Welcome to Penhally Bay!
Mills & Boon® welcomes you to the picturesque town of Penhally, nestled on the rugged Cornish coast! With sandy beaches and breathtaking landscapes Penhally is a warm, bustling community, cared for by the Penhally Bay Surgery team, led by the distinguished and commanding Dr Nick Tremayne.
There are sixteen stories in all to enjoy, available in four bundles of four, set in this idyllic coastal town, where fishing boats bob up and down in the bay, friendly faces line the cobbled streets and romance flutters on the Cornish sea breeze! We’ve got gorgeous Mediterranean heroes, top-notch city surgeons, a royal scandal, little miracle babies and Penhally’s very own bad-boy rebel! But that’s not all…
With Brides of Penhally Bay you get double the reading pleasure…as each book also follows the life of damaged hero Dr Nick Tremayne. His story will pierce your heart—a tale of lost love and the torment of forbidden romance. Dr Nick’s unquestionable, unrelenting skill would leave any patient happy in the knowledge that she’s in safe hands, and is a testament to the ability and dedication of all the staff at Penhally Bay Surgery. Come in and meet them for yourself…
THE REBEL OF PENHALLY BAY
BY
CAROLINE ANDERSON
SPANISH DOCTOR, PREGNANT
BY
ANNE FRASER
FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY MILLIONAIRE
BY
KATE HARDY
A MOTHER FOR THE ITALIAN’S TWINS
BY
MARGARET MCDONAGH
www.millsandboon.co.uk
THE REBEL OF PENHALLY BAY
BY
CAROLINE ANDERSON
Caroline Anderson has the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft-furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, ‘I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband John and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!’ Caroline also writes for the Mills & Boon® Romance series.
Recent titles by the same author:
Medical™ Romance
THE VALTIERI MARRIAGE DEAL
A MUMMY FOR CHRISTMAS
THEIR MIRACLE BABY*
CHRISTMAS EVE BABY*
Mills & Boon® Romance
TWO LITTLE MIRACLES
THE SINGLE MUM AND THE TYCOON
HIS PREGNANT HOUSEKEEPER
*Brides of Penhally Bay
PROLOGUE
HE WASN’T concentrating.
If he’d been concentrating, he might have seen it, but he wasn’t. He was miles away, in Cornwall, thanks to his mother and the letter he’d just been handed on his way out of the hospital.
It was all the usual blah.
Hope you’re well, Jamie’s done well in his exams, goodness knows how, he’s so idle, who does that remind you of? Oh, well, if he turns out as well as you he’ll be all right but why you want to bury yourself in Africa, goodness knows. I wish you were here, you could keep him in order…
Fat chance of that. They were like peas in a pod, and the only thing that would keep Jamie in order was Jamie, as Sam very well knew.
But then the letter changed.
I’ve seen Gemma again, by the way, and she asked after you. I can’t believe it’s ten years since you had that fling with her. You’ve hardly been back since, but maybe you’ll come now, with her here. Bit of an incentive for you—more interesting than your boring old mother. She’s a brilliant practice nurse, and still single, though I can’t imagine why when she’s so gorgeous, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around for her and she seemed very keen to hear all about you. You missed a chance there, Sam. Maybe you should come home and take up where you left off…
He hadn’t read the rest. He’d screwed it up, hurled it into the bin and stalked out into the sun. Damn. He’d meant to leave before dawn, but what with one thing and another, and now the bloody letter…
The bike was loaded, stocked up for the run to the makeshift little clinic thirty miles away, and he had enough to do without distractions. He really—really!—didn’t need to be thinking about Gemma, or that summer all those years ago. Ten, for God’s sake. A whole decade. Ten long, lonely years. And he hadn’t missed his chance, he’d had it snatched away from him—
‘Oh, dammit to hell.’
He kicked the starter viciously, dropped the bike forwards off the stand and straddled it while he fastened his helmet. Why the hell was she back in Penhally? And why, more to the point, was she working as a practice nurse? So much for her dedication to medicine—but that was just par for the course, really, wasn’t it? After all, she hadn’t stuck to him, either.
He twisted the throttle, listened to the feeble sound of the little engine and mourned his old bike. Gemma had loved his bike, and they’d gone everywhere on it. They’d been inseparable for a year, every time she’d come down from Bath with her parents to their holiday cottage, and they’d had so much fun.
Not that her parents had approved of him, but, then, they wouldn’t, would they? Not with his bad-boy reputation, and they’d had to do a fair amount of sneaking around to be together. But that second summer she’d come down alone after her final school exams, for the last summer before uni, and instead of it being the end, in a way it was to be the beginning—the beginning of the next phase of their lives. They’d got places at the same medical school in Bristol, and everything was panning out perfectly.
So he’d asked her to marry him and crazily, unbelievably, she’d said yes, so on a glorious day in early August they’d made their vows—vows he’d really meant, vows from the heart—and they’d honeymooned in the tumbledown little wooden shack on the beach that was his home for the summer, a retreat from the demands of home, a haven of tranquillity at first and then, with Gemma, a place of paradise—until her parents had come down from Bath and found them there.
