Wedding in Darling Downs

by Leah Martyn

  Cedric sighed resignedly. ‘I suppose that’d be the thing to do.’

  While he had Cedric’s tacit acceptance of the changes he wanted to implement, Declan thought he’d push gently ahead with another suggestion. ‘What about getting back into a bit of social life? Do you play cards?’

  ‘I don’t mind a game or two.’

  ‘Then you might enjoy coming along to the seniors’ club.’ Since his involvement with Carolyn Jones, Declan had done his homework and clued himself in on what was available to the older residents of the town. ‘They meet regularly on a Wednesday at the farmers’ hall and the CWA provide lunch. From what I hear, it’s a friendly group. They’d make you welcome.’ Declan grinned disarmingly. ‘You’d possibly know most of them anyway, an old-timer like you.’

  ‘Probably would.’ Cedric looked down at his hands. ‘I lost touch a bit when I had the stroke…’

  ‘So, how’s your appetite?’ Declan infused enthusiasm into his voice, sensing Cedric was apt to drift off into introspection. ‘Are you managing with the meals on wheels?’

  ‘Food’s OK.’ Cedric shrugged. ‘Sometimes I don’t feel like eating much.’

  ‘Once we can get you out and about a bit more, all that will improve. Get yourself out into the sun as well. That will keep up your vitamin D requirement. Very important, whatever our age.’

  Cedric nodded, taking it all on board. Then he lifted his eyebrows in a query. ‘What did you say your name was, Doctor?’

  ‘O’Malley. Call me Declan. I’ll be your medical officer from now on, if you’re agreeable?’

  ‘You seem all right,’ Cedric said grudgingly. ‘Not bossy like some.’

  Like the women, Declan interpreted wryly. But at least he’d made headway with this old man. Stirred him up enough to take an interest in his own welfare. And that felt surprisingly good. ‘Now—’ Declan flipped open his medical case ‘—how would you feel about me checking you over while I’m here?’

  ‘Fair enough, I suppose.’ Cedric looked around him with agitation. ‘Where do you want me?’

  ‘Just there’s fine.’ Declan slung his stethoscope around his neck and grinned. ‘And I promise I’ll keep the prodding to a minimum.’

  Emma’s heartbeat was thrumming. Surely he’d be here soon. It seemed ages since he’d left to visit his patient. An age in which she’d had a leisurely bath and dressed in comfortable trousers and a fine woollen black top. She’d brushed her hair and left it loose and kept her make-up to a minimum.

  Why was she fussing so? They were simply sharing a meal. He’d probably prefer to eat in the kitchen. But then, perhaps she should make the evening special and set the small table in the dining room. Would that look a bit contrived? He’d hate that. Although, just in case, she’d go ahead and light the fire in the dining room…

  Finally, a knock sounded at her front door.

  ‘Hi.’ Hands occupied with his shopping bags, Declan leaned forward and planted a lingering kiss on her mouth when Emma opened the door. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit late. It’s a wild night out there. I nearly got blown to bits.’

  ‘Hello…’ Emma said when she could breathe again. The touch of his mouth had sent up sparks. She wanted to stop him right there, wrap her arms around his body and just hold him. She wanted him. So much. But he was already at the worktop unloading his shopping. ‘What are we having?’ she asked, peering over his shoulder.

  He tipped his head on one side and grinned down at her. ‘Char-grilled spiced lamb cutlets with ratatouille.’

  Emma gurgled a soft laugh. In other words, grilled chops and vegetables. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘You’re not.’ He sent her an indulgent half-amused look. ‘But give me my moment of fame here.’

  ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘Ah—’ he indicated the array of vegetables he’d bought—red and yellow peppers, zucchini and vine tomatoes. ‘These have to be cut into bite-sized pieces.’

  ‘Even though we’re starving hungry?’

  ‘Even though.’ Declan gently elbowed her out of the way to select a knife from the kitchen block. ‘Just do what the main man tells you, please? It’ll be worth the wait.’

  Emma was still chuckling to herself as she set about her task. Since he was going to so much trouble to feed her, she definitely would set the table in the dining room.

  They took a long time over dinner, as though neither of them wanted it to end. ‘How did I do, then?’ Declan asked finally.

