Their Most Forbidden Fling. Melanie Milburne
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the endless paddocks, the prolific wildflowers after last season’s rain, the colourful bird life on the dams and the waters of Carboola Creek, which ran through the property, took her home in a heartbeat. She could almost hear the arck arck sound of the crows and the warbling of the magpies.
Her parents had run the neighbouring property Drummond Downs up until their bitter divorce seven years ago. It had been in her family for six generations, gearing up for a seventh, but Matthew’s death had changed everything.
Her father had not handled his grief at losing his only son. Her mother had not handled her husband’s anger and emotional distancing. The homestead had gradually run into the red and then, after a couple of bad seasons, more and more parcels of land had had to be sold off to keep the bank happy. With less land to recycle and regenerate crops and stock, the property had been pushed to the limit. Crippling debts had brought her parents to the point of bankruptcy.
Offers of help from neighbours, including Lucas’s parents, Bill and Jane Banning, had been rejected. Molly’s father had been too proud to accept help, especially from the parents of the boy who had been responsible for the death of their only son. Drummond Downs had been sold to a foreign investor, and her parents had divorced within a year of leaving the homestead.
Molly sighed as she pressed the stop button, her hand falling back to her side. The sound of a footfall behind her made her turn around, and her heart gave a jerky little movement behind her ribcage as she met Lucas’s hazel gaze. ‘I was just …’ she lifted a hand and then dropped it ‘… looking at your photos …’
He closed the door with a soft click but he didn’t move towards the desk. It was hard to read his expression, but it seemed to Molly as if he was controlling every nuance of his features behind that blank, impersonal mask. ‘Neil emails me photos from time to time,’ he said.
‘They’re very good,’ Molly said. ‘Very professional.’
Something moved like a fleeting shadow through his eyes. ‘He toyed with the idea of being a professional photographer,’ he said. ‘But as you know … things didn’t work out.’
Molly chewed at the inside of her mouth as she thought about Neil working back at Bannington Homestead when he might have travelled the world, doing what he loved best. So many people had been damaged by the death of her brother. The stone of grief thrown into the pond of life had cast wide circles in the community of Carboola Creek. When Lucas had left Bannington to study medicine, his younger brother Neil had taken over his role on the property alongside their father. Any hopes or aspirations of a different life Neil might have envisaged for himself had had to be put aside. The oldest son and heir had not stepped up to the plate as expected. Various factions of the small-minded community had made it impossible for Lucas to stay and work the land as his father and grandfather had done before him.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Molly said, not even realising how firmly she believed it until she had spoken it out loud. She had never blamed him but she had grown up surrounded by people who did. But her training as a doctor had made her realise that sometimes accidents just happened. No one was to blame. If Matt had been driving, as he had only minutes before they’d hit that kangaroo that had jumped out in front of them on the road, it would have been him that had been exiled.
Lucas hooked a brow upwards as he pushed away from the door. ‘Wasn’t it?’
Molly turned as he strode past her to go behind his desk. She caught a faint whiff of his aftershave, an intricately layered mix of citrus and spice and something else she couldn’t name—perhaps his own male scent. His broad shoulders were so tense she could see the bunching of his muscles beneath his shirt. ‘It was an accident, Lucas,’ she said. ‘You know it was. That’s what the coroner’s verdict was. Anyway, Matt could easily have been driving instead of you. Would you have wanted him to be blamed for the rest of his life?’
His eyes met hers, his formal back-to-business look locking her out of the world of his pain. ‘What did you want to speak to me about?’ he asked.
Molly’s shoulders went down on an exhaled breath. ‘I sort of let slip to Jacqui Hunter that we knew each other from … back home …’
A muscle in his cheek moved in and out. ‘I see.’
‘I didn’t say anything about the accident,’ she said. ‘I just said we grew up in the same country town.’
His expression was hard as stone, his eyes even harder. ‘Why did you come here?’ he asked. ‘Why this hospital?’
Molly wasn’t sure she could really answer that, even to herself. Why had she felt drawn to where he had worked for all these years? Why had she ignored the other longer-term job offers to come to St Patrick’s and work alongside him for just three months? It had just seemed the right thing to do. Even her mother had agreed when Molly had told her. Her mother had said it was time they all moved on and put the past—and Matthew—finally to rest. ‘I wanted to work overseas but most of the other posts were for a year or longer,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay away from home quite that long. St Patrick’s seemed like a good place to start. It’s got a great reputation.’
He barricaded himself behind his desk, his hands on his lean hips in a keep-back-from-me posture. ‘I’ve spent the last decade trying to put what happened behind me,’ he said. ‘This is my life now. I don’t want to destroy what little peace I’ve been able to scratch together.’
‘I’m not here to ruin your peace or your life or career or whatever,’ Molly said. ‘I just wanted some space from my family. Things have been difficult between my parents, especially since Crystal got pregnant. I’m tired of being the meat in the sandwich. I wanted some time out.’
‘So you came right to the lion’s den,’ he said with an embittered look. ‘Aren’t your parents worried I might destroy your life too?’
Molly pressed her lips together for a moment. Her father had said those very words in each and every one of their heated exchanges when she’d broached the subject of coming to London. ‘Do you want me to resign?’ she asked.
His forehead wrinkled in a heavy frown and one of his hands reached up and scored a rough pathway through his hair before dropping back down by his side. ‘No,’ he said, sighing heavily. ‘We’re already short-staffed. It might take weeks to find a replacement.’
‘I can work different shifts from you if—’
He gave her a dark look. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘People will start to ask questions if we make an issue out of it.’
‘I’m not here to make trouble for you, Lucas.’
He held her gaze for an infinitesimal moment, but the screen had come back up on his face. ‘I’ll see you on the ward,’ he said, and pulled out his chair and sat down. ‘I have to call a patient’s family.’
Molly walked to the door, but as she pulled it closed on her exit she saw that he was frowning heavily as he reached for the phone …
CHAPTER TWO
LUCAS WAS GOING through some blood results with Kate Harrison, one of the nurses, when Molly came into the ICU office the following day. Her perfume drifted towards him, wrapping around his senses, reminding him of summer, sweet peas and innocence. How she managed to look so gorgeous this early in the morning in ballet flats and plain black leggings and a long grey cardigan over a white top amazed him. She wasn’t wearing any make-up to speak of and her shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving her a fresh-faced, youthful look that was totally captivating.
‘Good morning,’ she said, her tentative smile encompassing Kate as well as him.
‘Morning,’ he said, turning back to the blood results. ‘Kate, I want you to keep an eye on Mr Taylor’s white-cell count and CRP. Let me know if there’s any change.’
‘I’ll ring you with the results when they come in,’ Kate said. She turned to Molly.