Evening surgery didn’t start until six p.m. on a Thursday. The riding lesson was due to finish at five. After a short struggle with himself, Mike drove to Rivercut Stables despite the fact that Grace had said she’d bring Bethany back. Inside a large, brightly lit barn, a dozen or so little boys and girls were solemnly walking round in a giant circle. There were a sprinkling of parents, a handsome woman in riding breeches lounging to one side of the ring and a couple of others calling instructions. Bethany was perched on a chubby barrel of a pony, being led by Grace.
Mike’s heart leapt into his mouth. Bethany looked half entranced, half terrified. When she saw him she let go with one hand and managed a quick wave before grabbing the reins again.
Grace turned, and smiled with delighted approbation. Mike smiled back, his nerves easing. Grace looked good in riding breeches, boots and sweater. In fact, she’d looked good every time he had seen her.
Then he shook himself. Hadn’t he decided it would be better if he didn’t react to Grace as a sexual being? She was a colleague, a friend. It was foolish to mix work and pleasure.
It was nearly the end of the riding lesson. The children were told to give their pony an encouraging pat on the neck. Then they had to dismount, take off the saddle and bridle, and carry them back to the tack room before leading the pony to its stall. The two riding-school ladies trotted up and down the line, keeping an eye on the older ones and showing the newbies what to do. Mike hurried over to carry the saddle, which was far too heavy for Bethany. But his daughter was emphatic that she would lead the pony herself.
Grace kept an unobtrusive hand on the pony’s mane as the string ambled out of the barn. ‘She did really well,’ she said.
‘Damn. You mean she wants to carry on?’
‘Not a doubt, I’d say. You can buy her the most expensive riding hat in the catalogue if it makes you feel better.’
Mike sighed. ‘Sadly, I can’t imagine a Christmas present she’d like more.’
The older woman who had been watching from the side broke off her conversation with one of the parents. ‘Grace Fellowes. What a surprise. What brings you here?’
Mike saw Grace stiffen. ‘I’ve been leading Bethany Curtis around. She’s a new pupil. Dr Curtis, Lorna Threlkeld is the owner of Rivercut Stables.’
Cool eyes assessed him. ‘Welcome to Rivercut, Dr Curtis.’
‘Thank you, I—’
But the woman behind them had hurried forward. ‘Dr Curtis!’
Lorna strolled back into the barn. Mike turned. The voice belonged to Grace’s diabetes patient. ‘There, now, I thought I recognised you. Would Bethany like to come to tea tomorrow? I can pick her up from school and you can collect her after surgery.’
Instinctively, Mike looked at Grace. She gave the tiniest nod.
‘Thank you, that would be lovely. Bethany, sweetheart, Joanne’s mother has invited…’
But he heard Grace’s intake of breath and saw her nudge the pony forward. Angela Mather was still talking, holding up the rest of the line, giving him yard-by-yard directions to her house. He nodded and smiled, but his eyes were on Grace. And on the man coming from the car park who had just altered course to cross her path.
The man had the smug air of a chap who was well aware of his own good looks. He was wearing a good suit, good shoes. Mike disliked him on sight. His eyes flicked from Grace to Bethany, to Grace’s hand on the pony’s mane. ‘Supplementing your income playing nursemaid, Grace? Or is it wish fulfilment?’ He laughed and went into the barn. A moment later Mike heard him laugh again—and a female laugh tinkle in reply.
Mike strode forward. ‘I could thump his teeth down his throat for you, if you like?’
Grace’s set face broke into a forced replica of her usual smile. ‘Don’t bother. He’s not worth the grazed knuckles.’
‘No, really, I’d like to.’
Her mouth wobbled into a shaky laugh.
He studied her face. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Me? Never better.’
Chapter Six
GRACE was half expecting the knock on the door.
‘Hi,’ said Mike in an unconvincing I-was-just-passing tone. ‘We didn’t realise until bedtime that you still had Bethany’s clothes for school.’
