The Honourable Maverick

Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Copyright

Dear Reader

OK. Personal confession time, here :-)

I’m one of those women who find certain tough, leather-clad men who ride powerful motorbikes irresistibly sexy.

Can this image be improved on?

I thought so. What if these men are also fabulously good-looking, highly intelligent, and capable of putting their lives on the line for the people they love?

For each other.

For children.

For their women.

These are my ‘bad boys’. Max, Rick and Jet. Bonded by a shared tragedy in the past, but not barred from a future filled with love.

Enjoy.

I certainly did :-)

With love

Alison

CHAPTER ONE

THE three men stood in close proximity.

Tall. Dark. Silent.

Clad in uniform black leather, motorbike helmets dangled from one hand. They each held an icy, uncapped bottle of lager in the other hand.

Moving as one, they raised the bottles and touched them together, the dull clink of glass a sombre note.

Speaking as one, their voices were equally sombre.

‘To Matt,’ was all they said.

They drank. A long swallow of amber liquid. Long and slow enough for each of them to reflect on the member of their group no longer with them. Cherished memories strengthened by this annual ritual but there was an added poignancy this year.

A whole decade had passed.

Two decades since the small band of gifted but under-challenged boys boarding at Greystones Grammar school had been labelled as ‘bad’.

The label had stuck even as the four of them had blitzed their way to achieving the top four places in the graduation year of their medical schooling.

But now there were only three ‘bad boys’ and the link between them had been tempered by the fires of hell.

Minimally depleted bottles were lowered but the silence continued. A tribute as reverent as could be offered to anything that earned the respect of these men.

The sharp knock at the door was inexcusably intrusive and more than one of the men muttered a low oath. They ignored the interruption but it came again, more urgently this time, and it was accompanied by a voice.

A female voice. A frightened one.

‘Sarah? Are you home? Oh, God…you have to be home. Open the door…Please…’

The men looked at each other. One shook his head in disbelief. One gave a resigned nod. The third— Max—moved to open the door.

Please, please…please…

Ellie squeezed her eyes tightly closed to hold back tears as she prayed silently, raising her hand to knock for the third time. What in God’s name was she going to do if Sarah wasn’t home?

It was enough to make her want to hammer on the door with both fists. Her arm moved with the weight of desperation only to find an empty space. Too late, Ellie realised the door was moving. Swinging open. It was all too easy to lose her balance these days and she found herself stumbling forward.

Staring at a black T-shirt under an unzipped, black leather biker’s jacket. An image flashed into her head. She’d passed a row of huge, powerful motorbikes parked outside this apartment block and she hadn’t thought anything of it.

Oh…God! She’d come to the wrong door and here she was, falling into a bikers’ den. A gang headquarters, maybe. A methamphetamine lab, even. Huge, powerful male hands were gripping her upper arms right now. Pulling her upright. Pulling her deeper into this dangerous den. Her heart skipped a beat and then gave a painful thump.

‘Let me go,’ she growled. ‘Get your hands off me.’

‘No worries.’ The sexy rumble from somewhere well above her head sounded…what…tired? Amused? ‘I’d just prefer you didn’t land flat on your face on my floor.’

It was a surprisingly polite thing for a gang member to say. Ellie could do polite, too.

‘I’ve made a mistake.’ She had to step forward again to get her balance. It helped to drop the small bag she’d been carrying to plant both her hands on the chest in front of her and push. Good grief, it felt like a brick wall. Ellie risked an upward glance, to find the owner of the chest looking down at her. Dark hair. Dark eyes that held a somewhat surprised expression. No tattoos, though. No obvious piercings. And didn’t he look a bit too clean to be part of a bikie gang?

She swung her head sideways and emitted a small squeak of dismay. There were two more of them. Staring at her. No, one was glaring. They were clad from head to toe in black leather. Jackets that were padded at the shoulders and elbows and tight pants that also had protective padding. Heavy boots. The gleam of zips and buckles might as well have been chains and knuckle-dusters. They were holding beer bottles. She had interrupted something and they weren’t happy. There didn’t seem to be quite enough air in this small room because there were three very large and potentially very dangerous men using it all up.

Ellie straightened to her full height, which was unfortunately only five feet three inches.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, as briskly as she could manage. ‘I’ve come to the wrong door. I’m looking for Sarah Prescott. I’ll…I’ll be going now.’

She turned back to the door only to find the first man blocking her escape route simply by standing there and filling the space. Ellie swallowed. Hard.

‘Look, I’m really sorry to have disturbed you.’ She inched sideways. Maybe she could squeeze past and get to the door. She might have to leave her bag behind but that didn’t matter.

The man didn’t appear to move but somehow the door was swinging shut behind him.

‘I…have to go,’ Ellie informed him. Dammit, she could hear the fear in the way her voice wobbled.

‘To find Sarah?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it urgent?’

‘Oh…yes.’ Ellie had no trouble making this assertion. She even nodded her head vigorously for emphasis.

‘Why?’

Ellie’s jaw dropped. As if she’d start telling a complete stranger about any of this. If she had the time, which she didn’t, why did he want to know anyway?

Lost for words, she stared up at this man.

‘It’s OK,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re safe here.’

How did he know that those were the words she needed to hear more than anything? How did she know with such conviction that she could believe him?

For another heartbeat Ellie simply kept staring.

And then she burst into tears.

The heavy, straight fringe of deep chestnut hair made her face seem fragile as Max stared down at it. He saw this woman’s fear and he saw the effect his words of reassurance had.

She let go.

She didn’t even know him but she trusted that she was safe. Now he could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. What had he been thinking?

And then those huge, hazel eyes filled with tears and he groaned inwardly. This was the last straw.

No. As he put his arms around this small, unwanted visitor and felt the firm bulge of her abdomen, which had been disguised by her baggy sweater, his heart sank even further.

Somehow, in the space of just a heartbeat or two, he’d offered protection to a woman who looked as though she was running from something. Or someone.

A very pregnant woman.

‘Max…’ The word was a warning. ‘What are you doing, man? She’s come to the wrong apartment, that’s all.’

‘No.’ Max held onto the body shaking with silent sobs and did his best to guide her towards the sofa. ‘Sarah Prescott was the previous tenant here. She took off to the States last week.’

‘What?’ Max felt a determined push against his chest that felt familiar. ‘No.’

