His Very Special Nurse

by Margaret McDonagh

  ‘Of course.’ Seeing the amusement in Conor’s eyes, knowing he had been suckered, Kyle hid his reluctance and took the piece of paper Hannah gave him. It really wasn’t out of his way and was the least he could do, given his boorish behaviour.

  The back route to Rigtownbrae from Lochanrig was wonderfully quiet and scenic in the time before dusk, sparsely populated with farms and country cottages, the wide glen with a mix of rolling farmland and pockets of woodland marked on one side by the lazy curve of a small river, and the other protected by the gentle arc of hills. Despite the darkness of his raging thoughts, the tranquility of the setting brought a measure of calmness. Having grown up on his parents’ farm in Ayrshire, he longed for the countryside, still missed the rural house and small patch of land that had been home while he’d been married, but which had been sold in the division of property at the time of the divorce.

  He was surprised when he arrived at the address Hannah had given him. He’d had no idea that Alexandra lived on a small, isolated working farm. There were no other properties within sight, and the single-storey sprawling cottage, whitewashed under a slate roof, sat back from the road in a picturesque spot and had a range of outbuildings, including two large barns, laid out around a small yard behind the house. A wave of longing swept through him and he shook his head. It was perfect, exactly the kind of place he would love to live, so much more peaceful and homely and welcoming than the bleak little house he now occupied in town. He wondered what help Alexandra had, how much work she had to do herself here since her father’s illness and death, and how she managed it all with a full-time job. It made him realise how little he knew about her, how successful he had been in blanking out any details of her real existence, because at a subconscious level he had known from the first second he had seen her that she was a threat to his resolve, his aloneness.

  Part of him wanted to turn and run, forget his promise to Hannah about delivering the cat trap, because that sense of threat was very real just sitting here, imagining seeing Alexandra on her home turf. Angry with himself, he left the car, collected the trap from the back and carried the unwieldy contraption towards the house. There were two doors on the one long side of the building. One was clearly a more formal front door, but further along was a back door off the kitchen where a few half-wild cats scattered from their positions near the porch at his approach, diving for cover under bushes or around the side of the house. Down a path between two outbuildings, he could see an open area where several chickens, watched over by an impressive, strutting cockerel, pecked and scratched contentedly on the ground. He would love to linger, to explore, to learn more about this place, but he didn’t dare.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he rang the bell at the front door, hearing a dog barking inside and, when it stopped for a few moments, the faintest sound of running water. He rang again but still no one answered. Alexandra’s car was in the drive, so she was clearly home—either out in the buildings or surrounding fields somewhere, or inside…taking a shower. The last thought was enough to stir his mind with uncomfortable images and tighten his insides. He’d done what Hannah had asked. Delivered the trap. She hadn’t said he had to hang around indefinitely to hand it to Alexandra in person. Taking the coward’s way out, cursing himself as all kinds of fool, he walked to the other entrance, opened the outer porch door, set the trap down, and scribbled a brief note on the back of the piece of paper Hannah had given him. That would have to suffice. He’d done his bit. With far too many confused and dangerous thoughts plaguing him, it was better by far that he leave now while the going was good and without having to endure another face to face encounter with the woman who had managed to thoroughly unsettle his carefully guarded and reconstructed world.

  ‘Success!’

  Sunday morning had dawned cool, crisp and autumnal, the low sun slanting its way over the line of the hills. Alexandra’s first task after dragging herself out of bed at far too early an hour had been to pull on her clothes and tiptoe to the barn to see if the injured cat had succumbed to hunger and taken itself inside the cat trap. It had! Fabulous. Careful not to cause the wounded stray too much stress, she approached the hissing, spitting, decidedly miffed animal and covered the trap with a blanket. All she had to do now was phone the vet and arrange to drop the animal in so it could be sedated and examined. If its injuries were treatable, she would bring the cat home when it was well enough and let it find its place amongst the assorted felines already populating her property.

