Hot-Shot Doc, Christmas Bride / Christmas At Rivercut Manor

by Joanna Neil / Gill Sanderson

  He pulled her close to him. Kissing him was even more wonderful now. Not only their lips but their entire bodies were touching. She could feel the warmth, the softness of his skin pressed against hers. Her breasts, the peaks stiff and unbearably sensitive, were crushed against the muscles of his chest. Her smooth legs rubbed against the faint roughness of his. And pressed hard against her thigh was the indisputable sign of his need for her.

  Every kiss, every touch told her that she wanted him, needed him with an urgency she had never experienced before. She had met this man only a few days before but now it seemed she had known him for ever. It was as if their coming together had been ordained since that first encounter.

  She could tell he shared her frantic need. This would not, could not last long. One more searing kiss and she rolled onto her back, pulling him until he was poised above her. ‘Grace…Grace…I…’

  ‘Don’t talk. There’s no need. Make me complete, Mike.’ Her arms encircled his neck, she urged him down onto her. Into her. She cried out at the same time as he gasped.

  ‘Oh, Mike.’

  ‘Oh, Grace.’

  It was good, more than good. She was taking him, but giving to him. He was taking her, and giving to her. They were in perfect unison.

  No use now trying to wait, to tease, to pretend that they had all the time in the world. Together they moved towards a climax, an ending that had them both gripping each other and calling out in ecstasy.

  He collapsed on her, holding her tight, and kissed her again and again. ‘Oh, Grace.’

  ‘Shh. That was lovely. Shh.’

  They lay side by side, curled into one another, their arms across each other’s bodies, drifting into sleep. But always there was that consciousness of his arms round her, his body next to hers. She was content. She was complete. She was happy.

  It was dark, Mike was warm and in his half waking, half sleeping state he was aware of burgeoning love and great fulfilment. Something had been missing for such a long time—a part of him ripped away and only an aching gap left in its place. But here, now, he was whole again. There was regular breathing in the darkness, drifting hair tickling his cheek. He reached out and his hand slipped over warm, smooth skin. ‘Oh, Sarah,’ he murmured.

  Sarah. Grace lay curled up on her side, tucked into Mike’s warm body, his arm loosely around her. Her eyes were shut, her limbs relaxed. Only the tear trickling down her cheek as her lover spoke his dead wife’s name showed that she was awake.

  Chapter Nine

  MIKE came awake properly. For a split second he was surprised beyond belief to find a woman in his arms. But memory flooded back—and what a memory! He kissed Grace’s neck softly. ‘Grace, I have to leave. I can’t not be at home when Bethany wakes up in the morning.’

  She stirred, twisted to face him, pushing her hair out of the way. Lord, she was gorgeous. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, bringing a resurgence of desire. ‘Are you going?’ she said sleepily.

  ‘I must.’ He kissed her eyelids, pausing at the taste of salt. ‘Have you been crying?’

  ‘Yes…No…That was lovely, Mike.’

  ‘It was. Don’t get up, it’s too cold. I’ll see you tomorrow—today—whenever it is. Come and have a picnic lunch with us again.’

  She padded downstairs anyway, wrapped in her dressing gown, to bolt the door after him. That last view of her, tousled and beautiful, stayed with him as he strode up the high street through cold, crunching snow under a waning moon. Something to keep him warm.

  But as he opened the door to the flat he heard Bethany’s rising wail. ‘Daddy! I want my daddy!’

  He tore off his coat as he raced to her room. ‘I’m here, sweetheart. What’s the matter?’ He scooped his daughter up, feeling his heart thud as he cradled her to his chest. She was limp. He peered anxiously at her face in the light from the hallway. Was she flushed? Sweating? How long had she been crying?

  She gave a small murmur and turned to snuggle into his sweater. False alarm. She was still asleep. Thank God. He held her a moment longer—then very gently slid her back into bed, testing her forehead to be on the safe side, lifting her wrist to check her pulse.

  ‘Everything all right?’ asked his father from the doorway.

