the time it had hurt too much to articulate. And when he had managed to say it, the pity on other people’s faces had choked him.
‘It’s not just them. I’m so angry with him.’
Anger was one of the stages of grief, he knew, along with denial and bargaining and depression. And finally there would be acceptance. But she really needed to talk about this. As she’d said to him so recently, bottling things up made them worse. ‘Why?’ he asked softly.
‘He always had to have the fastest car. And he always drove like a maniac. He knew Papà was expecting him to take over—but would he be careful? No. Scrape after scrape after scrape. And I always had to bail him out.’ She shook her head. ‘The day before my Finals started, he expected me to go back to Contarini and sort things out with our parents. He’d been stupid and lost a lot of money in a card game.’
So her parents were wealthy? Dragan wasn’t that surprised. She had an air of breeding about her. Though he’d just bet she’d been like him and worked her own way through college—not because she’d had to but because she was too independent to rely on a silver spoon.
Maybe that was why she’d reacted so badly to his teasing ‘princessy’ comment.
‘But I said no. I’d worked too hard for my exams to give it all up for something I knew would just happen again and again—because Raffi only ever did what he wanted and he never stopped to think things through before he acted.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘And he barely spoke to me afterwards, because I made him stand on his own two feet for once.’
‘He probably still knew you loved him.’
‘And that’s another reason I don’t like myself. Because I’m not so sure I did love him.’
‘You can love someone without liking them,’ Dragan pointed out, stroking her hair.
‘I don’t fit in with my family. I never have. And I know the second I step off that plane the pressure’s going to start.’
‘Pressure?’
‘To go back to Contarini. To do what they want me to do. Give up being a vet—but I can’t. This is who I am, Dragan.’
‘Then let me come with you. Take some of the flak for you.’
‘You can’t.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s really not fair to you.’
‘Carissima, you didn’t ask. I offered. Look, I’ve lived through a war. Nothing scares me any more because I know there is always a light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how dark things seem at the time. And I can help you through this.’
‘You can’t,’ she repeated. ‘We’ve got that appointment lined up with Reverend Kenner tomorrow.’
‘He won’t mind putting it back. Besides, I can’t discuss the wedding without you.’
‘Yes, you can. Otherwise it holds everything up.’
He frowned. ‘What difference does a couple of days make? Why the hurry?’
‘Because I don’t want to wait for the rest of my life to start.’
Something was going on here, and he really wasn’t sure what it was.
‘Dragan. I love you,’ she said softly. Urgently. ‘I want to marry you and I don’t want my family interfering.’
He didn’t understand why they’d interfere. At twentyseven, Melinda was more than capable of making her own choices. ‘So you haven’t told them yet? About us, I mean?’
She shook her head. ‘And now isn’t the right time. Not with Raffi’s funeral.’
‘But if you want to get married as soon as we can, you’ll have to give them some notice. Surely they’ll want to come to the wedding?’
‘I’ll tell them when we’ve set a date. Which you and Reverend Kenner can sort out tomorrow.’ She twisted her hair round her fingers. ‘At least I’ll be able to come home to you and to happy news.’
He rested his cheek against her hair. ‘All right. If that’s really what you want me to do. But at least let me drive you to the airport tomorrow. And I can pick you up when you get back.’
‘Thank you.’ She held him tightly, almost as if she were drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat. ‘Dragan. There is something I should tell you about, something we need to discuss. Something…’
She sounded worried sick, and he dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘Not now. You’ve just had a horrible shock. Whatever it is, it can wait until you’re back from Contarini. Everything’s going to be fine.’
‘I love you. And I don’t deserve you.’
He scoffed. ‘Of course you do.’ Or was this why she wasn’t close to her family? Was this why she’d chosen to move to another country, because they were always putting her down and telling her she wasn’t good enough? Wealthy parents were often ambitious for their children—and if she’d resisted going into a long-standing family business, that was probably the root of the difficulties between them. A career that would make any other parents proud might disappoint hers because they’d expected something else for her. ‘And I love you, too. You need to book that flight—but eat first.’
She grimaced. ‘I can’t face anything. Not now.’
‘And the chips are probably cold by now. I could put them in the microwave,’ he suggested.
‘Dragan Lovak, and you a doctor!’ She shook her head in apparent disbelief. ‘Tut-tut. Think of the bacteria. Reheated food that hasn’t been chilled properly in between…it’s an absolute breeding ground. And, besides, the chips will go soggy if you put them in the microwave.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ But at least he’d made her smile again.
Though the look in her eyes disturbed him. The desperation. Would it really be so bad for her, going back? ‘I’m here,’ he said softly. ‘And nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m around.’
If only that were true. As soon as he found out about her family…Oh, Dio. She had to tell him, she really did. But now wasn’t the time or the place. And he’d said it could wait…
Coward that she was, she was relieved. The risk of losing the man she loved right on top of losing her brother was just too horrible to contemplate. She knew he’d be hurt that she hadn’t told him before—and maybe angry that she hadn’t trusted him—and she felt bad about it. Guilty. But she just hadn’t been able to find the right words or the right time.
Though she’d tell him the truth about herself tomorrow morning. First thing.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘I’LL go and check on Bramble,’ Dragan said, ‘while you sort out your flights.’
‘You can bring her back here, if you like,’ Melinda said. ‘She’s no trouble.’
Having a dog to make a fuss of might help her, he thought.
Even though he lived just round the corner, to save time in the morning he drove over to Melinda’s and left his car in the surgery car park. If people talked—well, let them. After his meeting with Reverend Kenner tomorrow, everyone would know anyway.
Melinda had given him her key; he unlocked the door to her flat and carried Bramble up the stairs. Strictly speaking, he knew she could manage it herself, but he also knew what a lively dog she was—and her leg still hadn’t healed properly. If she slipped on the stairs and cracked a bone or shifted the pins again, she might have to lose the leg. And he really wanted to avoid that if possible.
The dog took full advantage of her position to lick his face, and he laughed. ‘You horrible mutt. What are you? Horrible!’
She