Return of Dr Maguire (Mills & Boon Medical) (19 page)

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Does it matter? OK, I didn’t tell you at first because I thought you would think precisely what you’ve just said—that I was just doing what my mother wished. But I believed that now you’d only be thrilled that it was what she had wanted...’ He came closer to her, holding her gaze. ‘Surely you know that now I want you to marry me anyway?’

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then said bitterly, ‘I don’t know what I believe any more, Lachlan.’

Then, before Lachlan could stop her, she’d opened the kitchen door and was running through the courtyard and down the road to the village, with Titan bounding beside her.

Her head was spinning with conflicting emotions—she’d fallen for Lachlan Maguire, she’d hoped he was falling for her too. But she was damned if she was just going to be the means of assuaging his guilt about his mother, just fulfilling his mother’s wishes. She needed Lachlan to love her for herself alone, not because a voice from the grave had told him to! She reached her house and went in, slamming the door as hard as she could behind her. As far as she was concerned, she’d had it with romance!

* * *

Lachlan started after her, then gradually slowed down, watching her figure disappear into the distance. He shook his head in bewilderment.

‘Well done, Maguire,’ he muttered sarcastically to himself. ‘You handled that very well—managed to make Christa feel really desired and needed.’

He drove his hands hard into his pockets in frustration. Why the hell had he shown her that letter now? He loved Christa, wanted to be with her always, wanted to show her that all men weren’t feckless heartbreakers like that bloody man Colin, and all he’d succeeded in doing had been to make her feel she was just his mother’s choice, not his. He’d been a complete and utter fool.

At first he had scorned his mother’s wish that he should marry Christa. Now it seemed she was all that he wanted and more. After all these years of shunning close relationships, he’d found someone he loved and needed.

‘I’m not going to let her go without a fight,’ he told himself grimly. ‘Somehow I’ll get her back!’

* * *

It wasn’t easy for Christa to maintain a natural atmosphere between the two of them at work that week. She took great care to keep her distance, and meetings were brisk and to the point. Often she would look across at Lachlan covertly, and then think her heart would break because he looked so wonderful. But she’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? He didn’t really love her—he’d grow tired of her, just as Colin had done, and find someone else. She had to remember her friend Suzy’s warning.

No, there wouldn’t be any happy-ever-after and wedding bells. Lachlan Maguire wanted to settle down merely out of a sense of duty to his mother.

She took paperwork home with her rather than do it in the surgery after hours, as she used to do. She couldn’t bear the thought of bumping into Lachlan when there was no one else there to dilute the meeting.

Towards the end of the week, while Christa and Lachlan were sorting out their mail, Alice said brightly, ‘Looking forward to the dance? We’ve got a really big crowd coming this year.’

Christa felt, rather than saw, Lachlan glance towards her, then thought with spirit that she wasn’t going to stay in because of her rift with Lachlan.

‘Sure I am,’ she said lightly. ‘It’ll be good fun!’

Lachlan flicked an intense glance at Christa. ‘I can’t wait,’ he said grimly, ‘I love dancing.’

Alice giggled. ‘Well, I’m bagging you for a dance before you’re killed in the rush!’

A tantalising picture formed in Christa’s imagination of herself drifting across the floor with Lachlan, held close to his body, his cheek against hers, his heart beating close to hers... How wonderful that would have been, she thought wistfully, but now...

She couldn’t avoid being alone with him altogether, of course. On the Friday before the dance Lachlan drove up beside her in the car park, and leaping out of the car barred her way as she tried to go up the ramp to the surgery.

‘For God’s sake, Christa, can’t we talk to each other? This is totally ridiculous! If you won’t answer my texts or e-mails then speak to me face to face! We are two adults after all.’

Christa shook her head, trying to ignore the effect that his powerful frame, so very close to her, was having on her libido. ‘Lachlan, surely you don’t expect me to keep seeing you when it’s all about Isobel’s wishes, not yours! A marriage based on that just wouldn’t work!’

He seized her arm. ‘You little fool, can’t you see I love you? Nothing to do with that bloody letter or your damned uncle. Believe me, honey, when I made love to you I forgot all about any reservations I may have had to start with, or that you were a Lennox. Frankly, I couldn’t give a toss—you are you, and that is all I care about.’

