The Midwife and the Millionaire (8 page)

‘No doubt.' He sank under the water until not just his strong, brown shoulders were under but his chin as well. Just his angular face showed through, shadowed by the overhanging palms that darkened the planes of his cheeks. ‘It's good to be alive.' He pursed his lips and blew a leaf across the water towards her. The leaf spun and twisted and bumped against her chin.

It was just a leaf. She could feel her heart thundering under the water. His gaze locked with hers, and it was as if he blew the air over her skin, but that was ridiculous. She was under the water, for goodness sake.

Yet here she was, with tiny flutters of heated awareness in a cold pond of sudden desire. It shouldn't have been erotic. But it was. A stranger, in a strange place, and strange feelings she hadn't experienced before. Enough to kick in her belly and make her aware of the fullness in her breasts and the beat of her heart.

Then his breath rippled across the water to tickle her face. She moistened her lips to say something inane, but
before she could form the words he'd drifted closer until their noses touched with a little bump, like two leaves in a deserted pond, and she shivered.

All the time he stared into her eyes, and she could do little but breathe in and out and stare back and wonder at the dozen different blue rings inside his eyes and those dark, dark lashes drawing her closer.

She knew he was going to kiss her. Should be backing away when, in fact, she was drawn towards him by the primitive magnetism she had no control over.

When his mouth finally touched hers it was incredibly slow and gentle, an open-mouthed brush of his lips that impacted like an earth tremor against hers, and her lids drooped as she breathed in. His mouth slid to her cheek and down her neck, darting electrical tremors along her arms and legs that sent waves of mingled breath and kicks of desire back up into her chest. The sensations expanded in seismic rings of awareness and lust, and suddenly it was closer she needed to be, not further away.

Then he returned, took her mouth and enslaved her with a long draught from a well she hadn't known she had that meshed their souls in this primitive place, a day after they'd nearly died. Somehow, with that potent kiss, he touched the part of her that no one, not even Brad, had ever touched…and she was his. That simple and that complicated.

Immersed in sensation, she sighed as his hands slid from her shoulders down past her waist until he cupped
both hips and pulled her toward him. Somehow, her fingers became entangled in his thick hair and luxuriated in the springiness as her breasts were squashed against his chest.

Time passed, moment by glorious moment, and she slipped deeper and deeper under his spell until she realised she was clutching at him as he tried to pull back.

She opened her eyes, focused and, horrified, she jolted herself away and would have moved further if he hadn't put his hand out and stilled her.

‘It's OK. It's just a kiss. You're so beautiful,' he said, his voice heavy and deep, and she shuddered another breath in as he lifted a strand of hair off her forehead before he pulled back and floated away. And left her bereft.

The blood pounded in her ears and she watched him, like a rabbit in headlights, mesmerized, as he increased the distance between their bodies. Gradually she began to feel the world again and with it the sounds of the birds overhead and the wind in the leaves and the thunder of her heart.

Levi forced himself away. God, she was beautiful. And luscious and so, so ripe for the taking. And he wanted her. There was no doubt about that, but what the hell was he doing? There was no future in this, just heartbreak for Sophie, and maybe even for him.

It was lucky this pool was cold, which would help, but even then he'd have to stay submerged till he had
himself under control. He nearly lost himself—both of them. It would only have taken another minute to pass the point of no return, and she was too innocent and trusting to realise.

He guessed he wasn't chivalrous.

He fisted his hands under the water and forced himself to calm. What had he been thinking? Fool. Of course, he hadn't been thinking—he'd been feeling, indulging in a daydream, or more like an erotic fantasy to play nymphs and satyrs in an oasis. A great way to say thank-you to the woman trying to save them all. But she'd looked so kissable with her satin skin and fine-boned shoulders that it made him ache like he hadn't ached for years. If he were honest, he'd wanted to kiss her since the night she'd come to Xanadu. Do more than kiss, and he'd very nearly had his way. She would have hated him. He would have hated himself.

 

The silence between them was broken only by the noisy budgerigar and his mate. Levi floated with his back to her while she climbed out, carefully, so as not to hurt her feet.

Sophie's hands shook, were stupidly clumsy as she wiped herself over with her shorts, and her lower limbs still wobbled as she redressed damply. Still in a daze from one kiss? A mouth-tingling caress like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

Sleazebag Brad had been practised, smooth and—now she could see—one dimensional, not like Levi, a
city marauder of devastating understatement and finesse.

