Holly's Heart

by Fiona McArthur

  Holly’s strapless dress clung to the swell of her pale breasts and continued to cling to her curves all the way to her hips, then flowed loose to her ankles. Her hair, mostly swept up to expose her slender neck, with several curled tendrils teasing her cheeks, emphasised her exquisite jaw. She looked achingly beautiful.

  He dragged his eyes away to glance at the bride as she waited, radiating excitement, and felt his mouth curve. Jasmine looked amazing, and very happy, though his predominant thought was: Holly would be pleased. He wished Jason Ridgeway luck. But then the beautiful bridesmaid stood, and all he could see was Holly.

  She made his heart pound and his mouth dry and he wanted to dash across and lift her out of that damn cart and carry her away into these picture-perfect woods, but he’d never been a caveman. He suspected Holly wouldn’t like it anyway. But his lips twitched at the delightful image.

  Her dark burnished hair shone gold lights as she turned back to the bride, the flutter of the escaping strands swaying away from her slender, fragile neck. He saw that beautiful, luscious mouth curve in a smile that drew his eyes like a siren’s lure despite the fact she hadn’t even seen him.

  Eventually he remembered to breathe.

  Then she stepped down like a princess from a coach, all grace and fluid movement, and stepped back to wait for Maggie to hold her hand up to the bride.

  Three hours later the ceremony was over, photos were done, the bridal party had completed the speeches and the first dance in the rustic barn had made him watch another man dance with Holly. Luckily, he’d been seated with his old rugby friend from school.

  The local policeman, Connor James, had mocked his flat expression, punched him lightly on the arm to wake him up and Ben pretended to be interested again about the changes in the town.

  Which helped.

  ‘If you look at her one more time she might dissolve,’ Connor said, with a sideways glance at him. ‘You’re a glutton for punishment.’

  Ben laughed without much amusement. ‘Guess so.’

  After the speeches they’d moved outside to tables in the grassed area. ‘Well, at least she’s looking back at you now. She didn’t even glance at me.’

  Finally the bridal couple left in an extravagance of rice and biodegradable confetti and Holly eased free of her duties. Her gaze snagged on him and Ben smiled back.

  Connor whistled. ‘Okay. I’m impressed.’

  Ben eyed him. Connor was his height and just as broad. ‘Good.’

  Connor laughed. ‘Here she comes. I’ll shove off. Take my seat.’

  ‘Good friend.’ But Ben was looking at Holly. He stood as she approached the table and found himself smiling.

  ‘I forgot Connor was a friend of yours,’ she said.

  ‘An excellent friend. He offered his seat to you.’

  He watched her think about that and then she sat. Gave him the sort of smile he’d been waiting all afternoon for and murmured, ‘It will be nice to relax,’ as she sank onto Connor’s vacated chair. As he lowered himself beside her he decided all the waiting had been worthwhile as she turned to smile at him as if he was the best thing she’d seen all day.

  Which was exactly when the heavily pregnant woman at the next table swayed and collapsed sideways off her chair and someone screamed as she began to shudder and jolt into a full-blown convulsion.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Holly

  Holly’s brain froze. Eclamptic fit? At this stage of pregnancy, it was the most likely scenario. Like the one she could still see. Like the mother she’d lost four months ago. The one she couldn’t save from consequences that followed an event like this, the tragedy that had broken her. That memory frosted every muscle in creeping cold and paralysed them into bands of ice along her skin as it passed. Not another mother. Like that woman. Like her sister. She wasn’t ready for this. It wasn’t fair. She’d left medicine.

  Ben leapt to his feet and she saw his instant expectation of her help.

  ‘Holly?’

  ‘Call me if you need me.’ She couldn’t move. She wanted to but her limbs were frozen.

  Ben’s turn to freeze, catch her eye and say quietly but very firmly, ‘I need you now.’ He put his hand out and for some bizarre reason she couldn’t say no. She allowed him to pull her up. Unexpected. She could move. Thank goodness.

  Then they were across the grass and kneeling beside the woman as she lay in a spasming heap on the grass. Holly shut the ‘no I can’t’ away in her screeching brain and, thankfully, years of training and experience took over.

