Judy Campbell - Return of Dr Maguire

‘There’s a field beyond the woods at the end of the garden, they’ll put down there. It’ll only take them a few minutes to get here now.’

Lachlan got to his feet and went to the door to meet them, and very soon three men in bright orange outfits and luminous jerkins with ‘Doctor’ and ‘Paramedic’ labels across them came running across the courtyard. Lachlan gave a quick résumé of Gregory’s visible injuries and what he and Christa had done so far to stabilise him.

‘He’ll get a full body scan, and the theatre’s on standby,’ said the doctor accompanying them. ‘He was damn lucky that he had you two near him when he decided to do his sky-walking exploits.’

The paramedics set up a drip and strapped a spinal board on Gregory, with an oxygen mask over his face, and Carl started to sidle surreptitiously towards the door. One of the paramedics stopped him, looking at his pale face and trembling hands.

‘Have you hurt yourself?’ he enquired.

‘No. I’m OK.’ The voice was sullen, uncooperative.

‘Why don’t you come with us for a check-up, eh?’

A vehement shake of the head. ‘I’m OK, I tell you. I’m going home.’ He jerked his head in Gregory’s direction. ‘He’ll be OK now, won’t he? You don’t need me.’

‘Oh, yes, we do, my friend.’ A burly policeman had appeared at the barn door and stood in front of the boy. ‘We need a few names and addresses, young man. A little bit of information as to how this happened, if you please.’

He led Carl out of the building. The boy looked pathetic, shoulders drooping, and his jeans hung so low around his hips they were barely able to stay up. He looked back at Lachlan and muttered, ‘Will Greg be all right?’

‘Hopefully, but he won’t be climbing around on roofs for a while,’ remarked Lachlan drily.

* * *

The emergency services had gone and it had stopped raining as Christa and Lachlan walked back across the yard, Titan trotting proudly beside them, as if aware that he had been the first to alert them to the emergency. Lachlan stretched, flexing his stiff lower back, which had taken the strain of him pushing the beam away, and took a deep breath of the clear air. The velvety night sky had cleared of cloud and was twinkling with a tapestry of stars. In the distance was the sound of the sea, whooshing in and out on the beach.

‘God, that smells good. How I’ve missed that special Highland tang,’ he murmured. ‘I’d forgotten just how intoxicating the air can be in this little corner of the world.’

‘How many years since you’ve been here, then?’

A short silence, then he said roughly, ‘Too many...but it’s good to be back.’

Christa looked at the bleak expression on his face, and felt a moment’s impatience. If he had missed home so much, why hadn’t he come back occasionally to see his mother, a woman on her own? Christa was tempted to ask outright what had kept him away, but she sensed that that would be a question too far at the moment.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. So much had happened in the last hour and she should have felt drained, but instead she felt the kick of adrenalin after a job well done. Together they’d managed to keep Gregory alive, to retrieve a situation that had looked almost impossible.

She was profoundly grateful that Lachlan Maguire had been there—almost unwillingly she admitted that he’d been pretty impressive, efficient and reliable. Just the kind of person one would want in an emergency. She flicked a glance at his tall figure beside her—perhaps, after all, she was prepared to believe that he was as good as he said he was at his job!

‘I...I’m glad you were here. In fact, if you hadn’t been, I think the ending could have been very different. Thank you,’ she said.

‘Do you think our young friends are the culprits who’ve been nicking stuff from here?’ he said.

‘Could be... They’re both patients but I haven’t seen them for ages. From his odd behaviour on the roof I wonder if Gregory’s on something Anyway, they’ll do plenty of tests at St Luke’s.’ Christa sighed. ‘I’ll bet his parents don’t know what he’s up to—or are turning a blind eye to the situation.’

‘They’re going to find out soon,’ said Lachlan grimly.

‘God—it was a bit scary, like being back in A and E again. I thought we’d lost him, and he had so many injuries...’ Then she puffed out her cheeks, laughing up at Lachlan, her amber eyes dancing with relief. ‘But it was a great feeling that we kept him going till the paramedics came, wasn’t it?’

He looked down at Christa’s dust-covered face turned up to his, and a feeling of affinity with a colleague after a job well done intensified into something else—the treacherous flare of sexual attraction. For a second his eyes roamed over her heart-shaped face and wide eyes, as if seeing her properly for the first time, and he sucked in his breath. Good God, she was absolutely ravishing...and desirable.

Almost absent-mindedly he touched her cheek, wiping away some mud and allowing his finger to trail down her jaw. He smiled at her, then without warning he bent his head down and brushed her lips with his, slowly, deliberately, fiercely.

‘You shouldn’t look so bloody beautiful,’ he whispered against her ear.

Christa remained motionless for a second then touched her lips where his had been. They felt full, tingling and soft, and for a second she was bewildered. Where the hell had that come from, or had she just imagined it?

Then a feeling of outrage swept through her—Lachlan Maguire had the cheek of the devil!

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded icily.

