Anne Fraser - The Firebrand Who Unlocked His Heart

Daniel grinned at her and for a second she thought her heart had stopped beating.

‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ she said and sought the refuge of her bedroom. She closed the door and leaned against it. Look , she told herself, firmly, he’s only a man in a fancy suit, even if he does have a heartbreaking smile. God, God, God. Where had the last thought come from?

She set about packing her weekend bag, forcing herself to concentrate on remembering everything. Slippers? Check. Clothes, including clean underwear? Check. Toiletries? She’d pick them up from the bathroom on her way out. What else? Did a person need a passport to travel on a private plane?

She poked her head out of the door. Daniel had made himself comfortable on one of her chairs and was flicking through The Bride magazine, an incredulous look on his face.

‘Do I need my passport?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Er … Dublin isn’t part of the UK, if you remember?’

Colleen slammed the door shut. Now he’d think her an idiot too! By the time they got to London, he’d probably have decided to employ someone else. But why should she think that? He was interested in her for her professional skills—not interviewing her as a potential wife!

Once her bag was packed, she looked in the mirror to check her hair. She was pale with dark smudges under her eyes, but there was nothing she could do about that. Sleep was what she needed. In her feverish haste to pack her bags so that she could get Daniel out of her flat her hair had come loose from its braid and wisps were falling into her eyes. She grabbed her hair brush and redid the plait, making sure every last one of her unruly locks was contained. Then she added a slick of lipstick and she was ready. Or as ready as she’d ever be. For once she wished she had listened to Trish on one of their many futile shopping expeditions—at least as far as Trish was concerned—and had bought a dress she could have worn. Something that would give her confidence.

Daniel got to his feet when she came back out of her bedroom with the slow indolence of a lion waking up from a sleep.

‘I just have to get my wash bag and I’m ready,’ she said.

He took her overnight bag from her hand. ‘Let’s go, then.’

Daniel slid a look at Colleen as they were driven towards the airport. She wasn’t anything like he’d expected.

When she’d turned Haversham down he’d been shocked. No one had ever refused to do something for Daniel before. And the salary—one most people would have found it hard to refuse—hadn’t made the slightest difference. Her refusal had made him more determined to secure her services than he’d been before. And he’d been keen then. Especially after the ringing endorsement her old consultant at Guy’s had given her. ‘She’s a tiger,’ he’d said, ‘and she never gives up. Don’t let that innocent face fool you. What Colleen wants, she gets. Nothing and no one stands in the way of Colleen McCulloch when it comes to what is best for her patients. She’s not always conventional, but she’s always right. That’s what makes her special.’

Somehow he’d imagined the redoubtable Nurse McCulloch, whom everyone he’d spoken to had praised to the sky, to look older, to be more severe. Instead she looked like a teenager with her curls escaping from its elastic band and falling in wisps over her face that she constantly and ineffectually tried to tuck back in. He liked the way her mouth turned up at the corners as if in a permanent smile, even the way her eyes flashed when she was annoyed about something. He’d even liked the way her flat looked. Okay, some might say that it looked as if the occupant had been fighting with a pack of wild animals that had found their way into her home, but there was a good feeling about her small flat with its bunches of wild flowers arranged haphazardly in jam jars. It reminded him somehow of his mother’s holiday home in Dorset. The memory made his stomach clench. That cottage had been Eleanor and Harry’s home until the accident. Now his son was lying in a hospital bed, unaware that his mother had died and that all he had left was a father whom he barely knew.

Daniel stole another look at Colleen. He was more determined than ever to have her as Harry’s nurse. He hoped to hell she lived up to her reputation.

SO THIS was how the other half lived? Colleen thought, looking around the interior of the plane. If she were honest, a tiny little bit of her was impressed. Only a minuscule bit, mind. The other part of her felt slightly ridiculous having the attentions of a stewardess all to themselves on the tiny, if luxurious, twin-propped plane. And ridiculously under-dressed in her boy jeans and T-shirt, carrying nothing but an imitation designer handbag over her shoulder.

Almost as soon as they’d taken off, Daniel had taken out some papers and a laptop. Once she’d had a good look around and got over the excitement of being on a private plane—and she couldn’t pretend for the life of her that she wasn’t—even if it might make her look like a country bumpkin in Daniel’s eyes—she’d fallen asleep.

She’d only woken when Daniel had bent over her and whispered that they were landing and she needed to fasten her seat belt. For a moment when she’d opened her eyes, she couldn’t remember where she was. She’d been having a lovely dream. A dream where she was behind someone on a horse and they were galloping off somewhere. As she stared groggily into Daniel’s eyes, she realised with a guilty start that the person on the horse hadn’t been Ciaran. It had been someone with green eyes—the man looking down at her, in fact.

She had hidden her embarrassment by escaping to the small onboard toilet and splashing her face with cold water.

When they were escorted through Heathrow airport and towards a sleek, black, stretch limousine. Colleen noticed people nudging each other, puzzlement etched on their faces as they tried to place them. Daniel with his snazzy suit and air of confidence had to be someone famous and as for Colleen, she must be some pop or film star—someone of importance—surely under-dressing to fool the media?

The thought made her smile. She might as well enjoy her moment in the limelight—it was probably the only one she would have until her wedding day.

They sat in silence as they were driven to the hospital. Daniel had his laptop out again and was deeply immersed in whatever he was reading. She’d never met anyone quite so focused on the task in hand before. One minute his attention was completely concentrated on making her do what he wanted, the next minute he was totally engrossed in whatever was on that laptop of his. She simply couldn’t make him out. But it was his son that concerned her. How badly had his brain been injured? What was his prognosis? She wouldn’t take this job unless she was sure she could help him.

Whizzing along the motorway seeing London city silhouetted in the distance, Colleen felt a thrill of excitement. She’d always planned to come back to London, but somehow the opportunity had never arisen. Ciaran wasn’t the adventurous type. He always said that he didn’t see the point in travelling to foreign places when you had everything you needed on your own doorstep.

Although she’d never admit it to Trish, sometimes Colleen longed for a bit more excitement. Was she just being foolish for secretly wanting Ciaran to whisk her away to Paris for a weekend? As he’d said, it’d be a waste of money when they needed every penny to get their house finished before the wedding. But a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

The car swung sharply to the right, pulling up outside the familiar buildings of Guy’s, the hospital where Colleen had trained. She knew from what he’d told her that Harry had been in ITU before being transferred to the high-dependency unit and then to the paediatric ward.