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Cam

“She’s beautiful, Cameron. Won’t you just—?”

“I said no, Mum. I’ll hold her when Ducky wakes and not before. Mums and dads do that together.”

“But the doctors said—”

“I don’t give a good fuck what those idiots said! She’ll wake up. She has to,” I say, taking her hand back in mine.

The fall had caused Shaw to bleed and the baby to go into distress. We’d airlifted her to the nearest hospital and waited for the doctors to finally deliver a screaming, none too impressed, little girl who according to reports looked just like me but had a little bow mouth like her mum.

And then they’d told us that my girl had yet to wake and that she is in a coma. It’s been five days of sitting at her bedside and holding her hand and still nothing. No movement, sound, or even an eye twitch to tell us that she will eventually wake.

The whole family and the extended clan are all camped out in the waiting area, using influence and money to ensure use of bathrooms and the occasional bed. No one’s left yet, and I’m bloody grateful because I don’t think I could stand it if they gave up yet. Not yet.

“Cameron.”

“Mum, I said—”

“Well just shut up! I think that if we put a little love beside her…it might spur her to wake,” Mum says, casting another hopeless glance at my woman.

“Don’t do that; don’t look at her like that. Like you’re giving up.”

“I’m not, Cameron. I’m just trying not to go raving mad right now. You weren’t there; you didn’t see…God have mercy, the fear on her face, the desperation as she tried to right herself.”

I close my eyes and steel myself against the tears, as she plonks down beside me and sniffles into my shoulder.

“What if—?”

“Don’t say it. Please,” I say, my hand tightening around hers in a fierce grip that wills her to come back. “She can’t…I have so much to say to her. So many apologies to make.”

“And make them you will, Cameron lad. Now stop giving your poor mum grief and bloody move over. I have a little girl who’d like to meet her mum, and I won’t let it rest another day.”

I find myself grinning when Dad saunters in, the baby squirming in the crook of his arm as he stalks to the bed and bends to lay a gentle kiss on Shaw’s brow, directly over the yellowing bruise above her left eye.

“Come on and wake, Ducky, your daughter is dying to meet you, my darling.”

It’s a bittersweet moment when he unwraps the swaddled infant and places her on Shaw’s chest, his hand so gentle as he keeps the squirming bundle from wiggling off.

“Feel that, lovey? That’s your mum right there.”

The baby stops moving almost as if she understands and snuggles deeper into Shaw’s bust, her hands opening flat against the hospital gown.

“Oh, there you are. Of course, she smells right, love.”

When the baby starts rooting around and snuffling, he chuckles and gives me a pointed look.

“I think your daughter needs to feed, Cameron. Come along Margie, I need your help getting the others to go eat and take showers. The bloody lot of them look and smell like the undead.”

And just like that he steps away, forcing me to leap up and take the baby. I’m trembling as her weight settles into my chest and feel my eyes mist when she looks up at me blearily and blinks, her face taking on an expression that I swear is recognition when I breathe out a reverent hello.

“You recognize my voice, love?” I whisper, feeling myself settle for the first time in five days.

This, this tiny little scrap of perfection is mine. My daughter. My everlasting bond with the still woman lying asleep in the bed beside us. And if I have my way, she will be the first of many.

Oh, yes.

“Do you hear me, Ducky? This little love is only the first of the children we will have. So stop lazing about and open those beautiful eyes. Our daughter needs you. And so do I.”

No answer springs forth, and I sigh and do what Dad ordered. He’s right, lovey needs to feed, and I need to pull my bloody head out of my arse and make sure my woman wakes up to meet our child.

Being careful not to disturb anything I pull her gown to the side, exposing her breast and lay lovey over her chest, doing my best to guide her though it seems the tyke knows exactly what she’s doing.

She latches on as if she knows exactly what to do, and I cradle her with awe as she suckles at Shaw’s breast, her little eyes rolling back in bliss.

“That’s it lovey, wake Mum up. Let her know that we need her back.”

Shaw

I feel heavy and yet light at the same time. My brain is wrapped in cotton and feels muggy, like an overcast day just before a storm.

I’m confused, really confused, when I hear a rhythmic beeping somewhere to the side and feel a warm stroking over my face. There’s something there, something just on the periphery of my mind, but as soon as I try to focus and grasp it, I feel it float away and dissipate as if a puff of smoke.

“Come on, Ducky. That’s it baby, open your eyes.” I hear.

The caresses are feather light and gentle, so at odds with that urgent voice and the slight tremble I feel from the hands touching me. I know that voice. At least I think I do, but I can’t…

“She’s coming around.”

“That’s good Mr. Stone. The scans showed that the swelling has subsided, and we do not anticipate any complications, but like I warned you…”

I drift a little before a soft weight settles over my chest, and I smile, not quite knowing why. I feel, weird, out of sorts and just…detached when I finally manage to open my sticky eyes.

I see a man standing over me, his face so harshly beautiful and intense that I catch my breath at the smile that curves his thin lips.

