The Midwife's Secret, page 1
“My mother’s not here, Dr. McPherson.”
“I haven’t come to see your mother.” Sinclair’s voice was casual as he brushed past her. “You’ll really have to practice your door greetings, Scarlet. Your welcome lacks a certain warmth.”
She was warm, all right! She willed herself to relax and perched on the settee farthest from him. “Your visit is inappropriate. I’m a married woman.”
“Are you?”
Her heart thumped and she shot a look at him. “What did you say?”
“Did your mother mention I spent some time with Cameron?” Sinclair asked.
Scarlet’s heart thumped again. “In passing she did.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “So?”
Sinclair stared back at her blandly. “He’s a fine boy. Don’t you think he’s handsome? Like me?” His question dropped onto her without warning and she jumped off the settee as if scalded.
“Cameron?” Her mind went blank and she couldn’t think of what to say. “He looks just like his father.”
Dear Reader,
When I envisaged this book it was that first scene that came to mind: Scarlet’s final, crazy, amazing moment before birth—and then in walks the man responsible—and he thinks she’s just another patient.
The Midwife’s Secret is something Scarlet must carry. The new Scarlet is determined not to be overawed by sexy Dr. McPherson ever again—look where that landed her! For Sinclair, he can’t believe this woman has come back into his life. And he can see that Scarlet doesn’t want him there. So sparks and passion fly as Sinclair tries to woo his elusive midwife and her baby.
Last year, fierce storms marooned my own hero and me for three days at the Look Out Motor Inn, and I felt this was the perfect setting for those two strong characters to decide their future.
I hope you enjoy The Midwife’s Secret and I’d love to hear from you. You can find me at my Web site: www.fionamcarthur.com.
Warm regards,
Fiona McArthur
The Midwife’s Secret
Fiona McArthur
To my mother—the adventurer—with all my love.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
DR SINCLAIR MCPHERSON glanced down into the smoky depths of the bar with a grimace.
Wine bar nightlife was something he didn’t often make the effort to investigate, but he had to stay over for the next day’s medical presentation anyway.
He should have driven back to Southside. One of the local obstetricians had made the music here sound promising, but Sinclair wasn’t so sure he needed the lung cancer.
The bar was crowded and noisy when he descended and he almost returned to his motel television but then the music started up again.
The haunting wail of a lone saxophone infiltrated his irritation with gossamer fingers the way sirens pulled ships to the rocks. But the real siren was oblivious to his presence as she stood in the far corner under an overhead spotlight.
Her body swayed in a slinky red dress, while her glorious copper hair floated in a thick cloud around her head. He could feel the music vibrating in his veins and shook his head to break the spell. It didn’t work. She seduced the saxophone and Sinclair with her eyes closed.
She seemed vaguely familiar, and his brow creased as he tried to place where he’d seen her, then he shrugged. She embodied every fantasy that he’d held of the perfect woman—and that made her an old friend.
Sinclair eased to the bottom of the stairs and leant on the rail to drink in the sound and sight of her. He couldn’t look away, and even tried closing his eyes, but her image was still there, burning in his brain.
People pushed past him and he restrained the urge to tell the chatterers to shut up and listen.
When she finished the notes drifted away on the chatter and he sighed. The spell was broken.
His hand reconnected to his body and released his grip on the rail. Wryly, Sinclair shook the tingling out of his fingers as she stepped down from the stage.
Her smile was like sunlight in the dimness of the bar and she continued to sway to some inner beat as she moved towards a boisterous table at the side of the room. Unable to stop himself, he cut through the crush towards her.
Unexpectedly, a drunken reveller’s hand landed on her shoulder to detain her and Sinclair’s response to the sight surged up irresistibly like a kick in the gut. Close enough, he stepped forward and between them so that the wine-saturated breath of the drunk blew in his face instead of hers. One hundred per cent alcoholic garlic. Sinclair coughed and turned his head to look down at her, his smile quizzical. ‘Would you like this gentleman to leave you alone?’
Eyes wide and voice husky with confusion, she turned to him with relief. ‘Yes, please.’
Sinclair glared into the unfocussed eyes below him. ‘Sorry, friend. You’re not welcome.’ Even in his alcoholic haze the drunk backed off.
Sinclair watched the man stagger away for a moment before looking back at her. Then the vision laughed up at him and he felt the bands around his heart expand along with the silly smile on his face.
‘A he-man? I haven’t seen that side of you, Dr McPherson.’ Her voice was deliciously playful and it was a moment before he realised she knew his name. Then, like a light switch flicking on inside his head, he knew where he’d seen her. She was one of the quieter midwives at Southside—Sister Robin—but he’d never seen a glimpse of this side of her.
Sinclair clamped his lips together to stop his mouth falling open. He probably saw the woman briefly several times a week but he couldn’t remember a non-patient-related conversation with her.
‘I’m sorry. Letty Robin, isn’t it? I didn’t recognise you.’ Great comeback, McPherson, he chided himself. But she still had him stunned. He’d never have believed it. The mouse? He couldn’t relate the painfully shy woman—well, he’d always assumed she was shy—with the vibrant vision in front of him.
