The emergency doctor claims his wife

by Margaret McDonagh

  Just how much did she know about Nathan apart from his skills as a doctor, his quiet kindness, protectiveness and his supreme ability as a lover? What did she know of his past, his hopes, his fears, his dreams? Nothing—just as he had said. Just as her mother had suggested. It shocked her that she knew nothing about his background, nor why he had come to study medicine at twenty-two, and not at a younger age like the rest of their group. She had assumed he’d had a change of mind about the career he wanted. Maybe she had assumed a lot of things. He had never talked of his home…She didn’t even know if he had family somewhere. How could she have been so self-absorbed? She felt the terrible weight of guilt. She had known Nathan was reserved, a loner, and she acknowledged with shame that she had revelled in being the only one he turned to, confided in, allowed close to him. If all her mother had said was true, she had let him down terribly.

  She had no one to blame but herself for the misery of the last five years. Even the achievements in her career seemed meaningless against the bleakness of her personal life. She had been so driven, so consumed by the loss of her father, shaken by the knowledge that nothing was safe and that life could change in a moment. She’d had her mother and Nathan, and she’d wanted to tie them both to her in a desperate need for security, scared to lose anyone else essential to her life, her heart, her soul.

  Welcomed into her home, treated as part of their family, Nathan had been fond of her parents. Lost in her own torment, she’d never once thought that he might have been affected by her father’s death, too. Nathan had been by her side throughout every moment of her heartache. He’d held her as she cried, listened to her talk for hours into the night about the man who had been her hero, her friend. Nathan, always understanding, always strong, always giving. What had she given him in return? Her throat tightened. Nothing. She had just taken. All too clearly she could see her mistakes, her selfishness. They were laid out before her, bare, exposed. She didn’t like what she saw of herself, but she was no longer able to hide, to pretend that the fault was anyone’s but her own.

  How could she have been so juvenile, so thoughtless? And why had Nathan put up with her as long as he had? The truth of the answer made her sob aloud. Because, despite everything, he had loved her. And she had thrown it all back in his face when he wouldn’t fit in with her sudden whim to have a baby. She had been so vulnerable after losing her father that she had subconsciously tried to tie Nathan to her, terrified he would leave her, too. And in pushing him, in reacting so irrationally to his answer, she had lost the very things she had been so desperate to keep. Nathan and his love.

  She feared she didn’t deserve either.

  She had taken his reluctance to get married and have a baby at the moment she demanded as an out-and-out rejection of her—a sign he didn’t care. Five years too late, she could see how wrong she had been…about everything. He had not been denying her or their love. He had simply—and quite rightly—said that it was too soon for them to have a child.

  There was no escaping from the truth. She had behaved abominably. Her mother had tried to tell her but she hadn’t listened. Neither had she given Nathan a chance to express his views. Not even these last ten days, when he had tried again and she had shoved him aside. Why had he waited until now to come after her? Her mother’s suggestion that he was at a turning point in his life was scary. Did that mean he was ready to move on without her? She had wasted five years, causing herself and Nathan unimaginable pain. How could he ever forgive her? He had come to Strathlochan, but did that mean he still wanted her? Or did he just need closure before walking away—for good this time?

  Restless, Nathan stood at the window in the living room of the ground floor flat he had rented for his time in Strathlochan and stared out into the darkness of the night. The rain had stopped an hour or more ago, but the wind was still strong, whistling eerily around the old detached granite building, sounding mournful, matching his mood.

  Sighing, he closed the curtains and returned to his chair, unable to focus on the medical study he was doing in preparation for gaining his specialist registrar status. He had been distracted ever since he had seen Annie again, but the last days had plagued him, and he was anxious that he had ruined everything. He shouldn’t have confronted Annie in the staffroom like that—especially in front of Will. But when she had made her comment about the way Holly’s sister had trapped Gus Buchanan he hadn’t been able to help himself.

  At some point the words had needed to be said. Annie had to face the reality of the past—a reality he was realising she had genuinely managed to distort to protect herself. And his challenge had caused a reaction. He had seen it in the way her face had paled and her blue eyes had grown large and shadowed. Giving her space to think and himself a chance to cool off had seemed the best idea. Now he was scared he had acted rashly, and worried that his impatience and burst of hurt anger might have driven even more of a wedge between them.

  He had made some bad mistakes in the past, and maybe he hadn’t learned the lessons as well as he should have. What if it was too late to have a second chance with Annie? She was the only woman he had ever loved. Ever would love. A frown knotted his brow as his thoughts turned inexorably to her and Will. He had yet to resolve what bothered him about their relationship. They were clearly very close, their affection was genuine, and yet he hadn’t detected any hint of passion. That surprised him. He himself knew the full extent of the fire that smouldered within Annie. He’d experienced the joy of inflaming it, embracing the intensity of heat they had always generated, which had threatened to consume and incinerate them.

  Will’s unconcern at having him around also troubled him. The other man’s friendly understanding and curious comments were puzzling. Nathan had made it clear he still loved Annie and wanted her back, but rather than feel challenged it was almost as if Will was on his side. How could that be? Unless Will was so secure in Annie’s feelings that he knew he didn’t need to worry?

