abruptly and leapt into the Land Rover, revving it up and accelerating out of the little drive with a spurt of pebbles. What the hell was he thinking about, allowing himself to even notice what Terry Younger looked like, let alone visualise himself touching her—and more? How much easier it would have been if the agency had sent a man, or even a much older woman to take the job—anyone but a knockout like Terry Younger.
He pictured her elfin face with those large expressive eyes like liquid gold and the crisp fair hair framing her face. The trouble was, he thought, gripping the steeringwheel tightly, he’d been taken unawares when Terry had come along, imagining that she would be a man. He scowled out at the landscape as he drove along. Just because he’d led a monastic life for the past few months, the last thing he needed was the distraction of sexual attraction with a colleague. Then he smiled grimly to himself. A city girl like her would probably not last long in the remote world of Scuola—after all, it hadn’t taken Zara long to find the place was not to her liking.
Terry stood in the doorway, staring after Atholl with a puzzled frown. He seemed to have suddenly become tense, uneasy about something. Was he perhaps regretting offering her the job? She shrugged. It was too late to back out now, and she’d not give up the job without a fight. She bent down to pat Shona, who looked up at her with trusting brown eyes.
‘I’ll show him, Shona,’ she whispered. ‘He’ll not regret having me in the practice—even if I am a woman.’
CHAPTER THREE
A DOG barking and the sound of horses’ hooves on the road woke Terry up with a start from a deep sleep. For a moment she panicked, thinking she was back in London, but there was no sound of traffic and no curtains at the window to cut off the light streaming onto her bed. She relaxed back again. Of course, she was in a little cottage on Scuola—about seven hundred miles away from her old home and quite safe. She searched for her watch on the bedside table and squinted at the face with amazed horror. It was nine-thirty—she must have slept for twelve hours.
Gradually the previous day’s events began to unravel through her mind. It had been a day of mixed emotions, leaving her beloved London, meeting Atholl Brodie in the most dramatic of circumstances, then finding out he was the man she was going to be working with.
She lay for a second reflecting on just what kind of a man he was—outspoken, decisive, but probably fair enough in his dealings with people. And, of course, there were his looks…deep blue eyes in a strong good-looking face swam into her mind. She sighed and swung her legs over the bed. Hadn’t she learned that drop-dead gorgeous men had too much confidence, things came too easily to them? She was certainly not about to stray into dangerous emotional territory again—especially in a working relationship. But there was a peculiar little flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him later.
She padded over to the open window and looked out on a brilliant day, catching her breath at the view. The sun was shining on the distant vista of a blue sea she could see over the fields, and just down by the side of the cottage there was a stream that tumbled and sparkled its way under a little bridge and towards a copse. Through the open window drifted the sweet fresh smells of early spring and the sound of the chattering water.
‘A far cry from London,’ she murmured, peering down to see if Atholl’s car had gone from the front of the cottage. There was no sign of it, so he must have gone to work.
There was a scrabbling noise at the door and Shona trotted in, coming over to nuzzle Terry and then lie on her side in a patch of warm sunlight. Terry had a quick wash and threw on some clothes from her case, which Atholl had placed on the small landing. She squinted into the tiny mirror in the darkest corner of the little room as she flicked a brush through her hair. Her image looked back at her—large eyes framed by wayward short curly fair hair. Funny how a slight change in hair colour and cut could make a face look quite different, she thought. She turned to the dog looking up at her with interest.
‘Right, Shona, let’s see what’s for breakfast, shall we?’
The kitchen was a tiny room with just enough space for a sink, fridge and oven. On the working top was a note. ‘If you feel rested enough to come to the surgery, please take my uncle’s car parked in the layby just down the road. Keys in drawer.’
After a cup of black coffee and a fruitless hunt for anything more sustaining than a stale piece of bread, Terry put on a jacket and made her way to the car.
‘Bye, Shona,’ she called to the dog, who was watching her through the window. ‘If I don’t find my way I may be back soon!’
In fact, it was an easy ten-minute drive to The Sycamores. The worst part was parking the car in between a builder’s lorry and Atholl’s Land Rover in the drive. The house did indeed look rundown, Terry thought, taking a more detailed look at the paintwork on the windows, the battered front door and the small neglected border covered with weeds.
‘I could easily make that look better when the flat’s ready,’ she murmured to herself as she went into the hall.
The waiting room was crowded and there was no one at Reception.
‘The doctor’s running late—you’ll have to wait a wee while,’ said an elderly man helpfully, by the door.
‘I’m here to work, actually.’ Terry smiled, making her way through the room. A battery of eyes watched her go behind the reception counter while she waited for Isobel to materialise. She looked at the disparate crowd of people who gazed curiously back at her. Hopefully soon she would get to know them, and start to feel part of another community.
‘Ah, we wondered when you’d make an appearance!’ said Isobel, coming into the room with an armful of post.
Terry was getting used to Isobel’s forthright manner and pulled a rueful face. ‘Sorry I’m late. I had the best sleep I’ve had in ages, though. Now I’m ready, willing and able…’
Isobel nodded. ‘Aye, well, you had reason to be tired, didn’t you? Atholl told me about the accident you were involved in yesterday—quite a baptism of fire in your new home!’ She pursed her lips. ‘And talking of home, did you find anything for breakfast in that fridge of his?’
‘Not a lot.’ Terry laughed. ‘But I’m fine. Fortunately there was plenty of coffee.’
Isobel made a tutting sound. ‘I’ll get you something soon. No one can work on an empty stomach—any doctor should know that. Now, Atholl says would you use the room at the end of the passage—he’ll be through directly to show you how the programme on the computer works and then I’ll send your first patient through.’
Terry looked around her new surgery. It was quite a large room with an examining couch at one side, a washbasin and two enormous cupboards on the other, and a window with a crooked blind over it at the end. A bookcase filled with weighty medical tomes and magazines was squeezed near the door. Probably it was normally Euan’s room, she surmised. There were a few yellowing photographs on the wall of groups of students, and surely one of Euan himself, a stern white-haired gentleman glaring into the room, looking very like Atholl might do in years to come. She opened a drawer in the desk and smiled when she saw the contents—a lipstick and eyeliner wasn’t anything Uncle Euan would have use for. The last locum must have been a woman!
There was a tap at the door and Atholl entered. He looked much smarter than yesterday in a dark suit and tie, his white shirt emphasising his tanned face. From a purely objective point of view, Terry told herself, he certainly was one eye-catching guy.
Atholl’s eyes flicked over her, completed a quick survey of her navy trouser suit and the pink silk shirt she was wearing under the jacket. She looked delectable, he thought wryly. He’d had time to reflect in the last twelve hours on what a fool he’d been yesterday, rushing off rudely like a madman just because he was frightened of a rerun of the situation he’d had with Zara. It wasn’t Terry’s fault that she was so damned attractive and the poor girl hadn’t had a very welcoming reception. If they were going to work well together it was imperative that he maintain