Caroline Anderson, Sara Morgan, Josie Metcalfe, Jennifer Taylor

by Brides of Penhally Bay Vol. 01 (lit)

  The tears diluted his anger and he gave a soft curse and turned away from her, guilt tearing through him. ‘Mi dispiace. I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Don’t do that.’ He hated it when women cried, although to be fair to her, she’d never done that to him before. He stared moodily down at the waves crashing onto the rocks, feeling as though his body and mind were under the same steady assault as the coastline. ‘If you truly don’t love me enough then there is nothing to be done.’ This was entirely new territory for him. In the past he’d been the one to tell a woman that a relationship was over—that he didn’t love her enough.

  Only now was he discovering that it wasn’t an easy thing to hear.

  He glanced towards her and wondered why, if she didn’t love him, she looked so utterly, utterly lost and miserable. ‘You’ve changed so much.’

  ‘Perhaps I have. Didn’t you always say that women are sometimes difficult to understand? That we think in different ways?’

  Marco gave a twisted smile, bitterly amused at his own arrogance. To think that he’d once thought that he understood women. Amy had long since proved that not to be the case. ‘So, after two years of thinking in your very different way, you decided to turn up and ask for a divorce.’

  ‘We’ve been apart for two years.’

  ‘And that’s some sort of magic figure? If you were expecting me to smile and sign, you picked the wrong man to marry and divorce.’ His mouth tightened. ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned this before, but I don’t believe in divorce.’

  ‘Surely that depends on the marriage. You don’t want to be married to someone who doesn’t love you. It’s time to get on with our lives, Marco. I can pursue my career. You can find someone else. You can marry someone else who will give you a whole houseful of children.’

  Was that what he wanted?

  He’d only ever imagined this house full of his and Amy’s children. Did he want children with another woman?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE phone rang and Marco let out a stream of Italian, clearly incensed at being interrupted yet again. His eyes glittered dangerously and he glared at the phone as if his anger alone should be enough to silence it.

  ‘Answer it, Marco,’ Amy said wearily. ‘It’s probably someone else whose life needs saving.’

  He was angry with her. So angry with her.

  And intellectually he was outmanoeuvring her at every step, pouncing on holes in her argument like the most ruthless trial lawyer. And there were plenty of holes. Her defence was thin and full of inconsistencies, she knew that, but she hadn’t expected to be on trial long enough for it to matter. She’d expected a quick conversation and a rapid exit. She hadn’t expected him to argue with her.

  She hadn’t expected him to care enough to argue and she certainly hadn’t expected him to ask if she’d loved him.

  That had been the most difficult lie of all.

  And what now? Was he going to let her go?

  Was he going to find another woman to share his heart and have his children?

  The thought of another woman living in this house, living with Marco, brought a lump to her throat.

  She wasn’t going to think about that right now.

  Grateful for the brief respite offered by the phone, she watched as he strode across the room and lifted the handset, his movements purposeful. He was a man who was focused and didn’t waste time, hence the reason he was able to cope with such a punishing workload without crumbling under the pressure.

  ‘Nick? Problems?’ He didn’t even bother to disguise his impatience at the interruption and Amy winced slightly, wondering what the senior partner in the practice was thinking about her sudden unexpected return. Was he cursing her for distracting his partner when they were so busy?

  It was obvious from the conversation that Nick was asking Marco about a patient and Marco sprawled into the nearest chair and gave the information that was needed.

  He was never given any peace, Amy thought to herself, listening as he and Nick debated different courses of action. But he never tried to hide from his responsibilities. From the moment he’d decided to set up the surgery in Penhally with Nick, he’d been dedicated to delivering the very best health care to the local population. He was that sort of man.

  The sort of man who would be an amazing father.

  Feeling slightly sick, Amy tried to subdue the misery that bubbled up inside her. Not now. She wasn’t going to think about that now. She dare not. Marco was far too astute. She had to make it look as though this was what she wanted.

