Miracle: Marriage Reunited

Miracle: Marriage Reunited
Anne Fraser

Miracle: Marriage Reunited

Anne Fraser

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#ub0c9b69a-717d-5971-ac3a-13175c981585)

Title Page (#u56bc0dcc-6069-57d0-8523-1df6fbcb78b1)

About The Author (#ub17c027d-f31d-5aff-8900-6d7c3b3b8c3d)

Chapter One (#u4bb8fb50-9bf4-5ead-8a00-7fed1e0d485b)

Chapter Two (#u0c018fb1-705d-549d-a9ce-e2d0eb724d11)

Chapter Three (#u09c8916f-744c-5cc4-8d4d-57b7aaca4980)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Anne Fraser was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.

Chapter One

DR ROBINA ZONDI studied the austere man addressing the conference delegates and sucked in her breath. Dr Niall Ferguson, the keynote speaker and the man on whom the success of her book depended, was disturbingly good looking and surprisingly sexy. Somehow she had expected someone middle-aged, not this Adonis with a beak of a nose that prevented fine features from being too beautiful. He couldn’t be more than thirty—thirty-five tops. Young surely to exude such easy confidence. As he spoke, he pushed a lock of dark hair which kept flopping across his brow aside with impatient fingers.

She had looked him up on the internet, but there had been no photographs accompanying the rather dry but impressively long list of credentials. She certainly hadn’t expected to be enthralled—as everyone else in the conference appeared to be—by his presentation. No polite, bored coughing had interrupted the smooth flow of words, as he emphasised key points in his lilting Scottish accent. It was a flawless and professional performance and as soon as the question-and-answer session was over, he was surrounded by journalists and attendees all vying for his attention.

This was going to be harder than she’d anticipated. The butterflies that had been setting up home in her stomach were creating havoc. It was very likely that he would send her away with a flea in her ear, but Robina had never been one to give up without trying. If her easy-to-read guide on infertility were to be taken seriously, she needed someone of his stature to give it his seal of approval. Her publishing company had sent him a copy, but he hadn’t even had the decency to acknowledge its receipt. To be fair, he probably had loads of people wanting his views or his endorsement. When she had read on the internet that he was to attend a conference in Cape Town, the opportunity to ask him face to face had seemed too good to miss.

Robina waited until he was finally alone before approaching him.

‘Dr Ferguson, may I have a word?’ Blue eyes, the colour of the rarest of Kimberley diamonds, looked up. He frowned as if trying to place who she was.

‘You don’t know me,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m Dr Robina Zondi. I know you’re a busy man, but could I have a minute?’

He stood and Robina was disconcerted to find that he towered over her. Taller than he had appeared at the podium, he had to be at least six feet three. It was all she could do not to take a step back.

‘Of course,’ he said politely. ‘Please have a seat.’

Robina dipped into her briefcase and pulled out a copy of her book.

‘I hope you don’t mind, Dr Ferguson,’ she said quickly before her courage failed her, ‘but I have a favour to ask you.’ She handed him the book.

‘A Guide to Infertility,’ he said quietly, glancing at the cover. ‘How can I help?’ He smiled encouragingly and his face relaxed, making him seem more human and even more devastatingly handsome.

But before she could launch into her carefully prepared speech, a short, dark-skinned man appeared and elbowed his way past Robina. ‘Dr Ferguson, I’m Professor Lessing, based at Groote Schuur Hospital. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks now, and I wondered if I could have a moment?’ He glanced at his watch, making it clear that he was a busy man.

‘I’m sorry, Professor,’ Dr Ferguson said in his deep lilting voice that made Robina think of water rushing over rocks, ‘but I’m afraid this lady got here first. Perhaps we could schedule a time later on?’

‘Please, go ahead,’ Robina interrupted. ‘I can wait. Actually, I’m dying for something to drink, so can I get you something while you speak to this gentleman?’

‘You wouldn’t mind? In that case a glass of iced water would be great.’ He grinned and a dimple appeared at the side of his mouth. Robina’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to tell herself it was just nervousness about her book that was turning her legs to jelly and her mouth to dust. February in Cape Town was hot enough without being in a crowded room where the air-conditioning had broken down. If Dr Ferguson was feeling the heat, he gave no sign of it.

By the time she fought her way back through the crowds with three glasses of iced water on a tray, it looked as if whatever the professor had been discussing with their guest speaker hadn’t made him very happy. Just as Robina approached, the older man leapt to his feet, knocking the tray of drinks from her hands. Robina watched in horror as three glasses spun in the air, spilling ice cubes and water over Dr Ferguson and his companion.

‘For God’s sake, woman,’ Professor Lessing growled, dabbing at his suit. ‘How can you be so careless?’

Robina glared back. It hadn’t been her fault. If he hadn’t jumped to his feet without looking, the drinks would have stayed on the tray. She bit back the words and glanced at Niall. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

‘I don’t know about anyone else,’ he said slowly, ‘but a cool shower was just what I needed.’ He looked at Robina and grinned.

‘Stupid girl,’ the professor muttered irritably, still dabbing at his suit.

All of a sudden the smile left Dr Ferguson’s face. ‘What did you say?’ he asked quietly.

‘She should have looked where she was going.’

Dr Ferguson’s eyes glittered. ‘I think we all know whose fault it was. Now, Professor, if you would excuse us?’

The older man looked as if he were about to protest, but something in Niall’s expression stopped him in his tracks. ‘I don’t see any further need to meet again,’ he said tightly. ‘You’ve made your position quite clear.’ And with that he turned on his heel and left.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Robina said.

‘Don’t be. The man has an over-inflated opinion of himself. And he’s a bore—even more unforgivable. You did me a favour, actually. He wants me to put my name to some paper he’s presenting, but I told him I’m not interested. I’m afraid he wasn’t too happy.’ He sat back down in his chair, indicating to Robina that she sit too. ‘Now, where were we?’