Wedding Day Baby Read online

  PRAISE FOR MOYRA TARLING:

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books by Moyra Tarling

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Copyright

  PRAISE FOR MOYRA TARLING:

  “Moyra Tarling’s writing style, strong characters and sharp pacing make good reading.”

  —Romantic Times magazine

  Moyra Tarling creates “a well-written love story that tugs at the heartstrings.”

  —Rendezvous

  And now Silhouette Romance proudly presents

  WEDDING DAY BABY

  by Moyra Tarling.

  It’s a

  SOMETIMES BIG SURPRISES

  COME IN SMALL PACKAGES!

  Dear Reader,

  Silhouette welcomes popular author Judy Christenberry to the Romance line with a touching story that will enchant readers in every age group. In The Nine-Month Bride, a wealthy rancher who wants an heir and a prim librarian who wants a baby marry for convenience, but imminent parenthood makes them rethink their vows....

  Next, Moyra Tarling delivers the emotionally riveting BUNDLES OF JOY tale of a mother-to-be who discovers that her child’s father doesn’t remember his own name—let alone the night they’d created their Wedding Day Baby. Karen Rose Smith’s miniseries DO YOU TAKE THIS STRANGER? continues with Love, Honor and a Pregnant Bride, in which a jaded cowboy learns an unexpected lesson in love from an expectant beauty.

  Part of our MEN! promotion, Cowboy Dad by Robin Nicholas features a deliciously handsome, duty-minded father aiming to win the heart of a woman who’s sworn off cowboys. Award-winning Marie Ferrarella launches her latest miniseries, LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER, with One Plus One Makes Marriage. Though the math sounds easy, the road to “I do” takes some emotional twists and turns for this feisty heroine and the embittered man she loves. And Romance proudly introduces Patricia Seeley, one of Silhouette’s WOMEN TO WATCH. A ransom note—for a cat!—sets the stage where The Millionaire Meets His Match.

  Hope you enjoy this month’s offerings!

  Mary-Theresa Hussey

  Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  WEDDING DAY BABY

  Moyra Tarling

  To Grace Green,

  (The Scottish Connection)

  For your friendship and support.

  Thank you!

  Books by Moyra Tarling

  Silhouette Romance

  A Tender Trail #541

  A Kiss and a Promise #679

  Just in Time for Christmas #763

  All About Adam #782

  No Mistaking Love #907

  Just a Memory Away #937

  Christmas Wishes #979

  Finally a Family #1081

  It Must Have Been the Mistletoe #1122

  Twice a Father #1156

  Marry in Haste #1242

  Wedding Day Baby #1325

  MOYRA TARLING is the youngest of four children born and raised in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. It was there that she was first introduced to and became hooked on romance novels. After immigrating to Vancouver, Canada, Ms. Tarling met her future husband, Noel, at a party in Birch Bay—and promptly fell in love. They now have two children. Together they enjoy browsing through antique shops and auctions, looking for various items, from old gramophones to antique corkscrews and buttonhooks.

  Prologue

  Lieutenant Commander Dylan O’Connor lay on the bed staring at the sleeping figure of the young woman beside him.

  He gazed intently at Maggie Fairchild, memorizing one by one each stunning feature: skin as flawless as fine porcelain, classic cheekbones, the smooth curve of her neck, the way her long, dark hair curled invitingly around her small delicate ears, and her long lashes concealing eyes the color of rich, milk chocolate.

  Dylan felt the steady rhythm of his heart falter for a moment as his glance fell on the sensual fullness of Maggie’s lips; lips still swollen from his kisses, lips with a taste and texture he knew he’d never forget.

  The memory of her response, at once so totally innocent yet undeniably and incredibly erotic, ricocheted through him, and he felt his whole body react.

  Not for the first time since he’d walked into Maggie’s bedroom less than six hours ago, Dylan found himself in the grip of a desire so strong he could barely control it.

  It had been a little after midnight when he’d heard the muffled sounds of crying coming from the room next door.

  Throughout the double funeral service Maggie had stood by his side in silent sorrow, and he’d admired her quiet dignity, her stoic presence at a time of such profound sadness.

  Together they’d suffered a devastating loss: she, the father she’d adored and he, his aunt, the only woman to breach the wall he’d built around his heart.

  He’d sat down on Maggie’s bed and eased her gently into his arms, stroking the silky strands of her hair and rocking her until her sobs gradually subsided.

  In some strange way he’d found comfort in the very act of comforting, and when she’d lifted her head and given him a tentative smile, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to touch his mouth to hers.

  He hadn’t been prepared in any way for the passion that had exploded between them like a lab experiment gone awry, igniting a need that had burned through them at lightning speed.

  They’d made love with a kind of frenetic urgency, as if perhaps they were both afraid the world might suddenly come to an end.

