A Baby for the Flying Doctor

  Phemie needed normality, not ideas put in her head with regards to Gil Fitzwilliam. The man might indeed be sex on legs, but that was beside the point.

  No matter how sexy any man was, no matter how he might make her feel, no matter how her thoughts and body went haywire when he was around, it would all be meaningless in the end. Long-term relationships weren’t for her. Marriage wasn’t for her. Having her own children was something she could never do.

  Whilst she loved and adored her brother completely, she couldn’t risk becoming pregnant and giving birth to a child with Down’s Syndrome.

  She’d lived that life. She’d watched her parents for years, seen their long-suffering patience almost running out on several occasions. The way they hadn’t been able to pay the proper attention to her because of Anthony, the way they’d had to rely on her to take up the slack. There had been no time for parties, no time for experimenting, no time for boyfriends. She’d been a surrogate mother to her sibling.

  She loved her family, more than anything, and if she had to do it all over again, she would. But she’d vowed never to put a child of her own through what she’d been through—and, as such, the only way to completely ensure that never happened was never to have children.

  Caring for others was what she was good at, and that was what she was busy doing. Working in the Outback, caring for the community, helping others in any way she could. Those were the choices she’d made and she was determined to stick to them. The emotions Gil Fitzwilliam evoked deep within could mean nothing to her…

  Lucy Clark is a husband-and-wife writing team. They enjoy taking holidays with their two children, during which they discuss and develop new ideas for their books using the fantastic Australian scenery. They use their daily walks to talk over characterisation and fine details of the wonderful stories they produce, and are avid movie buffs. They live on the edge of a popular wine district in South Australia, and enjoy spending family time together at weekends.

  Recent titles by the same author:

  A BABY TO CARE FOR

  NEW BOSS, NEW-YEAR BRIDE

  BRIDE ON THE CHILDREN’S WARD

  SURGEON BOSS, BACHELOR DAD

  A Baby for the Flying Doctor

  By

  Lucy Clark

  MILLS & BOON®

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  To Vikki—thanks for your generosity in sharing your experience and knowledge about Downs. It was greatly appreciated.

  Eph 2:10

  CHAPTER ONE

  EUPHEMIA GRAINGER made her way along the corridor of the old refurbished train, measuring her steps in time with the sway of the carriage. It was quite exciting. She’d never been on a train before, well, not this sort. This was a long-distance train that cut its way from west to east across the wide brown land of Australia. She’d boarded the train at the Didja station, but there were still another two full days of train travel before she arrived in Sydney.

  Phemie smiled, pleased she’d finally decided to do something for herself…well, sort of for herself. Anthony had been a big part of her decision to travel by train and she was definitely the sort of person who put others first.

  Being raised with a disabled brother—a brother she loved dearly—had taught her that her needs generally came second. Sometimes, when she’d been growing up, she’d been jealous of the attention Anthony received but had known it was necessary. After she’d experienced those moments of envy, she would be swamped immediately by guilt. It was hardly Anthony’s fault he’d been born with Down’s syndrome.

  She was excited to see him on Friday morning when he and his friends would join the train journey for the last day of adventure. Her smile widened as she thought about Anthony. It had been three weeks since she’d last seen her brother and the excitement started to bubble because she knew just how much he’d enjoy train trav—

  ‘Excuse me,’ a deep, rich English voice said from behind her, and Phemie immediately turned, looking up at whoever had spoken.

  ‘Sorry.’ She moved to the side of the small train aisle so he could pass and glanced up, craning her neck because of his height. ‘I didn’t realise I was blocking the corridor—Professor Fitzwilliam!’

  The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  Gilbert Fitzwilliam was startled as he looked down at the petite blonde woman before him, her large blue eyes looking up into his own brown ones. How could she possibly know who he was…unless she was connected with the medical community in some way? It was the only answer and even though she looked about twenty years old, she could still be a conscientious medical student, nurse, dietician or perhaps an intern.

  She put out her hand and he automatically took it. He’d been shaking hand after hand for the past eleven months. Soon, though, it would all be over. One more conference in Sydney and his travelling fellowship would technically be over. Once he returned to the UK and completed the paperwork, he’d be officially unemployed. What he would do next, he had no idea. At the moment, though, he needed to keep busy.

  ‘I’ve read your papers.’ The pretty blonde nodded enthusiastically. ‘Amazing stuff.’

  Stuff? She was still shaking his hand, her slim fingers warm and inviting. When she’d initially looked at him, she’d had the most engaging smile on her lips and he’d been instantly captivated by her, by this…stranger. This stranger who knew who he was and had found his scientific papers to be amazing ‘stuff’. ‘Uh…well…’ He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow before looking pointedly at their hands.

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’ She immediately let go. ‘I guess I hadn’t expected to find you here. On the train, I mean. Last place in the world. Going to Sydney on a train, across Australia. Who would have thought?’ Good heavens. She was babbling. She never babbled. Well, not unless she was nervous. Was she nervous? If so, why was she nervous? What on earth did she have to be nervous about? The fact that the man before her was one of the world’s leading experts on emergency medicine—her particular forte—couldn’t possibly have anything to do with it!

