The Midwife's Child

‘Oh, Brooke—good.’ Gill Wilson glanced towards her and then back to her patient. ‘Mrs Fox is going to need a section. She’s bleeding a bit and we suspect a placental abruption. We’ve bleeped Mr Matthews, the consultant, and he’s meeting us in theatre. Fortunately she’s had an epidural so she shouldn’t need a general anaesthetic. Is Alison Neal all right for a while if you give me a hand? Suzie needs to go back to her student in 5 so I was hoping you could scrub and take the baby.’

‘No problem. Alison’s fine with Paula.’ Brooke could see from the debris around her that ‘bleeding a bit’ was something of an understatement, and she knew Gill well enough to know that she was concerned.

Suzie was checking Mrs Fox’s blood pressure again. ‘Eighty over fifty,’ she murmured, and Gill nodded briskly.

‘Right. Into theatre.’

Without waiting for a porter, they manipulated the trolley into Theatre where preparations were already under way for an emergency section.

Brooke scrubbed, preparing for her role which was to take the baby once it was delivered, leaving the surgeon to concentrate on the mother. Gill had said the new consultant was good. For the sake of Mrs Fox she hoped that was true. Things weren’t looking good.

‘How much blood has she lost?’ The deep male voice trickled through the doors and Brooke froze.

No. Dear God, no.

She listened again, her heart pounding in her chest. There was a low murmur of voices as Gill replied, and then his voice again. ‘OK—we need to get this baby out fast.’

It was him. It was definitely him.

She closed her eyes and struggled to breathe. Six years. It had been six years since she’d last heard that voice, but she’d have recognised it anywhere. Deep, tough and totally male. Smooth and confident like melted chocolate poured over solid steel. It was the sort of voice that made everyone stop and listen. The sort of voice that was used to issuing orders and commands. And it was the same voice that had once seduced her to within an inch of her life.

Brooke felt her knees shake as panic swamped her. What if he recognised her? No. She had to make sure he didn’t. If he ever found out…

Frantically searching for some way of concealing her identity, she noticed a box of masks and grabbed one, hooking it over her ears with shaking fingers. It wasn’t a long-term solution but at least it should buy her some time.

She slid into Theatre, her heart thumping, and quickly realised that she needn’t have worried. The new consultant wasn’t remotely interested in who was standing in his theatre. He was busy, saving two lives.

His hands as steady as a rock, he divided skin and muscle with a speed and skill that made Brooke blink with disbelief. Even in her state of panic she could see that he was good. Incredibly good.

‘Is there a paediatrician on the way?’ His sharp question was swiftly answered by Gill.

‘Dr Patel’s on her way down now, Mr Matthews.’

Brooke watched, transfixed, as he stroked through the layers until the uterus was exposed and then made a small transverse incision and passed his right hand into the uterus.

‘Out you come, little chap,’ he murmured, his eyes flicking up to his SHO who was assisting. ‘Press on the fundus.’

Sita Patel arrived just as the newly delivered baby let out an outraged yell, and suddenly Brooke was reaching for the wriggling child, her actions all automatic, her mind still paralysed with shock.

‘OK, what have we got here?’ The consultant had already turned his attention back to the job in hand. Stopping the bleeding. ‘Suction, please. And again… That’s better… Oh, yes, I see what’s happening…’

Brooke and Sita took charge of the baby, placing it gently on the resuscitaire which had been wheeled into Theatre, so named because it incorporated essential equipment for resuscitating a baby.

‘Apgar of 8 at one minute,’ Sita murmured, looping the paediatric stethoscope around her neck as Brooke carefully used suction to clear the baby’s mouth and nose of mucus. ‘He’s got good lungs!’

‘Is he OK? Is my baby OK?’ Mrs Fox was twisting her head anxiously and Jed Matthews gave her a smile, his eyes creasing above the mask.

‘He’s great—can’t you hear that yell? Dr Patel will bring him over just as soon as she’s checked him and made him warm. How are things over there, Sita?’

‘Fine, Mr Matthews,’ Sita replied, finishing her examination of the baby and hovering while Brooke wrapped him up warmly to prevent heat loss. ‘He’s ready to meet his mum.’

