A Gentle Giant
Caroline Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS a stone house, painted white like all the others, but large in comparison with its neighbours. Flowering shrubs nestled against the garden walls, their leaves still damp after the rain, and the intoxicating fragrance of night-scented stocks and nicotiana drifted on the mild evening air.

Jamie paused, her hand on the knocker, and listened to the stillness. She could hear the steady throb of a distant fishing boat, and the harsh cries of the gulls wheeling at the stern as the boat chugged steadily up the loch. Nearer to hand she caught the intermittent laugh of a little child, and the happy sound brought a soft smile to her lips.

It was so different from the city—so different, and so clean! No noisy crowds, no overflowing litterbins and gangs of youths hanging around every street corner. This small community, snuggled down in the fold of the land with the sea at its front and the mountains at its back, was a place where people worked hard and honestly. It looked clean and decent, a new beginning—and she was more than ready for it.

She straightened her skirt, smoothed her honey-gold curls into some semblance of order and drew a deep, sweet-smelling breath of fresh sea air. The smile still lingering around her soft blue eyes, Jamie turned back to the door and banged on the knocker. She heard the sound reverberate round the hall, and then quick footsteps approached.

‘Hello, there—come away in, would you, I’m just on the phone. Is it Dr Buchanan you’d be after?’

Jamie nodded agreement at the pleasant, middle-aged woman. That’s right—I’m——’

‘You’ll find him in the room on the left at the end—go on through, hen. I must get back to the phone. Can you manage?’

‘Of course,’ Jamie said softly to the woman’s retreating back, and headed quietly down the hall.

‘On the left,’ she murmured to herself, and, just as she reached the end of the corridor, a tiny child, vest flapping round her chubby legs, came barrelling round the corner, shrieking with laughter. A diminutive cherub, Jamie thought as the baby giggled again and waddled past her, her glossy black curls bouncing around her flushed cheeks.

‘I’m going to get you!’ growled a deep voice, and a huge bear of a man on hands and knees came charging round the corner snarling and snapping his teeth, and ground to a halt at Jamie’s feet. He looked up, his head level with her thighs, and gave a quiet groan.

‘Ah—er—hello!’ He stood up, brushing off his knees, and as he straightened, Jamie took a step back. He was huge! At five foot six, Jamie was used to men a little taller than her, although in high heels she could look many of her male colleagues in the eye. But this man! She didn’t even reach the dark-shadowed chin that jutted above her! Nor was he simply tall. He was broad, solid and vigorously masculine to boot.

He was also acutely embarrassed.

‘Sorry about that,’ he mumbled, a dull flush mounting his craggy cheeks. ‘Let me just catch the wee scamp and I’ll be with you. Chloe? Come here, darling——’

He squeezed past her and strode down the corridor. There was a delighted shriek, and the sound of an enormous raspberry, and then the man reappeared, apologising again. ‘That’s better; Mrs H has got her now. Come on in to the surgery.’ He led her down the corridor to the room opposite the one from which he had emerged, and opened the door for her, ushering her in with a hand on the small of her back.

It was impossible to go through the door without brushing against him, and, as she did so, Jamie felt the solidity of his body with a sensation of shock. He was built like granite, huge and unyielding, but unlike granite he radiated warmth and energy.

She felt at once safe and threatened, and for the life of her she couldn’t work out why. All she knew was that he had a physical presence, unrelated to his size, that something deep inside her had recognised, and she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

She took a deep breath and looked around, and was immediately captivated by her surroundings. The surgery was painted white, the plain walls hung with bold pencil drawings, delicate watercolours and children’s daubs in equal proportion. Mixed in among the colourful display were the more usual posters about breastfeeding and smoking. One of the amateurish paintings caught her eye.

In it a bright and vigorous sun shone cheerfully on a picture-book cottage, and a raggy tortoiseshell cat perched on the wall outside. ‘Dear Dr Rob,’ the straggling inscription read, ‘I’m better now. I love you. Trudy.’

‘Who’s Trudy?’ she asked with a smile.

She had thought he was ugly, has face too rugged for good looks, his heavy brows and battered nose no adornment to the rough-hewn plains and valleys of his cheeks above the jutting jaw. Then he smiled, and the sun lit up his midnight eyes and scattered in a million rays from the corners, and the brackets round his mouth deepened as a slow chuckle rose from his chest. Goodness, she thought, why ever did I think he was ugly? She had to force herself to take a breath.

‘A young fan,’ he admitted gently. ‘A real treasure, bless her.’

He closed the door and moved round behind the vast mahogany desk. ‘Take a seat. What can I do for you?’

She continued to stand, the lingering traces of a smile touching her eyes, and held out her hand. ‘I’m Jamie Cameron—I believe you’re expecting me.’

An expression of puzzlement crossed his face, and then he let out his breath on a harsh rush of disbelief.

‘Who?’

Her smile slipped, and she retrieved her hand from the air over his desk and tucked it into her jacket pocket. ‘Jamie Cameron. You were expecting me?’

‘No—that is, I was expecting a Dr Cameron, but I certainly wasn’t expecting you!’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’re a woman,’ he said accusingly.

She glanced down at herself and blinked. ‘So I am.

How astonishing!’

He glowered at her.

‘Is that a problem?’

‘A problem?’ he growled. ‘Are you joking?’

She lost the last of her smile. ‘Dr Buchanan, I can’t pretend to understand, but I can assure you I have in my bag a letter from you asking me to join you in the practice, initially for a trial period——’

‘Not you,’ he insisted. ‘There must be some mistake. Perhaps there were two candidates—Janie and Jamie are very similar——’

‘So they might be, but I’m Jamie, with an “m”—you know, for monkey?’

‘Not nuts?’ he said with an unexpected touch of humour.

Her lips twitched. ‘Not until I got here!’

His eyes swept her fleetingly, as if to check that she was indeed a woman, and he dropped heavily into his chair with a sigh. He muttered something under his breath that she pretended not to hear, and then he shot back the chair and strode over to the filing cabinet.

Yanking out a file, he returned to the desk and slapped the file down amid the papers that littered its surface. Several of them drifted off the edge of the desk and she bent to retrieve them. His finger traced down the application form to the M/F question, and stabbed the circled F viciously.