They’d gone crazy, and Gemma had been in floods of tears, but she’d stood her ground, told them they were married and he’d shut the door in their faces and held her while she cried.
And then just days later, she’d left a note to say she’d changed her mind about them, and about going to uni. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to read medicine after all, and she was deferring for a year and taking time out to think about things, going travelling—Gemma, who’d already seen the world with her wealthy parents—and going alone. She didn’t want to see him again. And she was gone, she and her parents who’d obviously meant more to her than he had, their holiday home empty, closed up for the winter.
He’d never seen her again. Not a word, in all these years, all the time he’d been at med school in Bristol, keeping an eye on his family from a close distance and waiting and hoping for her to change her mind—he’d even been to see her parents, but they’d told him she didn’t want to see him, and he wasn’t going to beg.
So he’d given up on her and finished his degree, then moved to London, trained as a GP, then done a surgical rotation, and now here he was ten years down the line, working for an aid agency in Africa, and still she was following him in his head, in his heart, eating holes in him like some vile flesh-eating bug that wouldn’t leave him alone. Asking after him, of all things!
How dare she? How dare she ask after him?
And he’d dream about her again tonight, he thought bit
terly as he let out the clutch and shot off down the dirt track on the start of his journey. Every time she was mentioned, every time he thought about her, which was pretty much daily, she haunted his sleep, the memory of her laughter, her smile, then those few days and nights they’d had together, so precious, so tender, so absolutely bone-deep right that he’d just known she was the only woman he’d ever love—the memories were enough to drive him mad.
As mad as his mother, if she thought he was ever going back to Penhally to expose himself to that again. No way. It would kill him. But just to see her again—to touch her—to hold her in his arms, to bury his nose in her hair and smell the warm summer fragrance that was Gemma…
So he wasn’t concentrating when he swerved off the road to avoid the broken-down car. He wasn’t thinking that it was strange for the car to be there, that it was possibly a booby trap. He wasn’t looking out for the rebels who’d left it there to trick him into going onto the verge.
He was thinking about his wife, about the soft sighs, the taste of her skin, the sobbing screams as she came apart in his arms.
And then he hit the landmine.
CHAPTER ONE
‘HERE’S trouble.’
Gemma looked up from the paperwork she was sorting and saw old Doris Trefusis jerk her head towards the door. And her heart hiccuped against her ribs, because there could be only one person she was talking about, and she wasn’t ready!
How silly. She’d thought she was prepared, but apparently not, if the pounding of her heart and the shaking of her legs was anything to go by.
Since his mother’s stroke yesterday evening, she’d been psyching herself up for Sam coming down from London, but nothing could have prepared her for the emotional impact of her first sight of him in years. Ten years, nine months, two weeks, three days and four and a half hours, to be exact.
Long, lonely years in which she’d ached for him, hungry for any scrap of news, any snippet that would tell her what he was up to. Then last year his distraught mother had told her he’d been hurt in a stupid bike accident and she’d misunderstood and thought for a fleeting second that he’d died. Not for long, but it had devastated her, the pain of loss slamming through her and bringing home to her just how much she still loved him.
But that was ridiculous, because she didn’t know him, not any more—if she ever really had. They’d been little more than kids, but he wasn’t a kid now. Lord, no.
Not that he’d really been one then, at nineteen, but he certainly wasn’t now, she thought, her heart lurching as he came into view. She was standing in the shadows at the back of Reception and she watched spellbound as he sauntered in, tall and broad, more solid than he had been in his late teens, but every bit as gorgeous. A slight limp was the only sign of his injuries, if anything only adding another layer of attraction, and that cocky smile flickering round his mouth was tearing her composure to shreds. But it wasn’t for her. He hadn’t seen her yet in her shadowy corner, and his smile was for Mrs Trefusis.
‘Morning, Doris!’ he said, and his deep, husky voice, so painfully familiar, made her heart turn over. ‘How are you? Looking as young and gorgeous as ever, I see!’
Their diminutive and elderly cleaner put the magazines she was tidying back in the rack and looked him up and down, her mouth pursed repressively even though her eyes were twinkling. ‘Good morning, Dr Cavendish.’
Gemma saw his mouth twitch and his eyebrows shoot up. ‘Dr Cavendish? Whatever happened to young Samuel? I get the feeling I’m still in trouble with you, Doris—or does it have to be Mrs Trefusis now?’
Doris tutted. ‘You can hardly expect a warm welcome, Samuel. You’ve been gone so long, and your poor mother—’
He snorted. ‘My poor mother has had my support continuously since my father walked out seventeen years ago, as you very well know.’
‘From a distance. You should have been here, Sam,’ she chided gently.
Did his smile lose its sparkle? Maybe, although it didn’t waver as he went on, ‘Well, I’m here now, so you can start by offering me a cup of tea. I’m as dry as a desert.’
Doris sniffed. ‘I’m not sure you deserve one.’
