Sarah Morgan Summer Collection. Sarah Morgan
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time you want company in that lonely old cottage of yours, just say the word.’
Kyla opened her mouth to reply but the words didn’t come and the beautiful smile faded as she stared at something.
It took a moment for Ethan to realise that he was that something. And another moment for him to realise that he was staring back and that he’d walked almost to her side without even noticing that he’d done so. He’d been drawn to her and the knowledge unsettled him. He was accustomed to being in control of his reactions, especially when it came to women.
Irritated with himself, he kept his tone cool. ‘I heard you mention that you’re meeting the new doctor. I’m Dr Walker. Ethan Walker.’ He watched her face for signs of recognition, relieved when he saw none. Why would there be? It wasn’t a name she’d know. And he had no intention of enlightening her. Not yet. He needed time to establish himself. Time to assess the situation without the complications that revealing his identity would inevitably arouse.
He watched as the wind picked up a strand of her blonde hair and blew it across her face.
‘You’re Dr Walker?’ Her gaze was frank and appraising with no trace of either shyness or flirtation. She made no secret of the fact he was under scrutiny and he had the strangest feeling that if she hadn’t liked what she’d seen she would have sent him back on the ferry to the mainland.
A strange heat spread through his body and he gave a faint smile.
His lifestyle wasn’t compatible with long, meaningful relationships and he was careful to avoid them, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of appreciating feminine appeal when it was standing in front of him.
At another time, in another place he might have done something about the powerful thud of attraction that flared between them, but he reminded himself that romance would only tangle the already complicated.
He tried to analyse the strength of his reaction—tried to provide a logical explanation for the primitive thud of lust that tore through his body.
It was true that she was striking, but he’d been with women more beautiful and more sophisticated—women to whom grooming was a full-time preoccupation. No one could describe Kyla’s appearance as groomed. She was as wild as the island she inhabited, her hair falling loose over her shoulders in untamed waves and her face free of make-up. But her smile was wide and her eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm for life that was infectious. She looked like a woman who knew the meaning of the word happiness. An optimist. A woman who was going to grab life round the throat and enjoy every last second.
Aware that he was still staring, Ethan reminded himself firmly that his reasons for coming to the nethermost reaches of Scotland didn’t include a need for female company.
‘I’m Kyla MacNeil. Logan’s sister.’ She balanced the parcel on one arm and extended a hand. ‘Welcome to Glenmore, Dr Walker. If you come with me, I’ll take you straight up to the surgery and then I’ll show you your new home and help get you settled in.’
‘You’re Logan’s sister?’ Ethan stared down into her blue eyes and searched for a resemblance. ‘He talked about a little sister …’
‘That’s me. I’m twenty-five years old but that’s six years less than him so I suppose that makes me his little sister. Are you going to shake this hand of mine, Dr Walker? Because if not, I’ll put it away.’
Wondering why he was at a loss with a woman when he’d always considered himself experienced with her sex, Ethan shook her hand and nodded to Jim. ‘Thanks for the lift. I’ll be seeing you around.’
‘If you’re the new Island doctor, I hope you won’t. The only time I plan to see you is in the pub or when I’m waving you goodbye as you leave this place.’ Jim stepped back as the last of the cars clanked its way down the ramp and onto the quay. ‘I intend to stay healthy.’
‘Talking of which, how’s that diet of yours going?’ Kyla clutched the parcel to her chest and Jim pulled a face.
‘Ever since she talked to you about what I should be eating, all Maisie seems to cook these days is fish and porridge. No bacon and eggs and I haven’t seen a piece of cheese since the sun last shone, and that’s a while ago. Life’s just miserable. The only good thing is that Logan’s stopped nagging me because he’s very pleased with my cholesterol. It’s come right down on that new drug.’
‘That would be the statin he switched you to. Glad to hear it’s working. Well, we need to go. I need to get to the surgery or Logan will be grumbling. Take care of yourself, Jim. The forecast for the end of the week is storms.’
Jim gave a grunt and watched as the last car clattered its way over the ramp and onto the island. ‘Wouldn’t be Glenmore if we didn’t have storms.’
She turned to Ethan. ‘Didn’t you bring a car?’
‘I’ve been working abroad until recently. I took the train but my car is being delivered later today. I gave them the address of the surgery.’
‘In that case, you’ll need a lift to the surgery. It’s too far to walk.’
Ethan shifted his case into the other hand. ‘Let me carry the box for you.’
‘All right. I’m not one to reject a chivalrous gesture, even in the twenty-first century.’ She relinquished the parcel and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. ‘Don’t drop it. It’s a new defibrillator. One of those ones that talks to you, although, knowing my brother, if it starts to give him instructions he’ll probably argue with it.’
Ethan took the parcel from her and followed her along the quay, watching the way everyone converged on her.
‘Kyla.’ An elderly woman crossed the street to speak to her. ‘I read that leaflet you gave me about strengthening your bones …’
‘Glad to hear it, Mrs Porter.’ She paused, her smile friendly. ‘All OK?’
‘Oh, yes. It advised you to walk more and lift weights. I’m a bit too old for the gym, so I filled some empty milk bottles with water and I’ve been using those.’
‘Great idea. Well, if you have any questions you can find me in surgery and we can have a really good chat. And don’t forget to speak to Evanna about doing her exercise class.’
She walked on a bit further before she was stopped by one of the fishermen who was untangling his net. ‘Nurse MacNeil—I need to have those stitches of mine taken out.’
‘How’s the leg feeling?’
‘Sore.’
She nodded. ‘It was a nasty cut. You need to keep it up when you’re resting. Pop in on Friday and I’ll take the stitches out and take another look at it. If you need antibiotics, I can have a word with Logan.’
She walked on, somehow managing to acknowledge everyone’s greeting in a friendly manner while avoiding lengthy conversation.
Ethan watched in silent admiration, trying to imagine something similar happening in London and failing. In London everyone kept their eyes forward and went about their own business. ‘You know everyone.’
‘This is an island, Dr Walker. Everyone knows everyone.’ She scraped her unruly hair out of her eyes and lifted an eyebrow in his direction. ‘Is that going to be a problem for you?’
‘Why would it be?’
Her glance was assessing. ‘You’re a city boy and the one thing that you can guarantee in a big, soulless city is anonymity. And that suits some people. Not everyone wants folks knowing their business.’
A city boy.
Ethan thought about the places he’d worked in, the dust, the heat and the sheer weight of human suffering. She had no idea. Oh, yes, he’d experienced anonymity. The sort where you shouted and no one listened.
Kyla lengthened her stride, nodded