Tears were scrubbed from her face and she gave a rather unladylike sniff. ‘She’s going on Friday. Tomorrow. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to go with her.’

‘She did go on Friday. Last Friday.’ Max sighed and let his gaze drop to the oversized sweater. ‘You really think they would have let you on an international flight? When are you due?’

Her mouth dropped open and he could see the wheels turning in her head. She realised he’d felt the shape of her body when he’d taken hold of her. A flush of colour stained pale cheeks but she said nothing.

Resentment at the intrusion into a private moment was long gone. Max could sense the spark of curiosity from the others now, albeit reluctantly, particularly on Jet’s part. But this was a damsel in distress. She needed help.

‘Come and sit down,’ Max suggested. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Ellie,’ she said, but didn’t move any closer to the sofa. ‘Ellie Peters.’

‘I’m Max. That’s Rick, who’s putting his helmet on the table over there, and this is Jet.’

That surprised her.

‘His real name is James,’ Max added. ‘But he’s always had a thing for flying and his hair’s really black, see?’

Ellie gave a slow nod as she flicked a cautious gaze towards the other men.

Rick was near the window now. ‘His hair’s only that colour ‘cause he dyes it,’ he said casually.

Jet’s snort told Rick he would pay for that comment later but Ellie’s lips twitched. Good. She was starting to relax. Maybe they could find out why it was she needed to find her absent friend so urgently, offer some advice to solve the problem and send her on her way. The others had to head away themselves very soon and they didn’t get together often enough to make sharing the last of this time a welcome prospect. No wonder Jet was looking so impatient.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Max offered Ellie. His gaze dropped automatically to the bulge of her sweater. So obvious now he’d felt it. Curiously, he could still feel it. As part of that body shaking with sobs she’d tried so hard to stifle. A shape that seemed to be imprinted on his own body. She was eyeing the beer bottles on the table. ‘I mean…water or something?’

‘Hate to break up the party,’ Rick drawled, ‘but there’s a guy on the street out here who seems rather interested in this apartment.’

Ellie’s indrawn breath was a gasp. She slid sideways, making sure she wasn’t in view. Closer to the wall now, she kept moving and peeped around the edge of the window frame.

‘Oh…no…’ The word was a groan. ‘It’s Marcus. I thought I’d lost him at the airport.’

‘And who is Marcus?’ Max stepped swiftly to look out of the window but the street below was deserted apart from a taxi and its driver.

‘He’s…um…He was my…’ Ellie seemed to be finding it difficult to find the description she wanted. ‘I was in a relationship with him. Briefly. It’s been…hard to get away.’

The underlying message was unmistakable. Max tried to curb the slash of anger. ‘He’s stalking you?’

‘Ah…kind of, I guess.’

‘Where have you come from?’

‘Today? Wellington. I think he must have hired a private investigator who picked up on my air-ticket purchase. He must have flown down from Auckland to be at the airport by the time I arrived.’

‘Auckland…of course…’ Rick snapped his fingers. ‘Thought the little weasel looked vaguely familiar.’

Everybody’s head swung in Rick’s direction. Max and Ellie spoke together.

‘You know him?’

‘Marcus Jones. Orthopaedic surgeon, yes?’

‘Y-yes,’ Ellie stammered, looking bewildered.

Rick addressed the others. ‘Had a little run-in with him when I was working in Auckland Central a few years back.’ The huff of expelled breath was not complimentary. ‘Guy with a nasty spinal tumour. I was keen to try a new approach. Risky but perfectly doable. Would have left him neurologically intact.’

The nod from Max and Jet accepted that Rick’s judgement would have been correct.

‘The weasel is persuasive. He talked the patient and his family into going with the standard protocol. Poor guy ended up quadriplegic and on a home ventilator. Probably dead by now.’

Max caught Jet’s raised eyebrow and nodded. ‘He follows the rules.’

‘Hell, he thinks he can make the rules,’ Rick said.

‘Does he, now?’ Max injected enough of an ominous tone into his query to earn approving glances from the other men. A glance at Ellie’s wide eyes revealed that she had no clue what the unspoken conversation going on here was about but it certainly wasn’t making her feel any more secure.

Should he take the time to tell her that one of the things that welded the three of them together was the shared conviction that sometimes some of the rules had to be broken? That they were all people who had no hesitation in doing exactly that if they considered it to be necessary?

He didn’t have the time. The rap on his door was far more demanding than Ellie’s knock had been.

‘Open the door.’ The owner of the voice was used to being in control. ‘I know you’re in there, Eleanor.’

Jet went to open the door.

‘No,’ Ellie breathed. ‘Please…’

Max and Rick moved to stand on either side of Ellie.

Max tilted his head. ‘He doesn’t sound like he’s going to go away without a little encouragement. You’re safe here, remember?’

‘Mmm.’ The sound was hesitant but hopeful. It tugged at something deep inside Max.

‘You’d like him to go away, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘For good?’

‘Oh…yes.’

Jet flung the door open.

‘About time.’ The small man in a pinstriped suit stepped into the apartment. ‘Come on, Eleanor. I’ve got a taxi waiting for us.’

Ellie said nothing. Max could see the way her lips trembled even though she had them pressed tightly together.

The newcomer took another step further inside and it was then that he seemed to notice Ellie’s companions. He looked over his shoulder at Jet, who had closed the door and was leaning against it, his arms folded and a menacing look on his face. Max almost grinned. No one could do menacing quite as well as Jet.

Rick earned a look then. And finally Max. Good thing they were all still in their leathers, having only just finished their annual road trip, which was part of their tribute to Matt. Even better that they were all at least six inches taller, considerably heavier and quite a lot younger than the dapper surgeon.

Marcus Jones cleared his throat. ‘Who are these people, Eleanor?’

Ellie remained silent. She looked remarkably like a small, wild animal caught in the glare of oncoming headlights, Max decided before flicking his gaze back to the most recent arrival.

He watched the way Marcus swallowed, revealing his discomfort. This man was a bully, he realised. The thought that he’d had the opportunity to bully the woman standing beside him was more than enough to fuel his simmering anger.

The surgeon spread his hands in a contrived gesture of appeal and directed his words to the men in the room. ‘Look, I don’t know what she’s told you but this is nothing more than a minor misunderstanding. Eleanor’s my fiancée. She’s pregnant with my child and I’ve come to take her home.’

Max felt Ellie sway slightly beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. He glanced down and met her eyes. He saw a silent plea for protection that no red-blooded man could have resisted. Especially an angry one.

