Surprise Baby For The Heir

From perfect strangers…

To mommy and daddy!

One night with a gorgeous stranger is the perfect distraction for Elspeth from the happy-ever-after that will never be hers. The trainee doctor and carer has no room in her life for romance, until a surprise pregnancy catapults her back into Fraser’s world… She soon discovers that the man whose touch she can’t forget is a laird and the baby she’s carrying is heir to a Scottish castle!

ELLIE DARKINS spent her formative years devouring romance novels and, after completing her English degree, decided to make a living from her love of books. As a writer and editor she finds her work now entails dreaming up romantic proposals, hot dates with alpha males and trips to the past with dashing heroes. When she’s not working she can usually be found running around after her toddler, volunteering at her local library or escaping all of the above with a good book and a vanilla latte.

Also by Ellie Darkins

Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss

Bound by a Baby Bump

Newborn on Her Doorstep

Holiday with the Mystery Italian

Falling for the Rebel Princess

Conveniently Engaged to the Boss

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Surprise Baby for the Heir

Ellie Darkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09071-1

SURPRISE BABY FOR THE HEIR

© 2019 Ellie Darkins

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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For Tess

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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 THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

‘SO, WHO DO YOU HATE? The bride or the groom?’

Elspeth frowned at the sound of the stranger’s voice behind her. She turned to look and realised that she’d noticed this guy earlier. How could she not? Even among the sea of tartan and kilts he stood out. He was taller and broader than most of the other men filling the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh, and his red hair had obviously been dragged into some sort of order at the start of the day but had been progressively rebelling ever since.

With her mouth open to tell him to leave, Elspeth realised that the man was already pulling up a chair to sit beside her, man-spreading with a confidence that showed just how comfortable he was in a skirt.

‘Neither, of course,’ she said, faking a smile, conscious that she was only at this wedding for appearances’ sake, and clearly not doing a good enough job of keeping up the appearance of wedding joy.

‘Then why do you look upset?’ her new friend asked, looking at her astutely.

‘Maybe I just have one of those sad faces.’

She wasn’t sure why she’d answered him, given that it wasn’t actually any of his business. She’d been wearing her best corporate fake smile for the best part of six hours, through the most ironically torturous day of her life. What was it to this guy if she’d let it slip for three minutes while everyone else had eyes on the bride and groom’s first dance.

‘Long story,’ she added with a sigh.

She wondered briefly why she hadn’t just shut the conversation down, as she’d originally intended. Perhaps something about the scene playing out in front of her was making her sappy. Or perhaps it was today’s date—the one she’d inked into her diary with a simple ‘my wedding’. Or the fact that this was the venue that she’d booked for her own nuptials. And the flowers were the ones that she’d chosen, and the food was the exact menu she’d tasted for the first time a little under a year ago.

In fact, the whole day had been the wedding that she’d spent a year planning and then had been faced with dismantling when she had split with her fiancé with just six months to go before their big day.

She remembered coming into the office the morning after they’d called it all off, eyes red and skin tight from lack of sleep, to find her boss, Janet, proudly showing off a diamond ring. And it had seemed that before she knew what was happening her boss was offering to take over all Elspeth’s reservations, saving her from losing the deposits, so that she could have a whirlwind wedding.

She’d turned it into more of a circus than Elspeth had intended, of course, chucking in a hundred extra guests and adding a few zeroes to the budget. But her own wedding had been visible enough to sting throughout the day, like little brushes of nettles against her bare arms everywhere she turned.

She couldn’t make herself regret it, though—the cancellation of her wedding or agreeing to the takeover. It made financial sense. Elspeth couldn’t afford to lose the money, so she’d gone along with it, happily in denial about the whole thing until the invitation had arrived and she’d realised that she was expected to attend.

If she hadn’t needed to impress everyone at the GP practice in order to be offered a permanent role when her training post ended she wouldn’t be here. But she needed financial security, and that meant turning up, smiling, and making sure her boss never saw how much she was hating this.

Turned out she’d been doing such a shoddy job that a complete stranger had already rumbled her.

