Though maybe he’d already done it. Stepped back. Taken the opportunity she’d given him to escape from the crazy marriage they’d been contemplating. And the more he kept his distance, the more she ached for him.
But he was here now. Observing her thoughtfully with the eyes that seemed to know what was in her mind before she even knew herself.
‘All right,’ he said levelly. ‘There’s no need to start flaunting your independence at those who are concerned for you. Your father cares for you in his own crusty way and I…’
He paused and she interrupted frostily, ‘You were saying? I can’t stand it when people stop in the middle of a sentence.’
‘All right! All right! I also feel a certain amount of responsibility for you.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘Because you are part of the practice for one thing and I owe it to the rest of those working there that you should be happy and healthy for their sakes…your sake…and for your child’s sake.’
‘Is that it?’ she asked dolefully.
Blair took a step towards her and her heartbeat quickened.
‘You know it isn’t. You are the most enchanting woman I’ve ever met.’
They were only inches apart. Imogen could see an unmistakable purpose in the dark eyes beneath his short golden crop and she caught her breath. She needed his arms around her like she needed to breathe.
Yet now it seemed as if he was rooted to the spot as he went on to say flatly, ‘But the pattern of your life was mapped out before we met. Surely you realise that. I mistakenly tried to step in and offer some support, but you wisely saw further ahead than I and called the wedding off. So what do you want me to say, Imogen?’
‘Nothing,’ she said with a careless shrug. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘Right. So if you’re ready I’ll take you home…and on the way I have to call and turn Emily Bradshaw’s oven off, feed her cat, deal with the milkman if he’s around and bring in the mail.’
‘So every cloud has a silver lining for some,’ she said, laughter wiping away the doldrums. ‘With old Mrs Bradshaw being at the top of the list. How did you get involved in her affairs to such an extent?’
He smiled back at her as if their frustrating discussion had never taken place.
‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time, but now we must get going or Emily will never forgive me if her casserole is spoiled.’
When they arrived at Imogen’s apartment Blair watched her expression. He’d decided that if she showed any fear at returning to the scene of the previous night’s attack he was going to take her back to his place until she found somewhere else to live.
He needn’t have worried. She looked sombre but not afraid as she looked around her. Everywhere was much as they’d left it. A broken ornament on the floor and a lamp overturned were soon dealt with, and as the intruder had got no further than the hall the rest of the place was how it had been before he’d burst in.
Imogen knew Blair was watching her and she told him, ‘I’ll be fine, Blair. After all, the fellow is locked up and he won’t be getting bail after what he’s done. It was lucky for me that he didn’t know who my father is or he really would have been out to get me. As it was, he came after me because he said I was a “pretty, pretty” working for the police, which I suppose means that he thought I was looking down at him.
‘The girl in the park had already made him feel inadequate once and then I turned up, seven months pregnant and helping to run the show for the police.’
‘If that’s the case, why didn’t he go after me?’ Blair questioned. ‘I was in charge.’
‘Because you’re not pregnant and “pretty, pretty” like me.’
‘You’re certainly that,’ he said quietly.
‘Pregnant? Yes. There’s no getting away from that.’
‘I meant pretty.’
‘What, even with the bump?’ she questioned laughingly.
‘Yes, even with the bump. Until last night’s affair you were positively glowing.’
‘I was?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Imogen. Don’t you ever look in the mirror?’
‘Yes, I do!’ she cried. ‘And what do you think I see?’
‘I don’t know, but I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me.’
‘I see a full-breasted vision with extended waistline and swollen feet.’
‘Oh, dear! You do want this baby, don’t you?’
She smiled.
‘Yes, of course I do. I can’t wait to hold it in my arms. It’s just that I do so wish…’
‘What? What do you wish?’ he asked softly.
Imogen turned away. She wished that the child inside her was his. That was what she wished. But a rebuff would put out her light for evermore.
Blair took her arm and swivelled her round to face him again, and this time he wasn’t reading her mind.
‘You’re wishing that the waiting was over, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. That’s it,’ she fibbed, hoping that she sounded convincing.
He reached out and touched her cheek with gentle fingers. ‘I know it’s hard for you, having to face this alone with the baby’s father gone, but at least you’ve got your father, who seems to be mellowing to some degree, and that nice wife of his. And I’m here on the sidelines ready to help in any way that I can.’
That’s just it, she wanted to tell him. I don’t want you on the sidelines. I want you in the centre of my life.
But it was there again. The feeling that the scales weren’t evenly balanced. When the baby came it would be two to one and Blair had never mentioned marriage since the day she’d told him she’d changed her mind.
Better get back to more positive thinking, she told herself, and dredged up a smile. ‘Yes, I know that Dad and Celia will stand by me. She’s offered to have the baby in the mornings for me so that I won’t have to bring it to the practice or take it to a childminder, and I’ll sort something out for the afternoons. You didn’t know what you were letting yourself in for when you met me, did you?’
‘I think I might have done, but I never could resist a challenge,’ he told her drily.
