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“They’re here for Miss Drexel.”

The older nurse opened her mouth like she intended to argue, then shook her head. “You know what, I don’t have time for this.” She brushed past Helen and motioned for Lachlan and me to follow. “You’re already here. I’m not kicking you out now.” Her shoes squeaked as she strode past the counter, speaking over her shoulder. “I’m Joan, one of the nurse midwives. Ah, here we are.” She disappeared inside a patient room.

Lachlan and I froze on the threshold, then looked at each other. Midwife? We knew that word. It was an old one, and its meaning hadn’t changed over the centuries.

Joan stuck her head out the door. “Gentlemen? It’s been a busy night and my shift ends in an hour.”

“Sorry,” I heard myself say, and Lachlan and I followed her inside as my thoughts whirled with the implications of Chloe being treated by a midwife.

Then I saw Chloe sitting in the hospital bed, her face pale and frightened, and my heart dropped to my feet. “Lass,” I breathed, rushing to her side. “Are you all right? You scared Lach and me near to death.” He crowded beside me, his face nearly as pale as hers.

Her mouth trembled. “I…don’t know. They said I’m pregnant.”

Joan made a soft noise, and the three of us looked at her standing near the door. “I’m sorry,” she told Chloe. “We’ve been so busy tonight, I didn’t think to ask if you told your”—her gaze drifted over Lachlan and me—“um…partner.”

“Partners,” Chloe said firmly. She lifted her chin, and her voice grew stronger. “Both of these men are my partners.”

I braced myself for a negative response, but Joan simply nodded. “Well, my apologies for dropping the news so abruptly.” Her brows pulled together. “Your hormone levels looked a little off, so we’d like to do an ultrasound. I’ll just pop out and grab the machine.” She left in another swirl of no-nonsense efficiency.

The second she was out the door, Chloe’s face crumpled. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered. She looked up, faint hope glimmering in her eyes. “It couldn’t be one of yours, could it? You used a condom on the plane, but then…” She trailed off and swallowed, obviously anxious.

I shook my head slowly. “No, honey. I used a condom the first time because I didn’t want to alarm you. But we don’t need one. Lach and I can’t catch human diseases, and we can’t get you pregnant until we’ve claimed you.”

Lachlan pulled a couple of visitors’ chairs over. We sat, and he laced his fingers through Chloe’s. “Och, they’ve bruised your wee hand.” He planted a soft kiss on the greenish discoloration around her IV. “I can fix it, lassie. Soon as you’re home.”

“You can?”

“‘Course I can. Dragon tears have healing powers.”

Moisture streaked down her cheek. “It’s Josh’s baby.” Her mouth trembled again. “What are we going to do?”

I stroked the soft skin of her arm under the sleeve of her hospital gown. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Lach and I support you no matter what.”

“But what about Josh? God, I’d have to see him for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t think about that now,” Lachlan said. “Just focus on getting better.” He drew an unsteady breath. “When I saw the blood on your thighs… Christ, lass, I couldn’t bear thinking I’d hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” she insisted. “They told me bleeding is common at this stage, and some women spot through their entire pregnancy.” A shy look bloomed over her delicate features. “You didn’t hurt me. I loved every minute of what we did. What we all did.”

A squealing sound split the air, and then Joan entered with a machine on a rolling cart. “Here we are,” she said, maneuvering it to Chloe’s bedside and locking it in place. She punched a bunch of buttons, then turned to Chloe. “Since you’re early in your pregnancy, I’ll need to do a transvaginal ultrasound for accuracy.”

“All right.”

Joan glanced at me and Lachlan. “Are you okay with—”

“They’re staying,” Chloe said.

Joan didn’t bat an eye, and I exhaled with relief because I had a feeling she’d be tricky to charm. Some people were naturally less susceptible to suggestion. Others had simply encountered too much bullshit in their lives to be persuaded. My money was on Joan fitting both descriptions.

She fiddled with the machine some more, then swished a probe under Chloe’s blankets with sleight of hand that would have put a magician to shame. A second later, a grainy image appeared on the black and white screen.

Chloe tensed.

Lachlan and I leaned forward.

In profile, Joan’s mouth turned down. After a moment, she faced Chloe, and her voice lost its clipped, harried edge. “I’m truly sorry, dear. This isn’t a viable pregnancy.”

“What?” Chloe looked between her and the screen. “I don’t understand.”