A Cotswold Christmas Bride. Joanna Neil
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and she’d tried, she’d done her best to get on top of it, feeling guilty for not pulling her weight in the relationship. In the end, as the illness had lingered, it had finished things off between them, and she was left wondering if perhaps she would never experience true love and marriage. There was something wrong with her, and maybe she couldn’t expect anyone to want her.
She looked up at Lucas. His expression was sombre, concerned, and she gave a ragged sigh. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this.’
‘I think perhaps you needed to get it off your chest. It sounds as though this has been building up inside you for a long time, until it became too much for you, and perhaps that’s why you fainted.’ He drew her hand into his, holding it between his palms as though to show her he cared.
It felt so natural, that small, intimate gesture. She’d never met him until this evening, but it was as though he knew exactly what she needed. He was offering her comfort and compassion … those things that had been sorely missing from her life of late. But instinct warned her that she shouldn’t read anything into it. She couldn’t place her trust in anyone. Not any more.
‘Perhaps I can help in some way,’ he said softly. ‘Even if you just need someone to talk to.’
She pulled in a quick breath. His offer filled her with temptation, but it wasn’t to be, was it? ‘Ah … there’s the rub … you and I aren’t likely to meet up again, are we? We’re just strangers passing through.’
‘It doesn’t have to be that way,’ he said. ‘I’d like to see you again, just to know how you’re getting along.’
He wasn’t suggesting that he felt anything more than friendly concern, but she was on her guard, all the same. She had been burned once, and she’d learned her lesson.
Besides, she had way too much on her plate right now for her to even think about getting involved with anyone.
She straightened up. ‘I’m all right now,’ she murmured. ‘I ought to get dressed. Where did you put my frock?’
He frowned. ‘Are you sure about that?’ he asked. ‘Perhaps you ought to rest a little longer.’
‘I need to put in an appearance downstairs,’ she said. ‘My friends will be wondering what’s happened to me.’
His gaze wandered over her, but he must have realised that she meant what she said, because he got to his feet and strode across the room. A moment later he came back with her dress, and handed it to her.
‘Thank you,’ she said. She took the dress from him and held it in front of her. ‘If you don’t mind …?’
‘Of course.’ He hesitated, reaching into his jacket pocket. ‘I’ll give you my number,’ he murmured. ‘That way, if you need me, you can give me a call.’
She glanced at the number he’d scrawled on the hotel stationery.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘But, as I said, I’ll be fine.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Goodbye, Lucas. Thanks for your help.’
He sighed, then turned away from her and walked towards the door. ‘I don’t like goodbyes,’ he said, halting momentarily to give her a fleeting glance before walking out into the corridor. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes, something that Sophie couldn’t interpret.
The door closed behind him, and she sat for a while staring at the place where he had stood just a moment ago.
She had done the right thing, letting him go, hadn’t she? He was interested in her, that was for sure, but she was in no state to get entangled with anyone else. Her life was a mess, and right now she didn’t know whether she was coming or going.
Why, then, did it feel as though she’d just passed over something special?
CHAPTER TWO
‘COME on, ladies,’ Sophie called to the hens. ‘Feeding time.’ She scattered a mix of corn and pellets over the rough ground and immediately found herself surrounded by a huddle of excited, squawking poultry. Ferdie, the goose, preened himself, then thrust out his chest and paraded around the compound as if he owned the place, until it dawned on him that he was missing out because the hens were already busy tucking in.
Sophie threw down the rest of the feed and walked over to the gate. Suddenly, she felt a nudge from behind and was pushed forward against the fence, so that she had to put out a hand to steady herself.
‘Don’t do that, George,’ she said crossly, turning to reprimand the goat. ‘I’ve told you before, you mustn’t butt people. It isn’t polite. Wait your turn, and I’ll feed you, too.’ But George was taking no notice at all and nudged her again. She sighed. ‘Why can’t you be nice and placid like your mate, Jessie?’ she queried. ‘Look at her, she’s munching grass. She’s quite contented and she never gives me any trouble. Unlike you.’ It occurred to her, though, that Jessie was maybe a little too content with life on the farm. She was always eating and she seemed to be putting on quite a bit of weight.
Still, she didn’t have time to dwell too much on the animals’ welfare just now. She was running late. Her shift at the hospital started in around three quarters of an hour and she still had to top up the ponies’ hay and fill up the water troughs.
It was some twenty minutes later that she was finally ready to set off for the hospital. Glancing back at the lovely, stone-built farmhouse, where a late flush of roses clambered over the walls and mingled with lush, green ivy, she felt the familiar pang of loss as she drove away. It was a beautiful house, lovingly cherished by her parents, and she missed them dreadfully. This had been her home from as far back as she could remember, a place where she had always felt safe and secure, but now everything had changed. Her life had been turned upside down overnight after that fatal traffic accident.
Once she arrived at work, there was no time to settle into the day. ‘You’re wanted down in A and E,’ the duty nurse told her. ‘It’s a five-year-old with breathing difficulties. He was brought in by ambulance a few minutes ago, and the registrar’s asking for a paediatric consultation.’
‘Thanks, Hannah,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ll go down there right away. Is everything else going smoothly here?’
Hannah nodded. ‘I’m doing observations on the children who were admitted overnight. There aren’t any problems that I can see, so far, except that the boy with the congenital heart condition is still very weak. He’s probably going to need surgery before too long, according to Mr Burnley.’
‘I’ll look in on him as soon as I get back.’ Sophie shrugged into her white linen coat and took a stethoscope from her pocket before hurrying towards the lift.
‘The registrar called for me to look at the young boy with breathing problems?’ she said to the house officer when she arrived in Accident and Emergency a couple of minutes later.
‘That’s right.’ Debbie Logan, a pretty, newly qualified doctor with long, chestnut-coloured hair and grey eyes, led her to the treatment room where the little boy was lying in bed propped up by pillows. He was pale, and in obvious distress, with his breathing shallow and rapid. He was already attached to monitors that registered his pulse and respiratory rate and showed the activity of his heart.
‘His blood oxygen level is very low,’ Sophie commented. The child was being given oxygen through a face mask, but clearly it was Sophie’s job to find out what was causing his difficulties.
She greeted the child’s parents, who were sitting beside his bed looking extremely anxious. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m Sophie Welland, the paediatrician. I understand that James was taken ill suddenly?’
‘He’s had a cough these last few days, and a bit of a wheeze,’ his mother said. ‘But it got worse in the early hours of this morning, and we were worried, so we called for an ambulance and he was brought straight to A and E.’
Sophie nodded. ‘I’ll listen to his chest,