A Very Special Delivery

“Be careful. Don’t marry someone just to give your daughter a father,”

Mick warned.

Laura looked surprised. “I don’t intend to marry at all.”

Mick’s eyes seemed to turn fiercer than before, but he only gave her a quick nod. He gently touched her baby’s cheek, then he took Laura’s hand in his and studied it, as if remembering the hours they’d spent with their fingers linked.

Carefully he curled Laura’s fingers closed. “Sleep,” he whispered. “Rest. Have a good life.”

Laura watched him disappear. Mick wasn’t the first man who’d walked out of her life. Her father had walked away many times. Her baby’s father had left. So she shouldn’t feel sad to see Mick leave. Heavens, she didn’t even know him! Even so, he wasn’t a man she would easily forget.

“I hope there’s nothing to this imprinting thing, sweetie,” Laura crooned to her child. “Don’t go getting attached to Mick. Just don’t.”

Maitland Maternity: The Prodigal Children

The Inheritance by Marie Ferrarella

Silhouette Single Title

A Very Special Delivery by Myrna Mackenzie

SR #1540

The Missing Maitland by Stella Bagwell

SR #1546

A Very Special Delivery
Myrna Mackenzie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MYRNA MACKENZIE,

winner of the Holt Medallion honoring outstanding literary talent, has always been fascinated by the belief that within every man is a hero, and inside every woman lives a heroine. She loves to write about ordinary people making extraordinary dreams come true. A former teacher, Myrna lives in the suburbs of Chicago with her husband—who was her high school sweetheart—and her two sons. She believes in love, laughter, music, vacations to the mountains, watching the stars, anything unattached to the words physical fitness and letting dust balls gather where they may. Readers can write to Myrna at P.O. Box 225, LaGrange, IL 60525-0225.

THE MAITLANDS:

MEGAN MAITLAND:

Matriarch of the Maitland family. Her life had been filled with sorrow, excitement and joy. Once she was reunited with her long-lost son, she’d thought all would be well. But now strange things were happening at her clinic, and she wasn’t sure who was behind the mystery. Was her dream of a maternity clinic going to fail?

JANELLE MAITLAND:

The oldest of black sheep Robert Maitland’s children. Ambitious and grasping, she’d stolen and blackmailed and lied to gain the Maitland money. She’d been captured and sent to jail, but she has broken out. Could she be behind the incidents? And was she representative of all the prodigal Maitlands?

RAFE MAITLAND:

The youngest of Robert’s children. Hardworking rancher. He’d always lived life alone, but in the past few months he’d acquired a daughter—and a wife! Now he would do anything to protect his family….

LAURA MAITLAND:

Robert’s third child. Vulnerable new mother. She’d swallowed her pride to ask for help with her child. She’d vowed never to depend on another man again, but Mick Hannon was very hard to resist….

LUKE MAITLAND:

Robert’s second child. Even investigative reporter Blossom Woodward couldn’t find anything out about his past. Or his future…

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

“I—I’m sorry, but I think I’ve waited too long. Please help me. I’m going to have my baby. Right now.”

The soft, shaky words caught Mick Hannon’s attention and he spun from where he’d been reviewing a set of blueprints outside Austin’s Maitland Maternity clinic to see a pale, delicate woman with long brown hair swaying on her feet. Her eyes were wide with distress, her arms cradled her abdomen. She was staring beseechingly at one of the gardeners who’d been trimming the bushes at this end of the long drive.

Just at that moment, the woman sucked in a deep breath and a low moan spilled from her pale lips. Her knees began to buckle.

The unfortunate gardener’s eyes went round and scared. He didn’t move.

“Hell,” Mick said, and he threw off his hard hat and rushed forward, slipping his hand behind the woman’s back to support her as she began to slide downward.

