‘He’ll come back. He always did when he was a boy and got hungry enough. At least you’ll be here when he does. I need to go and look after my Jack.’
‘Of course. I can take Lady Josephine’s dinner up, if you like.’
‘Oh, thank you. To be honest, I’d like to be with my Jack right now.’
Mrs Tillman had been right in thinking that the food wouldn’t be welcome, however.
‘You need to eat,’ Flick told Lady Josephine. ‘Or it will be more difficult to control your blood sugar levels. I’ll leave it here and come back later for a test.’
Sure enough, she found that Lady Josephine’s BGL had dropped when she went back to find the dinner untouched. The insulin dose had to be adjusted and Flick wanted to check again before her patient retired for the night but she was told to go away and not to come back till morning so she had to hope that the pager would be used if she was needed before then.
What was more of a worry was that Lachlan still hadn’t returned to the house. Flick found herself pacing and then standing to stare out of whatever windows she could find that gave her a view of the gardens and that ominously dark woodland beyond. Finally, just after nine p.m., she saw the shadowy figure crossing the lawn and then heard the front door slam shut.
By the time she headed for the stairs, having wavered but then decided in favour of intruding at such a personal time, she heard another door slamming shut and knew it was Lachlan’s bedroom on the other side of the first floor but Flick wasn’t going to let that derail her decision. Instead, she headed for the kitchen, where the oven had long since been turned off.
It wasn’t going to be hot roast beef and all the trimmings but the relief that Lachlan was safely back in the house was enough to make Flick realise she needed food and surely he did as well. She cut and buttered thick slices of homemade bread and made sandwiches with the beef. She looked at a jar of horseradish sauce in the fridge, which would have been a classic condiment for the beef, but then she spotted something else and, for the first time in hours, felt her lips curl in a tiny smile. She put a bottle of wine on the tray and then two glasses, which was possibly presumptuous but she’d made enough sandwiches for two people because, even if Lachlan didn’t want to talk, it could make a big difference just having some company.
Knowing that someone cared...
* * *
The knock on his door was unexpected.
Unwelcome.
But surely his mother hadn’t come to hurl any more verbal bombs about how he hadn’t been wanted and had never actually belonged here?
‘It’s only me...’
The sound of Flick’s voice through the door was almost equally unsettling because, for a horrible moment, Lachlan felt like he might really lose control and start crying or something. Because he could feel the edges of that feeling again—the happy/sad one—but this time it was the happy that was tipping the balance and, man...he could do with a hint of happy at the moment.
He opened the door to find Flick holding a huge tray, laden with plates and wine and...two glasses? It looked heavy and it was automatic to offer assistance by holding his hands out to take the tray. Flick seemed happy to let him take it, following him into his room as if it was an invitation to join him.
‘I finally got hungry,’ she told him. ‘And I figured you’d be even hungrier after tramping around the countryside so I thought we could have a bit of a picnic.’
A picnic? A happy, summery sort of thing to do? The idea was crazy but it also made Lachlan almost smile as he put the tray down on a table near the windows.
‘It’s freezing in here.’ Flick rubbed her arms and then stepped closer to the ornate fireplace on the other side of the room. ‘Is it safe to light this?’
‘I would think so. Tilly’s husband looks after getting chimneys swept every year and it always used to be laid with kindling and a supply of wood every time I came home...came here,’ he corrected himself. ‘I can hardly call it “home” any more, can I?’
Flick ignored his bitter comment. She knelt in front of the fire, striking a match to ignite the screwed-up newspaper beneath the kindling. She wasn’t wearing her uniform now, or even the smart clothes she’d worn when she’d first come here. She had well-worn denim jeans on and a white shirt beneath a navy-blue cardigan that looked thick enough to be soft and warm. And... Lachlan took another look...
‘What on earth have you got on your feet?’
‘Ugg boots.’ Flick didn’t move, other than to blow on the baby flames to encourage their growth. ‘They’re an Aussie thing. Lined with sheepskin so they’re perfect for English weather almost all year round but especially tonight.’ She looked up at him. ‘You must be freezing—you went out hours ago and you weren’t even wearing a coat.’
The fact that she’d noticed what he’d been wearing, had watched him perhaps and then been worried about him, made something tighten hard in Lachlan’s chest, even though he knew it wasn’t physically possible for a heart to be squeezed. He was cold right through to his bones, though, he had to admit, so he crouched down beside Flick and held his hands out to the now cheerful flicker of flames.
‘This is excellent. We can have our picnic right here.’ Flick’s smile was even more warming than those flames. ‘No, don’t move... I’ll get the tray.’
She jumped up to fetch the tray before Lachlan could argue but he didn’t want to move anyway. There was something very comforting about settling down properly on the hearth rug to watch the flicker of flames and soak in the warmth. Flick put the tray on the rug in front of him and then gathered some cushions from the nearby armchairs.
‘Luxury,’ she declared with a grin. ‘Now, dig in.’ She held the plate of chunky sandwiches towards him. ‘I’ll sort the wine. Also Australian...like my Ugg boots.’