It would be so easy to tell Imogen that from the moment of their meeting he’d wanted her in his life, and when he’d discovered that he couldn’t have her in the way that he’d wanted her he’d been willing to accept what had been on offer so entranced had he been with her. And even now, with no binding ties of any kind between them, he still longed to feel the vibrant warmth of her in his arms.
But, he told himself, at least he was still around her. He’d been there for her last night, thank God, and with the memory of that came the reminder of what her father had said.
‘The police will want to question you about last night,’ he said, causing her to blink at the sudden return to normality. ‘But your father said they’d been told to wait until he gave permission.’
‘Yes, he told me and I’ve assured him that any time they want to come I’m up to it. Have we heard anything else about the murders?’
‘Not as yet. With taking morning surgery I haven’t had much time to enquire and your father didn’t come up with any details. But, no doubt, sooner or later all will be revealed.’
‘That maniac told me that he’d tried to chat the girl up while she was waiting for her boyfriend and when she told him to go away and have a bath, he killed her and then lay in wait for the boyfriend. From the sound of it he attacked him from behind—in his own words, the poor kid didn’t know what hit him.
‘Sick object that he is, he stayed around after the bodies were found. I suppose it must have given him a buzz to see all the excitement that he had created and to watch the park attendant being interrogated. Then for some reason he zoomed in on me.’
‘All of this must have happened in the late afternoon or early evening,’ Blair said in incredulous anger. ‘How could he have killed two people without being seen?’
‘The devil was obviously look
ing after his own,’ she said sombrely. ‘That part of the park is more secluded than the rest. There are lots of mature trees and bushes and narrow paths that lead to seats that are out of sight. His kind snoop on courting couples and it would seem that it went a lot further than that with this fellow.’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed heavily. ‘So keep the door locked when I’ve gone and promise me that you won’t ever open it again without checking first.’
‘Yes, of course. I was so sure that it was you there that for the first time ever I didn’t look through the peep-hole.’
Because of wishful thinking, she could have told him, but didn’t. Talking about those fraught moments reminded her that he’d arranged to meet someone and had never got there.
‘What about the person you were intending dining with last night?’ she asked.
‘That was Briony Matthews. I’ve told you about her before. I rang later in the evening to tell her what had happened. I take her out occasionally. She needed a lot of support when her husband died and I felt that I ought to be there for her.’
‘And how long ago was that?’ she asked with a feeling that depression was looming.
‘Nine months.’
‘I recall Simon mentioning her. He seemed to think that she had you in line for husband number two.’
Blair shrugged.
‘That brother of mine needs to sort out his own affairs before he starts interfering in mine. He’s started dating Lauren at the practice and I’m sure he wouldn’t like me to start passing comments about that.’
‘So is this Briony person in love with you?’
She watched his mouth tighten.
‘Does it matter?’
Yes, it does, Imogen wanted to shriek at him, but I can’t admit it because I have no claim on you.
So instead she made do with, ‘No, I suppose not. I was just curious.’
‘I don’t remember asking you about your private life,’ he said unsmilingly. ‘Such as how long had you been sleeping with your child’s father? How serious was it? Would you have married him if he hadn’t been killed?’
‘No. You haven’t asked me,’ she agreed. ‘Which made me think that you weren’t interested. But if you want some answers, you can have them. I slept with Sean just the once. It wasn’t a serious relationship and, no, I wouldn’t have married him just for the child’s sake.’
He was eyeing her incredulously. ‘Yet you would have married me. Someone that you barely knew!’
‘Yes,’ she told him defiantly. ‘What do you make of that?’
‘I’m damned if I know. But in any case that’s something else that doesn’t matter. It’s water under the bridge.’
‘Yes, it is,’ she agreed tonelessly.
‘I’m going,’ he said suddenly. ‘You’re still pale and shaken up from yesterday without all the soul-searching that we seem to be determined to inflict upon ourselves. Why not go to bed for a few hours, Imogen? I’ll make you a snack first if you like and then tuck you up for the afternoon.’
‘I’m not hungry, but I will go to bed. And, Blair, I know I’m beginning to sound like a gramophone record, but thanks again for always being around when I need you.’ Reaching up, she pressed her lips to his cheek.
He became still and then in a voice that was suddenly hoarse said, ‘So can I break all my firm resolutions and claim a reward for my good deeds?’
She nodded, eyes wide and waiting.
‘Here goes, then,’ he breathed. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her long and lingeringly. But even as she began to melt at his touch he was putting her away from him and telling her quickly, ‘Don’t tempt me any further. By the time I get home I will be regretting what I’ve just done.’
Imogen glowered at him. ‘Thanks a bunch. In other words, you just felt like a bit of dilly-dallying and the local easy lay was available.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Imogen,’ he told her, ‘and will you now, please, go and have that rest?’
‘When will I see you again?’ she asked pensively.
He was turning to go.
‘I’ll ring tomorrow.’ And off he went, making sure that the door was securely shut behind him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE antenatal clinic these days was a more relaxed affair than normally because the doctor in charge was an expectant mother herself, which made it easier for those attending to talk about their health problems and domestic worries.
