Dr. Preston's Daughter Read online

  “If I remember rightly, the idea of settling down to family life was the last thing on your agenda.”

  “Yes,” he agreed at last, “I daresay it was, but in those days I had other things on my mind. My career was in its early stages and I needed to build it up…but circumstances change.”

  “So are you saying now that you would feel differently?” This was dangerous ground, but suddenly she was curious and felt she had to know how Stephen felt.

  “Maybe.” He looked down at her. “If all the conditions were right—and by that I mean if the person was right and if the chemistry was working.”

  “Oh, yes, the chemistry has to be working….” Lifting her head, Gemma gazed up into the wide night sky, with its endless expanse of stars.

  “The chemistry was right between you and me,” Stephen said softly. Moving a step toward her, he took her face between his hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “We were so good together, Gemma,” he murmured. “We were so in tune—your need for me always matched mine for you…I wanted you then and I want you now….”

  Dear Reader,

  Writing a Harlequin Medical Romance is rather like baking a cake—the ingredients have to be just right. There has to be medical drama; there has to be that certain element that creates the right atmosphere; there has, of course, to be an intriguing romantic relationship between the hero and the heroine, and also there has to be that extra, special ingredient that makes each book different.

  In Dr. Preston’s Daughter I hope I have provided the drama and excitement by setting the book in the cardiac unit of Denby General—a busy London hospital; the romantic intrigue by having the hero come back into the heroine’s life after three years apart; the atmosphere by letting the action take place during a heat wave in August; and that special ingredient in the form of an enchanting little girl called Daisy.

  I do hope you enjoy reading the finished product as much as I enjoyed creating it.

  With best wishes,

  Laura MacDonald

  Dr. Preston’s Daughter

  Laura MacDonald

  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

  IT WAS a shock—there was no denying that—coming as it had right out of the blue. Why, oh, why hadn’t she taken more notice when the appointments of new members of staff had been discussed? If she had, she would have recognised the name—for wasn’t it a name that hovered constantly around the edges of her mind?

  But if she had, what could she have done about it? Could she have protested, said the new appointee was unsuitable—which, of course, would have been untrue? She knew that, just as she knew that her opinion wouldn’t have been considered anyway—after all, who was she to voice such an objection? And then again, even if she had been forewarned of the appointment, what else could she have done? What indeed could she do now?

  Very few options were open to her. She could hand in her notice and seek another position—and at first that had seemed her only option—or she could stick it out and carry on as if nothing had changed.

  ‘Gemma? Gemma, are you all right?’

  A voice broke into her troubled thoughts and she looked up sharply to find her friend and fellow staff nurse, Kim Slater, peering anxiously at her.

  ‘Oh, Kim. Yes, yes.’ Desperately she attempted to pull herself together. ‘I’m fine, thanks…’

  ‘You don’t look fine. In fact, you look as if you’d seen a ghost—you’ve gone really pale.’

  ‘Have I? I felt a bit dizzy just now, that’s all. I think I’ll go to the loo.’

  ‘Why don’t you take your break now?’ Kim still looked concerned.

  ‘What about the new patient?’ Gemma frowned. ‘Won’t she be arriving soon?’

  ‘If she does, I’ll admit her, and if Sister asks why, well, I’ll think of something.’

  ‘All right, then. Thanks, Kim, you’re an angel.’

  ‘I know.’ Kim grinned, her tiny, elfin-like face lighting up. ‘Now, push off before I change my mind.’

  After splashing her burning cheeks with cold water, Gemma felt a little better, but while she brewed a mug of instant lemon tea and took herself off to a corner of the staffroom, where hopefully she wouldn’t be disturbed, she found her mind returning to how it had been in those moments before it had happened—when life had still been normal.

  She had driven to work and parked in her usual space in the large staff car park of Denby General—London’s biggest and newest hospital. It was August and London was in the middle of a heat wave in what was proving to be one of the hottest summers for many years. The parks, usually so lush, were parched and brown after days of relentless, burning sunshine whilst on the roads the tar had melted, forming bubbling, molten pockets that overflowed into black rivulets. The flower-beds around the hospital car park resembled some arid wasteland, the earth cracked and the flowers limp and dusty, and because a hosepipe ban was in force they could expect no respite.

  It had been the coolest part of the day, if the previous few days were anything to go by, and as Gemma had locked her car and made her way into the huge edifice of glass and steel that soared above her she had taken in several deep breaths of the cool, unpolluted morning air as the sun shimmered above through a haze that had only threatened more heat to come.

  She loved her job at Denby as a senior staff nurse on the busy cardiac unit. She had been there nearly two years now after her previous job at St Jerome’s Hospital in the Midlands. Quickly she’d made her way across the car park and into the building. Already her hair, naturally honey blonde but bleached several shades lighter by the sun, had felt damp against her neck and the cotton, sleeveless dress she wore had begun to stick to her skin. It had felt mercifully cool inside the building and after greeting the doorman and reception staff, as she always did, Gemma had made her way up to the cardiac unit on the fourth floor by way of the lift.