‘Funny,’ he heard himself say mildly, ‘Ellie told me the baby is mine, and you know what?’ He speared the stranger with his gaze. ‘I believe her.’

The silence was stunned and no wonder. Max was more than a little stunned himself by what he’d just said.

The baby is mine?

They were words he’d never expected to utter in his life and they were having a rather odd effect. Creating a weird tingle of something that felt curiously…pleasant. Good, even. They made him feel taller. More powerful.

Rick made a sound that could have been strangled laughter but was effectively disguised as a cough. Unseen by Marcus, Jet shook his head in disbelief and didn’t bother to hide his smirk.

Max drew himself up to his full six feet three inches and didn’t break his stare by so much as a blink.

‘Eleanor…’ Marcus narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you going to say something or just stand there like some kind of stuffed toy?’

Jet opened the door. ‘The lady doesn’t want to talk to you,’ he said politely. ‘Why don’t you play nice and get lost?’

‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ Marcus snapped. ‘I happen to be the top surgeon in the orthopaedic department of Auckland Central Hospital. I don’t care what kind of gang you belong to. Get in my way and you’ll regret it.’

‘What are you going to do to us?’ Rick said softly. ‘Botch some surgery perhaps and leave us to suffer on a ventilator for the rest of our lives?’

‘What did you say?’ The stare Rick received now was intense enough to send a prickle down Max’s spine. This man was dangerous. He tightened his hold on Ellie. ‘Good God…I don’t believe it. You’re that upstart neurology registrar who thought he knew more than I did.’

‘It was a few years ago,’ Rick reminded him. ‘I’m actually a neurosurgical consultant these days.’

‘And I’m an emergency medicine consultant,’ Max informed him. ‘Your status isn’t helping you much here, mate.’

‘I’m on an ED locum run while I’m in town,’ Jet murmured. ‘But I’m usually a medic with the SAS. Your threats don’t hold much water, either.’

Max heard Ellie’s sharp intake of breath. Had she really thought they were gang members, too? She’d still trusted him, though, hadn’t she?

He liked that.

Whatever was going through her head, she seemed to be feeling braver.

‘Go away, Marcus,’ she said. ‘I told you a very long time ago that I never wanted to see you again.’

Marcus Jones was looking less and less sure of himself. He shifted his feet and glanced over his shoulder at the open door behind him.

‘She’s with me now,’ Max added for good measure. ‘My woman. My baby.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Now get the hell out of here and don’t come back. Ever.’

They all watched from the window as Marcus Jones scrambled into the waiting taxi and left.

Rick chuckled. ‘Nice one, Max.’

Jet shook his head yet again. ‘Yeah…you certainly pulled a good rabbit out of the hat. Gotta love you and leave you, though, man. It’s getting late.’

‘Sure is.’ Rick was reaching for his helmet. ‘Gotta go, too, mate. We’ll catch up soon.’

‘But…’ The ground was shifting under Max’s feet. His mates were about to desert him and Ellie was still here. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

His friends knew perfectly well they were dropping him in it. They were enjoying it, for God’s sake. Grinning broadly, even.

Max walked to the door with them, doing his best to think of some way he could beg them to stay without becoming the brunt of their mirth for years to come. They were having none of it. Rick thumped him on the arm.

‘You’ll think of something,’ he said. ‘Hey…your woman, remember? Your baby.’

He could hear the echo of their laughter even well after the door closed behind them.

CHAPTER TWO

THE throaty roar of powerful bikes faded but Ellie could still feel the reverberations.

Or was she still shaking from the face-to-face encounter with Marcus Jones?

Unbidden, her legs took her to one of the chairs around a table and she sank down onto it. Her worst fear had been realised. Marcus had found her. He knew she was pregnant and sounded absolutely confident that the baby was his.

But she had won. Not completely, of course. Her legs were probably still shaky because she knew he wouldn’t give up this easily but she had won this round thanks to a most unlikely team of dark, leather-clad angels. They were, without doubt, the most impressive array of masculinity she’d ever been this close to and they had stood up for her.

Protected her.

Sent Marcus Jones scurrying away with his tail between his legs.

He wouldn’t like that.

The tiny smile Ellie had been quite unaware of, as she had thought of her guardian angels in action, faded abruptly.

‘You OK?’ A chair scraped on the tiled area of the floor as Max took a seat at the other end of the table. He pushed a black, full-faced helmet to one side, where it clunked against the trio of beer bottles.

‘I’m fine.’ The sound had caught Ellie’s attention. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted your party.’

The corner of Max’s mouth lifted. ‘Hey, if it had been a party there’d be a damn sight more than three lager bottles left over and they’d be empty, what’s more.’ He rubbed at his face. ‘No…this was…a toast, that’s all. A token one at that thanks to the guys having to work tonight. It’s a bit of an annual ritual, I guess.’ His voice softened into a sadness that tugged at Ellie’s heart. ‘An anniversary.’

She had been watching his face as he spoke. Such serious lines…His eyes were dark brown—a match for wavy hair that looked like it had been squashed under that helmet for some time. The odd, wayward end of a curl was valiantly poking out here and there, giving him a rather charmingly dishevelled look that was enhanced by the faint shadowing of his jaw.

She watched his fingers as he rubbed the uncompromising line of that jaw. Funny, but she could almost feel the catch of stubble on her own fingers. Just a little rough. As though he usually shaved at least once a day but hadn’t bothered on this particular occasion.

He had shadows under his eyes too and lines that looked emotional rather than age related. He couldn’t be much older than her. No more than his mid-thirties. The echo of his tone lingered.

‘Not a happy anniversary?’ The query was tentative. It was none of her business, after all, but she owed this man something. Rather a lot, actually, and if he wanted to talk about whatever was on his mind, the least she could do was take the time to listen.

He was watching her now. Warily. Then his gaze slid sideways and he sighed.

‘There used to be four of us,’ he said simply. ‘See?’

He was indicating a silver framed photograph that had pride of place on the bookshelf beneath the window. Four young men, probably in their early twenties, were lined up in front of four gleaming motorbikes. They all wore leathers and held a helmet under one arm and they were all grinning. The picture was resonant with the thrill of being alive and young and with the promise the future held. Ellie recognised Max and Rick and the one with the odd name—Jet. The fourth man was shorter than the others and had wildly curly hair. He looked younger. As though he was out with his big brothers.

