Six Sexy Doctors Part 2. Joanna NeilЧитать онлайн книгу.
be perfect together—at the very least you both seem to love nothing more than putting your lives at risk. But now he’s insisting on marrying Rachel again. She doesn’t even like getting wet. And why? Because he feels guilty about depriving his child of both parents.’
‘You have to give him credit for that at least.’ Meagan couldn’t help sticking up for Cameron. ‘I have known so many women whose husbands have just walked out on them and their children. After all, isn’t the child the most important person in the relationship?’
‘I agree, Meagan, to a point. But Ian has always managed fine with mainly his father around.’
‘But has he?’ Meagan persisted. ‘You heard him when he was ill. He desperately wanted his mother. At the end of the day isn’t that what all children want? To be with their mother?’
Jessie shook her head regretfully. ‘I suppose, thinking about it that way, you’re right.’ Her voice trembled slightly. ‘I only wish my child had the luxury of two parents. I’ve tried to do my best for her, but it would be so much easier if Hamish was still alive.’
‘Oh, Jessie.’ Meagan took her hand. ‘You couldn’t help what happened. I guess the difference is that Cameron can do something about it for his child.’
Jessie blew her nose loudly. ‘I still think it’s not right, though. Two parents are best, but surely only when they love each other. Children are very sensitive like that, you know.’
‘Do you ever think you’ll marry again?’
This time it was Jessie’s turn to blush. ‘Aye, well,’ she said. ‘You never know. But one thing’s for sure—I would never marry anyone who wasn’t prepared to accept Effie as his own. Not to replace Hamish, you understand—no one could ever do that.’ She looked wistful. ‘Anyway, so far there haven’t been any offers.’
‘Is there anyone you wish would offer?’ Meagan teased gently, knowing that Simon was back, happy to steer the conversation away from Cameron and herself.
‘Maybe. Neither of us have been particularly lucky in love so far, have we? Oh, Meagan, you have to stay. I’ll miss you terribly if you go.’
‘And I would miss you too.’ Impulsively Meagan stood and hugged Jessie. The two women broke apart and Meagan blinked away a tear.
What is wrong with me these days? she thought. I never used to be this emotional.
‘Anyway, I’d better go,’ Jessie said. ‘I’ve masses to do before tonight. To be fair, they insisted on getting caterers in so I could enjoy the ball, but I want to keep my eye on everything. Mrs McLeod’s going to take over from me. God help them if she finds anything that’s not quite perfect.’
‘How many guests do you have for the weekend?’ Meagan asked.
‘Around half a dozen. No doubt they’ll be wanting something when they come back from the fishing—Cameron has taken them out. And then, of course, it’s breakfast and lunch tomorrow before they finally leave.’
‘Hard work for you,’ Meagan said sympathetically.
‘Och, I don’t mind. It keeps me out of mischief. I’ll be down later to pick you up and I’ll introduce you to everyone. That is, if you don’t feel worse!’ And then, with a quick kiss on Meagan’s cheek, she was off.
Feeling restless and a little down, Meagan wondered what she should do with the rest of the day. The ball wasn’t due to start until 7:30 so she had oodles of time.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror in the sitting room. Jessie was right—she did look peaky. She was pale and there were dark rings under her eyes. Hardly surprising as she hadn’t been sleeping well. Another wave of nausea washed over her. Goodness, she thought, I haven’t felt like this since… And then her heart dropped to her shoes. No, it couldn’t be! It wasn’t possible, not with her medical history, she thought frantically. She was late now she took time to think about it. Only a few days, but late nevertheless. And she was as regular as clockwork. She sat down on the sofa. Was it possible? Could she be pregnant? She felt a flutter of excitement. No, don’t think like that, she told herself firmly. This isn’t a good thing. No matter how much you want a baby, you don’t want to be a single mother. But if—despite all the odds against it—she was pregnant, what would she do? She squeezed her eyes shut. Unbidden, an image of her holding a tiny baby with Cameron looking at them both fondly filled her mind. Cameron! What would he think? But should she even tell him? What would be the point of that when he was leaving? But she was getting way ahead of herself. First she would need to find out one way or another if she was pregnant. Her heart plummeted at the thought. Even if she was, it might be another ectopic.
She could hardly bear the contrasting emotions of hope and terror. At the very least she needed to know whether she had conceived. Making up her mind, she grabbed her car keys from the bowl beside the door and jumped into her car. Very soon, one way or another, she would know.
Cameron, dressed in his dinner jacket, wrestled with his bow-tie. Ian stood watching him, his eyes round with excitement. He was wearing full Highland dress, with the exception of the skean dubh. He’d been mutinous when Cameron had refused to let him borrow his traditional knife.
‘In a couple of years,’ Cameron had promised his sulking son. Thankfully within minutes Ian had forgotten his disappointment and was hopping from one foot to another.
‘Mummy wants you to help her fasten her necklace,’ he said. Cameron was still sleeping in his own room in the west wing. Rachel had her own suite of rooms when she came to stay in the east of the house. He knew Rachel wanted him to move back in with her—too antediluvian to wait until we are married, darling, she had drawled—but he had resisted. Although he had agreed they should marry again, he wasn’t ready yet for the kind of intimacy Rachel wanted. In fact, he wondered if he’d ever be ready. He closed his eyes against the image of Meagan in his arms. How could he take another woman to his bed when his mind was filled with the only woman who had ever really mattered to him?
‘It’s more appropriate, darling.’ Rachel had tried to persuade him. ‘After all, we’ll soon be married.’
He frowned at the thought. Rachel was talking about going through the whole church ceremony again. Cameron dreaded the thought. It had been bad enough the first time round. Why go to all the bother of doing it all over again? But would he mind if he was getting married for the right reasons? If he was marrying Meagan, he would want to shout it from the rooftops. Now, where had that come from? He had promised himself he wouldn’t even think of Meagan, let alone imagine getting married to her. Anyone would think he was in love with her. His hands stopped their restless and futile fiddling with his bow-tie. In love with Meagan? He shook his head, trying to clear it of the images of her—lying in his arms, eyes soft and wondering after their love-making, eyes sparkling as she splashed him with water, and the last, most painful image of them all, her eyes trying but failing to hide her hurt and bewilderment when he had told her he was going to remarry Rachel.
He cursed under his breath. Why couldn’t he have met Meagan just a few months before he had? He would never have married Rachel had she not been pregnant. But, then, and he glanced down at his son who was practising his dancing, there would have been no Ian. It wasn’t worth thinking about. None of it was worth thinking about. He was doing what he thought was right, and he needed to accept the hand life had dealt him, as he always had, and move on.
‘I got tired waiting for you,’ Rachel said, coming into the room. She looked breathtaking in a long silk sheath of deep blue that set off her eyes. She had twisted her hair into a sophisticated arrangement at the top of her head and finished her ensemble off with the pair of diamond earrings he had bought her on their wedding day. In her hand she held the matching necklace he had given her for their first wedding anniversary. ‘Could you help me clasp this?’
She turned her back to him, offering him her long neck, and he quickly fastened the necklace.
‘Ian,’ she said to her son, ‘do you want to check how your Uncle Simon