Sue MacKay - Second Chance With Her Island Doc / Taking A Chance On The Single Dad

Did Anna know that poverty was one thing, rubbing the islanders’ noses in the riches of others was another?

He thought of Victoir’s face as Leo had agreed with Anna’s assertion that she was unfit to sign. He’d have the documents out again already, he thought. She might have already signed.

She was his patient. More, she was his colleague and she’d helped save his friend. He needed to see her.

‘It’s the least I can do,’ he muttered to himself.

And then he turned toward the castle.

He took the sea walk to the castle entrance. The walk itself did him good. It was early evening and the harbour was alive with fishing boats unloading, families coming down to help sort the catch, kids playing between lobster pots, cheerful banter between rival fishermen.

It was an idyllic setting. It disguised the grinding poverty underneath.

The idyll paled as he reached the castle walls. The massive stone fortress cast long shadows, and by the time he reached the vast oak and iron gates he felt cold.

Apartments. According to the Trust they’d have to be for Anna’s private pleasure. She was a doctor and a good one. He’d seen her immediate concern for Carla. How could Victoir’s grandiose plan ever give her pleasure?

And with that came another thought, maybe just as crazy. If medicine itself gave her pleasure then…then…

Don’t, he told himself. You’re here to protect her, make sure she’s healing. Don’t think past that.

First, face Victoir.

Islanders worked here—of course they did. They used the tradesmen’s entrance, though, but tonight Leo was damned if he’d use the tradesmen’s entrance.

He rang the bell and heard its sonorous tone echo behind the great stone walls. Few people rang this bell, he thought. Few people were welcome.

As he’d suspected, it was Victoir who answered the intercom. Victoir who controlled all intercourse between the castle and the world beyond. He’d been Yanni’s private secretary, but under Yanni’s indolent, indifferent rule his role had gone well past that.

‘Dr Aretino…’ Leo glanced up and saw cameras above his head. Of course. The castle’s massive moat was no longer used for defence, but defences were still there.

‘Victoir,’ he said, struggling to keep irritation from his voice. ‘I’m here to see Dr Raymond.’

‘She’s resting.’ His tone was curt, dismissive.

‘That’s why I’m here. She suffered concussion. She needs to be checked. I gather you refused the offer of our district nurse when you left the hospital. She needs at least one more check within the forty-eight-hour period after injury.

‘I can do that.’

The thought of Victoir checking made his skin crawl. It was all he could do to keep his voice even.

‘You’ll tell Dr Raymond I’m here to assess her medically and to give her an update on Dr Carla’s condition,’ he managed. ‘I need to hear from her personally.’

‘You’re not welcome.’

He should turn around and leave.

He didn’t.

‘You have my patient in there,’ he said, each word ringing loudly in the warm dusk. ‘I’m concerned about her head injury. I need to be assured that she’s well.’

‘You can take my word for it.’

‘That’s not enough. Unless you can produce a medical power of authority, I need to either speak to Dr Raymond myself or I’ll ask the local justice to demand access. You know I can do that, Victoir.’

The island justice would like nothing better than an excuse to demand entry to the castle and Victoir knew it. Leo heard the hesitation, the doubt, the weighing up of options.

Having the local authorities demanding entry would not suit Victoir’s sense of control.

‘She’s asleep,’ he said, and he sounded almost sulky.

‘Do you know how to differentiate between deep sleep and unconsciousness?’

Another pause. And then a heavy click and the vast gates started opening.

‘A quick check and you’re out of here,’ Victoir growled, but Leo didn’t bother to answer.

She wasn’t asleep. She’d tried hard enough. Home from the hospital, she’d felt weariness envelop her like a dead weight. It was reaction, she’d thought. She’d headed for bed in her over-the-top bedroom but she hadn’t slept.

Victoir had opened the door and checked on her—twice—and that had freaked her out. The man gave her the creeps. She wanted to shove a chair against the door to make her secure but that’d show him he made her nervous. For some reason she didn’t want him to see that.

She was wearing her yoga gear rather than her pyjamas because that made her feel safer—but not much. She’d feigned sleep and he’d gone away.

This whole place was weird, this over-the-top castle, its living quarters a monument to excess, the rest a derelict shambles. Given other circumstances the gothic setting could have entranced her, but now, alone, her head aching, what was on the other side of her bedroom door made her shudder.

She’d thought fleetingly of ringing Martin or Jennifer. If she said she was in trouble she knew they’d be on the next plane. They were good friends and they were sensible. They’d pick her up and bundle her home.

That was what she wanted right now, her friends, her dog, her own bed in her own small cottage. And yet… Somehow the events of the last twenty-four hours had made her feel that leaving was cowardly.

But right now cowardly seemed a good way to describe her. This room seemed almost designed to make her feel insignificant, with its massive size, its vast crimson and gold wall hangings, its casement windows looking almost all the way to Italy.

There was a knock at the door and she clenched her teeth so hard she thought she might break them. At least this time he’d had the decency to knock.

‘Yes?’

‘Anna.’

It wasn’t Victoir. Leo.

Surely she shouldn’t feel relief, but she did. The tension evaporated in such a rush that she couldn’t respond. She lay absolutely still.

‘Anna?’ She must be lying too still, too rigid. There was deep concern in his voice.

Leo…concerned for her…

It made her feel like her world was settling.

She was being dumb, she thought. It was this castle that was unnerving her, this creepy gothic setting, these vast, opulent living areas, this huge bedchamber.

But Leo was here. ‘Come in,’ she called, and finally she allowed herself to open her eyes and look.

Leo.

Not professional Leo either. He’d ditched the white coat. He was wearing faded jeans and a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and the top buttons undone. His hair was tousled, as if he’d been walking in the wind.

Once upon a time she’d thought…she’d dreamed…

No.

‘Hey,’ she said, and summoned a smile—and saw relief wash his face.

He’d been worried. Despite her confusion the thought was comforting.

‘You’re okay?’ he asked, the crease deepening between his eyes. Oh, those eyes…

‘Nothing a good sleep won’t fix.’ She gazed up at him and saw her own weariness reflected. ‘Same for you, I bet. What are you doing here?’

‘Checking up on you. Victoir knocked back the offer of a district nurse.’

‘I don’t need the district nurse.’ She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘How can I need anything in this room?’

‘I guess you don’t,’ he admitted. He gazed around the bedroom. ‘Great setting.’

‘It’s ridiculous,’ she muttered, and decided she needed to be a bit assertive. She needed to sound as if she was in charge of her world again.