Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 4

by Various Authors

  ‘The rational part of me knows I should have overcome these feelings of inadequacy years ago, but they’re so deeply ingrained.’ She paused and bit her lip. ‘In my head I’ll always be Plain Polly from Penhally.’

  ‘No!’ Kate fought the fury that rose inside her at the damage Reg had done to his daughter with his verbal cruelty. ‘Listen to me, my love. You are a beautiful, smart, funny, caring and wonderful woman—that is who people see.’

  Polly shook her head and wiped a hand across her eyes, tears beading on her lashes. ‘I hate my body. Sitting on the beach last Sunday, I felt so dowdy and unfeminine next to Chloe and Lauren, like a skinny runt. Luca was there…with his children—’ She broke off and turned her head, allowing Kate to see the conflicting emotions warring in her eyes.

  ‘Polly…’

  ‘It hurts, Kate. I see girls the same age as my daughter would have been now and I can’t help but wonder what she would have been like.’ Kate felt her own heart constrict in response to Polly’s pain. ‘And as for Luca—’

  ‘Before you start running yourself down again, young lady,’ Kate interrupted, ‘the charge of attraction zinging back and forth between you and Luca was obvious. And he looked more than interested in you!’

  Polly shook her head, clearly agitated. ‘Oh, Kate, I’m so confused. Any woman with half a breath left in her body would find him attractive. And his children are so beautiful. I’ve tried to keep myself at a distance from them all, but those girls…they just slipped right through my defences. And so did their father. But I’m scared, Kate,’ she confided.

  ‘I know, my love.’

  Kate rested a comforting hand on the younger woman’s back, her heart going out to her. Polly had been through so much, both as a child and with the awful end to her marriage—about which there was much Kate was sure she didn’t know, believing Polly had kept the worst from her. She wanted Polly to move on, to be loved as she deserved, and from what Kate had seen and heard of Luca, she was hopeful he could be the right man to provide all Polly needed…includ-ing his daughters.

  ‘I’ve resigned myself to never having children. And I swore I’d never get involved with anyone again,’ Polly continued. ‘I can’t handle any more heartache, or finding myself back in a controlling situation again. I’ve made so many mistakes.’

  ‘You are not to blame for anything, Polly,’ Kate insisted firmly. ‘Nothing that happened when you were growing up, or in your marriage, was your fault. Nothing. Please, my love, don’t let Reg, or Charles, continue to influence your life.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Polly asked with a puzzled frown.

  ‘Coming back to Penhally was always going to be hard, and I’m so proud of you for doing it, not to mention overjoyed at having you close to me again,’ she told her, briefly resting a hand against Polly’s pale face. ‘There are ghosts you need to lay to rest so that you can draw a line under the past and let it go.’ Kate turned more to face Polly, needing to get through to her. ‘If you shut yourself away from life, and from love, then Reg and Charles are still pulling the strings and controlling you. Don’t let them win. Set yourself free. It’s obvious that you and Luca have a connection. Give yourself a chance. Give Luca a chance. He could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’

  Polly drew in a ragged breath. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s understandable that you’re scared. There’s no need to rush into anything. A step at a time. Take Luca and the girls to the riding stables, spend time together. See what happens. And there are the puppies. You’ve been to see them, yes?’ Kate asked, seeing the smile ease the worry from Polly’s face.

  ‘We went yesterday. They’re so cute!’ She laughed, wiping away a lingering tear. ‘Luca’s not telling the girls, he’s going to surprise them when they go to pick the puppy up to take him home.’

  Delighted to see Polly smiling again, Kate laughed. ‘I know what you mean. Jem has wanted a puppy for ages. He’s coped so well all summer while I was ill, and I feel he’s earned it and is responsible enough to take care of an animal.’ Kate shook her head, pushing down her own emotions as she thought not just how wonderful her son had been but of what she still had to tell Polly about the real identity of Jem’s father. ‘I went with Rob and the boys to see the puppies and now I’m as excited as Jem! He’s chosen his puppy, he even has a name…Bruno. And he and Matthew are busy getting everything ready from Melinda’s list.’