  Together they rolled the woman onto her side. Her jarring spasms prevented her breathing, a small fleck of foam shone on her pale lips and her skin began the creeping transition from pink to the blue background of apnoea. Holly grabbed a man’s pullover from a nearby chair and slid it under the woman’s bouncing head. Ben gestured to make space around them as people began to gather and then stepped back.

  Maggie appeared as if by telepathy. ‘I’ve phoned for the ambulance. Will she be all right?’

  Holly murmured, ‘When the fit stops she should breathe.’ The next minute seemed to last even longer than the held breath that Holly couldn’t release. Finally, the fit slowed, gradually the jerking body movements ebbed away, and then she lay still. Stopped and then nothing. No breath. No movement.

  Holly wiped the woman’s mouth to feel for a breath but then a harsh sobbing ragged intake of air from the woman occurred spontaneously and Holly sagged with relief. She tried desperately not to think of the slowing of the baby’s heart rate inside the mother or how high the woman’s blood pressure could be to cause this fit. If somewhere inside this woman a clot broke off and she had a stroke …

  The woman’s eyelids fluttered.

  Another thought crashed in. She’d be terrified. Holly knew that. After a fit like that she wouldn’t know what had happened. Holly leaned in towards the woman’s ear. ‘You’re okay, you had a turn, but you’re safe. Just rest, don’t try to open your eyes and take some slow breaths.’

  Holly looked up at Maggie. ‘I saw a reclining lounger on wheels. Can they bring it here? We can lift her onto that and take her somewhere quiet until the paramedics arrive.’

  Maggie nodded, pleased there was something she could do to help, and hurried away.

  ‘Good thought,’ Ben murmured quietly, his fingers resting lightly on the woman’s limp wrist. ‘If we can move her before she wakes up too much she’ll appreciate being away from the eyes.’

  A white-faced man in an ill-fitting suit fell in a heap beside them. A glass in his hand held precariously. ‘Willa? Darling? She’s my wife. I just went to get her a drink of water.’

  Ben answered gently and calmly, ‘Your wife is unwell. The convulsion is over but she’s exhausted and there’s a chance she could fit again until we get her to the hospital. The ambulance is coming.’

  ‘The baby? What about the baby?’ Panic tinged his voice.

  Ben glanced at her. What about both of them? Holly’s vocal cords wouldn’t work. She couldn’t give a reassurance that had been a lie once before.

  When she didn’t answer he looked back at the man. ‘When mum isn’t breathing, baby isn’t getting oxygen, but your wife is breathing now and everything will flow through. They’ll check baby when she gets to the hospital. But your wife is the concern at the moment as she’s in charge of both of them.’

  Maggie arrived at that time with the lounger and Ben gestured to three men who leapt to help. With Holly holding her head, the men lifted her very slowly and carefully onto the lounger so she was sitting up slightly. Willa opened her eyes with the movement.

  ‘Wh … what happened?’

  *

  Ben went with Willa to the hospital.

  As the ambulance drove away it was as if the protective bubble she’d been working in as a doctor burst into droplets of nothing and she was left blinking and shivering. Everyone was watching the ambulance and she needed to get out of here before she broke down.

 
Her face must have telegraphed her panic, because Maggie just patted her shoulder and whispered, ‘Go. We’ll see all the guests away.’

  As soon as Holly made it home and safely shut her own door behind her, she dragged her dress off over her head and threw it to the floor. She hunched into the shower and stood shaking and cold. As if she could wash away the memories that were crowding her. As if she could warm the ice in her veins. She’d had it worse than she’d realised. Thank goodness for Ben or she wouldn’t have had the support she needed, with her mental state more fragile than she imagined.

  Memories of her sister, cold and lifeless. Memories of that mother cold and lifeless. Willa today, before she’d breathed. Lifeless.

  She was so cold and the water wasn’t helping. She stepped out, towelled off and began to dress.

  The boys were staying at Mrs F’s house again. The older woman seemed to have connected with them like a cuddly grandmother who had discovered new grandchildren. Thank her guardian angels for that.

