The sudden arrival of an enthusiastic and very wet dog startled her. The black-and-white cocker spaniel dropped a disreputable-looking tennis ball at her feet and grinned up at her, tongue lolling as it panted happily, stubby tail wagging twenty to the dozen.
‘Hello there.’ She smiled, bending to stroke the dog. ‘Where did you come from?’
She glanced around to see if the owner was in sight, alarmed when she recognised Conor approaching. Oh, help. Her insides tightened at the sight of him dressed in a pair of faded jeans that lovingly hugged his legs like a second skin and a well-worn waxed jacket pulled over a fleecy jumper. He was impossibly good-looking. As he neared her, she noticed the frayed rip in one leg of his jeans, which afforded a tantalising glimpse of his thigh. Her traitorous fingers itched to touch, to explore. She turned to avoid his gaze and continued walking, unsurprised when he fell into step beside her, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as he threw the ball, the dog bounding away to retrieve it.
‘Hi, Kate.’
The warm huskiness of his accented voice raised prickles on her skin. ‘Hi. Have you suddenly acquired a dog?’ she said, cursing her inane words.
‘Sadly not. This is Toby,’ he said as the dog raced back to them. Conor threw the ball once more. ‘He belongs to old Dave Mackay in the village. Dave can’t get out much now so he lets me borrow Toby for a walk.’
Making out that Dave was doing him the favour and not the other way round, which was typical of the Conor she was coming to know and which made him all the more dangerous to her resolve to stay away from him. They walked on for a while in silence, enjoying the tranquillity, and she indulged herself, watching Conor play with Toby. Concerned things were becoming too companionable, she decided to leave Conor to his walk with the dog and turn back before she reached the rugged headland where the rocky cliff sloped down to meet the sea.
‘I’m going to head home now.’ She halted, raising a hand to push her windblown hair out of her eyes.
‘I’ll walk back with you.’
Her heart thudded. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I know.’ Conor faced her, the expression in those incredible green eyes far too intimate. She held her breath as he reached out to catch a wayward strand of hair, his fingers brushing her skin as he tucked it behind her ear. ‘I want to. Besides,’ he added, fingers lingering before he turned and whistled for the dog, ‘I don’t keep Toby out too long. He’s Dave’s only company.’
She bit her lip to silence further protests as they retraced their path back along the shore towards the village, which nestled in the wooded glen at the foot of the hills.
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ Conor asked, throwing the tennis ball for Toby again.
Kate glanced at him warily. Did he never give up? ‘Just some things at home.’
‘It’s supposed to be a beautiful day, according to the weather forecast. A shame to spend it all indoors.’ He slipped Toby’s lead back on as they moved up off the beach. ‘If you like walking, you ought to see Glen Trool while you’re here and get up in the hills.’
‘It sounds interesting. I’ll do that some time,’ she agreed, keen to put distance between them.
‘I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow. Dress warm and wear walking boots if you have them.’
Shocked, she stared at him, disconcerted by the teasing smile and the knowing look in his green eyes. ‘But I—’
‘See you in the morning.’
Without giving her a chance to respond, he dropped a brief kiss on her startled lips and then strode off up a side road, Toby trotting beside him. Bewildered, she watched his retreating figure, the fingers of one hand pressing to her mouth where the feel of his gentle kiss lingered. Pulling herself together, she walked the short distance to the surgery, anxious for the sanctuary of her flat above. Conor made her feel out of control and she didn’t like it. Why was he so determined to spend time with her? She wouldn’t go tomorrow. Of course she wouldn’t. She’d make up an excuse and put him off. Avoiding him would be much better for both of them. Feeling better about things, she made herself some hot chocolate and settled down to catch up on her medical journals. Everything would be fine. She would tell Conor she had changed her mind.