She shivered, not with cold, but with new knowledge of greater danger. Where was the line between attraction and wanting to be lost in a man's arms and the terrible danger of falling in love? She knew how much pain that could cause.

Her damp shirt stuck to her bra and outlined her nipples and she pulled the material out from her body to air it. It would dry all too quickly when they crossed the next plain but it embarrassed her horribly at this moment. She settled herself facing the gorge they'd climbed and breathed slowly and carefully to regain her composure. She could do that.

Still she couldn't look to the pool at Levi. Her lips thrummed as if she'd just eaten a Kakadu plum. When, in fact, she'd tasted something much better.

The water splashed behind her and a muffled curse forced a reluctant smile. He'd stubbed his toe. Good. Take his mind off kissing her.

She dug in her bag and pulled out the chocolate bar. It bent in her hand, soft and squishy, and she looked at it with a sigh. Hot chocolate was good in winter, and even like this when you hadn't had anything to eat since a tart piece of fruit. Something to take her mind off other parts of her body. The paper ripped in her teeth and the first sweet taste oozed onto her tongue.

She sucked the wrapper as she considered their options. Anything not to think of the pool and what
passed between them. They'd cross the plain in the afternoon sun and hopefully find the camp before dark. That was the scary part. If they didn't…

B
Y TWO
they were on their way again and nothing was said of the kiss in the pool. The heat bit into Levi's shoulders through his shirt and the grass crunched drily under their feet. The plain stretched ahead of them in a seemingly endless roll with stunted trees and anthills their only shade.

Levi could feel the difference—the awareness between them had increased, the air vibrated and not just with heat from the sun. He'd caused this. Created her distress. He could regret implementing the kiss but not the kiss itself because there was something about that moment that said it had to be. But his stupid lack of control had caused her discomfort. He needed to find some way to lighten the strain between them. ‘So what's with the big anthills?'

She jumped when he spoke. He wished she wouldn't do that. Not for the first time wondered whoever that bloke was he'd like to have a go at him.

‘Termite mounds. Not anthills.'

He looked again. Termite mounds, then. Everywhere, from small bumps in the dirt to huge towers taller than a man. Even on the cliff faces when he looked.

More interesting than he expected. ‘So tell me about termites.'

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. ‘What makes you think I know?'

She had a cute pose. ‘You know everything.'

‘You are so full of—'

‘Ah-ah.' He shook his finger at her and cut her off. ‘So you don't know?'

She sighed. ‘Termites are blind.' She may pretend to be resigned but he saw the lessening of tension in her and it made him feel good about himself. Strange.

She went on and he smiled at the way she loved to explain things. It was one of those little things he'd grown to recognise and like about her. The passion for her world. He didn't see a lot of passion where he'd come from. Just day-in, day-out twelve-hour days. Certainly he hadn't exhibited any for a while, probably not for a couple of years. Well, not that kind anyway.

‘Termites are opaque and the workers can live for thirty years.' She gave him a tentative smile. ‘The queen can live eighty years.'

Nice smile. ‘That'd be right. Poor man doing all the work.' He gestured to the adult-size tower of dirt. ‘So what are these made of?'

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Mounds are made with saliva, spinifex, mud and termite poo, and they grow at a rate of about one foot every ten years.' She pointed to a mound that was broken. ‘You can tell when they're abandoned because an active mound that's broken is repaired very quickly.'

He whistled and patted a six-foot mound they were passing. ‘There're a lot of years here.'

She paused and looked around with that passion shining from her eyes. ‘The story of the Kimberleys—lots of years. This whole area is the product of erosion of a giant mountain range, the Leopold, millions of years ago. That's why the ground's so rocky.'

And why not much grew around here, he guessed. ‘So no bushrangers right out here in the past?'

‘Not so much bushrangers, not enough people to rob, but there's a story about an escapee who killed a policeman and hid the body inside a termite mound.'

The woman was a mine of scary information. ‘Don't tell me. The termites repaired the mound and he was never found.'

‘You got it.'

She made him smile. Suddenly, most of the time. Even through this disaster. ‘So I'd better not annoy you.'

She showed her teeth. ‘Or you'll never be found.'

Sophie had sealed what had happened between them at the pool like the termites sealed their mounds, but
she still felt embarrassed that she'd let him kiss her. She didn't have the headspace for the questions that had arisen from that kiss. She was focused now on getting home. Desperately.

