The Italian's New-Year Marriage Wish (7 page)

‘I need to get up there right away. I need to call my husband so that we can go to the hospital.' Trying to hold herself together, Mary fumbled in her bag for her phone, her hands shaking so much she dropped the bag twice. ‘He's gone to help my brother take down a shed in his garden. It will take him ages to get back with the way the roads are.'

Marco stooped, picked up her bag and handed it to her. ‘I'll take you in the Maserati.' He looked at his watch. ‘I've got time to drive you and still be back in time for afternoon surgery. Tell your husband you'll meet him up there.'

Mary looked at him, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘You'd do that for me?' She bit her lip. ‘But there must be other more urgent things you should be doing.'

Marco looked directly at Amy and she knew what he was thinking.
That the thing he should be doing was giving her the conversation she'd demanded.

So it was up to her, then, to decide. He was giving her the choice. She could insist that he stay and finish the conversation they'd started or she could let him take this frantic mother to her children.

‘We can talk later,' she said quietly, slipping off his coat and handing it to him. ‘My train doesn't leave until four.'

With only the briefest hesitation Marco reached into his pocket and gave his car keys to Mary. ‘Go and sit in the car. I'll be with you in a minute.'

The woman walked across the car park and Amy gave a faint smile. ‘Trusting someone else with your precious Maserati, Marco?'

‘Only because I need to talk to you without an audience,' he growled, reaching out and removing a smudge of blood from
her cheek. ‘You're freezing and you need a shower. Go back to the surgery and ask Kate to sort you out with a change of clothes. Wait for me there. We'll talk later.'

‘I think our conversation is doomed. We're running out of time.'

‘Then stay overnight.'

She stared at him. ‘That's out of the question.'

‘I thought you wanted to talk? Stay the night, Amy, and then at least we're guaranteed peace and quiet. I'm not on call. You can come out to the house and we can eat, talk and then you can get the first train back tomorrow. I'll drop you at the station myself.'

‘That's not—no.' She had to say no. ‘I can't.'

‘Amy.' His voice was impatient and he glanced towards his car where Mary was now waiting in a state of anxiety. ‘We can't tie this up in a matter of minutes. We need time and we need privacy. You're the one who wants to do this. It makes sense. In fact, I can give you the house keys and you can go now and have a shower at home. That's a much better idea. Wait for me there. I'll be home by six and we can talk.'

She hadn't wanted to go to the house. It would just be too painful.

‘I don't—'

‘Stop arguing and looking for problems.' He dug in his pocket and pulled out his house keys. ‘In that car is a woman worrying herself to death about her children and in the hospital are two young children who need their mother. They need my help and you're holding me up.'

Amy swallowed and took the keys from his hand. ‘I'll see you later.'

 

Marco let himself into the house and walked through to the enormous sitting room that faced out to sea.

Amy was standing by the glass, staring out across the crashing waves. She was wearing the same soft wool trousers that
she'd been wearing all day but she'd removed the rest of her soaked clothes and helped herself to one of his jumpers. The fact that it swamped her just increased the air of vulnerability that surrounded her.

She didn't turn when he entered the room but he could tell from the sudden increase in tension in her narrow shoulders that she was aware of his presence. ‘The view is incredible.' Her voice was almost wistful. ‘It was this room that sold me the house.'

Vulnerable, maybe, but still capable of wreaking havoc.

Engulfed by a fresh spurt of anger, Marco dropped his coat over the back of the sofa. ‘It's a shame you didn't stay around long enough to live in it.'

She turned, pain in her eyes. ‘Don't do this, Marco. This doesn't have to be an argument. Just let it go.'

‘Like you did?' He watched her face, searching for some glimpse of the woman he'd married. ‘You just let our relationship slip through your fingers. You never once tried to solve whatever problem it was that you suddenly found. You just walked away.'

Anguish flickered across her face and for a moment she looked as though she was going to defend herself. Then her shoulders sagged and she turned back to look out of the window as if she'd lost the will to fight. ‘We wanted different things. You married me because you wanted to start a family and at first I thought I wanted that, too.' She broke off and sucked in a breath. ‘But I discovered that I didn't. That sort of difference is too big to bridge, Marco.'

He stared at her with mounting incredulity.

She made herself sound both flighty and indecisive and neither adjective fitted what he knew about her.
Nothing she said made sense.

‘So you had a sudden change of heart—why didn't you discuss it with me?'

‘There was nothing to discuss. You wanted one thing, I wanted another.'

