The Surgeon's Baby Secret. Amber Mckenzie
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of her holding onto the last small outcropping of rock before the hill’s cliff. He couldn’t make out much of her face as she hugged her body close to the almost vertical ground beneath it, but he saw her tremble with fear. “Don’t move,” he yelled down to her.
But she did move, her head tilted only slightly to look back up at him, and once again he felt shock at what he was seeing. She was both young and beautiful. Her shoulder-length dark blond hair was being flung around her face as the wind continued to battle with her. Through the wisps of hair he could make out the beautiful large eyes that stood out even more against the pallor of her complexion. He was sure that he would never forget the way this woman was looking at him right now, at this moment.
“Stay still,” he reminded her, not wanting to be a distraction to her.
“I’m scared,” a small voice came back to him.
He wasn’t surprised. Even though he had watched her willingly throw herself from the hilltop it was normal to have last-minute regrets. He needed to keep her calm and establish trust between them. “I know. I’m going to get you out of there. What’s your name?”
“Erin.”
“Okay, Erin. My name is Ryan and I’m going to help you.”
How could he appear so calm and confident? She was literally on a ledge, facing death. Just as she had been reaching for the message a large gust of wind had blown it—and her—over the cliff. If she had thought she had hit rock bottom before, she had been wrong. This was truly it. She had let Kevin’s words literally drive her over the edge, and for what? What did it matter? What did he matter? Nothing that had come before this moment mattered except she had never wanted a second chance more than she wanted one now.
She looked up again toward the reassuring voice from above. The sun was shining brightly and she was too afraid to move any further, so all she could take in was the man’s muscular silhouetted outline. It immediately instilled confidence in her and she felt some of her fear dissipate. If anyone could help her it was this man.
She watched as he lowered himself to the ground, lying prone, hanging his head and shoulders over the cliff’s edge. He extended one long muscular arm toward her. “Erin, when you are ready I want you to reach up and take my hand.”
“I can’t.” The idea of letting go of any of her grip on the limited ground beneath her was impossible.
“Yes, you can, Erin. Trust me.”
It was an even more impossible request. She didn’t trust anyone, not even herself. “I can’t.”
“You can’t stay where you are forever. Reach up and take my hand.”
He was right. She had no options. Still, she couldn’t help but marvel at the complete lack of frustration in his voice. When was the last time someone had been patient with her? Or even acknowledged her feelings? Trust? She had sworn against that. But right now she had little more to lose so she took a deep breath and reached out her hand. The moment her arm was fully extended she felt his hand pass hers and grip strongly around her wrist; instinctively she did the same. Then, as if she weighed nothing, she was being lifted until he could grasp her under her shoulders and they both went tumbling toward the ground.
But instead of the ground, she landed on him and felt herself being raised and lowered with his breath, her body lax against his firmness. She was too dazed to move as she took in everything that had just happened. He had saved her, this man, Ryan. Ryan, who appeared to have Herculean strength. Ryan, who smelled like a combination of sunshine and sweat. Ryan, whose whole body she was in contact with.
She rolled herself to his side and for the first time got a good look at the man who had saved her. He was more impressive up close. He was tall and there was no muscle on his body that wasn’t defined. His black tech running shirt and blue shorts showed off the golden bronze of his skin. His hair was a light brown and he had a scar that extended from above his deep blue eyes toward his thick cropped hair. She could see at least one tattoo revealing itself from the short sleeve of his left arm.
“Are you okay?” His voice cut through her mental inventory of his assets.
Was she? No, but that wasn’t what she wanted to say and likely not what her hero wanted to hear. “Yes.”
“Are you disappointed?” he asked, his voice softer than before.
Disappointed? Had he sensed her evaluation? Truth be told, he was the first man she had felt attracted to in over a year and his raw sex appeal and heroism left little room for disappointment.
“No,” she answered, embarrassed.
“Good,” he replied, appearing relieved. He deftly sprang to his feet and then reached out a hand, which she took, and he helped her do the same. He was tall, her head coming up only to the top of his shoulders as she had to tilt upward to look at him.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t saved me.” She heard her voice tremble at the end, the direness of her previous circumstance even more apparent now that she was out of it.
“I’m just happy you wanted to be saved. Now, let’s get out of here before the wind picks up.”
She was shocked when he reached out to take her hand. So shocked that she didn’t pull away, not that she could have even if she had wanted to. His grip was as tight as it had been when he had pulled her up. It was as if he was locking her beside him and didn’t want her to get away. She should have felt fear. This man, Ryan, was a stranger, but instead she felt taken care of. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time and she was in no hurry to lose it. So instead she followed his lead and walked with him toward the base of the hillside.
“You’re American.” He finally broke their silence after several minutes.
“Yes.” And she realized from his accent that he must be, too.
“What brings you to Scotland?”
“I’m running away from the disaster my life has become. You?” She almost gasped as she realized the answer that had run through her mind at high speed had also escaped from her mouth.
“Work.” He answered as though her response had been completely normal and she welcomed his tact.
“What do you do?”
“I’m in the military.”
“That explains it.” She covered her mouth with her free hand. What was wrong with her? What was it about this man that made her lose her ability to filter? She turned her focus from the path ahead to look at him and was met with a similar appraisal.
“Explains what?” He had stopped and she felt his blue eyes question her more strongly than his words had.
“I just meant that …” Was it that he was the only man with scars and a tattoo that she had ever found sexy? Or that his bravery and strength in saving her had seemed so effortless it wasn’t surprising he was a professional hero?
“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain yourself.” He began walking again and she followed, still linked with him. Time went by as they made their way toward the hill’s base and she marveled at how comfortable the silence was between them.
“It’s a beautiful country.” His words finally broke through.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed, more comfortable with the neutral territory their conversation had achieved.
“Have you ever been here before?”
“No, but I feel like I have. My father grew up here and when I was little he would tell me stories from his childhood or sometimes just about this faraway country with princess castles and green grass and blue ocean as far as the eye could see.”
“I’m not sure the Scottish would take well to having a strong part of their heritage referred to as ‘princess castles.’” She looked back toward him and he was smiling. If she had thought he was handsome before,