‘Matthew died ten years ago today.’

‘Oh…’ Ellie stole this opportunity to let her gaze rest on his face again. The bond between the three men when they’d decided to protect her had been unmistakable. He was capable of caring very deeply for others, this man. He still cared about a member of their group who had been dead for ten years. He was also capable of very deep loyalty.

Heavens, he’d been prepared to protect her—a complete stranger. No wonder her instincts had told her so convincingly that he could be trusted.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.

Max looked up. ‘Fate has the oddest little twists sometimes,’ he said with an attempt at a smile that came out with an endearing crookedness. ‘Matt died because there were people who were protocol police. A bit like your friend, Mr Jones.’

‘He’s not my friend,’ Ellie whispered fiercely, but Max didn’t seem to hear her. He had closed his eyes. He had the most astonishingly long, dark eyelashes.

‘There were rules in place and they had to be followed.’ He opened his eyes again but he was seeing a very different place from where he was sitting with Ellie on this quiet Sunday afternoon. ‘Their egos wouldn’t allow them to even consider they might be wrong. We were fresh out of medical school and what consultant would bend rules just because we had a hunch? Or let us juggle rosters so we could keep an eye on Matt? Even he said he was fine. It was just a headache. He’d sleep it off.’

Max paused to drag in a slow breath but Ellie stayed silent. She was happy to listen even though she knew this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

‘Didn’t help that we were legends for the way we partied but by the time we came off duty, Matt was in a coma from a ruptured aneurysm. They kept him on life support only long enough for his family to think about organ donation.’

Max was eyeing the bottles again as though he wanted a slug of something. ‘They didn’t want us around,’ he continued tonelessly. ‘And why would they? Any hint of trouble Matt had been in for the past ten years had been associated with us. His sister, Rebecca, was convinced we could have saved him if we’d tried a bit harder. It was the worst time ever. Finally, we got our bikes and took to the road for a good, hard blast. We came back to learn that they’d turned off the machines and Matt was gone.

‘Anyway,’ He shook his head, letting the memories go. ‘We figured that Matt had been pillion that day. Riding out in style. So we do it every year. Go for a blast on the open road and then finish off with a nice, cold beer.’

‘And I interrupted you.’ Ellie’s tone was full of remorse but Max smiled.

‘But don’t you see? We got the chance to play the heavies with one of them. Egotistical rule followers. The kind we didn’t know how to deal with way back then. Take my word for it, it was a bonus.’

Max’s smile was doing something very odd to Ellie.

This was the first time she had seen both sides of his mouth curl evenly. There was warmth there, unsullied by anything sad or grim. A warmth she could feel curling inside her, melting that hard knot of tension that was starting to make her back ache intolerably.

The adrenaline overload of the last thirty minutes or so was draining away to leave her utterly exhausted but that was OK because there was energy to be found in that smile, too. It really was quite extraordinary. It was just a shame she was too tired to smile back.

‘So, that’s my story.’ Max raised an eyebrow as his face settled back into rather more intent lines. ‘What’s yours, Ellie Peters?’

He knew her full name was Eleanor now but he was still calling her Ellie. She liked that. Did she want to tell him her story?

Oh…yes.

Would he think less of her when he heard it?

Quite likely.

Ellie didn’t want Max to think less of her so she didn’t say anything.

Max waited patiently as the seconds ticked past but he didn’t take his gaze off her face. Ellie shifted uncomfortably, the ache in her back getting worse. Her stomach felt odd, too. As if it was trying to decide whether there was enough in it to be worth ejecting. Fortunately, there probably wasn’t. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d had something to eat. Last night?

‘Was he right?’ Max asked evenly. ‘Is the baby his?’

Ellie recognised the new sensation as disappointment. She had no choice other than to let Max think less of her. She owed him honesty, if nothing else.

‘Yes.’

A whisper. A tiny word but, man, it hurt. If only it didn’t have to be the truth. Ellie’s eyes prickled with unshed tears but Max didn’t seem to react at all.

‘How did you meet him?’

‘I…I was his theatre nurse. In Auckland. He didn’t even know my name for the longest time but then he suddenly noticed me and he started being nicer to me in Theatre. Nicer to everybody, actually.’

An eyebrow as dark as those enviable eyelashes quirked. ‘He wasn’t usually nice, then? No, don’t tell me, let me guess.’ The padded elbows of the leather jacket were resting on the table and Max steepled his fingers as he spoke. ‘Bit of a temper?’ His thumbs and forefingers touched each other. ‘Instruments getting hurled around when he wasn’t happy?’ Ellie watched his middle and ring fingers make contact. ‘People getting verbally beaten up on occasion?’

Ellie’s gaze flicked up from watching his fingers. ‘How do you know?’

The steeple was gone, fingers curling into fists. ‘I know the type. Go on, what happened after this miraculous personality transplant?’

‘He…um…asked me out.’

‘And you fell into his arms?’ The words were just a little too bland and Ellie cringed.

‘No,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I wasn’t interested but…’ She sighed. ‘Marcus was very persistent and…and he can be quite charming, believe it or not.’

‘Oh, I believe it,’ Max said grimly. ‘Control freaks are notoriously capable of charming the birds out of the trees if that’s what it takes to get what they want.’

Ellie took a deep breath. She wanted to get this confession over and done with. ‘I went out with him,’ she said in a rush. ‘But only twice.’

Max leaned back in his chair. The look on his face said it all and why should she be surprised? Two dates and she got knocked up? But then he frowned.

‘He’s not a man who likes to take no for an answer, is he?’

Ellie bit her lip. She really didn’t want to talk about this. To anyone. She didn’t even want to have to think about it again.

Maybe something of the shame, and fear, of that night was in her face. Max certainly saw enough to make him curse. Softly but, oh, so vehemently.

‘The bastard. Dammit, I wish we hadn’t let him go unscathed. If we’d had any idea…’

Ellie’s head shake was determined. ‘No. It would only have made things worse. He’d win in the end. Somehow. He always does.’

‘Not this time.’

Good heavens, he made it sound like a promise but, sadly, it wasn’t one that Ellie could afford to accept. Not for herself or the baby. Or for Max and his friends. They all had careers within the medical world. Damage could be done on all sorts of levels.

‘I’m going to get well away,’ she assured Max. ‘Out of the country. I’ll change my name and start again somewhere he’ll never find us.’

