Second Chance With Her Island Doc

It didn’t. She was being dumb. This kind of thump on her head would make anyone dumb, she told herself. He was being purely professional. ‘Right, let’s get you sorted. Maria can take X-rays. I’ll come back with the results as soon as I can.’

‘Thank you,’ she managed. ‘There’s no hurry.’

‘There’s always a hurry,’ he said, and suddenly it was a snap. ‘That’s what my life is, thanks to your family.’

Your family... The words resonated, an echo of what he’d said all those years ago.

‘Your family robs my country blind, leeching every asset we ever had. How can I associate myself with anyone even remotely connected to the Castlavarans? I’m sorry, it’s over, Anna.’

‘So the judgement’s still there,’ she managed, and stupidly she was starting to feel her eyes well with unshed tears. It was the shock, she told herself. A decent thump on the head always messed with the tear ducts.

It wasn’t anything to do with this arrogant, judgemental guy she’d once loved with all her heart.

‘It’s not judgement, it’s knowledge,’ he told her. ‘Maria will take care of you. I’ll be back to sew things up. By the way, I will be charging.’

‘Charge what you like,’ she muttered. ‘And get me out of here as soon as possible. All I want to do is go home.’

* * *

He wanted her out of here as much as she wanted to be gone. Maybe more. The thought of a Castlavaran in his treatment room should be enough to make his skin crawl.

Only this was Anna, and what he felt for her...

She was two parts, he conceded. She was Anna Raymond, the redheaded, gorgeous, fun-loving fellow student he’d fallen in love with. But she was still Anna Castlavara, daughter of Katrina Castlavara, who was in turn the daughter of a family who’d held the wealth of this small country in its grasping hands for generations.

‘They’re nothing to do with me.’

He remembered Anna’s response when he’d first discovered the connection. His reaction had been guttural, instinctive, incredulous. For six months he’d been dating her. He’d been nineteen, a student madly in love, thinking life was as good as it could get. And then he’d met her mother.

Katrina had been in America when he’d first met Anna, with a guy Anna had said was one of a string of men.

‘We hardly see each other,’ she’d told him, but she’d told him little else.

It seemed she’d known little.

‘As far as I know, she left Tovahna in her teens and she hasn’t been back. She said her mother died young and her father’s horrible, but that’s pretty much all she’ll tell me. I imagine Mum would have been a wild child, so maybe that had something to do with it. Sometimes, though...when I was little she’d sing to me, songs like the one you heard, and in between men, when she was bored, she taught me Tovahnan. It’s always seemed fun, our own secret language. I suspect she was a bit homesick, though she’d never admit it. She refuses to talk of her family—she says they’ve rejected her and she’s rejected them. She’s said there’s no way she’d ever go back—that most of the young people from Tovahna end up emigrating.’

They still did, Leo thought grimly. The extent of economic activity on the island was to grow olives and tomatoes, fish and pay exorbitant rents to the Castlavaran landlords.

There’d never been a king, a president, even an official ruler. The island was simply owned by the Castlavarans. For generation after generation they had ruled with a grasping hand and nothing had disturbed that rule. There was little on this rocky island to invite invasion. Its inhabitants were peaceful, ultra-conservative, accepting the status quo because that’s what their parents had, and their parents before them.

Right now, though, the status quo had changed. The last male heir, Yanni, had left no descendants. The inheritance had thus fallen to a woman the country didn’t know, a woman who’d been born abroad, a woman who—as far as Leo could tell—knew little about her ancestors’ homeland.

Was it time for the population to rise up and say, ‘Enough’? The land should be owned by the people who’d worked it for generations.

It wasn’t happening. Any kid with any ambition had one thought and that was to emigrate, and the remaining islanders accepted apathy as the norm. That meant that Anna’s inheritance was being met with stoic acceptance.

Maybe he should lead a revolution himself, but he was far too busy to think of political insurrection. Work was always waiting.

Like Anna’s split head.

‘Please let it not be fractured,’ he muttered as he left her. Not only for her sake either. He needed to get her out of his hospital and then get on with his life.

