HER MIRACLE TWINS
From brooding boss to the father of her babies!
Dr. Chantal Winstone longs to become a mother—but she never imagined her gorgeous, aloof boss Dr. Michel Devine as the father! When he coolly proposes that they have a baby together Chantal is shocked—maybe his emotions really did die with his beloved wife….
Yet the chemistry between them is undeniable, and after only one unexpected passionate night Chantal finds herself pregnant with twins! Can the miracle of giving life to two tiny babies heal their damaged hearts?
He found he looked forward to working with her every day. And now she was bringing hope into his life by agreeing to have his baby.
Their
baby.
He put down his fork and reached for her small hand. “You won’t change your mind, will you, Chantal?” he said huskily.
She felt the warmth of his hand around hers and skin against skin seemed almost erotic. She could feel deep down that being with Michel was affecting her more than it should.
“No, of course I won’t change my mind.” She stood up. “Dessert?” she asked briskly.
He could feel something like an electric current running between them. Inside him was a powerful feeling of wanting to take Chantal in his arms and hold her until the feeling went away. He stood up and put his arms around her, drawing her close. This didn’t make sense. She should be pushing him away, telling him to stick to the plan. Maybe she was feeling as he was. He bent his head to kiss her.
She parted her lips as every sense in her body ignited with passion and longing. She was feeling overwhelmed by the sensual fluidity of her body as she molded herself against Michel’s hard, virile, muscular frame. She was melting away as he held her tightly in his arms. There was a powerful force gripping her. She knew she should fight it but she had no intention of doing so. She didn’t even want to stir in his arms in case the dream ended.
He lifted her into his arms, carrying her toward the door. There was no need for words as he carried her upstairs. They were both intent on giving in to the magic of the moment. There was no need to justify his actions or her compliance. Life was too precious to banish moments like this.
Dear Reader,
I’ve returned once more to my favourite part of France for the setting of
Her Miracle Twins.
I fell in love with the area when I strolled hand in hand one summer’s day along a favorite beach with my boyfriend, John, who was soon to be my husband. Later we took our children. Now some of our children and grandchildren live not far from this beach.
I still walk along the same beach if I’m searching for a new romantic story. Although my husband died a few years ago I still feel the inspiration he used to give me when I needed to conjure up a romantic hero.
The beach is set in a beautiful area of hills and valleys near fashionable Le Touquet and the picturesque old town of Montreuil-sur-Mer. It’s a perfect background for the romance of Chantal and Michel. In
Her Miracle Twins
we also meet up again with Chantal’s cousin Julia and her husband, Bernard, who were the hero and heroine in
Summer with a French Surgeon.
Chantal, like her cousin Julia, has many emotional obstacles to overcome before she finds true love and happiness.
I hope you enjoy reading this romantic story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Margaret
HER MIRACLE TWINS
Margaret Barker
Praise for
Margaret Barker:
“…a nice read with likable characters.”
—Harlequin Mills & Boon reader review on
Summer with a French Surgeon
To John, my inspiration always.
CHAPTER ONE
‘
I
T
WAS
THAT
wretched stone just under the surface that tripped me up, Michel. Look at that dreadful, jagged monster. Somebody must have—’
‘Chantal, keep still, will you? I’m trying to assess how much damage you’ve done.’
‘Damage I’ve done? I’m trying to keep still but— Ow, that hurt!’
Sprawled on the sand, Chantal glared up at the tall, athletic man in white running shorts and black tee shirt who was now kneeling on the sand beside her. He appeared to have come from nowhere as she’d tripped and hurt her ankle. She deduced he must have been running behind her, but he was barely recognisable as the suave director of Accident and Emergency she was used to seeing as she worked alongside him at the Hôpital de la Plage.
‘If you weren’t my boss I’d...’