He laughed. ‘Come on—you’ve got your headmistress look on your face again! It was just an expression of thanks for a job well done. Am I to sit on the naughty step?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘We seemed to work rather well together, that’s all! A spur-of-the-moment thing!’

‘You took a damn liberty!’

He looked rather penitent, but his blue eyes danced at her mischievously, and he gave his most disarming grin. ‘It was just a little gesture of, er, thanks,’ he protested. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you—it was a sort of compliment!’

Christa opened her mouth to say something cutting then shut it again because for a minute Lachlan looked so like a naughty schoolboy that, despite herself, she felt an urge to giggle. Obviously the impulsive kiss that had sent her reeling meant absolutely nothing to him—just a bit of fun.

And yet, she admitted to herself, the truth was that every single nerve in her body had seemed to respond with a longing for something more, something much more intimate, something that would repeat the fireworks that had seemed to explode so suddenly around her as his mouth had plundered hers. It was as if a switch had been thrown, and something that hadn’t worked for a long time had been kicked into action.

She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and decided the best response was to try and treat the episode with dignified aversion.

She buttoned up her jacket, and said rather pompously, ‘Don’t expect a repeat performance, Lachlan—I took you on as a work colleague, not a rake!’

He burst into laughter. ‘Come on...it doesn’t suit you to take life so seriously, Dr Lennox! I thought you secretly wanted to press your lovely body close to mine...’

This was a little too near the truth. Christa flushed and said indignantly, ‘Don’t be silly!’

Lachlan assumed a more contrite expression. ‘Don’t be cross. I’m sorry if I took you by surprise, but I know we’ll make a very good partnership.’

Those amazing eyes danced winningly into Christa’s, almost like a caress in itself, and although she was really mad at him, she couldn’t help smiling back. They were going to have to work together amicably, she told herself, so there was no point in maintaining a frigid atmosphere. She’d just have to be on her guard in the future. After all, wasn’t it typical of some males to take relationships as casually as picking sweets from a jar?

Then, dangerously, the thought echoed in her mind that if one kiss could practically send her into orbit, making her heart clatter in her chest and a thousand butterflies seem as if they were fluttering somewhere around in her stomach, what would it be like if they made real, proper love?

Titan whimpered and Christa bent down to ruffle the little dog’s head, grateful of the distraction to her thoughts. ‘Poor old Titan, you want your supper. In all the fuss I’d forgotten that. Come on, then—home time now.’ She turned to Lachlan and said lightly, ‘See you soon.’

As she walked home through the still night Christa’s heart beat a tattoo against her ribs, and even her legs felt slightly wobbly. It had been so long since any man had caressed her or kissed her—so long since she’d fancied anyone enough to do so. But out of the blue, out of nowhere, had come a man she didn’t know at all, sending her into a spin! She came to her front door and her hand trembled slightly as she tried to put the key in the lock.

‘What’s the matter with me, Titan?’ she asked the little dog. ‘Have I gone completely mad?’

* * *

Lachlan closed the door, leaning against the wall for a minute, and took a deep breath, reflecting on the effect two soft full lips could have on a man when they were pressed to his mouth. He hadn’t expected his body to respond so urgently, and wondered what on earth had possessed him to kiss Christa after a mere afternoon’s acquaintance. Then he grinned to himself—because she was so damned beautiful, of course, and didn’t the thought of shocking that rather prim, headmistressy personality rather appeal?

He was used to casual relationships—never commit yourself because they never lasted, was his mantra. Take your pleasure where you could. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake his parents had—get married, supposedly for life, and then destroy the family with a bitter and cruel break-up.

Perhaps he’d gone a step too far with Christa Lennox, expecting her to take his kiss as casually as he had—but life was for living and having fun, wasn’t it? Except, of course, he’d forgotten that one person he should keep at arm’s length was someone from the Lennox family. And neither had he bargained for the fierce longing he now had to kiss Christa again—and more.

* * *

‘Isobel’s son? I don’t believe it!’ Alice Smith’s large blue eyes looked at Christa in amazement, and she paused in mid-action as she pulled open a filing-cabinet drawer. ‘He’s a bit late, isn’t he? Isobel’s funeral was a week ago!’

‘Nobody knew where he was, and he only heard she’d died a few days ago,’ explained Christa.

Christa and the two receptionists, Alice Smith and Ginny Calder, were having a quick cup of coffee before the Monday morning surgery, and Christa had been regaling them with the previous day’s events in the barn. Both girls goggled in disbelief at Christa.

‘Where’s he been, then, all these years?’ asked Ginny, the elder of the two receptionists, her eyes popping with surprise behind her thick-lensed glasses.

‘He’s been working in Australia—it took a time to find out where he was.’

Alice stuffed some papers into the files and said thoughtfully, ‘It was sad, wasn’t it—to stay away as long as he did. I wonder what happened.’

‘I remember him,’ recalled Ginny. ‘He was a handsome lad, and I know he was the apple of his mother’s eye. She was so proud of him.’

‘Well, what went wrong?’ asked Alice bluntly. ‘How come she never spoke about him?’