  Kate cherished this time with Polly but, aware the boys would soon be home from school, she knew she had to face things and confess her secret to Polly while they were still alone. A shiver went through her. How could she explain? She had betrayed James on the night he had died. With Nick. A ragged breath escaped her.

  ‘Kate, what’s wrong?’ Polly asked, her dark blue eyes clouding with concern.

  ‘I need to tell you something.’ Her voice wobbled and a smile was impossible. ‘Oh, God, this is so hard.’

  She saw Polly’s already pale face turn ashen. ‘The cancer…it hasn’t come back?’ she whispered, reaching for Kate’s hand and clinging to it.

  ‘No! Oh, no, my love, not that.’ For one terrible moment, Kate almost felt that might be easier to deal with. What a mess she had made. Tears squeezed between her lashes and she viewed Polly through a film of moisture. ‘I hope you won’t hate me when you find out what I’ve done.’

  Something was wrong.

  As the ambulance doors closed and Luca stepped back onto the pavement, his attention switched from his patient to Polly. She’d been quieter than normal since the beach picnic, but otherwise fine. They had both enjoyed the hour they had spent on Wednesday visiting Dragan and Melinda and seeing the puppies, and yesterday Polly had spent her afternoon off with Kate. Today, Friday, he had seen her briefly in the staffroom first thing and, while she’d seemed distracted and edgy, there had been nothing to unduly concern him. Given that his own mind had been grappling with the fact that this was the last day he would spend working so closely with Polly, it was possible that he’d not been as observant as usual.

  They had joined up during the afternoon to cover the list of home visits—the final ones they would share together as, from next week, he would be assigned a list of his own. Polly had definitely been acting strangely, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on anything specific. However, they had just seen their last patient and were about to head back to the surgery to sign off and go home when an emergency call had come in, diverting them to a woman with chest pain who needed immediate attention.

  By the time they’d arrived at the house in The Towans—a hillside road beneath Penhally Heights, the new housing estate that was nearing completion, and a part of the village he’d not been to before—Polly had turned deathly pale. She’d been restless and unfocused, and had looked like someone on the ragged edge of control. One wrong move and he’d feared she would fall. He intended being there to catch her.

  Sheer professionalism had allowed him to temporarily switch off his concerns about Polly while he had taken charge of the situation inside the rundown house and attended to the sixty-five-year-old lady who had, undoubtedly, had a heart attack. He had done all he could to keep her stable and comfortable and, although he had wanted nothing more than to find out what was wrong with Polly, he hadn’t been able to abandon his patient or risk her taking a turn for the worse before the paramedics arrived.

  Now, as the ambulance carrying Mrs Gunn to St Piran pulled away from the kerb, her distressed daughter and sonin-law following to the hospital by car, Luca was finally free to focus on Polly. She was already occupying the passenger seat, he discovered as he stowed his bag in the back, every atom of her being crying out her tension and inner turmoil.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Sliding behind the steering-wheel, he closed the door, cursing himself for the stupid question. She was anything but OK.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Her smile was over-bright, while her eyes, which had been strangely blank when they had been in the house
a short while ago, now carried a kind of wildness that made her look like a cornered animal. One knee was jinking up and down as her foot tapped repeatedly on the floor, and her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. As he drove back down The Towans, which joined Mevagissey Road not far from the church, he glanced at Polly again, finding her staring straight ahead.

  ‘Would you mind dropping me off in Bridge Street?’ she asked, her voice brittle.

  Frowning, Luca nodded. ‘Sure.’

  A few moments later he was pulling into a parking space outside Polly’s rented flat. Before he had brought the car to a halt, she was fumbling with the seat belt then the doorhandle, her hands shaking.

  ‘Polly—’

  ‘Sorry to rush. Something I need to do. Thanks, Luca. See you tomorrow. At the clinic.’

  Short, punchy sentences, her voice raw, her breathing too rapid and uncontrolled. Then she was out of the car, pulling her bag awkwardly behind her. Switching off the engine, Luca watched as Polly hurried up the outside stairs that led to the flat’s front door. She stumbled a time or two, struggled with the lock, then pushed her way inside, leaving the door wide open. Shaking his head, Luca phoned the surgery, reporting the status of the patient to Sue, the head receptionist, before having a quick word with Oliver to inform of the situation.