So why did she find herself sitting beside him on Sunday morning as he drove through the forest to a car park by Loch Trool? When Conor had arrived she had opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t going but her protests had been silenced by his boyish enthusiasm and her common sense had vanished—again. There had been a difficult moment when she had put on her walking boots, her gaze drawn to the dust of Africa that still lingered in the grooves and crevices from the last time she had worn them.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘N-nothing.’ Fingers shaking, she had tied the laces, pushing the memories aside, her throat tightening when she had straightened and her gaze had clashed with his, the green eyes reflecting a disturbing mix of concern, puzzlement and interest.
Conor eased her nerves by keeping off personal topics on the drive, telling her about the area they were visiting, the history of the Galloway hills, the Covenanters and Robert the Bruce, the bloodshed of centuries past hard to imagine with the tranquil beauty around them.
‘What on earth have you got in here?’ she complained as she helped heave his rucksack out of the boot of the car.
Green eyes shone with amusement. ‘A few essentials. And a picnic lunch.’
‘You said a walk, not a day trip!’
‘You’ll love it,’ he promised. ‘Everything we’ll need is in there and I’ve left note of our route and expected return time.’
Even the weather had obeyed him. It was a warm spring day, the sky was clear and the sun shone over some of the most glorious scenery she had ever seen. Conor shouldered his pack as if it weighed nothing and gestured across the car park.
‘Before we head up in the hills, come and see Bruce’s Stone,’ he suggested, leading the way a few hundred metres down the path and out to a small promontory where the stone stood.
‘Wow,’ she breathed, taking in the view across the loch.
‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ Conor smiled and she was far too aware of his presence beside her. ‘Wait until we get higher up.’
Conor breathed in the freshness of the air and tried to remember when he had last felt so contented. He didn’t push the pace, aware Kate wasn’t used to this, delighted to spend time with her, especially being able to share one of his favourite places. It was clear she had been going to back out that morning but he’d managed to breeze it out. There had been a peculiar moment when she had put on her boots. She had gone into a trance, just like that day at Nic and Hannah’s, but the dark inner pain in her eyes when she had looked up had torn at his gut. Now she seemed to be enjoying her surroundings. After her initial fears that first day she had settled beautifully into her doctor role and everyone loved her, patients and staff alike. Outside work she held something of herself back and he knew she refused offers of social company, not just his own. She wasn’t unfriendly, just private and guarded, protecting herself. Kate intrigued him more with every passing day.
‘The Merrick is the highest mountain in south-west Scotland,’ he told her when they stopped for a break. ‘In fact, the Galloway hills are known as “The Highlands of the South”.’
They walked on, pausing often to admire the views, and he pointed out things of note, finding Kate an avid listener. She showed a keen interest in everything, asking questions as they passed from the glen to the uplands, the glacial landscape becoming more remote, changing to moorland and mountains. He was surprised to discover that Kate wasn’t as physically fit as he’d anticipated, so he kept things gentle and watched her closely to ensure she was comfortable. Again he remembered how pale and stressed she had been when she had first arrived in Glentown. She had more colour now and she had put on some weight, which certainly suited her, he decided, casting an appreciative glance over her delicious curves. He wondered again if s
he had been unwell. More than once he noticed her left hand stray to her side and he paused as they passed Loch Neldricken to give her another chance to rest before they headed on along the slope of Ewe Rig, enjoying the solitude, and then began the harder climb towards Redstone Rig.
Finding it hard to catch her breath on the steepest parts, Kate was grateful that Conor kept the pace gentle, although she envied the effortless way he moved up the trail ahead of her. She hadn’t realised how much the events of recent months had taken out of her but now she felt her legs would seize any moment. She had healed physically but had not done much exercise in the last weeks and now she was feeling it. Maybe this had been a touch ambitious. But saying so would require an explanation and that she couldn’t give, so she kept going. Unconsciously her hand clasped her left side below her ribs where an ache twinged.
‘Something wrong, Kate?’
Alarmed that Conor had seen her action, she removed her hand. ‘Nothing,’ she lied, but she could tell he didn’t believe her and was both curious and concerned. ‘Just a stitch,’ she fabricated, hoping to divert his attention and head off any further questions.