She was doubly glad of his environmental interest because she could feel the fear build as the day lengthened. She'd been fairly confident this morning, and still sure they would find the camp at lunch, but this afternoon her water bottle emptied and conversation between them dried up like the sweat on their bodies, and she began to worry about their options.

She must have sighed because he looked across at her and touched her shoulder. ‘What's wrong?'

She stopped and unconsciously her hand came over the top of his for comfort. ‘It's taking longer than I'd hoped.'

He turned her into his chest and moved so she was out of the sun behind his body—a different type of embrace than the last one she didn't want to think about—and she rested her forehead on him for a moment. His voice rumbled in his chest. ‘We'll find them, if not today, then tomorrow. If we don't, we know we can make it back to the others.'

Could they? She thought about how far they'd walked. Yes, they could. She could almost feel the strength transferring from him to her. His confidence boosted hers, probably unjustifiably, not that she wanted him to tell her otherwise. She had enough doubts for both of them.

Her stomach growled. ‘I don't know about you but I'm getting hungry,' she mumbled into his shirt.

‘Where's a drive-through Gubinge tree when you want one?' He kicked the ground. ‘There's always the grubs. Ten fat ones a day, did you say?'

She had to laugh. Or she'd cry. But she did feel better. Then he put her away from him and dug in his pocket. He held up his liquid chocolate bar. ‘I was saving this one for you.'

She shook her head vehemently. ‘I'm not eating your chocolate.'

‘Sure you are.' He pointed to the hills up ahead. ‘We'll stop there and fight about it.' Then he patted her hair and took her pack from her back and captured her fingers. ‘Let's go.' He pulled her fingers gently, and suddenly the strength came back along with her focus, and she walked beside him with their hands swinging together over the red earth.

She didn't know when it happened but suddenly she did trust him. Was happy to allow him to shoulder some of the burden, something so out of character for her she didn't understand how he'd achieved it. Especially after the kiss. Or was it because of the kiss?

They were close to the last foothills when the Aboriginal elder appeared. His wizened skin crinkled in mahogany folds and his grey hair hung long and straggled. Levi saw him standing beside a termite hill before Sophie did.

He carried a spear for hunting and little else.

Levi stopped suddenly when he saw him but Sophie kept going. ‘He wants us to follow him.'

Levi glanced across at her. ‘Guess you were right again.'

Sophie sighed with relief. Not before time. They were running out of afternoon. She'd done one thing right, then. ‘This was a good one to win.'

The elder took them to a side gully and presented them with another fresh pool to drink and cool themselves. He didn't speak and she watched Levi, with hidden amusement, as he attempted to sign their story but the old man just stared at him.

‘I doubt he's learnt English for the little use he'd have for it.' She handed him a stick. ‘Maybe if you drew a picture in the sand?'

Levi's sand helicopter left a lot to be desired but a broad grin from the elder seemed as though he'd figured where they'd come from. Levi drew four people and then pointed to himself and Sophie, indicating the other two were still at the helicopter.

The old man nodded, seriously, and pointed to the sun and then an arc in the sky to almost sunset, and gestured they follow him, and that they'd be able to get back to the others after that.

Sophie didn't know if it was her imagination, or just the relief, but the walking was less strenuous, more shaded, and yet seemed as though they covered more ground.

An hour before sunset they came to the camp, a col
lection of half a dozen lean-tos, with several brown-eyed, brown-skinned toddlers scuffling in the dust.

It was unusually quiet and a quorum of women seemed congregated around a lean-to at the end of the camp. The hair on Sophie's arms stood up. Something was wrong. She glanced at Levi, who raised his brows and shrugged. He could sense it too.

The oldest lady pointed to her. Sophie approached them diffidently, used to not catching the elder's eyes. The lady, probably the grandmother, pointed her finger at Sophie. ‘You that nurse, sheila, eh?' She gestured into the lean-to with her head.

Weariness swamped her and Sophie forced her head to lift as she glanced back at Levi. It seemed this day had more in store for her. Lord knew what she'd discover and it seemed she would soon find out.

He took a step to follow her. ‘Do you want me to come with you?' But the old lady gestured him away.

Sophie sighed. ‘Nice thought but it's not going to happen. I'd say it's secret women's business.' Sophie bent and followed the woman inside, and her heart bumped at the thought of the unknown and what might be expected of her.

