The Pregnant Midwife. Fiona McArthur
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Kirsten sagged onto the floor as she reached the cavern, and a fear greater than any Hunter had ever experienced crashed in on him.
He scooped her up and pressed her cold cheek to his, then carried her to the fire and kicked the remaining pile of wood onto it to build it up. With fumbling fingers he stripped off her shirt, peeling it away from the deathly pale whiteness of her damp skin. He pulled off her shoes and wet socks and her trousers until she sagged against him in a tiny pair of pink lacy underpants and bra, all cold legs and arms as she shivered.
Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled it open and then took his trousers off, and dragged her back against the warmth of his chest and legs in front of the fire. She sighed into him, burying her face in his chest as if to hide from the cold deep within her. Hunter wrapped himself and his shirt around her, closing her inside the cocoon of his own body heat.
“You’re so warm,” Kirsten murmured. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll be here as long as you need me.” Hunter hugged her tighter. He cupped her cheek in his hand and dropped a kiss on her lips without even realizing he’d done it.
The Marriage and Maternity trilogy is about three dedicated and devoted sisters who believe that marriage and midwifery don’t mix. While the books stand alone, they are linked by the impact each sister has on her siblings’ life. After sharing more than a year with them, I feel as though the Wilson sisters are part of my own family. I wish they were.
In The Pregnant Midwife, Kirsten is the adventurer and does all the things I’d love to do. She’s worked around the world, moved from the birth aspect of midwifery to the baby side as she cares for critically ill newborns and children and, privately, she’s made independence an art form. The baby of the family, Kirsten shares the special bond with her sisters that people outside the circle can’t understand. To Hunter Morgan, everything about Kirsten is mysterious. I hope you enjoy your time with Kirsten and Hunter as they venture on the flight of their life.
Very best wishes,
Fiona McArthur
The Pregnant Midwife
Fiona McArthur
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
Dubai—United Arab Emirates
THE crack of the starter gun echoed across the desert and silenced the noisy crowd for a heartbeat as the annual doctors versus nurses camel race began.
Hunter Morgan, paediatrician and contestant for the doctors’ side of the neonatal nursery, kicked his camel into a gallop as the crowd roared. Ex-patriot medical staff can’t get out much, he thought with a wry grin, though he noticed even some black-robed Arabs were among the throng. He wondered fleetingly what the attraction was in the hospital games for them.
To be honest, he wouldn’t have been here if Kirsten Wilson hadn’t dared him. She was a determined woman. She’d cornered him in the neonatal unit and he could still remember her enchanting tenacity as she’d ensured his participation. She’d promised to pound on his door in the dark if he didn’t show, to let the tyres of his car down, to tell everyone she was pregnant with his baby, and he stifled a laugh at what a frenzy of gossip that would have caused.
It was his own fault people took bets on any sign that his immunity to women was failing—he’d never weakened before.
Still, Kirsten had made him laugh more in the last few months than he had in the last five years.
She was an amazing woman. Hunter clamped his lips shut to stop the flying sand from coating his tongue. He pulled his scarf more closely into his face, despite the early heat, and wiped his eyes so he could focus on the delicate shoulders of the woman riding in front.
Kirsten was tall for a woman, he knew that. When she was standing in front of him in the unit, he could just see over her head. He used that trick to keep the mental distance between them. He’d discovered if he spent too long looking into her wonderfully expressive face he’d lose track of what she was saying and just enjoy the show.
He really didn’t think she was aware that she threatened his peace of mind.
The first marker was coming up and she still sat lightly, and delightfully, on her throne-like seat as if she’d grown up there. He wasn’t quite as comfortable but that didn’t mean he couldn’t win.
Dormant competitiveness surfaced where it had been