It was generally accepted by staff and patients alike that the baby Imogen was carrying was Blair Nesbitt’s in view of the marriage plans that had been put on hold until after the birth.
The only one who had questioned the baby’s parentage at that time had been Simon and, as he had immediately lost interest once the wedding had been called off, Imogen had seen no need to enlighten anyone regarding the circumstances of her pregnancy.
It was mainly for Blair’s sake, to save him embarrassment. And for her own part she saw no necessity to make public her past indiscretions, deciding that if no wedding materialised after the birth, interest in her affairs would have died down by then.
But, having been almost three months pregnant when she joined the practice, she and Blair were aware that they needed to give the impression that they’d been sleeping together before she’d started at the Sycamores, otherwise there would be a time discrepancy when the child was born.
‘Do you know what sex your baby is?’ one of the women attending the clinic asked the week after the murders in the park.
Imogen shook her head.
‘No. I’d rather wait and see.’
‘Mine’s a girl,’ she said despondently. ‘I’ve already got four daughters and we desperately wanted a boy, so we decided we’d have one more try, but it hasn’t worked.’
Imogen flashed the patient a sympathetic smile.
‘I’m sure you’ll love her just the same.’
The woman sighed. ‘Yes, we will, but…’
‘I know. It would have been nice to have a son.’
It was a day when everyone at the clinic seemed to have a problem and by the time it was over she was thinking that she was the fortunate one.
A twenty-five-year-old, a third of the way into her pregnancy, had turned up with blisters on her legs and stomach, similar to those of the cold sore virus, and Imogen had eyed them in puzzlement.
‘What do you think it is, Doctor?’ the patient had asked anxiously.
‘I’m not sure,’ she’d told her. ‘I’m going to ask Dr Nesbitt to have a look at you.’
‘I’ve got a pregnant woman with legs and stomach covered in what looks like the herpes virus,’ she’d told him. ‘Will you come and have a look?’
He’d just seen a patient and was writing up their notes before calling in the next one. But when he heard what Imogen had to say he put them to one side.
‘Of course,’ he said with his usual calm confidence, and as she led the way to the nurse’s room where the clinic was held asked, ‘How’s it going?’
Imogen pulled a face. ‘We’ve got it all today. Two with blood pressure that is higher than it should be. A first-timer who’s having a bleed at seven months and has been despatched to hospital forthwith. A teenager who can’t stop vomiting and now this patient with the strange blisters.’
‘It’s herpes gestationis,’ Blair said when he’d examined her.
‘What?’ the woman cried hysterically. ‘That’s a sexually transmitted disease, isn’t it? I’ve never slept with anyone but my husband. If he’s been…’
Her voice trailed off and Blair shook his head.
‘No. This is nothing like that,’ he assured her. ‘It might sound similar, but it isn’t one of the herpes simplex viruses. It’s a rare condition of pregnancy and will disappear once you’ve had the baby.’
‘In the meantime, Dr Rossiter will prescribe a corticosteroid-type drug that should keep it under control as, if left untreated, it can bring on a miscarriage.’
The relief at being to
ld she hadn’t picked up something unpleasant was now being wiped out by the mention of the word miscarriage, but again he was there to reassure her.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll monitor the condition carefully and if we think there is the least risk to you or your baby will have you admitted to hospital.’
When she’d left in a chastened state, Imogen said, ‘I’d heard of herpes gestationis, but had never come across it until today.’
Blair nodded. ‘I’ve only seen it a few times myself.’ He sent a searching glance in her direction. ‘Is all this making you nervous about your own pregnancy?’
‘No, not at all,’ she told him serenely. ‘I’m just grateful to be in such good health. And regarding my involvement with the expectant mums, it’s better to have one’s finger on the pulse than be wandering around in the dark. I’m lucky to be on the inside of things.’
‘It’s quite clear that you’re thinking positively,’ he said drily, vaguely irritated that she was coping so well.
She pushed back a lock of dark hair from her brow and observed him with the clear candid gaze that was so much a part of her. He knew why he was feeling rattled. He wanted her to need him. To want him with her, not just now and then but all the time.
That man who’d made her pregnant had no right to have gone off on some fool’s errand in the Himalayas, leaving her to face the future alone, he thought morosely, even though he hadn’t known about the baby.
If Imogen belonged to him, he would want to be with her all the time. But she didn’t belong to him, did she? Didn’t want to, or she wouldn’t have changed her mind about marrying him.
Maybe if he’d been a bit more passionate about it she would have found the idea more appealing, but it had all happened in a flash. One moment he’d been with her at her father’s place merely to give moral support and the next he’d said he was the child’s father and had assured Brian Rossiter that there would be a wedding. So who could blame her if he came over as something of a cold customer?
As he brought his mind back to the present she said in a more subdued tone, ‘But it doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes feel low. Such as when I’m alone in the evenings and I start thinking about what might have been.’
The Pregnant Police Surgeon Page 10