  ‘Amy?’ The conversation concluded, he replaced the phone and looked at her. ‘Sorry for the interruption. Since Lucy left it’s been crazy. The snow hasn’t helped. No one is used to having snow in the village and everyone is slipping on pavements and injuring themselves.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘And it’s New Year’s Eve in a few days’ time.’

  Amy knew from experience that New Year’s Eve was always busy for the local health team and being one doctor down would be a problem. ‘You haven’t managed to find anyone to cover Lucy?’

  ‘We weren’t exactly expecting her to deliver so early. We didn’t have time to arrange locum cover. Kate is still working on it.’ He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. His dark lashes brushed the hard, strong lines of his cheekbones and Amy stared hungrily.

  The early morning had always been her favourite time of day, when he had still been asleep and she’d been able to just study his face without having to worry about what she was revealing.

  ‘She told me this afternoon that she may have found someone, but he can’t start for another month. Until then it’s all hands on deck, except that the ship is sinking. I haven’t even asked—how was surgery this morning?’ He opened his eyes suddenly and she coloured, embarrassed that he’d caught her looking at him.

  ‘Surgery was interesting.’ Talking about work was good. ‘Along with the usual coughs, colds and sore throats, I saw my first ever case of erysipelas and a case of ophthalmic shingles.’

  ‘I suppose the erysipelas was one of the trawlermen; it usually is. Ophthalmic shingles?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘A Mrs Duncan?’

  ‘Paula? She’s a writer. Detective novels, I think. Lives in that white house on the cliffs. You’re sure it was shingles?’

  Astonished that he knew so much about his patients, Amy nodded. ‘Yes, she had all the symptoms and skin lesions on the side of her nose.’

  ‘Did you refer her to the hospital?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Poor Paula. That’s the last thing she needs over the Christmas holidays. Did you give her oral aciclovir? Eight hundred milligrams?’

  Amy sighed. ‘Marco, if you’re so worried about my skills, don’t ask me to take your surgery.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He gave a faint smile, the first smile that had touched his mouth since she’d walked back into his life that morning. ‘I’m not used to delegating. And especially not to my wife.’ He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes narrowed and his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked impossibly sexy and Amy’s mouth dried and she turned away from him, her heart thudding hard against her chest.

  ‘Well—it was just the one surgery,’ she muttered, feeling his gaze burning a hole between her shoulder blades.

  ‘So what are your plans once you finally catch that train? Are you returning to Africa or are they sending you somewhere else?’

  ‘I don’t know. They’ve asked me to go to Pakistan.’

  ‘But you haven’t accepted?’

  ‘Not yet.’ She turned, wondering where the conversation was going. ‘I wanted to get things sorted out here first.’

  Marco held her gaze. ‘So you’re out of a job. You, who love work above everything else.’ It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in his voice and Amy’s tongue tied itself in a knot.

  ‘I’m not exactly out of work.’ She tried to retrace her steps. ‘I’ll go where I’m needed.’

 
‘Is that right? In that case I have a proposition for you. You stay in Penhally for a month. Work in the practice. You’ve probably noticed that we’re struggling. Nick, Dragan and I can’t keep it going on our own.’

  Amy stared at him for a moment, wondering if she’d misheard. ‘That’s out of the question.’

  ‘Why? You’ve just said that you’ll go where you’re needed. You’re needed here, Amy.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You keep telling me how important it is for you to work. We need another doctor in Penhally. Urgently. You’re good at what you do and you’re capable of just stepping in and getting on with things. You proved that this morning. If you hadn’t been here, surgery would have ground to a halt.’

  ‘You don’t want your ex-wife working in your practice.’

  ‘My wife.’ He emphasised the word gently. ‘Actually, you’re my wife, Amy, not my ex-wife. And why is that a problem? If you don’t love me then there are no emotions involved, so working together should be easy. It’s a good solution.’

  Not for her.