‘Uh-uh.’ The negative sound had a ring of finality.

‘What?’

‘You can’t let him win.’

‘I can’t fight. I tried. I even threatened him if he wouldn’t leave me alone and guess what? I lost my job. He managed to make me look totally incompetent in Theatre and laid an official complaint. Nobody would listen to my side and I got shifted sideways to work in a geriatric ward and even that wasn’t enough for him.’

Max said nothing but he was listening hard.

‘He was always there. Ready to make things better if I co-operated. There were apologies and promises and threats. Flowers and phone calls and endless text messages that all looked completely innocent on their own. He’d be waiting for me when I finished a shift sometimes and I’d never know whether he’d choose 6 a.m. or midnight. My flatmate, Sarah, got freaked out so I left town. I got a job in Wellington. Sarah left a few weeks later. Said she was still freaked because Marcus kept turning up, wanting to know where I was, and she couldn’t cope, not when she had Josh to think about.’

Max nodded. ‘I met Josh. Nice kid.’

‘Did you know he’s Sarah’s nephew, not her son?’

‘She did tell me. Her sister died in some kind of accident a couple of years ago?’

‘That’s right. Sarah was the only family member who could take him. He’s only nine so I didn’t blame her for being so worried. She blamed me, though, for the hassles Marcus caused. So much that she didn’t talk to me for months.’

‘Why didn’t you go to the police?’

‘Who would have listened to some nurse badmouthing a well-respected consultant surgeon? I’d already had a taste of his influence on people when I tried to defend my job in Theatre. I had a grudge. I had no evidence of anything other than romantic gestures and texts from a man most people considered charming.’

‘Did you know you were pregnant when you left?’

Ellie shook her head. ‘It didn’t even occur to me because I was taking a low-dose pill to control painful periods and it worked so well I often didn’t get them at all. It was months before I twigged and by then it was way too late to do anything about it…even if I…’ She trailed off with a sigh.

This was getting worse by the minute. He’d think she was weak in having gone out with Marcus in the first place. Stupid not to consider the possibility of pregnancy. Even more stupid not to go to the police and maybe he had a thing against terminations for any cause and she would have considered it very seriously, God help her, because…

‘Not the kind of man you would have picked to be the father of your baby?’ There was a wealth of understanding in Max’s voice and Ellie’s breath came out in a whoosh of relief.

‘No.’

‘Could be worse,’ Max said thoughtfully. ‘The guy’s not that bad looking.’

Ellie’s jaw sagged.

‘And he’s obviously got well above average intelligence.’

Was he trying to make a joke out of this? Unbelievable. Maybe her judgment of his character had been woefully misguided.

‘Bit on the short side,’ Max continued. His gaze rested on Ellie. ‘And you’re hardly a giant but…’ He nodded. ‘Maybe it’ll be a girl. Petite and pretty, just like her mum.’

He was smiling at her again. ‘Hey, if you’d gone to a sperm bank he would have looked pretty good on paper, wouldn’t he? I’ll bet his undesirable attributes are all due to nurture, not nature.’

The sharp flash of dismay—anger, even—that he could be belittling the nightmare she’d been living with for so many months gave way to something very different. Something rather wonderful. Something that made it OK that she loved this baby she was carrying. She didn’t have to feel ashamed. Or guilty. Or terrified of what the future might hold for her child.

He’d not only made her feel safe, this man. He’d given her…hope.

Ellie’s smile wobbled. ‘Thank you.’ ‘No worries.’ Max looked away. Was he embarrassed by the gratitude he might be seeing? ‘So, do you know if it’s a girl?’ ‘No.’

‘You weren’t tempted to ask the ultrasound technician?’

‘I haven’t had a scan.’

Too late, Ellie realised what she’d let slip as Max blinked at her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I haven’t had a scan,’ she repeated. Did he not understand? ‘If I’d gone to an antenatal clinic my name would have been recorded. I knew Marcus was trying to find me and I couldn’t take that risk.’

‘But didn’t the hospital in Wellington get your details when you got a new job there?’

‘I didn’t get a job in a hospital. I went into the private sector. I had a job as a carer for a tetraplegic guy. I kept it up until very recently when the lifting got too much and then I finally managed to contact Sarah and she said she was going to the States and it seemed like the perfect solution so I sorted my passport and—’

‘Whoa!’ Max held up a hand. ‘Rewind. Are you saying you’ve had no antenatal care? Not even a scan?’

‘I’m twenty-eight,’ Ellie said defensively. ‘Young and healthy. I’ve had no problems. I’ve taken my own blood pressure at regular intervals and I even had the opportunity to test my own urine for protein and so on because the man I was caring for had dipsticks provided. I’ve taken all the recommended vitamin supplements and been careful with my diet. I had all the information I needed in my textbooks and I’m a nurse, for heaven’s sake. I can take care of myself. I would have got help if there’d been any indication it was needed. I’m not stupid.’

The way his eyebrows lifted suggested that Max was reserving judgement on that score. ‘How many weeks are you?’

‘Thirty-six weeks and two days.’

‘What position is the baby in?’

‘I…’ That was something Ellie had done her best to ascertain but would have to admit she hadn’t succeeded in finding out. A small bottom and a head were hard to distinguish by palpation.

‘You don’t know, do you?’

Ellie had to look away. She pressed her lips together and encouraged the small flare of resentment she could feel forming.

‘Where were you planning to give birth given your aversion to registering as a patient in a hospital?’

‘I can go to a hospital. Somewhere else. Under a different name.’

‘And if you happen to succeed in lying about your due date and actually get onto an international flight, how’s that going to work if you go into labour at thirty thousand feet? Hours away from the nearest airport?’

He was angry. With her.

And it was unbearable.

He’d made her feel safe and then he’d given her hope and now he was taking those precious moments back. Ellie had never felt this miserable in her entire life.

So utterly alone.

Max was appalled.

He’d protected Ellie and now that he knew what he’d been protecting her from, he could only be grateful that fate had put him in the right place at the right time.

And now she was going to endanger both herself and her unborn baby with this insane plan to throw herself into a lifetime of hiding and deceit.

He couldn’t see her face at the moment because she had dipped her head under the weight of his harsh tone. He could see the copper gleam of that thick mane of hair, however. And the tip of a small, upturned nose. What had he said about the baby? That it might be a girl—petite and pretty like its mother? He’d meant it, but he could have said more.