  When it was over they’d stared at each other in silent wonder before beginning the entire process again. Their second journey had been infinitely slower as they’d explored each other’s bodies more thoroughly, savoring the tender touches and delighting in each other’s breathless responses, as together they made the heady climb to sensual fulfillment.

  Dylan slowly released the breath he was holding, fighting the urge to kiss the rosy lips and rekindle the fire he knew would quickly consume them.

  The sun was making its slow ascent into the sky, and as the dawn broke, drawing shadows on the bedroom wall, for the first time in his life Dylan found himself dreaming dreams and making wishes.

  His hand trembled a little as he reached out to gently finger a lock of Maggie’s hair.

  The strident ring of his cellular phone shattered the stillness, and as Maggie’s eyes flickered open, Dylan snatched up the receiver from the bedside table.

  Even before he heard the voice of his commanding officer, Dylan silently acknowledged that dreams and wishes had no place in his life...not now...maybe not ever.

  Chapter One

  Maggie Fairchild closed the door to Dr. Whitney’s office and stood for a moment on the sidewalk enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sunshine.

  The doctor had just assured her everything was fine. But Maggie couldn’t seem to quell her growing apprehension about the impending birth of her baby, with her due date, June 22, less than a month away.

  Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she pushed her fears aside and gently placed a hand on her swollen abdomen, smiling to herself when she felt the baby kick in instant response to her touch.

  “Let’s go home.” She spoke the
words softly, lovingly, before joining the trickle of tourists meandering down Grace Harbor’s main thoroughfare.

  When she reached Indigo Street, Maggie rounded the corner and collided with something warm and solid and decidedly unyielding.

  “Oh!” Maggie stumbled backward, and instantly a strong pair of hands reached out to steady her.

  “I’m so sorry.” The deep, rich, masculine voice washed over her, and Maggie’s head jerked up and her heart slammed against her rib cage in startled response when she found herself staring at the handsome, unforgettable features of Dylan O’Connor. He was the man who’d said goodbye to her eight months ago, the man she’d given up hope of ever seeing again, the man whose child lay nestled safely beneath her heart.

  “Dylan?” His name came out in a breathless whisper, and Maggie felt her pulse trip over itself in alarm at the look of bewilderment she could see in the depths of his silver-gray eyes.

  On hearing the woman use his name, Dylan inhaled sharply, and his gaze flew to her face. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he studied her shocked expression, all the while silently praying that this time his mind would relinquish just one small memory.

  His doctors at the naval base in San Diego had advised against making the trip to Grace Harbor, the small summer resort on Oregon’s windswept coast. But the burning need to take some action to try and unlock the door to his past had easily outweighed their protests.

  And while it was rewarding that the first person he met appeared to recognize him, his fervent hope that just such an occurrence might be the catalyst needed to jar his memory, quickly faded and died.

  Frustration gave an edge to his voice. “How do you know me?” Dylan asked with some urgency, and watched in fascination as the expression in her soft brown eyes swiftly changed from startled joy to stark disbelief.

  Maggie stared at Dylan in stunned silence. He was teasing her. He had to be! But she could see no glint of humor in his eyes, no welcoming smile, not even the faintest flicker of recognition.

  “You don’t remember me?” Maggie forced the words past lips that were trembling, fighting now to control the bubble of hysteria threatening to burst free.

  Dylan’s frown deepened, and Maggie held her breath as his gaze swept over her once more. But when his gray eyes returned to hers, all she could see was tension, anger and a deep frustration.

  Even before he opened his mouth to reply she already knew his answer, and the pain suddenly slicing through her swiftly eradicated the feelings of joy that had erupted when she’d first heard his voice.

  “No...I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.” Dylan spoke the words he’d been repeating more often than he cared to think about during the past four months.

  But what choice did he have? He couldn’t lie. And much as he might want to ease the anxiety he could see shimmering in the depths of the young woman’s eyes...much as he wanted desperately to remember something... he didn’t.

  He didn’t remember her. He didn’t remember anything.

  The doctors at the hospital in San Diego had told him he was lucky to be alive, that if his seat belt hadn’t been securely fastened when the truck crossed the median and ran headlong into his car, he’d have been just another statistic.

  He’d spent four months in a coma and awakened not knowing who he was or where he was. His memories, his past, his life, had all been erased.

  It had taken another four months of intense therapy, both physical and mental, to restore some semblance of normalcy to his life, and while he’d made great progress and regained a good deal of his strength, his memories had remained locked inside him.

  Not until he’d started cleaning out his quarters at the base had he come across the stack of mail that had accumulated since the accident. It was there he’d found the letters from a lawyer in Grace Harbor informing him he was a beneficiary in his aunt’s and her husband’s will.

  The letters had been the catalyst that set him on the road to Grace Harbor. The moment he read them he decided to take control of his life and go in search of the key to unlock his past.

  Dylan felt the young woman before him sway, bringing him back to the present. He tightened his hold and glanced at her pale features in time to see a look of pain darken her eyes.