  Emma smiled. He’d given her a look so warm, she’d felt its impact skidding and sliding across her nerves and along her backbone before settling in a swirling mass in her belly. ‘You did so well, I just might have to keep you. This was such a good idea,’ she rushed on. ‘To have dinner at home.’

  ‘Yes, it was.’ Declan’s gaze shimmered over her face and then roamed to register the gleam of lamplight that threw her tawny lashes into sharp relief against her flushed cheeks. He moved a bit uncomfortably as his body zinged to a new awareness. He took a careful mouthful of his wine, his eyes caressing her over the rim of his glass. He ached to touch her intimately, to breathe in the sweet scent of her silky hair, stroke the softness of her naked body as she lay next to him…

  ‘Coffee?’ Emma felt a quicksilver flip in her stomach. She’d been aware of his overt scrutiny.

  ‘Not for me, thanks.’

  She swung to her feet. ‘I’ll clear the table and stack the dishwasher, then.’ She sent him a quick smile. ‘Go through to the lounge. We’ll be more comfortable in there.’

  Declan extinguished the candles they’d used on the dinner table and then crossed the hallway to the lounge room. He went to stand at the window, drawing back the curtains slightly in order to check the state of the weather himself. In the glow from the street lights he could see the trees bending, their foliage swirling into a mad dance in the wake of the wind’s rushing passage.

  He turned when Emma came in. ‘How long do you think the storm will take to get here?’ He opened his arms in invitation and she slid into his embrace.

  ‘I’m no expert.’ Emma rested her head against his shoulder. ‘But I’d rather be here than out driving somewhere—wouldn’t you?’

  ‘That’s a no-brainer,’ he said. ‘Of course I’d rather be here.’ He looked down at her. ‘That’s if it’s all right if I hang about?’

  ‘I’d have turfed you out ages ago if it wasn’t.’

  Declan gave one of his lazy smiles. ‘Would I have gone, though?’

  ‘Of course you would.’ Emma stroked the tips of her fingers across the small of his back, her hands already addicted to the sensation. ‘You’re an old-fashioned kind of guy.’

  Declan looked pained. ‘Are you saying my clothes need an update?’

  Emma’s mouth widened in a grin. They were shadow dancing again—fooling around, as if it was obvious to both of them that if their conversation became too serious, too personal, then anything could happen…‘Stop fishing for compliments,’ she said. ‘You know you dress very well.’

  ‘I undress very well, too,’ he rejoined daringly.

  Emma’s heart twanged out of rhythm. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Declan registered the tiny swallow in her throat. ‘So,’ he said softly, moving so that his hands rested on the tops of her arms and feeling the tremble that went through her, ‘what do you want to do with the rest of the evening?’

  Emma opened her mouth and closed it again, knowing deep in her heart that this was a moment of no return. Was she ready? Were they ready? They’d never know unless they put their trust in one another, reached out and gathered life in. ‘You could stay—if you like…?’

  His eyes locked with hers, dark in shadow, tender in their caress. ‘My whole body aches with wanting you, Emma. As long as you’re sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ He should have come into her life sooner, but he was here now. And that was all that mattered. ‘Yes.’ She looked at him and smiled, feeling the weight of indecision drop from her like an unw
anted heavy garment. ‘I’ve never been more sure of anything.’

  Declan made a deep sound in his throat that could have been a sigh. Then he drew her close, lowering his mouth to claim her lips.

  That was all it took. Like a spark on straw, the fire of their passion took hold and in a breath it was raging.

  Declan whispered harshly against her mouth. ‘I meant to take it slow…’

  She arched back with a little cry. ‘No—not slow.’ Her hands threaded through his hair and she trapped his face, holding him. ‘I need you, Declan—’

  He turned his head and gently nipped the soft flesh below her thumb, his eyes pinpoints of desire when she gasped an indrawn breath. ‘Which bedroom?’

  ‘Mine.’

  Clothes flew off in a flurry, Declan swearing over a leg of his jeans that refused to leave his foot. Finally, he stepped back and stared at her. At the tendrils of corn-silk hair draping gently on to her creamy naked shoulders. At the swanlike gracefulness of her neck. At the small line of muscle delineating the length of her upper arm. The sweet roundness of her breasts. The shallow dip of her tummy…‘Emma—’ He felt his voice catch on a painful swallow. ‘You’re—’ He shook his head. ‘You’re beautiful.’