Elspeth took solace in the fact that on her wedding day Janet was hardly going to be paying her much attention. As long as Elspeth appeared in the photos and was mentioned in the inevitable office chat about the event on Monday morning it would hopefully be enough.

But for now she should really get rid of this man. The last thing her misery needed today was company. She just had to get through watching the first dance, and the cutting of her cake, and then she could go home.

A stiff drink was the answer.

She stood and headed to the bar, wondering whether he would follow her. The sensible part of her—the part of her she usually left in charge—hoped that he wouldn’t. That she could just drown her sorrows in private. But there was something about the mischief in his eyes, something promising trouble, that had her intrigued. That made her want to ignore the part of her brain that had kept her together and her fear at bay for as long as she could remember.

‘So, if you don’t hate either of them, what’s this long story about?’

Elspeth’s stomach swooped at the soft sound of his voice behind her, his presence by her shoulder making her skin tingle in awareness. That answered her question, then. She’d been hoping for more of him.

‘I’m not sure I want talk about it,’ she said, lifting one of the flutes of champagne laid out on trays on the bar and taking a long sip as she turned to him.

He gave her an easy, relaxed smile, grabbing a glass for himself before leaning back against the bar. ‘Well, will you at least let me try and distract you from it?’

Any way he wanted.

Wow, when her mind went there, it really went for it, she realised, as a host of ideas for how they could distract one another flooded her consciousness.

She studied him closely over the rim of her glass. ‘Why would I do that?’

Just because her body was telling her in no uncertain terms what she wanted, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with this.

He was still leaning against the bar, the picture of casual insouciance. ‘How about because I’m also here under duress. I hate weddings—and I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t. I thought having an accomplice might be fun.’

Elspeth narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. Really, the only thing she wanted was to get out of here. But, as she couldn’t do that until the formalities were out of the way, perhaps this would pass the time. And then there was the fact that her eyes kept being drawn to the calves exposed beneath his kilt, and to the way his hair was determinedly escaping whatever order it had been dragged into earlier. And the way those green eyes watched her, promising trouble if she wanted it.

‘An accomplice? What exactly are you planning?’ she asked. ‘I could do without being arrested, so if we can keep it just this side of legal… But go for it. Do your worst.’

‘In that case, would you like to dance?’

Elspeth glanced over her shoulder at the dance floor to see that it was filling with guests, joining the bride and groom, who were still wrapped around one another in the centre of the floor.

She laughed. ‘That’s it? That’s your grand plan to distract me from my misery? Dancing in that syrupy mass?’

His eyes flicked to follow her gaze. ‘Fair point. What about we cause a diversion, sneak something from the bar and go explore the gardens instead?’

Elspeth glanced around her and realised the bar was unattended and all eyes were still on the bride and groom on the dance floor. With a quick grin at her accomplice, she reached casually across the bar and snagged a bottle of champagne by the neck, then twisted her arm to hide it behind her back.

‘Okay, so you really went for it. Good for you. I’m Fraser, by the way. I think we should probably be on first-name terms if we’re embarking on a crime spree together.’

She widened her eyes at him in mock innocence. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re referring to. But I think I need some fresh air. Care to join me?’

Elspeth felt a shiver as Fraser draped an arm around her shoulder and tried not to think what anyone watching might be thinking. Maybe it was better that they thought they were sneaking out for a quickie or a snog, than realising that she was sneaking away with a very nice bottle of champagne.

He was using his body to shield the bottle from view, she reminded herself as her own body warmed beneath his touch. That was the only reason for him to be standing so close that it was making the hairs on her arms prickle.

Elspeth stepped out onto the decking and wrapped her arms around herself as the chill of the Scottish evening hit her.

Fraser grabbed a blanket from a pile that had been left in a basket by the door and draped it around her shoulders. She looked up and met his eyes, and only then realised how close they were. The sun was hitting the horizon behind him, making the light on the deck golden and glowing.

At her wedding they’d have been having photos taken now, she remembered. Her ex-fiancé, Alex, was a keen amateur photographer, and had scheduled a number of photography sessions into their day.

She shook off the memory of Alex, and the hurt on his face when she’d finally called time on their engagement. By then he’d known as well as she had that a marriage between them would never work. He’d wanted her to choose. To put him at the top of her priorities, even above her family.