  ‘I’m pleased you found them so informative.’ Gil looked into her upturned face, once again struck by her beauty. The afternoon light coming through the window beside them gave her an ethereal glow that made her blonde locks radiant, her blue eyes sparkling with a pleasure he’d never thought his medical writing could promote.

  They stood staring at each other, captured in a strange bubble in the middle of an aisle in a train carriage. Phemie couldn’t believe how distinguished and handsome Professor Fitzwilliam was in real life. She’d seen several stock photographs of him as she’d waded her way through medical journals and articles he’d written and even though she’d known she would be seeing him at the conference in Sydney, given he was the guest of honour, she hadn’t expected to come this close to him. Not like this. Not in a personal rather than a professional capacity.

  His brown hair was cut short even though she was certain that if he were to let it grow a little longer, it would have a definite curl to the ends. Flecks of grey peppered the sides but instead of making him look old, they gave him a distinguished air of authority.

  It was his eyes, however, that had her staring, forgetting all her manners. The rich deep brown irises were flecked with golden swirls, making her feel both wild and yet safe at the same time. It was an interesting sensation and one she’d never experienced before, but it wasn’t every day she stood gazing at a man she classified as medical royalty.

  The train lurched, breaking the moment, bringing them both back to reality with a jolt. Phemie lost her balance, putting a hand to the wall to stop herself from falling but instead of finding hard wood panelling, she found hard muscular arms coming around her as Profes
sor Fitzwilliam steadied her.

  ‘Easy there.’ He stood firm as the train continued to bounce around. The first thing that assailed his senses was her sweet yet subtle scent. He’d never known someone could smell like sunshine before but this young woman did. The second thing he noticed was the way his arm seemed to mould naturally to her shape. Her hand was resting on his shoulder, his hand at her waist.

  As they wobbled back and forth, Phemie somehow managed to steady her feet, bending her knees slightly so she swayed better with the rhythm of the train. Now that she had herself back on track, she should really let go of him, although it appeared she was having trouble sending the signals from her brain to her limbs.

  All she’d been able to concentrate on was the feel of his warm skin beneath his thin cotton shirt and how, due to her lack of height, her eyes rested at his chest level. Where his tie would ordinarily reside, there was now an open shirt, revealing a smattering of dark brown hair. She breathed in and tried not to crumple further into his arms as her senses were assailed with a light spicy cologne that she’d always loved.

  He looked at her, momentarily surprised to find just how close they’d become. The train jolted again and he increased his grip. His gaze flicked from her lips to her eyes and back again and the urge to actually kiss this woman, this complete stranger, was utterly overwhelming.

  How ridiculous. He didn’t do instant attractions. He didn’t do romance. He didn’t do relationships. He’d been there, done that and his world had ended in despair. Work was the only thing that interested him. He could lose himself in work. He could write articles, develop new techniques. He could lecture and pass on information because work never let him down. It occupied his every waking moment and kept his mind busy. At least, that’s the way things had been until a few minutes ago…before he’d had his arms around the beautiful blonde.

  The train levelled out but it took Phemie a moment or two to process this fact. Her mind was too busy trying to decipher whether Professor Fitzwilliam had actually just looked as though he intended to kiss her! Or had that been her own imagination? She was already half in love with the man’s mind. He was so brilliant, so insightful and now that she’d come face to face with him, so…incredibly gorgeous. She did her best not to sigh out loud.

  ‘Uh…’ Phemie licked her lips and edged backwards, almost flattening herself against the wall. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘For what?’ He’d let her go. He was no longer touching her and yet his body still tingled and buzzed from the powerful electric jolt he’d received when holding this delightful young woman in his arms. The fact that she was the first woman to have elicited such a response since his wife was something he didn’t really want to think about.

  ‘For…uh…’ Oh, come on, Euphemia. Get that intelligent brain of yours working, she silently scolded herself. ‘Stopping me from falling.’

  He nodded once. ‘Yes. Right. Good. Well you’re…uh, welcome, Miss…’ He fished for her name because deep down inside he simply had to know who she was.

  ‘Grainger. Dr Euphemia Grainger.’ She was about to shake his hand again but caught the impulse in time. No. No more touching of the muscular and well-toned English professor.

  His eyebrow went up again in surprise at her name. Doctor, eh? So she was obviously older than he’d initially thought. It certainly helped explain how she’d known his identity.

  ‘As I’ve already mentioned, I’ve read all of your papers.’ Her smooth tones washed over him and he found her Australian twang rather delightful.

  ‘I remember.’ His lips twitched into a smile. ‘Apparently they were amazing…stuff.’

  She wrinkled her nose at the way he said the word, then a bright smile spread across her face, lighting her eyes. The overall effect made Gil suck in a breath. ‘Sorry. That’s my younger brother’s influence rubbing off on me. He uses the word like water.’