As excuses went, it was a pretty good one. ‘Sorry,’ said Grace, ‘I forgot. Here you are.’
But he’d stepped into the cottage’s small front room, ignoring the proffered carrier bag, and had shut the door. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, sitting on the sofa. ‘I’m not going to loom.’
Grace sighed, accepting the inevitable. ‘Coffee? Tea?’
‘Whichever will make you feel most comfortable.’
‘That’ll be tea, then,’ she muttered.
‘And no sitting on that cushion on the other side of the room either,’ he said when she came back in.
Grace put two mugs on the coffee table. ‘If that’s your version of “Trust me, I’m a doctor”, it needs work.’
Mike smiled. ‘You don’t need a doctor, you need a friend.’ He patted the seat next to him.
Grace sat down. Truth to tell, she had—quite badly—needed an arm around her all evening. ‘A friend?’ she said.
‘A friend. A listening ear. Tell you what, let’s start with the woman who owns the stables and carry on from there.’
Grace sipped her tea. ‘Lorna Threlkeld? Oh, she’s just a minor irritant. Her father is a big landowner around here. He was most put out when Dad sold our farms to the tenants, not to him. He kept ringing up and offering more money, but Dad simply said he was quite well enough off already, thank you, and turned him down every time. So Lorna doesn’t like me by way of perpetuating her father’s ill-feeling. I can live with it.’
Mike’s voice was gentle. ‘And the idiot who arrived as we were leaving?’
Her heart gave a sharp twist. ‘Yes, well, that was Peter.’
‘I hoped it was.’
She looked up at him, startled. ‘Hoped? Why?’
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. ‘Because I don’t like to think of there being two men who could upset you like that.’
She laughed. ‘Thank you. That’s very sweet.’ She put her mug down on the table and leant against him. It felt comforting and strangely natural. But he was waiting for the story with the air of a man who was prepared to sit there all night if necessary, and this time she was ready to tell him.
‘Peter Cox is a local solicitor. He grew up near Nestoby and now he’s got a thriving practice based mainly towards Whitby. I’ve sort of known him for years, but we didn’t get together properly until I came back to take up the job here. We went out a few times, bumped into each other at parties, you know how it is.’
‘All too well.’
‘Anyway, when Mum had her heart attack, he was a real tower of strength, comforting me, saying he’d take care of all the formalities, saying she wouldn’t want me to be unhappy. I didn’t let him deal with the legal stuff, of course—for one thing we had our own family solicitor and for another I knew it was a task I must do myself—but I did let him comfort me in other ways. And somehow there we were, engaged, and he said he’d been waiting all his life for a woman like me.’ She put up a hand to dash away a tear. ‘And I was so happy—in spite of all the awfulness of Mum’s death and the mess her affairs were in. I thought…I thought…’
‘Shh.’ Mike pulled her close and kissed her softly on the forehead. ‘What happened next?’
It was a strange way of being kissed. The kiss of a friend. Non-threatening and non-sexual. But she still didn’t want to say the next bit. ‘Mike, I can’t.’
‘How about if I help you? That room you didn’t want us to see yesterday—it had been decorated a lot more recently than the rest of the house. There was nursery paper with cheerful, smiling animals on the walls. There was fresh paintwork. There were new light fittings, a dimmer switch on the wall, brightly coloured curtains. Grace, it’s not difficult to work out.’
‘Oh, Grace.’
‘I worked on the nursery while he drew up plans for the rest of the house and got estimates from builders. The estimates came in, they were expensive but reasonable. I was so happy that he was enjoying the thought of turning the manor into a home again.’
‘Then?’
‘Then the probate papers arrived. It was what I’d expected, but I must have made some sort of face when I opened the packet, because Peter asked me what the problem was.’
‘He got a shock?’
