Midwife in a Million. Fiona McArthur
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sweet sixteen and besotted enough to practically force him to make love to her would be different.
Of course it would. He was ten years older now—that made him twenty-eight. With his job the onroad experiences would age anyone, so he’d probably have changed, put on city weight, look a lot older. She’d be fine.
The call came in just as Rory finished unpacking. Betty knocked like a machine gun on his door and Rory flinched from too many sudden call situations in the city. Maybe he did need this break away from work.
Betty in a battledress shirt and viciously creased trousers was a scary thing as she stood ramrod-straight outside his door, and he wondered if he should salute her.
He opened the door wider, but gingerly, because the handle felt as if it was going to come off in his hand. The place was falling apart.
The fierce expression on Shultzie’s face made him wonder if he was going to be put through an emergency fire drill. ‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘Kate Onslow’s on the phone for you. Best take it in the hall quick smart.’
He moved fast enough even for Shultzie to be satisfied.
Chapter Two
RORY parked the ambulance outside the front door of the clinic and climbed the steps to the wooden veranda. His boots clunked across the dusty wood as the wind whipped his shirt against his body.
He could remember riding out to one of the station fences in weather like this to shift cattle with his father, a big man then that no horse could throw, with the gusty wind in their faces and the sky a cauldron above their heads. He could remember them eyeing the forks of lightning on the horizon with respect. And he remembered his father telling him to forget about any future with Kate Onslow. That it wasn’t his place. She was out of his league.
His feeling of betrayal that his own father hadn’t thought him good enough for Kate either had remained until his dad had been fired not long after Rory had left, after twenty years of hard work, and his dad’s motive became clearer.
Lyle Onslow had a lot to answer for. The problem was Rory had always loved Kate. Not just because she’d hero-worshipped him since she’d started at the tiny station school but because he could see the flame inside her that her own father had wanted to stamp out.
He understood the insecurities she’d fought against and how she refused to be cold and callous like Lyle Onslow. She’d been a brave but lonely little girl with a real kindness for those less fortunate that never tipped into pity and her father had hated her for it.
It wasn’t healthy or Christian, but Rory hoped Kate’s father suffered a bit before the end. He shoved the bitter thoughts back into the dark place they belonged, along with the guilt that he’d caused his parents’ misfortunes.
No wonder he’d never wanted to come back after Kate’s letter. Kate, who hadn’t needed him for what seemed a lifetime but needed him now.
The lightning flickered and a few drops of rain began to form circular puffs of dust in the road. ‘Lovely weather for ducks,’ he muttered out loud—his mother’s favourite saying and one he hadn’t said for years—to shake off the gloomy thoughts that sat like icy water on his soul.
He pushed open the door and walked down the hall to the clinic.
Rory’s first sight of Kate winded him as if he’d run into one of those shutters banging in the street on the way.
He’d tried to picture this moment so many times on the way but she looked so different from what he’d imagined and a whole lot more distant.
She was dressed in fitted tan trousers that hugged her slim hips and thighs above soft-skinned riding boots. The white buttoned shirt just brushed her trim waist and an elusive curve of full breast peeped from the shifting vee of her neckline and then disappeared, a bit like his breath, as she turned to face him. He lifted his gaze.
Thick dark hair still pulled back in a ponytail, no sign yet of grey, but ten years had added a definition to her beauty—womanly beauty—yet the set of her chin was tougher and steadier and she’d probably reach his chin now so she didn’t look as fragile as he’d remembered.
Lord, she was beautiful.
He’d have liked to have sat somewhere out of sight and just studied her to see the changes and nuances of this Kate he didn’t know. Breathe in the truth that he was here, beside her, and acknowledge she still touched him on a level no other woman had reached. But his training kicked in. There’d be time for that later.
‘Rory,’ she said but she was talking to the wall behind his head, which was a shame because he ached with real hunger for her to look at him. ‘Thank you for offering to help.’ She barely paused for breath, as if to eliminate any possibility of other topics. ‘I’m worried about Lucy and the sooner we leave the better.’
Her voice was calm, unhurried, unlike his heart as he struggled for an equal composure. ‘I’ve fuelled the truck and packed emergency supplies,’ he said. She nodded but still wouldn’t meet his eyes again and suddenly it was impossible to continue until she did. ‘Kate?’
‘What?’
How could she keep talking to the wall?
‘Look at me.’
Finally she did, chin up, her beautiful grey eyes staring straight into his with a guarded challenge that dared him to try and break through her barriers. There was no doubt he’d love to do that. But he knew he had no right to even try.
In that brief moment when she looked at him he saw something behind her eyes, something that hinted about places in her that were even more vulnerable than the delicate young princess he’d left behind, or maybe he was imagining it.
Either way, he wouldn’t delve because he wanted to close doors on this trip, not open them. ‘For the next twelve hours I’ll drive, you care for your patient and I’ll get you both to Derby safely.’ Then he’d say his piece and leave. ‘So we’ll talk on the way back.’
She blinked and he could sense the loosening of the tension in the air around her. Sense it with what? How could he sense things like that about a woman he’d not seen since they were both teenagers and yet not be able to sense anything about others more recent? It wasn’t logical.
‘Of course.’ Her glance collided with his for a long, slow moment before she looked at the clock. ‘Thank you, Rory.’
When she turned away, Rory swore he could feel physical pain from that loss of eye contact like tape ripping off his face. There you go. He still had it bad and, to make it worse, he doubted she felt anything. But that was his problem, not hers. He looked through the door to the patient on the bed. They needed to go.
To Kate’s relief, Rory had them ready to leave within minutes and she couldn’t think of anything else she might need to take with her. Except maybe her brain.
The grey matter seemed to have slowed to about one tenth speed since Rory McIver had walked in and Kate found her eyes drawn repeatedly to his easy movements as he settled Lucy in the back with extra pillows. He didn’t look at Kate again, which was good, because Lord knew what expression she had on her face.
Her friend Sophie had come in to man the clinic. ‘Don’t worry if you don’t get back for a couple of days. We’ll be fine.’ Sophie hugged Kate.
A couple of days with Rory? Kate shuddered. She’d never survive.
Sophie was still talking. ‘I’ll ring the housekeeper about your dad while you’re away and drive up to the home station after work if needed. Okay?’ Sophie frowned and Kate knew she could see the worry on her face. ‘Just go.’
Kate nodded again and cast one anguished look at Sophie. Kate was the only midwife. She had to go.
She focused on her patient. Lucy’s blood pressure had settled marginally with the antihypertensives and Kate had packed as many emergency