‘Rob, Alec, I know you’ve both been worried to death about her—hell’s teeth, we all have—but right now if I don’t have some time alone with her, to ram a few truths into her foolish head, I’ll go mad.’
Her father looked amused, but Rob, always her defender, took offence at Mac’s tone.
‘We’ll only leave if she asks us to go,’ he said, then he turned to Amelia. ‘You want us out of here, Bug?’
Amelia shrugged, then said, ‘Not really, but I’ve seen him lose his temper with bigger people than you, so maybe you’d better go and let him have his say.’
They both bent and kissed her cheek, then left, though Amelia suspected Rob would hover outside the door, ready to return if she needed him.
Mac shut the door, then came over to the bed, running his fingers through his hair and looking as confused as she’d ever seen him.
‘I haven’t a clue where to begin, Peterson,’ he said. ‘You’ve got me so tied up in knots I don’t know which way’s up.’
He slumped into the chair and reached out to take her hand, clutching it as if it might lead him out of his confusion.
‘Jessica—I’ll start there, though how you ever got the stupid idea I might be interested in her I’ll never know!’
He frowned to impress her stupidity on her, but Amelia wasn’t worried by his frowns. She was holding her breath, wondering just what was to come—wondering if, by some miraculous chance, Mac’s confusion might be connected to her, to the way he felt about her…
‘I moved into that townhouse after the divorce—it’s all I got out of it, and when the tenants left I thought I might as well use the darned place. Jessica lived next door then, and right from the start she showed she was interested in me. As you can imagine, Peterson, a woman was the last thing I needed in my life.’
Amelia’s heart sank at the switch back to being ‘Peterson’, and a little further with the final phrase, but she had no time to brood over her reaction as he was talking again.
‘She had a key and did the cake and biscuit thing, and I thought she was being neighbourly, but it went too far. She’s stalking me, Peterson.’
Amelia would have laughed at the outrage in his voice if she wasn’t still his old colleague Peterson, not his love Amelia or even Little Bug!
‘She left flowers, meals, presents, then lately she started leaving photos. You probably saw one in the bedroom that she must have sneaked in when I was in hospital, and she sent another one last week. The woman’s mad, but I think she’s harmless—well, I thought she was until you got it into your thick head I had some kind of interest in her.’
He glared at Amelia as if expecting some reply to what he saw as treachery on her part, but she was telling her over-excited heart that Mac not being in love with Jessica was one thing, but didn’t automatically mean he might be even slightly in love with anyone else—namely one Amelia Peterson!
‘Well, haven’t you anything to say for yourself?’ he demanded.
Amelia shrugged and tried for total cool.
‘It’s actually none of my business whether you’re interested in her or not.’
Her voice wavered so much she missed cool by a mile, then she remembered something else.
‘And what about the dinner at Capriccio’s? The receipt was dated only a few days after you’d asked me to be your occasional lover. If you didn’t take Jessica to dinner there, who did you take? It certainly wasn’t me!’
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him—knowing she’d caught him now.
He was frowning as if he had no idea what Capriccio’s was, let alone who he might have taken there, then his brow cleared and he laughed, the sound so joyous and familiar Amelia’s heart jolted with the pain of loving him.
‘Going through my pockets, were you?’
‘I was not,’ Amelia objected huffily. ‘You gave me the receipt—you wrote your phone numbers on it. Dinner for two!’
Mac continued to smile.
‘I can even tell you the date,’ he said. ‘It was the last MAC meeting I attended. I took Enid Biggs to dinner to talk her into agreeing with your in-service training idea.’
Now he folded his arms, leaning back in the chair with self-righteous satisfaction. But it wasn’t his look that affected Amelia—more the content of his words.
‘You took Enid Biggs out to dinner?’
He nodded, looking almost smug.
‘For me?’
Another nod, then his innate honesty must have prompted him to add, ‘Well, I could see the benefit to the department, and with the possibility of St Pat’s getting the major trauma centre…’
He left the sentence unfinished, and edged the chair nearer the bed.
‘Now, is there anything else you want to yell at me about, or do you think maybe I could kiss you?’
