The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal (3 page)

Francesca realised with despair that she was even more attracted to Luke now than when she had been a shy, awkward teenager. A shiver of remembered embarrassment ran through her as she recalled the day the bullies had shoved her at him in the playground, daring her to kiss him. She would never forget Luke’s kindness, his understanding. Or the unexpected, wildly exciting passion as he had given her her first ever kiss, a kiss she had never forgotten to this day. A kiss by which she had judged every one she had received since…finding them all lacking.

Her gaze slid from the green fire in Luke’s eyes to the sultry curve of his lips. How would they feel now? What would the kiss of the man be like compared to the kiss of the boy? She smothered a gasp of shock as the very thought caused her breasts to swell with arousal. Her nipples peaked as she imagined the heat of his mouth on her flesh, his hands touching her all over, and a coil of fire tightened her womb and pooled between her legs. Dear heaven! This was
crazy.

Shocked by her thoughts and her body’s instinctive, betraying reaction, she allowed Luke to open the door for her and she stepped ahead of him into the canteen, both regretful and thankful when the disturbing touch of his hand dropped from her back. After selecting their food—a tuna salad for her and lasagne for him—they headed to a free table. Francesca was aware of the curious glances from fellow staff members and could imagine some of what they were thinking, seeing her with a man like Luke. She knew what they called her, and why, but, then, she had spent her whole life having people talk
behind her back and call her names. Except Luke. For all their differences, the opposing reasons why it was so, they had shared that understanding, that empathy. Of being the outsider, alone, unwanted.

‘Am I imagining it or are people staring at us?’ Luke asked, the relaxed ease with which he sat down in contrast with the tight edge to his voice.

‘No. People are probably shocked to see me here with you.’

Luke’s expression hardened. ‘Because I’m a Devlin?’

‘Of course not,’ she corrected him, displaying a hint of the inner steel it had been necessary for her to develop long ago to survive. ‘I doubt they would even know, Luke, much less care. It’s not you, it’s me.’

‘Why would that be?’

Francesca found herself captured by the expression in his magnetic green eyes—protective, sultry, intense. As if he was interested in her and what she had to say. As if she mattered. Clearing her throat of the sudden lump that seemed to have lodged there, and trying to clear her mind of her foolish fancies, she focused on her lunch as she answered his question.

‘I’m known as the Ice Maiden around here.’

She had strived for a self-mocking tone, one that would signify that she didn’t care a scrap what anyone said about her. That she hadn’t quite pulled it off was obvious from the tiny pulse along Luke’s tensed jawline and the narrowing of green eyes that flared with annoyance and the same kind of defensive gleam she remembered from their schooldays when he had been her self-appointed guardian.

‘Are you, now?’ He took a forkful of food, his gaze straying round the room, the challenge in them unmistakable to anyone who looked at him. ‘I doubt they’ll be calling you that much longer.’

It felt good to know that Luke’s instinctive reaction was still
to take her side without question. But she was an adult now, used to fighting her own battles. Besides, he was just visiting, passing through. She couldn’t allow herself to get used to seeing him again, or to come to rely on him being her buffer against the difficult and hurtful things that sometimes happened.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop looking at him, searching out all that was familiar, learning all the changes maturity had brought to his far-too-handsome features. The dark blond hair was streaked by natural highlights and the sun. A couple of stray locks tumbled in reckless disarray across his forehead, adding to his rakish appeal. His face was masculine, strong, compelling, his nose straight, his cheeks lean, his clean-shaven jaw determined. She forced herself not to linger any longer on the temptation of his mouth, disturbed that she, who was always so cool and so uninterested in men, felt such a buzz of sexual awareness whenever she was near Luke.

The next moment she was looking into mesmerising green eyes, eyes that held a hint of mischief that stole her breath and a darkly sensual intent that shocked her and made her tingle all over. All manner of questions chased one another through her mind. Why was Luke in Strathlochan? What coincidence had brought them together in the hospital corridor at that moment in time? Where had he been these last ten years? What had he done with his life? Was he single? The last crashed her back to reality and fired a warning through her. It was no business of hers what he did and who he was with. Luke was a forbidden fantasy from her past. That was all. It would be wise for her to remember that rather than let her imagination, and this surprise meeting, run away with her.

