I went out with for two months, so we know it’s not her. And the last one doesn’t even remotely match the description you gave me, so unless you were seeing her through rose-tinted glasses your girl doesn’t exist.’

Jed stiffened and a muscle worked in his jaw, ‘She definitely exists and you know I don’t wear glasses, rose-tinted or otherwise.’

‘Well, there’s your answer!’ Tom grinned cheekily and tossed the paper at his brother. ‘You’re eyesight’s going and you couldn’t see her properly. She probably wasn’t dark and stunning with legs like a gazelle at all, she was dumpy, mousy and plain. So she could be number eight.’

Jed leaned broad shoulders against the wall, his tone deceptively mild. ‘Have I ever warned you that your sense of humour is life-threatening?’

‘My life or yours?’ Tom caught the look in his brother’s eye and subsided rapidly. ‘Sorry, sorry. Look, are you sure she wasn’t a doctor?’

Jed pulled a face. ‘No, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything at all. I just got the impression that she did something else.’

‘Well, that narrows it down,’ Tom drawled sarcastically. ‘Nurse, cleaner, radiographer, physiotherapist—the options are truly limited. Can’t you give me anything else to go on? I mean, why on earth didn’t you get her name? How could you whisper sweet nothings if you didn’t know her name?’

Jed turned away again, his eyes scanning the streetlights glowing far below as he remembered that night.

He’d 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 joins you. You’re normally very good with panickers.’

‘Of course.’ A primip—an abbreviation for primigravida, someone having their first baby—often needed more support and reassurance than a woman who’d been through it all before, and was usually in labour for much longer.

‘Suzie…’ Gill Wilson turned to another midwife. ‘Can you run between 4 and 5 for me and supervise the students? Diane can sort out the admissions and Helen can take the lady in room one. Oh, and by the way, things are looking up here. The new consultant started yesterday and the new senior reg starts in a few weeks so at least the medical staff won’t be so stretched.’

‘What’s the consultant like?’ Brooke draped her stethoscope round her neck and straightened her tunic.

‘First class.’ Gill Wilson nodded with satisfaction. ‘We’re very lucky to have him.’

One of the midwives gave a sigh. ‘Just tell us he isn’t a meddler. We don’t need another consultant like—’

‘Now, now,’ Gill interrupted briskly, a faint frown touching her forehead. ‘No need to name names. He’s left and it’s history and, no, Jed Matthews isn’t at all like that. He’s an incredibly talented obstetrician who thinks that women should do it by themselves whenever they can. I dare say you’ll meet him later but I think he’ll support our philosophy to the hilt.’

‘Well, that’s one bit of good news, then.’ Brooke stood up and tucked her pen and notebook into her pocket, falling into step beside her friend Suzie as they walked down the corridor.

Suzie gave her a sympathetic look. ‘You OK?’

‘Are you joking?’ Brooke rolled her eyes. ‘When was my life ever OK?’

‘What’s happening about the roof?’

‘I’ve got a man coming to see it on Saturday but at the moment I’m just using a bucket and lots of hope.’

Suzie pulled a face and looked worried. ‘This rain can’t last for ever.’

‘This is the Lake District so it can and, knowing my luck, it probably will,’ Brooke said dryly as they paused outside the door of Room 2. ‘But thanks for asking.’

Suzie nodded and hesitated. ‘Look, if you need a loan…’

‘No, thanks.’ Brooke stiffened and her small chin lifted slightly. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Brooke, for goodness’ sake!’ Suzie glanced along the corridor and lowered her voice ‘You’re not fine at all and you know it! You’re struggling like mad and it’s time you let someone help you.’

‘I don’t need help.’ Brooke’s tone was frosty and Suzie looked exasperated.

‘You’re so stubborn, do you know that? How will you pay for the roof?’

Brooke shrugged. ‘That’s my problem.’ One of the many. ‘I’ll do some agency work or something.’

‘Brooke—’

‘I’ll handle it.’ Brooke’s eyes glinted with determination and, without waiting for a reply, she shouldered her way into Room 2 and beamed at the woman sitting on the bed.

‘Hello, Mrs Neal. I’m Brooke Daniels, one of the midwives on the unit.’ She took one look at the wide, frightened eyes of the young woman in front of her and forced her own problems to the back of her mind, knowing that she had some serious work to do.

‘Could you call me Alison?’ The woman looked terrified. ‘It seems more…personal somehow. I hate anything medical.’

‘Try not to think of this as medical,’ Brooke advised gently. ‘Having a baby is perfectly natural and in this unit our policy is to intervene as little as possible.’

‘Is that why this room doesn’t look a bit like a hospital room?’ Alison glanced round at the pretty curtains and bedspread and the comfortable sofa and beanbags. ‘It’s more like being at home.’

‘Actually, it’s better than home,’ her husband pointed out dryly.