His next patient was a child brought in by his grandparents ‘because he won’t eat’, which probably meant he’d been given so many sweets he didn’t need anything else. But they’d been waiting for over three hours. The toddler’s parents were off the island, visiting the little boy’s ill maternal grandmother, and he didn’t want them worried, so he took the time to reassure the grandparents. He gave them a chart where every single thing that went into the small boy’s mouth had to be recorded, no matter what, and sent them away dubious. But if they stuck to the chart they’d have forty fits when they saw how much they were sneaking—behind each other’s backs—into one small mouth.

At any other time that might have made him smile, but he wasn’t smiling when he returned to check Anna’s X-rays.

All okay. Excellent.

He still had to keep her in overnight. There remained a risk of internal bleeding.

But first stitching.

Carla was still caught up with a tricky birth. He checked in, hopeful, but there was no joy there.

‘She may need a Caesarean,’ Carla told him. Carla was in her sixties, tough and practical and kind. ‘We’re doing the best we can. First sign of foetal distress, though, and I’ll need you. Don’t go anywhere, Leo.’

‘I was wondering if you could do a stitching,’ he told her, glancing behind her to the woman in labour. ‘Swap places?’

‘I’ve been with Greta all the way,’ Carla said. ‘It’s not kind to swap now.’ And then she grinned. ‘Besides, Maria tells me she’s the Castlavara. I understand why you want to swap. Just treat her like anyone else and then multiply the costs by a hundred. Hey, if you’re nice to her maybe we could persuade her to fund us a new ambulance. Put on your charm, Dr Aretino, and go charm yourself our future.’

* * *

To say she was miserable was an understatement. She was tucked into a cubicle with curtains around her, cut off from the outside world. The painkiller Leo had prescribed had taken effect but was causing even more fuzziness, and there was still a dull ache. She was in a foreign country, in the hands of a man who’d made it clear ten years ago that he was rejecting her.

She wanted to go home so badly she could taste it, to her lovely little cottage in her English village, to people who treated her as a friend as well as a doctor, to her two happy, bouncy dogs.

It was mid-afternoon. Rhonda, her next-door neighbour, would be walking her dogs, letting them roam in the woods behind her cottage. The dogs would be going nuts, exploring the springtime smells, chasing rabbits, chasing each other, free...

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she was close to tears again and she never cried. She was an independent, strong career woman and tears were dumb. How she was feeling was dumb.

She should have asked someone to come with her. Her ex-boyfriend? Martin was a lawyer. They’d had what could only be called a tepid relationship before he’d fallen madly, deeply for her best friend, Jennifer. But they’d stayed friends and when the news of her inheritance had come through both he and Jennifer had been fascinated.

‘Summary,’ Martin had announced after considerable research. ‘The estate’s tied up in such a way you can’t offload it and the country’s in a mess. That mess is not of your making, though, and the Trust doesn’t give you much option to do anything about it. My advice? Leave it in the hands of this Victoir guy, who knows the layout. It’s pulling in an incredible income. Yes, the settlement decrees most of the income stays with the castle, but as overall owner you’re entitled to living expenses and those living expenses can be more than generous. You’ll be set for life. Sign the papers and forget about the rest.’

But it seemed too big, too huge, to simply sign and forget. Her colleagues were intrigued and helpful. Rhonda was happy to take care of the dogs.

There was the long-ago memory of a boy called Leo, but Tovahna was surely not so small she’d bump into him in the street.

So she’d bumped into a twelfth-century stone ceiling and she’d found Leo all by herself.

Oh, her head hurt.

And then Leo was back, brisk, formal, hurried. ‘Okay, Anna, let’s get these stitches sorted. Your X-rays are clear. No fractures. We’ll need to keep you in overnight for obs—you know that—but there should be no problem. Maria’s bringing what we need now.’

She hadn’t heard footsteps. She hadn’t heard the curtain draw back. Leo was just...here.

Her head felt like it might explode.

If she’d had a few seconds’ warning, if she’d heard him approach, then maybe she could have kept control, but she hadn’t and she didn’t. She made a desperate grab for the tissue box on the side table and buried her face in a sea of white.

Heroines in movies cried beautifully, glistening droplets slipping silently down beautifully made-up faces, lips quivering as brave heroines fought back overwhelming sadness. Then they’d blink back remaining tears and gaze adoringly at their hero with eyes still misty, and...most infuriating of all...not a hint of puffiness in sight. Then there’d be a kiss, with the heroine not even needing to sniff.

