‘I do want that, more than anything, but…’ Her face crumpled. ‘I’m scared, Hugh. Scared to allow myself to get close to someone again. Scared I’ll hurt you by dying, scared you’ll leave me because I’ll get sick again, or you’ll suddenly decide you want children.’
‘Alex, just living is scary,’ he said, drawing her into his arms so that her head was resting on his bare chest, ‘and I’m scared too. Scared of losing you, scared of you maybe one day being in pain, and me not being able to help you, but I’m more scared of you walking away from me when I’ve only just found you.’
‘Then maybe…’ She swallowed hard. ‘Maybe we should stop this now, before either of us get in too deep.’
‘Oh, hell, leannan,’ he said, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. ‘We’re already in too deep, you know we are.’
‘You called me that last night,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Leannan. What does it mean?’
‘Sweetheart in the Gaelic,’ he murmured, smoothing her spiky hair down, ‘and that’s what you are, my leannan. Alex, I didn’t plan for this to happen. I never expected that my waiting-room door would one day open, and you’d walk into my life.’
‘You wanted me to walk right back out again,’ she pointed out.
‘I didn’t know you then, and I didn’t want to know you, but, Alex…’ His lips crinkled into a warm and tender smile. ‘You’re a part of my life now, a part I’m not prepared to let go.’
Reluctantly, she eased herself out of his arms, and took a shuddering breath.
‘You still don’t know me—not really,’ she said. ‘You only know what you see, what I choose to let you see, and that isn’t the real me.’
‘You don’t know the real me, either,’ he observed. ‘Like I’m normally crotchety as hell first thing in the morning until I’ve had at least two cups of coffee, that I always squeeze the toothpaste in the middle, and I snore if I lie on my back.’
‘Really?’ she said, unable to prevent a small snort of laughter breaking from her, and he nodded.
‘Really,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be a journey of discovery for both of us, Alex, so if you have any deep, dark secrets, now’s the time to reveal them.’
The laughter faded from her face.
‘Hugh…’
‘Alex, you don’t have to tell me anything,’ he said quickly, his eyes soft and gentle. ‘I was only joking. The past is over, gone. When Jenny died, I never thought I would ever feel this way again—whole and complete—but you’ve done this. You’ve achieved this miracle, simply by being you.’
‘But—’
‘Let go, Alex,’ he said, taking both of his hands in hers. ‘Let go of the past. Today is the start of a new life for both of us, a life we’re going to take one day at a time, and if the cancer comes back we’ll deal with that, too, one day at a time, together.’
‘You make it sound so easy,’ she murmured, and he smiled.
‘It is, if you’ll only allow yourself to believe you have a future. I didn’t believe I had one. I couldn’t look forward, only back, but now I’m looking forward, believing in the future again, and that’s what you have to do.’
She managed a crooked smile.
‘That’s the hard part,’ she said. ‘Believing.’
‘Alex, do you trust me?’
She stared up into his quicksilver eyes. She wanted to, she so wanted to, but she couldn’t forget how much she had loved Jonathan and yet when she’d needed him the most he had walked out of her life.
‘I want to, Hugh,’ she said, ‘I truly want to, but…’
‘You’re still scared.’ He nodded. ‘Then it’s going to be my aim in life to have you one day say to me, “Hugh, I do trust you, no qualification.”’
Her eyes began to swim, and she had to swallow hard before she could answer him.
‘It might take you rather a long time to achieve that,’ she said with difficulty.
‘We have all the time in the world,’ he said, and she didn’t say the obvious.
That neither of them knew how much time they might have.
‘Can I tell Malcolm and Chrissie you have Hodgkin’s?’ Hugh continued, and quickly she shook her head.
‘No, please, I’d rather you didn’t,’ she said, and he caught hold of her shoulders.
‘Alex, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ he protested. ‘It’s a part of you, and if you should ever feel very tired—’
‘I don’t want any special treatment,’ she interrupted, and he smiled ruefully.
‘You and your damned independence. Alex, people worrying about you, caring about you, doesn’t weaken you. In fact, it can give you strength to help you through the bad times.’