He could have suggested it might have that gorgeous colouring of her hair and eyes that would demand the attention of anybody. He might not be able to see her arms hidden beneath the wide sleeves of that sweater but he could guarantee the bone structure was as fine as her face and hands.

What he could see was the way they were wrapped around her lower body right now. Fiercely protective. And he could see the slump of her shoulders as though she thought the entire world was against her.

Hadn’t she been through enough without him getting on her case as well?

‘Sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘I don’t want to make this any worse for you. I’d like to help, if I can.’

She looked up and caught his gaze and Max couldn’t look away. He’d remembered the attractive colour of her eyes but he must have forgotten their impact. He could feel that gaze. Like a physical touch. A handhold, maybe. One that asked for comfort. Or strength. He could give her that much, couldn’t he?

‘You wouldn’t have a forwarding address for Sarah, would you?’

‘No.’ Max frowned. ‘You do know why she decided to take off for the States in such a hurry, don’t you?’

‘Not really. She didn’t say much in her email. I got the impression she was making a new start. Wanting a new life?’

‘No. That wasn’t the reason.’

Ellie looked horrified. ‘She was trying to get further away from me?’

‘No. Did she not tell you about Josh? About him being diagnosed with leukaemia six months ago?’

‘Oh, my God!’ Ellie breathed. ‘No. I knew she was worried about him when I left. She thought he was being affected by the stressful situation. It was one of the reasons I left Auckland.’

‘He didn’t get diagnosed until they came down here. He got a lot sicker fast and she decided she had to try and find his father so that the possibility of a bone-marrow transplant would be there. She finally managed to track down the man on his birth certificate and found out he’s a doctor working in California. She decided the best way to deal with it was to take Josh to meet him. Too easy to just say no with an email or phone call. She’s planning to stay long enough to have the transplant done in the States if it’s possible.’

‘She might need help looking after him. I could do that. Poor Sarah. She needs a friend if nothing else.’

Her determination might be admirable but the wobble in Ellie’s voice showed that she knew as well as he did that she was heading down a dead-end street with that plan.

‘You can’t go to the States right now, Ellie,’ he said gently. ‘Give it up.’

‘Australia, then. That’s only a few hours away.’

‘Do you have any friends or relatives over there?’

‘I know someone in Darwin.’

‘That’s nearly as far as the States. What about this side of Australia? Sydney or Melbourne or Brisbane?’

Ellie sighed. ‘No.’

‘How will you manage on your own?’

‘I can get a job. I’m good at what I do.’

‘I’m sure you are.’ Max repressed a sigh. ‘But do you think you’d get a position as a theatre nurse without having to produce a documented record of your qualifications? Without them wanting to know where you were last employed? Without talking to people there?’

Ellie looked away again. ‘Yeah…I know.’ Defeat darkened her words. ‘I keep thinking and thinking about it and it’s going round and round in my head and I just keep hoping I’ll think of something that might work. Some way out.’

She gave him a quick glance and he could see that her eyes shimmered with tears. ‘And I can’t. I just have to take one day at a time and think about what I need to do today. For the next few hours, even.’

‘What you need to do today is to make sure that everything’s OK with you and your baby.’

Her nod was resigned. ‘I’ll go and see a doctor tomorrow, I promise. I’ll find a midwife.’

‘And you’ll have the baby in a hospital?’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t. What if Marcus found out? What if he got the chance to do a DNA test or something and got evidence that it is his baby? He’d take it away from me.’

Ellie was gripping the table now. She pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’m not going to let that happen. Not to me and especially not to this baby. My baby.’ She turned away with the obvious intention of leaving.

‘Hey…my baby, too…kind of.’ Max was on his feet. He had to stop her going. If she left, he’d have no way of helping her and he’d taken on a responsibility back then when he’d claimed paternity. OK, it had been pretence and he could give it up now but oddly it seemed to be getting stronger.

Ellie got halfway across the room as she made a direct line for her small overnight bag that still sat near the door. But then she stopped abruptly. She put her arms around herself again and then, to Max’s horror, she doubled over with an agonised cry of pain. It was then that he saw the dark stain on the legs of her jeans.

Had her waters broken?

He was by her side in an instant. Holding her. Helping her to lie down, right where she was. He was touching her and when he took his hand away, he saw the unmistakable smears of blood on his fingers.

‘Don’t move, Ellie,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be all right. I’m just going to call for an ambulance.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE wail of the ambulance siren still echoed in his head as Max followed the stretcher carrying Ellie into the emergency department of Dunedin’s Queen Mary hospital.

The sound had been the consistent background to a blur of activity that he had orchestrated from the moment Ellie had collapsed on his floor. He had been the one to place the large-bore IV cannula to allow vital fluids to be administered to counteract the blood loss. He had inserted a second line when it had become apparent that her blood pressure was already alarmingly low and her level of consciousness was rapidly dropping. It was Max who kept an eye on the ECG monitor to see what effect the blood loss might have on her heart rhythm and increased the level of oxygen being given as the reading of circulating levels slowly deteriorated.

This was far worse than any complication he might have imagined her encountering on an international flight. She would have been in trouble if this had happened only hours ago on a short domestic hop. Or out on the street before she had knocked so unexpectedly on his door.

She was in trouble anyway.

So was the baby.

Not that he could afford to worry about the infant just yet. He knew that the mother’s condition was the priority. He had dealt with such cases in his department more than once. Ruptured ectopic pregnancies. Uterine ruptures. Trauma. But this wasn’t some unknown woman who’d been rushed into his department by an ambulance with its siren wailing urgently.

This was Ellie and he’d promised her she was safe now.

‘Antepartum haemorrhage,’ he told the startled-looking triage nurse as the stretcher burst through the electronic doors into a brightly lit department.

‘Max! What on earth are you doing here?’

He ignored more than one head turning in his direction. Maybe this wasn’t the way he usually arrived at work and he rarely turned up wearing his bike-riding leathers but it was no excuse for unprofessional behaviour from his colleagues.

‘Is Trauma One free?’

‘Yes. We got the radio message. Someone from O and G is on the way down.’ The nurse followed the rapidly moving stretcher. So did the receptionist, who was clutching a clipboard.

‘We haven’t got a name,’ the clerk said anxiously.