  The morning ward routine had got under way as usual. The changeover from the previous shift, the early morning personal routine for the patients, breakfast, a drugs run, dispensing medication, the changing of dressings, the preparation of those patients facing surgery that day—it had all been normal, a routine carried out every day with little change. So at what point had it differed that morning? Gemma frowned. Had it been during the consultant cardiologist’s round? No, it had been just before that. And as she concentrated, willing herself to remember the sequence of events, she quite suddenly was able to pinpoint that exact moment when her world had fallen apart.

  It had been a sound that had done it. The sound of a human voice. A voice she would have recognised anywhere, under any circumstances, but more significantly a voice she had imagined she would never hear again. It had, quite literally, stopped her in her tracks. What had she been doing? She frowned again, desperately trying to remember, as if by reconstructing the sequence of events she could in some way change things. She had been checking a patient’s blood transfusion. Yes, that was it—Mr Tobin who had just had a triple bypass and who had only recently returned to the ward from the Intensive Care unit. He had joked weakly with her, asking if he had died and had gone to heaven and was she an angel?

  It had been then, at that precise moment, that she had heard the voice. It had taken her some time to turn round because the shock had rendered her temporarily immobile, and when at last she’d done so it had only been slightly gratifying to see
that his surprise had been as great as hers, because underneath had been the pain, pain like a knife twisting under her ribs, pain at seeing him again.

  He looked almost the same as he had three years ago but there were subtle differences. The same lean, good looks, but the dark hair cut short now whereas before he had worn it so it touched his collar. And his skin was tanned—not the tan acquired by a London heat wave but the sort of colour consistent with a spell in a hot country. The eyes were the same, however—nothing could change those hazel eyes which she remembered so well, the expression questioning, challenging even when he’d got over his initial shock of seeing her there. He’d crossed the ward immediately. At least he hadn’t just ignored her or pretended he hadn’t known her, as he might well have done under the circumstances.

  ‘Gemma,’ he said quietly. ‘This is a surprise.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed weakly. For one moment she had been afraid she was going to faint but thankfully the moment passed. ‘Hello, Stephen. What are you doing here at Denby?’ she managed to say at last.

  ‘I’ve joined Mr Van Haelfen’s team,’ he replied.

  There wasn’t time to say more for at that moment the man in question arrived. Bjorn Van Haelfen, Denby’s eminent cardiothoracic surgeon, strode onto the ward, surrounded by the other members of his team and accompanied by Ward Sister Julie Miles.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’ Stephen Preston nodded briefly before moving to join the others as they grouped themselves around the bed of the patient recovering from bypass surgery.

  And that was it. Kim tackled her shortly afterwards and here she was now in the staffroom, trying to remember what it had been like when life had been normal because there was no way that it could be normal from now on.

  Why had he come back to this country when he’d seemed so set on continuing with his career in Dubai? And if he’d seen fit to come back, why hadn’t he returned to the Midlands where he’d been before? Had it simply been coincidence that had brought him to London and to Denby General—the very hospital where she was working?

  She didn’t want him back in her life; she’d moved on. She’d got over him, for heaven’s sake—hadn’t she? Of course she had, she told herself firmly as she stood up, rinsed her coffee-mug and prepared to go back onto the ward.

  So, if that was the case, why did she still feel shaky? Why did her legs feel like jelly? It was simply the shock, that’s all. Shock did that to people, and when all was said and done it had been a shock, seeing Stephen Preston again after three years.

  Slowly she made her way back onto the ward. To her relief the consultant surgeon and his team had left and the ward was back to normal. In fact, it looked so normal that just for a moment Gemma wondered if the presence of Stephen Preston had simply been a figment of her imagination.

  ‘Oh, Gemma, there you are.’ Sister Miles bustled onto the nurses’ station. ‘Mrs McCleary has arrived. She’s for valve replacement tomorrow. Would you go and admit her, please? She’s in bay two. Bed four.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Glad to be given a specific job to do to take her mind off recent events, Gemma hurried down to bay two. She found the patient already undressed and sitting in her dressing-gown in a chair beside her bed. ‘Hello, Mrs McCleary—I’m Staff Nurse Gemma Langford,’ she said. ‘I’d like to take some details, please.’

  ‘I’m here for an operation.’ Mrs McCleary was twisting her hands together and Gemma sensed she was nervous about her forthcoming surgery.

  ‘Yes, I understand you’re to have a heart-valve replacement.’

  ‘That’s right,’ the patient agreed, ‘but I think I have to have some tests today.’

  ‘Let’s have a look at your notes.’ Gemma opened the patient’s folder. ‘Yes,’ she said after quickly reading through the information, ‘it says here you are to have tests before your operation.’

  ‘What will the tests be?’ Mrs McCleary looked even more anxious.

  ‘Well, there will be the usual blood tests, an electrocardiogram and an echocardiogram, all of which you will have had before so there’s nothing to worry about,’ Gemma replied, ‘but first of all I’d like to check your personal details. Now, your full name is Barbara McCleary and you are fifty-eight years old. And you live at 218a Mimosa Court, Putney?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who is your next of kin?’

  ‘My husband, Geoffrey,’ Barbara McCleary replied.

