Leo.
Not professional Leo either. He’d ditched the white coat. He was wearing faded jeans and a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and the top buttons undone. His hair was tousled, as if he’d been walking in the wind.
Once upon a time she’d thought...she’d dreamed...
No.
‘Hey,’ she said, and summoned a smile—and saw relief wash his face.
He’d been worried. Despite her confusion the thought was comforting.
‘You’re okay?’ he asked, the crease deepening between his eyes. Oh, those eyes...
‘Nothing a good sleep won’t fix.’ She gazed up at him and saw her own weariness reflected. ‘Same for you, I bet. What are you doing here?’
‘Checking up on you. Victoir knocked back the offer of a district nurse.’
‘I don’t need the district nurse.’ She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘How can I need anything in this room?’
‘I guess you don’t,’ he admitted. He gazed around the bedroom. ‘Great setting.’
‘It’s ridiculous,’ she muttered, and decided she needed to be a bit assertive. She needed to sound as if she was in charge of her world again.
‘Really ridiculous,’ she emphasised. ‘Not just one but two—two!—chandeliers. For a bedroom. Ten guest chairs. Two settees and a window seat big enough to seat me, my dogs and a small army of minions—if I wanted minions, which, believe me, I don’t. And this carpet... Who chooses crimson and purple carpet with dragons woven into it? And it’s not even the main bedroom—I gather this was one of Yanni’s guest rooms. Urk.’
‘I guess you could learn to like it,’ he said neutrally, but there was a faint smile behind his eyes. He agreed with her, then. ‘Anna, now I’m here... Headache? Pain level? One to ten, you know the score.’
‘Two,’ she admitted. ‘Nothing an aspirin won’t fix.’
‘Let’s try paracetamol instead,’ he told her. ‘I gather aspirin is what was behind Carla’s bleed. She’s been taking it for arthritis and then bumped her head. On the medicine cabinet, her son says.’
‘Ouch.’ They both knew aspirin could make a small bleed worse. ‘But now...’ She couldn’t keep anxiety from her voice.
‘She’s awake and alert. She’s a bit confused but she knows people, events, and there’s no noticeable physical damage. Her son’s with her. She’s on her way to a full neurological assessment in Italy but she may well be in the clear.’
‘Oh, Leo, that’s wonderful.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ he said, and smiled and pulled up one of her overstuffed visitor chairs to sit beside her.
Which was discombobulating all on its own.
Leo. Beside her.
Get over it.
‘Where’s Victoir?’ she managed.
‘Do you care?’
‘He’s my...’ She hesitated. ‘Actually, I don’t know what he is. The boss of me? That’s what he’d like to think. I’m a bit over Victoir.’
‘Good for you. Are you going to sign the release so he can build his apartments?’
She stilled.
She hadn’t gone completely to bed. She’d put her head on the mound of glorious pillows and tucked the great crimson coverlet over her. Her yoga gear was pink and purple and covered her nicely.
She wanted more.
She wanted to be in crisp, professional work clothes. She didn’t want to be in a room lit by chandeliers and carpeted with dragons. Most of all, she wanted some sort of protection against this crazy situation, where on one hand she’d inherited power and on the other hand she had no power at all.
‘What’s that got to do with you?’ she asked, and then thought, I sound petty. He must have thought so, too, as his face hardened.
‘Everything. You turn this castle into apartments, you rip the heart out of my people.’
‘Why does that sound like the overstatement of the year?’
‘I’m not exaggerating. The castle takes up almost a quarter of the island. Your grandfather, your uncle and your cousin were appalling rulers but the islanders have accustomed themselves to this life for generations. The people should have risen up long ago but they haven’t. They won’t. And now... Turn the castle into a glorified gated community where the super-rich can fly in and fly out... Maybe there will be an uprising. I almost hope so, but it’ll take years, and meanwhile there’s nothing here. There’s no hope for the kids. This island needs help, Anna, and right now the only help available is from you.’