‘Ellie,’ Max snapped. They were through another set of double doors now, in the best-equipped area in the department to deal with a critical case. The paramedics stopped the stretcher right beside the bed with its clean, white sheet. Staff were waiting, having been primed to expect them, and they were wearing their aprons and gloves, ready to begin a resuscitation protocol. They all knew their first tasks. The portable monitoring equipment from the ambulance would have to be switched over to the built-in equivalents. A junior nurse held a pair of shears, ready to cut away Ellie’s clothing. A trolley was positioned near the head of the bed, an airway roll already opened in case intubation was necessary.

It was no surprise to see who was ready to control both the airway of this patient and the running of this emergency scenario. Jet was wearing theatre scrubs now and had a stethoscope slung around his neck. There was nothing unprofessional about his immediate reaction to seeing who had come in with this patient. He didn’t even blink.

‘On my count,’ he said smoothly. ‘One, two…three.’

There was a pool of blood on the stretcher as they lifted Ellie across to the bed. She groaned and her eyes flickered open.

‘It’s OK,’ Max said, leaning closer. ‘We’re in the hospital now, Ellie. Jet’s here and he’s going to look after you. We’re all going to look after you.’

Her eyes drifted shut again.

‘GCS is dropping.’ Max tried to sound clinical. Detached. It didn’t work.

Jet was holding Ellie’s head, making sure her airway was open. He was watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest and his gaze went to the monitor as the oxygen saturation probe on her finger began relaying the information he wanted.

He frowned and flicked the briefest glance at Max. ‘What the hell happened?’ he murmured.

‘Massive haemorrhage. Seemed to come from nowhere as soon as she stood up. Severe abdominal pain as well.’

The clerk was still in the room, hovering behind the nursing staff who were changing ECG leads, hanging the bags of fluid and getting a blood-pressure cuff secured.

‘What’s Ellie’s last name?’ she asked. ‘How old is she?’

A registrar had his hands on her swollen abdomen. ‘It’s rigid,’ he announced. ‘Is she in labour? What’s the gestation?’

‘Thirty-six weeks and two days,’ Max said.

Ellie was almost naked now. Totally vulnerable. Exposed to an expanding team of medical personnel. Someone from the obstetric department had arrived, closely followed by a technician pushing a portable ultrasound machine. Jet was holding a mask over Ellie’s face and frowning as he watched the numbers changing on the overhead monitor.

‘Ellie…’ He had his mouth right beside his ear and was speaking loudly. ‘Can you hear me? Open your eyes.’

She wouldn’t want to, Max thought. This would have to be absolutely terrifying.

‘Are there any relatives who could give me her details?’ the clerk persisted. ‘Did her husband come in with her? Or…her partner?’ The woman knew she was failing in her task but she made yet another effort. ‘The father of the baby?’

That flicked a switch in Max’s head and its effect was magnified by how vulnerable Ellie was. How much trouble she was in right now. He had tried to protect her and somehow he had stepped into a new nightmare and was still by her side. Was she aware of what was happening? Still terrified? Did she know he was here?

She had been so determined to stay away from hospitals to protect her child. Maybe the best thing he could do for her at this moment was to respect that determination and carry on with what had already worked once.

‘Yes,’ he said clearly. ‘I’m the father.’

Somebody dropped something metallic on the far side of the room and the sound rang out in the suddenly still moment following his statement. Jet uttered a low profanity but his gaze was still fixed on the monitor and the sound could well have been taken to be concern at a new development in Ellie’s condition. Max was close enough to speak to his friend without being overheard by anyone else.

‘I’ll explain later,’ he murmured. ‘Just back me up.’

The clerk was happy, scribbling on the sheet of paper attached to the clipboard. ‘Surname?’ she chirped briskly.

Oh, Lord. If she got registered under her real name, they have to deal with Marcus Jones turning up and he’d have plenty of time to get here. Even if things went better than any of them could expect in this room, there was no way Ellie would be getting discharged in a hurry.

There was no time to think. In for a penny, in for a pound.

‘McAdam,’ he said wearily. ‘We’re married.’

The nurse, who was sticking on the leads required for a twelve-lead ECG, looked up, open-mouthed, and others exchanged astonished glances but the clerk knew she was on a roll.

‘How old is your wife?’

‘Twenty-eight.’

‘Date of birth?’

As if he’d know. This had gone far enough. Far too far, judging by the look Jet slanted his way.

‘Leave it,’ Max growled. ‘We can sort the paperwork later.’

‘But we need—’

‘Get out,’ Jet snapped. ‘We’re busy.’ He looked up, avoiding Max but catching most others in the room as he issued his orders.

‘I’m going to intubate,’ he warned. ‘Oxygen saturation levels have fallen far enough. We need a central venous line in. And an arterial line.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Max offered.

Jet gave his head a negative jerk. ‘On your wife? I don’t think so.’ He nodded at his registrars, giving them the signal to get started. ‘Get some bloods off as well. We need to know her blood group. Stat.’

‘I’d like a rhesus factor and antibodies, too.’ The obstetric consultant was watching the technician begin the ultrasound examination. ‘Looks like we’ve got a central placenta praevia here and she’s in labour. Fully dilated.’

Less than an hour later, in the middle of the life-and-death battle to save Ellie Peters, she gave birth to a tiny baby girl.

There was a paediatric team amongst the crowd in Trauma One now. And a consultant from the intensive care unit, who was a specialist in dealing with haemorrhagic shock resulting from such massive blood loss. Ellie was being cared for. The baby was being carefully assessed.

Having been forced onto the sidelines due to his own admission of involvement, there seemed to be nothing for Max to do other than watch. He was torn between watching the monitors to evaluate the success of the treatment Ellie was receiving and staring at the scrap of humanity the paediatric consultant was bent over.

‘She’s small but doing OK,’ she pronounced eventually. ‘I’m happy with her breathing but the heart rate’s a bit on the slow side. Did I hear someone say the father is here?’

Ellie was deeply unconscious. The obstetrician was happy that the bleeding had ceased now that delivery was complete but the control of the blood loss might have come too late. The mother of this tiny baby was now on a ventilator to manage what looked like adult respiratory distress from fluid loss. Jet and the ICU consultant were worried about her kidneys. Her production of urine had virtually ceased and her most recent blood test showed deterioration in renal function.

Max had done what he’d thought was the right thing in continuing the pretence that he was the baby’s father and he couldn’t back out now. Jet wouldn’t say anything because he’d asked him to back him up and the brotherhood that they made up, along with Rick, was glued together with a loyalty that would never be broken. There were plenty of other people ready to say something, however. To point him out and draw him into the case that this department would be talking about for a very long time.

