by Sarah Morgan
‘Why haven’t I heard of it?’
‘Obviously there haven’t been any cases on Glenmore. It’s sensible to take precautions if you’re walking or camping in an area where infected ticks are known to live.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth, his gaze lingering. ‘Wear long sleeves and trousers, use a tick repellent spray—all the obvious things.’
They were talking about medical matters and yet there was a sudden intimacy in the atmosphere that she didn’t understand. It circled her like a forcefield, drawing her in, and when the phone rang suddenly she gave a start.
He was between her and the desk and she waited for him to move to one side so that she could answer it, but he stayed where he was. Left with no choice, she was forced to brush past him as she reached for the receiver. ‘Yes? I mean…’ Flustered by the fact that he was standing so close to her, she stumbled over the words. ‘Nurse Harris speaking—Oh, hello, Mr Murray.’ Struggling to concentrate, she listened as the man on the other end spoke to her. ‘Well, no, I hadn’t heard of it either, but—’ She broke off and listened again before finally shaking her head. ‘You’d better speak to him yourself.’
She sighed and handed the receiver to Conner. ‘It’s Mr Murray, the pharmacist down on South Quay. He has a question about the prescription you just gave Harry.’
Relaxed and confident, Conner took the phone from her, his gaze still locked with hers. ‘MacNeil.’
Flora felt as though someone had lit a fire inside her body. She should look away. She knew she should look away but she just couldn’t help herself. There was something in his ice-blue eyes that insisted that she look.
‘That’s right, Mr Murray, the dose is large.’ He listened, his eyes still fixed on hers. ‘Yes, I do know that I’m not treating a horse.’
Flora frowned and mouthed, ‘A horse?’ But Conner merely lifted a hand and trailed a finger down her cheek with agonising slowness.
‘No, believe it or not, I’m not trying to kill him, Mr Murray,’ he drawled softly, his finger lingering near her mouth. ‘I’m treating a case of Lyme disease. If you look it up I think you’ll find that the dose I’ve given him is appropriate…Yes, even in a child.’ He brushed her lower lip with his thumb as he continued to field a tirade from the island pharmacist. ‘Yes, I do remember the incident with the firework. Yes, and the barn—No, I don’t blame you for questioning me, Mr Murray.’ His hand dropped to his side and she sensed a sudden change in him. ‘Of course, you’re just doing your job.’
Finally he replaced the receiver. ‘Apparently it isn’t just the patients who have a problem trusting my judgement.’
His tone was flat and Flora stood still, wanting to say something but not knowing what. ‘It was an unusual prescription.’
‘You don’t need to make excuses for them, Flora.’ Conner straightened and walked towards the door, his face expressionless. ‘You’d better carry on with your surgery. You have patients lining the waiting room.’
She stared after him as he left the room, wanting to stop him. She wanted to say something that would fix things because she sensed that beneath his bored, devil-may-care attitude there was a seam of pain buried so deep that no one could touch it.
The islanders were wary of him, that was true, but what did he think of them?
Remembering Logan’s words, Flora bit her lip. When had anyone given Conner MacNeil a chance? When had anyone given him the benefit of the doubt? Why should he bother with any of them when they’d never bothered with him?
It was going to take more than one or two successful consultations to fill his consulting room with patients because no one believed that Conner MacNeil could be anything but a Bad Boy.
It was going to take a miracle.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE miracle didn’t happen.
A few of the locals reluctantly agreed to see Conner, but the majority refused, choosing to wait a week to see Logan rather than be forced to consult the island rebel.
‘It’s ridiculous,’ Flora told Evanna crossly a week after Conner had arrived on Glenmore. They were sitting on a rug on the beach, watching Kirsty dig in the sand. Finally the wind had dropped and the sun shone. ‘They tell Janet it’s urgent, and then say they’d rather wait than see Conner. I mean, just how urgent can something be if it can wait a week? Frankly, it would serve them right if a bit of them dropped off.’
