English Doctor, Italian Bride

by Carol Marinelli

  Hugh had been her first real kiss.

  Not her first kiss—oh, there had been plenty of them, half-baked efforts at the local disco.

  No, Hugh had been her first real kiss.

  Real, because he’d been the first one who had truly moved her.

  Real, because as he’d held her, as this stunning man had held her in his arms, she’d understood every warning her father had given her, every speech her mother had made that a kiss could lead to other things.

  Closing her eyes, she remembered the awful row she’d had with her mother.

  She’d been just shy of eighteen, in her last year of high school, studying like crazy for her exams. She had, after a lot of persuading, been allowed to go to her best friend’s eighteenth birthday, yet her mother had insisted that she be home from the party by eleven. The first to leave, she hadn’t got home till twelve and had stood angrily and defiantly in the kitchen as Carmel had ripped into her. Only that time Bonita hadn’t said sorry.

  Bonita had known she’d had nothing to be sorry for. She had left all her friends partying the night away, her homework had been up to date, and she’d still worked part time in the shop. Bonita had known she couldn’t do it any more, couldn’t live like that a moment longer, and she wouldn’t. She told her mother she was leaving home, that she was going to share a flat, was going to have a life.

  She hadn’t even known that Hugh had been there—he’d been trying to sleep in the lounge and had heard every word. But the next morning, when her brother Paul—because it was OK for him to be—had been in bed nursing a hangover and her parents had been at church, no doubt praying for her imagined sins, Hugh had come into the kitchen. He’d found her in her thick candlewick dressing-gown, her eyes swollen from crying, and had tried to say the right thing.

  ‘I hate her,’ Bonita snarled.

  ‘She just worries about you!’

  ‘Why?’ Angry, hurting, furious, it was all there in her words as she paced the kitchen. ‘Because I’m a girl…’

  ‘And because you’re the youngest, because you’ve got three older brothers, because they had you late in life.’

  ‘I’m eighteen in a couple of weeks, I could be married and have children by now, I’m learning to drive, I’ll be at university next year. I’ve had it with her—I’m going to leave. Today, when they get home from church, I’m going to tell them properly. I’m going to get a job, find a flat…’

  ‘Don’t leave home, Bonny!’ Hugh came over to where she stood. ‘Not now.’

  ‘You did!’ Bonita pointed out. She was furious now, crying hot, angry tears, hands flailing, blaming him somehow. ‘You left the country when you were eighteen—I’m not allowed out the house after eleven! I’m not a child.’

  ‘Come here.’ He cuddled her then—and it felt nice. They hadn’t ever really got on. Oh, she’d had a crush on him for years, but he’d teased her so mercilessly, had been so downright horrible at times, that it hadn’t been hard to dislike him, too. But when he held her, for the first time she felt that someone might just understand. Her brothers didn’t, they just told her to toe the line and not upset Mum and Dad, and her parents certainly didn’t, and neither did her friends, who told her to just tell her parents where they could stick there rules. But standing in the kitchen Bonita realised two things.

  Armstrong was an appropriate surname for him, because being wrapped in his arms was heaven.

  And maybe, just maybe, Hugh was the one person on this earth who did understand.

  ‘Your dad’s just worried that you’re going to—’

  ‘It’s not Dad who’s the problem,’ Bonita interrupted, shaking her head against his chest. ‘It’s Mum. She’s the one who’s always having a go—she called me a tart last night before I went out, just for wearing lipstick.’

  ‘If your dad had seen you wearing lipstick you wouldn’t have been allowed to even go to the party!’ Hugh patiently explained, only she wasn’t listening, couldn’t see it, refused to get it.

  It was her mother who was the problem!

  ‘I just can’t stand it here.’

  ‘You don’t have to for much longer,’ Hugh said. ‘Do your exams, get your grades and maybe when you go to university things will settle down, but you can’t throw it all away now.’

  She nearly had. That morning, replaying the row, three months more at school had seemed endless, way easier to just leave, to get a job, to do anything if it meant that she could get away, to be allowed to live. And then he’d held her.