‘How is your mother, Luke?’ she asked, seeking safer territory as they finished their meal. ‘I saw her recently when she came in after breaking her arm.’

‘I know, and I’ve been wanting to thank you. Ma told me how wonderful you were with her.’

His genuine gratitude, and his obvious care for his mother, warmed her. ‘I was pleased to help. Has she recovered now?’

‘She had the cast off two weeks ago and is fine. She came down to stay with me in London for a while but was glad to get back home.’ He pushed his empty plate aside and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, the action somehow making him feel much closer. Green eyes watched her intently. ‘It was thanks to Ma that I knew you were back in Strathlochan.’

‘I see.’

Francesca didn’t see at all. The remains of her lunch forgotten, she struggled to draw air into lungs that suddenly seemed compressed, and her heart thudded beneath her ribs as she tried to make sense of Luke’s words. She wasn’t aware he had ever known she had left Strathlochan and she found it hard to believe he had thought of her at all these last ten years. Conscious that her hands were shaking, she hid them under the table, clasping them in her lap, not at all sure what was going on here. And why couldn’t she break the spell Luke seemed to hold over her? Despite being in a room crowded with people and filled with noisy chatter, being with Luke felt incredibly intimate, everyone and everything else fading to the background.

‘So, have you been in London since you left town?’ she asked, struggling for a nonchalance she was far from feeling.

‘Yeah. I worked the first weeks at a hotel which had the benefit of giving me a roof over my head and food in my belly.’ The quick smile was wry and did curious things to her insides. ‘I’d applied to several medical schools and was delighted to get the results I needed in my Advanced Highers to take up the place I really wanted.’

The import of his words sank in. ‘You’re a doctor. That’s great.’

‘You’re not surprised?’ he asked, his expression curiously blank.

‘Why would I be?’

This time the smile had a harder edge and no humour. ‘I’m a Devlin, remember? We never amount to much.’

‘Don’t say that, Luke.’ Her protest was swift, her anger rising that people who knew nothing about him could pass judgement, but also that he should ever believe the ignorant gossips. She managed to resist the urge to reach out to him, instead clenching the hand that had moved so instinctively into a fist on top of the table. ‘You were the brightest, cleverest person I knew, not to mention the most thoughtful. And you worked hard. You were never going to be like them, were always going to make something of your life.’

One eyebrow, several shades darker than his hair, rose questioningly. ‘You thought that?’

‘Of course.’

‘I wish I’d had the same belief!’ His teasing faded, the expression in his watchful green eyes sober once more. ‘You were always different, weren’t you, Chessie? And I don’t mean that,’ he interjected as she stiffened involuntarily, accurately judging her train of thought, knowing of her past when she had been growing up. He moved, one fingertip resting lightly on the back of her tensed hand. Even that simple touch scalded her skin. ‘I mean, in the way you saw me as a human being rather than an extension of a bad family,’ he clarified, his finger brushing softly back and forth, sending a tremor right through her. Green eyes turned darker with an emotion she couldn’t identify and his voice was serious and almost wistful when he spoke again. ‘I’ve never forgotten the faith and trust you always granted me, or the way you stood up for me.’

Francesca had no idea what to say. She wanted to remove her hand from his caress and her gaze from his, but her body refused to obey her. ‘Are you here to see your mother?’ she asked as, shaken, she struggled to gather her composure, keen to put away the emotional memories yet unable to resist the temptation to discover more about the man he was now.

‘That’s one benefit of it.’

The cryptic response roused her interest but also made her edgy and left her feeling there was more he had to tell her, something important she had yet to grasp. ‘One benefit of what?’ she whispered, all too conscious that she sounded less like the confident, independent woman she had become and more the breathless, tongue-tied teenager of old.

For the longest moment, the very air seemed to still as she waited for Luke’s answer. His hand enclosed hers, warm and strong yet exquisitely gentle as he linked their fingers together. Francesca thought she might go up in flames, not only from the contact but from the smouldering way he looked at her—as if no one else mattered, as if he saw her alone. Finally, he spoke.

‘Fate. Timing. Three vital things falling into place at once. One was Ma. One was the job…’

Again Luke paused, and a shiver rippled through her at the seductive, intimate expression in his magnetic green eyes. As the tension and the electric charge between them continued to grow, she forced herself to ask the question now drumming inside her.