The air inside the lean-to was stifling; the place seemed full of aunties and the grandmother. The young girl who lay on the dry grass bed looked more like a frightened rabbit than a woman about to give birth.

‘Oh, Lord,' Sophie muttered. The sight of one tiny baby's foot resting between the mother's legs was
enough to make Sophie feel like a frightened rabbit too. Footling breech, so the baby's legs would come out long before the head. If it all went well.

‘As it should,' she said out loud, to bolster her own conviction.

Of course a Caesarean section would be a nice option to have in the wings in case of complications, Sophie wished fruitlessly, but that wasn't going to happen. All she could think of was the mantra from her training—hands off the breech.

Then she saw the little foot move. So the baby was alive and the day improved enormously.

Now wasn't the time to ask why the girl wasn't near a hospital if she was close to birth time. Far too late for that. Sophie knew that sometimes the fear of being away from their families made the young women hide their pregnancies so they weren't sent away. But Sophie also knew the girl would be in trouble with the elders later.

She knelt down and tried for a smile, then tapped her own chest. ‘Sophie.'

The older lady pointed to the girl. ‘Pearl.'

‘Hello, Pearl,' Sophie said, but Pearl's frightened brown eyes skittered to the gaggle of aunties and refused to return. Sophie gestured for permission to feel the mother's abdomen and the grandmother shooed her on to the task as if to say hurry up.

Pearl's baby seemed smaller than term, which could be a good thing, or maybe it was just because it was
breech and a lot of the baby was already in the pelvis. Pearl was fine boned with no extra weight, and Sophie would love to have known how long the labour had been going on.

The next contraction arrived and Pearl screwed her face up and whimpered with the pain. Her baby's little foot descended another centimetre into the world.

At this moment there wasn't much Sophie could do except be there for the end. And pray. She couldn't listen to the baby's heartbeats because she didn't have any form of stethoscope. She didn't have gloves, nor could she even wash her hands, but she couldn't leave Pearl alone either.

Levi's support was denied because culturally Pearl's birthing was women's business and men were banned. Though, if she had a problem when the baby arrived, Sophie knew darn well she'd be yelling for Levi.

Just knowing he was there gave immense reassurance. She'd expect Levi's first-aid skills and common sense would help more than anyone else's.

She guessed that even if she'd some way to contact the Royal Flying Doctor Service the plane wouldn't be here before it was all over. So much for her brief respite from responsibility. There was nothing to be done but settle herself slightly more comfortably on the dusty floor and try to ignore the trickle of perspiration that ran down between her shoulder blades. She licked her lips and tasted the dryness of her mouth. A drink would have been good.

Sophie began to pray for a rapid second stage of labour but there was only so much praying she could do. She glanced around for something else positive to focus on and her gaze rested on a brown shawl she could dry the baby with when it was born. That was a positive thought. When it was born.

The aunties all looked at her as if she should do something and she tried to block out the thoughts that didn't help.

Thoughts about drugs, and oxygen, and paediatricians who may as well be on the moon. Hopefully the baby had grown well and wasn't too premature.

If the young mum had had no antenatal care, then she was probably anaemic to start with which increased her chance of bleeding afterwards, and any blood loss would make her dangerously depleted in red blood cells.

But there wasn't a lot Sophie could do about that either. She could rub the mum's tummy to encourage clamping down of the uterus when the placenta was delivered, and she could put the baby to the breast as soon as possible to release the natural hormones that were there to do the same thing.

Women had been birthing for thousands of years in the camps, she reassured herself, well before twentieth-century medicine had decreed they were safer at the hospitals. Trouble was now the elder women had lost their skills as attendants over the past hundred years.

She needed to think of more positives. At least the
heat would make it unlikely the baby would get cold, which breech babies tended to do as their bodies waited for the heads to be born.

For some reason she thought of Levi's Pollyanna comment and it steadied her because there was nothing wrong with looking on the bright side of things.

Pearl moaned again and this time the baby's ankle came down almost to the knee and suddenly there was a second foot. ‘You're doing great, Pearl.' Sophie plastered a happy face on and nodded her head at the frightened girl and her attendants. The least she could do was be supportive, instead of a harbinger of doom.

If the cervix was not fully opened, then Pearl was going to push against it anyway. If she sat up it would be easier for the baby and put even more pressure on the cervix. Sophie looked at the grandmother and gestured that they help Pearl to squat in a supported position.