Lachlan hadn’t given food a thought as he’d roamed the woodland, trying to deal with an impossible maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, but as soon as he was holding that soft, fresh bread in his hands and got a whiff of the roast beef, he was suddenly starving. One bite in and he found he was having another one of those moments when it felt like tears were embarrassingly close.
‘Tomato sauce...?’
‘Mmm...’ Flick passed him a glass of wine. And a smile. ‘A bucket of it.’ Her smile widened. ‘Hey...it could be considered fine dining from where I come from and...and I knew you liked it.’
The navy blue of the cardigan Flick was wearing was pretty much the same colour as her eyes in the shadows caused by the flickering flames and the firelight was also making streaks in her blonde hair glow like sunshine, but it wasn’t this woman’s extraordinary beauty that was overwhelming Lachlan right now. It was because she was caring for him. And about him. And she knew the worst, because she’d been right there when he’d learned that horrible truth about the lie his life had been.
The comfort of the fire and food was helping as well. And the wine. Even more, it was that he could feel so comfortable simply being in the company of another person, without needing to make conversation or do anything other than exchange an occasional glance or half-smile.
‘I’ll get rid of the tray,’ Flick offered, when they’d cleared the plates and polished off the wine.
‘No...don’t move.’ The smile Lachlan received told him that Flick was well aware he was echoing her earlier order to him. ‘It’s...um...nice to have someone to talk to.’ Although he hadn’t exactly done much talking, what he could see in Flick’s eyes told him that she was ready to listen if he wanted to. And...maybe she was the only person in the world he could talk to right now. ‘I think the occasion calls for dessert,’ he added, hurriedly. ‘How ’bout I find some ice cream?’
‘A picnic wouldn’t be complete without it.’ Flick nodded.
‘And, I don’t know about you, but I suspect a day like today also calls for some more wine.’
Flick’s nod was grave this
time. ‘I think so, too,’ she murmured. Her gaze was still holding his. ‘I’ll just stay nice and warm here, shall I?’
‘I think that’s only fair. It was you who came up with the idea of the picnic, after all.’ Lachlan took the wineglasses off the tray and put them down on the tiled hearth. ‘I’ll be right back.’
* * *
Flick could—and probably should—have gone to check on Lachlan’s mother and do another blood glucose test but she knew she wouldn’t be welcome and she was confident that the pager alarm would be used if something serious happened because that asthma attack today had been genuinely frightening for Lady Josephine. She also knew that Lachlan needed her more right now. Not that he’d said anything about what had happened but that comment he’d made about it being nice to have someone to talk to made her feel the need to hang around a bit longer in case he did want to talk about it.
Thank goodness he was, at least, looking a little better after some food and warmth. He’d looked like a ghost when she’d arrived in this room and Flick had had to fight the urge to simply put the tray on the floor and take him into her arms and hold him tightly for as long as it took to start fixing what had been broken. Getting the fire going had been a welcome distraction to fighting that surprisingly powerful desire. Flick added another log or two to tap into the distraction that movement could provide but it didn’t stop a distinct feeling of pleasure rippling through her body as Lachlan returned and closed his bedroom door behind him.
He’d been quick because he hadn’t stopped to do anything other than collect the basic supplies. He held a tub of ice cream and two spoons in one hand and a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew in the other. Chocolate fudge ice cream, Flick noted as she peeled off the covering, which would be even more delicious with the rich, red wine Lachlan was opening.
There was something disconcertingly intimate about sharing the same tub of ice cream, taking turns to dip their spoons into the treat but sometimes mistiming it enough for the spoons to touch—which felt remarkably like it was their hands touching. Maybe that was what made Lachlan feel like he could finally talk about it.
‘So many things make sense now,’ he said quietly. ‘I knew from very early on that I had to do well at everything I tried because that was what my father noticed. An achievement or a school prize was when I would get hugged. Or be given whatever it was I had my heart set on. He gave me my first Porsche when I was made Dux in my last year at secondary school.’
‘This is the boarding school you got sent to when you were only five years old?’ Flick could feel the echo of her horror the first time he’d told her about that. She put her spoon down, having lost her appetite for dessert.
Lachlan shrugged. ‘I wasn’t the only kid that age.’
‘But it must have been terrifying. And lonely.’
‘Home was pretty lonely, too,’ Lachlan said quietly. ‘I think I knew all along that my mother didn’t love me. I don’t think she even liked me so it’s no real surprise to learn that she didn’t want me. I tried so hard but nothing ever made her really happy. She’d pretend she liked a picture I’d drawn for her, or the bluebells I’d picked in the woods but they disappeared instantly. I think she threw them away the minute I got taken away by my nanny.’ He let his breath out in an ironic-sounding huff. ‘They are just starting to come out again, those bluebells. Don’t think I’ll be picking any for Mother this year.’
He abandoned his spoon now to pick up his glass and empty it. When he picked up the bottle and offered Flick a refill as well, she simply nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak at the moment in case she interrupted Lachlan’s thoughts by doing something stupid, like crying.
‘I did a lot of thinking out there tonight,’ he said. ‘To be honest, it was more of a bombshell meeting Josh today than to finally find out that I was adopted.’