  Ben had said he would come to her later. She would be glad of his presence, but forlornly she hoped he wouldn’t ask the questions she knew he would. Knew he had to for both their sakes.

  An hour later, when Ben knocked, she opened the door. He stood there, no jacket, top buttons open on his shirt, his strong throat brown from the sun, and his eyes concerned. For her.

  Stop fighting him, her brain screamed. She needed him and the friendship she’d lost.

  He opened his arms and she stepped into them. Suddenly she could breathe more easily. She sagged against his chest and inhaled. Citrus and leather. She inhaled again. And a note of something inherently male. Her arms tightened around him unconsciously. Her forehead leant heavier against him.

  ‘Are you okay? Your face is like ice.’ His voice vibrated under her cheek, one hand stroking her hair. Then his finger slid down and he tilted her chin so he could see her expression.

  She’d scrubbed the unaccustomed make-up off in the shower as she’d tried to warm the cold that was more than skin deep, and now wished she hadn’t changed into jeans and a T-shirt because she’d needed more warmth. Closer warmth.

  Because now, in Ben’s arms, suddenly she wished she’d exposed more skin.

  Whoa there, girl. She eased herself away from him. Stumbled back until his hand shot out and he steadied her.

  Ben tilted his head at her. Moved into the room more. Raised his dark brows. ‘You sure you’re ready to finish this hug? Because I’m feeling it still has a lot of voltage left in it.’

  She hiccoughed a slightly hysterical broken laugh and turned away from him. Could feel the heat in her cheeks from the way she’d plastered herself against him as soon as he’d arrived at her door.

  But he wouldn’t let her get away with that. As if he knew her too well. Surely he didn’t remember the way her mind worked from so long ago. He couldn’t know her this well from their short time recently.

  ‘Hugs are helpful. You should come back and let me comfort you.’ His voice low. Caring. ‘It’s what I want to do. And I suspect you need it more than you realise.’

  She did need that. Felt him step closer on the carpet.

  His arms came around her from the back and when she didn’t resist he pulled her firmly against him and then spun her until she was plastered close again on his chest. His arms were like a cocoon of warmth and for the first time in a long time she felt protected. Cared for. Cherished. His head came down and he kissed the top of her head. ‘Just take it like the medicine it is.’

  She stiffened and he sighed.

  ‘Sorry. Poor word choice. But we’ll talk about that later. Let’s just concentrate on warming you and me behaving myself while I do it.’

  Her breath sputtered a little as his words sank in and despite herself she could feel her mouth curve. How did she get so lucky to have found a friend when she needed one? A friend like Ben.

  He smelt so good.

  Felt so hard and solid under her cheek.

  And his arms were warm and wonderful around her.

  She tilted her head, reached up, and kissed his lips.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ben

  Ben saw the movement, felt her intention almost before she did, and his heart thumped in his chest as if someone had tapped him none-to-lightly with a hammer. Then her soft, beautiful, luscious lips were on his and he breathed her in like golden nectar from an exotic flower.

  He savoured that kiss for the gift it was. Tasted the peppermint of her breath, the velvet of her lips, the disappointing gratitude for his hug. He didn’t want gratitude.

  She pulled back and he let her. Dying inside from the need of her, but he let her pull back. Would always let her pull back.

  He stared into the face he’d been able to conjure for what seemed like forever. A face that had changed with the years, became even more impossibly beautiful to him, yet stayed the same. Under the smoky blue of her corneas she seemed confused. As if something had happened that she didn’t expect and before he grasped her intention she leaned up and pressed her mouth against his again, this time with invitation and just a trace of hunger.

  No thought was needed as he drew her closer this time, feathered her beautiful mouth, tasted the whole, tasted each lip, and finally tasted, just a touch, the velvet of her tongue. He made himself pull back. Forced away the urge to show her how amenable he was to meet her needs. Anytime.