He looked down at her, smiling in the most patronisingly irritating yet surprisingly sexy way, his fingers firmly supporting her swelling ankle. She told herself to concentrate on the pain, which would help her to stop fantasising about something that was never going to happen to her again—especially with the usually serious, work-focussed Dr Michel Devine.
‘I’m going to have to carry you up the beach to my car up there on the promenade so I can get you back to the hospital.’
‘No! I don’t want to be carried. Just help me to my feet so I can hop as far as—’
‘Be quiet, Dr Winstone, and that’s an order!’
She frowned as she decided to give in to him. He always got his own way in Urgences but she’d never seen him quite so domineering before. She couldn’t help admiring the expression on his face. It made him appear even more desirable as a man. And she didn’t do desirable any more. Not since last September.
She decided the pain was addling her brain, filling her head full of mad ideas. Weird feelings she would never have contemplated since she’d changed completely on that awful night.
Effortlessly, Michel picked her up and carried her in his arms across the sand. The pain in her ankle was now becoming more intense. She decided to give in completely. He was, after all, the most experienced expert in accidental injuries for miles around, probably in the whole of France. And it was a good feeling to simply relax in his arms.
Yes, she should be grateful he’d come along when he had. And the pleasant feeling of strong, muscular, masculine arms around her helped to counteract the pain. Since the two-timing Jacques had done the dirty on her she’d never expected to tolerate a man’s arms around her again.
As he was loading her into the back seat of his car she put on a contrite tone of voice and told him she was sorry.
‘Sorry for what? Being a difficult patient? Forget it. I get to see them every day. Once I’ve shown them how to co-operate, as I did with you, we get on fine. Your childish behaviour was because you were suffering from shock, probably still are.’
He was looking directly into her eyes now, an expression of concentration creasing his forehead. She found herself admiring his warm, brown, expressive eyes.
‘How’s the pain now? Worse?’
She nodded as a particularly sharp spasm passed through her ankle. ‘Mmm. Do you have any—?’
He was already pulling out a strip of painkillers from his glove compartment. ‘Swallow those two with this water.’ He opened a new pack. ‘Now, try to keep the ankle as still as you can. I’ll get it X-rayed as soon as we get back to hospital.’
She lay still as Michel drove off. The welcome sight of the Hôpital de la Plage came into view and she gave a sigh of relief.
‘It was the warm spring sunshine that tempted me out this Sunday morning,’ she muttered, almost to herself, as Michel drove up to the front entrance of the hospital. ‘I should have stayed in bed.’
‘So should I. I hadn’t planned that I would have to work on my day off.’
He switched off the engine as a porter arrived to remonstrate with the owner of this car parking in an ambulance space.
‘Oh, sorry, Dr Devine. I hadn’t recognised you. I see you’ve got a patient on the back seat so— Oh, it’s you, Dr Winstone. Are you all right?’
‘No, she’s not all right. Could you please bring a stretcher and then park my car in the staff car park?’
Chantal could tell that Michel was reverting to type after his initial attempt to be patient with her. She remained very still and quiet as a nurse came out to help the porter load her onto the trolley. Michel supervised while holding her right ankle to prevent any further damage as they trundled along to X-Ray.
* * *
‘Good news No fractures.’ Michel was pointing out the X-rays illuminated on the screen.
She raised her head from the pillow.
‘Thank heavens for that. So it’s simply a sprain. I’ll get the ankle strapped up and I’ll be on duty again tomorrow morning.’
He frowned. ‘Chantal, there’s nothing simple about a sprain, as you well know. I think you’ve been lucky that you haven’t torn the surrounding ligaments but there’s been mild stretching of the ligaments which will have to be dealt with. The treatment is to minimise the pain. You’ve started on the paracetamol. Two five hundred mg every six hours will take the edge off it. For the first three days you need complete rest, ice-pack applications pressed on to the injury for fifteen minutes every two hours and—’
‘Michel, I can’t possibly do all that. I’ve got too much to do.’