‘Oh, God, bloody hell. Why didn’t I see it before?’ he said bitterly.

She straightened up and glanced round at the chaos. ‘Perhaps because you were rushed off your feet and barely able to cope?’ she suggested gently.

‘More than likely,’ he muttered brusquely. ‘That’s why I wasn’t at the interview. Damn! Another wait. Oh, well, it can’t be helped——’

‘Wait? What are you talking about?’

He slapped the file shut and pushed away from the desk, propping his huge feet on the edge. ‘You can’t stay. Surely you can see that?’

She shook her head. Maybe the ten-hour drive had affected her mind, but she didn’t think so. ‘I don’t see that at all. I’m perfectly qualified to do the job!’

He cranked an eyebrow. ‘On paper, maybe.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Tell me, Dr Buchanan, how many suitable applicants did you have?’

He sighed and ran his hand through the tangle of black locks that fell forward over his brow. ‘Only you,’ he admitted reluctantly, but he met her eyes frankly. ‘You were the only suitably qualified applicant stupid enough to want to work out here in the wilds of nowhere who had enough money to invest in the practice and no overriding need to escape from the world. That’s why you were offered the job. That, and because I thought with a name like yours you would be a Scotsman with some understanding of the country.’

‘And would you have put my application forward if you’d realised I was a woman?’ she asked quietly.

He met her eye without a qualm. ‘No way. This is no place for a girl.’

‘Rubbish! Lots of women live out here quite happily!’ She stressed the word ‘women’ slightly but deliberately. His gaze flicked over her, and returned to her eyes.

‘They’re raised to it. You aren’t. You belong in the city, Dr Cameron, not the wilds of Scotland. You aren’t safe here.’

She gave a harsh, bitter laugh. ‘Dr Buchanan, I did my GP trainee year in an inner-city practice. In one month alone my flat was burgled three times and I was mugged and almost raped while I was making a night visit. You call that safe?’

He gave her a level look. There are different types of safety. Up here, you get into difficulties in the snow and good men are going to risk their lives to help you.’

‘And they wouldn’t help you? What if you got stuck in the snow?’

‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Superman, eh?’ She snorted. ‘God deliver me from arrogant male chauvinists!’

‘If I have my way, He will,’ Dr Buchanan muttered, reaching for the phone. Two seconds later he slammed the receiver back down and growled something unintelligible.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Sunday,’ he said succinctly. ‘There’ll be nobody there.’ He glared at her for a moment or two, and then, as if he had made up his mind about something, he unfolded his long body and stood up. ‘I’ve got two calls to make. You might as well come with me, then you’ll get some idea of what we’re up against. Perhaps it’ll put you off.’

‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she muttered.

His craggy brows shot up. ‘What?’

‘I said that will be very nice.’ Ignoring her pounding head and the crick in her back from the long day behind the wheel, she rose calmly to her feet and followed him. He went into an office that was marginally more chaotic than the surgery, and retrieved two sets of notes from the wall of patient files, then picking up a battered old medical bag in one hand and his coat in the other, he held the door for her.

They met Mrs H in the hall, the dark-haired moppet in her arms. ‘Another call for you, Doctor. Trudy’s got a query again. I said you’d pop in and have a look.’

He dropped a kiss on the baby’s head, tousled the soft curls and went back into the surgery. When he emerged, he gave Jamie a thoughtful look. ‘Have you arranged accommodation yet?’

She shook her head. ‘I thought I’d book into the pub until I’d found somewhere to rent——’

Mrs ? tutted disapprovingly, and Dr Buchanan turned to the housekeeper. ‘Mrs Harrison, Dr Cameron will be staying the night. I wonder if you could make up a bed for her in the spare room? I’ll take the phone—contact me if any more calls come through.’

With that he kissed the baby again, opened the front door and ushered Jamie out into the still evening. She breathed in the heady scent of the flowers, and followed him to a battered old Land Rover standing in the drive.

‘Why do you feel the need to control people?’ she asked loudly as they roared off down the road in a great cloud of diesel fumes.

He looked puzzled. ‘Control who?’ he yelled.

‘Me! I would have been quite happy in the pub, but you obviously have this absurd moralistic and chauvinistic attitude towards women——’

‘It’s shut.’

‘What?’

‘The pub. It’s shut. Sunday. With the best will in the world you couldn’t have stayed there tonight, and anyway they don’t do accommodation.’

‘Well, I could have found a guest house——’

‘No chance. It’s September.’

She gave an exasperated sigh and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. ‘Would you care to elaborate?’

He shot her a grin. ‘Sure. Shooting season. The place is overrun with guns.’

‘Oh.’ Suitably chastened, she fell silent for a while, and then her professional curiosity got the better of her. ‘Who are you going to visit?’

‘Elderly woman who’s had a fall and may have a fracture, and a woman who thinks she’s in labour prematurely.’

‘And Trudy.’

‘Aye, and Trudy,’ he said softly—so softly that she wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t been watching him.

‘Tell me about her,’ Jamie prompted.

A whole series of emotions played across his face, and then he sighed. ‘She’s eight. She got glomerulo-nephritis from a neglected strep throat, and ended up with chronic renal failure. To make matters worse her mother’s disabled. It made Trudy’s dialysis difficult, because Mum can’t drive and they can’t afford a home dialysis unit. She’s missed so much school, and become so exhausted with all the travelling, that they’ve switched her to CAPD—continuous ambulatory peritoneal dialysis. So far she’s doing really well, but every now and then she gets a touch of peritonitis and we all panic for a bit until it settles down.’

‘Isn’t she very young for that? I mean, changing the fluid all the time and so on—does her mother do it for her?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Trudy virtually runs the house, and all her CAPD procedure is handled by her. Her mother’s always there, but I get the feeling Trudy is the one who does the bulk of it. She’s so gutsy, it makes you weep.’ He gave a self-conscious laugh, and flashed her a grin. ‘She’s a great kid, but what she needs is a transplant.’

‘What about one of her family donating a kidney?’ Jamie asked. ‘If it was my child, I wouldn’t hesitate. I assume no one is suitable?’

‘There’s only her mother, and she’s got MS. It makes her a rather unsuitable donor!’

‘Oh, good grief, the poor child!’