  ‘Don’t do anything rash, you could end up regretting it for ever.’

  For ever was a lot longer than three months…even her jumbled mind could work that one out. Her head on his chest, she could hear the steady beat of his heart, the hands of time that soothed, only they didn’t…

  The pendulum paused on the edge of time, dipped into the next second and clattered back into a different rhythm.

  His mouth was there, just inches away, talking to her, telling her to hold on, delivering reasonable words that soothed. Only suddenly she was aware of it…and she knew that suddenly he was aware of her, in a way he never had been before. Everything shifted then. A slightly startled look flashed between them as they both caught the other looking in a way they shouldn’t. And then he kissed her…or she kissed him.

  No matter how many times Bonita replayed it, she could never quite decide who moved first, just lips merging, blending to the most exquisite of tastes. His mouth tender at first, exploring her slowly, her inexperienced lips tentative, savouring each delicious sensation, the feel of him full on her mouth, the tangy fragrance and the soft coolness of his tongue.

  And then she found her level, or their level, because suddenly they were equal. Urgency ignited in her, a chain reaction that had every cell flickering to light. Craving contact, she pushed into him as he received her, his fingers knotting in her hair—and she was grateful for the kitchen bench pressing into her back, not because it held her up but because he could push harder. Without breaking contact, his mouth left hers, trailed down her chin, deep kisses on her throat as still he held her hair, deep, deep kisses that stirred her even deeper inside. His hands moved from her hair now, tracing down her back and then around to her front, to breasts that ached to be in his palms. Now, apart from the soft fabric of her dressing-gown, they were. A soft moan from him as still he kissed her, his thumb stroking her nipple, his other hand just holding her waist, and it was like being stroked inside. She could hear their ragged breathing, could feel this growing urgency, this need for more contact, a shameless, wondrous, primal need building to a new target now, a tender kiss tipping into danger.

  Oh, her mother had been right. Kisses really could lead to other things,

  Wonderful other things like a dressing-gown parting and the soft moan in his throat at the feel of her naked flesh in his palm, soft, soft strokes that made him hard.

  Bonita knew that because she could feel him against her, and she wanted more. She wanted his skin on hers. Lifting his T-shirt with urgent hands, she pressed herself against him, kissing him as still he kissed her. She forgot they were in the kitchen, things like time and place were utterly meaningless, until he broke contact, pulled his head away, then peeled his body from hers.

  ‘Bonny…’ She could hear him struggle to right himself, his single word an apology almost, only there was no need. She truly didn’t want it to end, rained his face with hot, desperate kisses as he pushed her back and again, no matter how many times she replayed it, she still didn’t know if it was because he’d heard her parents’ car that he’d pulled away. She only knew that moments later her parents were in the kitchen, Bonita, flustered and trying to behave normally, making a drink, trying to remember she was supposed to be angry, while inside her heart was singing as Hugh, for once not so calm and together, sat at the kitchen table and attempted to chat to her father.

  Staring at the ceiling now, tears pooling in her eyes then trickling into her hair, it was hard to believe
that she’d been so happy—that with just one kiss everything had turned around, everything difficult in her life had been made suddenly more bearable.

  Till six hours later when he’d broken her heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘BONNY!’ A rather firm rap at the door broke into her dreams, but Bonita chose to ignore it, safe in the knowledge her mother wouldn’t come in. Growing up in a house with three older brothers, one of the few productive rows they’d had now assured her a touch of privacy.

  “You’ve got a visitor!’

  ‘Mmm…’

  ‘Bonny!’ Her mother rapped harder on the door. ‘Wake up, Hugh’s here!’

  ‘Oh!’

  And given he’d been in her room a moment before, though in her dreams, Bonita flushed in embarrassment as she mumbled her mother to come in. She was grateful that at least he did have the decency to wait outside as Carmel arranged her daughter into suitable doctor-visit order.

  ‘Hugh rang last night after you’d gone to bed,’ Carmel explained, ‘and said he’d come and check you over, to save us the trip to the hospital.’