And for a moment perhaps she was tempted. There was something about the soft intensity of his voice, the look of yearning in his eyes that made her long to be held in his arms. And then she thought of her bitter experience before of a broken love affair. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

Several times she’d wondered if she should leave the practice and look for a job elsewhere, rather than endure this stilted relationship. Now she was sure she would have to do just that and try and start again. Her mother had Bertie and she didn’t need her around any more—there was no reason to stay in the area.

She got into the car and drove off, leaving Lachlan alone in the car park.

* * *

Lachlan watched Christa go in despair, and yet he understood her reaction. He’d mishandled the whole situation and he just didn’t know what to do next. He needed to talk to someone—someone with a bit of sense. He decided to ring John Davies, his solicitor—at least he’d listen, even if he couldn’t advise!

A girl with a pram was crossing the drive. She was thin and shabbily dressed and vaguely familiar. She looked up at Lachlan and gave a sudden smile.

‘Hello, Doc!’ she said. ‘I had the baby!’

Preoccupied as he was, Lachlan didn’t recognise her at first. She grinned at him.

‘Don’t remember me, do you? It’s Lindsay Cooper. I came into the surgery a few weeks back...you sorted me out.’

‘Of course, I do remember you, Lindsay. You’re Greg’s girl, aren’t you?’ Lachlan sighed inwardly—he had to show interest, however depressed he was. ‘What did you have?’

‘A little lad,’ said Lindsay proudly. ‘I was going to bring him in to show you...wanted you to know what we’d called him!’

‘And what have you called him?’

‘We’ve decided on Lachlan—that’s your name, isn’t it? You helped save Greg’s life and you helped me.’ She smiled shyly at him. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

Lachlan was touched. ‘I’m honoured, Lindsay. Let me see your little son.’ He peered under the hood of the pram at the baby, rosy-cheeked and sleeping with a dusting of blond hair. ‘He’s beautiful—congratulations to both of you. How is Greg?’

‘They say he’ll be out of hospital soon, and social services have found us a little flat.’

‘So things are going well, then?’

Lindsay’s thin little face lit up. ‘Yeah—couldn’t be better! Will you let that other doc know—tell her thanks. If I’d had a girl I’d have called her Christa!’

‘Yes. I’ll tell her if I see her,’ sighed Lachlan.

* * *

The village hall was an old square building situated at the edge of the village on a slight hill overlooking the sea. It had been dimly lit to make it look what was optimistically called ‘atmospheric’ by the committee of the annual charity dance. An attempt to make the place look festive had been provided by little paper lanterns hung across the ceiling, and a local DJ was testing the microphone, by intoning, ‘One two, one two,’ into it, his voice booming out over the hum of conversation.

The staff from the Ardenleigh Medical Practice were seated at a table in the corner, Alice sitting on the knee of her current boyfriend and Ginny next to her tubby little husband, Barry.

She should have been on top of the world, thought Christa sadly. Instead, she felt about as festive as a bear with a sore tooth, forcing herself to laugh at Ben’s weak jokes and greeting all the locals with a smile.

It had been an ordeal to come, but she was determined that she was not going to do a rerun of her experience with Colin and opt out of everything when their romance had ended. Her heart might be broken yet again, but this time she was going to push it to the back of her mind, keep her life going, even though she felt on edge every time anyone fresh came into the hall, in case it was Lachlan Maguire. She half wanted him to come, to show him that she could do without him, and half hoped he wouldn’t because she was afraid her heart would break when she saw him.

‘You look fantastic, Christa—that apricot colour’s just gorgeous,’ said Sarah, the practice nurse. ‘I wish I could wear something like that—the trouble is, with my figure I’m limited to things that hide it rather than show it!’

‘You look great,’ protested Christa. ‘I feel a little self-conscious really—there isn’t much room for manoeuvre in this...’

‘You don’t need to do much manoeuvring,’ said Sarah drily. ‘Just stand there and look fantastic!’

There were so many people there Christa knew—Richie from the gym, John Davies the solicitor, friends from her running group. Soon she would have to give in her notice to the practice and all these old friends would know that she was leaving. She took a deep swig of the cheap wine that was on offer and hoped it would help to deaden the pain she was feeling.

