Leah Martyn - Wedding in Darling Downs

‘I thought about you a lot over the weekend.’

Emma swallowed. Her heart tripped. He was bending towards her, his blue eyes capturing hers with an almost magnetic pull. ‘I…’

‘Thought about me too?’ he murmured hopefully.

She had. She couldn’t deny it. But would it help either of them if she told him that? Did she need the complication an admission would undoubtedly bring?

Declan leaned closer to her, slowly.

‘Emma…’ he said, his voice low in this last second before his kiss.

Her mouth trembled. She lifted her gaze and stared at him, mesmerised by the yearning she saw in his eyes. The desire to be kissed by him was irresistible, and before she could second-guess the wisdom of it all she was leaning into him.

Declan took her face in his hands, his need materialising in the softest sigh before his mouth found hers. The kiss rolled through his blood, and raw need slammed into him like nothing he had ever known before.

Emma clung to him and the kiss deepened, turned wrenching and wild. She felt a need inside her, an overwhelming need to be touched and held by him.

But it wasn’t going to go that far. At least not today. She felt Declan pulling back, breaking the kiss slowly, gently, his lips leaving a shivering sweetness like trails of insubstantial gossamer.

A long beat of silence while they collected themselves.

‘Have we broken every rule in the official partnership handbook?’ Declan asked, wrapping her closer.

She licked her lips. ‘Possibly…probably.’

By

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LEAH MARTYNloves to create warm, believable characters for the Mills & Boon ®Medical ™Romance series. She is grounded firmly in rural Australia, and the special qualities of the bush are reflected in her stories. For plots and possibilities she bounces ideas off her husband on their early-morning walks. Browsing in bookshops and buying an armful of new releases is high on her list of enjoyable things to do.

Recent titles by the same author:

OUTBACK DOCTOR, ENGLISH BRIDE

THE DOCTOR’S PREGNANCY SECRET

A MOTHER FOR HIS BABY

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IT WAS winter. Early morning. And cold.

Emma burrowed her chin more deeply into the roll-collar of her fleece as she jogged the last of the way home across the park.

The cawing of a crow disturbed the peace. Emma slowed her step and looked about her. She loved this time before sunup. The moist atmosphere never failed to lift her spirits. And heaven knew she could do with a bit of that. Mist was everywhere, as translucent and filmy as a bridal veil. It seemed to have a life of its own, breathing up from the earth, softening the stark winter outlines of the trees.

Emma clicked back into the present, regaining her momentum. She hadn’t time to be indulging in fanciful thoughts. Another long day at the surgery loomed. But time for Kingsholme to keep functioning as a viable medical practice was running out. Her father’s sudden death almost three months ago had left Emma in disarray. Both personally and professionally. If she didn’t line up another partner quickly, the medical practice that had been founded by her grandfather would have to close. One lone doctor, namely her , couldn’t hope to generate enough income to keep the place functioning.

The end result would be for the practice and the beautiful old home that encompassed it to go under the auctioneer’s hammer.

The new owner, perhaps someone with an eye to the tourist potential of the district, would probably turn it into a bed and breakfast. And their little town would be left without a resident medical officer.

Emma’s spirits plummeted to a new low. The nerves in her stomach began knotting up again.

I should be able to get a doctor interested enough to work here, she berated herself. Even a decent locum who could fill the gap until a suitable partner came along. Perhaps her interviewing technique was all wrong. The few people who had actually showed, had taken one look at the set-up and promptly, if a bit awkwardly, fled.

Lifting the latch on the back gate, she made her way along the path and ran quickly up the steps to the verandah. She had time for a shower and marginally less time for breakfast. And then she’d better open the surgery and start seeing patients.

In her consulting room later, Emma threw her pen aside and lifted her arms in a long stretch. It had been another crazy morning. She couldn’t go on like this. She just couldn’t…

A soft tap sounded on her door before it opened. ‘Moira—’ Emma managed a passable smile for the practice manager ‘—come to tell me it’s lunch time already?’

Moira Connelly, who’d been with the practice for at least twenty years, came into the room and closed the door. She looked pointedly at Emma’s untouched cup of tea and the half-eaten muffin and clucked a motherly concern. ‘You don’t eat enough, Emma.’

Emma lifted a shoulder in a resigned shrug. ‘I’ll be out in a tick. Perhaps we could open a can of soup for lunch.’

‘I’ll manage something.’ Moira flapped a hand in dismissal. ‘Actually, I came to tell you there’s a Dr Declan O’Malley here to see you.’

A sudden light leapt into Emma’s green eyes. ‘Has he come about the job?’

Moira shook her head. ‘Apparently, he knew your dad.’

‘Oh—’ Emma bit her lips together, the grief she felt still raw and unchannelled.

Moira paused, pulling the edges of her cardigan more closely together, as if warding off a sudden chill. ‘I expect he wants to offer his condolences.’

‘I guess so…’ Emma’s short ray of hope faded into a heavy sigh. ‘Give me a minute, please, Moira and then ask Dr O’Malley to come through.’

Emma watched the door close behind Moira and then swung off her chair and went to stand at the picture window, looking out. She imagined this Dr O’Malley was a contemporary of her father’s from Melbourne. In earlier times Andrew Armitage had forged a rather distinguished medical career before the call of home had brought him back here to the town of Bendemere on the picturesque Darling Downs in Queensland.

Emma had spent holidays here, been happy here. So it had seemed only natural to come flying home when her world had fallen apart. Her return had coincided with the resignation of her father’s practice partner. Emma had stepped in, proud to work alongside her father. In the past year she’d begun to pull the shattered bits of her life together until it was almost making a whole picture again.

Then her father had suffered a massive heart attack, leaving her to cope alone.

Declan O’Malley prowled the reception area. In a few seconds he’d know whether Emma Armitage would welcome his visit or tell him to go to hell. God, he hoped she’d be reasonable. The situation demanded she be reasonable.

‘Oh, Dr O’Malley—’ Moira fluttered back into reception. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. Emma was just finishing up.’ She waved towards an inner corridor. ‘Second door on your left.’