Caroline Anderson, Sara Morgan, Josie Metcalfe, Jennifer Taylor

by Brides of Penhally Bay Vol. 01 (lit)

  She’d forgotten how tall he was, how imposing. He topped six feet two and his shoulders were broad and powerful. Looking at him now, she had to force herself not to retreat to the safety of Reception. ‘It’s not a joke and if I’m interrupting your surgery, it’s your fault. You wouldn’t answer my letters. I had no other way of getting in touch with you. And this needn’t take long.’

  He gripped the edge of the desk and his knuckles whitened. ‘Do you really think you can leave without explanation and then walk back in here and end our marriage with a five-minute conversation?’ His eyes blazed with anger and his voice rose. ‘Is that what you think?’

  Startled by his unexpected loss of control, Amy flinched. She hadn’t thought he’d cared so much. Or was he angry because she’d chosen to confront him in his place of work? ‘Don’t shout—there are patients in Reception. They’ll gossip.’

  ‘Gossip? It’s a little late to be worrying about gossip.’ But he dropped back into his seat, threw her a dark, smouldering glance and then raked both hands through his glossy, dark hair. Several strands immediately flopped back over his forehead and she felt her breath catch.

  The yearning to touch him was so powerful that she had to clasp her hands behind her back to prevent herself from reaching out and sliding her hands into his hair.

  As if sensing her inner struggle, his gaze caught hers and held for a moment, his eyes darkening in a way that was achingly familiar. The atmosphere in the room shifted dangerously and awareness throbbed between them, drawing them into a tense, silent communication that said far more than words ever could.

  Amy felt the instant response of her body. She felt her stomach quiver and her limbs warm.

  It was still there, that inexplicable attraction that had pulled them together with magnetic force from the moment they’d met.

  Which meant that she had to get this over with. Quickly. Trying to ignore the insidious curl of feminine awareness deep in her pelvis, Amy gritted her teeth and backed towards the door.

  This was why she’d gone so far away. She’d known that only by putting an ocean between them would she be able to resist the unbelievably powerful chemistry that knotted them together.

  She had to leave.

  Fast.

  ‘Marco—it’s all history, now. Let’s not make this more painful than it has to be.’

  ‘You’re the one who made the whole thing painful, Amy.’ His voice was suddenly dangerously quiet, but before he could say any more the door opened and Kate flew in.

  ‘Marco, you have to see little Michelle right now! I’ve explained to your first patient that they’re going to have to wait. I’m sorry.’ She threw an apologetic look towards Amy. ‘Is there any chance that you can grab a cup of coffee upstairs in the staffroom or something?’

  Amy watched as Marco straightened his shoulders and wrenched back control. But his mind obviously wasn’t on his work because for the briefest of moments his expression was blank. ‘Michelle?’ He said the name as if he’d never heard it before and Kate looked momentarily startled, as if detailed explanations were uncommon in their working relationship.

  ‘Yes, Michelle! What’s the matter with you?’ Then she glanced at Amy and blushed slightly, as if she’d just realised what might be the matter. ‘Michelle Watson. Carol said that she was off colour last night but she’s suddenly gone downhill. She called an ambulance but they said that they’d be twenty minutes because they’re stuck behind a gritting lorry. Honestly, Europe can have feet of snow and manage fine, but if we have so much as a dusting the entire country grinds to a halt. I’m tempted to go and organise them myself.’

  ‘Michelle Watson. Of course. Michelle.’ Marco uncoiled his lean, powerful body and rose to his feet again but there were lines of strain around his eyes. ‘Bring her in.’

  ‘Watson?’ Amy remembered that Carol Watson had just delivered when she’d left and she glanced at Marco as Kate hurried out of the room. ‘Carol’s baby girl?’

  ‘She isn’t a baby any more.’ His tone was flat and he didn’t glance in her direction as if he was trying to get his mind firmly on the job. ‘You’ve been gone two years and I don’t have time to brief you on everything that has been happening in the village during your long absence.’ He moved across the consulting room. ‘You left, Amy. You made your choice.’