Marco tried to make sense of her words. She was saying that she didn't want children and yet he'd seen her with children and had been captivated by how gentle and kind she was. Just now with Alfie, she'd been tactile and gentle. He'd seen how much she cared. In fact, he would have said that she was better with children than adults.

‘You love children. You couldn't wait to be a mother,' he said hoarsely. ‘That's why I married you.'

‘Yes.' This time when she turned to face him, her expression was blank. ‘I know that's why you married me. And that's why I knew that it would never work. I knew that there was no point in “trying again” or working at our marriage. There was no point in talking it through or having endless discussions that wouldn't have led anywhere. You married me because you wanted to settle down and have a family. You were perfectly clear about that. And I'm telling you right now that that isn't what I want. So ending our marriage is the fairest thing for both of us. You should be with a woman who wants children. That's very important to you and you can't ignore something like that.'

Marco inhaled sharply and laid himself bare. ‘For me, you were that woman, Amy. What was I to you?'
She wasn't good at communicating but he'd thought he'd known what she'd felt. He'd felt utterly secure in her love. Arrogance on his part? Maybe.

‘You were—' She broke off and her eyes slid from his. ‘You were a wonderful affair that never should have become anything more.'

If he hadn't been so exasperated and confused he would have laughed. ‘You're trying to tell me you wanted the sex and no commitment? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds, coming from you? You don't have affairs!'
It was one of the reasons he'd wanted to marry her.

‘How would you know? We were only together for three months before we married. That's not enough time to know someone. You never really knew me, Marco.' He'd
thought
he'd known her. ‘I know you're not the sort of woman to have a casual affair.'

‘Maybe I
am
that sort of woman in some circumstances! I'm not the first woman to find you irresistible, Marco. You're an incredibly sexy guy. Intelligent, good company…' She shrugged as if his attractions were so obvious it was pointless naming them. ‘I don't suppose there's a woman in the world who would reject you.'

He decided not to point out that
she
was rejecting him. ‘So now you're saying that I seduced you?'

‘Of course not. I'm just saying that…the physical side took over.'

‘Physical? You married me because I'm good in bed? What about the rest of our relationship?' Finding the entire conversation completely unfathomable and beginning to wonder whether his English was less fluent than he'd previously believed, Marco ran a hand over the back of his neck and held on to his temper with difficulty. ‘As I said before, we weren't teenagers, Amy. Yes, there was strong chemistry but our minds were working, too. We shared a great deal more than an incredible sex life.'

Colour bloomed in her cheeks and he remembered just how shy she'd been when they'd first met. ‘We were friends, yes. But we never should have been more than that.'

‘Was our relationship really that shallow? What about all those plans we made, or is my memory playing tricks? The way you're describing our life together…' he spread his hands in a gesture of raw frustration ‘…I'm beginning to think we're talking about a completely different relationship!'

‘Perhaps we just saw it differently.'

‘When we met you enjoyed your work, certainly, but your plans for the future were the same as mine. Family. We lay in
bed and talked about having children. We agreed that I would work and you would stay at home with them. You thought it was important for a child to be with its mother, to know it was loved. These weren't
my
plans,
tesoro
, they were
our
plans.'

‘To begin with, yes. But then I realised that it was never going to work.'

‘Answer me one question, Amy. Did you love me?'

She froze and her eyes slid from his. ‘No.' Her voice was so faint he could barely hear her. ‘Not enough.'

Her answer shocked him so much that for a moment he didn't answer.
She'd loved him.
He
knew
that she'd loved him.

Or had he been deluding himself?

She'd left, hadn't she? She hadn't tried to mend their marriage. The only contact she'd had with him had been in relation to their separation. Were those the actions of a woman in love? No.

Which left him guilty of arrogance.

Just because attracting women had never been a problem in his life, he'd grown complacent.

He watched her for a moment, trying to make sense of it all—
searching again for the Amy he'd married.
‘So when did you first realise that you didn't love me enough?' The words almost stuck in his throat. ‘Everything was fine until we moved back to Penhally. You seemed happy enough to begin with.' Scrolling through events in his mind, he watched her, still searching for clues. ‘When did you suddenly decide that you wanted career, not family? And why didn't you share your thoughts with me?'

She turned back to the window. ‘You were working, Marco—busy setting up the surgery with Nick. You were hardly ever home so it was hard to share anything with you. I was lonely. And I discovered that I missed working. I discovered that my own career was more important to me than I'd thought it was. Our relationship was so intense that for a short
time I was totally infatuated with you. Babies—a family—that was all part of the same infatuation. But good, stable marriages aren't based on physical passion.'