Or devastate you if they don’t help as you expect them to, she thought, but she didn’t say that.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said instead, ‘but I still don’t want you to tell them, at least not yet. I don’t…I can’t handle pity.’
He sighed.
‘Sympathy and understanding aren’t pity, Alex, but if that’s what you want, I won’t tell them. Can I at least tell Malcolm you’ve changed your mind, that you’re staying on with us in the practice?’
‘Hugh, can’t we wait a little?’ she said. ‘At the moment I feel…’
She stared helplessly at him, and he smiled.
‘That I’m rushing you,’ he finished for her. ‘I’m sorry. You’re usually the impetuous one, aren’t you, and now it’s me being a bulldozer. I just want the whole world to know about us, but I promise I’ll say nothing. Which doesn’t mean, however,’ he continued, his fingers beginning to gently loosen the sheet around her, ‘that I’m not going to take you up on your offer that you’d be more than willing to…’
‘Hugh, we can’t,’ she protested, as the sheet slid down to her waist, and he cupped her breasts and her nipples hardened instantly. ‘We have to go to work soon, and you must want something to eat. I’ve cereal, fruit juice, eggs and—’
‘Not hungry for breakfast,’ he said, trailing a line of kisses down her neck.
‘I’m hungry. I’ve always been a very…a very…Oh.’ She gasped, as he sucked on her breast and she felt the pull go everywhere.
‘A very what?’ he said huskily, as his lips began to travel slowly south.
‘Eater…. Hearty…. eater,’ she managed, complete sentences eluding her, as she threaded her fingers through his hair and arched against him.
He raised his head, and grinned at her.
‘Me, too, but I still don’t want breakfast,’ he said.
She didn’t either, she decided, as he resumed his downward path, and she squirmed beneath him, wanting more than just his lips teasing and tantalising her. He’d said this morning that he wanted to be a part of her life. He’d said he wanted her despite her Hodgkin’s, and if he hadn’t mentioned the fact that she couldn’t have children he’d said last night that you didn’t marry somebody because you wanted children.
It’ll be all right, she told herself, as he slipped between her thighs and she opened for him, wanting him hard and solid inside her. He’d told her all she had to do was believe, and she would try her best to, and this time it would be all right.
‘Why, Alex, you look lovely this morning!’ Chrissie exclaimed when she walked into the surgery. ‘Malcolm,’ she continued, seeing her husband come out of his room, ‘doesn’t Alex look lovely?’
‘Good enough to eat.’ Malcolm nodded, and Alex blushed.
‘It’s just an old skirt and blouse,’ she said, awkwardly smoothing the folds of her blue woollen skirt down, then nervously touching the neckline of her blouse. ‘I just thought I’d wear something different today as I’m not on home visits and could walk to work.’
‘Well, you look gorgeous,’ Chrissie declared. ‘Has Hugh seen you yet?’
Alex shook her head, feeling suddenly a little self-conscious. She’d insisted on him leaving for work before her, and though Hugh had protested, pointed out that nobody would
think it was odd if they arrived together, she’d managed to make him go eventually. It was after he’d gone, when she’d reached for her sweater and jeans, that she’d paused, and on impulse had extracted the skirt and blouse from her rucksack.
‘You don’t think people will think it peculiar, me always having worn casual clothes before, and now I’m wearing this?’ she said uncertainly, and Chrissie smiled.
‘They’ll just see what I see,’ the receptionist replied. ‘A very attractive young woman.’
Alex didn’t know about attractive, but by the time her morning surgery was almost over she was heartily sick to death of watching her patients do a double take every time they walked into her consulting room.
‘Anyone would think I’d suddenly sprouted two heads,’ she complained when she went through to Chrissie to see who was next on her list, and the receptionist laughed.
‘I guess people are just accustomed to seeing you wearing one thing,’ she replied, ‘and any kind of change throws them. Here you go,’ she continued, holding out a folder. ‘Your last patient of the morning. Ellie Dickson.’