‘So how could I possibly help?’
‘By not being a Castlavaran.’
‘Don’t you get that I’m not?’ Enough. She shoved the coverlet back, folded her arms across her chest and glared.
His reaction wasn’t quite what she’d hoped. He looked totally distracted. ‘Great outfit,’ he said faintly, and the smile returned to his eyes.
‘I like pink.’ She folded her arms across her chest and glowered. ‘And purple.’
‘Why wouldn’t you? It’s amazing.’
‘Leo, the last thing I want is compliments,’ she snapped, and stood up.
Or tried to. The effects of the last twenty-four hours were still with her. She swayed.
Leo rose and caught her as she staggered. He lowered her gently so she was sitting on the side of the bed.
She should be thankful.
She wasn’t.
‘I just stood up too fast,’ she muttered.
‘I know. Anger makes us do all sorts of unwise things.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She had herself together again—a bit. Oh, she wished she wasn’t wearing pink and purple. More than that, she wished she was somewhere neutral, not in this ridiculous bedroom, and not feeling so defenceless. And, yes, angry.
‘Don’t mouth platitudes at me, Leo Aretino,’ she managed, anger growing. ‘For ten years you assumed I knew what you were talking about. That I was part of this system. You assumed my cousin’s, my uncle’s, my grandfather’s greed was not only known to me but that their actions were somehow partly my fault. It’s not my fault, Leo. So now... I’m not a Castlavaran but I’m stuck.
‘The terms of this inheritance are unequivocal. The money’s to be used for the castle’s upkeep. For my upkeep. Victoir’s plan is that he build the apartments, and nominally I holiday in one. The rest are for my so-called friends to join me. We can defend it by saying it’s “for my pleasure”. It’s a way we can close off the unsafe sections and keep the rest of the place functional, even economically viable, while I get on with my life. How else can I stop the whole place from falling down? The way Victoir presents it, I don’t see that I have much choice.’
‘You can look at options.’
‘As if I’d know what they are. So if you have any, tell me, Leo, and stop treating me as the enemy.’
‘I never—’
‘You did,’ she managed. She was so mad she was trembling. Was that still the residue from the bump on the head? Or residue from being dumped ten years ago. Who knew? Not her. ‘From the moment my mother told you her maiden name, you’ve treated me like some form of alien, more, one capable of contaminating anyone who came near. So now... I accept this is your country and your concern. You don’t like Victoir’s option? Give me another.’
Her anger was almost a tangible thing. There was so much past history here, betrayal, hurt—and a love that had once consumed her.
Get over it, she told herself. Listen.
Without prejudice.
‘There is a way,’ Leo said, his calm voice trying to break through her obvious fury. ‘Anna, can you listen? I’m not sure, but there might be.’
What was he about to say? Break the Trust? Martin had said it was inviolable.
‘Like what?’ Her anger was still obvious but she couldn’t help it.
&nbs
p; ‘Using Victoir’s idea,’ he said, and she blinked.
‘The apartments.’
‘No.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a couple of breaths. Calm or not, he sounded as if was holding himself in rigid control. Maybe the tension she was feeling between them wasn’t one-sided?
If so, good, she thought, and then had the grace to feel ashamed. Yes, he’d dumped her but she’d gone on to have a pretty good life. Maybe her anger was out of proportion. But still, he’d hurt her. She wanted him to acknowledge that.
But he was now intent on his plan. Focussed. For him the past was obviously well behind him.
‘Anna, maybe it’s a pipe dream,’ he told her. ‘It came to me on the way here, from something Carla said and from Victoir’s plans. But it’d take someone with a massive social conscience.’
‘And how can a Castlavaran have a social conscience?’ It was an angry mutter.
‘You’ve said you’re not a Castlavaran.’
‘You don’t believe that—or is your memory still selective?’ She glowered and then decided to be honest. To lay it all out there.