Marco frowned. ‘So when did you have this sudden change of heart? Not in the first few weeks, that's for sure. You spent your days going to estate agents because we both agreed we wanted a house out of town and preferably right on the cliffs. You dismissed three properties because they didn't have a garden. I still remember the day you rang me at work to tell me about this place. You were so excited! You'd even picked out the room that you thought should be the nursery. Where was the career woman then, Amy?
Where was she?
' He stared at her profile and saw the faint sheen of tears in her eyes.

The tears diluted his anger and he gave a soft curse and turned away from her, guilt tearing through him. ‘
Mi dispiace.
I'm sorry. Don't cry. Don't do that.' He hated it when women cried, although to be fair to her, she'd never done that to him before. He stared moodily down at the waves crashing onto the rocks, feeling as though his body and mind were under the same steady assault as the coastline. ‘If you truly don't love me enough then there is nothing to be done.' This was entirely new territory for him. In the past he'd been the one to tell a woman that a relationship was over—
that he didn't love her enough.

Only now was he discovering that it wasn't an easy thing to hear.

He glanced towards her and wondered why, if she didn't love him, she looked so utterly, utterly lost and miserable. ‘You've changed so much.'

‘Perhaps I have. Didn't you always say that women are some times difficult to understand? That we think in different ways?'

Marco gave a twisted smile, bitterly amused at his own arrogance. To think that he'd once thought that he under stood women. Amy had long since proved that not to be the case.
‘So, after two years of thinking in your very different way, you decided to turn up and ask for a divorce.'

‘We've been apart for two years.'

‘And that's some sort of magic figure? If you were expecting me to smile and sign, you picked the wrong man to marry and divorce.' His mouth tightened. ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned this before, but I don't believe in divorce.'

‘Surely that depends on the marriage. You don't want to be married to someone who doesn't love you. It's time to get on with our lives, Marco. I can pursue my career. You can find someone else. You can marry someone else who will give you a whole houseful of children.'

Was that what he wanted?

He'd only ever imagined this house full of his and Amy's children.
Did he want children with another woman?

T
HE
phone rang and Marco let out a stream of Italian, clearly incensed at being interrupted yet again. His eyes glittered dangerously and he glared at the phone as if his anger alone should be enough to silence it.

‘Answer it, Marco,' Amy said wearily. ‘It's probably someone else whose life needs saving.'

He was angry with her.
So angry with her.

And intellectually he was outmanoeuvring her at every step, pouncing on holes in her argument like the most ruthless trial lawyer. And there were plenty of holes. Her defence was thin and full of in consistencies, she knew that, but she hadn't expected to be on trial long enough for it to matter. She'd expected a quick conversation and a rapid exit. She hadn't expected him to argue with her.

She hadn't expected him to
care
enough to argue and she certainly hadn't expected him to ask if she'd loved him.

That had been the most difficult lie of all.

And what now? Was he going to let her go?

Was he going to find another woman to share his heart and have his children?

The thought of another woman living in this house, living with Marco, brought a lump to her throat.

She wasn't going to think about that right now.

Grateful for the brief respite offered by the phone, she
watched as he strode across the room and lifted the handset, his movements purposeful. He was a man who was focused and didn't waste time, hence the reason he was able to cope with such a punishing workload without crumbling under the pressure.

‘Nick? Problems?' He didn't even bother to disguise his impatience at the interruption and Amy winced slightly, wondering what the senior partner in the practice was thinking about her sudden unexpected return. Was he cursing her for distracting his partner when they were so busy?

It was obvious from the conversation that Nick was asking Marco about a patient and Marco sprawled into the nearest chair and gave the information that was needed.

He was never given any peace
, Amy thought to herself, listening as he and Nick debated different courses of action. But he never tried to hide from his responsibilities. From the moment he'd decided to set up the surgery in Penhally with Nick, he'd been dedicated to delivering the very best health care to the local population. He was that sort of man.

The sort of man who would be an amazing father.

Feeling slightly sick, Amy tried to subdue the misery that bubbled up inside her.
Not now.
She wasn't going to think about that now. She dare not. Marco was far too astute. She had to make it look as though this was what she wanted.

‘Amy?' The conversation concluded, he replaced the phone and looked at her. ‘Sorry for the interruption. Since Lucy left it's been crazy. The snow hasn't helped. No one is used to having snow in the village and everyone is slipping on pavements and injuring themselves.' He ran a hand over his face. ‘And it's New Year's Eve in a few days' time.'