  “Are you all right? Is it the baby?” Dylan asked anxiously.

  “No,” came the shaky reply, in a voice scarcely more than a whisper.

  “Maybe you should sit down,” Dylan suggested, concern for the woman and her unborn child uppermost in his mind.

  “No...really. I’m okay,” Maggie insisted.

  Taking a step back, Maggie broke free of Dylan’s hold, all the while wondering if she’d somehow stumbled into a nightmare.

  At that moment, as if to remind her of its existence, the baby began repeatedly to kick her. “Oh...” Maggie winced, and instinctively her hand moved to her stomach.

  “Maybe you should see a doctor,” Dylan said, convinced he was the cause of her distress. “Or I could call your husband.”

  “I’m not married,” Maggie replied abruptly.

  “Oh...then let me drive you home. My car is parked—”

  “No! Please... it’s not necessary,” she cut in. “The baby’s active, that’s all,” she explained, wondering for a fleeting second if the child had somehow sensed its father’s presence.

  As this thought registered, it was all Maggie could do to hold back the tears suddenly stinging her eyes. She dropped her gaze, silently admonishing herself for her weakness.

  But her emotions these days seemed to be very close to the surface. This unexpected and strange encounter with Dylan was taking its toll, and she knew she was liable at any moment to burst into tears.

  She swallowed the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. “I just came from the doctor’s office,” she explained. “I’m on my way home,” she added, trying to keep the telltale tremor from her voice.

  “Let me drive you,” Dylan offered.

  “It’s not necessary,” she quickly countered, wanting to be alone. Seeing Dylan again, a Dylan who gave no indication whatsoever that he even knew her, was having a profound effect on her.

  There had been times throughout her pregnancy when she’d dreamed of his return, imagining a sweet and joyous reunion. But never in her wildest moments had she envisioned a scene quite like the one playing out now.

  “Fine,” Dylan responded easily. “But I insist on seeing you home safely,” he said.

  Maggie didn’t have the energy to refuse. Bizarre as the situation was, and distraught as she felt by the fact that he didn’t remember her, in a small corner of her heart she was still clinging to the hope that there was some reasonable explanation for Dylan’s unusual behavior.

  “All right. Thank you,” Maggie relented.

  “Good. Lean on me.” Dylan offered her his arm.

  Maggie’s heart shuddered to a standstill. “I can manage,” she told him, though her voice sounded husky. But she knew if she touched Dylan now, the thin thread of her control would surely snap in two.

  It was as they silently made their slow ascent up Indigo Street that Maggie noticed Dylan was wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of old, faded, blue jeans.

  Gone was the naval uniform she was accustomed to seeing, and gone too was the regulation haircut synonymous with men who served their country.

  His jet-black hair now curled invitingly at the nape of his neck, and Maggie noted with some surprise that he appeared to have lost weight.

  Had he been ill? she wondered.

  “How far is it?” Dylan asked, cutting into her wayward thoughts.

  Maggie darted him a questioning glance.

  “At the crest of the hill,” she told him, finding it more than a little strange having to relate this information.

  Dylan knew exactly where she lived. He’d stayed at Fairwinds eight months ago—had spent the night making love to her, first with a frenzied passion that had thrilled and electrified her, and again with
an aching tenderness that had touched her soul and moved her immeasurably.

  Could he really have forgotten?

  But what other explanation was there? Either he was a damned good actor, or he really didn’t remember her.

  Maybe this man wasn’t Dylan after all, she silently reasoned. Maybe he was someone who only looked like Dylan. Everyone had a double somewhere, didn’t they?

  But even as these wild notions flitted through Maggie’s head, she knew she was only fooling herself.

  “This is it.” Her breathing somewhat labored, she slowed to a halt at the entrance to the driveway leading to the old Georgian-style house Maggie ran as a bed-and-breakfast.

  “Fairwinds.” Dylan read the name painted in black and gold on the sign that faced the street. His gaze shifted to the large three-story structure nestled amid a stand of tall fir trees and several silver birches.

  Maggie darted him a curious glance. Not only did Dylan not remember her, he didn’t appear to remember Fairwinds. If that was the case, what had brought him to Grace Harbor?

  While she longed to ask the question, Maggie wasn’t altogether sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  Digging in her purse, she located her keys. She stood for a moment, at a loss to know what to say or do. Should she invite him in? No...she really wasn’t feeling up to dealing with this inexplicable situation. It was all so confusing.

  “Thank you for walking me home,” she said, before turning and heading down the driveway.

  “Wait!” Dylan called out, and when her head whipped round to look at him, he caught the glimmer of hope that flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

  “Question?” she repeated with a frown.

  “How do you know me?” Dylan asked, and to his astonishment, watched as her eyes filled with tears. Startled, he took a step toward her. “I’ve upset you. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention—”