Her Miracle Baby. Fiona Lowe

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       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘TELL me where you learned about snow caves.’ Will jostled Meg with his shoulder, hoping to keep her awake.

      The cave mostly protected them from the wind but it was bitterly cold. Hypothermia and sleep didn’t look very different from the outside. They’d got this far, and he was determined they would make it through the night alive.

      She yawned. ‘You’re trying to keep me awake, aren’t you?’ A smile played in her voice.

      An image of her high cheekbones framing her plump upturned lips flittered across his mind. The same smile that had captivated him six hours ago. It seemed a lifetime ago.

      ‘You’ve found me out. We don’t have to talk about snow caves, we can pick any topic at all.’ A blast of wind brought in snow and he started to cough, his ribs sending out shards of red-hot pain.

      She stiffened against him. ‘Will?’ Her concern radiated through the confined space. She reached out, fumbled with the zipper on his coat and then determinedly searched under his polar fleece until her hand rested on his skin. On his ribs.

      Her touch should have been cold. But her fingers sparked off a series of mini-explosions that travelled straight to his groin. Hell! It was below zero, he’d just survived a plane crash, he was in a snow cave with bruised ribs and he could still get aroused. This definitely wasn’t the right time or place.

      A moan escaped his lips.

      He heard her breath catch before her words rushed out. ‘You’re in pain. Can you breathe without pain?’

      ‘Yes, I can. It just hurts to cough.’

      ‘Are you sure? Please, don’t put on a macho act for me. I don’t need you developing a punctured lung.’ The stern tone in her voice couldn’t hide her fear.

      He wanted to reassure her, lessen her fear, that he wasn’t going to die. That she wouldn’t be alone in the snow. ‘Think, Meg. If it was worse than bruised ribs, I wouldn’t have been able to lift Tom and dig a cave. I’ve seen your nursing skills in action, you know your stuff. Don’t let panic override your knowledge base.’

      Her hand dropped away from his skin and the icy air swooped in, absorbing the heat in a moment. ‘Sorry.’

      ‘Hey.’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘We’re in this together and I appreciate your concern. How’s your ankle feeling?’

      ‘It’s throbbing.’

      ‘Any pins and needles?’ He was worried swelling might be impeding blood flow.

      ‘No, I can still feel my toes, so that’s a good sign.’

      She relaxed slightly, her body resting fractionally more against his. Despite the fact their sides were touching for the much-needed heat exchange, he could feel her holding herself aloof from him.

      ‘So back to snowcaves…’ he prompted.

      ‘At high school I did outdoor education. As we’re in an alpine region we did both snow and bushfire safety to cover each end of the spectrum. I never expected to use it.’

      She wriggled against him in an unconscious action as she tried to get comfortable.

      He closed his eyes against the surge of heat that rocketed through him. She had no idea what she did to him and she couldn’t know. Tonight they had to keep warm and that meant body contact. He wished he’d taken more notice when his secretary had talked about meditation and achieving a ‘Zen-like’ state.

      She finally stilled, having pulled her legs up to her chin, and he released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. ‘So who’s worrying about you right now?’

      ‘My mother.’ A different tension radiated from her. ‘She doesn’t need this sort of stress. Mum’s got MS. Something like this could spark off a further progression of the disease.’

      Regret for her family pulled at him. He knew the emotional toll of a chronically ill parent.

      Her hands tugged agitatedly at the space blanket. ‘I was worried about her spending this week on her own. I wasn’t expecting her to think I’d died as well.’ Her voice rose on the last words, her anxiety palpable.

      Professionally he knew she needed to talk, to help keep the panic at bay, and yet part of him wanted to know about her life. ‘So, she’s still living independently?’

      ‘Yes and no. I live with her and we run the farm together. She gets tired by the end of the day and uses elbow crutches.’

      Astonishment combined with admiration. ‘You work full-time as a nurse as well as running a farm with an ill mother?’

      She nudged him with her elbow. ‘You city slickers don’t know what hard work is.’

      The playful tone in her voice sobered. ‘The land is part of you and very hard to give up, no matter the obstacles. And all farmers have those, especially the ones in the Laurel Valley. The bottom dropped out of tobacco a year before Dad died and he’d started to branch out and grow chestnuts. We’ve kept his phase-one orchard and leased out the rest of the farm to our neighbours.’

      ‘Sounds like tough times.’ A niggle of guilt at his financially secure life tweaked him.

      ‘Not just for us. The entire district is struggling. Changing your primary industry after many years of a dropping СКАЧАТЬ