‘Leo, from the moment you told me you couldn’t marry me, you acted like you could hardly remember that my name is Raymond. I remember, though, and it still hurts. I know it’s stupid, but there it is. I even talked to our clinic’s psychologist about it. How needful was that? She says it’s tied up with my father walking away, my mother rejecting me over and over—and then you doing the same thing. She says I need to focus forward, not backward. So now... You judging me on my mother’s name looks backward to me. Leo, you’ve checked I’m not dying. I assume you’ve routed Victoir because he’s not here with his horrid documents. So what’s left? You can trust me with your pipe dream or you can leave. Take your pick.’
‘Anna—’
‘Just do it, Leo.’
He closed his eyes and she could see him almost visibly brace himself.
When he opened them again he’d changed. His look was one of pure challenge.
‘As you like,’ he said formally, as if what he was about to say was business and nothing more. What had been between them in the past was—of course—once again to be forgotten. He sat again so he could talk to her at eye level.
Doctor to patient? Not so much.
‘So here it is,’ he said. ‘I believe it’s possible. Within the terms of the Trust you have a chance to do something spectacular.’
‘What?’ She wasn’t bemused. She was still just plain angry.
‘You could turn part of this castle into a hospital. You could provide a base for us to expand and the facilities for us to give first-class treatment. You could be the first Castlavaran who cares. You could prove me—and all of this island—wrong.’
CHAPTER FIVE
TO SAY SHE was hornswoggled was an understatement.
‘A hospital.’ She managed to say it but it was a word, not a concept.
‘I know,’ he said, gently now, as if he still thought she was ill. ‘It’s a crazy idea. I guess you’re either a Castlavaran, in which case you’ve had greed and indolence bred into you, or you’re an English doctor who wants nothing to do with your inheritance because it’s twenty years until you can claim it. Either way, Tovahna is the loser. I’m sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean to throw this at you tonight. But I just said...’
‘Yeah,’ she said, dazed. ‘You just said...’
‘It’s something you could think about when you go back to England,’ he said. Could she hear a sliver of hope?
‘But...’ She shook her head and winced. ‘First of all you’re still being insulting. I’m either greedy or I don’t care. And if I’m neither of those then I’ll fall on what has to be a preposterous plan. Turn a castle into a hospital?’ Oh, her head hurt.
These weeks since she’d heard of this incredible inheritance hadn’t been wasted. She’d learned more of Tovahna than she’d believed possible. She knew the poverty that had kept the people in their places for a thousand years. But Martin and his colleagues had also checked the terms of her inheritance. They’d found it rigidly structured so the heir couldn’t make changes.
Money was to be spent for the maintenance of the castle or the welfare of the incumbent. For nothing else.
Incumbent. That was her.
In twenty years maybe she could hand the vast wealth over to some central agency, gift people their own land, do some good. But not before that. Martin had spelled it out.
‘The Trust’s in the hands of a firm of conservative lawyers in Milan. It’ll provide you with a sweet income but there’s nothing more to be done for years. Stay home and wait.’
‘How...?’ she said now, in a small voice because speaking of such a thing seemed so immense, so impossible that even saying it aloud was ludicrous. ‘How could I turn the castle into a hospital? How could I possibly fit that around the terms of the Trust?’
And it seemed Leo had an answer.
‘The same way Victoir’s proposing converting the place into apartments,’ he told her. ‘The way he’s proposing getting around the Trust is that you’d nominally have one set aside for your personal use, and the others would be deemed as being built for your guests. Your guests would pay a hefty price for the privilege but that wouldn’t matter. They’d be here for your pleasure. So a hospital...’
‘You’re saying I could use a hospital? Have the hospital for my own personal use? I’d need to bump my head once a day. More.’
He didn’t smile. The intent look didn’t fade.