Alex’s eyebrows rose. The last time she’d seen the woman she’d tried to impress upon her that regular check-ups were vital now she was in the last trimester of her pregnancy, but Ellie had made it equally plain that she considered examinations a complete waste of time so it had to be something serious to have got her here today.
‘Did she give you any idea of what was wrong?’ she asked, and Chrissie shook her head.
‘She just said she wanted to talk to you about something.’
Ellie did, and by the time the young mother-to-be had finished Alex couldn’t hide her disbelief.
‘Ellie, you cannot possibly be serious,’ she protested. ‘There is no way either I, or Dr Hugh, would sanction a home birth for you, not with your past history.’
‘But you said yourself my blood pressure was fine,’ Ellie exclaimed. ‘And I’ve had none of the headaches, blurred vision or tummy pains that you will insist on interrogating me about every time you see me.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I hated the hospital when I was in there, giving birth to Thomas,’ Ellie continued determinedly. ‘It was so big, and impersonal, and I never saw the same doctor twice, or the same nurse.’
‘Whether you hated it or not, the hospital is where you’re going,’ Alex said firmly. ‘Ellie you developed pre-eclampsia during your last pregnancy—’
‘I haven’t developed it this time.’
‘You still could,’ Alex countered. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but this idea is a complete no-brainer. Dr Hugh would go through the roof if he knew you were even contemplating it, and I can’t say I’d blame him.’
‘I thought you’d understand,’ Ellie protested. ‘You’re so much more modern than Dr Hugh and Dr Malcolm, what with your bike and everything, I thought you’d understand.’
‘I do, Ellie,’ Alex replied, ‘but even if I thought you were a suitable candidate for a home birth—and you most certainly are not—it’s far too late to make the necessary arrangements. You don’t have a birth plan worked out, or a home midwife booked—’
‘So, you’re saying no,’ Ellie interrupted, outrage plain on her face. ‘Even though this is what I want, and it’s my baby, and my body, you’re still saying no.’
‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but, yes, I’m saying no,’ Alex declared, and the girl straightened mutinously in her seat.
‘I could still have a home birth,’ she said. ‘When I go into labour, if I don’t phone for an ambulance—’
‘Don’t you dare even consider doing such a thing,’ Alex exclaimed in horror. ‘Ellie, I can appreciate your reluctance to go into hospital, but I want your solemn promise that you’ll phone for an ambulance the minute you have your first contraction.’
The young woman said nothing, and Alex got to her feet, and quickly came round the side of her desk towards her.
‘Ellie, please. I won’t be able to sleep nights if you don’t give me your promise. Think of your baby. What if either you or your baby suddenly needs expert medical help and you’re at home, miles away from that help?’
Ellie bit her lip, then sighed.
‘OK, all right, if it means that much to you, I promise I’ll go into hospital when the time comes. You know, you’re as bad as Dr Hugh,’ she continued truculently. ‘Fuss, fuss, fuss.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Alex laughed, and Ellie’s lips twitched slightly.
‘Actually, you are very like him,’ the woman observed. ‘Maybe all country doctors come out of a mould with Dedicated to My Patients stamped on them.’
‘Maybe they do,’ Alex said, laughing again, but when Ellie had left she sat for a moment in her consulting room, lost in thought.
Perhaps she was a country doctor. She’d worked in big cities, large towns and small villages in the past, and had always felt most at home in the small villages, and Kilbreckan…Everyone had been so welcoming, everyone had made her feel as though she belonged. Yes, there were drawbacks, in that anonymity was impossible, but she liked the people, the scenery and the slower pace of life.
And if Hugh Scott wasn’t here? her mind demanded. Would you still like it?
‘Yes, I would,’ she said out loud, surprising herself. ‘I actually would.’
Which meant that all she had to do was to find the courage to accept Hugh’s offer of a partnership with him and Malcolm. To believe Hugh when he said she had a future, here, with him.
‘Big leap of faith, Alex,’ she muttered.
One day at a time, Hugh had said. Take it one day at a time.
