Caroline Anderson, Sara Morgan, Josie Metcalfe, Jennifer Taylor

by Brides of Penhally Bay Vol. 01 (lit)

  Why had she ever thought that seeing him face to face was a good idea?

  ‘You still have patients waiting.’

  ‘I’ll see my patients. Then I’ll buy you lunch at the Smugglers’ Inn. We can talk then.’

  He couldn’t have picked a place more public. ‘You want to be the subject of gossip?’

  ‘Gossip doesn’t worry me and never will. Kate will make you a cup of coffee and find you somewhere to sit. Then I’ll give you a lift.’

  She gave a faint smile. ‘The Maserati has learned to cope with snow?’

  ‘She is moody and unpredictable, that’s true, but it is just a question of handling her correctly.’ His eyes held hers and she wondered briefly whether he was talking about the car or her.

  ‘You don’t need to give me a lift. I’ll wander around the village for an hour or so and then meet you up there. The walk up the coast road will do me good. But I’m going back to London tonight.’

  His eyes narrowed slightly and his expression was unreadable. ‘So that means that you have plenty of time for lunch. Twelve-thirty. Be there or this time I’ll come looking for you.’

  The Smugglers’ Inn was perched near the edge of the cliff on the coast road, a short drive out of Penhally.

  The Maserati gave a throaty growl as Marco turned into the car park. He turned off the engine and sat for a moment, breathing in the scent of leather. Usually the car calmed him but today he felt nothing, his body too tense after his encounter with Amy.

  With a soft curse he locked the car and walked towards the pub, distracted for a moment by the wild crash of the waves on the rocks below. The temperature had dropped and Marco stood for a moment, trying to formulate a plan, but his normally sharp brain refused to co-operate and he suddenly realised that he had no idea what he was going to do or say.

  The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. Of all the women who’d wanted to settle down with him over the years, he’d finally picked one who was wedded to her career and wasn’t interested in having children.

  He frowned. Except that she had been interested in having children. More than interested. At the time, he’d assumed that her longing for a family stemmed from the disappointing relationship that she’d apparently had with her own mother. Perhaps he’d been wrong about that. Perhaps he’d been wrong about all of it.

  It was true that people changed their minds, but still…

  He should give her a divorce, he told himself grimly, because that was clearly what she wanted and, anyway, she’d been gone for two years. What was there to salvage?

  Anger exploded inside him once again and he took a deep breath of cold, calming air before turning towards the pub. With only a slight hesitation he pushed open the heavy door and walked inside.

  Warmth, laughter and the steady buzz of conversation wrapped itself around him and drew him in. Immediately his eyes scanned the bar, searching for Amy.

  Would she be there or had she run? Was she now shivering on the station platform, waiting for the train that would take her away from him?

  How badly did she want the divorce?

  And then he saw her, a slight figure, huddled on her own by the blazing fire, still wearing her coat and scarf as if all the heat in the world wouldn’t warm her. She looked out of place and vulnerable. Her dark hair had been smoothed behind one ear and Marco felt something stir inside him as he remembered all the times he’d kissed her slender neck, the tempting hollow of her throat…

  He dragged his eyes from her neckline, frustrated by the unexpectedly powerful surge of lust that gripped him.

  So, people were wrong about some things, he thought bitterly. Time didn’t always heal. In his case, time hadn’t healed at all. Despite everything, Amy still affected him more than any woman he’d ever met.

  His jaw clenched and he stood for a moment, feeling the now familiar tension knot inside him. Why? Was it because she was the only woman who had walked away from him? Was this all about his ego?

  Was he really that shallow?

  And then the lust was replaced by anger and he didn’t even try and subdue it because over the past two years he’d learned that anger was the easiest emotion to deal with. Anger was so much better than pain and disillusionment.

  Back in control, he strolled across the room and nodded to the man behind the bar. ‘Tony. Give me something long and cold that isn’t going to dull my senses.’