‘Mmm. Exactly.’

They travelled in silence for a while, each absorbed in thoughts, and Jamie was able to look at her surroundings. Dusk was falling as they approached a lonely cottage on a tiny, winding track.

He braked to a halt outside the cottage and jumped out. ‘You might as well come in,’ he said briskly, and went inside. She followed him slowly, her legs stiffening up after the long day, and found him crouched on the floor in front of a frail little lady, her tiny wrist lying oddly in his great hand.

Jamie noticed that it had the classic ‘dinner-fork’ appearance of a Colles’ fracture.

‘You’ve done it again, my darling, haven’t you?’ he said softly, one finger lightly brushing the back of her gnarled hand. ‘You’ll have to go to the hospital for an X-ray, and then they’ll set it for you and put it in plaster.’

‘I thought you’d say that, so I packed a bag and arranged for my neighbour to feed the cats. Do I have to go? I hate that place, it’s so noisy. Can’t you set it, Doctor?’

‘Not really, my love. You’d be better off in the hospital, truly. I’ll put a splint on it so it doesn’t hurt you, and then we’ll call the ambulance and they can come and get you.’ He laid her hand gently back in her lap, and stood up, his head bowed to clear the low ceiling. ‘I tell you what, I’ll do a deal with you. You promise not to do this again, and I’ll send you to the cottage hospital instead of Fort William. How’s that?’ he said with a wink, and the woman laughed.

‘I’ll do my best just for you, you handsome devil!’

He gave a cheeky grin. ‘That’s what all the ladies tell me!’

While he went out to the Land Rover for the splint and then phoned the hospital, Jamie introduced herself and admired the patchwork that was sticking out of a basket in the corner.

‘I do them all the time—well, with no television there’s not a lot to keep me out of mischief——’

‘They’ll be here in a minute. That’ll keep you out of mischief for a day or so. Let’s get this splint on.’

Jamie watched as he dealt tenderly with the broken limb. For such a big man he was incredibly gentle, his large hands surprisingly deft. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

She was caught staring, of course. He lifted his head and met her eyes and an eyebrow quirked mockingly at her.

‘Never seen a splint put on?’ he ribbed gently, and she flushed.

‘Of course I have!’ she muttered defensively, and he laughed.

‘Of course. There you are, Mrs McKay. All done.’

A few moments later the ambulance arrived to take her to the cottage hospital, and they set off again.

‘Where to now?’

‘Mrs Reeve—baby’s not due until the middle of October, but she’s had a show and the odd twinge. I said I’d look in, and luckily it’s not far away, then it’s back to Trudy.’

A short while later they turned off the main road on to a bumpy farm track, and bounced and jostled along for about a mile before reaching the isolated croft at the end.

‘What a lovely place to live!’ she exclaimed, gazing round at the broad swaths of heather and grass dotted with sheep and bathed with gold by the slanting rays of evening sun.

‘You think so? Of course it’s very pretty in September, but in January it’s quite different. They can be cut off for weeks at a time.’

He was only trying to put her off, she realised, so she ignored his comment.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Only if you promise not to stare,’ he told her, and she blushed again.

‘I wasn’t staring. There was nothing else to look at!’

He grinned. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just not used to being watched all the time. Of course you can come in.’

He led the way, introducing her to Mr Reeve, a tall, solid young man in his late twenties.

‘I expect you’ll want to wash your hands,’ he said to Rob, and the doctor went over to the sink in the corner of the living-room-cum-kitchen, stripped off his coat and scrubbed thoroughly.

The shepherd handed him a towel, and then opened a door. ‘Josie’s in bed,’ he told them, and they followed him out to the back of the little single-storey cottage. ‘Doctor’s here, hen,’ he said gently, and the woman turned her head and smiled sleepily, pushing herself into a sitting position.

‘Sorry, Doctor, I dozed off. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to call you out—it’s probably nothing, but I just felt I ought to check.’

He smiled reassuringly. ‘That’s what I’m here for, Mrs Reeve. Let’s have a look, can I?’

The woman eased back down the bed, and he pulled back the covers and felt her abdomen all over, his huge hands all but covering it.

‘How often are the contractions?’

‘Half an hour or so—nothing very bad, but they were stronger than the others, the practice ones you told me about—oh, there’s one starting!’

He kept his hands still, and then nodded. ‘I’m fairly sure they’re still just the Braxton-Hicks, but if I can just take a look we’ll be sure. What was the show like?’

‘Just a slight pink stain—nothing much, but I didn’t know what to expect.’

‘More than that, probably, but not everybody has one.’ He flipped open his bag, pulled on a pair of gloves and examined her deftly while her husband shifted awkwardly near the door. Jamie smiled at him.

‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it?’ she said quietly.

He seemed relieved to be given something else to focus on. ‘Aye, we love it. Couldn’t live anywhere else. Can’t stand the city.’

She grinned. ‘Neither can I—dirty, stinking place. Give me the country any day of the week.’

She turned back to Mrs Reeve, who was now respectable again.

The doctor was stripping off his gloves and shrugging back into his jacket. ‘No problem. Your cervix hasn’t started to open yet, as I thought, but I doubt you’ll be long. That’s a fair old baby you’ve got there, you know.’

She smiled. ‘Takes after Sandy, I expect,’ she said fondly.

‘You’re sure of your dates?’

‘Oh, aye. There was only that one month, because the month before Sandy was away bringing the sheep in, and he was too tired …’

She flushed and trailed to a halt, and Dr Buchanan stifled a smile.

‘Just try and rest a bit for a few days, and call me if you’re the slightest bit worried. Don’t worry about wasting my time. I’d rather be called too early than too late, all right? I’ll see you on Tuesday at the clinic.’

As they walked back to the front of the house, Sandy took the doctor on one side and murmured something to him. Judging by the way he blushed and shifted from foot to foot, it was something he would rather Jamie didn’t hear, so she took herself out to the Land Rover and waited there.

A few seconds later the doctor emerged, shook hands with the young shepherd and climbed up into the cab.

As they pulled away, a broad smile broke up his rugged features, and he turned to her, his eyes twinkling.

‘He’s had a quiet week on the farm, and they’ve been taking advantage of the fact to do a little honeymooning. He wondered if he might have done her any harm!’