But that was in movie land, not on an examination trolley in a sterile, strange emergency room. Anna had to sniff. More, she had to blow her nose and even when she blew it, it kept running. And blinking was useless with this flood. Her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs and she couldn’t stop them.

This was crazy.

But maybe she should cut herself some slack.

She’d hardly slept since she’d received the news last week. The journey here had been arduous—where were decent connections when you needed them? Victoir had bombarded her with information she’d had no hope of getting her head around but she knew she had to. And then the dark, the bang, the shock and the loss of blood. She was overtired, overwrought, drugged and still in pain. And finally here was Leo, looking at her like she was something the cat had dragged in.

Leo, whom she’d once loved with all her heart.

She was buried under a wad of tissues but she needed more. She made a desperate swipe for the box but she didn’t connect.

And then a wad of dry tissues was tucked into her hand. The sodden ones were removed.

She could hardly thank him. She blew her nose again and struggled to stop the stupid tears.

Everything was shaking.

Stupid drugs. Stupid head. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

And then there was a heavy sigh and she felt a weight on the side of her bed. And arms came around her and gathered her into a warm, strong hug.

It needed only this.

The sensible part of Anna should react with horror. Sensible Anna should shove him away, tell him to take his prejudiced, judgemental self anywhere but here. The sensible part of Anna would...what? Walk out of here, bloodstained and woozy. Call Victoir to come get her?

But right now the sensible part of Anna wasn’t big enough to mount a coherent argument. The rest of her was mush, and that mush was being held fast by arms she knew.

She was being held against a chest she loved.

She didn’t love. She didn’t! But right now she needed. She let herself fold against him, feeling the strength of his arms, the warmth, the solidness.

He was wearing a clinical coat, a bit stiff. It felt okay. More, it felt good. Medicine and Leo, they were a solid combination of safety, surety. Home...

Where had that word come from? Home was England, the dogs, her village, her people.

She could feel his heart beating. Strong. Steady. Leo.

The shaking was easing. Whatever was happening, this helped. She had no strength to draw away and she didn’t want to. Drug-free medicine... A hug...

She let her mind stop its useless spinning and focus on just being held.

By Leo.

There was no pressure. He didn’t push her away, even as her sobs subsided. He simply sat and held her, letting her take as much time as she needed to get herself back together.

Letting her take as much comfort as she needed.

And she did need it. She didn’t want to draw back.

This was an illusion, a memory of times past, a comfort that shouldn’t be any kind of comfort at all.

Oh, but he felt...

‘Dressing tray.’ The female voice... Maria’s?...came from the doorway. And then there was an apologetic reaction as the nurse saw what was happening. ‘Whoops, sorry, back in a moment.’

‘It’s okay.’ Finally—to her regret—Leo pulled back. ‘Bring it in, Maria. Anna, are we all right to get these stitches in?’

‘I... Of course.’ The tears were gone. She was bloodstained, puffy-eyed and mortified, but somehow she hauled together what was left of her rag-tailed dignity. ‘Stitches and then twelve hours of obs and I’m out of here.’

‘That’s what we both want,’ Leo said, and, comfort or not, the old resentments surged back.

This man was her treating doctor. She needed him to help her. He’d comforted her with a hug.

She still wanted to slap him.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS A long night, and it wasn’t just medical need that made it so.

The sweet-eating toddler and Anna’s laceration were the last simple cases Leo saw. The birth Carla was attending did turn into a Caesarean and a dicey one at that. Greta was diabetic. She’d been desperate to have a natural delivery, had persuaded Carla to let her try, but by the time they’d bailed out her sugar levels had been all over the place. Carla took over the baby’s care and Leo was left trying to stabilise mum.

Then there were three injured teens from a street brawl. It wasn’t unusual. The kids here were bored. There were few jobs and little to aspire to.

And the woman responsible was in his hospital.

That wasn’t fair, he conceded as the night wore on. He snatched a couple of hours’ sleep but it was a disturbed rest, interspersed with thoughts of Anna. She hadn’t personally been responsible for her family’s greed.

But she was now. That one person could inherit such wealth, controlling the misery of so many lives... It made something inside him cold with fury, an anger he’d carried all his life.

