Annie O'Neil - Doctor...to Duchess?

“Anybody home?”

Julia felt a tremble of excitement play at her fingertips at the sound of Oliver’s voice.

Don’t let him rattle you! Put your best foot forward. Kill him with kindness.

“Just coming!” Julia called down the corridor as she flicked on the power switches in the small X-ray room. If she could just exhale all the mean thoughts she’d been thinking, she just might manage to greet Oliver with a winning smile.

One foot round the corner and her ambition flew out the window. The inscrutable look on Oliver’s face as he took in the time-worn reception area made her heart sink. Scruffy or not, she loved it here—avocado-colored carpet and all.

“Looks like the old place is still in need of a facelift, eh? I don’t think it’s changed since I was a kid.”

Julia met Oliver’s sardonic smile with what she hoped was a steely gaze. In reality, she was sure he could see the question marks pinging across her face. Good thing he couldn’t feel her pulse rate rising in exactly the way it shouldn’t be. Thanks a lot, blushing cheeks! You are relegated to the Turncoat Department!

Oliver had the rugged, outdoorsy looks she’d always had a penchant for. Matt had been blond, buff and as “SAS poster boy” as they came. Of course, her husband had been attractive, but there was something almost primitive in the way she found herself responding to Oliver. No doubt about it, he was a top ranker on the masculinity scale. If anyone could make wire-rimmed glasses sexy, here was the guy. They leaned a studied air to his face, framed by that untamable black hair curling ever so slightly over his collar. His tweed jacket, complete with elbow patches, hung perfectly from his shoulders—the starting point of a lean physique. His long-fingered hands were obviously accustomed to hard graft. In short, he was not your typical la-de-dah heir apparent.

Pity.

It’d be easier to dislike him if he was a pale-faced, smarmy-eyed, snooty aristocrat. She turned on her heel and headed toward the X-ray room. Ogling him was going to get her nowhere.

“Funny you mention it.” Be brave, Julia. “The clinic gets so much use from all of the villagers, it really would be a treat for them to have a cheerier reception center.”

“Did you earn enough from your event today to cover the costs?”

Ah. She knew that tone. The “expressing idle curiosity with an agenda” thing. Apparently, those Indiana Jones looks were masking an inner reptilian nature. No problem. She could do cold-blooded as well as the next person.

“Probably.” She opted for a bright and cheery tone. “Although I expect the money we raised would be better put to use on medical supplies.” Snap!

“That’s wise. People don’t take much to change here.”

Julia didn’t risk a look back over her shoulder. Had he been patronizing her or complimenting her pragmatism? Maybe it was something deeper, something related to his childhood. There had to be something keeping him thousands of miles away from this beautiful nook in the world. Either way, she needed to stop taking things so personally. Each word he spoke was chinking away at her usually cool-as-a-cucumber exterior. Or was it those green eyes of his? The ones she wanted to stare into a bit more. See how the colors changed …

Blink them away, Julia! Eyes on the prize, not on Oliver Wyatt.

“You’ve switched things round. Shouldn’t these be exam rooms?”

“Yes, they were. Traditionally .” She emphasized the word to let him know she was aware he, too, seemed to fall into the “people who don’t like change” category. “I’ve turned one into a … Well …” She faltered, wanting to choose the right turn of phrase.

“Dr. MacKenzie? Is that you?”

Julia gratefully slipped into the hospice room at the call.

“Hello there, Dr. Carney. Everything all right?”

“Yes, dear. Yes. I was just wondering how your Mud Day, or whatever you call it, went?” Julia’s heart melted as she put a hand on Dr. Carney’s wrist, taking a discreet check of his pulse. He was a dear man and just the reason the fund-raising was so important. Had it not been for a stage-four diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, she was sure he would’ve been out cheering at the finish line with the rest of the crowd. As things stood, she had a very quiet arrangement with the duke to handle the lifelong bachelor’s care. She smiled at the memory of the duke making her cross her heart and promise never to tell Dr. Carney—or Oliver—of the supplementary funding. It wasn’t a bottomless purse—but it helped.

“Dr. Carney? It’s me—Oliver.”

Julia stiffened as she felt Oliver approach then relaxed as Dr. Carney’s eyes grew wide with delight.

“Oh, if it isn’t little Jolly Ollie!”

Was that a grimace of embarrassment she saw? Ooh, this was going to be fun.

“Jolly Ollie, is it?” Julia smiled gleefully. “I say, Dr. Carney—pray do tell more.”

She raised a protesting hand as the frail man tried to push himself up into a seated position and failed.

“Let me help.” She reached for his mattress sheet then, remembering she only had one good hand, thought better of making the shift on her own. “Sorry, uh, Jolly Ollie? Would you mind grabbing the other side of the sheet, please?” She glanced up at Oliver’s unreadable expression. Too much?

“It’s my pleasure, Peculia’ Julia.”

Zap! And the man fights back! So he could be playful. Good to know. And a handy reminder to take a quick glance in the medicine-cabinet mirror. It sounded like her clean-up efforts hadn’t been very successful.

As they repositioned Dr. Carney, Julia’s brow furrowed. What exactly did she know about Oliver? Trauma surgeon. Residency at an inner-city hospital before he’d flown the coop entirely for some serious globetrotting with the Flying Doctors and the Red Cross. Rumored to want to be anywhere but here in St. Bryar. Not what you’d expect from a titled gentleman who would be inheriting a vast estate and a sprawling country pile.

Then again, none of the tearoom gossip told her what actually made him tick. A man in the army could be a general but that didn’t describe who he really was at heart. She’d have to work her chit-chat magic to see what she could come up with.

“What brings you back from—Africa, was it, this time?”

Excellent. Dr. Carney was going to do her investigative work for her.

“Thought I’d help the old man keep his chess game up to par.” Oliver said it jokingly but Julia could see there was true affection in his words.

“Good, for you, son.” Dr. Carney patted Oliver’s hand gently. “Mustn’t let us old codgers waste away to nothing without a good round of chess to keep us in check—”

“Mate,” Oliver finished, and the pair smiled at what was obviously an old ritual. Julia took a few steps back as Oliver sat himself down on the side of Dr. Carney’s bed, holding the sick man’s thin hand in his own. “May I take that as a challenge?”

“Of course you may, Ollie. But I’d get your date in the diary fairly sharpish.”

Oliver shot an enquiring look at Julia. It told her he knew what the words meant as well as she did: Dr. Carney didn’t have long to live. The last time they’d made the journey down to the hospital in Manchester, the prognosis had been dire: three months, maximum. That had been a month ago. From the look on Oliver’s face, she already knew it would be difficult news to pass on.

“You can bet on it, Dr. Carney. It’s time I showed my mentor how much I’ve learned.”

“And the gauntlet is thrown!”

Julia felt the sting of tears tease at her nose as the two men continued to spar. Why did she always have to be so sentimental? Then again, it was plain to see the pair were extremely fond of each other. She hated that Dr. Carney was ill and hoped to heaven Oliver saw why being able to offer hospice care to lifelong residents like Dr. Carney was just one of the things she’d like to put in place to help the community.