Jamie chuckled. ‘Judging by his smile, you set his mind at rest!’

He nodded, and the smile faded. ‘On that score, but I’m still concerned about the baby’s size, and to a certain extent its position. The head’s engaged, and all I can feel is hands and feet and bottom, So I think we may end up with a malpresentation. Of course there’s nothing to stop it turning; it’s still pretty active. I’ve told him to bring her in to the branch surgery on Tuesday and bring a urine sample—I just want to check she’s not become diabetic during her pregnancy, but she hasn’t got any of the other symptoms. It could be deceptive, of course, but I think I’ll get her sent along to the hospital for a scan.’

Jamie’s brow creased into a frown. ‘Do you think she’ll have problems with delivery, then?’

He shrugged. ‘Could be. Her pelvis isn’t bad, but that baby seemed big enough now, and she’s still got six weeks to go.’

‘Trudy next?’

‘Uh-huh. That’s back the way we’ve come and on a bit further.’ They headed down the track, turned left at the end and made good speed along the narrow, twisting road back to the coast. Then they ran along beside the loch again, sometimes so near to the water that Jamie felt she could touch it. The darkness was creeping in, and with it her tiredness, but the peace and tranquillity took the edge off her discomfort and she relaxed back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Seconds later she was being shaken gently awake by a massive hand cupping her shoulder, and as she straightened she found herself inches away from his startling slate-grey eyes.

‘I went to sleep—I’m sorry,’ she said breathlessly, and he nodded slightly. ‘It’s the drive—I left early this morning.’

He nodded again. ‘You should be tucked up in bed somewhere, not gadding about the countryside. We’re at Trudy’s house—do you want to come in, or stay here and rest?’

She looked around. They were parked outside a little terraced cottage in the middle of a village—if you could call it that. Out here, where neighbours were few and far between, a cluster of five or six houses probably did count as a village, Jamie thought, and it was here that Trudy lived.

‘Come in?’

‘Come on, then.’

He swung down from the seat, hefting his bag like a handful of feathers, and strode up to the door.

It was answered by a small girl who looked about seven at the most, but turned out to be Trudy, small for her age because of her temperamental health.

‘Hello, Dr Rob!’ she said with a gappy smile, and he ruffled her hair and hugged her against his side with one long arm.

‘How’s my girl, then? What’s this I hear about you not feeling too good?’

‘Oh, I feel fine, but I had jellyfish in my effluent and Mum though I ought to call you. I told her it was just fibrin, but she panics!’

Jamie stifled a grin, but Rob was dead-pan and serious.

‘Did you save it for me to look at?’

‘Of course!’ She gave a cheeky grin and led the way through to the little sitting-room. ‘Mum, Dr Rob’s here. He’s brought a visitor. Come away in and sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘No, thank you. Trudy, come here and sit down and let me see this effluent. I expect Dr Cameron here would like to see it too. You’re sure you feel quite well?’

‘Uh-huh—I’ll get it.’

She skipped off, and her mother gave a weary smile. ‘She should be in bed by now, but I thought—I’d hate to neglect her and have anything dreadful go wrong. Like that sore throat—I’ll never forgive myself for that, but she always had them, and I thought it was just one more …’

Rob laid a hand on her knee and squeezed gently. ‘You had enough on your plate, Mrs Douglas. Your husband had just left you, your MS was progressing fast and furiously—no one could possibly blame you, and I’m damn sure Trudy doesn’t. And I think you did the right thing to call me tonight. Ah, Trudy, let’s see your jellyfish.’

He held up the bag of yellow-coloured fluid which had been used to dialyse Trudy, and frowned at it. ‘You sure you haven’t been fishing in the loch?’

She giggled. ‘I fell in yesterday—maybe some of the jellyfish swam inside then!’

He lowered the bag. ‘Did you fall in?’

‘No, of course not! I was just teasing you.’

‘Hmm. I’m never sure with you, young lady. Well, I reckon that’s all right, but I think we need to have a look at you. Could you just lie down on the settee and let me see your tummy?’

Once again Jamie was fascinated, but this time by Trudy. Just beside her tummy-button was a neat little hole through which emerged a catheter with a connector on the end, linked to another length of tube that ran to an empty bag. The skin around the exit site was clean and pink and healthy, and Rob nodded and covered the little girl up.

‘How’s your weight?’

‘Fine—going up a bit, but I’ve grown, so I think that must be why. I tried drinking less in case it was a fluid build-up but I got dehydrated——’

Trudy, come and talk to me or the clinic before you alter your fluid intake, love.’

The child instantly looked crestfallen, and he sat beside her and engulfed her little hand in his.

Trudy, I’m very proud of the way you’ve learnt to understand your condition and deal with all your problems, but there are times, and things, that you don’t know enough about. You know, the health service pay me and the people in the CAPD clinic a lot of money to help people like you—it’s cheating them if you won’t let us!’

She looked up at him, her serious face melting into a loving smile. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. You always look so tired…’ Her little hand came up and cupped his cheek, and he flushed slightly and hugged her.

‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m fine. Anyway, Dr Cameron here is going to help me for a little while. Let me take your temperature and blood-pressure. Any chest pain, swollen ankles or shortness of breath?’

She shook her head, temporarily silenced by the thermometer.

‘Peaceful, isn’t it?’ Rob joked, and Trudy punched his arm gently.

He grinned and took the thermometer out of her mouth. ‘Fine. Good. I’ll put some heparin in the next couple of bags to keep the fibrin down, so it doesn’t clog the tube, then I want to know if it comes back again or if the effluent quantity is down. OK?’

Trudy nodded sagely. ‘Shall I ring the clinic?’

He tapped her on the end of her nose. ‘No, madam, you shall not, I’ll do it. I’ll see you again in a day or two. Now, how about going to bed?’

He was quiet on the way back to the surgery, and so was Jamie. In fact, she was too shocked and moved to speak, her thoughts trapped by the tremendous courage of the little girl whose life was destined to be dominated by her dialysis. Over and over again medicine had shown her the vast resources of courage that people, and especially children, were able to tap in times of crisis. It was humbling, and awe-inspiring, and just then it made her want to cry.