  ‘You could have told me!’ Bonita muttered, as her mother helped her sit up, which wasn’t easy, the local anaesthetic Hugh had injected having long since worn off and she was stiff from sleeping. Her hair, despite a generous dose of product, was no doubt looking spectacularly wild! Not that Hugh would care a jot—he was more than used to seeing people at their absolute worst, Bonita consoled herself as he breezed in. He reeked of his signature cologne and even minus a suit and dressed casually he still cut a dash. Long limbed in black jeans and grey T-shirt, he made her already small bedroom positively tiny as he loomed over her.

  ‘Let me just have a quick look at your shoulder and then you can go back to sleep.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Bonita glanced at her bedside clock, glad to see Carmel had placed a mug of tea there. ‘It isn’t even eight.’

  Perhaps realising she couldn’t function without at least a sip of tea in her, he handed her her mug. ‘Have a drink.’

  ‘Thanks for this, Hugh,’ Carmel said. ‘It really is a huge help. Do you want to stay and have some breakfast?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Hugh answered easily. ‘In fact, why don’t you go to church? I don’t mind hanging around for a bit.’

  ‘I don’t need a babysitter.’ Bonita grumbled. ‘I’ve only hurt my shoulder.’

  ‘I’m not here for you!’ Hugh drawled. ‘I want to have a chat with your dad.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Carmel protested, only not too much—she was already halfway out of the door. ‘If I get a move on I can make nine a.m. Mass.’

  It was weird being alone with him, weird that her mother had left him with her.

  ‘I can’t believe she’s actually left me alone with a man in my bedroom…’ Bonita attempted a joke only Hugh didn’t smile.

  ‘I’m not a man this morning,’ he clipped, ‘I’m a doctor!’

  It was Hugh’s first visit to Bonita’s bedroom. The house had been a second home to him during his med-school years, but apart from popping his head around and telling a moody, spotty teenager to finish her homework and that dinner was ready, or her mother wanted her to turn the music down, he’d never once set foot over the threshold of this room.

  And it was exquisitely uncomfortable to do so now, especially after yesterday’s little revelation!

  He thought he’d put that to bed years ago—or, rather, very deliberately hadn’t put that to bed years ago.

  Since his return to Australia, Bonny had made it exceptionally clear she neither liked nor forgave him—which meant he knew where he stood. Oh, sure, people said strange things when they went under sedation, but it was more the way that she’d said it, the note of urgency in her voice, the frantic look in her eyes that had him reeling.

  And jokes about him being allowed in her bedroom were certainly not the order of the day, but he felt a touch guilty for his very harsh tone when Bonny’s face flushed in embarrassment.

  ‘I was only joking,’ she mumbled.

  ‘I know.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Hideous nightdress, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Hideous it may be, but it was also vast, which meant he only had to move it a fraction to expose her shoulder. Hugh swiftly checked it for position and numbness then checked the sensation in each of her fingers before declaring that she’d probably live.

  ‘You’ve got one helluva bruise there.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Which will get worse over the next couple of days.’

  ‘I know that, too.’

  ‘You need to take your painkillers.’

  ‘I promise not to be brave,’ she joked, and this time he did smile back. ‘Was I awful yesterday?’

  ‘You were…’ His smile widened. ‘Well, the word stoic doesn’t spring to mind.’

  ‘It never does with me!’ Bonita pouted. ‘It did really hurt, though. I’m going to be much more sympathetic to patients now.’

  ‘You’re always lovely to the patients.’ It was the first compliment he’d paid her since they’d worked alongside each other, and it must have caught Hugh by surprise because he quickly snapped back to business mode. ‘Right, you’re your GP’s problem now. I’ve signed you off work for the next four weeks, but make an appointment to see your GP this week. Keep the immobiliser on at all times for a couple of days, but after that you can take it off to have a shower but you must wear a sling or something…you know the drill.

  ‘Here!’ He placed a sick certificate and a letter for her GP on her dressing-table. ‘Consider yourself discharged!’

  ‘Thanks very much—’ Bonita attempted to be gracious ‘—for yesterday, and for coming out to see me today.’

  ‘Happy to help. I know how busy your mum is at the moment.’