Brooke swallowed. Jed Matthews. She hadn’t known his name before today. She allowed herself a brief glance, her heart turning a somersault as she focused on the thick, dark lashes and the brilliant blue eyes visible above the mask. She’d never met a man with eyes like Jed’s. Just one look from those very male eyes and she’d drowned…

‘Good.’ His fingers were still working quickly within the uterine cavity, trying to stop the bleeding. ‘How much blood have we got cross-matched, Sister?’

‘Two units,’ Gill murmured, moving to his side and watching him work.

‘Let’s give her one unit now, please. Swab.’ He reached out a hand and took the sterile swab, frowning down at his handiwork. ‘OK, that looks fine. I’m ready to close. Part of your placenta had come away, Mrs Fox, and that was why you were bleeding, but it’s fine now. Nothing to worry about.’

Brooke stood immobile, her eyes moving down to those powerful shoulders, clearly outlined by the loose fabric of his theatre greens. How could it be him? How could he be here, of all places?

No longer under pressure, he glanced up and his eyes narrowed as he intercepted her look. For a long moment they stared at each other and Brooke swallowed hard, fighting an overwhelming impulse to turn and run. He hadn’t recognised her. He couldn’t possibly. Her hair was totally tucked away. Only her eyes were showing. He couldn’t have recognised her, could he?

Gill followed his gaze. ‘Oh, this is Brooke Daniels, one of our midwives. I didn’t have a chance to introduce you earlier—’ Suddenly she frowned curiously at Brooke. ‘Why on earth are you wearing a mask?’

Trust Gill to notice that little detail. The midwife taking the baby was never near the wound long enough to warrant wearing a mask, but it had been a reflex action because she hadn’t wanted Jed to recognise her. She rummaged in her brain for an excuse.

‘I’ve got a bit of a sore throat,’ she mumbled, thinking that after the soaking she’d had that morning that comment might well come home to haunt her.

Jed’s eyes were still fixed on hers. ‘Pleased to meet you, Brooke.’

Was it her imagination or had he really put a slight emphasis on her name?

‘I…’ She cleared her throat. ‘Hello.’

He watched her for another moment, his blue eyes narrowed and quizzical, and then he turned his attention back to the stitching and his patient.

‘So, have you chosen a name, Mrs Fox?’

‘Ben.’ Mrs Fox smiled broadly. ‘After my dad.’

Brooke tried to control her trembling knees. Would he recognise her? It had only been one night, after all. One crazy night when she’d allowed herself to be carried away by mistletoe and romance and a man who was straight from every woman’s fantasies. A man like him must have been with loads of women since—he was probably even married.

She licked dry lips under her mask and tried to get a grip on her emotions. He wouldn’t recognise her. Of course he wouldn’t. And if he did, well, she’d just pretend he was mistaken. Yes, that was the best idea. After all, he’d never actually seen her in daylight. Just by candlelight and twinkling Christmas tree lights. And she was hardly that memorable, was she?

Suppressing a groan, she gently lifted the baby back from Mrs Fox and put him in the cot, ready to go to the ward with her. Jed mustn’t recognise her, he really mustn’t, and if he did…well, she could hardly bring herself to think about the consequences.

* * *

‘What on earth is the matter with you?’ Suzie frowned at her as they checked the controlled-drugs cabinet.

‘Nothing.’ Brooke opened the book and counted ampoules, her fingers shaking. ‘OK, this is the last one. Pethidine.’

‘You’re like a cat on hot bricks.’

Was she? Only because she was trying to avoid Jed Matthews. Sooner or later he was going to see her without the mask and she’d rather it was later—

Even as she thought it that deep, male drawl came from behind them. ‘Anyone free to give me a hand?’

Brooke closed her eyes and kept her back to him. Let Suzie do it. Please?

‘I’ve got to get back to my lady.’ Suzie closed the book with a snap. ‘But you’ll help, won’t you, Brooke?’

What choice did she have?

Taking a deep breath, Brooke turned slowly, carefully avoiding looking at him. ‘Of course. What did you need, Mr Matthews?’

There was a long silence and when she dared glance at his face their eyes locked and her heart turned over. Dear God, he’d recognised her, she could see it in his eyes. Something connected between them, something so powerful that she wasn’t able to break the contact.

His gaze lifted to her hair and then returned to her eyes, the tension between them so great that Brooke could hardly breathe.

‘What did you need me for, Mr Matthews?’