She huddled down in the seat and turned her face to the window, staring out into the almost dark night. Although it was late, the night was clear and bright, the moon gleaming coldly on the rocks by the shore. It was a night for lovers, she thought sadly, a night made for strolling hand in hand—not for sitting beside a man who had made it clear he had no use for her.

She risked a quick glance at his stern profile, and swallowed. He looked angry—furiously so, and she wondered why.

‘She needs a transplant,’ he growled. ‘Poor bloody kid shouldn’t have to suffer like that! It makes me so cross—the number of people who die with perfectly healthy kidneys, and because they haven’t thought of carrying a donor card, a kid like Trudy is condemned to an abbreviated lifetime of constant dialysis.’

‘She’s got time,’ Jamie murmured soothingly. ‘Perhaps a kidney will turn up soon.’

‘Maybe.’

He turned the Land Rover on to the drive and cut the engine, and the quiet of the night stole over them, A dog was barking somewhere in the distance, and they sat for a moment absorbing the stillness. Then the front door was opened and a golden flood spilled out into the garden.

‘Call for you, Doctor. Mrs McRae—think’s she’s got a chest infection. And the babe won’t settle without a kiss from her father.’

He grinned. ‘I’ll give her won’t settle. Call Mrs McRae for me and tell her I’m coming, and I’ll sort Chloe out.’

He was in, upstairs, back down and off out again within five minutes. Mrs H took Jamie upstairs and showed her her room and the bathroom which she would share with the housekeeper and the baby.

‘Dr Buchanan’s got his own bathroom off his bedroom, so we’re quite private. I expect you’d like a bath and then something to eat, wouldn’t you? You look all in.’

Jamie agreed, and bathed quickly, dressing warmly in a tracksuit before running back downstairs. She found the kitchen by trial and error, and Mrs H turned to her with a smile.

‘Here you are, lass. Bacon and mushroom omelette and a cup of tea.’

Jamie returned the smile. ‘Thank you, you’re very kind. How did you know I was hungry?’

There was a motherly chuckle. ‘I didn’t, but it was a fair bet that you hadn’t eaten before you got here, and the doctor wouldn’t have given it a thought. If it wasn’t for me tying him down and force-feeding him three times a day, that man wouldn’t eat from one week’s end to the next.’

‘What about his wife?’ Jamie asked, and the housekeeper’s face lost its smile.

‘Away,’ she said briefly.

‘On holiday?’

She snorted. ‘You could say that.’

‘Oh.’ Jamie didn’t quite know what to make of that. ‘When’s she coming back?’

There was a slight sound behind her, and she turned, the blood draining from her face. She had never seen anyone look so angry in her entire life. Then he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

She turned her bemused gaze back to the housekeeper, and the woman sank down at the table and covered Jamie’s hand. ‘Don’t let him frighten you—and don’t let him drive you away either. If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’

‘Tell me about his wife,’ Jamie pleaded.

The woman shook her head. ‘If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself. I’ll tell you this much, though. She’ll not be back, and good riddance. He doesn’t need her, and no more does the child—but I’ve said enough. Ask him—if you dare—but pick your moment. He’s awful touchy about it still.’

Jamie had noticed—and she had no intention of asking him about any such thing. Besides, it was by no means certain that she’d even get the chance!

CHAPTER TWO

IT WASN’T a good night. Between the strange bed, the uncertainty about her future and Rob Buchanan’s anger over her inquisitiveness, Jamie didn’t sleep much.

Her room was above the front door, and so she was aware of the exact number of times Rob was called out, and how long he was gone each time.

By five-thirty, when he left again, he had been in for precisely four hours, in three stretches, since the unfortunate scene in the kitchen—this on top of an already punishing schedule and at the start of a no doubt hectic week. Jamie sighed. Why was he so determined to get rid of her? Mrs H’s words came back to her. ‘If ever a man needed help it’s that one.’ Well, it was up to her to make him accept it—at least temporarily.

Throwing off the bedclothes, she made her way to the bathroom, had a quick wash and then dressed in the colourful and pretty tracksuit she had worn the previous night. With her trainers in her hand, she crept down the silent landing and tiptoed down the stairs, letting out her breath as she closed the kitchen door behind her. She put the kettle on and made a cup of tea, and then while it cooled she started her warm-up routine. She was standing head-down with her back to the door and her hands grasping one ankle when she heard a slight noise behind her. Peering through her legs, she saw a large pair of shoes at the bottom of impossibly long legs clad in lovat-green wool trousers.

She dropped her ankle as if it were red-hot and snapped upright.

‘Good morning.’

She shoved the hair off her face with both hands and turned reluctantly to face him, conscious of the flush on her cheeks and, strangely, every curve and hollow of her slender body. She tugged the tracksuit top down and tried for a smile.

‘Morning. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I haven’t had a better offer all day,’ he murmured. He hooked a chair with his foot and dropped wearily into it, one arm lying along the table-top with the elbow bent and his head propped on his hand.

She found another cup and filled it, then set it down beside him. His eyes were shut, and he looked absolutely exhausted. His skin was grey, the dark hair heavy on his brow in stark contrast. There were black shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollowed and deeply etched. He needed a shave, and the dark stubble did nothing to improve his appearance. He looked like a convict on the run, a man at the end of his tether. She stifled the urge to pull his head against her breast and smooth away the cares, instead perching on a chair near him and watching him with steady eyes.

After a few seconds a soft snore escaped him, and she realised he was asleep, bolt upright in the chair. Poor man. Poor, exhausted, stubborn, foolish man. She reached out and touched his arm lightly, and his eyes flickered and opened slowly.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered gruffly, and reached almost blindly for the tea.

‘Bad night,’ she stated gently, and he nodded.

‘Did I disturb you?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really, no.’

‘Just wondered. You’re up awful early.’

‘I was going for a run. It looks a lovely morning.’

He nodded. ‘It is.’ He cocked his head on one side. ‘Mind if I join you? I could do with a little fresh air.’

Well, what could she say? No, I want to be on my own? Yes, by all means, but keep your rotten temper to yourself?

‘That would be very nice,’ she said instead, and wondered why she didn’t choke on the lie. Still, it would give her a chance to be with him, and perhaps they could talk again about the practice. He couldn’t deny that he needed help, and she was ready, willing and able—not to mention having a contract in her handbag, which must surely mean something?

