Abigail Gordon - Spring Proposal In Swallowbrook

‘There is a self-contained flat above the garage,’ Hugo told her. ‘You can use that until tomorrow if you wish.’

The generosity of the offer made Ruby want to weep. The last thing she’d been looking forward to was trudging around the village with her flowery suitcase.

‘That would be fantastic,’ she told him gratefully.

He paused in the kitchen doorway and, as if he hadn’t been dismissive enough, said, ‘Let me know when you want to go across there and I’ll take you on a short guided tour.’

‘I’m ready now,’ she said meekly, keen to hide away from his reluctant hospitality.

‘OK. So go and sort out what food you want to take with you and I’ll bring your case down. The sooner you’re settled in there the better you’ll feel—even though it will only be for the one night.’

And the happier you will be on both counts, she thought . Count one because it is only for one night, and count two because you will have your privacy back. But you will still have to endure my presence at the surgery, Dr Lawrence, and you could be in for a surprise, as my sparkle has only been dimmed, not extinguished …

Hello Dear Reader.

Once again we meet the Doctors of Swallowbrook Farm Practice in my second book of the series. In the first we had Libby and Nathan’s story, and now we meet Ruby and Hugo who find a very special kind of love amongst the lakes and fells that surround a delightful village.

I do hope that you will enjoy reading about the doctors of this country practice once more, and maybe we will meet again in books three and four.

With very best regards

Abigail Gordon

ABIGAIL GORDONloves to write about the fascinating combination of medicine and romance from her home in a Cheshire village. She is active in local affairs, and is even called upon to write the script for the annual village pantomime! Her eldest son is a hospital manager, and helps with all her medical research. As part of a close-knit family, she treasures having two of her sons living close by, and the third one not too far away. This also gives her the added pleasure of being able to watch her delightful grandchildren growing up.

SWALLOWBROOK’S WINTER BRIDE**

SUMMER SEASIDE WEDDING†

VILLIAGE NURSE’S HAPPY-EVER-AFTER†

WEDDING BELLS FOR THE VILLAGE NURSE†

CHRISTMAS IN BLUEBELL COVE†

COUNTRY MIDWIFE, CHRISTMAS BRIDE*

A SUMMER WEDDING AT WILLOWMERE*

A BABY FOR THE VILLAGE DOCTOR*

** The Doctors of Swallowbrook Farm * The Willowmere Village Stories † Bluebell Cove

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

SpringProposal inSwallowbrook

Abigail Gordon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For a fellow writer,

my friend Daniel Constantinou, and his lovely family.

When Hugo Lawrence pulled into the drive of the house where he had lived for the last year and a half on a temporary basis it was a strange feeling to know that it was now his, and that those who had occupied it before had gone on to a new life.

The grey stone detached house, appropriately named Lakes Rise because it was in an elevated position above one of the biggest lakes in the area, had belonged to his widowed sister Patrice and her two young daughters.

Patrice had lost her husband Warren from an undiagnosed heart defect eighteen months previously and stricken with grief had been totally unable to cope, so much so that for the children’s sakes as much as anything he had moved from general practice in southern England to take up a similar position in the village of Swallowbrook where she lived, to keep a protective eye on the bereaved family.

Living with them day in day out, comforting and coping as he’d tried to lessen their insecurities and wipe away the tears that the loss of an adored husband and father had brought about had been a gruelling experience and caused him to take a long, hard look at the pain and sorrow that loving too much and too well could cause.

He and his sister had lost their parents when they were in their early teens and as the eldest Hugo had always been very protective of his young sister, often having to put his own life on hold over the years for her sake and never begrudging it.

Patrice’s happy marriage had given him five years’ respite from that crushing feeling of responsibility towards his sister, and now, with her recent move to Canada, he had begun to breathe easier once again. Not that he begrudged the time he’d spent helping her pick up the pieces, but at least now she had a fresh start to look forward to and he had his own place to start putting down some roots.

When Patrice had talked about putting the house up for sale he had said not to, that he would buy Lakes Rise. He loved the job and got on well with the other two doctors in the practice, and it was a very attractive property, but it was the lake nearby, breathtakingly beautiful beneath the towering fells, that attracted so many walkers and climbers and had him spellbound.

Now he couldn’t wait to unlock the door, go inside, and celebrate becoming a permanent resident of Swallowbrook with no strings attached.

A shower and a change of clothes, followed by a nice meal with a bottle of wine was what he had promised himself, and after that a good book or watching television. Then maybe to round off the evening a stroll down to The Mallard, the local pub, for a convivial chat with some of the friends he had made since moving here, and finally to bed in the spacious master bedroom of his new home with not a worry on his mind.

But first he wanted to unload the stuff he’d brought with him from his flat down south and stack the bulkier items in the garage for the time being. With that in mind he went round to the back of the car and was opening the boot when a woman’s voice hailed him from the bottom of the drive.

Daylight was turning into dusk but when he looked up he could see her beneath the light of a streetlamp. She was tall and slender and appeared to be quite young.

She seemed to be wearing a red cape of sorts with a hood, had black boots with incredibly high heels on her feet, and was holding onto the handle of a large flower-patterned suitcase that she must have been dragging along until she’d stopped on seeing him.

‘Could you help me, please?’ she asked in a voice so weary he was expecting her to cave in any second. ‘Would you happen to know where I can find Libby Gallagher of Lavender Cottage just along the road there? She doesn’t appear to be at home, and you are the first person I’ve seen to ask since getting off the train. Where is everyone?’

‘In the process of having their evening meal, I would imagine,’ he replied dryly. ‘The village will be lively enough later when the locals and visitors gather inside and outside the pub.’