  ‘Yes, but—’ She broke off, wrestling against an instinctive desire to defend herself. What would he say if she told him the truth? Told him that she’d had to leave. That she’d done it for him. But she knew that she couldn’t. She could never, ever tell him the truth because if he knew the truth then everything would become even more complicated. ‘That’s right.’ She felt horrible. Just horrible. There was so much she wanted to say but she couldn’t say any of it. ‘I left.’ Her voice shook but his swift glance was unsympathetic.

  ‘Go and get a cup of coffee. Or just leave. It’s what you’re good at.’

  ‘I can’t leave until we’ve talked.’

  He yanked open a cupboard and removed a pulse oximeter. ‘Then you’re going to have to wait until I have time to see you,’ he growled. ‘I think the current waiting time for an appointment with me is a week. Ask the girls at Reception. They just might be able to fit you in.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE door flew open and Kate hurried back into the room with Carol, who was carrying the toddler wrapped in a soft, pink blanket. A sulky-looking teenager followed them, her pretty face half hidden by a thick layer of make-up.

  Amy was on the point of leaving the room and then she looked at the toddler and saw at a glance that Kate had been right to interrupt them. The child was fighting for each breath.

  ‘Oh, Dr Avanti.’ There was panic in Carol’s voice. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. She’s had this cold and I was up in the night with her and then this morning she just seemed so much worse. Her little chest was heaving so I panicked and called the ambulance but they’re stuck on the coast road and you always know what to do so I just thought I’d come and take a chance in case—’

  ‘Calma. Try and be calm, Carol.’ Marco’s voice was gentle and reassuring as his gaze rested on the child, his eyes sharp and observant. ‘You did the right thing to come.’

  Amy stepped forward, her own problems momentarily forgotten. ‘Let me help. What do you want me to do, Marco?’

  He glanced at her and then gave a brief nod. ‘Let’s give her some oxygen straight away.’

  Amy located the oxygen and mask. ‘Do you want me to set up a nebuliser?’

  ‘To begin with I’ll give her a beta 2 agonist via a spacer. It is better at this age than a nebuliser.’ He turned back to the child and stroked his hand over the child’s neck, palpating the neck muscles with gentle fingers. ‘Michelle, what have you been doing, angelo mia? Are you worrying your poor mother?’

  No one would have guessed that only moments earlier he’d been braced for a fight. All the hardness had gone from his tone and there was no trace of the anger that had been simmering inside him. Instead, he was kind and approachable, his smooth, confident movements removing the panic from the situation.

  He’d always been amazing with children, Amy thought numbly as she handed him the oxygen mask. They found his strength reassuring and responded to his gentleness. Strength and gentleness. A killer combination. When she’d first met him he’d been working as a paediatrician and his skills in that field were very much in evidence as he assessed the little girl.

  To someone who didn’t know better it might have looked as though he was simply comforting the child and putting her at ease, but Amy watched the movement of his fingers and the direction of his gaze and knew that in that short space of time he’d checked the little girl’s respirations, her pulse rate and the degree of wheezing.

  Carol cuddled the child and looked at him helplessly. ‘She ate a tiny bit of breakfast and then she was sick everywhere. After that she was just too breathless to eat. I’ve never seen her this bad.’

  The teenager
slumped against the wall and rolled her eyes. ‘For goodness’ sake Mum, stop panicking.’ She broke off and coughed a few times. ‘You make everything into such a drama.’

  ‘Don’t you tell me to stop panicking, Lizzie,’ Carol snapped angrily. ‘You were giving her breakfast! You should have noticed sooner that she wasn’t breathing properly!’

  ‘Well, I’m not a bloody doctor, am I?!’ The tone was moody and defiant, but Amy saw the worry in the teenager’s eyes and remembered that this was Carol’s second marriage. Presumably Lizzie was her child from her previous marriage.

  Clearly things weren’t altogether harmonious in the household.

  ‘She is here now and that is what is important.’ Swiftly but calmly, Marco reached for the hand-held pulse oximeter, attached the probe to the child’s finger. ‘I want her as quiet as possible so that I can examine her properly. You will have a nice cuddle with your mama, Michelle. I’m going to help you with your breathing, tesoro.’

  Tesoro.