‘You’re the father?’ The paediatrician didn’t know him so there was no undertone of astonishment. ‘Good. Come with us. We’re going to take your daughter upstairs and she’ll need you.’

Max took a step towards the group looking after the baby. And then another. And then he stopped.

‘I can’t…’ He looked over his shoulder at Ellie. And then back to the baby, now dried and wrapped in soft, warm towels. What the hell had he got himself into here?

Jet’s voice was calm. ‘Nothing you can do for Ellie at the moment, mate,’ he said. ‘We’re going to transfer her up to ICU very soon. Best you go with the baby. I’ll come and update you as soon as I can.’

And wherever the baby was being taken, whether it was a maternity ward or the paediatric ICU, it would be a more private place, Jet’s tone suggested. They would be able to talk about this. Hopefully, they might even be able to sort out the mess Max had created.

It seemed a reasonable plan. Max wasn’t due on duty here in the emergency department until first thing tomorrow morning. They had a whole night to sort things out. Stepping back from taking any responsibility for Ellie might be a good first step. He took another step towards the baby and nodded.

‘Let’s go,’ he agreed.

‘How would you feel about holding her?’

‘Ah…I’m not sure that’s a great idea right now, is it?’

The paediatrician also took another glance at the monitor where the newborn baby’s heart rate was slowing down yet again.

‘It could help. Have you heard of kangaroo care?’

‘No.’ Max was staring at the baby in the plastic crib. It was lying on its side, a soft white hat covering the dark whorls of hair on its head. One arm was bent, a tiny starfish hand resting on its cheek.

Max hadn’t spent this long in the company of a baby this small…ever. He’d participated in a fair few deliveries, of course, throughout his training and then in a short run on O and G but it was a rare occurrence in Emergency and the babies were always whisked off to places like this paediatric intensive care unit. He’d never had a reason to stay involved. He didn’t now, except as a fraud.

He shouldn’t really be here at all.

‘It’s been around since the late seventies,’ the paediatric consultant broke into his guilt. ‘But it’s gaining quite a following. It’s basically skin-to-skin contact with a parent. As long as the infant is medically stable, there’s no reason not to use it and it’s been shown to improve oxygenation and respiratory rates. It can actually make a significant difference to something like bradycardia.’

‘Skin-to-skin?’ Max couldn’t keep the dismay out of his voice. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘You don’t sit around naked.’ The doctor smiled. ‘In fact, the baby needs to be under your own clothing to help maintain body temperature stability.’ Her smile became reassuring rather than amused. ‘I know she looks tiny and fragile and that her arrival was a bit unexpected…’

‘You have no idea,’ Max murmured.

‘And I know you’re worried about Ellie,’ she continued, ‘but this is a way to help everybody, including—maybe especially—yourself.’

‘Oh?’ Max was listening now. He needed to help himself. Fast. ‘How, exactly?’

‘You’ll be doing what Ellie can’t do at the moment, which is caring for her baby. You could well make a big difference medically for this little one.’ She was watching him and a tiny frown line appeared. ‘If you’re really not comfortable, then I can get one of the nursing staff to do it, but it’s far better if it’s a parent. It can be a way of bonding that could make all the difference to the stress of the next few days.’

Max had the sensation of being trapped in a kind of glass box. He was being watched. By the paediatrician and her registrar. By the nurse who was hovering near the crib. Even by other nurses in this unit as they went about their own tasks. They all seemed to have paused right now to hold their breath and see what he was going to do.

They all believed that he was this baby’s father and what kind of a father wouldn’t want to do something that might help his kid? If it became obvious that he had no need—or, let’s face it, desire—to bond with this infant, people might start asking questions. Gossiping at the very least, and the less any of this was talked about the better. For Ellie’s sake.

Which was how all this had started, wasn’t it?

He really would have to be more careful next time, he decided with a wry inward smile as he found himself nodding and then being guided to the comfortable armchair rolled into this corner of the PICU.

A nurse took the layers away from the baby. They left her with a nappy and her hat on, an oxygen saturation monitor clipped to a minuscule toe and some unobtrusive sticky dots and soft wires that connected her to a cardiac monitor. She was mostly naked, Max noted with some alarm. Small and pink and awkward-looking, with stick-like arms and legs.

‘Keep her prone and upright,’ the paediatrician advised. ‘The nurses will keep an eye on you both and levels are set for an alarm to go off if the oxygen levels or cardiac rhythm need interventions.’

Max had sacrificed the neck of his T-shirt so that he didn’t need to discard any of his own clothing. The vertical cut allowed him to fold the neckline down so that the baby’s face would be uncovered. He heard the whimper of the baby as she was picked up.

Good grief…he really didn’t want to do this. Was it too late to back out?

An alarm began to sound. A slow bell that pinged ominously. Maybe the baby didn’t like the idea, either. Her heart rhythm was jumping erratically.

‘Does she need to go back in the crib?’ Max tried not to sound too hopeful.

‘Let’s see how we go for a minute or two.’

With an inward sigh, Max held up the bottom of his old, soft T-shirt while a nurse positioned the baby and then covered her. A layer of the leather jacket came next and then she helped him put his arm in the right place for support. He felt awkward. Uncomfortable.

He could feel the baby wriggle against his chest, moving tiny limbs as if in protest. He could feel the miniature chest heaving as she attempted to breathe and cry at the same time but the effort seemed exhausting and the movements diminished.

Max took a cautious glance downwards and found the baby’s eyes were open. So dark they looked black and they were fixed on him. He took a deep, careful breath and let it out very slowly.

‘Look at that.’ The paediatrician sounded delighted. ‘Heart rate’s coming up and it’s steady.’

They waited another minute as Max sat as still as humanly possible.

‘Looking good,’ came the expert verdict. ‘We’ll leave you to it, Max.’

‘Ah…’ He watched as staff began to disperse. To stop watching, even, from all over the unit. Any second now and he would be virtually on his own. ‘How long should I stay here?’

‘The longer the better,’ a nurse said cheerfully. ‘As long as you can, anyway.’

Max tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He breathed. In and out. He could feel the baby breathing. In that first long, quiet minute of being left to himself he could even feel the baby’s heart beating. A soft, rapid ticking against his chest. Almost on top of his own heart.

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