  ‘Go,’ his friend told him without delay. ‘I’ll take care of anything here.’

  ‘Thank you, mio amico.’

  Free to act, Luca set off in pursuit of Polly. If she thought for one second that he was going to drive away and leave her, she was very much mistaken.

  At the top of the wrought-iron stairs, he moved Polly’s bag further inside the flat, closed the door and locked it. Then he followed the sounds of panicked breathing and harsh crying, desperately needing to ease her pain and discover its cause. He found her in the bathroom, kneeling on the floor, one hand gripping the basin. His throat tight with emotion, Luca dropped to his knees behind her and wrapped her in his arms. She felt ridiculously fragile and tiny, and he was scared of hugging her too tightly. After a momentary struggle, the fight went out of her, allowing him to hold her close as he absorbed each shudder of her body, every agonised sob tearing holes in his heart.

  ‘Shh. Easy, mio amore. You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.’ Hoping to stop her hyperventilating, he whispered soothing words against her ear, one hand moving to stroke the silken strands of hair that fell in an ash-blonde cloud around her shoulders. ‘Breathe with me. Slowly, zingarella. One at a time. That’s it. And again.’

  Gradually, Polly’s breathing began to quieten and her tears to slow. As she rested limply against him, he reached around her with one hand and moistened the flannel on the side of the basin with cool water. Shifting position, he rose to his feet, scooping Polly up in his arms and carrying her to the small living room. She was as light as a feather, Luca fretted. He sat on the sofa, cradling her on his lap, brushing back her hair so he could gently bathe her face with the flannel.

  A ragged sigh escaped her and she let her head rest on his shoulder. Luca closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the subtle lilac scent of her, relishing the opportunity to hold her close even while hating the reason that had brought it about. Questions fired through his mind but remained unasked…for now.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Polly whispered, the warmth of her breath a soft caress against his neck, her voice raw and rough.

  ‘There is nothing to apologise for.’

  Luca eased her up, his heart stuttering as he looked into bruised blue eyes filled with pain, confusion and a definite hint of embarrassment. He wanted to do anything to take those away and to see her happy again. Cupping her face, savouring the downy softness of her skin and tracing the line of her neat, straight nose, the curve of her chin and the shape of her mouth with the pads of his thumbs. He leaned in and pressed kisses to her forehead, the tip of her nose, and an all-too-brief and chaste one to her lips, feeling the shiver of response ripple through her.

  ‘Luca…’ She broke off and cleared her throat.

  ‘Would you like some water?’

  When she nodded, he eased her off his lap and onto the sofa. He missed the contact, but he’d had to stop before he’d succumbed to temptation. When he kissed her properly, he wanted them both to be consciously aware and involved, not using it as an anaesthetic to mask other emotional events.

  In the kitchen, he ran the cold tap and, searching for a glass, discovered the sorry state of her cupboards. A peep in the fridge confirmed that aside from some tired fruit and the remains of the ingredients left over from her baking for the picnic, she had virtually no food in the place. His mind made up, he carried the glass back and handed it to her, waiting while she drank.

  ‘Can you stand?’ he asked, supporting her as she rose unsteadily to her feet, not giving her time to argue. ‘I’ll help you pack what you need.’

  She looked adorably befuddled as she stared at him. ‘What I’ll need for what?’

  ‘You’re coming home with me.’ Sapphire-blue eyes widened in surprise and alarm. Knowing he didn’t have much time, that he had to act before she regained her equilibrium, he stated his case. ‘I’m not leaving you alone like this, Polly. Apart from anything else, you have nothing here to eat.’

  ‘I’d planned a take-away after work and shopping at the farmers’ market in the morning before the clinic,’ she riposted, a flicker of her usual spirit returning.

