The Surgeon's Meant-To-Be Bride

‘THE papers, Gill.’

Dr Guillaume Remy had been enjoying the disconnected feeling of being outside his body, letting his mind drift through the silky tendrils of sexual limbo. In the strange world between slumber and wakefulness he could forget about the papers lying discarded on his floor and that the woman he loved no longer wanted to be with him.

There was only the wonderful haze of pleasure that reached deep into his bones, making him feel heavy and weightless all at the same time. A semi-conscious state halfway between arousal and satisfaction that he wished they could stay in for ever. He supposed this was the high that drug addicts craved and thanked his lucky stars he didn’t need to inject anything to attain it.

He just needed Harriet. Oh, sure, he was no novice. He’d had his share of women with whom he’d experienced sexual pleasure before his marriage, but Harry…it had never been like this with anyone but her. They were so perfectly in tune, so intimately in sync, that sex with her was an addiction he doubted he’d ever manage to control.

They’d been apart for a year but when she’d rejoined his team two months ago it had been as if their separation had never happened. The way she talked and the way she laughed and the way she moved and her smell were as familiar to him as breathing. The way she kissed him, caressed him, touched him was still the biggest thrill he had ever known.

‘Gill!’ Her voice broke into the fog floating through his brain. He half opened his eyes and watched her pulling on her clothes, hiding her body from him.

‘Come back to bed,’ he murmured.

There were few things on this earth better than a naked Harriet. Her body was superb…perfect. She had the body and grace of a ballerina. Naturally slender. Toned arms, thighs and calves, flat stomach, long legs, a perky bottom and pert breasts. Her olive skin was blemish-free and the small mole on her left hip was as fascinating today as it had been seven years ago when she had broken all her rules and slept with him after knowing him for three hours.

Her gorgeous wavy hair flowed like a river of molasses down the elegant arc of her back almost to the curve of her buttocks. He had spent many an hour combing his fingers through its heaviness. It was long enough that if she brought it forward over her shoulders it covered both breasts, mermaid-like.

He had a sudden vision of himself as a lust-struck sailor scooping her up from a rocky outcrop, hypnotised by her beauty, and making love to her on a beach as the waves crashed around them. He felt himself twitch and knew that he wanted her again.

‘Gill,’ she said again, and the note of exasperation in her voice brought him fully out of his fantasy.

Harriet blasted a glare at him that would have vaporised most men, but still he could feel his erection build. If anything, her crankiness was turning him on. He watched her as she realised what was happening to his uncovered anatomy and the look of hunger on her face had him completely ready.

‘Come back to bed,’ he repeated in a low growl, and he watched the widening of her eyes as temptation flitted across her features and she absently dug her teeth into her bottom lip.

‘You know you want to, Harry.’

He knew instantly he had said the wrong thing as he saw the battle end and a look of grim determination set her lips into a thin line.

‘For God’s sake,’ she snapped, ‘get dressed and sign the papers.’

Harriet turned her back to him and Gill knew that he had lost her. He sighed and got up, pulling his boxers on.

‘You can turn around now,’ he said, amused by the rigidity of her back and the way she was impatiently drumming her fingers against her folded arms.

Gill scooped the envelope off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed as Harriet faced him, her arms still folded. They stared at each other for a few moments, not saying anything.

‘So this is why you came back to the team after staying away for so long? So you could hand deliver these?’

She felt two spots of colour rise in her face and stain her cheeks. He made it sound so calculating. She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. She would not be shamed by him. ‘You’re surely not surprised by them?’

‘Well, actually, I am. I thought we were getting things back on track. For God’s sake, you’ve rarely been out of my bed.’

‘I came to try one last time, Gill. But we’ve resolved nothing.’

‘I love you, Harry. I don’t want a divorce. I didn’t want a separation. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.’

‘This isn’t about love, Gill, and you know it. We want different things.’

‘A baby.’ He sighed. They’d had this conversation about a thousand times in the year before Harriet had walked out.

‘Yes, Gill, a baby.’

Gill couldn’t think of anything worse if he tried. Except not being married to Harry. They had a great life. They were free to work where they wanted, live where they wanted, travel where they wanted. All with a backpack and a minute’s notice. They could make love all night and sleep in till lunchtime. Was there something so wrong with that?