‘Scarlet, are you OK?’ The rest of her party, more musicians or hippies by the look of them, surged around her. Sinclair allowed himself to be swept with them back to their table, still bemused by the strength of his reaction to someone he worked with. He strained his memory for the last time they’d spoken, and the only visual memories he could come up with seemed to be of him talking to the bun on the top of her head. He must have been asleep for the last few years. Maybe it was all a strange dream but he didn’t want to bypass a second of it. He frowned. Why did they call her Scarlet?
He asked her once they’d sat down, her by his side.
‘Letty is short for Scarlet and these friends have always called me that,’ she shouted over the din. ‘We’ve jammed together a long time, but not in public.’ Her eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘We’ve just made our own CD. The local music shop has sold a whole six copies.’
He grinned back at her delight. ‘That’s an occasion.’
‘It’s also my birthday, and tonight they arranged for me to play in public to get the feel of it.’
‘Happy birthday. So how did it feel to be up there?’ He couldn’t look away as she swallowed what looked like apple cider in a soothing draught and relaxed back in the chair.
Her lips were soft and shiny and eminently kissable. He felt like picking up her glass and pressing his own lips to the spot where her mouth had been. Or, better still, those lips. Then she spoke again and he dragged his gaze back to her eyes.
‘Performing live is scary. And not something I want to do on a regular basis. But I’m breaking out tonight.’ She smiled that broad-daylight sunbeam right at him and for the first time he wished he could play a musical instrument or at least sing a note so he’d have something in common with her.
Until he realised he did have something in common with her. He worked with the woman. He couldn’t believe he’d never felt the pull of attraction to her before. Pull? He felt like a bullock team was dragging him along.
He wanted to see that smile again. ‘My voice makes a dog howl.’
She grinned at him and then one of the others at the table drew her attention and Sinclair sat back and just watched her. In this company she was vivacious and witty and vibrantly alive. He’d never seen her like that at work. It was still difficult to fathom but, then, he’d always been at the centre of the crowd and at work the more outgoing staff, and more lately, Tessa, tended to take over the conversations.
The motel’s television was long forgotten as he bought her another cider and chatted with her friends, his eyes always searching for her smile.
When he finally managed to secure a dance with her, he realised what had been missing all the years he’d danced before. The soft material of her dress shifted seductively beneath his fingers and their bodies swayed together perfectly. Scarlet against him was a whole new way of dancing.
Reality receded even further as she leant into his shoulder and he smoothed the fabric. ‘I love your dress,’ he murmured.
She twirled in his arms and laughed up at him. ‘A present to myself on my twenty-fifth birthday. Wicked, eh?’
‘As sin,’ he said huskily and pulled her closer into his arms. Scarlet filled his senses like a potent wine yet there was an air of innocence about her that baffled him.
The time raced away and when her friends left to go home he looked at the clock with indecision. He felt like a randy sixteen-year-old and just as unsure of himself. He couldn’t let her go yet.
‘I don’t want this evening to end, Scarlet. Stay with me.’ He gazed down at her and her eyes were like blazing jewels in her face, almost glittering as she stared up at him. Then she laughed and swept up her bag and her saxophone case.
‘Let’s make a night of it we’ll never forget then, Sinclair.’
When he woke in the morning, she was gone, as if she’d never been. Yet his body could still feel the pressure and pleasure of hers. He knew for a fact that she didn’t make a habit of sleeping with strange men—so why would she leave? He ran his hand over the slight indent her head had made in the pillow beside his and caught a faint wisp of her flowery perfume on his fingers. His feeling of loss caused a lump of disquiet in his usually cast-iron stomach.
Later that afternoon, when he took the steps to Southside’s Maternity Ward two at a time, Sinclair looked at the place with new eyes. Someone here would be able to give him Scarlet’s address. Unfortunately, the first person he saw was Tessa, sitting alone at the desk.
‘Sinclair? You’re back early. I thought the conference went for another day?’ The tall midwife’s pleased smile reminded him and a twinge of guilt pulled a frown between his eyes. They’d been out for dinner a few times but he’d never promised Tessa anything. He knew now what he’d been waiting for.
‘Something came up.’ He watched her lift one sculptured eyebrow. Clinically, he could see her beauty, but she couldn’t compare with the joy he found in Scarlet. It was only fair that Tessa knew that. Be honest with her, McPherson, he chided himself. ‘Actually…someone…came up.’ He couldn’t help the smile that followed or the implication that his change of plans had been because of a woman.
Her face stilled and she looked away for a moment before turning back to him.
‘I’m pleased for you. Anyone I know?’
Sinclair hesitated, an uneasy reluctance warring with his desire for the information he wanted. He’d have to ask someone.
‘You wouldn’t have Letty Robin’s home phone number and address, would you?’
‘Letty Robin?’ The eyebrows went up again in disbelief. ‘My, my.’
Sinclair heard footsteps approaching down the corridor and frowned at her. ‘That’s enough.’