  The only way to find answers to his growing list of questions was to pin Annie down once and for all—no easy matter when she evaded him at every turn. Renewed determination fired within him. He would see her tomorrow at work, and somehow he would have to convince her that they could no longer put off the talk they needed to clear the air between them. Where that talk would lead, and if they would come out the other end with any hope of salvaging the special relationship they had once shared, he had no idea. He only knew that the thought of losing Annie for good terrified him.

  Running one hand across his unshaven jaw, he returned his attention to his study. Never before had he experienced so much trouble concentrating on his work. Never had his single-minded determination been so tested. Even when Annie had first left him he had thrown himself into work as a way of coping with the desolation. And he’d had the responsibilities of home weighing on him, shackling him. Now he was free—free and at a crossroads. What happened with Annie would influence the course of the rest of his life. And define whether he could know happiness again or would always remain alone.

  An hour later the sound of the doorbell disturbed the concentration he had fought so hard to achieve. Who on earth could that be? He’d not had much contact with the people in the two flats on the floors above him, and he hadn’t established social networks with his colleagues at the hospital. Frustrated at the interruption, he left his books open on the table and walked barefoot to the door, his breath catching in his throat as he swung it open and discovered the identity of the visitor who waited on the step.

  ‘Annie…’

  Surprised, it took him a moment to let it sink in that she was real, and not some figment of his imagination. Under the glow of the porch light her face was pale, the expression in her eyes wary, and the slight tremble of her lips was evidence of her uncharacteristic nervousness. Then, as a gust of wind whipped strands of ebony hair around her face, he realised she was standing in the cold, shivering, and hadn’t even put on a coat.

  ‘Come inside before you freeze
.’

  He took her arm and drew her with him into the warmth of the flat. No way was he going to let her escape now she had sought him out and he had a chance to see her alone.

  Hesitantly she stepped across the threshold and allowed him to lead her to the living room. ‘I’ve been to see Mum—’ She broke off and blinked, looking unsure, almost disorientated. ‘I had no idea you’d kept in touch with each other all this time.’

  A mix of incomprehension, accusation, envy and hurt laced her voice. Nathan paused, unsure what to say. It had never been his intention to shut her out or deceive her, more the acknowledgement that she had not wanted to know about or to speak of him. He had cared about both her parents, had revelled in their acceptance of him, the way they had drawn him into their family and made him feel one of them. And he’d been affected by her father’s death, masking his own feelings as he had focused on caring for Annie through her grief, as well as being there for Annie’s mother, Eve.

  When Annie had left him her mother had insisted on remaining in regular contact with him. He had been shocked, but relieved. Eve had shown no recrimination, only quiet understanding, and their friendship had continued, with Annie an unspoken shadow between them. At the time he had felt most alone and had needed wise counsel, Eve had been there. Now she knew bits about his life that no one else did, not even Annie.

  Clearly the last few days had been a shock for Annie. It showed in the strain on her face and the confusion in her eyes. Not only was she being forced to face up to the events of five years ago, but she had learned of her mother’s friendship with him. Concerned for Annie’s well-being, and wondering what Eve might have revealed to her daughter, Nathan took a step closer, stilling when she visibly tensed, her hands knotting in agitation.

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’ he asked, reining in his impatience to discover the reason for her visit in order to set her more at ease.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Hot chocolate?’ He tempted her with what had always been her favourite treat—second favourite after the doughnuts, he amended with a reminiscent ache.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Myriad questions and emotions rampaged through him as he walked towards the kitchen, hearing her soft footsteps as she followed. He was reaching into a cupboard for a saucepan when he heard the hitch in her breathing and the strangled sob she tried unsuccessfully to mask. Forgetting the pan, he turned to face her, all thought of their separation and the awkwardness between them gone as he saw the tears shimmering on her lashes. His only need was to comfort, to protect, to care.

  ‘Sweetheart, what is it?’ His voice was husky with his own emotion. He’d never been able to bear it when she cried. Annie was always full of life and laughter, so to see her like this was rare and disturbing. The only time she had been so distraught before was when her father had died. As he wrapped his arms around her she burrowed against him, unresisting as he drew her close, her own arms lifting to slide around his waist. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand what I was doing. Or why.’

  The words were fractured, broken, ripped from within her. Her pain tore at him. The wetness of her tears soaked through his shirt to bathe his skin, and he cradled her closer, keeping her safe, breathing in the familiar scent that mixed with the very essence of her. Whilst he hated her distress she felt so good, so right back in his arms. He allowed the fingers of one hand to slide under the fall of her hair to begin a soothing caress over the nape of her neck, marvelling anew at the softness of her skin. At last he was touching her again, holding her after five years. Five long years in which he hadn’t been living, only existing without her.

  ‘Shh,’ he whispered, bending his head to nuzzle against her, feeling the tremors racking her body with each sob, her ragged breath as she clung to him. ‘Stop, Annie, please. You’re going to make yourself ill—and you’re tearing me apart.’

