Resisting Her English Doc

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Resisting Her English Doc Page 10

by Annie Claydon


  Fleur laughed. “No. It’s all smoke and mirrors.”

  “Really? What you’ve done for Jess tonight is real enough.”

  Fleur’s proud smile told him that it was real enough for her, too. She got out of the car, adjusting her swords across her back, and Ellie took her hand, attacking the piles of snow with her dagger. Jess entered the library on her father’s arm and a posse of girls crowded around her. Jim was persuaded to let his daughter go, but his fond gaze followed her as she was borne away, the center of attention and loud admiration for her costume.

  Clever lighting, combined with a generous helping of cobwebs, had turned the library into a shadowy, spooky world. Books and comics were laid out on one of the large tables, with food on another, a cake with a spider’s web frosted on the top, complete with an icing spider, and another emblazoned with a skull-and-crossbones. Rick imagined that the warring cake shops had been persuaded to allow their provender to appear on the same table in honor of the occasion, but that the respective owners would be keeping a keen eye out to see which was the most popular.

  Salty Harrington was parked in one corner in his wheelchair, in charge of storytelling, and Ellie had run off to join the circle of children around him. A cocked hat, an eye patch and a wicked-looking cutlass were all that Salty needed to look exactly like a pirate. Fleur had left him too, to speak with a mummy who he guessed was Pamela, although it was difficult to tell under all those bandages. A taller mummy, who arrived with a drinks for them both, and pressed his bandaged mouth against Pamela’s bandaged cheek, must be her husband.

  The clinic staff were out in force, along with a few of the patients. Summer Ryan, the daycare assistant, was dressed as a white witch, complete with a basket of fragrant herbs. And the new spinal surgeon, Dr. Rafael Valdez, wore an immaculate dark suit and top hat, his face painted to resemble a skull, with intricate traceries of black and red on his cheeks and forehead. His little daughter Gracie was clinging to his hand, dressed as a fairy princess. Rick smiled. If Ellie was anything to go by, three-year-old girls rarely wanted to dress as anything else.

  Wondering what Salty was filling the children’s heads with, he wandered over. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a dozen others, drinking in the story.

  “Are there trolls on the ship, Uncle Salty?” One of two identically dressed trolls, with pointed hats and patchwork jerkins over colored leggings and boots, piped up.

  “Every ship has trolls, little ’un. Two trolls together is especially lucky.” The two little girls squealed with delight, and Rick saw Cody’s head turn at the sound of his daughters’ voices. It seemed that Cody’s imagination had been exhausted by finding costumes for his girls, and he’d come in a surgical mask and gown, looking exactly the same as he did most days at the clinic.

  “No doctors in fancy weskits, though...” Rick jumped as Salty singled him out for comment and grinned, moving away. Clearly Salty had had his fill of doctors today.

  Fleur was still talking to Pamela and Rick made his way over to the drinks table, accepting a fizzing purple concoction from a red-haired Bigfoot in a leather jacket. Tonight was going to be an interesting night.

  * * *

  The night had been a success. Mollie Gardener hadn’t turned up but her husband had, telling anyone who would listen that she would have loved to come along but she’d been struck down with a headache. Fiona Brady, who made an extraordinarily benevolent-looking wicked witch, had mouthed in Rick’s direction that Mollie was regretting her show of malice, since no one had been much inclined to support her in it.

  The decorations were judged fabulous, and all the children left with goodie bags containing comics and sweets. Salty had been loaded back onto the clinic’s patient transport vehicle, waving his cutlass as he went, and Ellie had joined a group of the other children who were going to a sleepover at the childcare center. A band of women were sweeping paper plates and cups into rubbish bags, and Fleur was standing by the doorway, bidding everyone goodbye.

  Rick waited. It seemed entirely wrong to go now. He wanted her to himself, just for a few minutes. And finally, as the last of the partygoers drifted to their cars, they were alone.

  “You heard about Mollie?”

  “Yes, I did. Fiona told me.” Fleur’s smile told him that the information hadn’t been lost on her. The island had made its decision and chosen her over Mollie. Perhaps that would change her mind about looking at the sheriff’s file, but he wouldn’t press her tonight about it.

  “Where’s Pamela?” Rick looked around.

  “She was dreadfully nervous about this evening and ended up downing one too many of those purple cocktails. Her husband’s taken her off for a lie-down in the family pyramid.”

  “She needn’t have worried. Tonight was amazing.” The library looked even spookier now that it was empty. Long, dark shadows, one of which seemed to be moving...

  “Hey, you two. Take it home...” Fleur called out laughingly, and when Rick focused more carefully, he could make out two figures. Zombie superheroes, the tallest of whom had his cloak wrapped around the smaller one’s shoulders, were busy smudging each other’s face paint.

  “Fabulous party, Fleur. Goodnight.” Maggie’s voice emanated from the smaller zombie, as she led Alex from the shadows. Rick and Alex exchanged a gruff “See you at work” and Fleur closed the library doors behind them.

  “I’ll just check there’s no one else here and lock up.” Fleur flipped on the overhead lights, and suddenly the artistry of the decorations became apparent. Floating cobwebs, a few torn and painted sheets and cleverly placed lighting were all that she’d needed to turn the library into a place of shadows.