  Trying not to remember that he’d called her the same thing in happier times, Amy looked at the pulse oximeter.

  ‘That’s a neat device.’ It was typical of Marco to have all the latest technology to hand, she mused silently. Oxygen, spacer, pulse oximeter. He may have chosen to move from paediatrics to general practice but he still insisted on having all the latest equipment.

  ‘It’s a very fast and reliable method of obtaining a reading.’ He glanced at Carol, immediately offering an explanation. ‘It tells me how much oxygen is in her blood. I’d like the level to be higher than it is. I’m going to give her something that will help her breathing.’

  Carol’s face was white and strained. ‘Is it her asthma again?’

  ‘Sì, it seems that way. She has had a virus and that can sometimes be a trigger.’ He connected a face mask to the mouthpiece of a spacer.

  ‘Michelle, I’m going to put this mask over your nose and mouth and I want you to just breathe normally.’ He settled the mask gently over the child’s face and actuated the inhaler. ‘Just breathe for me now. Good girl. We’ll start with this and see if this improves things.’

  Michelle stared up at him in terror, her breath coming in rapid, rasping gasps.

  Equally terrified, Carol rubbed her back gently. ‘It’s all right, darling. Dr Avanti is going to make you better. He always does, you know he does.’

  The little girl clawed at her face, trying to remove the mask, and Marco gently took her hand and squatted down so that he was level with the child. ‘Don’t pull it off, cucciola mia.’ His voice was deep and soothing. ‘This mask is going to help you breathe and I want you to try and relax and forget it is there. You’re going to listen to me instead of thinking of the mask. The mask is doing magic.’ Still stroking the child’s fingers with his own, he lifted his head and looked at Carol. ‘What’s her favourite story?’

  ‘Story? I—I don’t know…’

  ‘“Sleeping Beauty”,’ Lizzie muttered, and Amy glanced towards her, surprised.

  So she wasn’t as indifferent as she seemed, then.

  Assessing Michelle and sensing that Marco was going to choose to put a line in, Amy turned away and prepared an IV tray and then reached into the cupboard for hydrocortisone, which she was sure he was going to need.

  ‘Ah, “Sleeping Beauty”. That is my favourite, too.’ Marco gave a smile that would have captivated the most cynical princess and stroked the little girl’s blonde curls away from her face, his eyes flicking to her chest as he watched her breathing. ‘So now I will tell you my version of the story. Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess called Michelle who lived in a wonderful castle by the sea—Amy?’ His voice lowered. ‘Can you get me a 24-gauge needle and fifty milligrams of hydrocortisone? Normally I would try oral medication but if she’s vomiting, we’ll go straight to IV.’

  Their differences momentarily forgotten, Amy handed him the tray that she’d already prepared and he took it from her, still telling the story. ‘Princess Michelle was very loved by her mummy and daddy and they decided to give her a big party for her birthday. Everyone was invited.’ He was a natural storyteller, his Italian accent curling around the words as he calmed the child. She looked at him, clearly listening as he spoke, and Marco stroked the back of the little girl’s hand, searching for a vein. Then he gave a nod and looked at Amy. ‘Can you squeeze for me? Michelle, I’m just going to put a little tube into the back of your hand so that I can give you some extra medicine to make you feel better. More magic.’

  Amy stared at Michelle’s plump, tiny hand and was suddenly relieved that she wasn’t the one searching for a vein.

  Carol looked the other way, her teeth clamped on her lower lip. ‘There isn’t another doctor in the world I’d allow to do this,’ she muttered, screwing up her face in trepidation. ‘It’s only because you used to be a kids’ doctor and I know you’ve done it before. Her hands are so small, let alone her veins. I can’t even think about it.’

  Amy was inclined to agree.

  She never could have chosen paediatrics as a speciality.

  But Marco’s expression didn’t flicker and it was obvious that he wasn’t concerned. This was where he excelled—where he was most comfortable. ‘And Princess Michelle invited all her friends to her party and her big sister Princess Lizzie, who she loved very much.’ He lifted his head briefly and flashed a smile at Lizzie, who blushed furiously under his warm, approving gaze.

