Doctor...to Duchess?. Annie O'Neil

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СКАЧАТЬ rota of volunteers, it served as the only round-the-clock resource for the small village cut off from big city hospitals. There was a midsized NHS clinic about forty-odd minutes away if you didn’t get stuck behind a tractor. Helicopter was the only quick way to get to a proper hospital in an emergency and, with the government cutting funds left, right and center, she worried about the day they wouldn’t even have those. She’d searched on the internet for grants and extra funding and had already printed out an imposing stack of application forms waiting to be filled out. Soon. She’d get to them. Tonight.

      She tugged on a skirt and ran her good hand along the soft fabric of the peasant-style blouse she’d chosen. A peasant blouse to meet the aristocrat? She snorted. Hilarious. Her stomach did a nervous flip, and she gave herself a get-a-grip shake.

      What did she have to be nervous about? Being born into a great family didn’t make you great. Actions made you great. Like finishing a fun run with a throbbing hand. She let herself give a smug little sniff before grabbing her keys and heading to the clinic. Hopefully, the brisk walk would focus her.

      Julia was only seven months into her new job and it had already woven itself into her heart. Fat chance she was going to let Mr. Enigmatic Green Eyes with an unrelenting case of wanderlust take it all away. Never mind the minor fact he would one day be the rightful owner of it all—he clearly didn’t have any staying power! South Sudan? Republic of Congo? Libya? Where else had he been over the previous year? Sure, he’d been helping people—but what about the people here in St. Bryar? What about his father? It was one heck of a big place to be knocking around in on your own.

      She stopped short of harrumphing as she pulled open the clinic door, knowing full well she couldn’t really point that particular finger. Her whole life had been a catalogue of packed bags, long-haul flights, change-of-address cards and now, finally, in this beautiful untouched village, she thought she’d found her place in the world.

      “Anybody home?”

      Julia felt a tremble of excitement play at her fingertips at the sound of Oliver’s voice.

       Don’t let him rattle you! Put your best foot forward. Kill him with kindness.

      “Just coming!” Julia called down the corridor as she flicked on the power switches in the small X-ray room. If she could just exhale all the mean thoughts she’d been thinking, she just might manage to greet Oliver with a winning smile.

      One foot round the corner and her ambition flew out the window. The inscrutable look on Oliver’s face as he took in the time-worn reception area made her heart sink. Scruffy or not, she loved it here—avocado-colored carpet and all.

      “Looks like the old place is still in need of a facelift, eh? I don’t think it’s changed since I was a kid.”

      Julia met Oliver’s sardonic smile with what she hoped was a steely gaze. In reality, she was sure he could see the question marks pinging across her face. Good thing he couldn’t feel her pulse rate rising in exactly the way it shouldn’t be. Thanks a lot, blushing cheeks! You are relegated to the Turncoat Department!

      Oliver had the rugged, outdoorsy looks she’d always had a penchant for. Matt had been blond, buff and as “SAS poster boy” as they came. Of course, her husband had been attractive, but there was something almost primitive in the way she found herself responding to Oliver. No doubt about it, he was a top ranker on the masculinity scale. If anyone could make wire-rimmed glasses sexy, here was the guy. They leaned a studied air to his face, framed by that untamable black hair curling ever so slightly over his collar. His tweed jacket, complete with elbow patches, hung perfectly from his shoulders—the starting point of a lean physique. His long-fingered hands were obviously accustomed to hard graft. In short, he was not your typical la-de-dah heir apparent.

       Pity.

      It’d be easier to dislike him if he was a pale-faced, smarmy-eyed, snooty aristocrat. She turned on her heel and headed toward the X-ray room. Ogling him was going to get her nowhere.

      “Funny you mention it.” Be brave, Julia. “The clinic gets so much use from all of the villagers, it really would be a treat for them to have a cheerier reception center.”

      “Did you earn enough from your event today to cover the costs?”

      Ah. She knew that tone. The “expressing idle curiosity with an agenda” thing. Apparently, those Indiana Jones looks were masking an inner reptilian nature. No problem. She could do cold-blooded as well as the next person.

      “Probably.” She opted for a bright and cheery tone. “Although I expect the money we raised would be better put to use on medical supplies.” Snap!

      “That’s wise. People don’t take much to change here.”

      Julia didn’t risk a look back over her shoulder. Had he been patronizing her or complimenting her pragmatism? Maybe it was something deeper, something related to his childhood. There had to be something keeping him thousands of miles away from this beautiful nook in the world. Either way, she needed to stop taking things so personally. Each word he spoke was chinking away at her usually cool-as-a-cucumber exterior. Or was it those green eyes of his? The ones she wanted to stare into a bit more. See how the colors changed …

       Blink them away, Julia! Eyes on the prize, not on Oliver Wyatt.

      “You’ve switched things round. Shouldn’t these be exam rooms?”

      “Yes, they were. Traditionally.” She emphasized the word to let him know she was aware he, too, seemed to fall into the “people who don’t like change” category. “I’ve turned one into a … Well …” She faltered, wanting to choose the right turn of phrase.

      “Dr. MacKenzie? Is that you?”

      Julia gratefully slipped into the hospice room at the call.

      “Hello there, Dr. Carney. Everything all right?”

      “Yes, dear. Yes. I was just wondering how your Mud Day, or whatever you call it, went?” Julia’s heart melted as she put a hand on Dr. Carney’s wrist, taking a discreet check of his pulse. He was a dear man and just the reason the fund-raising was so important. Had it not been for a stage-four diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, she was sure he would’ve been out cheering at the finish line with the rest of the crowd. As things stood, she had a very quiet arrangement with the duke to handle the lifelong bachelor’s care. She smiled at the memory of the duke making her cross her heart and promise never to tell Dr. Carney—or Oliver—of the supplementary funding. It wasn’t a bottomless purse—but it helped.

      “Dr. Carney? It’s me—Oliver.”

      Julia stiffened as she felt Oliver approach then relaxed as Dr. Carney’s eyes grew wide with delight.

      “Oh, if it isn’t little Jolly Ollie!”

      Was that a grimace of embarrassment she saw? Ooh, this was going to be fun.

      “Jolly Ollie, is it?” Julia smiled gleefully. “I say, Dr. Carney—pray do tell more.”

      She raised a protesting hand as the frail man tried to push himself up into a seated position and failed.

      “Let me help.” She reached for his mattress sheet then, remembering she only had one good hand, thought better of making the shift on her own. “Sorry, СКАЧАТЬ