Willow wondered if the girl's fluttering eyelashes and bold smile had registered on Morgan, but gratifyingly she rather thought not. He'd been equally oblivious to other women's interested glances in the past too, although she'd found them irritating to say the least.
She forgot about the nurse when she walked into Beth's room, knowing she'd never forget the look on her sister's face when Beth saw her. She spent the next little while between contractions assuring Beth that of course the baby was fine and lots came early, and were happy and healthy; praying inwardly all the time it was true. Beth would never forgive herself if things went wrong.
As time went on the contractions got stronger and the minutes between them less, but Beth wouldn't hear of her leaving. It was another three hours before the baby was born. It was a boy and he was a good weight, his lusty lungs proclaiming all was well as he bellowed his way into the world.
Willow was misty-eyed and Peter was crying unashamedly, but Beth was radiant as the nurse put the baby into her arms. 'This is David Peter,' she said, glancing at Willow who nodded her understanding. David had been their father's name. As Beth glanced towards the window, she seemed to realise it was snowing for the first time. 'How did you get here?' she asked. 'You didn't drive in this, did you?'
Willow smiled at her sister. 'I came courtesy of Morgan's white horse, although it was the four by four this time, not the Harley.'
It was totally against hospital rules, the nurse murmured a little while later after she had been to see the sister, but what with the storm and all everything was topsy-turvy tonight. If Mr Wright only stayed for a minute or two the sister would turn a blind eye this once. Beth nodded and assured the nurse sixty seconds would do it. 'Go and fetch him,' she said to Willow after the nurse had left. 'I want him to feel included in this; but for him you wouldn't have got here tonight.'
It was more than that and they both knew it. Willow hugged her sister. 'I love you,' she whispered softly, marvelling at how her world-which had seemed so disastrously out of kilter when she had stumbled through the snow to Morgan's house earlier-was righting itself. If she had the courage of her convictions, that was.
The waiting room was in semi-darkness when she reached it, the subdued lighting presumably so that its occupants could grab a little sleep if they needed it. It had worked with Morgan anyway.
Willow tiptoed in. How he had managed to fall asleep on one of the so-called 'comfy' chairs in the waiting room she didn't know. The wooden arms and plastic stretched tight over lumpy stuffing would have kept a sleeping-sicknesssufferer awake. But he was dead to the world, his long legs stretched out at an impossible angle and his head draped over the back of the chair.
It was the first time she had been able to study his face without fear of those piercing eyes arresting her. He looked exhausted. Her gaze stroked over the tough masculine features. But younger, more susceptible than when he was awake. How couldn't she have seen his vulnerability before?
Because she had been too hung up on the past to look beyond herself and her own feelings.
The truth was uncomfortable but then it often was. When he had spoken of his childhood and youth she hadn't pressed him for details, telling herself it was probably too painful for him to share. But that had been an excuse. She had been frightened of learning anything that would endear him further to her. The experiences he had gone through as a boy had shaped him into the complicated and enigmatic man he was today, that was for sure, but he had a capacity for love and tenderness she couldn't ignore any longer. She couldn't let him slip through her fingers.
She had to tell him how she felt and trust she hadn't ruined everything. She nodded to the thought, ignoring the panic that accompanied it. She owed him that at least.
Willow knelt down beside the chair, drinking in the sight and scent of him. He'd discarded the thick leather jacket he'd worn in the car and his sweater did little to disguise the width of his chest and muscled strength of his shoulders. His hair had got damp as they'd walked and now it curled slightly over his forehead, accentuating the suggestion of boyishness. He was a man of contradictions, impossible to fathom.
'Morgan?' She touched his arm gently, her voice little more than a whisper. 'Morgan, wake up. It's me, Willow.'
His eyelids flickered and opened slowly but he didn't move. His voice so low she could barely make out the words, he murmured, 'I was dreaming of you.'
'A good dream?' she whispered, loving him so much it hurt.
His eyes seemed bluer than she'd ever seen them before and the faint lines radiating from their corners crinkled as he smiled. 'X-rated.'
It was probably unfair to take advantage of him when he was still half asleep, but it was now or never. 'I lied to you this afternoon,' she said softly. 'I do love you. I love you like I never thought it was possible to love anyone and I've known it for a while. Can-can you forgive me?'
He didn't move, not a muscle. For what seemed an endless moment he stared at her, his face unreadable.
Willow stared back, equally immobile, holding her breath as her heart thudded so hard she was sure he must be able to hear it. Let it be all right, she prayed. Please let it be all right.
And then, as though lit from within, the hard rugged features melted in a smile that was beautiful. He opened his arms as he sat up in the chair and she scrambled into them, tilting her head back for his kiss, her mouth as hungry as his.
'I love you, I do, I do,' she murmured feverishly between kisses. 'And I'm so sorry I hurt you. I hated myself this afternoon but I was so scared, Morgan. I still am scared. I can't help it.'
'And you think I'm not?' he murmured against her lips. 'Sweetheart, this frightens me to the core. My life was all mapped out and I was doing very nicely until you came along and blew me out of the water.'
'Did I?'
'Did you what?'
'Blow you out of the water.'
'Oh, baby, did you ever.'
They kissed again, straining together in an agony of need and murmuring incoherent words of love until a sound in the corridor outside brought them back to earth. Raising his head reluctantly, Morgan said softly, 'Beth? How is she?'
'She's fine, the baby too. They've got a little boy and you're allowed to see him, just for a minute. You're not supposed to but Beth got special permission.'
'Special permission, eh?' He kissed her nose, his voice teasing to disguise the gratification he felt at being included. 'This is pure you, you know,' he said tenderly, 'finally telling me you love me in a hospital waiting room with a blizzard outside and your sister just having given birth. It should have been over an intimate meal for two with wine and candles and guitars throbbing in the background.'
Willow giggled. 'You told me you loved me in the middle of a freezing cold ploughed field when we were having a row,' she reminded him.
'Oh, boy, do we have a lot to make up for … ' He took her face in his big hands, smiling shakily as he murmured, 'But in for a penny, in for a pound. This should be done with music and a ring to hand and me on one knee but I have to know. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife, to have and to hold for ever?'
Somewhere outside their room a bell was being rung impatiently; someone was clattering along with what sounded like a trolley in the corridor and the odd baby or two were crying in the background. The smell of antiseptic was strong along with that faint odour peculiar to all hospitals, which was impossible to pin down. Willow thought she had never been in such a perfect place. 'Yes,' she said, taking his lips in a kiss that was fierce. 'Yes, yes, yes.'
Beth's squeal of delight brought the nurse running when Willow gave her sister the news after she and Morgan had held David Peter for a moment or two. For such a big man, Morgan had held the tiny infant with a tender delicacy that had wrenched her heart. She'd had a vision of the future, of Morgan cradling their own baby with the same sweet gentleness, and it had reduced her to tears. Not that it mattered. Tears and smiles and laughter were flowing with abandon and had infected everyone with the same weakness.
By the time she and Morgan returned to the waiting room Willow felt dizzy with happiness. That and tiredness. It was now gone three in the morning. She felt ridiculously hungry too but the hospital restaurant and café didn't open for breakfast for another five hours. Morgan found a snack machine and returned with crisps, chocolate bars and two paper cups holding a murky brown liquid that purported to be hot chocolate.