She stirred the dregs of her tea idly while he went and changed, and the thoughts ran endlessly round in a continuous loop, always coming back to the same thing—if Rob Buchanan wouldn’t let her help him, there was nothing she could do about it.

He was back quickly, and she pushed herself to her feet before she turned to look at him. Instantly, she wished she had remained seated, because he was dressed in nothing more than a pair of satin running shorts and a running vest that did nothing to hide him from her eyes, and he was hugely, overpoweringly—well, male, really, she thought with a last vestige of humour. It was just that the word man was suddenly redefined before her eyes, and it frankly took her breath away.

‘Ready?’

‘I—yes, of course.’ She pushed the chair under the table, took a deep breath and followed him down the hall. He stood back to hold the door for her, and she squeezed past him, skilfully avoiding contact. ‘Which way do we go?’ she asked quietly.

‘Up out of the village, along the glen and then back round to the coast road and home—about four miles. Is that OK?’

She nodded. Three miles was her usual run, but she hadn’t done it recently because of all the confusion and packing up and—well, she just hadn’t. Still, she could. ‘I’ll follow you,’ she said, and it was the last thing she managed for some time.

He set a punishing pace, and she fell into step behind him with a feeling of dread. Was he doing it on purpose? Probably. She gritted her teeth and tucked her head down, keeping just his heels in sight. It served two purposes. One, it stopped her having to see the length of the hill they were climbing—and two, she was less aware of the powerful legs with their liberal dusting of black hair pounding like pistons ahead of her. She spared him a glance, and shook her head slightly at what she saw.

Everything about him, from the immensely powerful shoulders, through the long arms and down the powerful column of his back to the taut buttocks and massive thighs that bunched with every stride—everything shrieked MAN. Jamie didn’t need that kind of distraction if she was going to have to fight with him about her job. The last thing she needed in a battle of the sexes was to be physically aware of him, or him of her, come to that. Thank God she was covered up—although as the run progressed and she heated up she wondered how long it would be before she wanted to tear off her top and let the air filter through her thin cotton T-shirt.

Too bad, she decided. Her bra was only so good, and although she was slim, she was also quite definitely a woman, and running was not calculated to make that go unnoticed. She kept the top on.

She was so busy in her thoughts that she didn’t realise they had reached the top of the hill, or that Rob was waiting for her. Consequently she cannoned into him, driving her breath out with a little ‘Ooof!’ and bringing a blush to her already warm cheeks. He steadied her with his hands, and she felt the shock all the way down to her toes.

‘You look hot,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘Why don’t you take off the top?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t want to have to carry it.’

‘I’ll carry it.’ He held out his hand, and she hesitated only a second.

Modesty be damned, she thought as she wrenched the suffocating top off. ‘I thought it would be cooler,’ she said lamely.

He knotted the sleeves around his trim waist and frowned at her. ‘Am I going too fast for you? You look a bit out of condition.’

‘It’s a few weeks since I went for a run,’ she confessed. More like a few months, she corrected herself, and made a conscious effort to slow her breathing.

‘All downhill now,’ he said with a grin. ‘Hell on the knees, but easy on the chest. Ready?’

She nodded weakly, and he set off, his long legs loping steadily down the slight incline. She kept up with him, but his stride was much longer than hers, and it wasn’t easy. Once she stumbled, and his hand shot out like lightning and grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.

‘OK?’

‘Yes—fine—just—thank you.’

She looked up and met his eyes, and a new respect dawned in them.

‘I’ll shorten my stride,’ he suggested, the ghost of a smile playing around his eyes, and she stifled the retort. Playing games with her, was he?

‘Don’t bother,’ she said, and led the way, her pace too fast but her pride flying high.

He caught up with her, shot her a grin and moved in front, deliberately racing ahead.

‘Show-off,’ she yelled after him, and dropped back to a more sensible speed. Her legs felt like jelly, and she wondered how much further it was. Rob was out of sight now, the bend ahead hiding him from view.

As she rounded the corner, he thrust himself away from the rock he was resting against and jogged up beside her.

‘Nearly there,’ he said with a smile, and she nodded briefly and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

They dropped down the last section of hill to the coast road, and then turned left, back towards the village. This stretch of road was by now familiar to Jamie, and she knew it could only be a mile or so at the most, but it seemed to stretch on forever.

Just when she felt she really couldn’t go on any longer, Rob tugged her to a halt at his side. ‘Let’s walk,’ he suggested. The view is breathtaking, isn’t it? It never fails to move me.’

They fell into step, his long legs slowing to accommodate her shorter stride, and as they walked, he pointed things out to her.

‘Salmon farm,’ he said, and she squinted into the rising sun.

‘Where?’

He moved round behind her, stretched out his arm and pointed. ‘Look along my arm,’ he instructed, and she rested her cheek against his forearm and looked.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, distracted. His skin was cool and damp, covered with a fine sheen of moisture, and his body, so close behind her, smelt of soap and healthy exercise and a strange, heady fragrance that called to some long-buried primitive part of her.

She moved away.

‘Rob, about what you overheard last night——’

He stiffened. ‘Forget it.’

‘I can’t,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t want you to think I was prying.’

‘Weren’t you?’

‘No! At least, not intentionally. My father always said I leap in where angels fear to tread, but last night it didn’t occur to me that there was anything to pry into. Obviously Chloe has or has had a mother, and a child of that age isn’t usually brought up by the father on his own. It wasn’t an unreasonable mistake to make.’

He was silent for a while, and then sighed, running his big hands through his hair. She thought he looked resigned.

‘I’m sorry, I tend to over-react.’

Tell me about her,’ Jamie prompted gently.

He gave a brief snort. ‘I thought Mrs Harrison already did that.’

‘No.’ Jamie stopped him with a hand on his arm and turned him to face her. ‘She only told me she was away and wasn’t coming back. Nothing else.’

‘What else is there?’ he said bleakly.

‘There’s why.’

He shot her a black look. ‘Your father was right. You’re an interfering baggage.’

She took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Mrs ? told me not to let you frighten me. I get the impression you’re just a pussycat.’

He gave a wry snort of laughter, and then met her eyes candidly.