‘What job?’

‘As specialist surgical registrar on Maurice Goodwin’s orthopaedic team.’

Francesca smothered a gasp of shock as Luke delivered the unexpected news. Her breath hitched and her heart rate kicked up with a mix of excitement and alarm as the full implications of what he had just said sank in. ‘Here…in Strathlochan?’ she
clarified, scarcely aware that her fingers had tightened around his in response, as if seeking reassurance or grounding herself in reality.

‘Here.’ His voice, low and husky, spread warmth right through her. ‘I’m home for good, Chessie.’

‘H
OW
did it go?’

The question greeted Luke the moment he stepped through the back doorway into his mother’s kitchen. ‘OK. Good.’ Two insufficient words to describe the events that had unfolded in the last few hours.

‘Did you see Francesca?’

‘Yes.’ Typical Ma, getting right to the heart of things. Luke smiled to himself, watching as she bustled around, switching on the kettle to make tea and taking a tray of her legendary, heavenly scented almond shortbread from the oven and tipping the slab out onto a rack. ‘We had a quick lunch in the hospital canteen.’

‘And?’ she persisted, turning to face him, eagerness and curiosity evident in green eyes that were a couple of shades duller than his own.

Luke pulled out a stool and sat at the breakfast bar, not at all sure how to put his thoughts and emotions into words. So he started with a simple fact. ‘Francesca’s even lovelier than you said.’

‘The promise was always there as a girl and she’s matured into a beautiful woman,’ his mother stated, cutting the cooling shortbread into slices.

‘That she has.’

His mother chuckled. ‘I thought you would notice! How did she take your news?’

‘There was no surprise that I’m a doctor—it seems that Francesca always believed in me,’ he confided, still moved by her faith in him. ‘Just like you.’

‘Even very young she had a fierce streak of loyalty towards you.’ She poured the tea, set a mug in front of him and then sat down, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her own drink. ‘What about the rest of it…you being back in Strathlochan and working at the hospital?’

‘That
did
surprise her.’

In fact, there had been a whole range of emotions in Francesca’s expressive grey eyes when she had learned of his return. The surprise had been obvious, followed by a flash of excitement, a wash of pleasure and then a hint of alarm that had alerted him to the task that lay ahead of him. Winning her completely in the way he wanted could not be taken for granted.

‘Does she know the reasons why you came back?’

‘Not all of them.’ He paused, succumbing to and helping himself to a piece of still-warm shortbread that melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with buttery sweetness and the subtle flavour of almonds. ‘Francesca needs time, Ma. We both do. It’s been ten years. We need to get to know each other again.’

His mother nodded her agreement. Luke knew she had been aware what Francesca had meant to him all those years ago and how he had felt, especially when she had left town so unexpectedly and he’d not been able to find her. Now she regarded him, her expression curious. ‘But you felt it? When you saw her again?’

Oh, yeah, he’d felt it! Luke shook his head, remembering his instant reaction to her, a reaction that had intensified the longer he had spent with her, listening to her, being close to
her. ‘It’s still there—for me. The question is whether Chessie can come to feel the same.’

‘There was always a special connection between you, not that either of you understood it then. You were too young. But I could see it, and I held out hope, sure that Francesca was the right girl for you,’ she admitted with a reminiscent smile. ‘Who knows what would have happened had events been different and you hadn’t been driven apart before your friendship had the opportunity to cement? It may have been too soon then, for both of you. Now you have a second chance.’ She laid a hand on his arm, her tone cautionary. ‘Take care, Luke. I know Francesca isn’t that shy sixteen-year-old any more but for all her feisty exterior and façade of self-confidence, I sense she has a lot of inner scars. Don’t forget her background.’

‘I won’t, Ma.’

Luke took the warning seriously. Having already recongised how spooked Francesca could become and how deeply her past was ingrained in her, he had no intention of rushing things. Their lunch together had passed all too quickly but even in the short time he had sat with her in the canteen, he had noted her discomfort when people had looked at them and she had been the centre of attention. He thought of the way she had told him of her nickname, the false bravado she had portrayed as she had pretended she didn’t care what her colleagues said. But he knew she did. It angered him that people judged her without knowing anything about her. He planned to change all that—as he planned a lot of things now he was back and had found her again—but he would have to be patient. Not a trait he was known for, but where Francesca was concerned, it was worth it.