  Older sibling. Doctor. Stunning. Good taste in reading material. Gil filed away these points. ‘So…Euphemia.’ He rolled her name around on his tongue. ‘That’s a rather different name.’

  ‘Family one, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  She shrugged. ‘I guess you could say I’m used to it. I also like the aunt I was named after so I guess that helps.’ Phemie glanced behind him and saw someone else was heading in their direction in the already overcrowded narrow, swaying corridor. She gestured to the person coming through and both she and Professor Fitzwilliam flattened themselves against the walls. She was highly conscious of where he was standing, trying to avoid being pushed into him, but the train lurched once more, causing her to press right up against the one man she was trying to avoid.

  The heat was instant. The pressure, the awareness she had of him. It was starting to become too much for her. The person passing them stumbled as the train wobbled and Phemie held firmly onto the professor. She couldn’t move until the other man had passed them by.

  ‘Very squashy,’ she whispered as her body pressed up against his. She didn’t want to breathe in his scent. She didn’t want to be aware of how incredible his body felt beneath her hands.

  Gil worked hard at keeping his hands by his side, determined not to hold her again. Her chest was pressed against his body and the effort to ignore all sensations called on all his inner strength. Humour. Humour would be the only way to diffuse this situation. He grinned down at her. ‘I don’t know about squashy. I find this sort of situation helps you get to know complete strangers rather quickly.’

  Euphemia was amazed at how a simple thing like a smile could transform someone’s face. Small laughter lines appeared around his eyes and those rich brown irises made her think of melting chocolate. His mouth was curved, showing a tiny glimpse of white teeth, and she realised the whole awareness thing she was feeling with him was ridiculous and extremely temporary. Making light of the situation did seem the best option. She would follow his lead.

  Returning his smile, the warmth of his body was still flowing against hers, all the way to her toes, but she did her best to ignore it. ‘It most certainly does.’ She looked down the aisle and was astonished and embarrassed to find the elderly man had passed them and was almost through the door at the other end of the carriage, leaving them both room to move.

  Phemie shifted back immediately and straightened her light cotton jacket. Twice she’d been up against him, meaning she had twice the amount of wild awareness coursing through her body, yet somehow she had to ignore it. He was Professor Fitzwilliam, for goodness’ sake. Her superior not only in qualifications but in experience. She looked at him, desperate to think of something to say that would make her sound intelligent and yet get her away from him as soon as possible.

  ‘I’d best get back to my cabin.’ She even pointed to where it was. Way to go, Phemie, she silently congratulated herself. No doubt the next Nobel Peace Prize candidate.

  He nodded but when she didn’t immediately move, he cleared his throat and put a bit of distance between them. It was strange. They were no longer near each other, she was about to leave, and Gil was struck with a burning desire to prolong their contact. He was intrigued by this young woman and he quickly decided that as long as he kept things businesslike, there was no reason why he couldn’t chat with her. Perhaps he could assist her in a medical capacity? Help her to choose the area she might want to specialise in? Act as a sort of sounding board for any ideas she might have? After all, they still had a few days to go before arriving in Sydney and it would be foolish to completely ignore her…not after holding her so firmly in his arms.

  ‘Look, Dr Grainger.’ Yes. It was much better when he thought of her like that rather than as a desirable woman who had been in his arms twice in the past five minutes. ‘I hope you won’t think me too impertinent if I invite you to join me for a cup of tea in the lounge car. We could…discuss my papers or talk about the most recent breakthroughs in medical science.’ Business. He needed to keep everything on a professional level.

  His
smooth deep tones washed over her and his rounded English vowels made her knees quiver. ‘Oh.’ One-on-one time with Professor Fitzwilliam! Her first instinct was to immediately accept but she’d learned long ago to temper those first instincts because responsibility always came first. She was the older sibling, the carer, the reliable friend who put other people’s needs before those of her own.

  ‘Think it over,’ Gil said when it seemed she was having difficulty replying. ‘It’s a long journey and we’ll no doubt “bump” into each other again.’ And for some reason, he secretly hoped it was literally as well as figuratively. With that, he turned and headed back the way he’d come, but before he could reach the door, she spoke.

  ‘I’d love to sit and chat with you.’

  He looked over his shoulder, pleased with her answer. ‘Great.’

  ‘Especially about your latest journal article or your research developments. However…’ she shrugged apologetically ‘…it’s just that…um…I need to get my head around my conference presentation.’

  ‘You’re going to the conference?’ Gil’s eyebrows hit his hairline. Not an intern, then. Fully qualified specialist? Dr Grainger’s age kept increasing in his mind. His lips twitched at the thought. Poor woman. She was becoming older and older the more he discovered about her.

  ‘It’s my first time presenting,’ she confided with a laugh that ended in a sigh. ‘I’m rather nervous, though.’ She spread her hands wide. ‘I guess that must sound silly to someone like you who can get up and give brilliant keynote speeches with ease and clarity. Still, I’m looking forward to it.’ She didn’t want the man to think she was incompetent.

  ‘Don’t let the fact that I’ve done many speeches fool you. I still get a little nervous.’