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‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m fine. Anyway, Dr Cameron here is going to help me for a little while. Let me take your temperature and blood-pressure. Any chest pain, swollen ankles or shortness of breath?’
She shook her head, temporarily silenced by the thermometer.
‘Peaceful, isn’t it?’ Rob joked, and Trudy punched his arm gently.
He grinned and took the thermometer out of her mouth. ‘Fine. Good. I’ll put some heparin in the next couple of bags to keep the fibrin down, so it doesn’t clog the tube, then I want to know if it comes back again or if the effluent quantity is down. OK?’
Trudy nodded sagely. ‘Shall I ring the clinic?’
He tapped her on the end of her nose. ‘No, madam, you shall not, I’ll do it. I’ll see you again in a day or two. Now, how about going to bed?’
He was quiet on the way back to the surgery, and so was Jamie. In fact, she was too shocked and moved to speak, her thoughts trapped by the tremendous courage of the little girl whose life was destined to be dominated by her dialysis. Over and over again medicine had shown her the vast resources of courage that people, and especially children, were able to tap in times of crisis. It was humbling, and awe-inspiring, and just then it made her want to cry.
She huddled down in the seat and turned her face to the window, staring out into the almost dark night. Although it was late, the night was clear and bright, the moon gleaming coldly on the rocks by the shore. It was a night for lovers, she thought sadly, a night made for strolling hand in hand—not for sitting beside a man who had made it clear he had no use for her.
She risked a quick glance at his stern profile, and swallowed. He looked angry—furiously so, and she wondered why.
‘She needs a transplant,’ he growled. ‘Poor bloody kid shouldn’t have to suffer like that! It makes me so cross—the number of people who die with perfectly healthy kidneys, and because they haven’t thought of carrying a donor card, a kid like Trudy is condemned to an abbreviated lifetime of constant dialysis.’
‘She’s got time,’ Jamie murmured soothingly. ‘Perhaps a kidney will turn up soon.’
‘Maybe.’
He turned the Land Rover on to the drive and cut the engine, and the quiet of the night stole over them, A dog was barking somewhere in the distance, and they sat for a moment absorbing the stillness. Then the front door was opened and a golden flood spilled out into the garden.
‘Call for you, Doctor. Mrs McRae—think’s she’s got a chest infection. And the babe won’t settle without a kiss from her father.’
He grinned. ‘I’ll give her won’t settle. Call Mrs McRae for me and tell her I’m coming, and I’ll sort Chloe out.’
He was in, upstairs, back down and off out again within five minutes. Mrs H took Jamie upstairs and showed her her room and the bathroom which she would share with the housekeeper and the baby.
‘Dr Buchanan’s got his own bathroom off his bedroom, so we’re quite private. I expect you’d like a bath and then something to eat, wouldn’t you? You look all in.’
Jamie agreed, and bathed quickly, dressing warmly in a tracksuit before running back downstairs. She found the kitchen by trial and error, and Mrs H turned to her with a smile.
‘Here you are, lass. Bacon and mushroom omelette and a cup of tea.’
Jamie returned the smile. ‘Thank you, you’re very kind. How did you know I was hungry?’
There was a motherly chuckle. ‘I didn’t, but it was a fair bet that you hadn’t eaten before you got here, and the doctor wouldn’t have given it a thought. If it wasn’t for me tying him down and force-feeding him three times a day, that man wouldn’t eat from one week’s end to the next.’
‘What about his wife?’ Jamie asked, and the housekeeper’s face lost its smile.
‘Away,’ she said briefly.
‘On holiday?’
She snorted. ‘You could say that.’
‘Oh.’ Jamie didn’t quite know what to make of that. ‘When’s she coming back?’
There was a slight sound behind her, and she turned, the blood draining from her face. She had never seen anyone look so angry in her entire life. Then he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.
She turned her bemused gaze back to the housekeeper, and the woman sank down at the table and covered Jamie’s hand. ‘Don’t let him frighten you—and don’t let him drive you away either. If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’
‘Tell me about his wife,’ Jamie pleaded.
The woman shook her head. ‘If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself. I’ll tell you this much, though. She’ll not be back, and good riddance. He doesn’t need her, and no more does the child—but I’ve said enough. Ask him—if you dare—but pick your moment. He’s awful touchy about it still.’
Jamie had noticed—and she had no intention of asking him about any such thing. Besides, it was by no means certain that she’d even get the chance!