“Easy, darlin’,” he crooned kneeling as he helped her to sit down. “Easy, now. We’ll get you inside where the doctors will take care of you.” With his arm looped around her, the silk of her hair drifted against his neck, soft and smelling of flowers. In spite of her condition, she felt as light as froth. But as she leaned her weight against his shoulder, she stiffened, and he felt the tension of her body against his side. The contraction rippled through her, tightening her slender arms and legs. He looked straight into huge green eyes glazed with pain. A light sheen of perspiration had dampened a few strands of her hair, making them catch against her lips.

A sense of panic and urgency filled him. This might be a maternity clinic, but he was only here to add a wing to the building. Pregnant women and babies were outside the realm of what he knew or wanted to know.

“I’m—all right,” she said as if she’d read his very thoughts, and he wondered if he’d spoken without realizing it. “Don’t worry. This is—the way all women do it, I think. It’s supposed to hurt.” But her teeth sank into her lip and all he could think was that it wasn’t fair that a woman this tiny should have to bear a pain this big for a baby that would come back in sixteen years and break her heart fifty thousand times.

He slid in closer, meaning to lift her, hoping it was the right thing to do and that he wouldn’t hurt her.

But she shook her head slightly, gasping. “I think— I think maybe I should get up and walk. All the books tell you to walk,” she said in a strained voice the size of a field mouse.

Mick duly noted her need to be in control of her situation. He also noted how pale her skin was against her dark lashes. Gently, he adjusted his grip on her, trying to make her more comfortable, as she struggled to rise.

“Shh. Be still. You can walk later,” he suggested. “After the doctors say it’s all right.”

And right then, her body quivered and tightened and he could tell the roll of pain was gathering speed and depth. Her teeth clicked together as she held on to the scream he was sure she needed to give vent to.

“Hold on,” he said gruffly, trying not to jostle her and hurt her any more than she already was. “I’ll get a doctor. Don’t move.” Carefully he helped her to settle back against one of the pillars of the clinic’s entrance, then dashed off to find help.

The doors of the clinic slid back with an electric swish, and Mick strode into the waiting room, taking in his surroundings. There was no doctor, only a young receptionist in serious conversation with Megan Maitland, CEO of Maitland Maternity and matriarch of the Maitland clan, one of the first people he’d learned to recognize when he arrived in Austin a week ago. The tension in his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Megan probably knew a lot about women on the verge of giving birth.

“Ms. Maitland, please. There’s a woman outside who needs you,” he said, and to his relief, Megan only looked startled for a second before she nodded and rushed out the door in front of him.

Mick followed close behind her, but his heart nearly stopped beating when he saw his pregnant beauty standing on unsteady legs and trying to move toward the building. Her face was pale, her eyes stricken. She slipped, and Megan rushed forward, catching her as they both nearly went down. The older woman gave the younger one her strength.

The pregnant woman shuddered and spoke, her words coming out in a garbled whisper. She closed her eyes and once again struggled to rise.

This wouldn’t do. To hell with what the doctor’s would advise—or anything else. Mick stepped in and scooped this fragile, valiant woman into his arms, holding her close.

He glanced down at her. “You all right?”

She opened her eyes and nodded tightly, then took a gasping breath of air as she looked toward Megan.

“Now, blow it out,” he directed, when it seemed as if the air had gotten trapped in her lungs.

She did, then took another breath and let it out, then another. She stole another quick glance toward the woman who was a legend in the baby birthing business.

“Okay. I’m—I’m…better now,” the soft bundle of woman he was holding managed to say, and his attention was drawn to those green eyes that were now gazing straight into his own. “I—thank you for being here, and for helping me, but—I think I’ve finally pulled myself together now.” Her glance took in both Mick and Megan. “I’m sorry that I acted so—so—”

“Pregnant?” he guessed with a hint of a smile.

She tried to smile back, but it was obvious that she was very weak. How in the world had she even managed to get here? “Pregnant,” she agreed. “And stupid in not realizing my back pains were real contractions. But—I’m sure I’m fine now. You can put me down. Now that I’ve caught my breath I can walk,” she said. She pushed against his chest with those delicate, fluttery hands of hers. A fruit fly would have made more of an impact. Her breath still sounded a bit labored, and he made no move to follow her instructions.

