When Ellie stopped in front of him her eyes were glowing behind the fine material of the veil and he took her hand in his and felt the tension drain from his shoulders like an eddy rushing from a freshly filled rock pool. Ellie’s dad released his daughter’s hand, smiled wistfully and waved them on.
The sun chose that moment to break free of the ocean and bathed the whole wedding party in golden-pink rays as they rearranged themselves in front of the minister. The crowd drew closer, the waves pounded on the rocks by the cliff, Sam’s hand tightened on Ellie’s and the ceremony began, accompanied by the sound of the gulls overhead.
* * *
Afterwards the wedding breakfast was set out on white-cloth-covered tables on the long veranda of the surf club restaurant that looked out over the bay. The local Country Women’s Association ladies had whipped up a magnificent repast and Ellie’s new husband kept catching her eye with such love, such devotion and pride, she constantly fought back happy tears which she refused to let free. Not now. Not today. She had never thought she could be this happy.
She touched the sleeve of his white tuxedo coat. ‘Sam, let’s take a minute to ourselves. Walk with me on the beach.’ She watched his face soften, saw it glow with love and pride, and those blinking tears that had stung her eyes threatened again. She willed them away.
So they turned down the steps of the surf club, away from the revelries, and people parted smilingly and nudged each other. ‘Let them go. Young lovers.’
Finally it was just Ellie and Sam walking along the beach, barefoot in the morning sunlight, Ellie’s dress hitched over her arm, toes making fresh footprints in virgin sand, and every now and then the froth of the chuckling waves tickled their ankles.
‘I love you, Sam.’
‘I love you too, my wife.’
She hugged the words to herself and used them to make her brave. She had news and she wanted to share it but they hadn’t had a moment together alone all morning.
‘This morning...’ she began, and felt the nerves well. Hoped desperately he would be glad. ‘This morning, I did a test.’
His big, dark brows, those brows she loved and traced at night with her fingers, drew together. He didn’t get it. ‘And did you pass your test?’
‘It was positive.’
She let the words hang suspended with the sound of the sea between them. Squeezed his hand in hers and waited. Felt his fingers still beneath hers.
‘Pregnant?’ His voice was almost a whisper.
Her heart squeezed and she nodded. ‘Our baby. Just weeks in time, but it feels good. The feeling is right. Everything will be fine, Sam.’ She stopped and turned to him, took his face in hers instead of the other way around. Felt the skin of his cheeks tense as he realised what she’d been trying to tell him ‘My darling, everything will be perfect.’
His face stilled and then slowly, ever so slowly, he smiled. It rose from somewhere so deep inside him that she was blinded by the joy she had been so afraid would be missing, consumed instead by fear that what had happened to Bree would happen to her too.
He smiled, then he grinned, picked her up and swung her around as if she were a feather, and then he hugged her. Fiercely. Put her down. Glanced around and then picked her up again. Laughed out loud. Ellie was giddy with relief, giddy with swinging, giddy with Sam.
The only minor glitch would be the time she spent on maternity leave.
* * *
But Lighthouse Bay Mothers and Babies would be fine. Sam had taken the post of Director of Obstetrics at the base hospital an hour away and his father had become the permanent GP for Lighthouse Bay. Soon Ellie would have the midwifery service she dreamed of, because now she had a straight pathway of referral to a higher level of service if needed. She knew the obstetrician in charge—her new husband—very well, and he was extremely supportive. And in the wings was Trina, ready to come off night duty and take over when Ellie stepped down. And after her there was Faith, and then Roz, and other midwives waiting to be a part of the journey travelled by the midwives of Lighthouse Bay.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Fiona McArthur
MIDWIFE’S MISTLETOE BABY
MIDWIFE’S CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL
CHRISTMAS WITH HER EX
GOLD COAST ANGELS: TWO TINY HEARTBEATS
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from THEIR SECRET ROYAL BABY by Carol Marinelli.
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Their Secret Royal Baby
by Carol Marinelli
CHAPTER ONE
‘DID YOU GO home for Christmas, Elias?’
It was coming up for midnight and it was the first chance for the staff to have a catch-up after a busy few hours in Accident and Emergency.
Mandy, the nurse in charge tonight, had brought around a tray of coffee and cake and was in the mood for a chat.
‘No.’ Elias shook his head and took a very welcome drink as he wrote down his findings on Mr Evans—a patient that he had just referred to Cardiology.
‘Did you work it, then?’ Mandy asked.