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_30a1b12e-adb3-5eb4-986c-d24755912129)
IT WASN’T a good night. Between the strange bed, the uncertainty about her future and Rob Buchanan’s anger over her inquisitiveness, Jamie didn’t sleep much.
Her room was above the front door, and so she was aware of the exact number of times Rob was called out, and how long he was gone each time.
By five-thirty, when he left again, he had been in for precisely four hours, in three stretches, since the unfortunate scene in the kitchen—this on top of an already punishing schedule and at the start of a no doubt hectic week. Jamie sighed. Why was he so determined to get rid of her? Mrs H’s words came back to her. ‘If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’ Well, it was up to her to make him accept it—at least temporarily.
Throwing off the bedclothes, she made her way to the bathroom, had a quick wash and then dressed in the colourful and pretty tracksuit she had worn the previous night. With her trainers in her hand, she crept down the silent landing and tiptoed down the stairs, letting out her breath as she closed the kitchen door behind her. She put the kettle on and made a cup of tea, and then while it cooled she started her warm-up routine. She was standing head-down with her back to the door and her hands grasping one ankle when she heard a slight noise behind her. Peering through her legs, she saw a large pair of shoes at the bottom of impossibly long legs clad in lovat-green wool trousers.
She dropped her ankle as if it were red-hot and snapped upright.
‘Good morning.’
She shoved the hair off her face with both hands and turned reluctantly to face him, conscious of the flush on her cheeks and, strangely, every curve and hollow of her slender body. She tugged the tracksuit top down and tried for a smile.
‘Morning. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I haven’t had a better offer all day,’ he murmured. He hooked a chair with his foot and dropped wearily into it, one arm lying along the table-top with the elbow bent and his head propped on his hand.
She found another cup and filled it, then set it down beside him. His eyes were shut, and he looked absolutely exhausted. His skin was grey, the dark hair heavy on his brow in stark contrast. There were black shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollowed and deeply etched. He needed a shave, and the dark stubble did nothing to improve his appearance. He looked like a convict on the run, a man at the end of his tether. She stifled the urge to pull his head against her breast and smooth away the cares, instead perching on a chair near him and watching him with steady eyes.
After a few seconds a soft snore escaped him, and she realised he was asleep, bolt upright in the chair. Poor man. Poor, exhausted, stubborn, foolish man. She reached out and touched his arm lightly, and his eyes flickered and opened slowly.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered gruffly, and reached almost blindly for the tea.
‘Bad night,’ she stated gently, and he nodded.
‘Did I disturb you?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really, no.’
‘Just wondered. You’re up awful early.’
‘I was going for a run. It looks a lovely morning.’
He nodded. ‘It is.’ He cocked his head on one side. ‘Mind if I join you? I could do with a little fresh air.’
Well, what could she say? No, I want to be on my own? Yes, by all means, but keep your rotten temper to yourself?
‘That would be very nice,’ she said instead, and wondered why she didn’t choke on the lie. Still, it would give her a chance to be with him, and perhaps they could talk again about the practice. He couldn’t deny that he needed help, and she was ready, willing and able—not to mention having a contract in her handbag, which must surely mean something?
She stirred the dregs of her tea idly while he went and changed, and the thoughts ran endlessly round in a continuous loop, always coming back to the same thing—if Rob Buchanan wouldn’t let her help him, there was nothing she could do about it.
He was back quickly, and she pushed herself to her feet before she turned to look at him. Instantly, she wished she had remained seated, because he was dressed in nothing more than a pair of satin running shorts and a running vest that did nothing to hide him from her eyes, and he was hugely, overpoweringly—well, male, really, she thought with a last vestige of humour. It was just that the word man was suddenly redefined before her eyes, and it frankly took her breath away.
‘Ready?’
‘I—yes, of course.’ She pushed the chair under the table, took a deep breath and followed him down the hall. He stood back to hold the door for her, and she squeezed past him, skilfully avoiding contact. ‘Which way do we go?’ she asked quietly.
‘Up out of the village, along the glen and then back round to the coast road and home—about four miles. Is that OK?’
She nodded. Three miles was her usual run, but she hadn’t done it recently because of all the confusion and packing up and—well, she just hadn’t. Still, she could. ‘I’ll follow you,’ she said, and it was the last thing she managed for some time.
He set a punishing pace, and she fell into step behind him with a feeling of dread. Was he doing it on purpose? Probably. She gritted her teeth and tucked her head down, keeping just his heels in sight. It served two purposes. One, it stopped her having to see the length of the hill they were climbing—and two, she was less aware of the powerful legs with their liberal dusting of black hair pounding like pistons ahead of her. She spared him a glance, and shook her head slightly at what she saw.