Amelia looked into the deep-set eyes, and saw the softness she’d seen as they’d made love. Her insides liquefied, and all she wanted to do was reach out and take him in her arms—to hold him and be held by him.
For ever!
But there was more at stake than her feelings and emotions. Mac had reacted well to her pregnancy, but to tie him to her now would be unfair.
Was she strong enough to let him go?
Strong enough to pretend it was what she wanted?
She took her lead from him, and faced him as she had so often—as a colleague, not a lover.
‘I have not yelled at all,’ she said, summoning every drop of dignity she possessed. ‘In fact, yelling would probably hurt my stitches, but the fact remains, Mac, that we’re no longer tied by a pregnancy, and though you were absolutely wonderful…’ Her voice was breaking up but she hoped he’d put that down to hoarseness from the tube she’d had down her throat during and just after the operation. ‘There’s no need for you to feel obliged to stick around. We’re both free to go our own way now, which is really good, don’t you think?’
She finally wavered to a halt and looked anxiously into his face, trying to read a response.
‘No!’ he said, though his face remained impassive.
‘What do you mean, no?’
‘No, I don’t think it’s really good,’ he elaborated. ‘And I’m going to put it down to the fact that you’re still far from well, because that’s the only explanation I can find for you to be talking such utter nonsense.’
He reached out and took her hand again, and leaned forward so his face was only inches from hers.
‘When that madman had you in his arms, Peterson, I thought my world was coming to an end. I realised that without you life wouldn’t be worth living.’
He leaned forward a little more and threaded his fingers into her hair.
‘Amelia? Little Bug? You know me well enough to know I can’t do flowery speeches and that I’m more likely to yell at you than pay you pretty compliments, but you’ve become dearer to me than life itself, closer to my heart than I could ever imagine, more important to me than my work, or my health, or anything I can think of.’
Amelia heard the words but, more, she heard the truth in his voice, and her heart thudded with a hope too overwhelming to put into words.
‘It’s your turn to say something,’ he said, the huskiness in his voice vibrating along her nerves. ‘I know you’re still weak from what’s happened, but it’s only one word, Amelia. One little “yes”, that’s all I want from you.’
Amelia did a mental replay of words already engraved in her mind.
‘Yes?’ she queried. ‘But you didn’t ask me anything.’
Mac frowned.
‘Of course I did. I asked you to marry me, surely you worked that out.’
He sounded so put out Amelia had to smile, then she reached up and rested her hand against his cheek.
‘What about love?’ she asked. ‘You haven’t mentioned that.’
‘I must have—weren’t you listening? Love’s all part of it, Amelia. That’s what’s rocked me so much. To think that after wasting all this time
, I’d fall in love with a little snip of a thing who’s been right under my nose for years. Of course I love you. Now it’s your turn again. And not to argue, just to say you love me, too, and, yes, you’d love to marry me.’
He looked so anxious Amelia drew his head down towards her and kissed him softly on the lips.
‘Yes, Mac, I love you, too, and I’d love to marry you.’
She kissed him again, then released him, pushing him far enough back she could look into his eyes.
‘That’s if you ask me properly.’
Mac growled, but in the end he did ask properly, kneeling by the hospital bed, Amelia’s hand clasped against his chest so she could feel the thudding of his heart as it beat a rhythm so in tune with hers she knew this love would last for ever.
EPILOGUE
FIFTEEN months later, Amelia was in hospital again, although this time in a different ward. Her room was awash with flowers, though very few of them were visible, the bed being surrounded by a surfeit of grumbling visitors.
‘It’s not that we’re not pleased to see you, Bug,’ Alistair was saying earnestly, while Carl and Rowley chatted to Mac’s parents, ‘but we can see you anytime. We really came to see the baby. There we all stood, like big galoots, peering in through the glass window of the nursery, admiring every baby wrapped in a blue blanket. It wasn’t until Mum and Dad arrived, and Mum cast her grandmotherly eye over all the babies available for inspection and shook her head, that we realised he wasn’t there.’
‘Apparently Mac arrived just before us,’ Carl explained, turning towards the bed, ‘and whisked his son away.’
‘Well, they won’t have gone far,’ Amelia said, moving over in the bed to make room for her mother to perch on one side.