Her words broke the spell and he straightened slightly, his voice rough and very, very male. ‘There’s a woman in the admissions suite complaining of severe abdominal pain. I need to examine her and I’d like a chaperone, please.’

‘Of course.’ It was common practice for male doctors to use a chaperone when they examined a patient. ‘How pregnant is she?’

With one final glance at her hair Jed Matthews turned on his heel and strode down the corridor. ‘Thirty-three weeks. We’ll need to examine her and scan her.’

As they walked down the corridor Brooke increased her pace to keep up with his long, easy stride, painfully aware of his closeness. Seeing him again brought back memories that were so vivid they threatened to choke her. He was just how she remembered him. Tall—she guessed him to be about six feet two—with sleek, dark hair swept back from his forehead, and deep blue eyes that were both sexy and sharply observant at the same time. In many ways he was just the same and yet she sensed subtle changes in him. He had an air of authority and calm self-confidence that she didn’t remember from their last encounter. Oh he’d been strong even then, but approachable and warm. But now… She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath to calm herself. Now she found his cool confidence and overwhelming masculinity almost intimidating.

Brooke followed him into one of the rooms in the admissions suite and stood to one side while he introduced himself to the young mother.

‘And when did the pains start, Jane?’

‘Midnight.’ Jane Duncan bit her lip. ‘I haven’t been able to lie down or sleep. It’s agony, frankly.’

Jed listened carefully and then questioned her further. ‘You’ve had a baby before so you’re familiar with the type of pain that goes with labour. Does it feel like labour to you?’

‘No.’ Jane shook her head. ‘Definitely not. Was I wrong to come in?’

‘You were absolutely right to come in.’ Jed gave her a reassuring smile and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. ‘Any pain that keeps you awake all night is worth investigating. I’ll examine you internally first and then we’ll scan you and fix you up to the monitor for an hour or so to see if it picks anything up. Can I have some gloves, please, Brooke? Size 10.’

Brooke opened the packet and helped settle Jane in the right position.

‘Is the baby coming early?’ Jane asked, and then winced as Jed examined her.

‘Am I hurting you?’ He frowned slightly. ‘Am I causing the same pain you’ve been feeling all night?’

‘No.’ Jane flushed slightly and grabbed Brooke’s hand. ‘It’s a different pain.’

‘OK, I’ve finished.’ Jed straightened and gave her an apologetic smile as he ripped off the gloves. ‘Sorry to hurt you but I needed to feel your cervix. You’re not in labour, Jane. I’m going to scan you now, just to have a look at the baby.’

Brooke wheeled the portable machine to the side of the bed and watched while Jed scanned Jane’s abdomen, his gaze fixed on the screen.

‘That all looks fine, too, Jane. Baby’s heart is fine and he’s the right size. Have you felt plenty of movements?’

Jane pulled a face. ‘I did until last night. They seemed to tail off but that may have been because I was in too much pain to notice.’

Jed examined her abdomen carefully, palpating the position of the foetus, and then he raised an eyebrow at Brooke.

‘Can we put her on the monitor for an hour to see if it shows anything, please?’ He turned back to Jane. ‘If that looks fine then we’ll keep you in for a few hours and then send you home. But come straight back if the pain starts again.’

‘I’m not in labour, then?’

He gave her a brief smile. ‘Well, not at the moment, but that doesn’t mean you’re not about to go that way.’

‘But it’s too early!’ Jane’s eyes were worried and Jed gave her shoulder a squeeze.

‘I’m paid to worry about that, not you. For the time being you’re fine.’ He walked towards the door and then turned, his eyes on Brooke. ‘When you’ve finished, can I see you in my office, please?’

Brooke nodded, her hands shaking as she attached the various leads to the machine and checked that it was all working.

‘There we are.’ She managed a smile at Jane. ‘That’s measuring your baby’s heart and any uterine activity. Just relax and read some magazines and I’ll be back to check you in about twenty minutes. If you’re worried before then, just press the buzzer.’

She left the room and walked towards the consultant’s office, her legs shaking. She didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to see him, but what choice did she have? Judging from the look on his face, if she didn’t go voluntarily he’d drag her there himself, and she didn’t want to risk a public display.

Tapping on the door, she took a deep breath and tried to control her thumping heart.

He was standing with his back to her, staring out of the window across the wide lawns of the hospital towards the rolling, snow-covered fells beyond.