  For a moment Mike felt a quite shattering anger. Bethany had cried out and James hadn’t been instantly with her. He’d trusted him to look after her. But then he had a vision of himself in Grace’s arms, oblivious to the rest of the world. He was the one to blame, not his father.

  ‘Talking in her sleep,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Nothing to worry about.’ He followed James out of the room and pulled the door to.

  ‘Good evening?’ said his father.

  ‘The best.’ But he felt a small core of misery settle in his chest. He couldn’t do it again. Bethany had needed him tonight and he hadn’t been there. He wouldn’t risk that happening any more.

  Sarah. No matter how many times Grace replayed the events of the evening, she couldn’t get that one word out of her head. He had said it in that moment between sleeping and waking, said it when the rigid guard on his memories was lulled. She had to face it. Whatever she had been beginning to believe, whatever hopes she had allowed to come into existence, the fact was that Mike still mourned his wife. He was still in love with Sarah.

  Which left her where? Friends with him? Just friends after what they had shared? The idea was laughable.

  Grace was clear-sighted enough to recognise that she had been in need of their lovemaking tonight just as much as Mike. He hadn’t had any intention of taking her for granted or making a fool of her. Maybe he had no idea himself how much of his heart was still Sarah’s.

  So…she would be there to talk to, there to listen to him. And, God help her, she would be there to satisfy that other need if loneliness overtook them again. But it was a hell of a way to live.

  As it happened, she couldn’t make it to the surgery for lunch the next day. One of her outlying patients needed stitches removed. Another had an appointment with a home care visitor and Grace had been asked if she could be present. She sent Mike a friendly text to explain. As she drove through the snowy hills, she reflected that it was probably just as well. The less she saw him physically, the easier it would be to keep a mental distance. Kinder for both of them. Less heart-breaking.

  She was surprised by one thing: the estate agent phoned to tell her he’d had another offer for the manor above the original asking price.

  ‘It’s too late,’ she said. ‘I’m selling the house to Dr Curtis.’

  The agent pointed out that the contract had yet to be signed. Grace replied that the formal offer had been accepted and that she didn’t go back on her word. Odd, she thought, but put it out of her mind.

  It didn’t take too much effort to be busy the following day as well, but she was conscious that she had promised to take Bethany to her riding lesson. Subtle questioning of the surgery receptionist elicited the information that young Dr Curtis would be out all afternoon. Grace asked her to relay the message that she would pick up Bethany’s riding clothes from his room at two-thirty.

  There were vans in the driveway of the manor as she went past. She drove resolutely on, ignoring a sharp stab of pain. Mike was buying the manor from her. He would make it beautiful again, a proper home for himself and Bethany. But seeing workmen there, she finally realised that what once had been a much-loved haven was lost to her for ever. She let herself into the surgery as near desolation as she had been in a long time.

  She paused on the threshold of Mike’s room. He had put his stamp on it already. He’d shifted the computer onto his desk and moved the desk nearer to the window. There was the same tang of citrus in the room that she’d smelled on his skin on Tuesday night.

  She mustn’t think about that. Not go there. Where were Bethany’s clothes? Ah, in a bag on the desk. She reached for them quickly—and was arrested by the sight of a framed photo.

  It was large, ten inches by eight, and it showed a l
aughing family. There was Mike, his head thrown back and a wide smile splitting his face. He looked younger, carefree, happy. And there was Bethany balanced on her father’s hip, dark curls dancing, giggling as if she would never stop. And there…there was Sarah. Also laughing, her head tipped towards Mike so that they framed their daughter.

  Grace sat down numbly, unable to take her eyes off the photo. No wonder Mike was still in love with Sarah. She was an adult version of Bethany. Every time Mike looked at his daughter he must see his wife’s face. How could any woman compete with that?

  There was a note on the desk. ‘Grace—busy this afternoon. Can you bring Bethany back, please? Thanks. Mike X’

  X. A kiss. Grace remembered his real kisses, pressed into her skin, taking her to such places of delight. She looked at the photo again. Even if they made a go of this, even if she let herself trust again, she would always be second best.

