First Comes Marriage. Sophia Sasson

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      “The townspeople call it Hell’s Bells. There’s a story behind it.”

      He let go of her hand and picked up her suitcase. Apparently, she was not going to hear the story today. She followed him out of the barn, struggling to keep up with him in her heels as he strode across the field. The point of her heel kept getting stuck in the mud. He looked back, his lips curved in a smirk.

      “Bollocks!” She reached down and took off her shoes, noticing the ruined heels. So much for the Manolo Blahniks. This was not the place for her London wardrobe.

      “Are you coming, princess?”

      “I thought I was the Queen of England!”

      “You’ve been demoted.”

      She rolled her eyes; he would be a handful.

      He extended his arm, offering his hand to her. She eyed it warily, not wanting to touch him again.

      “Come on now, I don’t have all day waitin’ on your delicate feet to make the trek.”

      She sighed and took his hand. It was warm and large. Grass and clover tickled her feet as he firmly but gently tugged her across the field.

      They arrived at a gravel road. She slipped her shoes back on and eyed the big stately house at the end of it.

      Wow! The place could have been Tara from Gone with the Wind, one of her favorite movies. Ivy grew up the white stone walls. There was a wraparound porch on the main level and a balcony on the second story. They climbed a set of brick steps that led to the front door. Jake opened it and set her suitcase down.

      Her eyes widened as she took in the two-level foyer. A double staircase wound up to the second floor, and worn-out gilding begged to be shined on the banisters. Dark wood floorboards were covered in a light blanket of dust. A coffered ceiling replete with cobwebs finished the look. Meera’s home was considered a small palace, especially by London standards, but this house was something else. Despite the grandeur, it lacked the stuffiness of aristocracy. Black-and-white family pictures, some yellowed with age, hung on the walls in different-sized frames. There was a spaciousness and welcoming charm that was missing in her family home.

      “This is beautiful.” Her heels tapped the floor as she walked over to a door and touched the handle. She immediately brushed the dust off her hands. “Why are these closed?”

      “It’s an old estate and very hard to keep up. We close the rooms we don’t use.”

      Meera nodded as if it made complete sense. But why wouldn’t you maintain your home?

      “There’s no kitchen in the guesthouse, so you can use the one in the back here.” He pointed to the only open doorway. “I try to keep the fridge stocked for the ranch hands. Help yourself to anything you want.” He grabbed a set of keys.

      “Come on, your house is this way.”

      My house? He took her around the side of the building. Meera gaped at the small stone cottage. Pretty rose vines crawled up the side. The front yard was overgrown with weeds, but she could already see the possibility of a proper English garden. Jake opened the front door.

      Inside, all the furniture was covered with white sheets.

      “You’ll have to dust things out...been a while since anyone was in here.”

      Was it her imagination, or did his face flicker with sadness?

      He showed Meera two bedrooms, a living room and a bathroom.

      “This is quite a guest cottage. Has it always been here?”

      “It used to be the servants’ quarters. I gutted it several years ago and made it into a house for...” His expression changed into something Meera couldn’t read. “Into a guesthouse.”

      Meera looked around and felt excitement bubble through her. This is just perfect—exactly what I need. It would take some work to clean up, but it was quaint and peaceful and all hers. For a whole month she wouldn’t have to answer to anyone, live up to expectations or deal with her usual obligations. Freedom! Spending a month in this small town was a small price to pay.

      “This is wonderful, thank you. What will you charge?”

      “How about an exchange of services?”

      “I beg your pardon?” Meera’s muscles tightened. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge Jake. She suddenly realized that she had walked into a place all alone, trusting a complete stranger.

      “You’re a doctor, right?”

      She nodded, relieved.

      “My ranch hands haven’t seen a doctor in years. I have twelve people—three women and nine men. I’d like you to give them a physical here on the ranch, make sure they’re good.”

      Meera frowned. “Why don’t they have a primary care doctor?”

      “They don’t have health insurance. I’ve been looking into gettin’ them some.”

      “Oh,” she said simply. She knew America didn’t have a National Health Service, but didn’t people with jobs have benefits? What could she possibly do on the ranch without a proper clinic or medical supplies? Her father had given her his old-fashioned doctor’s bag with a stethoscope and basic supplies when she completed medical school at King’s College. She considered it a sentimental gift but was glad she’d brought it along. “I’d be happy to do what I can for them, but if they need blood work, X-rays or any tests, they’ll have to come to the clinic or possibly the hospital. I really can’t do much by myself here.”

      He nodded. “Most of ’em can’t afford to see a doctor. Just having you do a checkup will be more than they’ve gotten in years.”

      Years without seeing a doctor? Her father’s medical practice in London was full of affluent patients; that’s why her supervisor had insisted she do this small-town rotation before he would sign off on the completion certificate for her research doctorate. She had tried to talk him into letting her go to New York—her father had even pulled some strings to line up a placement there—but her supervisor wouldn’t budge. He’d said she needed to understand how “real” people received medicine.

      Maybe this would work out better than she’d expected. “It’s settled, then. And I insist on paying for my groceries.”

      He glanced at her appraisingly, and she warmed under his gaze. “I doubt you’ll put a dent in our stock.” Jake waved as he stepped over the threshold to leave.

      She stared at him. Her best friend and cousin, Priya, would look at someone like Jake and get giggly. Meera could objectively acknowledge his handsomeness, but she saw the swagger that came with it. Not at all like Raj.

      “Before you leave, could you tell me why the town doesn’t want me to stay?”

      He turned back and laughed. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

      Her phone chirped, distracting her. She took it out of her purse and looked at the screen. Her СКАЧАТЬ