by Sarah Morgan
‘Losing me?’
‘You’re moving out and you’re taking the baby with you. And I don’t know how to stop you. I don’t know how to prove to you that I love you and I don’t know how to prove to you that I love your daughter.’
‘I thought it was too late. I thought you’d changed your mind.’ Miranda closed her eyes and allowed the happiness to flood through her. ‘All night I lay awake, fantasising about you saying those words.’
He frowned. ‘Why would you have to fantasise when you knew how I felt?’
‘Because I thought you’d changed your mind. You were so cool and detached when you delivered her, I thought that reality had finally hit home. It seemed as though you couldn’t wait to get the pair of us out of your house and into hospital.’
‘In a way I couldn’t,’ he confessed. ‘I didn’t want to put more pressure on you at that particular moment when all your attention should have been on your new baby. And you’d already made it clear how you felt.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘That isn’t true. I told you about my fears. I told myself that I had to protect the baby at all costs. What I didn’t tell you was that I love you, too. I knew it weeks ago, but I knew if I admitted it you’d never take no for an answer.’
He stilled. ‘But if you loved me, why would you want me to take no for an answer?’
‘Because I have a responsibility towards my daughter. I’m responsible for her happiness. I thought that promise meant never marrying anyone.’ She put the flowers down carefully. ‘But then I realised that my daughter’s happiness might involve giving her an amazing father. You. I was ready to tell you last night but then I went into labour.’
For a moment he just stood there, staring at her, and then he muttered something under his breath, crossed the room and hauled her into his arms.
‘I can’t believe you’re saying those words,’ he groaned against her neck. ‘I’ve been planning my next move with the precision of a military campaign. I’ve been planning ways to persuade you to trust me enough to marry me.’
‘You don’t need a military campaign. I trust you, Jake.’ She slid her arms round his neck. ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you.’ He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her long and hard. Then he lifted his head and stroked her hair away from her face. ‘How could you possibly think my feelings had changed?’
‘I pushed you away—I assumed you’d given up.’
He gave a slow smile. ‘I don’t give up easily, sweetheart. You should know that about me by now.’ He studied her face for a long moment and his smile faded. ‘It’s important that you understand that. No matter what happens, nothing is going to stop me loving you and the baby. Nothing.’
‘You’ve no idea how it feels to hear you say that.’
‘Well, you’d better get used to it because I’m going to be saying it all the time. And what about you?’ He hugged her closer. ‘As a matter of interest, what changed your mind?’
‘I didn’t exactly change my mind. I knew I loved you. The only thing that changed was that I decided to tell you. Last night Christy came to see me and after she left I sat in the dark and did a lot of thinking.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘That explains the mess in my kitchen. I wondered where the scones came from.’
‘She told me a few things. Things that I already knew. Things I was allowing myself to ignore because of Keith.’
‘What things?’
‘That you’re a good man. That you were fully aware of the responsibility you’d be taking on, that if you said you wanted the baby, too, you meant it…’
He frowned and his gaze turned to the cot where the baby lay sleeping. ‘It doesn’t feel like a responsibility, Miranda. It feels like a gift.’
At that moment the baby woke up and started to whimper. Miranda smiled at Jake. ‘Go on, then—if you’re going to be her father, you’d better start getting to know her.’
‘Have you thought of a name? I can’t keep calling her “the baby”.’
Miranda brushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Can we call her Hope?’
‘Hope Blackwell.’ Jake said it slowly and then nodded. ‘Hope. Sounds good. What made you think of it?’
She hesitated. ‘It’s what you’ve given me. When we met on Christmas Day I was in the depths of despair. I was cold, lost and completely alone,’ she said softly, ‘and then you appeared out of the mist. And from then on, no matter how many times I tried to push you away, you were always by my side. And that made everything better. I’d grown up believing that happy families were an illusion, but you’ve convinced me that I’m wrong.’
He smiled and lifted the baby out of the cot. ‘So are you giving me Hope or am I giving you Hope?’
‘Both.’ She watched him. Watched the tender way he held the baby. How could she have doubted him? Feeling ridiculously happy, she sat down in the chair and prepared to feed the baby. ‘I’d better ring that man and tell him I no longer want the flat.’
‘No need.’ Jake placed the baby carefully in her arms. ‘I’ve already done it.’
‘You have?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Why?’
‘Because there was no way I was letting you move out! I was buying myself more time.’
She shook her head in amazement. ‘You’re manipulative, do you know that? Some might even call you arrogant.’
‘The word is constant.’ He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘I’m in love, Miranda. And seeing the baby just doubled my determination to marry you. Two for the price of one. My girls. I love you.’