  Back in the house after feeding the stock, letting out the chickens and completing a few of the dozens of other chores that needed doing, she made herself a quick breakfast and a much-needed first cup of coffee. Aside from a trip to the vet, she hoped to spend the day catching up on the growing list of jobs that were escaping her and with which she was falling ever further behind since she had begun nursing again full time. Thankfully, Jim Buchan, a retired stockman who had worked most of his life on a nearby farm, liked to keep his hand in, and had been helping her father and now her around the place for years. He had a dicey heart and had been pensioned off, much to his disgust, but he enjoyed his place with the Pattersons and Alex made sure he was careful not to overdo things. He was an absolute godsend, and she knew she would never keep the place ticking over without him.

  Sipping her coffee, she sighed, finally admitting that all her frantic thoughts were to keep her mind away from the one thing that had disturbed her unduly since yesterday. Kyle had been at her home. She’d been in the shower when the bell had rung, and by the time she had ventured out and made herself decent her caller had gone. But she had found the trap and the note, and a ridiculous fluttering had started in her stomach at the realisation that—albeit under instruction from Hannah—Kyle had dropped the trap by for her, had been just outside, a few feet away, while she had been naked under the hot spray of water. Heat crossed her cheeks and she told herself what an utter idiot she was being. She was just thankful she had avoided another difficult encounter with him, that he had left the trap and gone when she had taken so long to answer the door.

  The phone rang, putting an end to her unsettling musings, and she set down her mug and reached out for the receiver. ‘Alex Patterson.’

  ‘I’m sorry to do this to you, especially after yesterday and it being your first week, but we’ve had a nurse phone in sick. Could you possibly cover some of the essential calls?’

  Alex stifled a groan, seeing another day slipping away from her but knowing she couldn’t, wouldn’t, say no. ‘I have to go to Rigtownbrae anyway, so tell me what’s on the list.’ Tiredness laced her voice.

  ‘You’re a star,’ the woman thanked her sincerely. ‘I hate asking you to do this, but we’re desperate.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  After writing down the list of calls, addresses and subsidiary information she needed, Alex terminated the call and placed two more, one to old Jim asking if he minded coming in to mind the animals after all, and one to the vet, Alistair Brown, husband of Shona who was a district nurse at Lochanrig, to arrange with him about dropping off the injured cat. That done, she set off to change back into the uniform she had hoped to neglect for at least one day.

  Having seen to the cat and the handful of calls that had needed her attention, Alex stopped off at the surgery. With a hectic day ahead on Monday, she planned to write her report on the Campbells now while she had the opportunity to look over the notes, and also write up the details of the calls she had completed that morning. All was quiet as she let herself into Glenside and, after making herself a cup of coffee to accompany the sandwich she had brought with her, she collected the notes she needed and went through to the nurses’ room where she made a start sorting through them and writing up her calls.

  She left the Campbells until last. Glancing at Bill’s notes, she groaned. She’d had a one in three chance which doctor would turn out to be his GP. It was lucky she wasn’t a betting woman or she’d be seriously out of pocket with her bad run of luck. Ne
edless to say, the name on the notes was Kyle’s. Which made the issue of Penny’s neglect all the more challenging and complicated to deal with. Hell. She ran her fingers through her hair, lost in thought.

  ‘What are you doing here? I thought Penny was on duty today and you were supposed to be having time off.’

  A hand pressed over her heart, Alex swung round on her chair in shock at the sound of Kyle’s deep, husky voice. ‘You scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.’ He stared at her, an enigmatic expression in his midnight blue eyes, and she struggled to get her breathing back under control and find her voice. ‘The service called me in to work this morning as someone rang in sick.’ She hadn’t known that it was Penny, but she wouldn’t put it past the woman to have done it on purpose. Was that why Kyle had come to the surgery, hoping to see Penny? Confused and annoyed, she managed a shrug. ‘I had to come to town to the vet so I thought, as tomorrow is looking so hectic, I would take the chance to write up the notes now.’

