Hired: GP and Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Surprise Proposal (7 page)

‘You did your best—and at least you got him into sinus rhythm.’

Atholl shook his head and corrected her. ‘It was a team effort, Terry. I couldn’t have managed without you.’

For a second their eyes locked and a look of relief and triumph flickered between them. They grinned at each other, buoyed up by the adrenaline of success.

Then Atholl said briskly, ‘Right, Bill can drive us back to his ambulance and tell Hamish’s son to move the sheep. OK, Bill, let’s go. I’ll hold onto this dog until we’ve got there. Let’s hope they’ve managed to extricate the ambulance—it’s the only one we’ve got on the island.’

The two of them sat slumped in the steamy back of the vehicle, both feeling the sudden exhaustion that came with the anticlimax of dealing with a dramatic situation. The dog was lying across the edge of the seat, finally quiet as if he too was tired out.

Atholl’s gazed drifted over to Terry, lying back with her eyes closed, her lashes sweeping her high cheekbones, wet hair plastered to her head and her mouth slightly open. He smiled to himself. She was as tough as any man—she’d just proved it!

T
HE
Land Rover bucked its way along the narrow twisting country road. Now that the patient had been delivered to the hospital, Bill seemed intent on getting back to the farm as quickly as possible, however rough the road was! Stretching his long legs out in front of him, Atholl massaged his shoulders to ease the tension of bending over Hamish for a prolonged time.

‘God, that was touch and go,’ he remarked. ‘If we’ve saved him, it’s been a great day’s work.’

‘Oh, I do hope so.’ Terry brushed wet strands of hair out of her eyes and, despite the adrenaline that had been coursing round her body a few minutes ago, gave a huge yawn and leaned tiredly against the door. She felt depressed despite the fact that they’d helped to save a man’s life. She was having one of those black moments when, out of the blue, something would trigger those ghastly memories. In her mind’s eye she’d see a vivid picture of her father again, her last vision of him lying in her arms, his lips blue and his breath fading from his body.

The fact was that dealing with Hamish Stoddard had reminded her strongly of her father. He was the same age and the same build as her father had been, with similar thick white hair, and suddenly she felt very alone and far from anyone who cared for her.

She sighed, swallowing a lump in her throat and blinking back tears of self-pity, allowing her body to be jolted as Bill kept his foot on the accelerator as they rounded corners.

Atholl flicked a glance at her sad expression—the look that came over her from time to time. Losing her father had obviously been a terrible blow, but instinctively he felt there was something more to the story that she’d told him, something unresolved in her past, and he hated to see the heartbreak reflected in her eyes and drooping mouth.

‘You all right?’ he asked. ‘Here, lean against me—not on that hard door. You’ll be shaken to death. I may be a bit damp, but at least I’m not made of metal!’

He put an arm round Terry to pull her towards him and for a moment she hesitated, as if not quite sure about the offer, looking doubtfully up at his mud-streaked face and the rivulets of water that ran down from his soaked hair and onto his damp jersey that smelt of wet wool. Then the car accelerated over another pothole, jolting her sharply against the door again, and she smiled at him.

‘Thanks. It is a bit uncomfortable here.’

She lay back against him, rather self-consciously at first but gradually succumbing to the broad comfort of his chest, and in the small steamy confines of the back of the Land Rover, where it was warm and intimate, the outside world began to recede. Terry forgot about Bill driving the vehicle, or the dog panting by Atholl’s side, even the aching sadness of missing her father. All she was aware of was just how close Atholl was to her. She relaxed gratefully against his broad frame with the comforting damp warmth and rough feel of his thick jersey around her, his breath on her cheek.

Did he feel the gradual heightening of the atmosphere too, Terry wondered, or was it just her over-active sensitivity when she was feeling rather down and leaning against a man who oozed sex appeal? She closed her eyes, savouring the comfort of his arm supporting her, feeling her sadness slip away. When she opened them again he was looking down at her intently, then the blue of his eyes darkened and he tightened his grip round her, twisting his body so that she was pulled against his chest.

‘You looked rather miserable a minute ago,’ he said huskily. ‘Is anything wrong?’

To Terry’s embarrassment two large tears rolled down her cheeks and she gave an involuntary sob. That was what happened when people were kind to you and you felt very low—your defences came down and your emotions got the better of you. She gulped and swallowed back the large lump that had settled in her throat.

‘Sorry, it’s nothing really. I don’t know what came over me. It was just that I was reminded of something…’

‘Yes?’ he said gently, bending his head nearer hers so that he could hear her above the noise of the Land Rover. ‘Tell me, Terry, what’s troubling you?’