“Hi, gorgeous. About time you woke up.”

“Why?”

His smile slips a little when I look down and frown. There’s a baby on my chest.

“Ducky.”

“Why are you calling me
Ducky
? My name’s Shaw. Shaw Mallory. Where am I? Was I in an accident? I told Linda we should have taken a freaking cab,” I mutter, looking back down at the kid snuffling at my boob, her little bow-shaped mouth screwing up when she gets nothing but hospital gown and air.

“Er, is this your baby? How did I get here? Could you call Alec?”

My mind is abuzz, skipping from one thing to the next, and I feel so panicked. I feel my lungs squeeze tight, strangling my choppy breaths in my chest.

“Baby, ssh, no don’t panic, Ducky. Just take a deep breath and I’ll explain everything. Jesus. Just…just, can you hold the baby for a minute? I need to…”

Her settles the squiggly bundle into my arms and paces to the door before turning and coming back, his mouth hitting mine in a gentle kiss before pulling back and meeting my gaze.

“Everything will be just fine, baby. I swear. Just hold lovey for a minute while I go…I’ll be back in a tick.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me with the baby and a whole lot of awkward terror. I don’t move, sitting frozen the whole time while that pink little cherub snuggles deeper into my chest and closes her eyes, her face the picture of innocent bliss.

Something, I feel something hammering at the edges of my mind, and the terror from moments before returns so forcefully I feel myself tremble as a muted cry and tears spill free.

There’s something I need to do, say…something important that I have to tell…whom? I can’t remember, and each time I try to remember, I feel the answer floating farther away, slipping from my grasp. I feel so anxious and urgent that it’s all I can do to keep the baby clutched tightly in my arms, her slight weight and baby smell managing to calm and settle me somehow.

“Hello, little girl. Aren’t you a cutie pie. What’s your name, huh? Won’t tell me?” I ask, stroking a finger over her baby soft cheek. “How about I call you…Angel. Yeah, you look like you could be an angel. Maybe an Angelica? Or an Angelique?”

I spend long minutes talking to her and tracing her features, and the longer I do, the more I feel the urgency settle and fade away. I may not know how I ended up in a hospital bed, or why a devastatingly handsome stranger was standing over me and handing me his child, but right now I don’t care.

I feel better than I have since my mind came back to life, and for some strange reason, I feel a kinship with the snuffling snoring baby, drooling all over my breast.

Long minutes pass before I become aware of a tingling sensation and look up to see him in the doorway, his blue eyes sparking with something I can’t define.

Jesus, this guy really is hot. Is he married? Must be since this is his kid, no denying. Her little nose promises to be just as straight and regal as his own, and I see the same jaw and eye shape.

Too bad, because I could really go for losing my innocence to a guy this perfect. Unfortunately, I’m probably destined to go back to my dorm and the hours of studying—

“Where’s Linda? Is she okay? God, we really shouldn’t have been driving after she drank so much, but she wouldn’t listen. Did you call Al…no wait, he’ll just worry. This baby is really cute. Why are you in my room?”

My mind is whirling a mile a minute, and I feel that same urgency hit me again. When he steps in and reaches for Angel, I snarl and turn away, cradling the little head tighter to my chest.

God, why are my boobs so sore?

“Er, could you call a nurse please?”

Something warm and fluid is running down my chest, and I cringe, almost freaking at the thought of blood—

“Shaw, please calm down and pass me the baby.”

Oh! I don’t want to but…it’s his child. I have no right.

“I, can I hold her just a little longer? She’s so warm, and I, I feel less afraid with her here. Please!” I beg, leaning in to smell her dark hair before placing a soft kiss there.

“Shaw, I—”

“No, you’re right. You should take her. I think my stitches must have ripped, and I don’t want her getting bloody.” I sigh, placing Angel in his arms. “Would you call the nurse?”

I look down at my chest and frown in confusion when I see a wet stain across my left breast, no red in sight.

“What the heck?”

Not caring about modesty, I pull the gown away a little and look down, choking on a gasp at what I see. A milky fluid is pouring from…my nipple?

“Uh, I think something’s wrong. I…uh…I need a doctor. I…what the hell?”

When I look up, it’s to see him closing his eyes and breathing deeply before reopening them to focus on me.

“You’re breasts are leaking milk, Shaw. Milk that is meant to feed your daughter. Our daughter.”

I pass out because it’s all too much to take in without freaking the hell out. I’m twenty years old! How the heck can I have a kid? And that man? He’s mine?

Cam

“I had to tell her! She was hyperventilating.”

I’m yelling at the doctor, fully aware that the poor man is probably right and not to blame for the terror I am currently feeling, but I need to vent so desperately that it’s all I can do not to start howling my outrage at the world.

My Ducky has no memory of me, lovey, Rob, Mum, Dad…she remembers nothing past the night of her twentieth birthday when she and that college chum of hers had gone drinking and then gotten into a car.

