‘The calves won’t go anywhere,’ she said, thinking out loud. ‘With Bonnie’s help Angus can drive them home by foot from here.’

Hooray for Angus, he thought. And William and Gran. A whole family. Better and better.

But she was wilting, and he was wasting time.

‘Okay,’ he said, and ignoring protests he lifted her across to his car, blessing the fact that the Aston Martin had a rear seat. Once again, though, he was surprised at how little she weighed.

Were things okay? Was this a normal pregnancy?

This was Not His Problem, he reminded himself sharply. He needed to cope with the emergency stuff only. She’d have her own obstetrician. Her family could take her there.

Stay professional and stay clinically detached.

But as he lifted her into the car he smelled a faint citrusy perfume, and he was caught once again in a totally unprofessional moment.

Her luminous green eyes were framed by long, dark lashes, surely unusual in a redhead. Her freckles were amazingly cute. Her flame-coloured curls were still doing their best to break out of their braids, and he had an almost irrational desire to help them escape.

Whoa. What was it with him? He was being dumb and irrational and stupid.

This was his patient. Therefore he could stop thinking dumb thoughts about how she smelled and how she felt against him and how her hair would look unbraided.

So turn professional.

‘Let’s do formal introductions,’ he said, trying to sound like he was about to key it into her patient history. ‘Can you tell me your full name?’

‘Maggie Maria Croft. You?’

‘Maxwell Harvey Ashton.’

‘Dr Ashton?’

‘Max is fine, we’ll forget the Harvey and I’m hoping we don’t need the Doctor. But if necessary…’ He hesitated but it had to be said. ‘If your family can’t take you, I’ll drive you to the hospital at Gosland-or even to Sydney if you prefer.’