  Lorna Threlkeld was just getting into her car as Grace and Bethany arrived at Rivercut Stables. She stopped, waiting for them, her face set in sour lines. ‘Bethany Curtis, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Grace. ‘She enjoyed last week’s lesson.’

  ‘The little girl whose father is buying the manor. How very convenient, Grace.’

  Grace’s chin came up. ‘It’s convenient for Bethany because she won’t have so far to walk to school.’

  ‘And convenient for you too,’ said Lorna with a malevolent look.

  Grace knew perfectly well what the other woman was insinuating, but she kept her voice pleasant. ‘It’s certainly nice to have found a buyer at the right price,’ she said, holding Bethany’s hand somewhat tighter. ‘We mustn’t miss Bethany’s lesson. Goodbye.’

  A nasty little interlude, but as they walked on, a sudden amusing thought struck Grace. Could it have been Lorna’s father who had put in that cut-price offer for the manor some time ago? Yes, she could just see him wanting to add it to his other properties in the area and turning it into holiday apartments or a country house hotel. He’d probably been holding back until she was desperate to sell at any price. But Lorna must have driven through the village and noticed the comings and goings so he had hurriedly contacted the estate agent and raised his bid. Ha! Too late, Mr Threlkeld. That will teach you to be greedy.

  Her phone bleeped part way through the lesson. At the next pause, Grace looked at the text. ‘It’s from Daddy,’ she said to Bethany. ‘He wants us to call at the manor on the way back. He says he’s found something exciting.’

  ‘Treasure!’ said Bethany straight away.

  ‘I wish,’ replied Grace. Sadly, knowing Mike, it was probably the old driveway gates so he could keep Bethany safe and sound and fenced off from the world.

  They parked next to Mike’s Range Rover. There were another couple of cars there too. Bethany danced in through the front door. It was a good thing it was open, thought Grace, it would have felt really weird using the knocker to her own home.

  And there was Mike in conversation with a builder from the village, glancing towards the door and breaking into a smile. Grace stopped with an almost physical blow. So much for increasing mental distance. Just seeing him brought it all back. How could she have forgotten how wonderful he looked?

  ‘Did you have a good lesson, sweetheart?’ he said, lifting Bethany in his arms. He kissed her, but his eyes were on Grace. ‘Hi, Grace. How have you been?’

  She had to keep up the pretence. Everything between them must appear unchanged. ‘Oh, busy as usual. I might need your advice on one of today’s calls.’

  He was instantly alert. ‘Serious?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. But a visit sooner rather than later would be good.’

  Bethany was wriggling. ‘Where’s the treasure, Daddy?’

  He laughed. ‘It’s not treasure, darling. It’s a thing. What do you know about this, Grace?’

  Such a strange exchange. The last time they had seen each other had been in her bedroom. They had just…It had been one of the most marvellous experiences of her life. And now they were casually chatting about patients and houses. Grace knew it was how she’d wanted it, but even so it took some getting used to.

  Mike put Bethany down and led the way over to the fireplace. Grace saw with a jolt that it had been unblocked. She hoped he could afford the fuel bills that would be needed to combat the draughts.

  Then she looked at the hall properly and was amazed. Mike had had the oak panelling cleaned. What a strange place to start! Surely there were more pressing aspects to be sorted out? But he was looking at her expectantly, his hand on an area of panel to the left of the fireplace.

  ‘Ta-da!’ he said, and pressed on the panelling. A black oblong appeared behind it.

  ‘The secret passage!’ exclaimed Grace, utterly delighted. Memories crowded back. She rushed to put them into words. ‘To be exact, the secret entrance. When I was a little girl I thought it very Enid Blyton. Secrets in a house! There was a doorway here that led into a kind of long alcove at one end of the kitchen. It meant servants in the old days could serve drinks and food in the hall without having to walk all the way around through the corridors. But when the door was shut it just looked like the rest of the panelling. We didn’t have servants so my father had the doorway bricked up and a big fridge-freezer installed in the alcove instead.’

  ‘That explains it. We found it when we were cleaning the panelling. I couldn’t resist trying to discover where it went so we knocked the bricks out and then pushed the fridge-freezer out of the way at the other end.’ He grinned. ‘Must say, I felt a bit Enid Blyton myself. Do you want to walk through? Revisit your childhood?’