‘Captured her heart, have you? I went to school with Letty—she’s always been a funny, shy little thing. What a good catch for someone like her. I understand her father never acknowledged her. You do know her mother was unmarried?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ If Tessa didn’t shut up he’d strangle her. Sinclair’s voice became very soft so only she could hear him. ‘I hope you’re not going to play the woman scorned, Tessa.’
Tessa stood up and draped her arm around his shoulders before whispering in his ear.
‘Me? Scorned? Never.’ Then her voice returned to normal. ‘I know you’ll come back to me.’ She moved away from him around the desk and her lips curved in a smile of greeting as someone he didn’t see left through the front door.
He ignored Tessa’s conceit, too immersed in his own world to take notice of her. ‘Address, please.’
‘The staff book is on the shelf—she lives in the nurses’ home.’ Tessa laughed and he squashed the feeling of disquiet that grew with her smile. Lord, save him from all women—bar one.
As she walked down the steps of Maternity, Scarlet’s face felt frozen. There were a lot of reasons she regretted the night she’d spent with Sinclair McPherson. And conversations like the fraction she’d just overheard between Sinclair and Tessa only emphasised her regret.
She’d hoped she’d grown out of her inferiority complex about her birth but hearing Tessa’s snide comments to Sinclair took Scarlet back to her school-days. The last five years had been peaceful until Tessa had resettled in Southside a few months ago.
She needed to get away and think this thing through, Scarlet realised. She’d been a fool last night and it was the lack of any future in it that was the worst. But when Sinclair had looked at her finally, with all the admiration she’d ever dreamed of, she’d felt beautiful and worthy of him.
A one-night stand with a man she’d fancied for years. How stupid could she get? His eyes had been on Tessa since she came back and from the way she’d been draped all over him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, it seemed like they were right back where they belonged at this moment.
Scarlet had watched him drifting into a relationship with her nemesis and she’d really thought she’d accepted the cruel fate that had spelt the end of any fanciful dreams she’d held. She just didn’t have it in her to fight Tessa for him.
Then last night, drunk not on wine but on Sinclair’s undivided attention, she had gone back to that motel with him. Knowing what she did and risking what she had, she’d weakly thrown away the self-esteem she’d painstakingly earned over the last five years.
Self-esteem and respectability might not seem difficult to most people, she thought bitterly, but when you’d had the loss of it rammed down your throat by a bunch of school bullies for years it assumed enormous importance.
Her love of midwifery had done a lot to repair the damage but obviously her own illegitimacy was something she still hadn’t come to terms with. She had to get away.
Sinclair was frustrated, more so than he had ever been before in his life. Letty, or Scarlet as he now thought of her, was gone. She wasn’t home, didn’t answer her messages and didn’t come to work. As suddenly as she’d entered his life she’d left it. Later in the week, when he questioned the charge nurse about the midwives’ roster, he was told that Letty was on leave for two weeks. Then it had been extended to twelve months. Her nurses’ home room was deserted. Eventually one of the other midwives mentioned a phone call from her about a whirlwind courtship with some geologist up in the hills and that she was married!
CHAPTER ONE
LATE in August, Sinclair McPherson, Director of Obstetrics at Southside, rubbed the bristles on his chin, unaware his life was about to change again.
Four o’clock in the morning was too early to shave, he defended himself, not breaking stride down the hallway.
He glanced up at the ‘birth imminent’ red light that glowed gently outside Labour Ward One, knocked briefly and stepped around the door into the room.
He frowned, momentarily confused. The labour ward bed was empty and there seemed to be an inordinate number of women present at first glance. Then he realised the birthing woman was kneeling on a mat at the side of the room. He sighed.
Times were changing. Still, the good news was that it seemed he’d made it with a few minutes to spare to be present for the birth. Surely she’d hop onto the bed at the last minute. A natural, uncomplicated birth was always a pleasure, even at this time of the morning.
The woman he’d been called to see—Mrs Connors—was earthily naked and he could hear the tiny puffs as she pushed gently with the contraction. He couldn’t remember seeing her name antenatally, so she must have visited one of the other practitioners. He shrugged. It wasn’t uncommon to meet a woman for the first time in labour if you covered as many calls as he did.
A cascade of deep copper hair screened her face and there was something beautifully primal about her that touched him. He shook his head at the unusual thought.
In fact, the whole room had a peacefulness that wasn’t common at this time. Sinclair opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. She was too busy for him to introduce himself at this moment. He heard the longer exhalation of her breath as he made his way to the sink where he began to wash his hands and gown up as usual.
‘Get him out of here!’ The woman’s words were strong and clear and vehement with intent.
Sinclair froze and turned back towards the group huddled around the woman on the floor. He reached for the towel and bit back a sigh. Hormones. Women in labour were known to be irrational at times and he’d taken his fair share of abuse over the years. He smiled slightly. They usually apologised profusely once their babies were born.
A tall woman, probably her mother, Sinclair guessed, brushed the sweep of thick hair off her daughter’s face. She soothed her. ‘It’s OK, Scarlet.’