She shook her head mutely. Her background had to remain a secret and, however kind Atholl’s enquiry, the baggage from her past life was a closed door as far as he—or anyone else—was concerned. It was unlikely that she could ever reveal the whole reason for her flight to Scotland.

‘I miss my father very much,’ she said at last. ‘It comes over me in waves—but I’ll be all right. I’m being silly.’ She gave a watery smile and brushed the tears roughly away from her eyes.

‘You must also be missing your friends and London—your social life,’ he suggested.

She pulled away from him abruptly. ‘I’ll get over it,’ she said sharply. ‘I’ve left all that behind.’

Atholl looked quizzically at her. Just what had she left behind? She seemed unwilling to expand on any aspect of her life in London. He stroked away a stray tear on her cheek with his finger and turned her head towards him.

‘No pangs, then, for the bright lights?’

The look in his warm blue eyes was compassionate, as if he knew what she was going through, and again she felt those treacherous tears well up in her eyes. Angrily she tried to blink them back. What a mawkish idiot she was being. Atholl squeezed her to him comfortingly, then after a second’s pause lowered his head to hers and brushed her forehead with his lips, a feather-light kiss that sent a scorching flood of heat through her body. It was so brief a touch that at first she wondered if he’d actually kissed her. She looked up at him questioningly and then it seemed only natural for her arms to wind round his neck, bringing him nearer, and he kissed her again, this time full on her lips, and his firm mouth felt sweet, salty and demanding.

Oh, how she’d needed this sort of closeness and comfort again, to feel that someone cared for her, was even interested in her…Giddily she wondered at the back of her mind if wasn’t rather dangerous to be kissing a colleague like this when she wasn’t interested in men—especially a man she hardly knew. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly. A thousand butterflies were fluttering inside her and her heart was doing a mad tattoo against her ribs. Why, only a few months ago she had thought she was madly in love with Max, and only he could ever light her fire. How odd that suddenly every nerve in her body was tingling with anticipation and longing to do more than just kiss a man who was practically a stranger!

As his warm lips sought her cool ones, her lively imagination leapt further ahead. What would it be like to make love to him properly? To feel his hands caressing her, to lose herself in everything but the delight of his touch?

Then all of a sudden she felt Atholl pulling away from her and gently disengaging her arms from around him. Embarrassment made her cheeks redden, and she tried not to look too startled.

He shook his head with a wry smile and said in a joking manner, ‘I’m sorry about that…a bit of an overreaction after a tough afternoon. I just hated to see you upset and, well, I…I just wanted to thank you for your help, show you how grateful I am. I didn’t mean to overstep the mark!’ He grinned at her. ‘But we worked so well together, didn’t we? It’s great to know that we have a good working relationship.’

A good working relationship? It had seemed to Terry for a moment there that it had gone way beyond a ‘working relationship’, but she’d obviously misinterpreted it—he was making it very clear that that was what he wanted. It had been nothing more than an over-enthusiastic hug to comfort her.

‘It was just part of my job—as you said, a team effort,’ she said lightly, and chuckled as if being kissed by the most stunning-looking man she’d been near for some time was just a normal occurrence, the usual way one thanked a colleague and of no consequence whatsoever.

But inwardly she felt the acute embarrassment of taking far too much for granted, and it left her slightly deflated. It had obviously been just an honest and kindly gesture on his part to comfort someone who had started blubbing without apparent reason, and she had read more into the situation than Atholl had meant.

She drew back shakily from the warmth of his body. His mouth had felt so sweet on hers, so right, so comforting, and she had responded far too passionately to the light kisses he’d given her. He probably assumed, she thought gloomily, that she wasn’t averse to a casual encounter, an easy bit of sex on the side.

She smiled brightly and said briskly, ‘So, when we’ve deposited Bill, it’s back to the surgery?’

‘Afraid so. It’s the mother-and-baby clinic this afternoon—do you think you could take that with Sue? I’ve got a meeting with that wretched man from the health authority.’ Atholl’s voice was casual, relaxed, as if kissing her hadn’t raised his heartbeat at all. And as if to emphasise that, he shouted out over the noise of the engine to Bill, ‘Could you tell Hamish’s son about the sheep Bill? Terry and I have to get back.’

Terry had almost forgotten about Bill driving the vehicle, and looked at him with some embarrassment. Had he seen Atholl and her locked in a close embrace in the back? It wouldn’t appear so as he and Atholl started up a mundane conversation about the weather and the difficulty of ever getting the ambulance out of the mud, without a hint of self-consciousness. Indeed, Atholl seemed to have forgotten all about her, bending his head to look at the dog and stroking him gently.