Maybe he was right. Maybe it was possible to start anew, to look forward and not always look back, and she got to her feet with a smile and walked through to Reception, and saw Hugh deep in conversation with Chrissie.
The receptionist smiled at her round his shoulder, and she must have said something to Hugh because he turned.
‘Chrissie tells me you look very…’ His voice trailed off as he stared at her.
‘Very what?’ Alex prompted.
‘Nice this morning,’ he said with enough tension in his voice to make it an understatement.
‘Nice, huh?’ Alex said, then some mischievous impulse made her add, ‘Wow, but never let it be said that a highlander doesn’t know how to give a woman a fulsome compliment.’
She heard Chrissie choke down a laugh but, when she tried to hand her Ellie’s folder, Hugh barred her way.
‘Could I have a word, Dr Lorimer?’ he said.
‘A word?’ she repeated, and saw a gleam appear in his grey eyes, a gleam that made her heart pick up speed. ‘What about?’
‘Not here, in my consulting room.’
‘You still have one more patient, Hugh,’ Chrissie reminded him. ‘Donna Ferguson.’
‘I know, but I really do need a word with Dr Lorimer,’ he declared, nudging Alex with his finger so she automatically walked ahead of him, and into his room.
‘So what’s this word you want to have with me?’ she said, as he shut his consulting-room door.
‘Show, don’t tell, Lorimer,’ he murmured. ‘Didn’t anybody ever tell you that?’
She didn’t even get a second to think about what he’d said. Before she could move, before she could say anything, he had wrapped his arms around her, and, as his lips met hers, the world spun away, and she fell into him, losing track of time, of everything, except the safety of his arms, and the heat his lips were generating through her.
‘W-what was that for?’ she stammered, breathless and dizzy and aching for more, when he finally released her.
‘Because it’s been exactly two hours and fifty-three minutes since I last kissed you,’ he said, his breathing as ragged as hers.
‘You’ve been counting?’ she said, and his eyes darkened.
‘You bet I have,’ he said, reaching for her again, and she backed away.
‘Hugh, we can’t. You know Chrissie never knocks unless we
have a patient with us.’
He swore under his breath.
‘I should have had locks fitted to these doors,’ he said, and Alex couldn’t help but laugh.
‘That would certainly cause a few comments in the pub,’ she observed. ‘Maybe it might be safer if I go back to wearing my leathers if a skirt and blouse turns you on like this.’
‘Everything about you turns me on,’ he said, and her heart quickened as his eyes drifted over her. ‘The skirt and blouse…Are they for me?’
She thought about it, then slowly shook her head. ‘Actually, no, they’re not. They’re for me.’
‘I’m glad. I mean, I’m obviously glad for myself, too, because I can’t see your legs often enough,’ he continued as she stared at him, puzzled, ‘but I’m more pleased you decided to put those clothes on for yourself. It means you’re moving on.’
‘Wearing a skirt and blouse is moving on?’ she exclaimed. ‘Hugh, that doesn’t make any sense.’
‘When was the last time you wore either?’
She had to think long, and hard. ‘Four—maybe a bit more—years ago,’ she said, ‘but I still don’t see—’
‘It was before your chemo, wasn’t it?’ he observed. ‘Before then, I’m guessing you wore your leathers when you were out on your bike, but you also had a wardrobe full of pretty clothes for work. After your chemo—after Jonathan—you started hiding behind your jeans and sweatshirts, not wanting anyone to notice you’re a woman, but now…’
‘I’m moving on,’ she murmured, then chuckled a little shakily as he nodded. ‘Maybe you should have specialised in psychiatry, Hugh.’
‘Nah.’ He grinned. ‘I just know you. Now, get out of here before I forget all about Chrissie and rip off your clothes and make love to you.’
‘Rip off my clothes, huh?’ she said, moistening her lips, and saw his eyes grow hot. ‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Alexandra Lorimer, you are playing with fire.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, not meaning it, and knew from the answering gleam in his eyes that he knew she didn’t mean it. ‘I had Ellie Dickson in this morning, and what she wanted should well and truly dampen your libido.’
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