Whilst he had wanted nothing more than to publicly stake his claim to Francesca, he had reluctantly released her hand as they had left their table and exited the canteen, not wanting
to make her the object of hospital gossip which would only unsettle her and set his own cause back. Having dropped the bombshell about his permanent return to Strathlochan, he had escorted a near-speechless Francesca back to the ground-floor radiology unit on the pretext of having a look around.

After his quick tour of the unit before the afternoon appointments had begun, he had been even more excited about his new job and the prospect of working with Francesca—of seeing her every day and edging back into her life. It had been a big risk, giving up everything to come here, and, whilst their reunion had gone well so far, he wasn’t stupid enough to think things were going to be easy.

He’d met some of the other radiology staff, being careful to respect Francesca’s feelings and keep things professional. And then, all too soon, it had been time to leave, but not before he had managed to extract her agreement to meet up with him after work. He couldn’t wait. All he could think about was Francesca. Seeing her again had rocked him. She was beautiful and smart. But he sensed her aloneness—recognised it because he shared it. They were two of kind. Always had been. Now he had the most crucial challenge of his life ahead of him…to convince Francesca they belonged together. To encourage her to let down her protective guard and instinctive resistance.

The time ticked slowly by and, despite enjoying his mother’s company, he just wanted to return to the hospital to meet Francesca at the end of her shift. What was she doing now? Had she found out yet about the talk he had enjoyed with her immediate superior, Dee Miller, and the request he had made? What was she thinking?

Luke looked at his watch, his impatience growing. Soon he would see Francesca again. He needed to spend more time with her, to find answers to the endless questions he had
about her life these last ten years and, importantly, to discover just how much her past affected her present thoughts and behaviour.

The first part of the plan that had been born eight weeks ago when he had discovered Francesca was back in Strathlochan had been achieved. He had re-established contact, confirmed his feelings and had persuaded Francesca to see him. The next step was to rekindle their friendship…a friendship he hoped would lead to much more.

Francesca glanced at the clock as she hung up the telephone, relieved to see there was only half an hour of her shift left to go. Time yet to deal with the unbooked patient Kim had just asked her to see, sent through from the A and E department for an ultrasound scan.

All her scheduled appointments had been completed and for once everything had run like clockwork with no problems, interruptions or delays. And yet the afternoon seemed to have dragged by. Even though she had been busy with a full list of patients requiring X-rays and ultrasound scans for a wide variety of injuries and illnesses, and had worked with her usual diligence and care, there had only been one thing on her mind.

One
person.

Luke.

A timid knock on the door had Francesca trying to banish the image of Luke’s sexy green eyes and sinful mouth from her mind. ‘Come in,’ she called, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand as a large woman with short blonde hair and scared blue eyes entered the room.

‘The clerk at Reception sent me straight through,’ she explained, her nervousness evident in the shakiness of her voice.

‘That’s fine.’ Francesca smiled, trying to set the woman at ease. ‘Please, do sit down.’

The woman took the chair opposite and handed over the file she was carrying. ‘The doctor in Casualty said to give you this.’

Glancing at the request form, Francesca noted that Mrs Bryson had been seen in A and E by junior doctor Gus Buchanan who was querying the possibility of gallstones. Hence the requirement for the scan. Also noted on the sheet was Mrs Bryson’s anxiety. Francesca went through the usual introductory process she used with every patient, greeting them and telling them her name and her role, confirming their identity and that the details had been entered properly on the computer notes. Next she asked them to outline the reason for their visit and found out their history and if they had ever had X-rays or scans in the past.

‘Have you had an ultrasound before?’ The woman shook her head, clearly alarmed at what was to happen, so Francesca was swift to reassure her. ‘It’s a quick and painless procedure—just the same as pregnant women have to check on their unborn babies. The scan uses sound waves to see inside the body and build up a picture of organs and structures. In your case Dr Buchanan wants to check to see if you have any stones in your gall bladder that could be causing your symptoms. Did he explain that to you?’

‘Y-yes,’ Mrs Bryson stammered.