He also noticed that she wasn’t wearing a ring. So? Maybe she didn’t have a husband…or maybe, well, there were plenty of pitiful excuses for husbands around. His father and stepfather had been cut from that very cloth, but with that thought, his beauty’s baby chose that moment to move into action again. Mick felt the quick catch in her breath. Tension climbed his body as he clutched the woman close.

“Let’s get her inside,” Megan said. A chill trickle of fear ran sprints up and down his spine. “We’ll get her into a wheelchair and into the delivery room.”

But the lady in his arms clutched tighter as the pain climbed and Megan shook her head.

“All right, never mind the wheelchair—or protocol. Come with me. I’ve had three babies of my own and I’m definitely of the opinion that when a woman is in labor, she deserves to be given whatever she needs. Right now, Mr. Hannon, this woman appears to need you.”

For half a second, Mick wondered how the woman knew his name. But then, he’d heard she made a point of learning the names of those who worked for her. With the recent acts of vandalism at the clinic, she’d want to be able to identify the temporary employees. That wasn’t good. The less the Maitlands knew of him the better. He should really leave now that he’d gotten his silken-haired beauty some help.

He opened his mouth to suggest that he needed to get back to work, but then the woman in his arms closed her eyes. Her delicate jaw tensed. And the gates of reason swung shut with a muffled click. He reluctantly nodded his agreement to Megan. He would stay here a few minutes longer.

Briskly Megan led the way into the clinic, past the cool pastel reception area and down a corridor into a birthing room decorated in pale blue and white with honey-toned wood accents. It looked more homey than the hotel room Mick was staying in right now.

Gently, he deposited the lady in his arms in a cushioned rocker, but she was apparently beyond noticing her surroundings. Indeed, she had curved those slender hands around his fingers and was holding on for dear life as if only he could save her. She looked up at him with deep distress in her eyes and, automatically, he dropped to his knees, his jeans sinking into the plush carpet. He kept his eyes on hers and let her try to crush his big hands with her small ones.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Hold on to me.”

“You’re going to do just fine,” Megan said. “Mick and I are going to make sure of that.”

For half a second Mick’s concentration broke. Belatedly, he remembered what he’d known for years. He was no woman’s champion, and he had excellent reasons to steer clear of tempting women who were nesting. Still, right now his reservations, his hard-and-fast rules for living his life would have to be set aside. He turned his attention back to his damsel in distress.

“You’ll be fine, sunshine,” he whispered reassuringly. “And so will baby sunshine.”

His lady gave a quick, chopping nod of her head, then simply stared back at him fiercely as if he possessed some secret he knew he didn’t have. She held herself almost motionless, only her never-let-go grip on his fingers revealing the battle being fought within her body.

She’s too still, Mick thought. As if she weren’t even alive. “Ms. Maitland?” he asked.

“Breathe,” Megan directed the woman. “Like this.” And soon Mick was breathing along with her, his pregnant beauty watching his every move and taking her cues from him.

When the contraction finally passed, she looked down at her hands, at her onion-white knuckles and her choking grip on his fingers. Carefully she opened her hands and released him.

“Sorry,” she whispered weakly. “Thank you.” Her voice was small, some might say prim.

“Don’t mention it.” He softened his usually low, gruff voice as much as he could. “You’re much too small to hurt me.”

“I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your afternoon,” she said, licking dry lips.

He handed her the glass of water Megan passed to him. “Hey, sweet stuff, you’re making my day a lot more interesting than it might have been. It’s not all that often that a man gets to take a beautiful woman in his arms on his coffee break. I’ll be the envy of my men.” From somewhere he managed to dredge up a reassuring smile.

“Thank you for being kind.” An entrancing trace of pink tinged the lady’s cheeks. She looked away. As if she thought he would repeat tales of her most private moments to his men.

Which reminded him, his co-workers would be thinking he’d gone back to Dallas and left them behind.

