CHAPTER ONE

      WHEN Samantha found out that she was pregnant she could hardly believe it. Once she had recovered from the shock, the delight and excitement set in. Although she knew a baby would change their lives radically, she never for one moment suspected that her husband would be anything other than ecstatic about the news.

      Even now, as she lay in a hospital bed drifting between consciousness and the depths of darkness, his reaction haunted her. Their marriage had been a whirlwind affair, and their relationship tenuous at times. Yet even through all the insecurities of loving Ben she hadn’t been prepared for the truth. He just didn’t love her. It was a bitter twist of fate that she should find out now, when she was just six weeks pregnant.

      Through a mist of confusion people were saying her name over and over again, but she was too tired to open her eyes; she just wanted to sleep and sleep into oblivion. The bomb blast that had hit the hospital might have bruised and battered her, but it was nothing compared with the ache deep in her heart.

      She opened her eyes once and saw a man standing beside her; he was just a hazy, blurred shadow.

      ‘Ben?’ She murmured his name, her voice sounding strange to her ears. ‘Ben?’

      Someone called for a nurse; it didn’t sound like Ben’s voice. She closed her eyes, too weak to think any more.

      When she opened her eyes next it was like coming through a thick fog. Then gradually things became clearer and she could see Sister Roberts looking down at her, her expression concerned. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked gently.

      It took a moment even to be able to find her voice. ‘As if I’ve been run over by a steam train,’ she murmured at last. Her eyes moved past the nurse. She recognised the general care unit where she had worked for the last two years, though now she was viewing it from a very unfamiliar angle. She tried to sit up, and winced as pain shot through her body.

      ‘Don’t try to move.’ Sister Roberts put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

      ‘I don’t think I can.’ Samantha swallowed rawly. Then her eyes sought the nurse’s anxiously. ‘Am I still pregnant? Is...is my baby all right?’ She held her breath as she waited for the woman to answer.

      The sister nodded. ‘Perfectly all right...you were very lucky.’

      A wave of relief washed through Samantha’s body. If Ben had previously given her any doubts about whether or not she wanted this baby, they were gone for ever now. She wanted her baby with all her heart; that much was certain.

      ‘Try and get some rest,’ the sister urged as she watched a tear trickle down the girl’s cheek. ‘You are badly bruised but there is no permanent damage.’

      Samantha shook her head restlessly. She could hear the distant sound of gunfire—not an unusual sound in the remote African township of Chuanga. For four years now civil war had torn the beautiful little country of Nuangar apart. Samantha had been here with the aid agency for two and a half years, but she still hadn’t got used to the tragic futility of it all.

      ‘What happened?’ Her voice was hoarse and strained as she remembered the direct attack on the hospital—the first of its kind. ‘I remember running through the ward and out into the corridor to see what was happening, then the explosion...’ Her voice wavered alarmingly at the memory. ‘Were many people killed...? Where’s Ben...is Ben all right?’

      ‘We’ll talk about Ben later...when you’re feeling stronger.’

      Cold, clammy hands felt as if they were squeezing Samantha’s heart as she looked up at the woman. She had been a nurse for too long not to recognise the expression in her colleague’s eyes, in her voice.

      Regardless of the pain, she hoisted herself up from the pillows. ‘Ben’s dead...isn’t he?’ Her voice wobbled precariously.

      The sister hesitated before answering truthfully. ‘The ward he was working in got a direct hit, Sam... He wouldn’t have known any pain.’

      For a moment Samantha seemed to take the news stoically, then she collapsed back against the bed.

      Josh watched the sleeping woman with a deep, brooding gaze. Something about Samantha Walker got to him. He couldn’t have said what it was...the air of vulnerability... the fragile, almost ethereal beauty...just something about her.

      His eyes moved over the pallor of her skin, made even paler by the mass of dark hair that framed the delicate oval of her face. She had incredibly long dark lashes, and soft lips that were tinged with gentle colour. In sleep she had a childlike, extremely vulnerable quality about her.

      She moved in a fretful way and murmured something incoherently. Then suddenly she looked directly at him.

      Her eyes were an unusual