EXTRACT FROM THE ITALIAN DOCTOR'S WIFE

Still wearing the grubby coveralls and BASICS jacket she had donned to work at the crash site, Hannah Frost climbed out of her car and looked around for the owner of the motorbike. Although a helmet was propped on the seat and a bag rested on the ground, no one was in sight. Sighing, she went round to the boot and took out her medical case. Feeling tired and dishevelled after hours of crawling around the twisted wreckage of the car, she walked towards the house. As she fumbled for her key, she heard footsteps in the gravel behind her. Heart sinking, she turned round, hoping there was not some other emergency requiring her attention.

Her eyes widened as she saw a man approaching. His gait loose-limbed, he exuded an easy confidence and self-assurance. She felt distinctly on edge. As he came closer, she could see he was incredibly good looking in a rugged and dangerous kind of way, his raven-black hair short but thick, his dark eyes watchful as his disturbing gaze raked over her. Tense, Hannah instinctively stepped back towards the door, tamping down a rush of deep-seated anxiety.

Her breath lodging in her throat, Hannah faced the dark stranger. An inch or so under six feet, he cut an imposing figure, athletically built and wearing faded, figure-hugging jeans and a battered, dark brown leather jacket. His face was classically sculpted with the merest hint of a cleft in his determined chin. Smouldering dark eyes watched her intently.

What do you want?’ she challenged, the uncharacteristic snap in her voice evidence of the reawakening of her inner fears at this unexpected and unwanted confrontation.

His sensuous mouth curved at her feisty reaction. ‘Dr Frost?’

Hannah faced him warily, flicking back strands of wayward chestnut hair which had escaped her hurried braid. ‘You need medical attention?’ she queried doubtfully, seldom having seen anyone in ruder health.

‘No!’ He unleashed a killer smile, his voice huskily accented as he continued. ‘It is good to meet you at last, Hannah. I am Dr Nicola di Angelis.’

*

Dear God, no! Hannah stared at him in horrified disbelief, uncharacteristic panic forming a heavy knot in her stomach. ‘But you can’t be.’

‘There is a problem?’

‘You’re supposed to be a woman.’

He raised one dark eyebrow, quizzical amusement glittering in his eyes at her accusatory tone. ‘I can assure you, Hannah, I am very much a man.’

‘Look,’ she began, flustered by the huskiness of his accented voice, disturbed by his presence and his blatant masculinity, ‘there’s obviously been some mistake.’

‘It is necessary to discuss this in the driveway?’

Hannah didn’t want to discuss it at all. She just wanted him to get on his bike and go back where he had come from. How could she have been so stupid? Had Kirsty deliberately allowed her to believe their new locum was a woman? The practice manager had spoken to him, for goodness sake, and still hadn’t corrected her when she referred to Nicola as 'she'. But what could she have done if she had realised? She pressed her hand to her temple. She had just never considered this possibility. The fact that he was so … so male made it worse.

‘I do not understand. Why is this such a difficulty?’ he probed, clearly perplexed by her reaction, his words mirroring her own thoughts. ‘You desperately need a doctor, do you not?’

‘Yes, but - ’

‘But?’

‘Nicola is a girl’s name,’ Hannah rallied, her insides churning at the disaster unfolding before her. ‘You must have realised I would think that.’

Good humour undaunted by her coldness, he smiled. ‘In Italy this is not so. And it never occurred to me that gender was an issue. You gave no indication of only requiring a woman doctor and Kirsty made no such comment when I telephoned and we discussed me working here. But please, Hannah, call me Nic if it makes you feel better.’

It didn’t make her feel better at all. Not one jot. Dear God, she needed to think, but he was right, this wasn’t the place. How could she go on with this as if nothing had happened? How could she cope with him living in her house? It just wouldn’t work. And just wait until she saw Kirsty!

‘A doctor is wanted. I am here. Please, can we carry on now we have this misunderstanding out of the way? I have rushed to get here, knowing you needed me. I am tired and I have had a long journey. We can go inside, yes?’