Elias Santini was a locum Accident and Emergency registrar and, for the last few months, had worked at several locations across London, though he was fairly regular at The Royal. This meant that, as he became more familiar, people wanted to know more about his life.
‘No,’ Elias said. ‘I just took a couple of weeks off and travelled. I saw in the New Year in Scotland.’
It was rare that Elias volunteered information about what he got up to in his personal life. Possibly he offered that sliver of information to distract Mandy from what he was sure she had been about to ask.
It didn’t work, though.
The question still came. ‘Where exactly is home?’
It would be easier to lie.
With his dark good looks and rich accent, Elias could say he was from Italy or Greece. He spoke both languages and could easily carry either off, but he didn’t want to lie and neither did he want to deny his heritage.
He hadn’t wanted to reveal it before.
Yet he was starting to feel ready to now.
‘Medrindos,’ Elias answered.
‘Oh!’ Mandy exclaimed. ‘Mark and I went there on our honeymoon! We’d love to go back someday and see if it’s still as beautiful as we remember.’
‘It is,’ Elias assured her.
‘Where are you talking about?’ V
alerie, another nurse on tonight, asked as she selected a cake.
‘Medrindos. Where Elias is from,’ Mandy told her. ‘It’s an island in the Mediterranean and it’s stunning.’
It was, in fact, a small but extremely wealthy principality, though Mandy was right in her description. Medrindos really was stunning. It was an absolute jewel in the Mediterranean and an expensive holiday location. Mandy chatted about the pristine beaches and azure water, as well as the churches and the palace, while Elias carried on writing his notes.
And, while he didn’t deny his country, he chose not to mention that he was a prince there, and second in line to the throne.
Soon, Elias knew from experience, he would be outed as a royal.
Maybe something would come on the news, or Mandy would go on the internet for a quick reminisce and would see pictures of the royal family, or she would read some headline about the errant young royals. His brother was currently kicking up his heels on board the royal yacht and partying hard in the South of France.
Elias knew he would soon be recognised, or the press would discover that he was working here, as had happened when he’d been a doctor in Oxford. The ensuing publicity had meant that the palace had summoned him home and for a couple of years Elias had lived the same depraved, albeit luxurious, lifestyle that his brother Andros adhered to.
Scandal had abounded but that didn’t seem to matter, just so long as he remained in the fold. ‘Princes will be princes,’ his mother would say when another salacious article appeared. There had been one that hadn’t been so readily dismissed. Elias had run into the inevitable trouble that awaited a man in his position—a heavily pregnant woman had gone to the press saying that she was carrying his child.
Despite Elias’s assurances that there was no need for them to do so, the palace had set their lawyers and PR people into action. They had even worked out the payments should the baby prove to be his.
They had ignored two pertinent details, though.
Yes, there were pictures of the woman with Elias at a prominent London wedding and, yes, they had both attended the same gathering back in a luxury hotel.
But they hadn’t slept together.
And had his mother known him at all, the other detail should have made her laugh at the absurdity of it all—the woman claimed Elias had told her he loved her.
Elias had never even thought, let alone uttered, those words to anyone.
No one had cared to hear that, though; instead, they had awaited the DNA result. Everyone, except Elias, had breathed a sigh of relief when the results had proved the baby was not his.
He had always known.
Elias had emerged from the scandal even more jaded—the life of a young single royal, though fun at first, had soon turned into what had felt a rather pointless existence. He didn’t want to spend his life attending lavish parties, long-winded functions and openings, or getting wasted on the royal yacht.
It had felt empty and meaningless and when he’d discussed it with his parents they’d suggested that he marry. Princess Sophie of Theodora was their choice for him. They’d refused to accept his love for medicine and he’d refused to marry at his parents’ command and so, six or so months ago, he had left it all behind and moved back to England, though to London this time.
He returned to Medrindos for formal occasions when his presence was required but here in London he relished the freedom of people not knowing his royal status. It came with its own unique difficulties—Elias held back from others and maintained his distance, yet it was a price that he had been willing to pay for this rare chance of normalcy and to do the job he loved.
Elias wanted more now, though.
He looked over as Roger, the consultant in charge tonight, returned from examining a patient.
‘How’s Mr Evans?’ Roger asked.
‘I’ve just referred him to Cardiology,’ Elias said, ‘but they’re busy with a patient on ICU so it might be a while before they can come down and see him.’
‘Why don’t you go and grab some sleep while it’s quiet?’ Roger suggested.