‘You want to know about Jennifer? She hated it in the Highlands. We met in Edinburgh, where I trained, and when I did my GP trainee year I came out here to this practice. It was wonderful, so clean and straightforward, somehow, after the city—but within a month Jennifer had left and gone back to Edinburgh. She said she wanted a divorce, and I was tied to the practice, so I begged her to wait until the year was over and let us try again.

‘She refused, and when the year was up they offered me a job here and I took it. As soon as the second year of our separation was up, she started divorce proceedings. I took some leave and went back to Edinburgh to try and talk her out of it. At first it seemed that we might have a chance, but, when she asked me if I would consider a city practice and I said no, the most I would consider was a small rural practice just outside a city, that was it. End of reconciliation.’

His face bleak, he continued, ‘Eleven months later she turned up with Chloe, eight weeks old, and said she didn’t want her. I was appalled. I had no way of looking after her, so I took a few days off, shopped for baby equipment and a housekeeper, and Mrs Harrison turned up, bless her heart. She’d lost her husband, her children had left the nest and she was finding things a bit tight and a lot lonely. She’s been a marvel, and without her I would have lost the only thing in the world I really care about.’

He turned away, but not before Jamie caught the bright sheen of tears in his eyes.

‘So now you know,’ he said a little unevenly. ‘As far as Chloe’s concerned, mothers don’t exist.’

‘And as far as you’re concerned, women don’t exist except in cities.’ Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. How could she fight such deep-rooted prejudice?

‘That’s right,’ he said tersely. ‘I have to get back. Do you know the way?’

She nodded, and he left her there, watching his powerful legs eating up the road as he sprinted back home. She followed slowly, her heart heavy.

How could she make him understand? The peace and tranquillity of the quiet little Scottish backwater were just what her spirit needed after the last harrowing year. Perhaps he would give her a trial? Yes, that was it, she’d persuade him to allow her to help, make herself indispensable and then he’d have no option …

She shook her head. It wouldn’t work. He wasn’t a man who allowed circumstances to dictate to him. As she let herself in the front door, she was almost resigned to putting her overnight bag back in the car and driving back to—where? Her parents’ house was sold, her half-brother and his wife didn’t want or need her—she had nowhere to go. No home, no job, friends who were too busy chasing the ladder of success to bother with a restless young woman who couldn’t settle down. No good telling them that her soul was starved. They would only laugh.

Rob was standing in the hall with Chloe in his arms, talking on the phone as she walked in. He looked worried, and as she went up the stairs she heard him say he’d be there in fifteen minutes.

He put Chloe in the kitchen with Mrs H and bounded past Jamie on the stairs, going up three at a time. He ran into his bedroom, stripping off his vest as he went, and seconds later she heard drawers slamming.

She tapped on the open bedroom door, and he glanced up, clad only in a pair of skimpy briefs. She dragged her eyes from his body, aware that this was not the time to be distracted.

‘Can I help?’ she offered quietly.

He looked at her as if she were an answer to his prayers, and nodded.

‘School bus overturned on the main road. Have you got a medical bag in your car?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Throw something on and bring it. I’ll get some syringes and some diamorphine from the dispensary, and we’ll need giving sets and some saline——’

She didn’t wait to hear the familiar list.

They met in the hall a few seconds later. He stuck his head round the kitchen door, rattled off instructions to Mrs H and joined her at the Land Rover.

‘Got the bag?’

She nodded.

‘Come on, then.’

He drove at breakneck speed, and when they arrived she could see why. It was a scene of absolute mayhem. Terrified children clustered round each other some yards from the bus, which lay on its side at the edge of the road. As they approached, the policeman who had been first on the scene greeted them with relief.

‘Most of the kids are fine—cuts and bruises, the odd fracture—one arm, a couple of fingers. A WPC is giving them some first aid and a bit of TLC. Two children still trapped inside—both still alive, but one has head injuries and probably leg injuries, and the other has abdominal injuries from the crushed seat in front of her.’

‘Have their parents been informed?’ Rob asked tersely.

‘Doing it now. The two in the bus are apparently Stephen Watson and Trudy Douglas——’

‘Trudy?’ Rob’s face lost its colour and he closed his eyes. ‘Come on, Jamie. You come with me into the bus and we’ll see if we can get them out.’

They made their way in through the smashed windscreen, past the rows of broken seats to the two children trapped near the back. There was a policewoman crouched beside them, murmuring reassuringly to Trudy. Rob, hunched up in the cramped roof of the bus, reached Trudy first.

‘Hello, Trudy, love,’ he said gently. ‘We’ll soon have you out of here. Tell me where you hurt, hen.’

She lifted wide, terrified eyes at him and gave him a trembly little smile. ‘Hello, Dr Rob,’ she whispered. ‘I think my effluent’s oozed out; I’m all wet,’ she told him.

‘Is it just the tummy?’ he asked, and she nodded.

He quickly assessed the extent of the damage, and then turned to Jamie. ‘I’m going to have to get her out to deal with her. I think I may be able to shift the seat if you can steady her—think you can manage it? It’s a bit awkward.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she told him. ‘This little boy’s unconscious, but his vital signs seem fairly strong. He’s trapped by the legs. I think most of the blood’s from a scalp wound.’

Rob nodded. ‘We’ll get Trudy out first before we try and move him.’

He got a line into her arm, ran in some saline and gave her a small shot of pethidine, examining the seat while it took effect. Then he positioned Jamie under Trudy so she wouldn’t fall when the seat was moved, and braced his legs against the roof and the seat behind.

‘Ready?’ he murmured, and winked at Trudy. Then he bunched his muscles and heaved, and the seat creaked up and eased steadily away. She slithered on to Jamie’s lap with a little cry, and Jamie’s arms wrapped instinctively around the brave little girl.

‘All right, sweetheart, soon have you out and comfy,’ she crooned reassuringly, as Rob gave the seat one last wrench and cleared the way. Then he stooped and lifted Trudy from her lap, and bore her tenderly out of the bus to lie on the grass outside.

It was immediately obvious that it was more than her dialysate that had leaked. Her school uniform was soaked with blood, and Rob looked desperately worried.