Amy knew from experience that New Year's Eve was always busy for the local health team and being one doctor down would be a problem. ‘You haven't managed to find anyone to cover Lucy?'

‘We weren't exactly expecting her to deliver so early. We
didn't have time to arrange locum cover. Kate is still working on it.' He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. His dark lashes brushed the hard, strong lines of his cheekbones and Amy stared hungrily.

The early morning had always been her favourite time of day, when he had still been asleep and she'd been able to just study his face without having to worry about what she was revealing.

‘She told me this afternoon that she may have found someone, but he can't start for another month. Until then it's all hands on deck, except that the ship is sinking. I haven't even asked—how was surgery this morning?' He opened his eyes suddenly and she coloured, embarrassed that he'd caught her looking at him.

‘Surgery was interesting.'
Talking about work was good.
‘Along with the usual coughs, colds and sore throats, I saw my first ever case of erysipelas and a case of ophthalmic shingles.'

‘I suppose the erysipelas was one of the trawlermen; it usually is. Ophthalmic shingles?' He raised an eyebrow. ‘Who was that?'

‘A Mrs Duncan?'

‘Paula? She's a writer. Detective novels, I think. Lives in that white house on the cliffs. You're sure it was shingles?'

Astonished that he knew so much about his patients, Amy nodded. ‘Yes, she had all the symptoms and skin lesions on the side of her nose.'

‘Did you refer her to the hospital?'

‘Yes.'

‘Poor Paula. That's the last thing she needs over the Christmas holidays. Did you give her oral aciclovir? Eight hundred milligrams?'

Amy sighed. ‘Marco, if you're so worried about my skills, don't ask me to take your surgery.'

‘Sorry.' He gave a faint smile, the first smile that had
touched his mouth since she'd walked back into his life that morning. ‘I'm not used to delegating. And especially not to my wife.' He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes narrowed and his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked impossibly sexy and Amy's mouth dried and she turned away from him, her heart thudding hard against her chest.

‘Well—it was just the one surgery,' she muttered, feeling his gaze burning a hole between her shoulder blades.

‘So what are your plans once you finally catch that train? Are you returning to Africa or are they sending you somewhere else?'

‘I don't know. They've asked me to go to Pakistan.'

‘But you haven't accepted?'

‘Not yet.' She turned, wondering where the conversation was going. ‘I wanted to get things sorted out here first.'

Marco held her gaze. ‘So you're out of a job. You, who love work above everything else.' It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in his voice and Amy's tongue tied itself in a knot.

‘I'm not exactly out of work.' She tried to retrace her steps. ‘I'll go where I'm needed.'

‘Is that right? In that case I have a proposition for you. You stay in Penhally for a month. Work in the practice. You've probably noticed that we're struggling. Nick, Dragan and I can't keep it going on our own.'

Amy stared at him for a moment, wondering if she'd misheard. ‘That's out of the question.'

‘Why? You've just said that you'll go where you're needed. You're needed here, Amy.'

‘No.'

‘You keep telling me how important it is for you to work. We need another doctor in Penhally. Urgently. You're good at what you do and you're capable of just stepping in and getting on with things. You proved that this morning. If you hadn't been here, surgery would have ground to a halt.'

‘You don't want your ex-wife working in your practice.'

‘My
wife
.' He emphasised the word gently. ‘Actually, you're my
wife
, Amy, not my ex-wife. And why is that a problem? If you don't love me then there are no emotions involved, so working together should be easy. It's a good solution.'

Not for her.

Amy stood there in a blind panic, once again trapped by her own words. ‘That's a ridiculous suggestion. We can't work together.'

‘Why not?'

Because it would be too painful.
Because she wouldn't be able to hide her true feelings.
‘Marco, don't do this.'

‘Don't do what? Don't talk sense? We need a doctor, you need a job. You don't love me—fine, we work together as friends and colleagues and at the end of a month I give you that divorce you want. One month, working side by side as we've done today.'

So basically she had to allow herself to be tortured for a month in order to achieve something that she didn't really want anyway.

She almost laughed.

‘It would be too…awkward. Marco, how can you even suggest it?'

‘We are both mature, professional people. Why would it be awkward? The only possible reason for it to be awkward would be if you still felt something for me. Is that the case, Amy? Do you feel something?'

It was like being in court in front of a deceptively gentle prosecutor determined to dig up the truth. ‘I don't— That isn't what I mean.' She stumbled over the words. ‘I don't feel anything for you, Marco. I'm sorry if that's hurtful but it's better that I tell the truth.'