  Amy stood there in a blind panic, once again trapped by her own words. ‘That’s a ridiculous suggestion. We can’t work together.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Because it would be too painful. Because she wouldn’t be able to hide her true feelings. ‘Marco, don’t do this.’

  ‘Don’t do what? Don’t talk sense? We need a doctor, you need a job. You don’t love me—fine, we work together as friends and colleagues and at the end of a month I give you that divorce you want. One month, working side by side as we’ve done today.’

  So basically she had to allow herself to be tortured for a month in order to achieve something that she didn’t really want anyway.

  She almost laughed.

  ‘It would be too…awkward. Marco, how can you even suggest it?’

  ‘We are both mature, professional people. Why would it be awkward? The only possible reason for it to be awkward would be if you still felt something for me. Is that the case, Amy? Do you feel something?’

  It was like being in court in front of a deceptively gentle prosecutor determined to dig up the truth. ‘I don’t—That isn’t what I mean.’ She stumbled over the words. ‘I don’t feel anything for you, Marco. I’m sorry if that’s hurtful but it’s better that I tell the truth.’

  ‘Are you telling the truth?’ He was watching her closely, his gaze disturbingly intense. ‘There’s something going on here, Amy. Something that isn’t right.’

  ‘You’re putting me in an impossible position, that’s what isn’t right! I can’t stay, Marco.’

  ‘Why not?’ There was a hard edge to his tone. ‘You’ve said that you never loved me and that our relationship was just a fling. Since when did a bit of hot sex need to get in the way of a sensible business arrangement? Work is all-important to you and I’m offering you work. If emotions aren’t involved, there can’t be a problem, can there?’

  Her emotions were involved. But to admit that would be to admit that she was still in love with him and that would lead to complications that she couldn’t handle.

  Amy waded through her options and found them depressingly limited. It was obvious that if she refused he would take her refusal as an indication that she was in love with him and she just didn’t want him knowing that.

  Desperate now, she searched for another excuse—anything—that might help her extricate herself from the situation. ‘I only planned to come for the day. I don’t have clothes or anything.’

  ‘All your clothes are still here. Upstairs in the wardrobe where you left them.’ His tone was even. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, you didn’t take much with you.’

  She’d been too upset to even bother with packing.

  Amy turned away and walked over the window, her mind racing. Unlike him, she wasn’t thinking clearly.

  She could walk away, but then she’d just have to come back and go through all this again another time. Or she could stay and work in Penhally and prove that their relationship was truly over.

  All she had to do was keep up the act for a month and then he’d give her a divorce.

  She stared out to sea, watching the waves rise and fall. It wasn’t as if they’d see that much of each other, she reasoned. She’d already seen how much of his life was tied up with the practice. They’d both be working. She wouldn’t be spending a lot of time in his company.

  How hard would it be?

  ‘You’re joining us?’ Nick Tremayne stared at Amy across the desk, a serious expression on his face. ‘You’re going to work as a locum?’

  ‘Just until Dr Donnelly arrives. Kate has confirmed that he can start in a month.’ Exhausted after a sleepless night in Marco’s spare room, Amy summoned up a smile that she hoped reflected the correct amount of enthusiasm for the situation. ‘I took Marco’s surgery for a while yesterday morning and I enjoyed it. I’m between jobs at the moment and you’re stuck so it seemed a sensible solution.’ Did she sound convincing?

  Probably not, given that she wasn’t entirely convinced herself.

  But Marco had pushed so relentlessly that she’d found herself trapped between all the lies she’d told.

  Nick looked at her, his gaze just a little too probing for her liking. ‘I hate to point out the obvious…’ he glanced towards Marco ‘…but you guys haven’t seen each other for two years. Much as we need the help professionally, I can’t risk the problems of your personal life invading practice business.’

  ‘We’re very civilised,’ Marco said easily. ‘Working together won’t be a problem.’

  Wouldn’t it? Unconvinced, Amy glanced at him, trying to read his mind, but his face gave nothing away. Was he really as relaxed about the whole thing as he seemed?