He didn’t know a lot about babies but he did know that their lifestyle would have to change drastically. And they’d been having fun, hadn’t they? Travelling around the world with the charity organisation MedSurg Aid Abroad, living rough, working hard, changing lives, making a difference.

Seeing places and people and things, both good and bad, that few people ever got to experience in their lives. Touring the world while fulfilling their deep humanitarian beliefs. It was the ultimate lonely planet lifestyle and he didn’t want to give that up for nappies and 2 a.m. feeds.

But with the divorce papers in his hands, the reality of the situation was difficult to ignore. Did he really want to lose her over this? Maybe if he compromised?

‘Look, I’m not saying I don’t ever want a baby…maybe one day I’ll feel differently.’

‘I’m 35, Gill. I don’t have time to wait for you.’

Harriet could be very stubborn. She didn’t sugar-coat anything. If she felt it, she said it. ‘Are you sure? You’ve had a year, Harry. I don’t see you pregnant yet.’

He heard her swiftly indrawn breath and wished he could withdraw the words.

‘You think I could go off with someone else and have a baby while I’m still married to you? You don’t know me at all. Do you?’

So, he had made her angry—well, join the club. Her changing her mind about what she wanted from life had pissed him off, too. ‘Well, I thought I used to but, no, these days I don’t know you at all. What the hell happened to “No, Gill, I don’t want a baby, never, absolutely not, no way. Too many kids in this over-populated world anyway, Gill.” What happened to that? So don’t blame me if this sudden desire to have a baby makes me think that you’ll stoop to anything!’

‘You know damn well why the suddenness, Guillaume Remy!’ said Harriet, her voice a vicious whisper.

‘Because of Rose? Your little sister has a baby and suddenly your clock is ticking louder than a home-made bomb?’

‘Don’t be so bloody obtuse,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Yes, Rose started it—how could you not want a baby when you look into Tom’s beautiful chubby face? But if you can’t understand why discovering that I only have one ovary and Fallopian tube could knock me for six, maybe I don’t know you either. I’m sorry I changed the plot on you, but when a gynaecologist tells me I might have trouble conceiving, it comes as a bit of a shock. Surely you can see that?’

No, he couldn’t. He was a man. And not just that but a man who didn’t have a paternal bone in his body. Sure, babies were cute—Tom was very cute. But their appeal had more to do with being grateful he could hand them back than any pleasure he took from holding them.

He’d had a close call as a med student that had scared the hell out of him. There had been no feelings of joy or expectancy, just a horrible sinking feeling that his life was over. He’d carried that experience with him always and in his head babies always equalled the end of your life.

As a doctor he had a great deal of empathy for the plight of the world’s poor and starving children and those working like dogs from dusk to dawn and those torn apart by diseases, war and poverty. He admired their strength and resilience and he’d spent many years patching them up when they were hurt or wounded, caught up in adult wars, but he’d never had the desire to adopt any of them or, God forbid, have one of his own.

He had such a strong sense of social responsibility. There was so much he could offer this world. Having kids would just be a distraction from that purpose. His grandfather, who had fought with the French resistance before migrating to Australia after the war, had raised him to think of the plight of others and Gill had always felt immensely proud of the work he did.

But. He was holding his divorce papers in his hand. Before him stood the woman he loved. Who loved him. And she was asking him for something. Was prepared to never see him again, to cut all ties. Was he that strong? Did his career mean more to him than her? Did the world’s children mean more to him than the one she so desperately craved?

He sighed. Saying goodbye to Harriet for ever wasn’t possible. Being apart from her for a year had been hard, but part of him had felt at ease, unbothered, knowing that it was temporary. That Harriet would get over her problem and come back and they’d continue their lives. But divorce? She was serious.

‘Look, OK. You want a baby? All right, then, fine. Let’s have a baby.’

He didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t Harriet’s cool, sceptical gaze. He thought she’d leap into his arms and tear the papers up. Instead, she rolled her eyes and her lips flattened into a terse line.

‘Don’t do me any favours, Gill.’

He would have been an idiot to miss the sarcasm. ‘I mean it, Harry. Really.’