  Drawing back a fraction, he cupped her face in his hands, bending to remove the evidence of her tears with his lips and tongue, tasting the slightly salty moisture on the downy soft skin of her cheeks. Damp, spiky lashes parted and bruised blue eyes looked into his brown ones. Mere millimetres separated them.

  ‘Nathan…’

  He felt rather than heard his name as a whisper of her breath caressed his face. His chest felt tight. Her hands loosened their grip on his shirt, her fingers a hesitant touch over his back sending waves of sensation coursing through him. They were on the cusp of something momentous. They both knew it. Nathan fought to remember Will, to remind himself of how Annie had hurt him, to recall everything that remained unsettled between them. The timing was all wrong. He didn’t yet know why she had come to him this evening.

  But right at this moment none of that seemed to matter a damn. He couldn’t think straight with Annie so close, their breaths mingling, her warmth and her scent surrounding him. He could no more stop touching her or prevent himself from kissing her than he could stop his heart beating fast and uneven beneath his ribs.

  Temptation overrode his common sense.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘PLEASE—’

  Nathan wasn’t sure who voiced the plea, or which of them moved first to close the last of the gap between their lips…Annie or himself. Maybe it was both of them, responding instinctively to the mutual pull. He only knew that in the next moment their mouths met—open, hot and ravenously hungry. At once the flames ignited and raged between them. He had to touch her, had to take more. The needy sounds she made in her throat, familiar but too long unheard, drove him crazy, and he deepened the contact, exploring every remembered atom of her honey-sweet mouth. He welcomed her urgent participation, allowing her tongue to twine with his, duelling and teasing before he drew her back into him, stroking her, sucking on her, swallowing her moan of pleasure.

  Annie sagged against him, her fingers spearing into the thickness of his hair, holding him to her. As if he was going anywhere. His own hands roved down her back to cup her rear, flexing and shaping her delicious curves as he drew her even closer, making them both aware of how hard he was for her. Teeth nipping at his lower lip, she rubbed wantonly against him, her fingers abandoning his hair so her hands could burrow between their bodies and set to work on the buttons of his shirt.

  For the briefest moment a flicker of sanity tried to prevail, reminding him of Will, of all the obstacles yet to be overcome—including the fact that he didn’t know Annie’s motives for being here with him now. But before he could regain a fragment of control Annie had thrown herself back into the eroticism of their kiss, sliding open the material of his shirt to expose his chest, her fingers brushing against his skin. Her touch scalded him, searing his flesh, sending flares of sensation to every nerve-ending, heightening his arousal to breaking point. Any hope of discernment was lost.

  Neither of them could stop the whirlwind that had overtaken them and was now carrying them along in its wake. Hands dragged at clothes, uncaring where they fell. His loosened shirt went first. Then Annie’s skirt. Her hands were fumbling with his belt and the fastening of his jeans. Nathan was scarcely aware of moving, but Annie was in his arms, her legs locked around his hips, and he was all but weaving down the corridor to the bedroom, bumping against a wall and then into the doorway in his haste, cushioning her from any harm. He was focused solely on Annie…the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her.

  They fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs, and he reluctantly released her mouth long enough to drag her jumper over her head. Annie’s boots followed, and then the last of their clothes were wrenched away. Fabric ripped, then, finally, they were flesh on flesh, their bodies gliding together, exploring, relearning, eager and impatient.

  Aroused beyond bearing, Nathan couldn’t believe Annie was here, back in his bed, and that he was touching her, kissing her, loving her.

  ‘It’s been so long, so long. I need you so badly.’

  He mouthed his refrain against her warm, satiny ski
n, paying homage to the rounded firmness of her breasts, drawing each erect dark rose nipple into his mouth in turn, loving the way she cried out and arched her body to seek more of his touch. Needing to feel and taste all of her at once after years of deprivation, he feasted on her, welcoming the way her hands and mouth roved over him with equal hunger.

  ‘Hurry.’ She nipped at his earlobe, soothing it with her tongue. ‘We don’t have much time.’

  Nathan silenced Annie’s words with another deep, thorough kiss. They were words he didn’t want to hear or think about or examine for meaning. A distant part of him was aware that they should slow down, that they had to talk, to resolve their issues. But Annie was back with him, they had found each other again and, despite what she had just said, they had all the time in the world to reconcile the past and plan for the future. Once they had taken the edge off this desperate hunger.

  There was no extinguishing the wild conflagration that had taken on a life of its own, driving every reasoned thought from his mind. Five years of need and want refused to be denied for another second. He had enough presence of mind to fumble for a condom—purchased more in hope than expectation when he had come to Strathlochan to find Annie—then they were coming together, frantic, untamed, rough, urgent in their desire, their joining.

  It was like regaining home. He belonged with Annie, in Annie. She felt incredible…so hot, so tight, so very right. Made just for him. Only she made him whole. Only she brought his body alive. For a moment he paused to savour the magnitude of his feelings, then she was dragging at him, her nails leaving marks on his back, demanding more. Nathan moved, beyond thought, and Annie matched his rhythm, taking and giving, wrapping her legs higher around him until they were so deeply and tightly joined they might never be parted. As one they raced towards the precipice, hard and fast and blissfully perfect, and unimaginable pleasure built and built until he thought he would explode.