  ‘And you…’ She hardly realized what she was doing, reaching out to slide her fingers down over his diaphragm, over his belly and dip into the shallow nook of his navel.

  Suddenly, Declan made a gravelly sound of protest, jamming his hand over hers to stop its movement. ‘Wait…’ He looked around blankly and then hooked up his jeans, slipping a tiny packet from the back pocket. ‘I never know whether there’s a right time to do this,’ he growled.

  Emma felt herself blushing, crossing her arms tightly across her ribcage. He’d turned his back and she could see the shallow hollow just above the base of his spine. A tiny jagged laugh left her mouth. ‘No need for diagrams, Declan—just do it…’

  Oh, God…it was like stumbling into paradise. He touched her teasingly, his hands light and seductive in their rhythm. Instinctively, he knew what would please her, excite her, bring her to the brink but not quite tip over.

  Emma was wild for him, a wildness she’d never known, drawing him closer, feeling him hover at the core of her femininity before plunging in. She gasped, dragging him in more deeply, her head arching back as she called his name, feeling the sweet ripeness of her release gathering and then splintering her into a thousand pieces. Her name exploded on Declan’s tongue as his climax followed hers a millisecond later, their hearts thumping a wild tattoo as they fell back to earth.

  After a long time, they pulled back from each other, two sets of bruised lips, two pairs of eyes hazed with a new kind of wonderment.

  ‘So…’ he said.

  ‘So,’ she echoed huskily.

  Lifting a hand, he knuckled her cheek gently. ‘Why did we wait so long?’

  Chapter Eight

  EMMA had no time to answer.

  ‘I don’t believe this!’ Declan’s expletive hit the air as his mobile rang. ‘Can’t we get two minutes to call our own?’

  ‘Where’s your phone?’ Emma was out of bed and reaching for her gown.

  ‘Pocket of my jeans.’

  ‘Here.’ She hooked them off the floor and tossed them to him. It had to be an emergency somewhere. She knew that instinctively.

  They had trouble, the police sergeant, Gary Bryson, informed Declan. Part of the roof at the farmers’ hall had blown off. The hall had been packed with the usual Friday bingo players. There was confusion, to say the least. No one was sure about injuries but could the doctors come? Declan closed off his phone and in clipped terms relayed the message to Emma.

  ‘Right.’ She snatched up her own mobile off the bedside table. ‘I’ll get on to the hospital and alert them we might be sending patients in. They’ll automatically recall any staff who are available.’

  ‘Let’s just be grateful the power lines haven’t gone down,’ Declan said as they dressed hurriedly.

  ‘Don’t count your chickens quite yet,’ Emma warned. ‘But at least the hospital has a backup power supply. It’ll kick in if the worst happens.’

  Declan grunted a non-reply, looking broodingly at Emma as she twisted her hair quickly into a ponytail. A frown touched his eyes. He felt as though he’d been catapulted from a delicious dream with no time to wallow in its aftermath. But he could still smell Emma’s perfume, still feel the softness of her skin beneath his hands.

  His mouth tightened. He wanted more and he couldn’t have it. They’d taken a huge step into the unknown tonight. They’d needed time and closeness to talk about it, wind down, make love again, this time slowly, softly, sexily—

  ‘Your top’s inside out,’ Emma said, breaking his thought pattern.

  Impatiently, Declan dragged the T-shirt over his head and rectified it. ‘The timing’s all wrong for this, Emma.’

  Well, she knew that. Emma’s head was bent as she pulled on a pair of sturdy boots. But they were rural doctors. They had to attend. Emergencies didn’t choose their time to happen. Heaven knew what they’d find when they got to the hall. And she didn’t want to be doing this any more than Declan. The timing was all wrong. She’d wanted a blissful few hours with him. Their newness as lovers surely demanded that. She’d wanted to hold him and have him hold her and just talk. About nothing. About everything. But it seemed as though an unkind fate had stepped in and now her emotions were all over the place. Declan’s too, if she was a betting woman. She popped upright from the edge of the bed. ‘Ready?’