  ‘Well, thanks anyway.’

  ‘Why don’t you go back to sleep?’

  Fat chance of that! Bonita thought after Hugh had gone downstairs. She’d already been asleep for twelve hours and, listening to the laughter and chatter coming from the kitchen, she wished she could just get up and join in. She wished she could grin and joke and pick up the baton with Hugh the way the rest of her family had—even go back to the teasing and banter they’d once shared when she’d just been Paul’s annoying little sister.

  One kiss, he’d told her, as he’d broken her heart.

  One kiss, that for Hugh had meant absolutely nothing!

  But it had been more than a kiss, she knew it had been, and had tearfully told him that.

  Harshly—extremely harshly—he had made it exceptionally clear that she was wrong!

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, that’s what guys do when a girl’s there…’ His face was as hard and cold and expressionless as granite as he plunged in the knife. ‘That’s what guys do when it’s available. You need to be more careful…and you need to grow up, Bonny. You need to stop embarrassing everyone and get over the stupid crush you’ve had on me for years and get on with your life.’

  Even six years on, his words still hurt, made her blush to her roots, made her want to curl up and die with shame.

  How, Bonita thought, gingerly levering herself out of bed, was she supposed to pick up the baton and carry on as before after that?

  ‘Oh, you’re up! I’ll put on some eggs.’ Shuffling into the kitchen, she knew she probably looked a fright in her mother’s nightdress with her old dressing-gown on her good arm. Her hair was no doubt at all angles, but she was past caring as she joined Hugh and her father at the table where her father, looking a lot brighter this morning, was reading the newspaper.

  With some difficulty, her good hand shaking with the weight, Bonita poured herself a cup of tea from the very full pot. She saw the smirk of amusement in Hugh’s eyes.

  ‘Ask and you shall receive!’

  ‘I can manage, thanks!’ Bonita said, spilling half the pot as she did so.

  ‘Give me your keys, Bonny, and I’ll drive into town aft
er church,’ Carmel called from the cooker. ‘I can drop into the flat and grab a few of your clothes and toiletries and things!’

  ‘I’ll come with you!’ Bonita croaked.

  ‘There isn’t time for you to get ready for church and I’m not going to come all the way back just to pick you up! Just give me your keys and tell me anything you want me to fetch!’

  Hugh was grinning like a Cheshire cat at her discomfort. Unseen by her parents, he pulled a look of mock horror as Bonita squirmed in her chair, imagining her mother dressed in her Sunday best bursting in on Emily and heaven knew who else! And…Oh, no, Bonita thought, drenched suddenly with a cold sweat. Her pills were in her bedside drawer…

  ‘Help!’ Hating it that she had to, but hating the prospect of her mother’s wrath more, she mouthed the word to him, only he wasn’t looking at her. Hugh just poured a cup of tea and sort of smiled to himself, then, catching her frantic eyes, his smile widened into a lazy grin.

  ‘Actually, Carmel…’ He looked over at Bonita’s mother. ‘I’m going into town today. Bonny, why don’t you ring your flatmate and ask her to pack up some of your things into a case? I can drop it off to you tonight.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Carmel frowned. ‘We can’t ask you to do that!’

  ‘It’s really not a problem.’ Hugh shrugged. ‘I’m going that way anyway.’

  ‘Well, you must stay for dinner when you bring the case! All the boys will be here,’ Carmel said casually, making her way over to the table, as if it was a regular occurrence that her three sons just happened to be coming over this Sunday. ‘It will be nice to have everyone together.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Hugh said. ‘I’ll just drop off the case.’

  But her parents couldn’t take a hint if it slammed into them at a hundred miles an hour. It wouldn’t enter their heads that Hugh might have a million places he’d rather be on a rare weekend off!

  ‘Come for dinner!’ Luigi ordered. ‘It will be like old times.’

  Carmel gave a tight smile, and deposited two boiled eggs with the tops still on and a round of unbuttered toast on the table. Bonita realised that any maternal instinct her mother had displayed last night had seemingly drained away with the bath water as she sped off to get ready for church and left Bonita to deal with her breakfast.