www.millsandboon.co.uk

      A mother to five sons, FIONA MCARTHUR is an Australian midwife who loves to write. Medical™ Romance gives Fiona the scope to write about all the wonderful aspects of adventure, romance, medicine and midwifery that she feels so passionate about—as well as an excuse to travel! Now that her boys are older, Fiona and her husband Ian are off to meet new people, see new places, and have wonderful adventures. Fiona’s website is at www.fionamcarthur.com

       Recent titles by the same author:

      THE MIDWIFE AND THE MILLIONAIRE

      MIDWIFE IN A MILLION

PREGNANT MIDWIFE: FATHER NEEDED^*

      THE MIDWIFE’S NEW-FOUND FAMILY^*

* Lyrebird Lake Maternity

      Mills & Boon^® Medical™ Romance is proud to return to Lyrebird Lake!

      Fiona McArthur brings you a fresh instalment from her fabulous mini-series…

       LYREBIRD LAKE MATERNITY

      Every day brings a miracle…

      It’s time for these midwives to become mothers themselves!

       Previously we met Montana, Misty and Mia

       ‘Thank you, Ms McArthur, for a thoroughly enjoyable time spent in your world of Lyrebird Lake, and I can’t wait to read of your many more delightful characters too.’

      —Cataromance.com

       Now it’s time to meet Emma.

       You’ll love her as much as everyone else in Lyrebird Lake!

      Dedicated to my dear friend Michelle. One of the coolest, bravest, most amazing people I know, and whose journey has been my inspiration. And, like all people with and without the gene, who have been affected by or known those affected by Huntington’s Disease, I pray for a cure.

      Chapter One

      GIANNI BONMARITO stood isolated and imperious at the edge of the garden and watched an extended family embrace life—at a funeral. While the upbeat emotion on display made his neck itch, he couldn’t help but envy the warmth of the mourners.

      But, then, everything in this country was warm. Even the ridiculous Queensland sun beat into the darkness inside his head. He watched innocent toddlers wrestle like puppies in the grass, while older, lanky teenagers played back-yard cricket on the lawn with adults. And women laughed. At a funeral?

      What place was this? This country outpost hours from Brisbane? A whole town nestled beside a mirrored lake ringed in trees. A small community so close that only first names were used.

      The weatherboard doctor’s surgery opposite Lyrebird Lake Hospital hosted a wake unlike any he’d seen and the enthusiastic if discordant bagpipes being played by the man he’d come to support was another bizarre example of it.

      ‘Gianni, isn’t it?’ The blonde came only to his shoulder, trim and tiny, with a spring in her step that captured his attention and shamelessly proclaimed that this woman loved life.

      He could barely remember himself like that. She had the most provocative smile he’d seen for a long time, and the most peculiar thing was that when she smiled at him, mysteriously she lifted the pall of darkness within him as if her fingers held daybreak.

      As if she’d tied his troubles to one of those helium balloons the family had let go at the graveside earlier that afternoon. Whoosh. Gloominess soared away—but physical awareness settled like a hot bowl of liquid in his belly and reminded him what a fool his libido could make of him.

      ‘Si. Gianni.’

      She smiled again, no doubt at his accent, so strange in this place of vowels. Incredible, Gianni thought, and struggled not to look at her delightful breasts and slim little waist he could have spanned with his fingers. Startled by the first genuine admiration of a woman since his faith in women had shattered for ever, that realisation sent the familiar wave of coldness through his consciousness. How could he trust that feeling?

      He reefed his disobedient eyes away from her body to scan her face for a sign of deceit but there was none he could see. He had to stop expecting it.

      The sun glinted off the iridescent pink lip gloss she wore, which shone with an exuberantly vibrant colour. Strange choice for a funeral, his clinical brain noted, and he had to be content with that, because nothing else remotely offended.

      Mischievous blue eyes scanned his length as openly as he’d scanned hers, and he frowned as his neck heated. What was this? Tangled glances with women did not perturb him. The very idea made no sense.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice came out less cordially than he’d intended and the vibration deep in his gut echoed in spirals of awareness he didn’t want—and denied adamantly. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met or I would have remembered.’

      ‘Emma Rose.’ She smiled. ‘I’m a friend of the family and one of the midwives at the birth centre.’

      He looked from her to the child he only then realised stood beside her, almost as tall in height, hinting at future beauty but surely too young to have reached double figures. ‘Your daughter?’ The mother looked a child herself.

      Emma cast a proud glance at the fair-haired poppy at her side. ‘Yes, my daughter. Grace. This is Dr Angus’s friend from Italy.’ Her voice lowered. ‘Dr…?’

      ‘Bonmarito.’

      ‘Hello, Dr Bon-mar-ito.’ Grace said carefully as she held out her small hand. She didn’t smile. ‘A doctor. That’s nice.’ Somehow Gianni felt a little boring as he took those tiny fingers in his big hand. Little girls were so fragile and made him aware of how much he didn’t know about children. Made him