Dawn saw him back on the wards. The teens were safe, their injuries relatively minor. Knife wounds, bruising, a couple of fractures, but he could cope with those. Ideally one of the boys should be sent to an orthopaedic surgeon, but where were the funds for that? He’d have to balance cost to the family against using the skills he had.

Breakfast was a fast cruise past the hospital kitchen. Carla found him there. She’d been home and slept. She was sixty but she usually chirped like she was about twenty years younger than Leo felt. This morning she was rubbing her temple, though, and looking tired.

‘Headache?’

‘I need aspirin,’ she conceded. ‘Though why I should have a headache when it’s you who was up most of the night... Rough?’

He nodded, swigging lukewarm coffee. If there was one thing he wanted more than anything it was to replace the coffee machine.

A new steriliser for Theatre came first. There were always things that came first.

‘No deaths?’ Carla queried, and he wondered if that was how he looked. Maybe. Anna’s arrival had jolted his world.

‘No one’s dead,’ he told her. ‘Though there are three kids who tried. Knives, alcohol...’ He shook his head. ‘Seventeen years old and not a job or a prospect between them. It’s a disaster, Carla.’

‘So talk to the heiress.’

‘You know the rules. The money’s tied up in the castle. Even if I could persuade her...’

‘You could try.’

‘She’s a Castlavaran. What’s likely to change?’ He swigged more coffee and put his mug aside. ‘Ugh.’

‘But she’s an outsider.’ Carla suddenly sounded chirpy again. ‘And Maria says you’ve met her before.’

Of course. Nothing in this hospital went unnoticed.

‘At medical school,’ he said, brusquely. ‘I didn’t know who she was.’

‘She’s a doctor?’

‘I imagine she finished her training, yes.’

‘Wow. That’s wonderful. You might even be able to persuade her to help us. Leo, what’s needed here is charm.’

‘Charm?’ He eyed her with suspicion. He and Carla went back a long way. In fact, it had been a much younger Carla who’d persuaded Leo’s mother—and the town—to send him to medical school in London. Carla herself had gone there, funded by an aunt who’d emigrated. She was full of energy and ideas and she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. He looked at her now and thought, Uh oh. He knew that look.

‘Why not charm her?’ she went on. ‘Maybe even take it further. She’s the same age as you are, and she owns practically this entire country. And now she’s a doctor.’

‘A doctor who’s a Castlavaran.’

‘That’s prejudice,’ she said sternly. ‘I’ve a good mind to march in there and charm for myself.’

‘You’re welcome. She needs to be checked and discharged.’

‘Your patient,’ she said, and chuckled. ‘And your project.’

‘I have work to do. My plan is to get her out of here as soon as possible.’

‘The country’s stuck with her, though,’ Carla said. ‘You could put in a bit of effort.’

‘Leave it,’ he snapped, and then caught himself. Any minute now Carla would be sussing out past history. ‘From all I gather, she’s here to accept her inheritance and go.’

‘So keep her in hospital a little longer.’

‘Leave it, Carla,’ he said again, and he heard his weariness reflected in his voice. ‘We have work to do. Your headache...’

‘Nothing aspirin can’t fix,’ Carla said, and she was watching him now with worry. She’d heard something in his voice. Seen something on his face? ‘Leo, what’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing that getting Anna out of our hospital won’t fix. Let’s move.’

* * *

Leo had written her up for painkillers, so Anna had slept. She’d had some breakfast. A very young nurse had helped her shower, washing away the worst of the bloodstains. She’d be wearing a scarf for a while but she was feeling a lot more in control.

She needed to get out of Leo’s hospital.

Her tiny room was clean but shabby, with faded linoleum, a stark iron bedstead, a small wheeled table and nothing else. Its one high window looked out onto a brick wall and the light was from a single bulb, hanging high. It was hardly a room for feeling better in, she thought. It felt more like a cell.

Had Leo put her in here purposely? Was it the worst room he could find?

She wanted to leave, now.

Victoir turned up soon after breakfast with her suitcase. He was appalled—appalled!—by what had happened and his volubility made her tired. She persuaded him to disappear while she rid herself of the hospital gown, but the effort of tugging on jeans and T-shirt made her feel woozy. She settled back on the bed, and almost immediately Victoir reappeared, this time carrying a sheaf of documents so thick the ache in her head surged back.