‘A bit out of practice?’ he teased, going along with her subterfuge as he shrugged off his rucksack and waited for her to join him. ‘We’ll have to make sure you get more physical activity while you’re here.’
She could feel a flush colour her already heated cheeks at the wicked glint in his eyes. She could just imagine the kind of physical activity he had in mind and no way was that going to happen! ‘I’m fine.’ At least she had diverted him from anything else that might be wrong.
‘Well, what do you think?’
‘About what?’ She propped herself against the nearest available outcrop for support.
‘Him,’ Conor elaborated, pointing towards a rock formation which, in profile, created the perfect likeness of a wizened, aged face. ‘The Grey Man.’
Momentarily blind to the breathtaking scenery all around her, Kate stared. ‘You brought me all the way up here to see a rock?’
‘It’s not just a rock.’ He laughed, disgustingly unflustered. ‘Isn’t it fabulous?’
It was impressive, she had to concede, her equilibrium returning after a short rest. Her father would love it, too. Conor was in his element here. He not only knew so much about the landscape and history but she realised how much of his rare free time he spent walking in the hills and forests or along the coastal paths, either alone or with his friends and fellow GPs Kyle and Nic. Did that mean his other ladies came here, too? Not that she was one of them, she added with a frown. But if he worked so hard, walked so much and played other sports, how did he have time for all his liaisons? He’d been to visit Lizzie in hospital, done other favours for people, but she couldn’t remember hearing of Conor actually dating anyone in the whole time she had been there. So was she wrong about him? If she was, it made him more dangerous and her more vulnerable.
Conor found a sheltered spot and they settled down to their picnic lunch, enjoying the sunshine and the incredible views. Ribbons of gossamer cloud streamed around the highest peaks, some of which still had a coating of snow, looking as if some giant celestial hand had dusted them with icing sugar. They chatted about the scenery, the remote tranquillity inspiring awe and reverence, and then talk turned to work and Conor mentioned Fred.
‘He’s been fabulous to work with.’ Conor leaned back, resting on his elbows. ‘But he has been slowing down these last months and I worry about him. I know the day will come, probably quite soon, when he’ll decide to go part time or give up completely. Not that I begrudge him his retirement but I’ll miss him.’
‘I was very sorry to hear about his wife.’
‘Yeah. He’s never picked up from losing Annette,’ Conor confided, his voice wistful and sad. ‘It was a bad time.’
‘What will you do when Fred retires? Practice-wise, I mean.’
He glanced at her, his eyes hooded. ‘I’m hoping my perfect partner will never want to leave.’
Kate looked away, unnerved by the edge to his voice, unwilling to acknowledge how much this place and these people had come to mean to her in just six weeks, how hard it was going to be for her to walk away when her contract ended. Her father had hinted she could stay on if she wanted to. Maybe she could have, if things had been different…But they weren’t, so there was no point dwelling in fantasy land.
‘I’m sure you’ll find someone suitable when the time comes.’
She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, gazing unseeing at the hills, not wanting to think about who would come after her to fill her shoes on a permanent basis and find their niche in this wonderful community…and be Conor’s partner. Unsettled by her thoughts, far too conscious of him close beside her, she began packing away the things then scrabbled to her feet.
Taking a different route, they began the walk back down in silence, a growing tension fizzing between them. When she skidded on some loose shale, Conor was there to catch her, his arm strong and secure around her waist as he held her far too close for several breath-sapping moments before she managed to extract herself and put some distance between them.
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled, unable to look at him.
‘No problem.’
His own voice was rough, letting her know he was affected and aware. This was ridiculous. She swallowed, sucking in a few deep breaths, trying to regain some control as they continued the descent, surprised when Conor took her hand to help her over the rocky path down the Buchan Burn. He failed to release her, his fingers linking with hers as they paused to look at the waterfall. Her traitorous body reacted to his touch, her pulse racing, her flesh tingling, her hormones rampaging out of control.