‘Come in, Brooke, and close the door behind you.’

She hesitated and then did as she was told, her hands shaking and her emotions so tangled that she couldn’t think clearly. Taking a long, deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. She could handle this. She was an intelligent woman who was more than capable of dealing with the fallout from one crazy night. For a start, he couldn’t prove it was her…

‘I’ve put Mrs Duncan on the monitor and she’s—’

‘I don’t want to talk about Mrs Duncan.’ He turned to face her, his eyes flickering to her hand which was within easy reach of the doorknob. An ironic smile touched his handsome features. ‘And you can stop hovering by the door, Brooke. This time you’re not going anywhere until we’ve had a talk.’

CHAPTER TWO

TALK?

Jed wanted to talk? She could barely breathe, let alone talk. Just being in the same room as him, almost within touching distance, was more than her will-power could bear. Over the years she’d berated herself repeatedly for her total lack of self-control that night. Never, before or since, had any man made her lose her head the way he had, and in the clear light of day, well away from the burning memories of their shared night, she hadn’t been able to understand what had happened to her.

But seeing him now, powerfully male and extravagantly handsome, she could only marvel that she’d managed to walk away from the man at all.

Raising her chin slightly, she gave him a cool smile, relieved that she was wearing trousers. At least he wouldn’t be able to see her knees shaking. ‘What did you want to talk about, Mr Matthews?’

‘Us, Brooke.’ His voice was suddenly soft, almost threatening. ‘I want to talk about us.’

Her eyes flew to his and she was immediately defensive. She had to protect herself. And not just herself.

‘I don’t think I understand you, Mr Matthews.’

A hint of a smile touched his firm mouth. ‘You understand me perfectly, and before you say anything more you should probably know that in certain circumstances I’m not renowned for my patience.’

That wasn’t how she remembered it. He’d shown endless patience on that night, taking things as slowly as she’d needed, showing a touching amount of care for her needs.

‘Mr Matthews—’

‘My name is Jed.’ He spoke slowly, with deliberate emphasis, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment. ‘But, then, you can hardly be expected to know that, can you? We didn’t exactly spend the night conversing.’

Hot colour seeped into her cheeks. ‘I really haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’

‘You’re a lousy liar.’ He covered the short distance between them in two easy strides and suddenly he was standing right in front of her, six feet two of powerfully built, very determined male. Startled, Brooke backed away but stopped dead as her shoulders hit the cold, solid wall.

‘Nervous?’ His eyes lit with grim amusement. ‘With good reason. This time there’s nowhere to run to. At least, not until I choose to let you. You owe me an explanation.’

‘I don’t owe you anything.’ This time her voice nearly gave her away, and she flinched as his eyes trapped hers.

‘Don’t play games with me!’ His voice was impatient. ‘Why did you do it, Brooke? Why did you creep away while I was still asleep? Why did you leave without a word after what we shared that night?’

Suddenly she found she couldn’t breathe very well and pushed at his broad chest in an attempt to get herself some space. He didn’t budge. She was totally cornered.

‘We didn’t share anything.’ She made one last try, knowing it was futile. This man had a mind like a razor. There was no way she would ever be able to persuade him that he was mistaken. He’d probably never made a mistake in his life. ‘It was someone else—’

‘You’re suggesting I don’t know who I’ve been to bed with?’ He raised one dark eyebrow and an ironic smile played around his firm mouth. ‘Are you questioning my morals or my memory?’

‘Neither.’ Her eyes flashed defensively and the panic threatened to choke her. ‘I’m just telling you you’re mistaken, that’s all.’

There was a heavy silence and a muscle worked in his hard jaw.

‘Are you seriously trying to convince me that it wasn’t you?’ He stared at her for a moment and then he started to laugh, a full, masculine sound that made her nerve endings tingle. ‘You are hardly easy to forget, Brooke. If you really want to blend into the rest of the female population then you’ve got some serious work to do.’

Self-consciously she lifted a hand to her dark hair, the wildness of which was still severely curbed by the tight knot she’d constructed that morning. ‘I probably just look like someone—’

‘Believe me, you don’t look like anyone except yourself.’ His tone was dry as he reached out and wound a lock of that same dark hair around his fingers.

With a sigh he lifted her stubborn chin with his free hand, forcing her to look at him. ‘I’ve only seen hair like this once in my lifetime. Stop playing games, Brooke.’