  The landlord’s gaze flickered towards Amy, who was still staring blankly into the fire. ‘Looks to me as though you might need something stronger.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me. I’ve always found that my diagnostic abilities are better when I’m sober, and I’m on call. Has she ordered?’ No point in pretending that his ex-wife hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere with no warning. The locals had eyes and he had no doubt that they’d be using them.

  Tony reached for a glass and snapped the cap off a couple of bottles. ‘Arrived ten minutes ago. Paid for a grapefruit juice, made polite conversation for about three seconds and then slunk into the corner like a wounded animal. Hasn’t touched her drink. If you want my opinion, she’s not a happy woman. You might want to use your famous doctoring skills to find out what’s bothering her.’

  Marco’s long fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the bar. He knew exactly what was bothering her. She wanted a quick and easy divorce and he wasn’t playing ball.

  The landlord poured the contents of the bottles into the glass. ‘Here you go. One doctor-on-duty fruit cocktail. Full of vitamins, totally devoid of alcohol. No charge. If you want to eat, let me know. Cornish pasties came out of the oven five minutes ago and the fish and chips are good, but I’m guessing you don’t want to feast on cholesterol in front of your patients.’

  Marco gave a faint smile, took the drink and strolled across to the fire. ‘Sorry I’ve kept you waiting.’ He put his glass down on the table and shrugged off his coat. ‘Our patients haven’t quite got the hang of developing ailments that can be seen easily within the allotted time.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She looked across at him, the flickering fire sending red lights through her dark hair. Away from the pressure of the surgery he noticed that her face was paler than ever and there were dark shadows under her eyes. And she’d definitely lost weight since he’d last seen her.

  He studied her thoughtfully.

  For a woman following her chosen path of career over motherhood, she didn’t appear either settled or happy.

  Was something wrong with her? Something other than the prospect of a divorce? Had she picked up some tropical disease while she’d been working in Africa?

  ‘So…’ he lifted his drink ‘…tell me about your work. Is it hard?’ Was that why she was so pale? Did her work explain the weight loss? Had she been ill?

  ‘Sorry?’ She glanced at him, her expression blank, as if she hadn’t heard him.

  ‘Your work. The thing you care most about, remember, tesoro?’ It was hard not to keep the irony out of his voice. ‘How is this amazing career that was so much more important to you than marriage and children?’

  ‘My career?’ She gave a little start, as though she’d forgotten that she even had a career. Then she straightened her shoulders, her gaze returning to the fire. ‘Yes. I was running a malaria project.’

  ‘And that was interesting? Fulfilling?’ Why wouldn’t she look at him?

  ‘Yes.’

  Marco felt the anger surge again and struggled against the temptation to slide his hand around the back of her neck and force her to meet his gaze. ‘Worth sacrificing our marriage for?’

  Her breathing quickened and her eyes slid to his. ‘Our marriage was something separate.’

  ‘No.’ He growled the word and noticed a few heads turn towards them. Why had he decided to have this discussion in a pub? ‘It wasn’t separate, Amy. You ended our marriage because you chose a career over family. It’s that simple.’

  ‘There was nothing simple about it. Keep your voice down. People are lookin
g at us, Marco.’ She reached for her drink and her hair slid forward, framing her cheek. ‘You chose to do this in a public place so can we at least try and keep this civilised?’

  ‘Civilised?’ Heat exploded inside him, the flame of his anger fuelled by her unreasonable calm. ‘You ripped our marriage to shreds with your bare hands. Forgive me, amore, if I don’t feel completely civilised. I feel—’ He broke off, his fluency in English momentarily stunted by emotion, but before he could find the words to express his feelings she half rose to her feet.

  ‘This conversation is pointless. I shouldn’t have come.’

  Grimly determined not to let her leave, Marco reached out a hand and caught her arm. ‘Sit down. You’re the one who wanted this conversation.’

  ‘This isn’t conversation, Marco, this is confrontation.’ She was breathing quickly. ‘You’re losing your temper and I simply wanted us to discuss the facts.’

  ‘I’m not losing my temper.’ He drew in a breath, struggling to keep his tone level. ‘I have a question.’

  She sank back onto her chair, her beautiful eyes wary. ‘What?’

  ‘Do you think about us? About what we had? Have you forgotten what we shared?’