  “I’ll go and check the gallery...” Rick decided to make himself useful. Maybe Fleur wouldn’t want to go up there. She’d already faced enough of her fears tonight.

  “Wait... I’ll come with you.”

  Rick waited for her to finish her inspection of the ground floor and then held out his arm. “May I escort you, ma’am?”

  The narrow stairs didn’t allow them to walk together, and instead Rick held her hand, letting her follow him. They walked together up and down the rows of bookshelves, making sure that no one was hidden there. Fleur’s grip on his hand seemed a little tighter each time they neared the open gallery, but that was all. Another small step, which together with all the others was enough to climb a mountain.

  “So you’re not going to be able to tuck Ellie in tonight?”

  “No. Apparently it’s bad form for parents to drop in on a sleepover. And she’s four now, and a warrior, so that makes her completely grown up.”

  “All the same, you must feel it.” Fleur looked up at him.

  “Yeah, I feel it. But tomorrow night she’ll be wanting her story, and I’ll get to tuck her in.” Rick squeezed her hand, glad that this had mattered enough to Fleur to mention it.

  They made the full circuit, reaching the second staircase. Rick drew her back into the shelter of the space between the shelves.

  “I’m so proud of you. Brave warrior...”

  She smiled up at him, her body nestling close to his. “Every warrior needs a guide.”

  He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t do this. But actions spoke louder than words. Everything that they’d both done tonight had led up to this moment.

  He hesitated, in an agony of indecision. Then Fleur reached up, her fingers skimming his cheek.

  “I can’t help it, Rick...”

  “Neither can I...”

  He kissed her, feeling the pent-up longing explode in his chest. Fleur’s response matched his, bold and passionate, each of them fighting for dominance. Her final surrender was so sweet it took his breath away. Fleur wanted it all, the same way he did. The thought left him breathless.

  “You can keep your head...” She smiled up at him.

  “I can...what?”
/>
  “Didn’t you know? Moon Warriors have a history of beheading a man whose kiss disappoints them.” Mischief flashed in her eyes.

  “Ah. You might have mentioned that before I took the risk.”

  “You were never in any danger.”

  He was in danger. Of losing his head and his heart. But it seemed impossible now that they should part. That Rick should take her home and then go back to his own cold bed. And if this kind of passion lent an element of danger, the possibility of a bond that wouldn’t be easy to break, he could find safety in the knowledge that Fleur was leaving the island soon. They both knew the score. Two ships passing in the night, both knowing that, however sweet tonight might be, it wouldn’t last.

  He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Will you come back to the lighthouse with me? I may not be able to stop Mr. Hyde from making an appearance...”

  Fleur kissed him again. The kind of kiss that would make any man cast off his everyday appearance and turn into something else. A creature that was hers alone.

  “I’ll take the risk, Doctor...”

  * * *

  Fleur locked the library doors with the spare key that Pamela had given her, and called her mother from the car. She saw Rick’s face break into a smile when she said that she wouldn’t be home until the morning, tactfully omitting to say exactly who she’d be staying with. Her parents had accepted that she lived her own life some time ago.

  When he led her through from the garage, throwing his car keys onto the kitchen counter, he caught her hand, taking her through to the tower and up the long staircase to the viewing gallery. In the darkness, the light from the lantern above their heads reflected down into the room and shadows moved slowly across the floor.

  He took off his jacket, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and loosening his tie. The epitome of an English gentleman, with the manners to match, and wicked, dark blue eyes. Fleur wanted him so much that she could hardly breathe.

  “I noticed you haven’t had a drink all night. Would you like something now?” He caught her hand, bringing it up to his lips.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’ll be back in a tick.”

  However long a tick was... Apparently not that long, although it seemed like an age to be without him. Rick returned with a bottle of champagne, two slender fluted glasses held lightly between his fingers.

  They didn’t switch on the lights, there was no need. The moving light above their heads created a soft sweep of luster and shade. The lights of Boston on one side of them and the dark sea on the other. She was right on the edge of the unknown, but as long as she didn’t step out of this bubble, everything would be all right. Rick knew that she was leaving, and she knew that he would never follow her.

  Setting the glasses down on a low table that stood next to the sofa, he gave an expert twist of the cork and it popped loudly. Then he poured the champagne, handing one glass to Fleur and putting his arm around her waist.

  “What shall we drink to?”

  To plans? Fleur had enough of those, but none of them included staying on Maple Island. To home? She couldn’t share in Rick’s longing to make this place his home.

  “To...tonight.” Just that. A sweet interlude in their lives.

  “Yes. Tonight is good.”

  The regret in his eyes mirrored her own feelings but his tenderness chased that away. Tonight they were free to do anything they wanted. Rick touched his glass against hers, and they both took a sip of champagne to seal the bargain.

  He kissed her again, his lips warm against hers, his hand motionless on her back. Rick was waiting for her to set the pace.

  “Rick, I need you to help me.” There was no tactful way of putting this. “The leaflet that was in my discharge pack, about having sex after a knee and hip injury... I didn’t read it.”