‘A shock! I wondered if I’d have to resuscitate him! His mouth opened and shut for a minute, but no sound came out. My family had been almost rich before my mother’s second husband came along. Not any more. Poor Peter was horrified. He’d thought he was marrying money. And it transpired that when he’d said he’d see to all the renovations himself, he hadn’t meant that he’d pay for them, he’d meant he’d supervise them. He yelled and shouted and said I’d led him on—letting him think I had money when all the time I wanted his.’
Mike’s grip around her shoulders tightened. ‘Bastard.’
‘I said I couldn’t believe he hadn’t already known. The rest of the village had got wind of it. Why did he think Mum had had her seizure, for goodness’ sake? And I knew I’d wept all over his silk shirts about the whole thing. He said I’d taken care to be incomprehensible while I was sobbing. What he meant was that he hadn’t been listening.’
‘A man who hears what he wants to hear, in other words.’
‘You’ve got it.’ Grace fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose. ‘He stormed back to his own place, and for the first time ever I had to phone your father and tell him I couldn’t work that day. I felt dreadful. I was shivering, nauseous, I couldn’t stop crying, I had a blinding headache and appalling stomach cramps. I fell asleep out of sheer nervous exhaustion. And when I woke up, I realised I was having a miscarriage.’
‘Oh, Grace.’ He hugged her tight. ‘You poor thing. You must have been devastated.’
‘I was. And to make things worse, he went around telling people that I’d tried to trap him. That I wanted his money and had got pregnant to force him into marriage. But lucky for him…’
Mike swore, long and comprehensively. Listening to him, Grace felt surprisingly better.
‘It’s all right. Really. I won’t say it hasn’t left a scar, but I’m fine now. I’m just very glad I found out what Peter was like before I married him. In that way I was luckier than my mother.’
‘Grace, only you could find a bright side in that experience.’
‘Well, I don’t think I’ll ever be quite so trusting again. But none of the folk in Rivercut believed him. The good things in life still outweigh the bad.’
‘Humph,’ said Mike. ‘What was he doing at the stables? Are we going to meet him every time Bethany goes riding?’
‘I doubt it. He’s Lorna’s father’s solicitor. I expect he was there on a matter of business. Lorna isn’t usually there herself. She lets her staff see to the running of the place.’
‘Those two instructors we saw? They seemed nice.’
‘They are.’ Then his words filtered through. ‘What do you mean, “Are we going to meet him?” I’m supposed to be paying off my tyres, taking Bethany riding. I thought you couldn’t bear to watch?’
‘I can’t. Not for the whole time. I was being brave this afternoon.’
She smiled up at him. ‘You did very well. I was proud of you.’
He looked down at her. ‘You were?’ he said, an odd note in his voice.
Their faces were very close. Grace felt a small tremor run through her. ‘I was,’ she said.
The next bit happened in slow motion. Very tentatively, Mike bent his head. Grace found herself stretching up to meet him. As she felt his lips on hers, felt the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms as they tightened around her, she knew that this was more than Mike trying to comfort her. It was the kiss of a lover for a lover, a kiss promising everything. She could stop him if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to stop him at all.
He pulled her closer. She eased herself towards him and slid her arm around his waist. His hand cupped the back of her head as his kiss became deeper, more intense. She found herself exploring his mouth as eagerly as he was exploring hers, and she gave an inarticulate murmur at the unexpected excitement it generated in her. Her body moved against his; it was telling her that this was good, this was wonderful, that she needed more and…
She pulled back, breathing fast. What was she doing?
He understood the message at once. He slackened his hold. ‘That…That was…so good,’ he said, just as the silence got beyond bearable.
‘Mike, I…’ She broke off. ‘Oh, Mike. I don’t know.’
‘Grace…’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t say anything.’
‘I have to. Grace, I didn’t intend that. I don’t know why I did it.’ He hesitated. ‘But I’d like to do it again.’