She was relieved when they reached the car park. The walk had been wonderful, the views amazing, and she wouldn’t have missed seeing any of this for the world. The problem was her awareness of Conor, her dwindling will-power to keep him at bay. Thankful for some respite, she leaned against the car and waited while he stowed his pack in the boot, expecting him to continue round to the driver’s side to unlock the doors. So when he walked towards her, moving in close, her heart began beating a wild tattoo in her chest.
He was way too close. Kate swallowed, nerves jangling inside her. He put his hands on the car roof either side of her head, holding her captive. She couldn’t breathe. Mesmerising green eyes were dark and intent. Whatever fragments of self-control she had left were shot to pieces. If he touched her now she was going to explode. Scared how vulnerable she was to him, her hands rose to his chest in a futile effort to maintain some distance between them.
‘Conor—’
‘I enjoyed myself today.’
‘Um, yes, it was good. Walking,’ she managed, her voice far too husky and unsteady.
His sultry gaze dropped to her mouth as she moistened dry lips. ‘I meant being with you.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Good,’ he interrupted, brushing the pad of his thumb across her mouth to silence her. ‘Don’t think, Kate. Just feel.’
The first touch of his mouth on hers threatened to make her breathless all over again. His initial kiss was hesitant, as if assessing her reaction, his lips warm and coaxing as he encouraged a response. Not that he needed to. Much to her despair, her body was betraying her brain. No matter how much she denied this, her mouth was taking on a will of its own as her lips parted in shameless invitation, seeking more, demanding more.
She heard Conor’s soft moan as he gave her what she craved. One arm slid round her waist and drew her closer against him, while his other hand sank into her hair, cupping the back of her neck as he changed the angle, deepening the kiss, moving from teasing gentleness to heated demand. It wasn’t fair. He was far, far too good at this.
She whimpered, her whole body on fire as Conor sucked erotically on her lower lip before his tongue slid into her mouth, placing teasing strokes on hers, encouraging it to join in a sensual dance. The passion erupted betw
een them, flaring out of control. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more, wanted everything, needed to climb right inside his skin.
Forgetting where they were, her hands burrowed under his jacket, her fingers pulling restlessly at the hem of his jumper and the shirt beneath, impatient to feel the touch of his skin, finding his back warm and supple, the muscles flexing. His earthy scent made her light-headed, his taste made her feel drunk. It had been a while since she had been with a man, been held and kissed. Not that she’d ever been kissed like this before. It was all heat and fire and sensual seduction. Slow, deep, thorough, unbelievably sexual as he made love to her with his mouth. And she wanted more. Much more.
Conor shifted even closer, the length of his athletic body pressing along hers, leaving her in no doubt about the extent of his arousal. But he still wasn’t close enough. She moved more firmly against him, desperate to ease the terrible burning ache that raged inside her, moaning in relief as he slid one leg between hers. Too needy to care what she was doing, she wantonly rubbed herself on his thigh, matching the suggestive rhythm of his movements. The hand at her waist slid down to cup her rear, pulling her tighter. He tilted his chest to one side and she gasped into his mouth as his other hand burrowed under her jacket to shape the fullness of her breast, her hardened nipple urgently seeking his palm, a fiery ache of sensation short-circuiting to her womb.
She wanted to tell him there were too many clothes between them but no way on earth could she break this earth-shatteringly sensual kiss. Their mouths fitted like two halves of a whole, lips clinging, caressing, taking and giving everything, tongues tasting, teasing, joining in an impassioned exploration. But the urge to satisfy the burning need was becoming too much to bear. Her fingers moved more insistently on his back as she lost herself in the magic of getting physical with Conor Anderson, sharing what was the most intensely erotic and arousing experience of her life. Just when she was unable to help herself squirming more blatantly against him, her hands working round to the fastening of his jeans, Conor was pulling away.
A Doctor Worth Waiting For Page 11