  Her swift intake of breath and the brief flash of awareness in her eyes was sufficient answer. ‘Marco—’

  The phone in his pocket rang and he cursed fluently in Italian and slid it out of his pocket, wishing at that moment that he had chosen a different career path. One that would have permitted him five minutes’ free time with the guarantee of no disturbance. He checked the number and sighed. ‘That’s Kate. She wouldn’t ring unless it was important.’

  ‘It’s fine. Take the call.’

  Frustrated that he’d been interrupted in what had to have been the most important part of the conversation, Marco hit the button and spoke to the practice manager, aware of Amy’s eyes on his face.

  Never before had he so badly wanted his work to go away.

  And then Kate spoke and immediately she had his attention.

  By the time he ended the call, Amy was no longer his priority.

  She looked at him expectantly. ‘Something bad?’

  ‘The Knight boys have gone missing.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Eddie is only five years old.’ He reached for his coat just as the door to the pub flew open and a little boy stood there, breathing hard.

  ‘Dr Avanti! You have to come now! Alfie and I went to play on the rocks and Eddie followed because he always tags along and then he slipped and now we can’t wake him up and he’s bleeding everywhere and—’ He broke off, his breath hitching as he spoke. ‘We think he’s dead, Dr Avanti. He’s dead!’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘CALMA. Calm down, Sam.’ Marco squeezed the boy’s shoulder and squatted down so that he was level with him. ‘Tell me where they are. Slowly.’

  ‘We were playing pirates. Mum said we weren’t to go near the rocks but we went anyway and Eddie followed and now…’ Sam’s face crumpled. ‘He’s dead. There’s blood everywhere.’

  Marco put an arm around the boy and spoke softly to him.

  Amy couldn’t hear what he said but it had a positive effect on Sam, who straightened his shoulders and stopped crying, his gaze trusting as he looked up at Marco. ‘You mean that? Really?’

  Marco nodded and let go of the boy. ‘And now I want you to show me where they are.’ He rose to his feet and noticed Amy. ‘Stay here. Promise me you won’t leave until we’ve finished this conversation.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Already on his way to the door with Sam, Marco frowned at her. ‘I can’t have a conversation while I’m administering first aid.’

  ‘I’m coming to help you,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m a doctor, too, remember?’

  Marco’s jaw tensed. ‘I thought you couldn’t wait to leave this place?’ His tone was rough and his eyes scanned her briefly. ‘You’re not dressed to scramble down cliffs.’

  ‘I’m fine. We’re wasting time, Marco.’

  ‘Hurry up or they’ll have no blood left!’ Sam was still in the doorway, his eyes huge and worried. ‘I’ll show you where they are.’

  Marco glanced towards the bar. ‘Tony—call the coastguard and let them know what’s happening. If it’s serious we might need the helicopter to lift them off the rocks.’

  Sam sprinted from the pub to the steep, narrow path that led down to the rocky cove below. ‘Come on! Come on!’ he urged them.

  Amy didn’t hear Marco’s reply because she was too busy trying to keep her balance on the path. The wind had risen and now whipped her hair across her face, obscuring her vision. She knew just how steep the path was because it had been a favourite of hers as a child. The cove below was rocky and dangerous and held just the right amount of wicked appeal for an adventurous child.

  Ahead of her, Marco covered the distance with sure, confident strides, drawing away from her, leaving her only the occasional reassuring glimpse of his broad shoulders.

  She couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or sorry that their conversation had been interrupted yet again.

  It was obvious that Marco was equally frustrated by the interruptions. The question was whether he was frustrated enough to just agree to the divorce and let her walk out of Penhally before nightfall.

  Did he believe her claim that she’d chosen a career over marriage and children?

  Resisting the temptation to hurry because haste might result in her crashing onto the beach and becoming another casualty, Amy followed more slowly and finally clambered over the huge boulders that guarded the entrance to the cove. In the summer it was a favourite place for tourists who came with their nets and their buckets to explore the rock pools. In winter it was a wild and dangerous place and the sudden drop in the temperature had made the rocky beach particularly deadly.