‘And I love you, too.’
Read on for a sneak preview of Sarah’s next book
Summer Kisses
coming summer 2012
THEY were all staring.
He could feel them staring even though he stood with his back to them, his legs braced against the slight roll of the ferry, his eyes fixed firmly on the ragged coastline of the approaching island.
The whispers and speculation had started from the moment he’d ridden his motorbike onto the ferry. From the moment he’d removed his helmet and allowed them to see his face.
Some of the passengers were tourists, using the ferry as a means to spend a few days or weeks on the wild Scottish island of Glenmore, but many were locals, taking advantage of their only transport link with the mainland.
And the locals knew him. Even after an absence of twelve years, they recognised him.
They remembered him for all the same reasons that he remembered them.
Their faces were filed away in his subconscious; deep scars on his soul.
He probably should have greeted them; islanders were sociable people and a smile and a ‘hello’ might have begun to bridge the gulf that stretched between them. But his firm mouth didn’t shift and the chill in his ice blue eyes didn’t thaw.
And that was the root of the problem, he brooded silently as he studied the deadly rocks that had protected this part of the coastline for centuries. He wasn’t sociable. He didn’t care what they thought of him. He’d never been interested in courting the good opinion of others and he’d never considered himself an islander, even though he’d been born on Glenmore and had spent the first eighteen years of his life trapped within the confines of its rocky shores.
He had no wish to exchange small talk or make friends. Neither did he intend to explain his presence. They’d find out what he was doing here soon enough. It was inevitable. But, for now, he dismissed their shocked glances as inconsequential and enjoyed his last moments of self-imposed isolation.
The first drops of rain sent the other passengers scuttling inside for protection but he didn’t move. Instead he stood still, staring bleakly at the ragged shores of the island, just visible through the rain-lashed mist. The land was steeped in lore and legend, with a long, bloody history of Viking invasion.
Locals believed that the island had a soul and a personality. They believed that the unpredictable weather was Glenmore expressing her many moods.
He glanced up at the angry sky with a cynical smile. If that was the case then today she was definitely menopausal.
Or maybe, like the islanders, she’d seen his return and was crying.
The island loomed out of the mist and he stared ahead, seeing dark memories waiting on the shore. Memories of wild teenage years; of anger and defiance. His past was a stormy canvas of rules broken, boundaries exploded, vices explored, girls seduced—far too many girls seduced—and all against an atmosphere of intense disapproval from the locals who’d thought his parents should have had more control.
Remembering the vicious, violent atmosphere of his home, he gave a humourless laugh. His father hadn’t been capable of controlling himself, let alone him. After his mother had left, he’d spent as little time in the house as possible.
The rain was falling heavily as the ferry docked and he turned up the collar of his leather jacket and moved purposefully towards his motorbike.
He could have replaced his helmet and assured himself a degree of privacy from the hostile stares, but instead he paused for a moment, the wicked streak inside him making sure that they had more than enough time to take one more good look at his face. He didn’t want there to be any doubt in their minds. He wanted them to know that he was back.
Let them stare and speculate. It would save him the bother of announcing his return.
With a smooth, athletic movement, he settled his powerful body onto the motorbike and caught the eye of the ferryman, acknowledging his disbelieving stare with a slight inclination of his head. He knew exactly what old Jim was thinking—that the morning ferry had brought trouble to Glenmore. And news of trouble spread fast on this island. As if to confirm his instincts, he caught a few words from the crush of people preparing to leave the ferry. Arrogant, wild, unstable, volatile, handsome as the devil…
He pushed the helmet down onto his head with his gloved hands. Luckily for him, plenty of women were attracted to arrogant, wild, unstable, volatile men, or his life would have been considerably more boring than it had been.
From behind the privacy of his helmet, he smiled, knowing exactly what would happen next. The rumours would spread like ripples in a pond. Within minutes, news of his arrival would have spread across the island. Ferryman to fisherman, fisherman to shopkeeper, shopkeeper to customer—it would take no time at all for the entire population of the island to be informed of the latest news—that Conner MacNeil had come in on the morning ferry.
The Bad Boy was back on the Island.
© Sarah Morgan 2008
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
Wish Upon a Star © Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. 2011
Originally published as The Christmas Marriage Rescue © Sarah Morgan 2006 and The Midwife’s Christmas Miracle © Sarah Morgan 2006
ISBN: 978-1-408-95200-9
Table of Contents
About the Author
Wish Upon a Star
Dedication
Christy
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Miranda
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Preview
Copyright
Table of Contents
About the Author
Wish Upon a Star
Dedication
Christy
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Miranda
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Preview
Copyright