He grinned and gave her a slow, lazy wink. ‘You’re just saying that. You love me really,’ he said, and Gemma watched old Doris Trefusis melt under the megawatt charm.
‘Go away with you,’ she said, blushing and flapping her hand at him. ‘I’ll bring it in—Dr Tremayne’s half expecting you. I might even be able to find you one of Hazel’s fairings if those doctors have left you any. She made an extra batch specially when she knew you were coming home.’
‘What, to help lure me back in?’ he said drily, glancing at Hazel Furse, the practice manager, with a wry smile. Then, as if he’d only just become aware of her presence at the back of Reception, he turned and met Gemma’s eyes, his face suddenly expressionless.
‘Gemma.’
That was all, just the one word, but it stopped her heart in its tracks. Oh, Sam. Were your eyes always so blue? Like a Mediterranean sky at night, cobalt blue, piercing through me.
‘Hello, Sam.’ Her voice sounded forced, and she had to swallow the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. ‘Welcome home.’
His jaw tightened, and he nodded. ‘Thank you. Hopefully it won’t be for too long. Mrs Furse, would you be kind enough to tell Dr T. I’m here, please.’
‘Sam! Good to see you! I saw you drive up. Come on in. Doris, I don’t know if you could rustle up some tea…’
‘It’s all in hand, Dr Tremayne. Kettle’s already on.’
Without another word to her, Sam turned his back on Gemma and limped into Nick’s surgery, the older man’s arm slung round his shoulders, and the door closed behind them.
She let her breath out then, unaware that she’d been holding it ever since he’d come in, holding back a part of herself that was too vulnerable, too tender and delicate and scarred to let him see.
He was back. Sam was back, but not the way she’d always dreamed of, had waited breathlessly for ever since she’d returned to Penhally last year in the hope that he might find out she was here and come back to her. Instead he’d come back for yet another family crisis, another duty visit, another call on his endless good nature and sense of responsibility that nobody else ever seemed to recognise.
But he hadn’t come back for her, and she realised now, after seeing him, after the way he’d looked at her, that he never would. And the pain was devastating…
‘Are you all right?’
She opened her eyes and saw Kate Althorp, one of their midwives, watching her with concern in her all-too-intelligent eyes.
‘I’m fine, Kate.’
‘Are you sure? You look a little pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said again, more firmly, because if Kate didn’t let her go and get on, she was going to do something stupid like burst into tears in Reception. And there was no way she was letting anyone see her show so much as a flicker of emotion.
Even if her heart was being torn in two…
Sam stood at the window and stared back along Harbour Road at the devastation left behind by the flood last autumn, putting Gemma’s face out of his mind. ‘What happened to the Anchor Hotel?’ he asked, although in truth he didn’t care. It and its patrons had never appealed to him, and he was sure it had been mutual.
‘It’s been demolished—the new additions that were never properly built—and they’re rebuilding it. There were a lot of properties damaged around the bottom of Bridge Street and Gull Close. There are lots of people still out of their homes.’
‘It must have been quite something.’
‘It was. It’s a miracle the bridge survived. The noise was tremendous.’
‘I’m sure. I missed all the news, I’m afraid—I was in hospital.’
‘Yes, I know, your mother said you’d had an accident on your bike. I see you’re still limping a bit. How are you?’
‘Really?’ He shrugged. ‘Better. Frustrated by the slow
progress, but better. So—I gather your crew are all married now?’ he said, changing the subject to one he was more comfortable with, and Nick smiled, his lean face relaxing slightly.
‘Yes, they are. And Jack and Lucy have both got families. In fact Lucy’s decided she doesn’t want to come back, so there’s a job here if you’re at a loose end…’
Sam snorted softly and shook his head at his old friend and mentor. ‘I owe you a great deal, Dr T., but not that much.’ Not while his wife was working here. ‘Anyway, I’ll be busy.’
‘Yes, of course. How is your mother? She was pretty bad when I saw her yesterday evening, on her way in, but I phoned this morning and they said she’s doing well.’
‘Yes, she is, thanks. They’ve got her in the specialist stroke unit, and they scanned her straight away and put her on mega clot-busters, and she’s improving already.’
‘That’s excellent. We’re lucky to have the stroke unit. It’s a real asset, but she’ll still need some support for a while. Is that going to be a problem for you?’
‘Not really.’ He’d spent the last few months torn between physio and a desk job he loathed, trying to earn his keep at the charity he’d been working for when he’d been blown up and wondering where the hell to go from here. Next to all of that, this further infringement of his personal choice was small potatoes.
But his mother’s life—well, that was certainly going to change, and if she had her way, change his with it. ‘She’s OK,’ he said, trying to sound convincing. ‘It’s her left side, mostly her hand and her face, but that’s just the visible stuff. I have no idea what else might have been affected or what she’ll get back with this intensive treatment. Hopefully she’ll make a full recovery, but I expect the full extent will reveal itself in time. I would have thought there are bound to be some after-effects.’
Caroline Anderson, Anne Fraser, Kate Hardy, Margaret McDonagh Page 1