‘Exactly. That’s why I’m going to put you in a side ward attached to Female Orthopaedic. I take no chances with my staff. Deal with a sprain properly at the beginning and future problems shouldn’t arise.’
Chantal lay back on the trolley, looking up at the bright lights above her head. Michel was on the phone to the orthopaedic sister. He was smiling now. ‘Yes, we’re coming along now if that’s OK with you, Sidonie? Good. Yes, you know Chantal, Dr Winstone. She’s been with us in Emergency since February. We’ll go over the treatment she needs when I arrive. I’ve got hold of a porter at last. Be with you in a couple of minutes.’
* * *
Half an hour later Chantal was safely settled in an orthopaedic bed, wearing the most unglamorous hospital pyjamas. Her right leg was elevated on hard orthopaedic cushions, Sister Sidonie was applying an ice pack to the painful area. Michel was watching her every move as if ready to criticise.
‘Ow!’ Chantal found it impossible to check her cry as Sister pressed on the painful area.
Michel was nodding his approval. ‘That’s exactly right, Sister. More pressure on the injury just there. Keep it like that for fifteen minutes. Here, let me show you the exact pressure required to reduce this inflammation.’
Taking over from Sister Sidonie, he placed his fingers on Chantal’s ankle.
‘Michel!’
‘Yes, I expect that did hurt a bit but you’ll thank me for this later.’
Chantal lay back against the pillows and gave in. She didn’t know what he had in mind for the thanks she would have to give him. Even through the pain he was inflicting she got a thrill at the touch of his fingers. Most bizarre. She’d worked with this man for over two months and hadn’t ever thought of him in this way. As she’d suspected earlier, the pain must have addled her brain. She’d gone back to childhood days and was imagining he was a knight in shining armour who’d come to rescue her from danger, probably on a white horse instead of simply jogging along the beach.
‘That’s better.’ He smiled and patted her hand.
His teeth were very white, she noticed now, very even. His dark hair, which was hanging down over his forehead as he leaned over her, gave him a rumpled, little-boy look, something she’d never seen before as he worked efficiently on his patients. But it was those sexy dark brown eyes that were impossibly attractive. How come they hadn’t registered with her until this morning?
‘Sister, I’ll be back later in the day. Reapply the pack for fifteen minutes every two hours. In about four days we’ll be able to put the ankle in a tubular compression bandage and get the physiotherapist to introduce massage, ultrasound therapy and gentle joint movement.’
Chantal raise her head. ‘Michel, when can I go back to my room in the medics’ quarters?’
‘That will depend on your progress. Hopefully in a few days we should be able to get you up on crutches. Once you can move around with the use of a stick I might let you go back to your room so long as you don’t take any weight on the right ankle. You may even spend an hour or so in Emergency doing paperwork or something non-strenuous. We’ll have to see how you get on.’
She couldn’t help noticing that he’d reverted to his totally professional manner with her. She was just another patient requiring attention on his day off. Fine. He was just another medical colleague. When these unusual flights of fancy left her she would revert to type as well.
He was glancing at his watch. ‘Any questions before I have to go?’
She suddenly felt a moment of panic. ‘When will you be coming back?’ As soon as she’d asked the pathetic question she regretted it. What was the matter with her? The pain gave her an excuse perhaps but she hoped he didn’t read anything into it.
Sidonie was smiling at her in a reassuring, almost maternal way. ‘It’s OK, Chantal, we’ll take care of you.’
‘I’ll be back this evening. Don’t worry. A month from now you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about.’
She certainly would. As she watched the lithe, athletic figure disappear through the door she was experiencing mixed emotions. Somehow she felt she was getting to know the real person beneath the dour façade Michel presented to his professional colleagues. Her emotions this morning were dangerously out of order. She too had always elected to present a façade to her colleagues to cover up the agony she’d been through before she’d started working here.
Sidonie applied more pressure with the ice pack. ‘Quite a charmer, isn’t he?’
Chantal hesitated. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. He’s good at his job.’