‘I can’t read them here,’ she told him. ‘And I need legal advice if they’re to do with the estate. Victoir, I’ll take them back to England with me and get them checked.’

‘I’ve only brought you the urgent ones,’ he told her. ‘These are things that can’t wait. Like blocking those tunnels. I warned you. The sooner they’re blocked—’

‘The sooner you can start turning the castle into your dream apartments?’

The voice from the doorway made them both start. Leo. Of course it was. Victoir swivelled and scowled, and Anna flinched—which was stupid. She wasn’t afraid of Leo.

She was afraid of how he made her feel.

‘Good morning,’ he said, edging into the tiny room. ‘Victoir, can I ask you to leave while I check Ms Castlavara’s condition?’

‘I’m Anna Raymond,’ she threw at him.

‘You own the castle. This entire country knows you as the Castlavaran and I’m not about to argue with my country. Victoir...’

‘Ms Raymond’s about to sign some papers,’ Victoir snapped. ‘They’re urgent.’

‘More important than Anna’s health?’

‘What gives you the right to call her Anna?’

‘I believe she gave me the right some years ago,’ he said, meeting Victoir’s challenge head on. ‘When we met at medical school.’

What the...? Was Leo about to discuss their past history in front of Victoir? She felt herself go cold at the thought.

‘We did meet while studying medicine,’ she said, hurriedly and grudgingly. ‘And he might as well use my first name if the alternative’s Castlavara. Victoir, I’m sorry but I’m signing nothing now. Dr... Leo will tell you that I’ve been taking strong painkillers, so nothing I sign now will be legally binding anyway.’

‘You’re fine,’ Victoir snapped. ‘No one will argue.’

‘I’ll argue,’ Leo said smoothly. ‘Victoir, leave.’

‘Please, Victoir,’ Anna added. ‘And take the papers with you. Honestly, I’m fuzzy.’

He knew when he was beaten. He cast her a look of frustration, but then softened.

‘I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re in no condition to consider. But we’ll get you home as soon as possible. You’ll need a couple of days’ recuperation—your castle accommodation will be a far cry from this.’ And he cast the room a disgusted glance, Leo an angry one, and stalked out.

Leaving her with Leo, which left her feeling weird. Alone, vulnerable...scared?

‘Don’t you have a nurse accompany you on your rounds?’ she asked, and for the life of her she couldn’t stop herself sounding like some sort of sulky adolescent.

‘If I was in England maybe I would,’ he told her. ‘But nurses cost money and this hospital has no money. We run on a skeleton staff. This whole country runs on a skeleton staff.’

It was an accusation.

She didn’t know how to answer. He was watching her like she was some sort of unknown entity, certainly not like a woman who’d slept in his arms, who’d shared his life...

Don’t go there, she told herself fiercely. Move on.

‘My head’s fine,’ she told him. ‘I’m fine.’ Being dressed should make her feel better, more in control. It didn’t. Somehow it made her feel defenceless.

The hurt she’d felt ten years ago was all around her. It was ridiculous, she told herself. You didn’t mourn a lost love for ten years.

But the hurt had gone bone deep, and it was surfacing again now. This guy was too tall, his eyes were too dark. His hair was too black. He was too much the same as he’d been all those years ago.

‘If you’re running on a skeleton staff then I’m taking up a bed,’ she managed. ‘Discharge me now, Leo. The sooner I get out of this cell the happier I’ll be.’

‘Cell?’

‘This room’s awful. Why on earth don’t you paint it?’

He didn’t answer. The look on his face, though...

Uh-oh. She watched his fingers clench into fists at his sides, and then slowly unclench, as if he was counting to ten, and then to twenty, and then maybe to whatever it took to hold his temper.

‘We have two private rooms in this entire hospital,’ he said at last. ‘We reserve them for those who desperately need privacy, usually those in the last days of their lives. We had a death just before you were admitted, which left this room free. Because of your...because of who you are...we believed a single room was imperative. Believe it or not, if we’d put you in a shared ward you would have had half the country visiting the patient in the next bed, just to get a look at you. So we did you a kindness. We put you in what’s one of our best rooms.’