‘That wouldn’t work. There’s no way that’d fit the terms of the Trust. What could work...’ Once again, a deep breath, as if what he was about to say was so huge he could scarcely believe he was saying it. And when he finally said it, she could understand why.
‘The only way it could work was if this hospital itself was your life,’ he said. ‘You’d need to live here—really live here—and the hospital would need to be as important to you as the over-the-top sports cars your cousin used to collect. They’re gathering dust in the massive garages he had built for them. He could hardly use them because the roads here are so bad. With a little gumption he could have had the roads repaired so he could use them—that would have helped the islanders and been within the terms of the Trust—but that would have taken sense he didn’t have. But, Anna, if your passion, your life was a medical centre, to serve not only you but this whole island, then the lawyers in Milan must surely agree. But you would need to live here. Make Tovahna your home. Be the first Castlavaran in generations to make a difference to your people.’
‘My people.’
‘They are your people.’
‘I’m not a Castlavaran.’ How many times did she have to say it?
‘Don’t quibble, Anna,’ he said roughly, and she thought she detected emotion underlying the tone. How? Because she knew this man. She knew him so well...
Yet she didn’t know him at all. He was a stranger, and he was suggesting the preposterous.
What was he asking? He wanted her to stay here, by herself, with the beastly Victoir. He wanted her to forget everything that had happened between the pair of them. He wanted...the impossible.
‘I want to go home.’ It was a childish thing to say but it was what came out when she opened her mouth. And Leo looked at her as if it was what he’d expected all along.
‘Of course you do. Run back to England with your inheritance and forget about us. Well, at least I’ve tried.’
‘You call that trying?’ The words were out before she could stop them as anger surged, a swift and unexpected response to his look of disgust.
‘What do you mean?’ His voice was cold and that made her angrier.
Her legs were dangling over the edge of the stupid over-the-top bed. Her feet were bare. Despite her pink and purple, she felt exposed. Vulnerable.
And still angry.
‘I mean I’ve just been hit on the head,’ she managed. ‘I’m still tired and headachy. I’m also coming to terms with an inheritance that’s made me feel like I’ve been hit by a sledgehammer. A golden sledgehammer, agreed, but a sledgehammer regardless. Add to that I’m confronted by an ex-fiancé who hurt me. I’m stuck in a thousand-year-old castle that feels like the set of a gothic movie. Plus I have a creepy administrator who comes in here with his indecipherable documents and who takes me underground without a hard hat and almost kills me, just to prove it’s dangerous so I’ll sign his documents fast. Yeah, I get that, I’m not stupid. And he doesn’t even knock when he comes into my bedroom. So now you say I should turn the castle into a hospital and I say I want to go home and you act like what else could be expected of a rich, indolent, money-grubbing Castlavaran? Well, I’m not even a Castlavaran and, Leo Aretino, you can take your castle and your hospital and you can stick it!’
And she picked up one of her massive down-filled pillows and hurled it at him.
It hit him on the chest and slid harmlessly to his knees.
He placed it aside as if it was nothing and she glared and wanted the floor to open and swallow her.
Or Leo.
He was in her bedroom. In her chair.
He was far, far too close.
‘Get out,’ she said.
‘I may just have put my case badly.’
‘I don’t care. Get out.’
The door opened.
Victoir.
‘Get out,’ she said again, only this time it was said in unison—with Leo—and it was the break they needed. Or she needed.
Nothing like a common enemy.
‘I just...’ Victoir started, and she decided it was about time she stopped being Victoir’s doormat. Wasn’t he her employee? Whatever, at least she could direct some of her pent-up frustration at him.
‘You didn’t knock. Basic rules, Victoir. Please leave.’
‘If the doctor’s finished...’
‘He hasn’t finished. He’s explaining something to me that I wish to have explained. He’ll see himself out when he’s done. Please close the door behind you, and if you walk into my bedroom again without knocking I’ll ask the lawyers in Milan to have you removed by yesterday.’
Second Chance with Her Island Doc Page 7