Atholl tried to breathe deeply and slowly, endeavouring to calm himself. Why the hell had he just kissed Terry like that—given in to the powerful attraction he suddenly admitted he’d felt ever since he’d first seen her on the quayside less than two weeks ago? She’d looked so uncomfortable and rather vulnerable, sitting squashed in the back of the Land Rover with him, and that was why he’d invited her to lean against him. But once he’d felt that soft body next to his some madness had overcome him and he’d felt an irresistible urge to kiss her, try and comfort her. If he wasn’t careful he’d be in too deep with a woman he knew next to nothing about, and who, for all he knew, could cause him as much aggravation as Zara Grahame had.

For a second an image of his forthright mother came into his mind—he could almost hear her scornful words. ‘Atholl Brodie, you never learn, do you? I told you to keep away from those high-falutin’ girls who’ve been brought up in gilded cages. You want to stick to your own sort—a girl from your own background and area. You’re a fool to try and fit in where you don’t belong!’

He flicked a look at Terry. She was looking out of the window, her delectable profile turned slightly away from him, tip-tilted nose, lips slightly parted, and he groaned inwardly. They had had very different upbringings. He guessed from her speech and manner that she had a background of wealth and privilege, but the truth was that now he knew how it felt to kiss Terry, he couldn’t wait to do it again—and plunge his life into turmoil once more, he thought savagely to himself.

A day or two later Atholl came into Terry’s room to remind her that they were doing a home visit to the Mackie sisters who lived in one of the cottages perched high on the hillside on one of the remote estates on the island.

‘It’s a good opportunity to show you a bit of the island so that you have some idea of the layout when you come to do your own home visits,’ he said.

There was something about his brisk, businesslike manner, with no hint of intimacy, that gave Terry the impression that he wanted to maintain a distance between them after the episode in the Land Rover. He’d also made a point of staying out of the house until she was in bed. And that was absolutely for the best, she thought resolutely, picking up her medical bag and slinging a coat round her shoulders.

Yet again the weather had changed and now the skies were turning blue and the sun was warm on their faces as they got into the car. Shona was sitting in the back, her ears pricked excitedly for the outing, wagging her tail in anticipation of a long walk. But the easy camaraderie of the other day seemed to have vanished and silence hung heavily between them on the journey. Terry very aware that Atholl felt they had become too intimate that day. She tried hard to dredge up some small talk to lighten the atmosphere as they arrived at the sisters’ home—one half of a pair of cottages with a pretty little garden to the side and back.

‘It’s like Hansel and Gretel’s cottage,’ she remarked brightly. ‘A sweet little place.’

‘It’s part of the Dunsford Estate,’ explained Atholl, seeming to relax a little. ‘Kate and Sarah’s father was the old laird’s gamekeeper, or “stalker” as he liked to be called. When he died they continued living here and helping at the big house, cooking and cleaning. Now they’re both in their eighties and very independent—it’ll be hard to get them to accept help.’

He knocked at the door and they waited for a few moments. He knocked again but there was still no reply, so he tried to turn the doorhandle, but it was locked.

‘Funny,’ he muttered. ‘They aren’t very mobile, but they usually sit in the room just behind this door. I would’ve expected them to answer it more quickly than this—and I’ve never known them lock the door.’ He tried to peer through the lace curtains of the small window by the door, then gave an impatient exclamation. ‘I’ll go round the back and look in through the windows—you wait here in case they do answer the door.’

Just then a quavery voice sounded behind them. ‘Hello, Doctor! We didn’t think you’d be here so quickly! We’ve just been scrubbing up a few early potatoes!’

Two frail figures were making their way towards Atholl and Terry from the garden path that led from a small vegetable patch, both dressed in similar dark coats with felt hats on their heads. One of the old ladies was coughing and wheezing and the other one supported her.

‘That’s quite a heavy bag you’ve got there, Kate,’ said Atholl, striding forward, taking the potatoes from her and putting one hand under the arm of her sister. ‘Have you got the key of the house ready?’

‘Aye—it’s somewhere in my pocket.’ Kate fumbled for it then handed it to Atholl. ‘We don’t normally lock the door, as you know…but something bad has happened, hasn’t it, Sarah?’

The other sister looked up at both the doctors and they noticed she was trembling. ‘We’ve been burgled, Doctor,’ she quavered. ‘We were down the garden after Sue, your community nurse, had left this morning. When we came back there was a terrible mess…’ She stopped and looked helplessly at Kate. ‘I…I don’t like to think about it…’