Roger would finish at nine in the morning, whereas Elias was on call for the whole weekend.
It felt a little too early to be taking a break but he knew to seize the chance to rest when it arose, for it could be a long while before the department was quiet again.
‘Sure.’ Elias drained his mug of coffee but as he went to go, he changed his mind.
‘Roger, I was wondering if I could speak to you on Monday.’
‘You can speak to me now,’ Roger said, but Mandy was hovering and Elias wanted to do this properly.
‘I’d rather speak on Monday.’
‘How about I come in at eight thirty?’ Roger suggested. ‘We can speak before you go home.
‘I’d like that.’ Elias said.
He walked through the department and around to the observation ward. Behind that was the staffroom and the on-call room.
An elderly gentleman who Elias had admitted to the observation ward a couple of hours earlier was singing ‘I Belong to Glasgow’, even though they were in the heart of London.
Elias shared a smile with the nurse sitting at the desk.
‘I need earplugs,’ she said. ‘I think he’ll be singing for a while.’
The singing followed him into the on-call room and Elias looked for the white-noise machine so that he could turn it on and block out the noise from outside.
He couldn’t find it but knew that it would be in here somewhere.
Sometimes, if a new cleaner started, they put it away so he checked the cupboards.
There it was.
Elias turned it on and flicked off the light.
He kept his runners on and just stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.
The white-noise machine was good but it didn’t completely block out the sound and he could hear the deep baritone voice.
‘I belong...’
He was starting to feel that maybe he belonged here.
He liked London.
Oh, he would always belong to Medrindos, as his parents frequently pointed out. But he was starting to think that perhaps he could juggle both.
Yes, Mandy or someone else would soon work out who he was but he was prepared for that. He would soon turn thirty and knew he wanted to specialise in Accident and Emergency. He had completed two years of military service for his country but had then pushed to study medicine in England.
His royal status meant that it was impossible to practise medicine in Medrindos.
Elias loved his country very much and his parents ran it well.
And therein lay the problem.
It was a wealthy principality and there was very little for the second in line to the throne to actually do. His father, Bruno, was sixty and, with their genes, was likely to rule for another thirty years. His errant brother, Andros, would then take over the throne.
Elias wanted to pursue his career in medicine; he wanted to test and stretch his skills. He was thinking of applying for a placement so that he could become a registrar in the department and work his way up to consultant.
He drifted off to sleep. No dreams, no nightmares, no thoughts.
At least, not at first.
But then he fell into a deeper sleep.
Perhaps it was the strong Scottish accent from the vocalist outside that guided his dreams because his mind wandered back to that night.
The night he had walked away from it all...
There he was, aboard the royal yacht after weeks spent cruising around the Greek islands. On this night he and Andros were hosting a lavish party.
Princess Sophie was there, and not by chance.
It had been suggested by Alvera, Head of Palace Public Relations, that they be seen dancing to
night and that tomorrow they could be spotted on shore, having breakfast.
Their people wanted a wedding and to see one of the young Princes settled down.
He looked over at Sophie and she appeared as excited at the prospect of getting things started as he.
She gave him a pale smile.
Both their countries wanted this union and were waiting with bated breath for it to start. Sophie and Elias knew that one dance, one kiss would mean that their relationship had begun. And even though it would all, for a while, be unofficial, to end things once they had begun would cause great embarrassment for Sophie and her family.
Better not to start things until they were sure.
And so, instead of walking towards her, Elias selected an unopened bottle of champagne and made a discreet exit.
No one noticed him leave and walk along the pier. He was dressed in black evening trousers and a fitted white shirt and was barefoot.
He walked onto the beach, enjoying the night and the feel of sand beneath his feet and the freedom. Not dancing with Sophie had bought him some time. Not much, as they were betrothed in their families’ eyes. It really was just a matter of time before it was made official.
Oh, there would be a price to pay for refusing to toe the line but he was more than used to that.
Really, he only spoke with his mother when there was a scandal that needed to be ironed out or a tradition that needed to be upheld. It had been the same growing up. Queen Margarita had rarely put in an appearance in her sons’ lives. There had been nannies to take care of all that. She might come into the nursery once the young Princes had been given supper to say goodnight.
His earliest memory was of his mother coming into the nursery. He had been so excited to see her that he had spilled his drink and she had recoiled.
‘Can someone deal with Elias?’ she had asked.
They had moved on from spilt milk but the sentiment was the same.
Elias, though, neither wanted nor needed to be dealt with.
A Month to Marry the Midwife Page 15