Carrying The Single Dad's Baby

Then he realised what he’d said. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude about your name. We just have...simpler names in my family.’

‘Then you’d approve of Sandy’s choices—George and Henry.’

‘Sandy?’

‘Lysander.’ She smiled. ‘Mummy’s the only one who’s allowed to call him that. Anyone else gets his evil glare and never dares do it again.’

‘So Persephone is your oldest brother’s daughter, then?’

She nodded. ‘We call her Seffy, for short. And her older brother is Odysseus.’

‘Odysseus.’ Who wouldn’t have lasted three seconds in the playground at Daniel’s school. Why on earth would you call a child Odysseus?

As if the question was written all over his face, Beatrice explained, ‘Orlando studied classics. So did his wife. They wanted to use names from Greek mythology for their children—and their dogs.’ She grinned. ‘They have a black Lab called Cerberus—although he only has one head, he barks enough for three and it drives Mummy crackers.’

She called her mother ‘Mummy’? Posher still. Beatrice Lindford was way, way out of his league.

Not that he was thinking of asking her out.

The attraction he felt towards her needed to be stifled. The sooner, the better.

She looked at the drawing again. ‘Why am I wearing a crown?’

‘Iain says you talk like the Queen and you’ve got hair like a princess, so he’s decided you must be a princess and therefore you also know the Queen and Prince Harry.’

She laughed. ‘That’s cute.’

‘I tried to tell him you’re not a princess.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Are you sure? Because... Well...’

‘Because I have a posh accent and most of my family have unusual names? That’s a bit of a sweeping generalisation. It’d be like me saying you’re from Glasgow so everything you eat must be fried.’

‘True, and I didn’t mean to be rude.’

* * *

Beatrice definitely wasn’t going to tell Daniel that she had grown up in a castle. Or that actually her father was a viscount, making her family minor royalty. He didn’t need to know any of that. All he needed to know about her was that she was a doctor, and she was good at her job.

‘Apology accepted. And I love Iain’s drawing.’ She smiled at him. ‘He’s a nice boy.’

‘And he hasn’t stopped talking about you, or asking when you can come to tea. I’ve told him you’re busy and you’re probably married to a prince.’ Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what started all the Prince Harry stuff. His mum likes Prince Harry.’

So Daniel had clearly split up from his partner rather than being a widower. It was unusual for a dad to have custody of the child, but asking him about the situation felt like prying. ‘Prince Harry is gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Your wife has good—’ She stopped dead. Uh-oh. Good taste. That was tantamount to saying that she fancied Daniel.

Which she didn’t.

Well, a little bit.

Well, quite a lot.

But things were complicated. She had the job he claimed he hadn’t applied for but which everyone thought had had his name on it. He had a son who was clearly the focus of his life, and dating would be tricky for him. Plus she didn’t want to tell him about her past and see the pity in his face.

Better to keep this professional.

‘Good taste in princes,’ she finished.

‘I’ll tell her that. Because Iain’s going to tell her all about you when he sees her this weekend.’ He sighed. ‘You wouldn’t believe how much a four-year-old boy can talk.’

Or girl. She thought of Taylor and her heart squeezed. Would her little girl have been a chatterbox?

Not here. Not now.

‘Oh, I would. George could talk the hind leg off a donkey. He’s four,’ she said. A month younger than Taylor would’ve been. And how hard it had been to walk into her sister-in-law’s hospital room and hold that baby in her arms for the first time. She’d had to force herself to smile and hold back the tears. ‘George is the youngest of my nephews, and his big thing is dinosaurs. You wouldn’t believe how many complicated names he can pronounce. Give him a bucket of wooden bricks and he’ll build you a stegosaurus in two minutes flat.’

‘Iain loves dinosaurs, too. And rockets. My mum painted a mural in his bedroom of dinosaurs in a rocket heading for the moon, and he loves it.’

‘I bet.’ She glanced at her watch, knowing that she was being a coward and cutting this short. But she couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved with Daniel Capaldi and his son. ‘Better get back to the ward. Please thank Iain for his drawing. It’s lovely.’

‘I will.’ He looked relieved, as if she’d let him off the hook.

So did that mean he felt this ridiculous attraction, too?

Well, even if he did, they weren’t going to act on it. They were going to be professional. Keep things strictly business between them. And that was that.

CHAPTER THREE (#uf6fe56d3-ee73-5743-8a67-de2d8778a848)

OVER THE NEXT couple of days, Daniel’s determination to keep things strictly professional was sorely tested, particularly when he and Beatrice were rostered on together in Resus.

Their first patient of the day was Maureen Bishop, an elderly woman who’d slipped and fallen backwards off the patio, and was badly injured, enough for the air ambulance to bring her in.

‘Thankfully her neighbour had arranged to pop round for a cup of tea, couldn’t get an answer and went round the back of the house and found her,’ the paramedic from the air ambulance explained. ‘She was unconscious, so the neighbour called the ambulance—who called us to bring her in. She’s come round now, but she’s got a nasty gash in the back of her head from falling against a pot, plus fractured ribs, and we’re a bit worried she might have a crack in her skull or a bleed in her brain.’

‘Have you given her any pain relief?’ Beatrice asked.

The paramedic nodded and gave her full details. ‘We’ve put her on a spinal board with a neck brace.’

‘Great. Has anyone managed to get in touch with her family?’

‘Yes. Her daughter’s on the way in.’

‘That’s good.’ She went over to the trolley with Daniel. ‘Hello, Mrs Bishop, I’m Beatrice and this is Daniel,’ she said. ‘We’re looking after you today. May we call you Maureen?’

‘Yes, love,’ Maureen said.

‘Can you remember what happened?’