  They went in Declan’s car. Halfway to the hall the street lights flickered and faded and the night around them was plunged into darkness.

  ‘I’ve a couple of lantern torches in the boot’ was Declan’s only comment.

  The rain had started in earnest by the time they got to the hall. ‘Let’s proceed with caution,’ Declan warned, handing Emma one of the torches and taking the other himself.

  ‘We should go through the front entrance,’ she said. ‘It seems the least affected.’ To her relief, the State Emergency Services people were already on the scene, their bright orange overalls lending a sense of security. Emergency lighting was rapidly being put in place. ‘That’s John Cabot, the team leader for the SES,’ she told Declan. ‘We’ll speak to him first.’

  Introductions were made swiftly and Declan asked the question on both their minds, ‘What’s the damage, John? Do we know yet?’

  ‘Less than we feared, Doc. Most of the folk had already left. Just a few stragglers having a last cuppa, from what we know. The roof over the rear of the hall has pretty much gone but the rest seems intact. I’ve a couple of guys up there presently checking and getting tarpaulins into place to keep out the rain. Let us know if you need more lighting.’

  ‘Thanks, John.’ Declan nodded, taking it all in. ‘We’ll let you get on with it, then.’

  ‘Oh, look—’ Emma made a dash forward. ‘There’s Moira! What on earth is she doing here?’

  ‘I’m on the driving roster for our seniors’ group at the church,’ Moira explained agitatedly. ‘And I’d just come to collect them when the roof went. This is Agnes—’ She indicated the elderly lady slumped in a chair beside them. ‘I think she’s hurt quite badly,’ Moira added in a frightened whisper.

  Declan had already sized up the situation. His seeking gaze went quickly around the hall. ‘Moira, is there a first aid room or somewhere we could make Agnes more comfortable?’

  ‘Er—yes—yes…’ Moira visibly pulled herself together, pointing to a room at the side of the hall. ‘And, mercifully, it’s still intact.’

  ‘Over here!’ Declan hailed the two ambulances officers who had just arrived and explained what he needed.

  ‘Take it easy,’ he instructed as they settled the elderly woman on the narrow bunk bed. Agnes looked glassily pale against the deep purple of her cardigan. ‘Can you tell us what happened, Agnes?’ he asked gently as he began his examination.

  ‘Sittin
g at the table…’ Agnes moistened her lips slowly. ‘Something hit me—fell forward—hard, terrible hard…’

  ‘That must have hurt, Agnes.’ Emma held her hand to the injured woman’s wrist. ‘Thready,’ she reported softly.

  Declan replaced his stethoscope. ‘Let’s step outside for a minute.’

  ‘What’s the matter with me?’ Agnes asked fretfully.

  ‘It’ll be all right, dear.’ Moira took the older woman’s hand and held it. ‘The doctors will look after you.’

  Emma followed Declan out of the room. ‘What do you think?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Hard to tell, but she could have a splenic haematoma. She’ll need a CT scan asap.’

  ‘We’ll send her on, then?’

  ‘Obviously.’ Declan gave a dismissive grunt. ‘We don’t have the equipment to do it here, Emma.’

  It was hardly her fault if their little hospital didn’t have the advanced facilities of a city radiology department! ‘I’ll escort Agnes across to the hospital, then,’ she said shortly. ‘Stabilize her before the road trip to Toowoomba.’

  ‘Do that.’ Declan’s voice was clipped. ‘And call through to Toowoomba, please. Tell them we want a CT scan immediately on arrival. And to make sure they have a supply of O-neg blood ready in case she needs to go to surgery.’

  For heaven’s sake! Emma’s fine chin darted a centimetre upwards. She knew what protocol to follow. Did he ever stop to consider how they’d managed before he’d come? Well, amazingly enough, they had! Then she softened. Giving orders came as naturally to him as breathing. ‘Are you worried about a bleed?’

  ‘Without a scanner we can only second-guess.’ And it was frustrating him like hell. ‘If you’ll do the necessary for Agnes, I’ll see if there are any more casualties here. So far it looks pretty quiet.’

  They went back to the first aid room and Emma explained what they needed to do.