“Excuse me, Ms. Maitland, but…” He nodded toward the window, not wanting to mention his concern and worry his lovely little mother-to-be even more.

Megan nodded. “I already had our receptionist let your crew know we had commandeered your services. You don’t mind?”

He minded, but he could tell that the beauty was listening. The truth was that he’d spent his whole adult life avoiding women who represented hearth and home. In fact, the last time he’d been this intimate with a woman, he’d been intent on making sure he didn’t make any babies while he took his pleasure. He’d certainly never thought to see the inside of a birthing room.

Shouldn’t be here now, he thought, but he turned his attention to the woman and Megan, who was, essentially, his employer these days.

“You came in alone,” Megan said to the woman. “Have you met with one of the doctors here before?”

A vehement shaking of the head followed. “I just arrived in town today.”

“Do you…have someone meeting you here?”

Those soft green eyes looked suddenly unsure. “I’m here alone. I’m—not married, if that’s what you mean. But I’m okay. Really, I can do this on my own,” the woman added quickly, looking at Mick.

In spite of her uncomfortable condition, she managed to raise that delicate chin in an attempt at bravado. Her skin was dewy and pale, a startling contrast to pink lips, dark hair and the vulnerable but rich green of her eyes. The thought that some man had tasted those lips, brushed his fingers through that silken hair and gazed into those eyes as he joined his body to hers nine months ago skimmed through Mick’s mind, and his breath snagged in his throat. Instantly he felt like even more of a heel than the jerk who’d left her to deal with the consequences.

But she was still staring at him, waiting. Obviously she wanted him to leave. No surprise. This was an intimate situation. He could understand her reluctance to share it with a stranger. She’d be even more reluctant to have him here, and so would Megan if they knew who he was and that he was at Maitland Maternity under false pretenses.

“You’re quite a gutsy lady,” he said with a nod of admiration at his dark-haired woman. “Make sure and say hello to your little one when she arrives.”

He started to rise, but Megan shook her head.

“Not yet,” she said, before turning to her patient.

“I admire your determination, dear, but I hope you’ll reconsider,” Megan said gently. “I’ve gone through labor alone, and believe me, it’s much better to have someone coach you along, even if they’re inexperienced. Mr. Hannon’s been given the green light to stay. It’s unorthodox to have him here, perhaps, but we’ll find him a help. You will help, won’t you?”

He wanted to say no, but there didn’t seem to be any answer but yes. If he left, who would she hold on to when the pain came? Megan’s fingers looked much too fragile. The nurse who had entered moments ago had other details to see to.

“I’ll stay,” he agreed.

“That wouldn’t be fair,” the woman was saying. “You just had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And really—I don’t need anyone. I want to do this by myself.”

He really ought to be relieved at her dismissal. The thought of staying here and watching this woman suffer ranked right at the top of the list of things he didn’t want to do today or ever. But the memory of that lost, frightened look in her eyes was still fresh.

“I’d consider it an honor if you’d let me stay,” he said, countering her request. “Who knows when I might need to know how to do this again?” he tried to tease, and it seemed to work.

“See there, dear. You’d be doing Mick a favor for when he has his own children,” Megan agreed brightly.

Even though he’d never have any children, Mick thought.

Still, when the next contraction started, he reached out for her hand and welcomed the soft pads of her fingertips pressing into his skin. He stroked his thumb over her palm.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You’re the bravest woman in the city right now. Your baby’s going to be lucky to get someone who’s such a fighter.”

He slipped his hand behind her and rubbed small circles over her slender lower back as Megan directed him to.

The woman looked up at him helplessly.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered. “Let me help you. Yell at me if it helps. Tell me what you think of the male race,” he urged when she simply clamped her hands down harder on him.

That made those green eyes flash. “Men—I—yes. I—I just can’t say. I don’t want to talk now. I can’t think straight,” she choked out, but the words were said with such intensity that Mick hoped that she’d found some release.