‘Oh, he’s devoted to his job. You know his wife died don’t you? Over three years ago, I believe. Apparently, she died of cancer and he’s never got over it. We all fancied him when he arrived to be Director of Emergency, over a year ago now.’
Sidonie gave an expressive sigh. ‘Well, who wouldn’t fancy him? Tall, dark and handsome and built like an athlete. But he made it quite clear to all of us that he wasn’t interested in relationships. He’s the sort of man who obviously adored his wife and will never take a long-term girlfriend. Definitely not remarry, that’s for sure! She must have been a very special woman to deserve such loyalty from him.’
Sidonie paused in her observations and gave another sigh. ‘That’s unfortunate for all the unmarried staff who lavish attention on him. If I wasn’t a forty-year-old married woman with two children I’d fancy him myself.’
She removed the ice pack and smiled down at her patient. ‘You’ve been working in Emergency since February, haven’t you? I heard you were on the medical staff of a hospital in Paris before you came here. How does the Hôpital de la Plage compare to your previous hospital?’
Chantal hesitated. ‘Well, it’s different. Actually, it’s like coming home for me. You see, I was born just a few miles away in Montreuil. My English father died when I was seven. My French mother resumed her teaching career after that and she took me to live in Paris where she’d got a job. That’s where she brought me up, although we always used to return to this area and stay here during the long summer vacation.
‘This coastline feels like my second home because I know it so well. When I was old enough I did my medical training in Paris and took a staff position when I qualified.’
Sidonie put the ice pack down on a trolley and sat down beside her patient. ‘Was it because you regard this area as your second home that you chose to leave Paris?’
Chantal looked at the figure of the kindly woman and found her experienced presence very comforting. She welcomed a girly chat to take her mind off the pain and the unexpected turn of events today.
She lay back against her pillows. ‘It was a sudden decision. Very sudden.’
She drew in her breath as the awful memory of that fateful day flooded back to her.
‘One minute I was on cloud nine, in love with the man of my dreams, three months pregnant with his much-wanted baby.’
She hesitated. Should she, indeed could she, go on? What did she have to lose?
‘Then the phone rang and everything changed.’
Her voice was quavering as she gathered her thoughts. Was it really a good idea to unload the sordid details onto someone who was a colleague?
The orthopaedic sister was watching her with a deeply sympathetic expression on her face, as if anticipating what was to come. Oh, it would be good for her to get it off her chest. She’d bottled it up ever since she arrived at the Hôpital de la Plage. It was about time she relaxed and socialised a bit more. It wasn’t her fault she’d been totally hoodwinked by a despicable, two-timing scoundrel.
She could hear the sound of a heavy trolley being pushed past her door through the swing doors into the ward and the murmur of the nurses and patients as the doors opened.
A nurse knocked, before opening her door. ‘Dr Winstone, would you like some lunch?’
Chantal shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Nurse.’
Sidonie turned her head. ‘Is everything OK in the ward, Sylvie?’
The young nurse smiled. ‘Fine, Sister. A nice quiet Sunday for once.’
‘I’ll be back to check the medicines after you’ve served the lunch. Pay attention to the patients on extra fluids, won’t you?’
‘Of course, Sister.’ She turned back to her patient. ‘So what happened after the phone rang?’
Chantal moved her good foot into a more comfortable position at the side of the cushions supporting her injured ankle as that fateful evening last September came flooding back.
‘I was in the kitchen in my apartment, roasting a chicken for our supper, I remember. My boyfriend had phoned earlier to invite himself round that evening so I’d picked up a chicken at the supermarket on my way home from hospital.’
She swallowed hard. ‘The phone rang. I answered it. It was a woman’s voice. She asked if Jacques was there. I called him over and went on preparing the meal. I assumed it was probably one of his private patients. He seemed to have lots of those. He was such a charming person. Unpredictable, though. I never knew when he was going to turn up.’