  ‘I do,’ said Bethany, tugging his hand. ‘Open the secret door, Daddy.’

  ‘Careful of the brick rubble,’ he said. ‘Grace?’

  There was an infectious excitement in his face. Grace felt herself melt. ‘I’d love to.’

  He eased the panelling door open. Bethany was instantly through it. Grace followed Mike more slowly. The arched passage was shorter than she remembered, the air hazy with brick dust and the tiled floor gritty underfoot. But it was magic. Mike was right—it was childhood revisited.

  In front of them Bethany was already squealing with delight at having come out in a whole different room. Mike looked over his shoulder at Grace, his eyes brimming with amusement as he reached to clasp her hand. ‘Fun?’ he said.

  His hand was strong and vital and alive. His joy in this simple thing was overwhelming. For a moment she was too full of emotion to speak. This was the man he was supposed to be. She settled for nodding. ‘Fun.’

  And she knew, here and now, permanently and for ever, that she loved him.

  ‘Again,’ shouted Bethany, running from the kitchen past Grace back to the hall. Mike jogged after her.

  Grace remained in the kitchen, where they both joined her a few moments later.

  ‘I’ll have the alcove swept and cleaned and painted,’ said Mike, panting slightly as he caught his over-excited daughter. ‘And I’ll have the secret door oiled. The passage is going to be so useful to get to and from the kitchen. Oh—and I got hold of a firm that refurbishes old ranges. And then later on I’d like a conservatory built onto the end wall there. It’ll be a real living kitchen.’

  ‘It sounds—it sounds lovely, Mike. I think you’re going to be really happy here.’

  He caught his breath. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘So who’s this patient you were worried about?’

  Grace looked up in surprise. She’d been immersed in writing up the morning’s notes and hadn’t heard Mike come into her room. She was even more surprised when he put a mug of tea on the desk in front of her.

  ‘Peace offering in advance,’ he said. ‘I need to drag you down to the solicitor so we can sign a notice of intent of buy and I can pay you a deposit. Someone’s been leaning on the estate agent—this should settle their hash.’

  ‘Lorna Threlkeld’s father!’ exclaimed Grace wrathfully. ‘I’ll be glad to
sign anything you like. But there’s no need to pay me yet.’

  ‘You don’t have Christmas presents to buy? Besides, the money’s better in your account than theirs.’

  ‘If you insist, then.’ She got the feeling that refusal would be futile at any time, but especially today. There was something different about Mike. He was edgy, his voice held an underlying tension. Had the surveyor uncovered something wrong with the manor? She kept her voice cheerful. ‘And, yes, I always need to get more presents. I’m having a day’s shopping in Manchester with Natalie tomorrow. It’ll be nice to know there are funds to cover the credit-card bill.’

  His face lightened. ‘Natalie? The girl you trained with? The one whose daughter has such exceptional taste in underwear?’

  Grace’s heart skipped a beat at this reminder of the other night. ‘That’s her. But you’ll be glad to hear Chloe is having a daddy day, so we’ll be alone this time.’ What was she saying? She’d intimated there might be another bedroom occasion! ‘Always assuming we get out of the café, that is,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Put two friends together with unlimited coffee and we might just talk all day instead.’

  ‘But that’s good too. It’s always good to have a friend.’

  Oh, dear, was he reflecting that he’d left all his friends in London? She couldn’t seem to say anything right. Then she remembered why he’d come into her room in the first place. Talking about work was safe. ‘That patient I mentioned. Mrs King.’ She brought up the file on the computer, shifting so Mike could read it.

  He pulled across a chair and studied the screen. Suddenly he was a doctor, a professional, not just Mike. ‘Ivy King,’ he murmured. ‘Seventy-five years old with high blood pressure. What’s the problem?’

  ‘I called in to do her regular check-up. All seemed normal, the diastolic pressure was slightly up, but nothing to worry about. Then her daughter mentioned that Ivy had had several falls recently. It’s not like her.’