Everything about him, from the immensely powerful shoulders, through the long arms and down the powerful column of his back to the taut buttocks and massive thighs that bunched with every stride—everything shrieked MAN. Jamie didn’t need that kind of distraction if she was going to have to fight with him about her job. The last thing she needed in a battle of the sexes was to be physically aware of him, or him of her, come to that. Thank God she was covered up—although as the run progressed and she heated up she wondered how long it would be before she wanted to tear off her top and let the air filter through her thin cotton T-shirt.
Too bad, she decided. Her bra was only so good, and although she was slim, she was also quite definitely a woman, and running was not calculated to make that go unnoticed. She kept the top on.
She was so busy in her thoughts that she didn’t realise they had reached the top of the hill, or that Rob was waiting for her. Consequently she cannoned into him, driving her breath out with a little ‘Ooof!’ and bringing a blush to her already warm cheeks. He steadied her with his hands, and she felt the shock all the way down to her toes.
‘You look hot,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘Why don’t you take off the top?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t want to have to carry it.’
‘I’ll carry it.’ He held out his hand, and she hesitated only a second.
Modesty be damned, she thought as she wrenched the suffocating top off. ‘I thought it would be cooler,’ she said lamely.
He knotted the sleeves around his trim waist and frowned at her. ‘Am I going too fast for you? You look a bit out of condition.’
‘It’s a few weeks since I went for a run,’ she confessed. More like a few months, she corrected herself, and made a conscious effort to slow her breathing.
‘All downhill now,’ he said with a grin. ‘Hell on the knees, but easy on the chest. Ready?’
She nodded weakly, and he set off, his long legs loping steadily down the slight incline. She kept up with him, but his stride was much longer than hers, and it wasn’t easy. Once she stumbled, and his hand shot out like lightning and grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.
‘OK?’
‘Yes—fine—just—thank you.’
She looked up and met his eyes, and a new respect dawned in them.
‘I’ll shorten my stride,’ he suggested, the ghost of a smile playing around his eyes, and she stifled the retort. Playing games with her, was he?
‘Don’t bother,’ she said, and led the way, her pace too fast but her pride flying high.
He caught up with her, shot her a grin and moved in front, deliberately racing ahead.
‘Show-off,’ she yelled after him, and dropped back to a more sensible speed. Her legs felt like jelly, and she wondered how much further it was. Rob was out of sight now, the bend ahead hiding him from view.
As she rounded the corner, he thrust himself away from the rock he was resting against and jogged up beside her.
‘Nearly there,’ he said with a smile, and she nodded briefly and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
They dropped down the last section of hill to the coast road, and then turned left, back towards the village. This stretch of road was by now familiar to Jamie, and she knew it could only be a mile or so at the most, but it seemed to stretch on forever.
Just when she felt she really couldn’t go on any longer, Rob tugged her to a halt at his side. ‘Let’s walk,’ he suggested. The view is breathtaking, isn’t it? It never fails to move me.’
They fell into step, his long legs slowing to accommodate her shorter stride, and as they walked, he pointed things out to her.
‘Salmon farm,’ he said, and she squinted into the rising sun.
‘Where?’
He moved round behind her, stretched out his arm and pointed. ‘Look along my arm,’ he instructed, and she rested her cheek against his forearm and looked.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, distracted. His skin was cool and damp, covered with a fine sheen of moisture, and his body, so close behind her, smelt of soap and healthy exercise and a strange, heady fragrance that called to some long-buried primitive part of her.
She moved away.
‘Rob, about what you overheard last night——’
He stiffened. ‘Forget it.’
‘I can’t,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t want you to think I was prying.’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘No! At least, not intentionally. My father always said I leap in where angels fear to tread, but last night it didn’t occur to me that there was anything to pry into. Obviously Chloe has or has had a mother, and a child of that age isn’t usually brought up by the father on his own. It wasn’t an unreasonable mistake to make.’
He was silent for a while, and then sighed, running his big hands through his hair. She thought he looked resigned.
‘I’m sorry, I tend to over-react.’
Tell me about her,’ Jamie prompted gently.
He gave a brief snort. ‘I thought Mrs Harrison already did that.’
‘No.’ Jamie stopped him with a hand on his arm and turned him to face her. ‘She only told me she was away and wasn’t coming back. Nothing else.’
‘What else is there?’ he said bleakly.
‘There’s why.’
He shot her a black look. ‘Your father was right. You’re an interfering baggage.’