‘OK.’ Rising to her feet, Francesca crossed to the examination table by the ultrasound machine and made it ready. ‘If you’d care to lie down for me…’

The woman hesitated. ‘Do I have to get undressed?’ she asked, betraying the source of her anxiety.

‘No, I just need access to your abdomen, so we can adjust the clothes you are wearing.’ Keeping businesslike but friendly, hoping to aid the stressed lady to relax, Francesca helped her to settle on the table. ‘If you could lie more on your left side…That’s perfect,’ she praised, helping adjust the
woman’s clothing to expose the area she needed on the right side and across her abdomen while retaining as much of her dignity as possible. ‘Now, I’m just going to put some gel on your skin. It’s cold, I’m afraid, but it’s necessary to get a good image.’

What she refrained from saying, so as not to upset Mrs Bryson any further, was that the larger the patient, the less sharp the image the scan could produce, given the layers the sound waves had to pass through. The woman was already self-conscious enough. ‘Next, I’m going to run the hand-held transducer over the area and we’ll see what we can find. You’ll feel a little pressure as I get the best connection possible. It shouldn’t cause you any discomfort, but tell me if you have any worries or there is anything you want to ask.’

With her patient declining the invitation to look at the screen, Francesca began the scan. Although the image was not the sharpest, it was obvious at once that Mrs Bryson
did
have gallstones. Several of them were apparent. She printed out copies of the images for the file, as well as saving the scan digitally for the doctors to review on screen, sending it through to A and E for Gus Buchanan. That done, she helped wipe the remains of the gel from Mrs Bryson’s skin, clearing up while the woman adjusted her clothes and climbed off the table.

‘Is that all there is to it?’

‘To the scan, yes.’ Francesca smiled sympathetically, hoping that the doctors could treat the stones without resorting to an operation, which she feared would scare the nervous woman even more. She jotted a few notes and handed the file back. ‘If you’d like to take this back to the A and E department, Dr Buchanan will explain the results and discuss them with you. Always speak up and ask any of us questions if there are things you don’t understand.’

‘Thank you. You’ve been so kind.’

‘My pleasure.’ Francesca opened the door and showed her out, ensuring she knew her way back to A and E. ‘Good luck, Mrs Bryson.’

Having finished her notes for the on-duty consultant radiologist who would review the day’s cases and write any reports needed for the referring departments or GPs, Francesca tidied the room, relieved that no more unexpected patients arrived. It was time to go home. Time to see Luke. A curl of heat percolated inside her. Aware, too, of a mix of excitement and confusion, she headed for the women’s locker room to change out of her uniform. Mindful of hygiene and the dangers of superbugs and cross-infection, one of several initiatives the hospital board had introduced was reinstating the policy of changing and laundering on site rather than allowing staff to wear uniforms to travel to and from work.

Only Dee Miller was in the room as Francesca entered. Her immediate superior, the head radiographer and technician was in her early fifties, short and plump, with warm hazel eyes and a dark brown bob. A lively, organised and caring woman, Dee had been working in the unit for many years. Well respected, she was responsible for the section Francesca worked in and for reporting to Derek Barwick, the chief consultant and clinical director of the radiology department.

‘Everything all right?’ Dee asked, already dressed in street clothes and in the process of putting her discarded uniform into the hospital laundry basket before returning to her locker, a few down from Francesca’s.

‘Fine, thanks.’ Detecting an odd note in Dee’s voice, she looked at her colleague and frowned. ‘Why? Have I done something wrong?’

‘Goodness, of course not!’ Dee reassured her with a sur
prised laugh. ‘You’re the best radiographer we have. No, I just thought you seemed distracted this afternoon.’

Francesca shook her head, unable to explain that she had been in shock since meeting up with Luke at lunch time. Instead, she hid behind her locker door on the pretence of rummaging inside for her things.

‘The new surgical registrar made quite an impression,’ Dee continued, a teasing note in her voice.

Feeling a blush warm her face, Francesca kept her head buried in her locker. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured noncommittally.

‘I gather you know each other.’

‘We went to the same school as children,’ Francesca allowed, downplaying the connection even though she feared Dee was not going to let the subject drop. ‘I’ve not seen Luke for ten years.’