  “That’s okay. I know what it says.” He kissed her. “Want me to run you through the salient points?”

  “Yes. That would be good.” Fleur took a swig from her glass, putting it back down onto the table. That hadn’t been as embarrassing as she’d feared.

  Reaching into his pocket, he took out a packet of condoms, putting them down on the table next to her glass. Then he pulled a high-backed, armless chair into the center of the room and sat down. His gaze seemed to devour her as he laid his hands on her hips, guiding her onto his lap, her legs straddling his.

  “First thing. You feel ready for sex?”

  “Very ready.” Fleur kissed him, feeling his lips curve into a smile against hers.

  “That’s a relief. Second thing. Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes.” It was almost as if they were making love right now. All the wanting, coupled with the start of a slow build-up of excitement. Rick’s free hand moved to the thick padding of her jacket, over her breast, and she caught her breath.

  He was whispering in her ear, telling her to move against him. Telling her exactly how much he wanted her, and how beautiful she was to him. His rhythm seemed to blend with the movement of the light above their heads and the roll of the dark sea.

  Rick loosened the leather belt around her waist and it dropped to the floor. As he unbuttoned her jacket, she pulled at the buttons of his shirt. She heard him gasp as she let her fingers explore the smooth skin of his chest. He was strong. A ripple of pure power followed the path of her touch.

  “You want to do this for real?” His hand slid inside her jacket, and Fleur felt warmth blossoming across her skin.

  “It is real, isn’t it?”

  She heard him chuckle quietly. “More real than I could ever have imagined.”

  * * *

  Long before he’d undressed her completely, Fleur had made him hers, stripping him of every last shred of his own will. He existed only to make love to her.

  When they were finally naked, she turned him into a quivering wreck, bringing him so close to completion that he almost begged her to stop, because he wanted this to last. Then she gave herself to him, calling out his name as she flung her head back.

  Now he wanted it all. Every last bit of passion. Everything that she could give him. Rick held her tight, waiting for her to catch her breath, and then lifted her gently from his lap. He had to take his cues from Fleur. Make sure that she was in no discomfort and let her set the pace, however agonizing it was.

  But her pace was just as urgent as his. She pulled cushions and a throw from the sofa, piling them onto the rug, and he laid her down on them. When he settled his body over hers, careful not to let his weight press down on her, she wound her legs around his waist, dragging him closer.

  “Comfortable? My bed’s not too far away...” He made one last attempt to slow things down.

  “I love it up here. And I want to feel you again, Rick. Now.”

  “Like this?” When he slid inside her again, he belonged only to Fleur.

  “Just like that.”

  For a moment they were motionless. Two bodies joined together in intimacy, light and shadow moving across them in a smooth, intoxicating sweep. Then she began to squeeze the muscles that cradled him inside her, and Rick almost lost control.

  Her lips formed into the shape of a kiss, and she whispered one word. It was the only word he wanted to hear right now.

  “Move...”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT WAS ONE of those bright, clear mornings when the sea sparkled. Rick had carried her back to his bed to sleep and make love again, and was watching the sunrise with Fleur slumbering in his arms. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so completely happy.

  Not just body happiness, the feeling of his skin against hers, fused in warmth. Head happiness. When everything seemed very clear and suddenly simple. And the first order of the day was coffee.

  He got out of bed, careful not to wake Fleur, because waking her was the second thing on his agenda. Pulling on a shi
rt and jeans, he hurried downstairs to the warmth of the kitchen.

  * * *

  Coffee...she could smell coffee. Fleur kept her eyes closed, feeling the mattress dip slightly under Rick’s weight. Then the scent of his body and the brush of his lips against hers.

  “Open your eyes...” His finger gently tapped her cheek.

  Seeing him was as good as the scent of him and the feel of him. He was wearing a dark blue casual shirt, the soft material unable to conceal the raw power of his shoulders. Blond-haired and square-jawed. Gorgeous.

  “Hey, there.” She rubbed her eyes to get a sharper focus. Fleur wanted to take all this in.

  “How are you doing?” He smiled. Did waking up get any better than this?

  “Fine... Warm...” She moved in the bed, stretching her limbs, and a sharp pain ran down her leg.

  “What...?” His brow furrowed. She didn’t want that, and Fleur reached up to smooth it with her fingertips.

  “Just a little ache in my leg. Perhaps I overdid it a bit yesterday.”

  “Maybe you should stay in bed today. Doctor’s orders.”

  Fleur laughed. “Only you’re not my doctor anymore, remember?”

  “Good point. Important point, actually...”

  “And staying in bed with you isn’t likely to be all that restful...”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Rick grinned. “I’ll fight you off.”

  He reached under the covers, pulling a pillow down to support her leg. Wrapping the duvet around her to keep her warm, he handed her one of the mugs of coffee. Then he slipped his sneakers off and sat next to her on the bed.

  “How’s that? Restful enough for you?”

  Fleur leaned toward him, kissing his cheek. “I can still see you, can’t I?”

  “Close your eyes, then.”

  And tempt visions of last night, which would make reaching for him a matter of life and death? “I think I’ll keep them open. And my leg feels much more comfortable now, thank you.”

 

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