Her Knight Under The Mistletoe

When she’d spat back the same sentiments to him, the soldier in him hadn’t been able to sign up for another tour fast enough.

“Better to fight for freedom than to live with a ball and chain,” he’d said as he’d slammed the door shut, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

And she had laughed. Laughed.

When she’d been made a widow at the ripe old age of twenty-one everything had changed.

It had been as if each particle of joy that had lit her up inside had been switched off. Even more so when she’d gone to her parents for support. Assuming she was only after money, they’d told her it was time for her to grow up. Show some spine.

Spine?

They wanted spine? They’d see spine.

From the moment the door to her parents’ house had closed she had become consumed with a drive to prove them wrong. Prove she was worth more than a mention in the society pages. It wasn’t as if they’d offered her much loving support throughout her childhood. She knew her au pairs better than she knew them. There had never been a gala or dinner party left unattended on their watch. Couldn’t they see how lonely she’d been? How desperate for their affection?

It was only when she’d been named the youngest doctor in Britain to run her own trauma unit that she had been ushered back into the Wakehurst fold. And that was how she’d found herself at the party that night with Matthew.

And a few months later, when she’d begun to show, she’d gone straight back to being persona non grata.

Illegitimate children did that to a family whose raison d’être was ramming a wedge between the privileged and pretty much the whole of the rest of the world who weren’t lucky enough to have been born with the right surname. How her mother could never see that it was just dumb luck to be born into a life of privilege...

“So!” Matthew clapped his hands, jarring her back to the present. “Was I right? Is this chilblain-inducing home of yours in Bedford Square?”

She gave him a quick nod. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was putting a bit more emphasis on the “bed” than the “ford.” Cheeky so-and-so.

Unbidden, an image of the pair of them, completely naked and pressed together as if their lives depended upon it, burnt at the frayed edges of her reserve of cool, calm and collected.

“Good guess,” she replied as neutrally as she could. “It’s really convenient for the hospital. Just a hop, skip and a jump!”

She smiled brightly at Dr. Menzies, then turned to give Matthew a let’s-see-what-I-can-figure-out-about-you scan—before stopping herself midway because the man was just too damn sexy for words. He was six-foot-something. She’d fit easily under his chin. Not that she imagined being in a nestling hug with him or anything... One that would feel so protective, with those strong arms wrapped round her, that wall of chest assuring her that everything would be all right. Promising that her son would always be looked after... Their son.

Again she found herself lost for words as she stared into those beautiful blue eyes of his.

How am I going to tell him I am the mother of his child?

“Matthew, here, has a short journey too,” Dr. Menzies contributed, clearly oblivious to the frisson between his pair of would-be directors. “Just across the river—isn’t that right, Matthew?”

Matthew shot the doctor a difficult to discern look. One that probably said the same thing she’d felt when Matthew all but heat-detected her bedroom in Bedford Square: Back off.

She liked her privacy and it looked as if he did, too. So they had that in common.

And their son.

Amanda’s fingers swept along the outside pocket of her handbag, where she still kept the grainy black and white image of Tristan’s first scan.

After her husband’s last deployment... Well, it had been hard to believe she’d ever feel anything again. Carrying the weight of someone’s senseless death did that to a person. She’d feel the heated rage in his mother’s eyes until the day she died.

She might not want Matthew Chase to have this job, but she owed him a debt of thanks. Tristan meant the world to her. His arrival had let her see the good things in life again. The simple things. The sun coming up every day. The moon. The stars...when you could see them. Sapphire-blue eyes...

She’d never once pictured herself being a mother before that night, but now she couldn’t imagine life without her full-of-beans toddler. Which meant she’d better get her act together and start behaving as if she wanted this job. And, no, she wasn’t going to play nicely. She didn’t want to share.

She was more than capable of running the hospital’s A&E department on her own, and was prepared to prove it. Even if it meant getting a lump of coal in her Christmas stocking. From the bespoke cut of Matthew’s suit, he didn’t look as if he needed the money. But from the fire in his eyes he was no pushover.

She put out her hand again and gave Matthew’s a short, sharp shake, ignoring the spray of heat shooting up her arm as she turned her full attention to Dr. Menzies.

“I believe you and I have an appointment?”

“That we do, my dear, that we do.”

She threw a look over her shoulder as they entered the older doctor’s office and felt just the tiniest bit of smug satisfaction to see that Matthew was still watching. Hands resting on hips. Head shaking as if he’d just been diddled out of his last pound coin.

She might not want his money, but she definitely wanted this job. It would mean a regular schedule, money to pay for a proper nanny and give her sainted aunt some more time for her art, and a chance for her to rediscover the woman she had been trying to become all those years ago. A good, honest, hard-working Wakehurst.

Maybe seeing Matthew was a sign. A portent of good things yet to come. Like a job.

She dropped him a wink and swung the door closed with a light swoop of her foot. Better luck next time, pal.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.