Baby for the Midwife: The Midwife's Baby / Spanish Doctor, Pregnant Midwife / Countdown to Baby

Normally Tayla was a very attractive woman but in this instance he decided he might have had a lucky escape. He stayed motionless, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed, and waited for his fiancée to see her cousin was not alone.

Tayla saw no one except Georgia. ‘You had to do it. Had to ruin everything. If anyone could do it, it would be you! I knew you shouldn’t have been my matron of honour but my father had to have his way. Well I’m not the only one who’s a laughing stock. Serves him right.’

‘I’m so sorry, Tayla.’ Georgia wilted against the pillows and closed her eyes, and Max realised that the ridiculous behaviour of Tayla was upsetting the new mother.

‘You will be!’Tayla spat, and Max stepped away from the wall.

‘That’s enough.’ His voice was very quiet but sliced off Tayla’s words as if he’d swathed his arm through the air like a conductor. Tayla froze before turning slowly to face him.

‘Max?’ She stamped her foot and another tiny white feather puffed into the air. ‘I knew you must have stayed with her.’

‘Obviously,’ he drawled, and then regretted his provocativeness for Georgia’s sake. Outside work interference it was probably the first time he’d made the effort to check Tayla. Maybe he had let every-thing slide too much in his obsession to land this job.

‘Look at your suit!’ Tayla was slow to see the dangerous glint in Max’s eye. ‘And why did you have to be the one to go with her? There were half a dozen obstetricians there but, no, you had to leave me at the altar like a fool.’

Max glanced across at Georgia and the sleeping baby. ‘I’m sorry about your wedding, Tayla,’ he said. ‘But perhaps in private and later.’

Tayla faltered and stretched her face into a smile, finally connecting Max’s displeasure. ‘It was your wedding, too.’ The plaintive note sounded clearly. ‘And the magazine was there taking photos. No wonder we couldn’t find you when the ambulance turned up. When it was called off my father searched everywhere for you.’

‘Your father would have done better to spend his time checking on his new great-niece.’ Max raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m sure you, too, were concerned that Georgia’s baby almost lost her life.’

Tayla glanced at the baby in Georgia’s arms with barely concealed disinterest. ‘Of course.’ She dragged her arm across her face. ‘It’s been such a horrible morning. I think they will still print the photos from the church but as a disaster now. I’ve been quite distraught.’ And quietly she began to sob.

Max dropped his jaw in amazement and Georgia shifted her baby up to her shoulder and slid to the edge of the bed.

In sudden clarity Max realised if he didn’t step in Georgia would rise from her bed to comfort her cousin and take all the blame for something that no one could have prevented.

‘Stay there, Georgia. Rest. You’ve had a big morning, too. I’ll take Tayla away and calm her down.’

Tayla lifted her head and he admitted she cried very prettily but some of the sterling reasons he’d had for marrying her had strangely seeped away.

‘Come on, Tayla,’ he said more gently. She really had been excited about the magazine shoot and he needed to be more patient. ‘I’ll make you a coffee in the consultants’ tearoom and we can talk.’ He turned her towards the door and glanced over his shoulder at the woman in the bed.

‘Look after Thor.’

The sweetness of his smile made the lump of tears in Georgia’s chest swell even more and she nodded stupidly and watched him leave.

She’d have to name her daughter or she’d begun to think of her as Thor. The problem was she’d only chosen boys names. More reason to dislike the inaccuracy of ultrasounds.

Actually, she would like to call her Maxine but no doubt the affinity she felt towards a certain obstetrician would pass. She was never falling for that again.

She wouldn’t be calling her daughter after her father because the memories of Sol’s dangerous possessiveness left her quivering in her bed. She shuddered and forced her mind back to the present.

Her daughter was like a little lioness with her roar and her power and her aggressive hold on life. No man would try to run her life. She should call her Elsa after the lioness in Born Free. Actually, she liked that. She liked it a lot.