‘Yes. No. I mean … ’

Why did he have to be so reasonable, so right? Why did she have to start behaving like some flustered teenager rather than the mature and controlled adult she was? This muddle would be sorted out, but for now there was little to do but invite him in. A shiver of alarm ran through her. Calm down, she told herself. Nothing is going to happen. Unable to meet his gaze, she turned back to fumble with the key, her fingers trembling as she tried to insert it in the lock.

*

Nic collected his helmet and bag before following as Hannah stalked briskly inside the impressive, stone-built house, tension and distress evident in her bearing. Whatever was wrong? OK, there had been an amusing mistake over his gender, but so what? Given the dire need she claimed the practice was in, what difference did it make if he was male or female? He did not understand, but clearly it mattered to his new employer. Frost by name, frosty by nature? That was his first impression on meeting her. But her emails had been warm, open … when she had thought he was a woman. Frowning, he wondered why Kirsty had kept the information to herself.

He watched as Hannah left her medical bag on a chair in the wide, slate-floored hallway and tossed her protective jacket on top. It was a beautiful house from the little he had seen, but it felt … what? Lonely, empty? A bit like Hannah, he decided, noting the way she held herself, remote and guarded. She gestured him to follow her to the kitchen and, as she set about thoroughly washing her hands and gathering things to make coffee, he stood back and observed her.

Dr Hannah Frost was younger than he had expected, around his own age, he estimated, and she was a very attractive woman in an understated way. Three or four inches shorter than himself, she moved with supple grace, and even in her coveralls he could tell her body was pleasingly curvy. A riot of long, chestnut tresses were barely restrained and tendrils had escaped a loose plait to frame an interesting and intelligent face. Her skin was creamy smooth, free of make up, and an intriguing line of pale freckles trailed across her cheekbones and over the bridge of her nose.

It was her eyes, however, that had arrested his attention from the first. An unusual, intense green, they had a smattering of golden flecks that sparkled with her mood. And they spoke volumes, reflecting every passing emotion. In the space of their brief acquaintance she had been worried, annoyed, confused, shocked and, unless he was very much mistaken, frightened. It was the latter that troubled him the most.

At the moment she also looked dishevelled and he judged from her rumpled outfit and smudges of dirt that she had been out on a difficult call. ‘Bad night?’

‘You could say that.’ Her tone brisk and to the point, she filled him in on the car accident she had attended. ‘Whether the young man will pull through remains to be seen.’

‘Let us hope so. You must be tired.’

She shrugged, keeping her gaze averted. ‘I’m certainly grubby. I must go and change. Please help yourself to coffee when it’s ready and something to eat.’

Nic watched her leave the room, her back ramrod straight. He didn’t understand her at all. Friendly in her emails, obviously in need of help in the practice, but now he had arrived she appeared cold and unwelcoming. Something didn’t fit. A frown of consideration on his face, he examined the contents of the fridge and set about preparing breakfast.

When she returned to the kitchen half an hour later, he was unsurprised by her altered appearance. Clearly she had needed fortifying. The hair was tamed and scraped back in a severe knot. It was a shame. He looked forward to seeing it in all its glory. Disturbed at the sudden tightening in his gut, he ruthlessly banished the wayward and unwanted thoughts, the stab of desire he had not felt for two long years since … Again, he tamped down painful, dangerous thoughts and continued his assessment.

Hannah obviously thought this image made her more unapproachable while in reality it highlighted the perfection of her bone structure and the beauty of her face, the small, straight nose, the curve of pleasingly full lips, the classic jaw line. She was dressed in a smart but demure navy trouser suit, one which was well cut but neutralised her shape. He had the feeling it was a costume, her work persona, something she wore for protection, to maintain a front.

‘Sit.’ He smiled. ‘You are hungry, no?’

It looked as if she wanted to say something, to argue, but he turned away to dish up the food and, after a moment, he heard a chair scrape on the slate floor as she sat at the table. Her wary green gaze skittered from his as he crossed the room and set a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes in front of her.

You did this?’

Her surprise amused him. ‘I am quite domesticated.’ He smiled, pouring two mugs of coffee. ‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk. Thank you.’ He watched a frown crease the smoothness of her brow when she realised there was only one plate. ‘Aren’t you eating?’