  ‘Right.’ He continued to stand and stare at her, making her heart thud and her skin prickle. Did every woman Kyle looked at turn to a boneless puddle in front of him? Was it just her? Her brain congealed, her thoughts fragmented, every atom of her femininity flared with heat under the intensity of that searing blue gaze, but she couldn’t force herself to look away from him. ‘You caught the cat, then?’

  ‘Um, yes. Thank you for dropping off the trap,’ she managed, feeling as flustered as a nervy, besotted teenager.

  Kyle eased his hands into the pockets of his skin-tight jeans, drawing her attention to the perfection of his athletic, muscular frame encased in the faded blue denim that hugged his body like a second skin, topped with a rough Aran sweater, the cream colour accentuating his maleness and his rakish good looks.

  ‘Is the cat badly hurt?’ he asked now, and Alex felt as if her brain was on go-slow as she struggled to process the simple question.

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’ She swallowed, pausing to lick suddenly dry lips, alarmed when Kyle’s sultry gaze followed the movement of her tongue. Hell! She spun away and tried to focus back on the notes in front of her. ‘Um, Alistair Brown is taking care of it.’

  ‘Good. He’s an excellent vet.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Alex squeezed her eyes closed and prayed Kyle would go away. This was excruciating. Her heated awareness of him was painful and becoming embarrassing.

  ‘I’ll let you get on, then,’ he murmured after another agonising moment.

  ‘Right. Thank you.’

  He still showed no sign of leaving, however. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to come in today; you’ve worked hard this week.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘Still, it must be difficult with your farm needing your attention, too.’ She glanced at him, surprised at the interest in his tone. ‘It’s an impressive place.’

  ‘I like it.’ Which was an understatement.

  Frowning, Kyle pulled his hands free of his pockets and folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘It’s been hard for you. I’m very sorry about your father.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Uncharacteristic tears stung her eyes, not just at the grief of losing the man she had loved so much, and who had been as much friend as father all her life, but at the unexpected softening of Kyle’s manner towards her, the empathy and sincerity of his voice. What he said was true—it had been hard holding things together, keeping them going now. Money was tight. She’d not had any proper earnings for over a year, since she had first come home to care for her father. And it wasn’t as if the farm made any money. It barely ticked over, was certainly nothing like it had been in her childhood when her father had been well and fit and keen. She had been shocked at how run down things were when she had come home, and it had sunk in hard just how much her father had been struggling until then. Fortunately there were no debts, so they had just about kept their heads above water. She would never make any money out of the farm but she was determined to keep it on partly, she had to admit, for sentimental reasons. Much of the land was rented out to neighbouring farmers now, but she couldn’t bring herself to give up completely, and certainly she could never move away. She kept her hand in with some stock, thanks to Jim Buchan’s help, but it was just a hobby now for her and Jim. It was the job here at Glenside which was providing her with the only way she could survive and stay in the home she loved.

  ‘It’s not easy, but I’m coping,’ she answered, realising Kyle was waiting for her reply.

  Worry creased his forehead. ‘You have some help?’

  ‘Yes. I’m fine.’ If she said it often enough, she might just believe it.

  ‘OK.’ Kyle straightened and moved backwards into the corridor. ‘I’ll be in my room, I’ve got paperwork to do. Let me know if you need anything.’

  Alex managed a smile. ‘I will.’

  As she heard his footsteps retreat through the building, she leaned on her desk, trying to bring her frantic pulse back under control and draw air into starved lungs. The man was dangerous under normal circumstances—being nice, he was positively lethal.

  Determined to concentrate on what she was doing and put all thoughts of Kyle out of her mind, she phoned the Campbells to check on Bill, relieved to find he was comfortable, then returned her attention to her report of her visit to him the day before. Which meant thoughts of Kyle intruded once more. She was going to have to tell him what had happened and explain the pressure sore to him. Frowning with concern, she nibbled her bottom lip as she began to carefully word her assessment.

