Christmas Brides And Babies Collection - Rebecca Winters Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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She’d made an irreversible imprint on him in those hours he’d held her in his arms. Blown him away, and he was still in pieces from it. He’d kept telling himself they’d only connected in his last desperate attempt to hold onto someone good before the bad came but he had no doubt she would always hold a sacred piece of his heart.

      In prison he’d separated his old life out of his head. Had kept it from being contaminated by his present. Refused any visitors and stored the mail. But when his defences had been down, when he’d drifted off to sleep, Maeve had slid in beside him, been with him in the morning when he’d woken up, and at night when he’d dreamt. He’d had no control over that.

      But he’d changed. Hardened. Couldn’t help being affected by the experience, and she didn’t need a man like he’d become—so he doubted he’d stay. Just explain and then head back to Sydney to sort out his life. Start fresh when he could find some momentum for beginning. Wasn’t even sure he would return to paediatrics. Felt the need for something physical. Something to use up the coil of explosive energy he’d been accumulating over the last nine months.

      So maybe he’d go somewhere in between for a while where he could just soak up nature and the great outdoors now that he had the freedom to enjoy it.

      Funny how things were never as important until you couldn’t have them. He’d lusted after a timeless rainforest, or a deserted mountain stream, or a lighthouse with endless ocean to soothe his soul.

      Or Maeve, a voice whispered. No.

       CHAPTER TWO

       Maeve

      MAEVE PATTED HER round and rolling belly to soothe the child within. Christmas in Lyrebird Lake. She should have been ecstatic and excited about the imminent birth of her baby.

      Ecstatic about the fact that only yesterday Simon had declared his love to Tara and was engaged to a woman she couldn’t wait to call her sister. She put her fingers over the small muscle at the corner of her eye, which was twitching. But instead she was a mess.

      Her only brother, or half-brother, she supposed she should acknowledge that, seeing she was living in Lyrebird Lake where his birth father lived, was engaged to be married. That was very exciting news.

      And it wasn’t like Simon’s family hadn’t made her welcome. But it wasn’t normal to land on people who didn’t know you for one of the biggest moments of your life even if Simon had always raved about Lyrebird Lake.

      The place was worth raving about. She’d never been so instantly received for who she was, even in her own family, she thought with a tinge of uneasy disloyalty, but that explained why Simon had always been the least judgemental of all her siblings.

      Until she’d slept with Rayne, that was.

      Simon’s other family didn’t know the meaning of the word judgmental. Certainly less than her mother, but that was the way mum was, and she accepted that.

      And she and Simon had re-established some of their previous closeness, mostly thanks to Tara.

      The fabulous Tara. Her new friend and personal midwife was a doll and she couldn’t imagine anyone she would rather have in the family.

      She, Maeve, was an absolute bitch to be depressed by the news but it was so hard to see them so happy when she was so miserable.

      She gave herself a little mental shake. Stop it.

      Glanced out the window to the manger on the lawn. It was Christmas morning, and after nearly four weeks of settling in there was no place more welcoming or peaceful to have her baby.

      So what was wrong with her?

      It was all very well being a midwife, knowing what was coming, but she had this mental vision of her hand being held and it wasn’t going to be Simon’s. Have her brother, in the room while she laboured? Not happening, even if he was an obstetrician.

      No. It would be Tara’s hand that steadied her, which was good but not what she’d secretly and hopelessly dreamt of.

      That scene she’d replayed over in her head a thousand times, him crossing the floor to her after that first glance, and later the feel of his arms around her as he’d carried her so easily up the stairs, the absolutely incredible dominance yet tenderness of his lovemaking. Gooseflesh shimmered on her arms.

      She shook her head. The birth would be fine. It was okay.

      She tried to shake the thought of needing Rayne to get through labour from her mind but it clung like a burr and refused to budge as if caught in the whorls of her cerebral convolutions.

      Which was ridiculous because the fact was Rayne didn’t want her.

      He’d refused to answer her letters or take the call the one time she’d tried to call the prison, had had to go through the horror of finding out his prison number, been transferred to another section, the interminable wait and then the coldness of his refusal to speak to her.

      Obviously he didn’t want her!

      Simon had told her he’d found out he would be in prison for at least two years, maybe even five, and that the charges had been drug related. She, for one, still didn’t believe it.

      But she hated the fact Rayne didn’t want to see her.

      Her belly tightened mildly in sympathy, like it had been tightening for the last couple of weeks every now and then, and she patted the taut, round bulge. It’s okay, baby. Mummy will be sensible. She’ll get over your father one day. But that wasn’t going to happen if she stayed here mooning.

      Maeve sat up and eased her legs out of the bed until her feet were on the floor. Grunted quietly with the effort and then smiled ruefully at herself for the noisy exertion of late pregnancy.

      She needed to go for a walk. Free her mind outside the room. Stay fit for the most strenuous exertion of her life.

      It was time to greet Christmas morning with a smile and a gentle, ambling welcome in the morning air before the Queensland heat glued her to the cool chair under the tree in the back yard. The tables were ready to be set for breakfast and later lunch with Simon’s family and she would put on a smiling face.

      She wondered if Tara was up yet. Her friend had come in late last night with Simon, she’d heard them laughing quietly and the thought made her smile. Two gorgeous people in love. The smile slipped from her face and she dressed as fast as she could in her unbalanced awkwardness and for once didn’t worry about make-up.

      Self-pity was weak and she needed to get over herself. She was the lucky one, having a baby when lots of women ached for the chance, and she couldn’t wait.

      It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a family who loved her, even if her mum was in the States.

      But she had dear Louisa, Simon’s tiny but sprightly grandmother, spoiling them all with her old-fashioned country hospitality and simple joy in kinfolk. She, Maeve, was twenty-five and needed to grow up and enjoy simple pleasures like Louisa did.

      Once outside, she set off towards the town and the air was still refreshingly cool. Normally she would have walked around the lake but it was Sunday, and Simon liked the Sunday papers. Did they print newspapers on Christmas Day? Would the shop even be open? She hadn’t thought of that before she’d left but if it didn’t then that was okay.

      It was easier not to think in the fresh air and distractions of walking with a watermelon-sized belly out front cleared the self-absorbtion.

      Maeve saw the black, low-to-the-ground, old-fashioned utility as it turned into the main street and smiled. A hot rod like you saw at car shows with wide silver wheels and those long red bench seats in the front designed for drive-in movies. It growled down the road like something out of Happy Days, she thought to herself. The square lines and rumbling motor made it stand out from the more family-orientated vehicles she usually

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