Without another word they came together for a second kiss. This was less tentative. Their mouths had already accepted each other. Grace felt herself tingle all over as her tongue twined with his, as she learnt the shape of his lips—both strange and immediately familiar. It was just a kiss, just holding each other and kissing. It ended naturally, with a lingering reluctance. There could have been so much more—part of her wanted so much more—but it was too soon.
Grace knew she would have to explain something of what she felt. But how to find the words when she didn’t understand herself? She put a hand to his cheek, meeting his eyes squarely and openly. ‘Mike, that was lovely—more than lovely—but I don’t think I’m ready for it and I’m fairly sure you aren’t either. Can we leave it like this for now? Can we be just friends?’
He took a ragged breath. ‘I’m not sure we can. Not after that. Not after the way you made me feel then. But we can try.’
For a moment more she leant against him, secure in his hold, the memory of the kiss still with her. ‘We’ve only just met,’ she said, as much to herself as to him. ‘We barely know each other. I’m scarred. You’re still wounded. You are, aren’t you?’
He passed a hand across his eyes. ‘Grace, I can’t not be honest with you,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes I miss Sarah. How can I not? I loved her very much. But while I was kissing you there was no one in my head but you and nowhere else in the world that I wanted to be but right here on your sofa. So I’m feeling guilty now because I didn’t feel guilty then. And that’s not fair on you.’
She nodded, still tucked into his side. ‘Look at us,’ she said softly, ‘we’re like two birds with broken wings. We can flap and make a lot of noise—but we can’t fly.’
‘Broken wings do mend,’ he told her. ‘Perhaps we’ll learn to fly again.’
‘I hope so. I really do.’
Mike strode out into the night, hoping the cold air would cool his brain. What had he been thinking of? How could he have lost his wits so thoroughly? A snowflake melted on his eyelid, several snowflakes. He groaned. He’d come out without a hat—a fine one he’d been this morning to lecture Bethany about wrapping up warmly. Bethany. Sarah. Grace. Oh, Lord, what a tangle.
H
e heard footsteps thudding in the snow behind him, and a voice calling his name. ‘Mike—you forgot this.’
He turned to see Grace in flapping duffle coat with a woolly hat jammed on her head, holding out the bag containing Bethany’s clothes. He gave a shamed laugh. ‘I must have had something on my mind.’
‘Don’t let it give you sleepless nights,’ she said with a smile.
The falling snow made the village look like a scene from a Christmas card. Lights blazing out of the narrow windows of St Lawrence’s church simply added to the illusion. As they stood there the choir began to rehearse another carol, ‘Good King Wenceslas’.
‘They must have timed that on purpose,’ Grace said. ‘Listen, “When the snow lay round about. Deep and crisp and even.”’
Mike laughed. ‘It’s not like this in London, you know. In fact, much more of this weather and it’ll be “In the Deep Midwinter”. How d’you fancy driving when there’s water like a stone?’
She grinned. ‘I’ve got new tyres. I can drive anywhere.’ Then reached up and kissed his cheek, before turning and hurrying back to her cottage.
Despite her admonition, he did wake up in the small hours thinking of her. He’d been dreaming of Sarah, dreaming of holding her asleep—she’d used to sleep in such a fierce, concentrated way—but when he woke it was Grace in his head and Grace’s lips in his memory. He lay there, aching and not knowing why, for a long time before his eyes closed again and he drifted off.
He only saw Grace briefly on Friday. She’d popped in between visits to supplement her medical kit before heading back out again.
‘Grace,’ he said, hurrying outside after her. ‘I was wondering what you were doing at the weekend. Bethany and I are going house hunting. The estate agent has sent us a list, but a couple of the locations look pretty inaccessible without local knowledge.’
She smiled at him as she stowed her kit in the back of the Land Rover. ‘Sorry, I can’t help. I’m off to a nursing reunion in Leeds. You’d better take your father with you instead.’
His face must have registered his surprise. She grinned. ‘Don’t look so injured. I do have a life, Mike.’
Hot-Shot Doc, Christmas Bride / Christmas At Rivercut Manor Page 22