She was silent for a moment, her breathing rapid and her mind in a tangle. Suddenly she felt utterly defeated and her slim shoulders sagged. It was too much. On top of everything else it was just too much.

‘What are you afraid of?’ His voice was suddenly gentle. ‘I’m not going to force anything on you that you don’t want. I’m not going about to broadcast our relationship around the unit or embarrass you in any way. I just want you to admit the truth.’

And the truth was the one thing she couldn’t tell him. She’d decided that six years previously when she’d been forced to face the consequences of their night together…

She made a final attempt, her voice a feeble croak. ‘I don’t remember you.’

There was a long silence and he gave a soft laugh. ‘Shall I tell you something? After that night, my brother Tom was convinced you were Cinderella. Kept trying to persuade me to chase round the hospital on my white charger with a glass slipper tucked under my arm.’

‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t waste your time.’ She pulled herself together with a huge effort and managed a cool smile. ‘I can tell you now that it wouldn’t have fitted me, Mr Matthews. You’ve got the wrong woman.’

‘We’ll see about that, won’t we?’ His low drawl was intensely masculine and she struggled to control her breathing as he moved closer. Why did he affect her like this? Why?

‘You’re telling me you found a glass slipper?’

He shook his head slowly, the expression in his eyes making her breath jam in her throat. ‘I never looked. I had a much more reliable method of identification up my sleeve.’

His firm mouth hovered tantalisingly close to hers, but before he could move there was a sharp rap on the door and Jed sighed and released her reluctantly, his expression one of mild irritation as he strolled over to the door.

‘Yes? Oh, Gill, come in.’ He stood to one side as the unit sister walked into his office. ‘What can I do for you?’

How could he be so calm and self-contained? Brooke was a nervous wreck and certainly couldn’t bring herself to look at her superior. Jed, on the other hand, didn’t seem remotely uncomfortable, listening carefully as Gill outlined a problem with one of the patients.

He offered no explanation for Brooke’s presence in his office, probably because he knew he wouldn’t be questioned, Brooke thought bitterly as she took the chance to slip away, her heart still thumping wildly. Who would question a man like Jed? And it wasn’t just because he was the consultant.

Battling for control, she leaned against the wall for a moment, her eyes closed, still seeing the look in his eyes as he’d bent his head towards her.

He’d been about to kiss her. Dear God, if Gill hadn’t turned up when she had—

‘Are you OK?’ Suzie passed her in the corridor and paused. ‘You look stunned by something.’

That was an understatement. ‘I’m fine.’

‘So, what was it like, working with the heartthrob?’

‘Heartthrob?’ She frowned and Suzie laughed.

‘Oh, come on, Brookie! Even you can’t be immune to his charms. He’s stunning.’

She wasn’t immune to his charms, that was the problem. And she never had been.

‘If you mean Jed, he’s not my type,’ she muttered, walking along the corridor to the admissions suite to check on Jane Duncan.

‘Not your type?’ Suzie stared at her and then smiled slowly. ‘Oh, right. Sure. You’re one of those women who hate stunningly handsome, rich, successful men—I’ve read about them, but I’ve never actually believed they existed until now.’

Brooke gritted her teeth. ‘Just leave it, Suzie—’

Suzie opened her mouth and shut it again, her kind eyes suddenly puzzled. ‘OK. Sorry.’

‘No.’ Brooke took a deep breath and gave her friend an apologetic smile. ‘I’m the one who should be saying sorry. You’re so good to me and I’m a cross-patch. It’s just that I’m having a really lousy day.’

Suzie glanced up the corridor and gave her a quick hug. ‘What you need is a rich, handsome man who will write a huge cheque and solve all your problems.’

With that she darted off towards one of the delivery rooms, leaving Brooke staring after her.

‘No, Suzie,’ she murmured softly, tears pricking her dark eyes, ‘that is the last thing I need.’

* * *

‘Well, that looks fine, Jane.’ Jed ran his eye carefully over the trace Brooke had handed to him. ‘You’re not in labour at the moment and there’s no point in us keeping you in if the pains have gone.’

‘I feel OK now,’ Jane admitted. ‘What if it happens again?’

‘If they’re as bad as before then you’d better come straight back.’ Jed picked up the notes and tucked them under his arm. ‘But let’s cross our fingers, shall we?’