Posh Doc Claims His Bride. Anne Fraser
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Suddenly Cameron bent his head and whispered in her ear. ‘Is it really you? I never thought I’d see you again.’
Meagan felt time stand still. She looked into his eyes and he grinned back at her. He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging her to admit she remembered him too. She knew without a shadow of doubt he was thinking about that night.
‘I’m surprised you remember. It was a long time ago. And,’ she couldn’t help adding, ‘that night obviously didn’t mean much to you.’
He frowned again, and rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s where you’d be wrong, Meagan,’ he said softly. ‘You are not a woman a man could easily forget.’
Anne Fraser was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child, she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the Health Sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.
Recent titles by the same author:
HER VERY SPECIAL BOSS
DR CAMPBELL’S SECRET SON
POSH DOC CLAIMS HIS BRIDE
BY
ANNE FRASER
MILLS & BOON
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CHAPTER ONE
AS MEAGAN breathed in the heady aroma of peat smoke that drifted through her car window, she felt almost happy for the first time since Charlie had died. Maybe, just maybe, she could find some measure of peace and contentment on this remote Scottish island, which would be her home for the next few weeks and perhaps longer.
But, she thought as she glanced at her watch, she wasn’t going to make a good first impression if she were late for her meeting with Dr MacDonald and his colleague. And she was going to be late unless the stream of cars that she had followed off the ferry went a bit faster than the ten miles an hour at which they were currently travelling. Incredibly, the cars in front slowed down even further—tourists unsure of the road, Meagan assessed exasperatedly.
Deciding to take action, she gunned her powerful four-wheel-drive into second gear and, checking there was no oncoming traffic, began overtaking. It only took a fraction of second for her to realise her mistake—the cars had slowed down because the island road was reverting from two lanes to a single lane and there was no room to manoeuvre her Land Rover past the cars in front. Meagan did the only thing she could—she pumped her brakes and swung her vehicle hard to the left towards a lay-by. Everything would have still been OK had the recent rain not made the road greasy. Horrified, Meagan realised that she had lost traction and was heading for the ditch instead. At the last moment she closed her eyes, expecting the car to bounce or even flip, but—thank God—it was made of sterner stuff. Slowly it slid gently—almost gracefully—off the road and came to a rest with the nearside wheels on the tarmac and the offside wheels in the ditch, causing the car to tilt unnervingly to the side.
As the engine stalled, Meagan sat in stunned shock. She moved her limbs tentatively but luckily she didn’t seem to have hurt herself. Before she had time to catch her breath, the passenger door was yanked open and a dark-haired man with concerned brown eyes leant in. Still shaking, she looked open-mouthed straight into the familiar set of eyes Cameron—the man who had occupied her thoughts for a long time after their first and only encounter all those years ago and whom she had never expected to see again, and certainly not within minutes of arriving on the island of Uist.
‘Are you OK? Have you hurt yourself?’ he asked, his voice cutting through her fog of confusion. Perhaps I am concussed, she thought, gingerly touching her forehead. Maybe that’s why I’m seeing Cameron in front of me. I’m concussed and mixing up the past with the present.
Pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes for a second, Meagan made herself breathe in deeply and slowly before opening her eyes again. Keep calm, you’re fine, she told herself. As she looked once more into those gorgeous brown pools, she knew she hadn’t been mistaken. It was Cameron. Apart from a narrowing of his eyes, he showed no sign that he recognised her. Could it be he had forgotten her? It had been several years and she knew she had changed. But surely not that much?
‘Just sit still for a moment until we check you over,’ Cameron said, reaching over the passenger seat to take a closer look.
‘I’m fine. Thank you. A little shaken perhaps,’ she replied, brushing his hands away. She was mortified to hear her voice tremble. ‘Did anyone else go off the road?’ she added anxiously, craning her neck to peer over his shoulder.
Reassured that she was unhurt, Cameron’s initial concern was replaced with anger. ‘No, but no thanks to you. What the bloody hell did you think you were doing, driving like a maniac on these roads? You could have killed yourself or worse still, someone else!’
His tone made Meagan’s hackles rise. She knew she had been at fault, but who did he think he was to lecture her as if she were a child? She raised her chin and looked at him coolly. Could this angry, disdainful man really be the same one she had known before?
‘Point taken. I’m fine. You can get on your way now. I’ll manage,’ she said, uncomfortably aware of how reckless she had been.
‘Don’t be a fool, woman.’ Despite the words, Cameron’s voice had softened. ‘Come on, we’ll help you get you back on the road. Hop out and we’ll see what can be done.’
Meagan, still a little dazed, put up no further argument and stepped out, to her horror immediately sinking up to her ankles in the boggy peat that lined the road. She looked down at her feet in dismay. The new shoes she had bought in a fit of extravagance to celebrate her new job had all but disappeared beneath the sludge. She tried to pull them out, first one then the other, almost overbalancing in the process, but her feet refused to budge. She was trapped.
She thought that matters couldn’t get any worse until she became aware that a crowd of onlookers had gathered as the occupants of the other cars left their vehicles to watch the proceedings. She lifted her eyes and found those of her rescuer, which, although moments before had looked at her sternly, were now twinkling with merriment, and although he tried to disguise it, a smile tugged at the corners of his generous mouth.
‘Oh, go on, Cameron, help her out!’ someone called out.
‘Lend her your wellies, Cameron!’ suggested another.
Meagan stood helplessly as Cameron, a broad grin lighting his face, stepped round to her side of the car, reached over and plucked her bodily from her muddy trap. As her feet came loose, she was imprisoned for a moment against his chest. He was so tall that despite her height of five feet eight she was still forced to