‘Well, to be fair to them, Conner was a bit wild and crazy,’ Evanna said mildly, picking up Kirsty’s sunhat and putting it back on her head. ‘We just need to give them time to realise that he’s changed.’
‘Time isn’t on our side. Glenmore needs another doctor. A doctor the patients will see! Your baby is due in four weeks,’ Flora reminded her. ‘If the patients don’t stop demanding to see Logan, you won’t get a look-in.’
Evanna sighed. ‘I know. He’s shattered. He used to always get home before I put Kirsty to bed. Now I’m lucky if he’s home before I’m in bed.’ She lifted her face to the sun. ‘It’s hot today.’
‘I gather from Logan that your blood result was all right.’ Flora lifted a bottle of water out of her bag and took a sip. ‘That’s a relief all round.’
‘Yes, I was already immune to chickenpox, so that’s one less problem to contend with.’
Flora was still pondering the problem of Conner. ‘It isn’t as if he’s a useless doctor. He’s brilliant. You should have seen him with Harry Gregg.’ She leaned forward and helped Kirsty ease the sand out of the bucket. ‘There! A perfect castle.’ She smiled as Kirsty clapped her hands with delight. ‘And he’s diagnosed Mrs Ellis.’
‘Yes, she told me he’s given her thyroxine. He certainly seems to know what he’s doing.’
‘So why hasn’t word spread? Why won’t the islanders see him?’
‘Because they see the boy and not the man? I’m guessing, but I suppose they just don’t trust him.’ Evanna hesitated. ‘Apparently Finn Sullivan refused to rent him a yacht a few evenings ago.’
Flora stared at her. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes, but it’s not all black. I saw Conner kicking a football around with the kids on the beach yesterday. They think he’s so cool. And several women have made appointments to see him, but I don’t think he was too thrilled about that.’
‘He certainly wasn’t.’ Flora brushed sand from Kirsty’s face. ‘He strode up to Janet and said, “I’m not a bloody gynaecologist” or something equally unsympathetic. And Janet pointed out that as we didn’t have a female doctor, he was expected to see female problems.’
‘And what was Conner’s response to that?’
‘I don’t know because he lowered his voice but Janet went scarlet.’
Evanna laughed. ‘I don’t suppose there was much call for gynecology in the army. According to Logan, he was dealing with a lot of trauma. Anyway, it’s time we helped him settle in, which is why I’ve invited him to join us for lunch later.’
Flora’s heart bumped hard against her chest. ‘He’s coming to lunch? I thought it was just your family. Logan, Meg and a few others.’
‘Conner is family. I thought it might be a good idea to remind people of that.’
‘Oh.’ Flora concentrated on Kirsty. ‘Well, that’s great. Really nice of you, Evanna. So we should go back to the house. Start getting ready.’ She rose to her feet and picked Kirsty up. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get the sand off your feet and take you home. Who knows? Your daddy might even be there.’
* * *
Conner’s feet echoed on the cracked wooden floorboards and he glanced around him, feeling the memories swirl. The house smelled of damp, but that wasn’t surprising because it had been years since the light and air had been allowed to pour unrestricted through its doors and windows.
He’d always hated this house and nothing had changed. It was as if the walls had absorbed some of the anger and hatred that had been played out in these rooms.
He tried to feel something positive, but there was nothing that wasn’t dark and murk
y, and he gave a soft curse and strode out of the front door and back into the sunshine, drawing the clear air deep into his lungs.
Just walking into the house had made him feel contaminated.
He shouldn’t have come.
He should have just paid someone to sell the damn place.
Beneath him the sea crashed onto the rocks and he sucked in a breath, drinking in the wildness of it—the savage beauty. Everything about this part of Glenmore was angry. The coast, the sea, the wind, the house…
Him?
Conner stood for a moment, battling with uncomfortable thoughts until some inner sense warned him that he wasn’t alone.
He turned swiftly and saw her.
Flora was standing only metres away from him, the wind lifting her brown curls and blowing them around her face, her expression uncertain.