‘No?’ Alec McDougal said, cocking an eyebrow in Amelia’s direction. ‘When Petra was born, he carried her around half the hospital, introducing her to all the staff on duty, from the lowliest porter to the Medical Superintendent or whoever it is runs the place.’
‘And that was just his niece,’ Marion McDougal added. ‘Think how much prouder he’d be of his own son.’
Amelia chuckled, but had to acknowledge Mac’s parents were right. If people could actually burst with pride, it was a wonder it hadn’t happened to Mac. He’d been with her right through the delivery, though he’d harassed the staff so constantly it was a wonder he’d been allowed to stay, but when the small, slippery baby had been placed in his hands he’d been speechless, simply staring at the red, squalling bundle while tears had slid unchecked down his cheeks. Her beloved ogre reduced to silent wonderment by the miracle of birth.
And though she smiled at the memory, she had to admit it hadn’t taken him long to recover, issuing orders about the care of his son to all and sundry.
‘It doesn’t make you feel redundant, this obsession Mac has with the baby?’
Charlotte, who’d just arrived and been told about the ‘Grand Tour,’ moved close enough to kiss Amelia’s cheek and hand her more flowers.
‘Not in the slightest,’ Amelia told her honestly, her own eyes growing misty as she remembered the aftermath of the birth, when the baby had been taken away to be washed and dressed, and she and Mac had finally had some time alone.
‘What are you going to call him?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Mac said you still hadn’t decided.’
‘Yes, we have.’
Mac answered as he walked in, the baby looking even tinier when tucked against his tall frame.
‘We’re calling him Connor.’ He smiled across at Amelia, who was so startled by this announcement she could only stare at him. ‘So you can all meet him, then I want you out of here. My wife’s had a long, hard labour and needs to rest.’
He shot Amelia a look that dared her to argue, but she had no intention of arguing. She loved her family, and had grown close to Mac’s as well, but she’d slept for hours after the delivery and so had barely had time to get to know her son—let alone see much of her husband who, at some time between when she’d seen him briefly an hour ago and now, had decided to go along with her choice of a name.
‘Why?’ she asked, when the visitors had left and Connor was sleeping soundly in a crib by her bed.
‘Why Connor?’ Mac asked, making himself comfortable on her bed. His back was resting against her pillows, his long legs were stretched out on the bed and one arm held her firmly against his body.
He turned and smiled at her, then brushed a gentle kiss across her lips.
‘Because it was the name chosen by the most wonderful woman in the world, that’s why. I know I argued and blustered and said it was Irish and didn’t go with a Scottish surname, but you must have known, in the end, I’d give in to you. Don’t I always?’
He kissed her again, but Amelia wasn’t distracted by this tactic, kissing him back then moving away so she could remind him of a couple of dozen times that sprang immediately to mind when he hadn’t come even close to giving in to her.
Mac laughed, and hugged her closer.
‘But in the important things, we usually agree,’ he reminded her.
He traced the contours of her face with his finger.
‘Don’t we, Little Bug?’
She didn’t argue—couldn’t—because the love shining in his eyes had taken her breath away and left a lump the size of Ireland in her throat.
‘And though I’m proud of Connor, and thrilled to be a father, and really love this family thing, you’re still my miracle, Amelia. So much so I sometimes wonder what I’ve done to deserve such luck and happiness. In fact…’ he kissed her again as if he needed the contact to sort out his thoughts ‘…if I didn’t know you’d hate it, I’d carry you around the hospital the way I carried Connor, just so everyone could see what a lucky man I am.’
Amelia smiled at him.
‘We wouldn’t get very far,’ she said. ‘I reckon before we were out of the maternity ward you’d be telling me I should be lying differently, or you’d see a patient you first met in A and E and would probably forget you were holding me, drop me on the ground and rush over to check she was being treated properly.’
‘Nonsense,’ Mac growled, kissing her again. ‘I’d at least set you on your feet.’
ISBN: 978-1-4603-5592-3
THE PREGNANCY PROPOSITION
First North American Publication 2003
Copyright © 2003 by Meredith Webber
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The Pregnancy Proposition Page 16