Finally the contraction slid away. The woman slumped back in her chair. She cast a slightly guilty look at Mick, but not too guilty, he noted. There was a little resentment thrown in, as well.

He grinned at her. “I almost got you to swear, didn’t I?” he asked.

“I never swear.”

“But you wanted to. And you didn’t think about the pain while I was irritating you, did you?”

A wan smile lifted one corner of her lips. “Now I’m on to you,” she said tiredly. She looked down. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “You ever consider doing this for a living?”

“I’ll take it up with my boss. If any of the guys go into labor, maybe he’ll make use of my services.”

Megan chuckled. She’d been coaching Mick during the contraction, but now she took up the clipboard the nurse had carried in with her and turned to her patient. “Well, dear, we really seem to be doing things backward today,” she said, “but we do need to get a bit of information from you, now that we have some breathing space.”

The woman seemed to gather a cloak of pride around her. She withdrew her hand from Mick’s. Her fingers absently pleated a fold of her yellow maternity top. “You want to know who I am.”

“For starters, yes,” Megan said gently.

The woman took a long, deep breath. For a minute Mick thought she was going to have another contraction, but then she squared her shoulders and nodded slowly.

“I’m Laura Maitland,” she said in that soft voice.

To her credit, Megan barely blinked. “From Las Vegas?”

Laura’s body stiffened slightly, as if someone had traced a probing finger down her spine. “Yes. A long time ago.”

“My late husband William’s niece,” Megan said. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

Laura looked away.

“Yes, I know. I’m—afraid my family hasn’t been very good to yours. I can understand why you’d want to confront my brothers and me. Our family has wronged you terribly.”

Mick had read the story about how Janelle Maitland had kidnapped Megan’s grandson. He knew of the eventual recovery of the child. He’d heard that Janelle had a sister.

“If I could change the past, I would,” Laura whispered to Megan. “I don’t expect you to welcome me. I wouldn’t have come at all if I’d had anywhere else to go, but there wasn’t much money and no insurance. I was worried about my baby, and…well, I’ve seen news of the clinic on television and you had sent me that invitation to the Maitland Christmas reunion, so I just…headed here. I—I can’t pay you right away, but my baby’s birth won’t be charity, I promise. If you let me have my child here, I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”

A long silence followed. Laura turned sad, worried eyes to the blue-eyed matriarch of the Maitland clan.

Megan laid a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “My dear, any woman in the world would ask for help when her child is at stake. I’ve been a woman in need myself, so please don’t distress yourself. Of course you’ll have your baby here. And please, don’t worry about the other just now. It wasn’t your doing, and the past doesn’t matter one whit when there’s a baby being born.”

But Mick knew the past did matter. If a person forgot his history, he made mistakes. He could hurt people. It helped to remember that and to know which paths were open to a man and which were closed.

But then the nurse looked at him, and his only thought was to get out of the way so that she could help prepare Laura for what lay ahead.

He took Laura’s hand into his own and touched his lips to the soft skin of her palm. “You’re doing great, angel,” he told her with a smile. “I’m just going to leave you to the pros now. Don’t swear too much at the medical professionals,” he teased.

But she hung on to his hand when he started to pull away.

“Thank you, Mr. Hannon,” she said solemnly, and he knew she thought he meant to slip away permanently.

Indeed, when he exited the room, he thought she was right. He did his best to think of Laura Maitland only as an interesting incident in his day, not as a real, living, flesh-and-blood, steel-and-silk woman.

Probably no one would blame him for simply going back to his job. It was the smart thing to do. He had come to Austin for a good cause, but to accomplish his goal, he needed to remain anonymous, in the shadows. Something as unusual as a construction worker helping out in the delivery room just might attract speculation.

“Be smart, Hannon. Don’t go letting sentiment or an overabundance of testosterone lead you around. A man in your position would do well to stay far away from Laura Maitland,” he whispered to himself.

He said that. He meant it, but then he heard a low moan. Laura was having another contraction. She would be scared.

Mick shoved the door open and entered the room uninvited.