  Jagged rocks glistened black with sea spray and Amy glanced across and saw the boys. One lay still, the other sitting beside him, his face covered in blood.

  Sam and Marco were already there and Amy picked her way across the rocks to join them.

  ‘We didn’t mean him to die. We didn’t mean him to die. Do something, Dr Avanti,’ Alfie whispered, his whole body shaking and juddering as he fixed his terrified stare on the inert form of his little brother. ‘We didn’t know he’d followed us and then I tried to take him back but he slipped and banged his head really hard. And when I tried to get to him, I slipped and hit my head, too. Then he stopped talking. I couldn’t get him to answer me.’ He started to sob pitifully and Sam started to cry, too. He caught Marco’s eyes and took a shuddering breath.

  ‘It will be all right, Alfie,’ he said in a wobbly voice. ‘We’ve got to be strong and try and help. What do you want us to do, Dr Avanti?’

  Marco was on his knees beside the still body of the little boy. ‘Just sit there for a moment, Sam. He isn’t dead, Alfie. I can tell you for sure that he isn’t dead.’

  Amy knelt down beside Marco, wincing slightly as the sharp rocks took a bite out of her knees. ‘Is he conscious?’

  ‘No.’ Marco was checking the child’s scalp, nose and ears, searching for injury. And then the child gave a little moan and his eyes drifted open. ‘All right. Well, that’s good. He’s drowsy. Obviously knocked out, from the boys’ description.’ His fingers probed gently. ‘He’s got a nasty haematoma on the back of his skull. I can’t be sure that he doesn’t have neck injuries.’

  ‘Is he going to die?’ Alfie’s voice shook and Marco lifted his head and looked at him.

  ‘No. He’s not going to die.’ His voice was firm and confident. ‘You did the right thing to send Sam up to the pub. Good boy. Well done.’

  Alfie looked at him, clearly doubtful that he’d done anything worthy of praise, and Amy noticed fresh blood oozing from the cut on his scalp.

  ‘I’ll ring the coastguard and then look at Alfie.’ Amy started to dig for her phone but Marco shook his head.

  ‘There’s no signal on this beach. We can’t car
ry him back up that path without possibly making things worse. Sam.’ Marco’s gaze slid to the other boy who was huddled next to Alfie, a look of terror in his eyes. ‘I want you to go back up to the pub and tell Tony that we need a helicopter. Do you understand me?’

  Sam shot to his feet and nodded, his face white and terrified. ‘Helicopter. I can do that. I can do that, Dr Avanti.’

  ‘Good boy. Go. And be careful on the rocks. We’ve had enough casualties here for one day.’ Marco turned back to the child. ‘Eddie? Can you hear me? He’s cold, Amy. Wet from the sea and freezing in this weather. If we’re not careful it’s going to be hypothermia that is our biggest problem.’ He cursed softly. ‘I have no equipment. Nothing.’

  Next to them, Alfie started to sob again, the tears mingling with the blood that already stained his cheeks. ‘He’s going to die. I know he’s going to die. He chose me a really great Christmas present. I don’t want him to die. This is all my fault. We’re not supposed to be down on this beach anyway.’

  Concerned about the amount of blood on Alfie’s head, Amy made a soothing noise and examined his scalp. As she balanced on the slippery rocks, searching for the source of the bleeding, she suddenly developed a new admiration for paramedics. Then she saw blood blossom under her fingers and pulled off her gloves and took the scarf from her neck. ‘I’m going to press on this for a minute, Alfie, and that should stop the bleeding. They can have a better look at it at the hospital.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to hospital. I want my mum—Ow!’ Alfie winced. ‘That really hurts.’

  ‘You’ve cut yourself,’ Amy murmured. ‘I’m just going to put some pressure on it.’

  ‘I don’t care about me.’ Alfie’s eyes were fixed on his brother. ‘If we’d stayed in the house it never would have happened. I wish we’d done that. I’m never playing on the beach again. I’m just going to stick to computers.’ He sobbed and sobbed and Amy tightened the scarf and then slid her arms round him, cuddling him against her.