  Perhaps Nick was asking himself the same question because he studied his friend and colleague for a moment before turning back to Amy. ‘Where are you going to live?’

  Amy opened her mouth to reply but Marco was there first. ‘In the house, with me. Where else? I’m rattling around with five bedrooms.’ His emphasis on the word ‘five’ could have been a linguistic slip or else a gentle reminder that they’d chosen the house with the intention of filling it with their children. ‘Amy missed her train so she stayed last night. We managed to get through the night without killing each other so I don’t anticipate a problem.’

  He was expecting her to live in the same house as him? No! That hadn’t been part of the original plan. She’d been banking on the fact that, apart from the odd bit of professional communication at work, she’d be able to avoid him. Yes, she’d stayed the previous night—shivering in the spare room like an interloper—but she’d assumed that she’d be finding herself alternative accommodation at some point. Already her eyes were gritty and her head ached as a result of a night in his spare bedroom. She’d spent the entire night awake, imagining Marco just next door, probably sprawled naked in the enormous bed that they’d chosen for the main bedroom, and now she discovered that she was going to be staying there every night.

  Amy opened her mouth to argue and then caught Nick’s searching look and instead smiled weakly. Thanks to Marco’s confident announcement she now had no choice but to stay with him. ‘That’s right,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I’m staying with him. No problem.’

  Nick shrugged. ‘Well, if you both think you can handle it. God knows, we need another doctor badly so I’m not likely to put up much of an argument. Welcome back, Amy, and welcome on board.’ His tone was brisk. ‘Well, this is a good start to the New Year. I was starting to think we might have a nervous breakdown before we found anyone to cover Lucy’s maternity leave.’

  ‘How is Lucy?’ Amy tried to ignore the heavy feeling of dread that sat in her stomach. ‘Is she doing all right?’

  ‘Very well, considering the baby was premature. Annabel is still in Special Care but they’re hoping to be back home for New Year.’ Nick tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression thoughtful. It was clear that he was already planning, his m
ind on the practice and the needs of the local population. ‘So, Amy, it’s pretty obvious that you should just take on Lucy’s patients and the antenatal clinic. I seem to remember that obstetrics was always your big love so it makes sense.’

  Amy’s mouth dried. ‘No!’ Forgetting all about the sleeping arrangements, she shook her head. ‘No. I mean…could I do one of the other clinics?’ Not antenatal. Please, God, not that. Not now. ‘It would be great to do something different. Don’t you do the antenatal clinic? I’d hate to take it away from you.’ Aware that Marco was looking at her in astonishment, she tried to recover herself but Nick was frowning, too.

  ‘Since Lucy left I’ve had to cover the minor surgery and I can’t do it all. Marco does child health, of course, and Alison Myers, our practice nurse, does a fair few clinics on her own with no help. Dragan has other responsibilities that take him further afield, so he can’t take on obstetrics.’ Nick narrowed his eyes, studying her face carefully. ‘You love obstetrics. Pregnant women were always your special interest. What’s the problem? Is it something to do with your stint in Africa? I mean, it’s not as if you’re going to be expected to deliver the babies or anything. Just deliver the antenatal care. Have you had a drama that we ought to know about?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’ Her heart was galloping and her palms were damp. ‘There’s no problem, really,’ she lied, her voice barely working. ‘I just thought maybe it would be better to have a more permanent doctor doing that particular clinic. For continuity. Women like continuity, don’t they?’

  She wished Marco would stop looking at her. And now Nick was looking at her, too. And she had a feeling that the older doctor would be asking her questions sooner rather than later.

  ‘Ideally, yes,’ Nick said slowly, his gaze intent on her face. ‘But in this case I think they’ll just be delighted to have a female doctor with expertise in obstetrics. I can’t imagine that anyone is going to protest.’

  She was protesting. But now they were both staring at her and she knew that she’d already betrayed far too much.