‘Sorry.’ Her voice faltered and it was obvious that she couldn’t decide whether to stay or retreat. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
He wished she hadn’t, because he was in no mood for company and his desperate need for isolation fuelled his temper. ‘Then why did you?’
Flora flinched at his directness, but she didn’t retreat. ‘You were supposed to be at Logan and Evanna’s for lunch. We assumed you’d forgotten.’
‘I needed some space.’
‘Oh.’ She took a breath. ‘It’s just that…you didn’t ring or anything.’
‘No.’
‘I was worried.’
‘Why?’ Since when had anyone worried about him?
‘This business with the islanders,’ she shrugged, embarrassed and awkward. ‘It’s horrible. I thought by now they would have accepted you.’
‘It’s not important.’
‘Of course it’s important! Evanna told me that Finn wouldn’t rent you a boat—’
When he didn’t answer, she gazed at him in exasperation. ‘Don’t you care?’
He could feel the blood throbbing in his veins. ‘What are you doing here, Flora?’
‘When you didn’t show up, I thought I’d bring lunch to you.’
It was then that he noticed the basket by her feet. He could see a bowl of strawberries, thick whipped cream and another bowl, this one piled high with bronzed chicken legs. And white and red checked napkins.
A traditional picnic.
It was all so civilised and in such direct contrast to this place and everything he was feeling that he felt his tension levels soar.
He wasn’t feeling civilised. He wasn’t feeling civilised at all.
In fact, he was in an extremely dangerous mood.
‘It’s pretty here,’ she ventured hesitantly, glancing over to the rocks and the tiny beach. ‘This is the only house on the island that has its own private beach.’
‘Flora, if you have any sense, you’ll leave right now.’
Her eyes flew to his. Widened. ‘I’ve made you angry.’
There was something different about her but he couldn’t work out what it was. ‘I was angry before you arrived. I know you mean well, but I don’t wish to take a trip down memory lane and I especially don’t want to do it holding anyone’s hand,’ he said harshly. ‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘I went to your barn first and you weren’t there.’ She captured a strand of hair as it danced in the breeze. ‘And I saw Mrs North picking blackberries in the lane outside and she said she’d seen you coming in this direction.’
Conner’s mood darkened still further. ‘Now I know why they don’t bother with CCTV on Glenmore. They have locals stationed on every street corner.’
‘I shouldn’t have come. I really am sorry.’ Flushed and flustered, Flora lifted the basket and stepped forward. She pushed the basket into his hands, her smile brief and shy. ‘Take it. Evanna is an amazing cook. Her chicken is delicious and the strawberries are freshly picked from the Roberts’ farm. If you’re not hungry now, you can eat it later.’ Without waiting for him to reply, she turned and walked quickly away from him, her long flowery skirt swirling around her body, outlining the soft curve of her hips.
He’d offended her. Or had he frightened her?
Conner watched her for a moment and then looked down at the basket and swore long and fluently. The day was not turning out as he’d planned. He lifted his gaze from the strawberries and stared after her retreating figure with a mixture of exasperation and anger.
He didn’t care that he’d offended her.
He really didn’t care.
It wasn’t as if he’d invited her here. He hadn’t asked her to follow him.
Caught in an internal battle, he opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind and closed it again, then growled with frustration and called out to her. ‘Do you like strawberries?’
She stopped and turned—slowly. ‘Yes. I love them.’
But she didn’t move and even from this distance Conner sensed her wariness and remembered what Logan had said about her being shy.
‘Good. Because there’s a large bowlful in this basket and I hate them.’ He dumped the basket on the ground and looked at her expectantly, but she still didn’t move.
‘Just eat the chicken, then.’
Realising that she wasn’t going to walk to him, he strolled towards her and suddenly saw what was different about her. ‘You’re not wearing your glasses.’
She lifted a hand to her cheek and shrugged self-consciously. ‘Contact lenses. I don’t usually wear them at work. I’m not a morning person and I’m never awake enough to risk putting my fingers into my eyes.’ She looked over his shoulder at the basket, which now lay abandoned on the soft grass. ‘I can take the strawberries with me, if they offend you that much.’