  How was he supposed to get any work done, knowing Alexandra was mere yards away? His concentration was shot to pieces. Kyle slumped on to his chair, not wanting to admit either how good it had been having a normal conversation with her or the way his body reacted just being in her presence.

  Thoughts of yesterday had kept him awake most of the night, especially the news from Conor and Kate about their baby. He’d been out for a punishing run, then was called to a multiple car pile-up on the motorway which had kept him busy for much of the morning in his capacity as BASICS doctor on call. The house had felt claustrophobic when he’d returned, so he’d walked up to the surgery to tackle the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Anything to try and forget, to not brood. Not that it was helping. Especially after finding Alexandra there.

  He’d arranged for a huge bouquet of flowers to be delivered to Conor and Kate in Glentown-on-Firth, expressing his genuine delight for them, and despite his own loss he knew he would spoil their baby rotten and be a devoted godfather. But deep inside it still hurt. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to ease the stabbing ache that seldom left him, the huge hole of emptiness that had swallowed him these last eighteen months.

  Sighing, knowing he was torturing himself but unable to stop, he took out the now rumpled photograph he carried with him always, the only one he had, taken from the last scan when his baby had still been alive. A time when life had been good and the future had held promise. A time before his whole world had fallen apart. Dragging the fingers of one hand through his hair, he leaned back in his chair and frowned, the pain tightening inside him as he recalled the moment it had become apparent that something was terribly wrong. The moment when he and Helen had been unable to speak to each other any more. Why hadn’t the shared tragedy of losing their baby pulled them together instead of driven them apart?

  He had known Helen for as long as he could remember. They had grown up in a small rural community in Ayrshire, he on the family farm, she the daughter of the local postmaster. She had always been delicate, shy, ethereal, and he had protected her from school bullies and teenage hurts, caring for her, watching out for her, at first like a big brother. They had been good friends for years before anything deeper had happened, at least on his side. He’d dated a few other people in the years he’d been away at medical school, which was where he had met and befriended Conor Anderson. But Helen had always been there, waiting faithfully and patiently for him, never seeming to wa
nt anyone else. He swallowed down a humph of bitter, humourless laughter at that thought.

  After qualifying, he’d secured his post in Rigtownbrae, and once he’d been settled and in a position to offer Helen something he had asked her to marry him, as had always been expected by both their families and themselves. Was that why they had done it—expectation? Familiarity? Comfort? Yes, he’d liked her, cared about her—but had he loved her as he should or had it been more affection, like a sister or best friend? Helen had claimed she trusted him, loved him, wanted to be with him. Yet marriage had never really suited her, not the most intimate part of it anyway.

  Helen had been so shy, so scared of passion, of sex, so he’d always kept things gentle so as not to alarm her, locking away any possibility of a more fiery need within him. Although they might not have lusted after each other, life had been good. They’d been happy. They’d had friendship, trust and respect. Or so he’d thought. But the marriage had become increasingly shaky. Would the baby have cemented things? Probably not. Although he’d longed for a family. He and Helen had talked about everything…until the day the wheels had come off and thrown everything into a chaotic, hurtful, embittered mess. Then he had found out he didn’t know Helen at all. He had lost her as well as his child. And along the way he had lost himself too. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find himself again or if there was anything left to find.

  He had been emotionally crippled by the grief, the betrayal, the loss. He’d forced himself to face a stark realisation. He knew with the benefit of hindsight that he had never loved Helen in the fullest sense of the word, had never felt those hundred and one things he should have felt when truly, deeply, helplessly in love—like needing her very presence to breathe, aching to hear her laugh, wanting to share every tiny joy, triumph and pain with her. He had loved her—had just not been in love with her. But he had genuinely cared for her, had given her everything he had to give of himself, devoted himself to her and all she had wanted. Helen had needed him and that had been enough. Once. Sort of. Or so he had thought. Until she had thrown it all back in his face. He had spent so long denying himself that now he didn’t know who he was any more.