  He believed her—although he suspected she had an issue with food—but he wasn’t backing down. ‘Either you walk or I carry you. The choice is yours, zingarella.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A FEW hours later Polly still felt shaky. And in shock. Not only because of the emotional turmoil of the last twenty-four hours that had brought her to breaking point but because of how wonderful Luca had been and the way she—who, thanks to Reg and her ex-husband, hated relinquishing control to anyone—had allowed him to take over without so much as a token protest.

  Maybe somewhere deep in her subconscious she had known all the time that Luca would come after her. When the storm had hit, cutting her free from her moorings and plunging her into the very depths, it had been Luca who had rescued her, Luca who had held her safe in his arms, Luca who had refused to abandon her.

  After leaving the Bridge Street flat, they had collected the twins from Carol. Polly’s heart had nearly broken all over again at the way the two little girls had shown such caring concern when their father had explained her presence and told them she wasn’t feeling well.

  Luca’s house was a mile further along the road from where Oliver and Chloe lived in Gatehouse Cottage and Gabriel and Lauren lived in the manor house. In the past they had all belonged to a big estate which had long since been broken up. Set back from the quiet country road and surrounded by woods and farmland, Polly remembered how rundown Keeper’s Cottage had been the last time she’d seen it. Now, the two-storey whitewashed cottage with its slate roof and two squat chimneys had been lovingly renovated. Scarily, she had felt immediately at home.

  While Rosie and Toni had watched a DVD and then eaten the supper their father had cooked, Polly had gratefully accepted Luca’s suggestion and had indulged in a long, leisurely soak in a hot, fragrant bath. She had emerged, dressed in unflattering but cosy pyjamas, in time to say goodnight to the girls who claimed a hug and a kiss.

  ‘Your phone rang,’ Luca told her, gesturing to her mobile that lay on the kitchen table where she had left it. ‘I saw Kate’s name come up on the display and thought she might worry if you didn’t answer. I just said that you were here and would phone back when you were free. I hope that’s OK.’

  ‘Thanks, Luca.’ The small gesture was kind and thoughtful to both Kate and herself…but a flush had warmed her cheeks as she wondered what Kate thought and if she was adding two plus two and making ten.

  ‘There’s plenty of Bolognese, Polly, and we have some blackcurrant cheesecake in the fridge,’ Luca had ad
ded, ushering his charges towards the stairs. ‘Help yourself to them, or anything else you want, while I get these two bathed and then to bed.’ He paused and met her gaze. ‘Then we’ll talk.’

  So thankful was she for the opportunity to eat alone—especially with the irresistible temptation of dessert—that Polly gave Kate a quick call and was halfway through her helping of the delicious spaghetti dish Luca had made before his final words sank in and brought her down to earth with a bump. It was unsurprising that he had questions…and wanted answers. But how much should she tell him? There were things even Kate didn’t know, Polly acknowledged, especially about Charles. Things she hoped never to reveal. So why was there a desire—almost a compulsion—to tell Luca?

  Although she had been fighting hard since the first moment she had set eyes on him, every day spent with Luca had further weakened her resolve. She had known him barely two weeks and already it mattered far too much what he thought of her. How would he react if he knew the truth? The mistakes she had made and the things she had done—as a teenager and, later, in her marriage—would no doubt shock and appall him. The thought of him disgusted and disappointed in her was too horrible to contemplate.

  Restless, Polly cleared the table and washed up, but her brain continued on the same track. What was it about Luca that caused her to act so out of character? The strength of the connection between them and the potency of her attraction to him were beyond her experience—and she found it impossible to believe that such a sexy and supremely masculine man like Luca could ever be interested in a someone like her…Plain Polly from Penhally.

  Her troubled thoughts fragmented when she heard Luca’s footsteps descending the stairs, and her tension increased. She was running out of time…and diversions.

  ‘Hi,’ he greeted her, the husky timbre of his voice sending tingles down her spine. ‘Everything all right?’

  Polly nodded. It was the only response she could manage as she had forgotten how to breathe when Luca walked into the kitchen and bestowed on her one of the special smiles that turned her bones to jelly. He’d changed out of the suit he had worn to work. Now jeans encased long, athletically muscled legs, the denim so worn and faded that it clung lovingly to him like a second skin. And his feet were bare. For some reason that was shockingly intimate and arousing.