  Despite how much he wanted to stamp his own hunger on her, show her what he wanted, he let her blaze the trail, which she did with gradually increasing tempo, until he was grasping at the scattering cobwebs of his control.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Holly

  Holly’s head swam with lust. OMG. Ben. Ben tasted like butterscotch and coffee, and heat, and his arms crushed her in the perfect way, his mouth loved her with such skill she almost swooned. She couldn’t get enough of this crazy, burning, engulfing hunger that had leapt out of nowhere and slammed into her, taking her from a place of pain to a place of liberating lust. The damn street sign falling out of nowhere and hitting her again. The Ben Factor.

  Her hands slid up the front of his chest, pushing into the solid wall of it, slid over those broad muscular shoulders, then up past his slightly rough cheeks to bury her fingers in the soft, satiny strands of his black hair. Grabbed on. Someone moaned. Surely not her?

  They both pulled back at the sound and she disentangled her hands with the beginnings of embarrassment. She’d practically pulled his hair out she wanted him so much.

  ‘I was enjoying that,’ he teased and her cheeks burnt hotter but he was having none of that. ‘Really enjoyed it. Maybe we should close the door?’

  Which he did and the solid click of shutting out the world seemed to allow the past to float away. This was about now. In the moment. A much better place to be. She could do that.

  He moved with that measured tread of his to stand beside her. Took her hand and lifted it slowly to his mouth and pressed the heat of his mouth against the back of her wrist, a feather-light homage that said she would always have his consideration and respect, before he pulled her gently towards him.

  She allowed herself to look, to drink him in. His smiling eyes that belied the heat she could see smouldering behind them. The curve of his suddenly, sinfully, sexy mouth. She couldn’t help the sound of delight that escaped her.

  ‘Hidden depths, Ben Brierly,’ she murmured with an unexpected smile in her voice.

  ‘Always,’ he said, but now he was watching her mouth again. Like he had the first night after he returned. She could feel the heat creep down her belly and into her centre. A flame in an out-of-practice fireplace, heat licking her kindling as he watched her dry, dry mouth and lifted his finger to touch her there. In the centre of her lips. ‘So beautiful.’

  Impulsively she touched that finger with her tongue and suddenly everything was a magnificent blur of Ben caressing her and she caressing him back until they were both lost in the heat.

  *


  Time blurred, skin slid, and the tension within her drifted away on a cloud of homage and murmurings she’d only ever dreamed of.

  Afterwards, still tangled together, her heart thumping from the most beautiful, gentle, lovingly incredible sex, she lay with her ear pressed to his chest, listening to his heart.

  After a minute of silence. ‘What happened at work?’ he said softly.

  She felt herself begin to stiffen against him, but she was too sated to stay tense. Too loose from his nurturing of her to sink deeply at this moment into the past and feel overwhelmed by the pain. Talking to Ben about deep stuff had always been like this. Safe. Easier than with anyone else.

  So she said simply, ‘I’d had a really bad day and at the end a pregnant woman died.’ The stark words did not betray the horror she’d felt. The disaster of cracking her professional shield in a way that had made it so hard to be there for the twins the way she needed to be. A warning of mammoth proportions that she wasn’t superwoman.

  She remembered that frozen dreadful moment at the wedding today. And despite the warmth of his body against hers, her skin chilled.

  He asked, ‘Was it an eclamptic fit?’

  He was quick. She’d give him that. As if that would explain so much. ‘Complications of one, yes. So, Willa today was …’ She paused, searched for a word, and settled for, ‘challenging.’ More like a vicious push of her PTSD button.

  ‘I’ll bet it was.’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘You did amazingly well to shake it off and manage today.’

  She thought about the timing of the incident at work and as if he were tuned to her thoughts, too tuned, he asked, ‘And how long after your sister’s passing did this really bad day happen?’

  She squeezed herself tighter against his chest. ‘Two weeks.’ Her voice a bare whisper. ‘I’d just gone back to work. Had enrolled the twins in the new school in Sydney. It was the first day I left the boys, and I had to go home and pretend nothing had happened. That another child hadn’t just lost his mother. That another family hadn’t been destroyed. And I knew I couldn’t keep giving my best at work and be what I needed to be to support my nephews the way I felt at that time. I couldn’t do both of those worlds yet.’ She shrugged against him. ‘So, we came back to Wirralong for time out and I reopened Susan’s coffee shop.’