  ‘Michelle, you might feel a little scratch now.’ The movement of his fingers was deliberate and confident as he slid the tiny needle through the child’s skin and checked that he was in the vein. The child barely whimpered and Marco picked up the syringe of hydrocortisone, swiftly checked the ampoule and injected it into the child, barely pausing in his rendition of the story. ‘And it was the biggest and the best party that anyone had ever been to. Everyone was in pretty dresses and there was dancing and Princess Lizzie met a handsome prince.’

  ‘Not likely in boring old Penhally,’ Lizzie muttered, and then started to cough again.

  Marco dropped the empty syringe back onto the tray and lifted his gaze to the teenager. ‘The prince was in disguise, passing through on his way home to his castle.’ His eyes were amused and Amy watched as Lizzie gave a reluctant smile.

  It was impossible not to respond to him, Amy thought helplessly. He charmed everyone, whatever their age. And he did it all while managing a potentially serious asthma attack.

  Anyone who said that men were incapable of multi-tasking had never seen Marco dealing with an emergency. Perhaps that was one of the advantages of having spent so long in hospital medicine. Or perhaps he was just the sort of man who coped well under pressure.

  Carol was still watching him anxiously. ‘Will she have to go to hospital? My husband is waiting at the house to tell the ambulance where we are. Lizzie can run back and tell him what’s going on.’

  ‘Why me? Use the phone, Mum!’ Lizzie’s momentary good humour vanished and her tone was impatient. ‘It’s freezing out there!’

  ‘Why can’t you ever just help?’ Clearly at the end of her tether, Carol snapped, and then pressed her lips together. ‘All you ever think about is yourself!’

  ‘Well someone has to because you obviously don’t give a damn about me!’

  Carol gasped. ‘Elizabeth!!’

  ‘Oh, get off my back!’ Coughing again, Lizzie turned and stamped out of the consulting room, slamming the door behind her.

  Carol flinched, her face scarlet with embarrassment and anger. ‘As if I haven’t got enough on my plate,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘I’m very sorry about that. I just don’t know what’s happening to Lizzie. She’s undergone a complete personality change over the past few months. She used to be so sweet and loving. And she just adored Michelle. Now it’s like living with a hand grenade.’

  ‘She is a teenager,’ Amy said quietly, aware that Marco was writing a letter to the hospital and needed to concentrate.

  ‘She e
xplodes at the slightest thing, she’s out all hours and I never know where she is. She used to be top of her class and her marks have plummeted.’ Carol cuddled Michelle closer. ‘And she’s been mixing with those awful Lovelace children and everyone knows what they’re like. I see them on a Saturday night, just hanging around on the streets. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re taking drugs…’

  Reminded of the complexities of working in a community practice, Amy lifted a hand to her aching head and wondered how Marco managed to stay so relaxed.

  He tapped a key on the computer and glanced at Carol. ‘Have you spoken to the school about Lizzie?’

  ‘Twice. They just gave me a standard lecture about handling teenage girls.’

  The printer whirred into action. ‘How bad are her mood swings?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘I noticed she was coughing.’ He took the letter from the printer and signed it. ‘How long has she had that?’

  ‘Coughing?’ Carol looked a little startled. ‘I don’t know, really. A while, I think, now you mention it. Just an irritated sort of cough. I even asked her if she was smoking but she just gave me one of her looks and stomped out of the room.’

  Marco put the letter in an envelope and handed it to her. ‘Lizzie is reaching a difficult age, that’s true,’ he said softly. ‘Not quite a woman but no longer a child. Unsure of who she is. A little rebellion is natural and good.’

  ‘You think that’s all it is?’ The faith in Carol’s eyes surprised Amy. It was quite obvious that the woman was ready to believe anything Marco told her.

  ‘I think we should talk about it properly when there is more time.’ He slipped his pen back into his pocket. ‘For now your priority is Michelle. She has not improved as much as I would have liked so I want her to go to the hospital. In all probability she will be fine and we could monitor her here, but if we send her home, you will be worried.’ He gave an expressive shrug that betrayed his Latin heritage. ‘And you have already had enough worry for one day. So, we will send her to the hospital and then they can do the worrying. That will leave you free to give some attention to Lizzie.’