But she was the one who’d actually ended it. Who had said that the compromises he wanted from her weren’t going to happen. That she couldn’t let anyone else take care of her family. That if he wanted to be with her he would have to accept that he would have to share her.

She took a step back from Fraser, breaking the connection between them and walking out across the deck.

‘So, do you want to tell me this long story?’ Fraser asked, following behind her.

‘I thought you were meant to be cheering me up,’ she replied, turning and looking over her shoulder as she reached the railing, leaning on it and looking out over the botanic gardens. ‘Trust me, talking about things isn’t going to be cheery for either of us.’

‘Ah, but we have this to help us,’ Fraser said, slipping an arm beneath the thick woollen blanket he’d wrapped around her and taking the bottle.

He ripped the foil from the neck of the bottle and started untwisting the wire cage around the cork.

Elspeth eyed the bottle. ‘We’ll need more than that.’

Fraser lifted an eyebrow as he twisted the cork, then pressed his thumbs beneath it. ‘Sounds ominous.’

‘Well, let’s just say that today has come with a massive sense of déjà vu. Or future vu, or something weird like that.’

‘You had a vision that you’d be stealing champagne from a free bar with a stranger in a kilt?’

She grinned involuntarily. ‘Yes, this is what I planned for my Saturday night. Attending my own wedding as a guest and stealing the booze.’

‘Your wedding?’

Elspeth let out an ironic laugh, wishing her tongue wasn’t so easily loosened by alcohol. God, maybe she should just say it. Burying it and pretending these feelings didn’t exist wasn’t making the day bearable. Time to try something different.

‘I was meant to be getting married today.’

She stated it baldly, with as little emotion as she could manage, but even she could hear the waver in her voice. Fortunately the cork popped out of the bottle with perfect comic timing, and Fraser directed the spilling white foam into her glass.

‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that,’ he said, slightly flustered, in the classic manner of a man who has just been hit by an emotional confession he hadn’t expected. ‘Quick—drink,’ he added, as the bubbles reached the top of the glass and threatened to spill over.

Elspeth drank, seeing no better course of action, and spluttered slightly at the tickle of the exploding bubbles in her nose. She laughed, fully out loud this time—the first genuine laugh she’d managed all day.

Correlation wasn’t causation, and all that, but maybe Fraser was on to something, encouraging her to talk about what was going on. She did feel a little better. A willing ear from a stranger could be as good as therapy—and cheaper.

‘I was meant to be getting married here, actually,’ she went on. ‘I called it off a few months ago and the day after my boss got engaged. She offered to take over my reservations…save me losing my deposits.’

‘Wow,’ Fraser said, holding the champagne bottle hovering just above his glass, frozen in the second of pouring.

‘You said that already,’ Elspeth remarked, raising her brows as she took another sip of wine, enjoying having him on the back foot.

He had been so cocksure, swaggering up to her, asking her to dance, suggesting they get into trouble together. It felt good to turn the tables: see him lost for words.

‘And you decided you wanted to come because…what? You’re a sadist?’

‘I think that would make me a masochist, actually.’ She dropped the word casually, as if her sudden thought of kinky sex with this gorgeous stranger had had absolutely zero effect on her heart rate. ‘And, no, sorry to disappoint, if that’s your thing, but I’m here because the bride is my boss and I was invited.’

He nodded sagely, thankfully not acknowledging her veiled question about his sexual kinks. She wasn’t sure it would be good for her to hear exactly what he was into in the bedroom. Her mind was having plenty of fun making up the details by itself.

‘Some big promotion in the offing?’ Fraser asked, and it took Elspeth a moment to remember what he was talking about.

She took a sip of her drink and nodded. ‘Something like that.’

‘You’re a doctor?’ he said, after clearly searching through his memory banks for the bride’s profession.

‘A GP, yes. Well, a trainee, and hoping for a job when I finish.’

‘Why did you want to be a doctor?’

Elspeth couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked her that. And she didn’t have a good answer. To her, it had never seemed like a choice. All she knew was that it had been a decision made long before she had chosen her exam subjects as a teenager. Probably around the time she had been sitting by her baby sister’s bedside, incapable of doing anything that could help her other than sit there.