‘I had breakfast on the way.’

When she began her meal, Nic drew out a chair across from her, sensing she would be more comfortable if he did not sit too close.

‘I had expected you to let us know your travel plans.’

The cool, accusing tone was back in her voice. ‘I came straight from France. It seemed easier than going back to Italy and starting again. I made better time than I anticipated.’

‘And your things?’

‘I’ve organised for them to be sent on. My medical kit and essentials always travel with me. Including my papers,’ he added, pushing them across the table for her to examine and confirm his identity.

He leaned back in the chair, his cup of coffee cradled in his hands, as he watched her sift through the documents, smiling when, with a small sigh, clearly unable to find anything wrong, she pushed them back to him. ‘Thanks.’

‘So how long have you been managing alone here?’

‘Nearly three weeks.’

‘It’s a lot to take on for one person,’ he allowed, noting the dark circles under her eyes. ‘You are exhausted, no?’

She glanced towards him warily, failing to meet his gaze. ‘I was more worried for my staff and patients, but it has been a difficult few weeks. It’s not always like this. We were badly let down by someone, hence the urgent search for a new locum.’

‘Not easy to find.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Then it is silly to worry whether I am male or female, no? You need help. I am here to do a job.’

‘But - ’

‘You have a queue of other people waiting to fill the position?’

‘No. No, I don’t.’

Nic watched as she briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again he caught her gaze and held it, seeing resignation and annoyance in those expressive green eyes, but a latent fear still lurked within their depths puzzling him anew. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what … not yet. But before his time here was over he intended to find out what demons haunted this woman and what lay beneath her frosty exterior.

*

Hannah finished her food in silence, unwilling to admit she had been touched by his thoughtfulness preparing her a meal. She felt worn out - physically exhausted from working such long hours and mentally worn down by Nic’s arguments. The hell of it was, he was right. He would have to stay. But the thought of sharing her house with him brought an ache of doubt and alarm to her stomach.

There was no way out. She could hardly ask him to make other living arrangements. Accommodation in the main house was part of the deal. Everyone knew it was how things had always been done, ever since her father’s day, and both the staff and the community would find her over-reaction to Nic’s identity inexplicable. Given she had no intention of explaining to anyone, she would have to cope with the situation. Somehow. Either that or draw unwelcome attention to her own anxiety. And that was out of the question.

It had never been a problem before. In fact, she had enjoyed the extra company, but most of the visiting locums had been female, or married with spouses. It was true there had been a couple of single men early on but they had not been attracted to her, or she to them, and she had seen little of them.

She reined her thoughts in with a jerk. Where had that come from? What had attraction to do with anything? Of course she wasn’t attracted to Nic. She had no intention of being attracted to anyone. Not now, not ever. And why would he be attracted to her? He barely knew her and probably had a string of girlfriends at home or left behind at his various ports of call over the last couple of years. She had been anything but welcoming and friendly so far, so all she had to do was maintain a distance, keep up her guard, and she could see this through.

‘Thank you for breakfast,’ she allowed with cool politeness. ‘Perhaps I should show you to your room - if you plan to stay.’

‘Oh, I’m definitely staying, cara.’

*

He accepted the coffee she handed him and smiled as he gently chinked their mugs together. 'Here's to our new partnership.'

Varied emotions chased each other across those expressive eyes. Doubt, annoyance, resignation ... but always that underlying shadow of fear that troubled him.

'Drink up,' he instructed, keeping his tone light and teasing. 'It looks as if you are stuck with me, Hannah!'

'So it would seem – for now,' she allowed, her voice cool, her reluctance and disapproval evident. 'Welcome to Lochanrig, Dr di Angelis.'

A slow smile curved his mouth. 'Thank you, Dr Frost. I'm sure my stay here with you is going to be a very interesting one indeed. For both of us.'

The Italian Doctor's Bride
Margaret McDonagh
Mills & Boon Medical Romance
UK Paperback – October 2006
ISBN: 0263847632
Copyright © 2006
Margaret McDonagh
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.
Cover copyright © 2006 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For more romance information surf to: http://www.eHarlequin.com

Artwork by Jim Wylie