‘I’ll bet.’ Flick was actually reaching out to take his hand before she realised what she was doing. She disguised the movement by shifting the unwanted ice-cream tub to the hearth. ‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like.’
‘It was unnerving,’ Lachlan admitted. ‘Like looking into a slightly distorted mirror. Our voices sound exactly the same too and...and there was a moment when we both rubbed our forehead at exactly the same time...like this...’ He used his middle finger to rub the centre of his hairline and he smiled wryly. ‘We even used the same finger...’
‘Wow...’
‘And out there in the woods, I thought about how much fun we could have had as kids, building the secret places I made alone. I even went and sat in one for a while today. And I thought about how much better school would have been if I’d had someone to share it with. A brother. A twin. A best friend...’
‘Oh... Lachlan...’ This time Flick didn’t stop herself from touching his hand. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed.
‘I feel like I’ve had half of my life stolen. Half of myself, even. Is that a bit mad?’
‘No...’ Flick held his gaze. ‘No, it’s not.’
‘I can’t forgive my mother. Not that she is my mother.’
‘If it’s any comfort, she really didn’t know that you were a twin. She was very upset.’
‘She knew she never loved me.’ Lachlan’s voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Or wanted me.’
Again, he drained the rest of his wine from his glass. Then he stared into the fire, which had burnt down to embers. Flick let go of his hand to lean forward and put another piece of wood into the fireplace and it was when she turned back that she saw a single tear rolling down Lachlan’s face. Startled, she raised her gaze to catch his and she knew that she was seeing everything there was to see about Lachlan McKendry in that moment.
A man who was completely raw. Being torn apart by incredibly powerful emotions. And Flick knew, only too well, how devastating that could be. She moved quietly, close enough to put her arms around Lachlan because...well...because she needed to hold him as much as she suspected he needed to be held by another human.
* * *
Oh...the warmth of her.
The softness.
The murmur of her voice, even though the words made no sense.
He’d never let a woman see him cry. Ever. But she wasn’t offering him pity. What he could feel in that embrace was the empathy of someone who understood this depth of pain. Someone who could see past anything superficial to what was important. Someone who could offer love because she had a heart that was as beautiful and real and unique as the rest of her.
Lachlan had no idea when it was that it tipped into something very different.
Escape?
A desire to abandon boundaries that had been put in place to protect a person who’d never felt any desire to protect him?
Or was it simply a surrender to an attraction that had been simmering from the first moment he’d laid eyes on Felicity Stephens and had only been fuelled beyond control by the intimacy of what had happened here this evening? In his bedroom, of all places, with the romance of flickering firelight and the probably unwise addition of a little too much alcohol.
Whatever the cause, it was happening. He’d raised his face from where it had been buried against Flick’s shoulder and they were so close to each other their noses were merely a hair’s breadth from touching. It could have been Flick who moved first—except it felt like she was melting rather than moving—and he moved his hand to cup her neck for support and then they were gazing at each other for a long, long moment as their breathing mingled and the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire. Silent questions were being asked and answered in that moment.
Do you want this as much as I do?
Yes...oh, God...yes...
We probably shouldn’t...
Being professional was a big thing for Flick. He didn’t want her doing something she might regret later.
It’s one night...a night l
ike no other will ever be... Maybe we both need it...
That was invitation enough to convince Lachlan. The feeling that maybe his distress had taken Flick back to a place where she had been in need of the kind of comfort she had unhesitatingly offered to him. And that, maybe, she hadn’t had somebody there for her?
Whatever...
In slow motion, Lachlan brushed Flick’s lips with his own—no more than a butterfly kiss. He saw her eyes close when he did it again and then he closed his own eyes as he let his lips settle against hers, gently feeling the shape of them, angling his head so that his mouth could capture more of that softness and heat that was enough to be spreading through his entire body. And then her lips opened beneath his and he could taste her and nothing on earth had ever cast a spell like this and desire became an almost desperate need as he deepened that kiss and let his tongue ask for permission to fulfil more of that need.
Minutes later, they were both fumbling with buttons. His shirt was undone a lot faster than his fingers could manage the tiny buttons on Flick’s shirt but there was skin exposed to the firelight in a very short time and he’d never seen anything as enticing as the soft swell of the most perfect breasts in the world. Lachlan lost the power of rational thought as he hooked the edge of her bra to put his lips to that satin skin and his tongue to a nipple that was as hard as a stone. As hard as part of his own anatomy had already become. The tiny sound of need that came from Flick as he undid the fastening of her jeans was almost too much. He had to slow this down or something that was this good would be over too soon when it should last for ever, which was what this perfect woman deserved.
But as he moved to take a breath Flick reached for him to open the zip on his trousers and she was touching him through the fabric, and it was clear that she didn’t want this to slow down. Lachlan got to his knees and then his feet. He reached a hand out to Flick who took it, keeping her gaze locked on his as she did so. He pulled her to her feet but only let go to scoop her body into his arms. Then he turned and walked the few steps it took to get to his bed. He set Flick down gently onto her feet and took his sweet time to kiss her again. And then she stood there, completely still, as he carefully removed the rest of her clothing.
A Surgeon with a Secret Page 8