She’d trained as a doctor because she wanted to help people like Sarah. Be their advocate in the healthcare system and ensure that every single one of them got the best outcome that they could. Because she had seen the miracles the medical profession could perform. Keeping her sister alive, getting her home, giving her independence with an electric wheelchair and communication aids, among the million other ways it had helped her over the years.

And now Elspeth had the skills and the knowledge she hadn’t had when Sarah was a baby, which meant she could be cared for by her family rather than by strangers. But her care responsibilities meant careful planning for the future, especially given that her mum had been in her forties when Sarah had been born, had arthritis herself, and wasn’t going to be mobile, or even around, for ever.

But that was way more detail than anyone needed to know—especially dangerous-looking men in kilts brandishing bottles of champagne.

‘I liked science and I wanted to help people,’ Elspeth said, giving the standard medical school application answer.

It wasn’t really much of an explanation, but it was all he would be getting. She had watched her relationship with Alex dissolve around her because he hadn’t been able to reconcile family and romance, but she had no desire to go into the details. Perhaps talking about this wasn’t the good idea she’d thought it might be.

‘Anyway,’ she said, keen to change the topic of conversation and shift the attention away from her sorry tale. ‘That’s my story. What’s yours? Why are you here if it’s so tortuous?’

Fraser shrugged as he leant his forearms against the railing, surveying the gardens in front of them. ‘Nothing so exciting—just family duty. The groom is my mum’s cousin. My mother insisted I be dragged into groomsman duty to make up the numbers even though I hardly know the guy.’

‘Ah, a mummy’s boy,’ Elspeth said with a smile, echoing Fraser’s knowing tone from earlier. ‘Interesting…’

Fraser bumped her shoulder with his and Elspeth held her hands up.

‘Hey, if it sounds like a duck, looks like a duck, and does what Mama Duck says…’

‘Enough—drink your wine,’ he said with a laugh, topping up her glass again. ‘I did not lure you out here to talk about my mother.’

‘Now, that sounds interesting.’

Elspeth looked up at him, pulling the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, hyper-aware of the scratch of the fabric on her shoulders, the earthy smell of the wool, the barrier it put between her and Fraser.

‘I’m not sure I remember being lured, as such. But what were your motivations if you weren’t thinking about introducing me to your mother?’

Oh, she was sure that asking that question was going to get her into trouble. But that twinkle in his eye, the way he challenged her with his stare, egging her on, had tweaked at something inside her. She wanted to play.

He smiled back at that slight suggestion of innuendo, and she knew that she was right. She’d just got herself into trouble and she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry about it.

‘So you’re saying you’re not the kind of girl I want to take home to meet the parents, huh? Well, that’s good to know. I thought we were going to explore out here. Wasn’t that the plan?’

Elspeth drained her glass and gestured towards the steps down from the decking. ‘Lead on. Where do you want to look first?’

They wandered through the gardens, their shadows long over the lawns, until they came across a gathering of redwood trees: Californian giants, hundreds of feet tall. Beneath their shade, the light was lost completely, and Elspeth realised what a secluded spot they had found.

She leant back against the trunk of one of the trees, feeling small, humbled by the scale of them. As Fraser approached, still swinging the bottle by his side, Elspeth held up her glass like a shield, suddenly aware of the intimacy of their surroundings, how her attraction to Fraser had been bubbling under the surface of their banter since he had first approached her, and how he was looking at her now, like the wolf in a fairy tale.

But she was no innocent Red Riding Hood, and she had no plans to run or hide.

‘Do you think we’ve missed them cutting the cake?’ Elspeth asked, breaking the tension, wondering whether they’d come too far to take their conversation back to something inane and safe.

‘I’m not sure.’ Fraser came closer, topping up her glass, then closer still, so she wouldn’t have been able to lift it to her lips if she’d wanted to. The glass was trapped against her chest, along with her hands and her resolve. ‘Do you care?’

‘Not really.’ The words escaped her before she could stop them, but she couldn’t regret them. Not when they lit a spark in Fraser’s eyes that made the night seem a little less dark.