‘Or you can sit down and eat them here.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t think you were looking for company.’
‘If the strawberries aren’t eaten, I’ll hurt Evanna’s feelings.’
A smile touched her mouth. ‘I thought you didn’t care about other people’s feelings, Conner MacNeil.’
‘I don’t, but if I upset her, Logan will give me a black eye. And then the locals will think I’ve seduced someone’s wife or girlfriend. And I’m already in enough trouble.’
She laughed, as he’d intended. ‘You told me that you thrive on trouble.’
‘That’s just habit. I’ve never known anything else.’
Her laughter faded and she stared up into his face. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. It’s personal for you. Stressful. And you don’t want to talk about it, do you?’
He gave a twisted smile. ‘Let’s just say that if I talk, you wouldn’t like the language I’d choose to use.’
‘Use whatever language you please. I’m not as shockable as you seem to think I am.’
‘It would be all too easy to shock you, Flora.’ He thought of what his life had been and then he looked down at her gentle eyes and her soft mouth and wondered why he’d stopped her walking away. ‘I’m not the type of man who eats strawberries with girls in flowered skirts.’
‘You don’t like my skirt?’
‘You look…’ He gave a faint smile as he searched for the word that best described her. ‘Wholesome. Like an advert for that whipped cream in the basket.’
‘It’s Evanna’s whipped cream. And I don’t see what my skirt has to do with anything. Do you always push people away?’
‘I don’t have to. They usually run all by themselves.’
‘Well, I can’t run in these shoes.’
‘Is that right? In that case, you can sit down and help me eat this damn picnic.’
‘Where?’ Flora glanced towards the house and he made an impatient sound.
‘No way.’ He wasn’t going back in there. Instead, he took her hand, scooped up the basket and then led her down the path to the tiny cove at the bottom. The path was steep and stony but she didn’t falter, confident and sure-footed despite her comment about her shoes.
She was a local girl, he remembered. She’d spent her childhood pla
ying on these cliffs and exploring Glenmore’s rocky shores.
As they reached the sand, she slipped off her shoes and stooped to pick them up. ‘It’s pretty here. Really sheltered.’
‘Haven’t you been here before?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Honestly?’ She hesitated. ‘This beach is part of your property and we were too afraid of your father. Even Kyla.’
Conner gave a bitter laugh. ‘Lovely man, my father.’ He sat down on the sand and then glanced at her with a frown. ‘Did you bring something to sit on?’
She smiled and sat down on the sand next to him. ‘This is perfect.’ She reached into the basket and then glanced at him, her eyes twinkling. ‘Napkin?’
‘Of course,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’d hate to drop anything on my tuxedo.’
She laughed and passed him the bowl of chicken instead. ‘Try this. I guarantee it will taste better than anything you’ve ever eaten before, tuxedo or no tuxedo. I bumped into Diane Gregg in the supermarket this morning. She said Harry is feeling much better.’
‘Yes. I saw him in surgery yesterday. One of the advantages of being treated like a leper is that I have plenty of time for the patients that do want to see me.’ He bit into the chicken and flavours exploded on his palate. ‘You’re right—this is good.’
‘I have a boat, if you want to sail.’
Conner lifted an eyebrow. ‘Are you making a pass at me?’
The colour poured into her cheeks. ‘Of course not.’
‘But you’re offering to lend me your boat?’
‘Yes.’ She delved into the basket and pulled out some crusty bread. ‘Or we could sail together. You can sail it singlehanded but it’s more fun with two.’
‘I didn’t know you sailed.’
‘I suspect there’s quite a lot about me that you don’t know,’ she said calmly, and Conner gave a surprised laugh.
‘And what do you think the locals will say when they see you consorting with Bad Conner?’
Flora broke the bread in two and handed him half. ‘I suppose it might be sensible to avoid getting into trouble, just in case the lifeboat crew refuse to help.’