They’d ended up scraping the thing on the side of a hydrant that night, but had been no worse off for the escapade and had likely only massive hangovers as a reminder.

Bottom line?
Shaw has some sort of amnesia thanks to her head striking one of the stairs when she’d fallen, and the doctors have no idea when she’ll regain her memory. If she ever does.

Instinctively, some part of her knows that the baby is hers; she hasn’t relinquished the kid since reawakening and pinning us with a terrified owlish blink, and I’d even watched her nurse beneath a towel, her face softening in awe.

Now they’re telling me that it might be a good idea to let her go back to America while her mind heals.
Not fucking likely! Never.
She already thinks that we’re married and that I am her adoring husband. We might as well just…plonk along as best we can for the time being.

It also has the added benefit of allowing me to get to know her and to allow her to get to know the me that I should have shown her from the beginning.

If she never regains her memory, it wouldn’t matter. I’ll just love her exactly as I should have all those months, and hope she comes to feel the same.

“You have to understand, Mr. Stone. Her mind is fragile. If you push too hard, it could set her back,” the doctor says, shaking his head wearily. “Unfortunately, we can’t say why her memory is gone. Her injury is not one that would lead to amnesia. All we can surmise is that the shock of falling in her condition must have been so great she sought comfort in forgetting.”

Because I know her, I understand why that can be so. Shaw is a loving, fiercely protective woman. If she’d thought in that split second of falling that she would lose the baby, I have no doubt that she would have retreated as far and fast as her mind would let her.

I just need to find a way to get her back.

I’ll still cherish her for the rest of my days even if she never remembers, but I need to at least try so that I can grovel the way I need to. She needs to know how sorry I am for everything. And then I need to prove to her that I am a good bet. That I can make her happy in every aspect of our lives together. Not just in bed.

“She knows that Angelica is hers, and she thinks I’m her husband. We’ll go from there and hope for the best.”

God, I love that name
. Seems Shaw had named our darling even not knowing that she was hers.

“As you wish. Just do not
under any circumstances
leave her alone. She needs reassurance especially if you’re taking her home to a place she doesn’t recognize.”

“Trust me, I will be glued to her side at all times.”

“But your company—?”

I turn to Mum and Dad and shake my head.

“Trey can take over for the foreseeable future. Ducky needs me now, and I won’t let anything take me from her. The company be damned.”

I understand their shock. I’ve spent ten years building it and would never have once thought to let a woman interfere with my responsibilities, but for her…nothing is more important to me now. Not after watching her half bleed to death at the bottom of those stairs.

Another ten minutes are spent letting the doctor know how little of a damn I give about his opinions before we leave his office and start walking back to my darlings.

“There’s still the matter of who pushed her,” Dad finally says, his face going hard as stone.

“No worries. Kent assured me that he and the cousins will find the culprit. Until then, no one will step into the house unless they’re family.”

“Right. I’ve already spoken to Millie, and she and Molly will be down in a week or so after we’re settled,” Mum says, sighing tiredly. “I want to know who did this, Cameron. And I would like to be there when you and the lads ‘speak’ to that person.”

So bloodthirsty.

“Dad, talk to your wife.”

I don’t have time to talk Mum back off the ledge of vengeance that she’s perched on right now. If left unattended, the woman will start sniffing around like a bloodhound, and there’s no telling what she will do if she ever finds the person responsible.

She’s a lady, but I’ve seen her angered, and believe me, when that happens, the lass from Blackpool comes up swinging and ready to fight to the death.

“Oh no. Sorry lad, but I married a woman who knows her way around a good fight. I like my balls just where they are thanks. Now stop scowling and smile. You’ll scare Ducky bloody half to death the way you look right now.”

I obey, but only just and smile wider when we enter the room to find her pacing slowly, Angelica mewling contentedly as she hums softly to her.

“You ready then, baby?”

I’ve been using any and all endearments lately in the hopes that she’ll feel more secure with me the more I show her this easy affection. It’s working by the looks of her radiant smile, and I feel another piece of my heart break off and land at her feet.

“Yup. Angel had breakfast, and now she’s just about ready for a nap. Have you called Alec yet?”

She keeps asking, and I keep putting her off because I’m afraid that if her brother comes over he’ll somehow convince her to go home with him and
that
I can’t have. I also don’t want him telling her the truth about Angelica’s parentage because it gives me the sweats just thinking that she’d take my daughter and I will never see any of them again.

“Yeah. He’s out of town on an internship at present, and I know how leery you are of disturbing his studies, baby. Don’t worry. As soon as he’s free, I’ll get him over for a visit.”

That does the trick, as always, and I release a sigh when she smiles at Mum and Dad and starts chattering about Angelica.

“You ready to go home, baby?”

Her smile is bright enough to light up the room when she turns to me and nods. “Yeah. Home.”

Is it too early to tell her that my home is now hers and the little bundle cradled to her heart? I want to say it so badly, and yet I’m unable as her eyes take me in, devoid of her previous fire and unshakable shyness.

I want my woman back.