‘
Are
you telling the truth?' He was watching her closely, his gaze disturbingly intense. ‘There's something going on here, Amy. Something that isn't right.'

‘You're putting me in an impossible position, that's what isn't right! I can't stay, Marco.'

‘Why not?' There was a hard edge to his tone. ‘You've said that you never loved me and that our relationship was just a fling. Since when did a bit of hot sex need to get in the way of a sensible business arrangement? Work is all-important to you and I'm offering you work. If emotions aren't involved, there can't be a problem, can there?'

Her emotions
were
involved. But to admit that would be to admit that she was still in love with him and that would lead to complications that she couldn't handle.

Amy waded through her options and found them depressingly limited. It was obvious that if she refused he would take her refusal as an indication that she was in love with him and she just didn't want him knowing that.

Desperate now, she searched for another excuse—
anything
—that might help her extricate herself from the situation. ‘I only planned to come for the day. I don't have clothes or anything.'

‘All your clothes are still here. Upstairs in the wardrobe where you left them.' His tone was even. ‘In case you've forgotten, you didn't take much with you.'

She'd been too upset to even bother with packing.

Amy turned away and walked over the window, her mind racing. Unlike him, she wasn't thinking clearly.

She could walk away, but then she'd just have to come back and go through all this again another time. Or she could stay and work in Penhally and prove that their relationship was truly over.

All she had to do was keep up the act for a month and then he'd give her a divorce.

She stared out to sea, watching the waves rise and fall. It wasn't as if they'd see that much of each other, she reasoned. She'd already seen how much of his life was tied up with the
practice. They'd both be working. She wouldn't be spending a lot of time in his company.

How hard would it be?

 

‘You're joining us?' Nick Tremayne stared at Amy across the desk, a serious expression on his face. ‘You're going to work as a locum?'

‘Just until Dr Donnelly arrives. Kate has confirmed that he can start in a month.' Exhausted after a sleepless night in Marco's spare room, Amy summoned up a smile that she hoped reflected the correct amount of enthusiasm for the situation. ‘I took Marco's surgery for a while yesterday morning and I enjoyed it. I'm between jobs at the moment and you're stuck so it seemed a sensible solution.'
Did she sound convincing?

Probably not, given that she wasn't entirely convinced herself.

But Marco had pushed so relentlessly that she'd found herself trapped between all the lies she'd told.

Nick looked at her, his gaze just a little too probing for her liking. ‘I hate to point out the obvious…' he glanced towards Marco ‘…but you guys haven't seen each other for two years. Much as we need the help professionally, I can't risk the problems of your personal life invading practice business.'

‘We're very civilised,' Marco said easily. ‘Working together won't be a problem.'

Wouldn't it? Unconvinced, Amy glanced at him, trying to read his mind, but his face gave nothing away.
Was he really as relaxed about the whole thing as he seemed?

Perhaps Nick was asking himself the same question because he studied his friend and colleague for a moment before turning back to Amy. ‘Where are you going to live?'

Amy opened her mouth to reply but Marco was there first. ‘In the house, with me. Where else? I'm rattling around with five bedrooms.' His emphasis on the word ‘five' could have
been a linguistic slip or else a gentle reminder that they'd chosen the house with the intention of filling it with their children. ‘Amy missed her train so she stayed last night. We managed to get through the night without killing each other so I don't anticipate a problem.'

He was expecting her to live in the same house as him?
No! That hadn't been part of the original plan. She'd been banking on the fact that, apart from the odd bit of professional communication at work, she'd be able to avoid him. Yes, she'd stayed the previous night—shivering in the spare room like an interloper—but she'd assumed that she'd be finding herself alternative accommodation at some point. Already her eyes were gritty and her head ached as a result of a night in his spare bedroom. She'd spent the entire night awake, imagining Marco just next door, probably sprawled naked in the enormous bed that they'd chosen for the main bedroom, and now she discovered that she was going to be staying there every night.

Amy opened her mouth to argue and then caught Nick's searching look and instead smiled weakly. Thanks to Marco's confident announcement she now had no choice but to stay with him. ‘That's right,' she said hoarsely. ‘I'm staying with him. No problem.'

Nick shrugged. ‘Well, if you both think you can handle it. God knows, we need another doctor badly so I'm not likely to put up much of an argument. Welcome back, Amy, and welcome on board.' His tone was brisk. ‘Well, this is a good start to the New Year. I was starting to think we might have a nervous break down before we found anyone to cover Lucy's maternity leave.'