‘Hello, Elsa.’ Elsa opened one dark blue eye and glared at her mother before thick black lashes fluttered down again and she drifted back to sleep.

Well, that was settled. She looked up as a knock sounded at the door and her uncle poked his head around it.

‘You available for visitors?’

‘Come in, Harry.’ She gestured to the seat beside the bed and her nearest living relative sank onto the hard plastic with relief. He peered at the baby in her arms.

‘So she’s well? No ill effects from her dramatic entry into the world?’ He lifted one finger and stroked the baby’s soft hair.

‘The paediatrician said she’ll be fine. Because Elsa was so vigorous at birth, we’re sure she coped with whatever fall in oxygen she suffered.’

Harry raised his bushy white eyebrows. ‘Elsa. Strong name. Still, you must have been terrified. I’m glad you’re both well. I gather Max did a great job.’

‘He was very calm and caught her beautifully.’ She leaned towards her uncle. ‘I’m so sorry about Tayla’s wedding.’

‘Water under the bridge.’ He looked at her and they both smiled at the poor pun. ‘Tayla threw hysterics in the church when the limo drove off. I was glad to get out of there.’

Georgia bit her lip. She felt too guilty to smile at her uncle’s dry amusement. ‘She’s with Max now. I’m sure he’ll calm her down.’

‘She’d better show a more attractive side than I saw this morning or it won’t matter how much he needs a wife.’ Her uncle looked at Georgia quickly and then away.

‘I did not say that.’ Distressed, he rubbed his gnarled hands together. He was a self-made success and proud of his hands, but he wasn’t proud of that slip. ‘I’m an old man and get mixed up sometimes.’

He looked around the room—anywhere but at Georgia. ‘You look after young Elsa here and I’ll see you soon.’ Harry bent down and kissed her cheek before he lumbered out of the room as fast as he could.

Georgia stared after him. ‘Good grief,’ she said out loud. ‘What do you make of that, Elsa?’

‘So you’ve named her?’ Max spoke from the door. Georgia looked serene and competent with the baby nestled in her arms, and he stifled the pang of pain he’d thought he’d got over about not having children.

Imagine someone like her to come home to after work. During his engagement Max had eventually realised that at best Tayla would fly to visit him every few weeks and he’d accepted she would continue with her life as charity social queen.

At the time it had seemed enough because he could never offer a maternal woman a family and Tayla made no secret of the fact that she didn’t want children. A realistic Tayla was better than the beauties who had chorused that IVF would do the trick.

Imagine if it had been possible to marry someone like Georgia? They could have even worked together and he’d have a real insight into the care the women were receiving.

Enough. He wouldn’t be searching for another wife. One close shave was enough. Maybe he could run his disastrous day past the board and they’d consider his circumstances against the fact he wasn’t married. He’d sort something out.

He frowned at the strange expression on Georgia’s face and he wondered what new complication had arisen.

For Georgia, after the first quick glance, she didn’t know where to look. Perhaps she’d caught her uncle’s affliction of avoiding eye contact, but this was a bit awkward after hearing Max needed a wife.

She flicked another peek at him and away again. ‘Harry just left.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Max frowned. ‘I saw him but he seemed in a bit of a hurry. I’m not sure he’s speaking to me after I failed so dismally as a sonin-law.’

Georgia winced and looked down as Elsa slept contentedly in her arms. That was definitely her fault. She wished her daughter would wake up and yell. At least she could avoid conversation then. Her brain was spinning from Harry’s bombshell. Max just didn’t seem the type to need a wife.

The guy had everything. Looks, money, fabulous career. A sliver of ice slid down her back. Maybe he wanted to own a trophy wife, like Sol had.

‘How is Tayla?’ It was all she could think of to say.

‘Unengaged. She doesn’t want to marry me any more.’ Max dropped the words into the room like an afterthought. ‘But she’ll be fine. I’ve sent her home with my brother. I think they will do very well together. We don’t normally get on but Paul’s been a godsend this week.’