By now the disco was blasting away at full volume and Ginny and Barry were doing a very stylish quickstep, with much twirling and sidestepping. Alice and her boyfriend were swaying together with their arms around each other, their eyes closed, oblivious to the rest of the room. Christa leant against the wall and put the cool glass to her hot cheeks, an oppressive headache starting to throb behind her eyes. She closed them tiredly.

The voice in her ear was so familiar, deep and resonant. ‘Christa, I’m glad you’ve come. I wasn’t sure whether you’d make it or not. But we need to talk,
please
.’

Her eyes flew open, and her heart lurched when she saw Lachlan standing in front of her, looking ultra-cool in a cream shirt, open to the neck, and navy chinos.

For a second speech eluded her, then she said tightly, ‘We can’t talk here, Lachlan—not in a crowded dance hall.’

‘Then let’s go somewhere else.’ His eyes wandered over her slim figure, the way her dress moulded to every curve and how the apricot colour enhanced her glowing skin. ‘My God, Christa—I can’t bear this,’ he said roughly. ‘You look quite...beautiful.’ He hesitated and then said huskily, ‘Please, let’s have a dance together—just one.’

‘That’s not a good idea, Lachlan,’ she said unsteadily. ‘You...you don’t need to have a duty dance with me.’

‘For God’s sake,’ he said savagely.’ His hand took her bare arm and she shivered, feeling the flickers of desire going through her like a hot knife through butter.

‘If you don’t trust me, if you really want us to part, think of it as a “last waltz”. We can’t end like this, with no communication at all!’

The words ‘we can’t end like this’ echoed sadly in Christa’s ears. She wanted him, oh, how she wanted him, longed for everything to be as it had been before when she’d thought he loved her for herself alone... Just one more time, then. She offered no resistance when he put his arm around her waist and pressed her body fiercely to his.

It was a kind of torture, reminding her of their lovemaking only a few days ago, when his body had locked with hers and they had been as one. He put his cheek to hers and she could smell the scent of soap on him, the slight roughness of his chin, feel his legs against hers as they moved in unison to the beat of the music.

It was as if they were welded together—and it was wonderful and terrible at the same time. Would this really be the last time she would ever be so close to him, ever feel his breath on her face, his lips tracing a trail of little kisses down her neck?

‘Stop it!’ she whispered fiercely in his ear. ‘I don’t want to do this...it’s not fair! People will see us and get the wrong idea!’

‘Rubbish, the lights are too low for anyone to see anything.’ He smiled, his arm tightening around her.

God, how beautiful she felt against him, thought Lachlan, an aching sadness somewhere around his heart. Her hair had a faint fresh smell, her body felt sexy and curvy under her silk dress, and he felt an indescribable longing for her. He’d been a bungling idiot, not realising how bruised and damaged she’d been after her experience with Colin Maitland. He looked down at her, seeing her long lashes lying against the curve of her cheek.

‘Christa...Christa, darling, give me a chance to explain. Don’t let us part like this.’

With a great effort she pulled away from him, suddenly unable to bear the paradox of being so close to him physically yet so distant from him in other ways.

‘There’s nothing to explain,’ she said lightly. ‘No hard feelings at all. And now, if you don’t mind, I want to sit down.’

She sat rigidly in the chair, tossing back the rest of her wine, and he sat next to her—silence between them. Then eventually Lachlan got up and walked out of the room.

‘Ah! Christa!’ said a jolly voice. ‘How about a turn on the floor? I’m not much good, but if you can put up with me?’

John Davies, the solicitor, was beaming down at her. She knew him quite well, having had to deal with him when Isobel had died. She smiled and jumped up, glad to take her mind off Lachlan.

They started off round the floor, John taking everything rather slowly and carefully and holding her as if she was made of delicate china.

Eventually he began to relax and said jovially, ‘So what do you think of Lachlan’s idea of putting Ardenleigh on the market?’

Christa stiffened with surprise and stopped moving, causing them both to stumble. ‘Put Ardenleigh on the market?’ she repeated in amazement. ‘When did he tell you that?’

John looked flustered. ‘Oh, dear. That was most indiscreet and unprofessional of me. I really thought you knew. He came to see me late this morning.’