  Gemma moved swiftly on, taking details of Barbara’s medical history before checking on whether she had any dentures, crowns or contact lenses.

  ‘I now need to check your weight, pulse, temperature and blood pressure,’ she continued as she entered the details onto her chart.

  ‘It’s all so different these days,’ said Barbara as she watched Gemma with the temperature and blood-pressure machines. ‘When I had my hysterectomy it was still the old thermometer under the tongue instead of this contraption in your ear, and as for the blood pressure, well, in those days that always seemed to me to be a bit hit and miss with that rubber balloon thing.’

  Gemma laughed. ‘Modern nursing procedures have indeed moved on,’ she replied, ‘but that’s not to say that the old methods didn’t work just as well.’

  After completing Barbara McCleary’s admittance forms and securing the plastic identification tag on her wrist, Gemma made her way back to the nurses’ station.

  There was a little cluster of nurses around the station, all, it seemed, deep in conversation. With sudden, intuitive certainty Gemma knew what the topic would be on that particular morning. Warily she approached the group, knowing what was coming.

  One of the staff nurses, Mia Gallini, turned and saw her. ‘Oh, Gemma,’ she said, her black eyes sparkling wickedly, ‘have you seen him?’

  ‘Seen who?’ Gemma tried desperately to remain cool, casual.

  ‘The new man on Mr Van Haelfen’s team.’

  ‘Er, yes, I think I did see someone…’

  ‘Of course you did.’ Another of the nurses, a woman by the name of Pauline Higgs who had only recently joined the staff, looked at Gemma almost accusingly. ‘He spoke to you. When he first came onto the ward he went right across and spoke to you.’

  ‘Did he, Gemma?’ Mia turned and looked at her in surprise.

  ‘Oh, him!’ Gemma nodded as if it had just dawned on her who they were talking about. ‘Yes…He thought he knew me…that’s all.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Pauline. ‘Does anyone know anything about him? I heard a couple of the domestics talking and they were saying that they’d heard gossip from the doctors’ staffroom that he’s been working abroad—they thought Africa—so that would account for that glorious tan.’

  No, Gemma wanted to say, not Africa—Dubai. But she remained silent. She didn’t want the others to know about herself and Stephen Preston.

  ‘What’s his name?’ asked Kim.

  ‘Simon, I think,’ replied Mia.

  Stephen, screamed Gemma silently. It’s Stephen. Stephen Preston, he’s thirty-two years old, his birthday is in April which makes him an Aries, he loves Indian food, anything by Eric Clapton, his father is a QC, he has one sister…the list was endless. She could have gone on and on but she remained silent.

  ‘I don’t think that was his name,’ another of the nurses chipped in. ‘Simon is my boyfriend’s name and I would have remembered if that was his name. It was something else…’

  ‘Well, whatever it was, it doesn’t alter the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous—a real hunk,’ said Mia. ‘I wonder if he’s married.’

  ‘Bound to be, looking like that…and if he isn’t, he’s probably gay,’ sniffed Pauline.

  He isn’t either and I should know. Gemma only just managed to bite back the retort. On the other hand, while she well knew that Stephen wasn’t gay, did she know for certain that he wasn’t married? Three years was a long time and anything could have happened in Dubai. He could well be married by now.

  ‘What’s going on out here?’ Sister Miles
was suddenly amongst them. ‘If you haven’t anything to do…’

  The group miraculously dispersed.

  ‘Did he?’ murmured Kim in Gemma’s ear as they made their way into bay five where two patients were due back from Theatre.

  ‘Sorry?’ Gemma frowned.

  ‘Did he know you? You said the new registrar thought he knew you,’ said Kim. ‘I just wondered if he was right—you didn’t say.’

  Gemma was prepared to be as equally evasive as she’d been with the others, but Kim was her friend and something stopped her. She didn’t want to lie to Kim.

  ‘Yes,’ she said at last, aware as she did so of the quick, interested look that Kim threw her. ‘Yes, he did recognise me. We were at the same hospital in the Midlands for a time…’

  ‘Why didn’t you say so to the others?’ There was a puzzled half-smile on Kim’s face.

  ‘You know what they’re like.’ Gemma shrugged. ‘It was no big deal but they would go on about it—you know, pumping me for details about him, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Well, you couldn’t blame them really, could you?’ Kim wrinkled her nose. ‘You have to admit he is a bit out of the ordinary.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose he is.’ Gemma nodded.

  ‘Did they say he’s been working in Africa?’ asked Kim curiously.

  ‘Actually, I believe it was Dubai.’

  ‘Quite a coincidence, you both ending up here at Denby.’ Kim eyed her speculatively.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Gemma agreed awkwardly. At that moment, to her relief, the porters appeared with a patient and she and Kim stepped forward to assist.

  The patient, an elderly man, had just had angioplasty and for the next half-hour Gemma and Kim were busy setting up an infusion and carrying out observations.

  When they had finished and had left the patient to rest, they returned to the nurses’ station. ‘Are you all right now?’ asked Kim suddenly, as if she’d just remembered that earlier Gemma had appeared unwell.

  ‘Yes,’ Gemma replied quickly. ‘I’m fine.’