She met his eyes over Trudy’s body, and could have wept for them both. So much for not getting involved with one’s patients, she thought with a wry little smile.

‘Where the hell is the ambulance?’ he muttered. Just then they heard the siren blaring in the distance, and in seconds it came into view, slewing off at the side of the road. Immediately the crew leapt out and ran over.

‘Internal injuries,’ Rob said briskly. ‘It isn’t helped by the fact that she’s on CAPD.’

The ambulanceman bent over Trudy and touched the tip of her nose. ‘We know you, don’t we, pet? Old friends, aren’t we, Trudy? Coming for a ride?’

Jamie left the three of them and took the other ambulanceman to the bus. He produced some cutters which made short work of the seat and they soon had the little boy free. His legs were both broken below the knee, but he moaned as they moved him, a good sign that his unconsciousness wasn’t too deep. Jamie got in a line and cleaned up the head wound while the ambulanceman splinted both the boy’s legs and fetched a stretcher. Soon both the children were loaded into the ambulance and were away, leaving Rob and Jamie to deal with the walking wounded.

By the time the last of the children had been either sent to hospital or collected by their parents, it was ten o’clock and Rob was showing the effects of the night on call.

They drove back in silence, both preoccupied with their thoughts, and when they arrived at the house Rob led her round to the back door and up the back stairs to the landing.

The hall will be full of patients, and neither of us is exactly inspiring to look at,’ he said ruefully.

Jamie had to agree. If she looked half as bad as him …!

‘Rob, let me help you with your surgery,’ she said urgently. Those people have had a long wait already and they have work to get on with.’

He studied her in silence for a time, and then gave a weary nod. Thank you. I’ll accept—for them. See you downstairs in five minutes.’

Well, she thought, progress!

She showered rapidly, washing her hair and tying it back to dry while she tugged on a skirt and jumper and slid her feet into sandals. She went down the back way and met Mrs H in the kitchen.

‘Congratulations!’ the housekeeper whispered. ‘I knew you’d be good for him. He says you’re to use the little surgery next to the office. The notes are on the desk. Away and get started, and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee in a minute.’

Jamie crossed the hall, smiling at the assembled patients who looked back curiously.

‘Good morning!’ she said brightly, and they mumbled a ragged response. She smiled grimly to herself. They weren’t giving anything away to a stranger! The surgery was small but clean and neat—lacking Rob’s chaotic influence, she thought, and also his warmth. She would have to get some posters up to brighten it.

She picked up the first set of notes, walked to the door and stuck her head round. ‘Mrs Ferguson? Could you come in, please?’

Mrs H brought her a cup of coffee between her third and fourth patients, and she gulped it down gratefully before carrying on. After about an hour, she found that the pile of notes had moved from one side of her desk to another, and with a sigh and a stretch she walked to the door and looked out into the empty hall. Rob’s door was open, and she could hear him on the phone.

It went down with a crash, and he swore softly. She tapped on the door.

‘Come in!’ he barked.

She did, quirking an eyebrow at him, and he sighed and grinned ruefully.

‘What do you want first—the good news or the bad news?’

She answered his smile.

‘Good, of course.’

‘Trudy’s going to be fine. The blood was from her exit site, which must have got torn when the seat trapped her. She’s a bit sore, but nothing drastic. She is, of course, back on haemodialysis until the site settles down,’ he added heavily.

‘And the bad?’

‘Can’t get a locum for at least a fortnight.’

She tried to stifle the smile, but failed. ‘Why is that such bad news? You’ve got me.’

‘Huh!’ he snorted. ‘Now I have, but for how long? I have to get someone permanent and reliable before the winter sets in,’ he explained patiently, as if she were an idiot.

She leant over the desk and stabbed her finger into his rock-hard chest. ‘I am here, and I am permanent, and I am reliable.’

He took her hand in his, and the warmth shot up her arm, stunning her.

‘Jamie, be reasonable,’ he pleaded.

She snatched her hand away, partly because he was irritating her, and partly because she couldn’t concentrate for wondering when her arm was going to catch fire.

‘I’m being perfectly reasonable,’ she argued, spinning away from the desk and moving to the window. Chloe was outside, playing in the sandpit in a pair of bright pink dungarees and a clashing yellow T-shirt. She watched as the child made a sandcastle and then smashed it down with a delicious chuckle.

She was aware of Rob standing beside her, his face hard as he stared past her at his beloved daughter. She laid a hand on his arm, and felt again the warmth coursing through her veins.

‘Rob, not everyone is like your wife.’

‘Ex-wife,’ he corrected, and shifted his eyes to hers. ‘I’m sorry, Jamie, my mind’s made up. I have no choice but to accept your help for a while, but you may as well start looking for another job somewhere more suitable.’

‘Damn you, you insufferable, chauvinistic, pig-headed fool! I don’t want another job! I want this one, and I’m damn well going to have it!’

She turned on her heel and cannoned into Mrs H, who was standing in the doorway with an approving smile on her face.

With a muttered apology she squeezed past her and fled upstairs, slamming her bedroom door and counting to ten to try and get a handle on her rage.

A few minutes later there came a tap at the door.

‘Who is it?’

‘An insufferable, chauvinistic, pig-headed fool. May I come in?’

Lord, she thought, did I really call him all that?

‘Yes, come in.’ She got off the bed and turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry about the adjectives——’

‘Don’t be.’ He gave her a lop-sided grin. ‘I expect I deserve them all, and more besides. I have a proposition for you. Suppose you stay for the full two months of the trial period?’

‘And will you give me a fair run? Put your preconceived notions on hold and give me a chance to prove myself?’

He grinned. ‘Yes—as if you’d give me a choice!’

She sat down on the bed with a plonk, her mind whirling. Two months took them up to the end of October. The weather was starting to break up then, and hopefully he wouldn’t be able to do anything about another partner until the spring—by which time …

I accept,’ she said quickly.

He gave her a wry grin. ‘I rather thought you might. It only took Jennifer half that time to find out she hated it. It should be long enough to convince you.’

‘Or you,’ she said challengingly.

‘Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?’

She grinned. ‘Oh, yes—every bit as stubborn as you, and then some, probably.’

‘I doubt it,’ he said with a laugh.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t be too sure.’

The challenge hung in the air between them.

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