Читать книгу Innocent Secret - Josie Metcalfe - Страница 7

‘DO YOU take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?’

Vicky Lawrence heard the time-honoured words drifting towards her, and with them knew that a dream that she’d treasured for nearly half of her life was finally over.

She’d loved Nick ever since she was twelve years old but he’d never looked at her the way he was looking at Frankie, the woman who was making her promises to him.

She didn’t begrudge him his happiness—how could she when the two of them looked as if they’d been made for each other?

Still, she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel a pang of regret for what might have been. She’d believed all her Christmases had come at once the day he’d proposed to her, and the months when she’d been busily planning their perfect wedding had been the happiest of her life.

She still didn’t know what had changed, or why, or even when. All she did know was that when Nick had sat her down with that serious look on his face and confessed that he wanted to break their engagement, she couldn’t have been more delighted.

It should have hurt to find out that he’d fallen passionately in love with a fellow GP working in the unit that was part of Denison Memorial Hospital. The fact that she knew and liked Frankie as a colleague should have made her feel betrayal, not gratitude.

Yet here she was, standing surreptitiously at the back of the room so that her presence wouldn’t cast a shadow over the proceedings, and she hardly felt a qualm.

She’d searched around inside her heart, almost like probing at a painful tooth with her tongue, and had barely raised an ache, but if she’d admitted as much to any of the people in the room they wouldn’t have believed her.

‘Are you all right?’ had been the most frequent question she’d heard over the last few weeks, accompanied by a look of such cloying pity that she’d wanted to scream.

‘I’m fine,’ she’d been saying with a bright smile when what she’d wanted to say had been, ‘I couldn’t be more delighted that Nick fell in love with Frankie because it saved me from making a monumental mistake.’

However, the world and his wife had cast her in the role of broken-hearted waif and wouldn’t look beyond to see that there was something far more important than Nick’s defection filling her mind.

‘Are you all right?’ murmured yet another voice as someone came to stand just behind her, and the soft burr of his Scottish accent told her who it was without needing to see him.

This time her reaction to the question was very different. This time the voice was the one that, over the last couple of months, had begun to fill her mind and heart with more desperate longing than she’d ever felt for Nick. She hadn’t realised that she’d had little more than an adolescent crush on her long-time hero until she’d learned about the real thing. There was no comparison.

‘I’m fine,’ she whispered over her shoulder, looking up almost six inches into the sombre, handsome face of GP Joe Faraday and straight into the changeable hazel of his eyes. It was her usual reply, honed over the last roller-coaster weeks and, as usual, she could tell that she hadn’t been believed.

Sometimes she didn’t even believe it herself. It wasn’t quite as easy as that to let go of something that had been the bedrock of her existence for half her life.

She took another long look at the handsome man now slipping a wedding ring on the finger of his petite new wife. She’d dreamed of him doing that to her one day, but he’d never have worn that same look of utter devotion as he did with Frankie, neither would he have thrown a cheerful smile of resignation at ten-year-old Katie’s whispered interruption.

She sighed, knowing that Nick was doing the right thing, knowing that they had both made the right decision.

Not that any amount of certainty was going to make the next few weeks any easier to bear. That was one of the penalties of living in such a place as Edenthwaite. It was a caring community with most of its members connected by blood or work, but that also meant that the world and his wife had heard at least one version of the story currently going the rounds.

Unfortunately, most of them were determined to see her in the role of jilted bride-to-be and were treating her as if she’d suddenly turned into eggshell porcelain.

Wondering just how long it would be before life returned to normal, she sighed again and was startled to feel the warm weight of a decidedly masculine arm encompass her shoulders.

‘We don’t have to stay,’ Joe murmured, his voice a deep rumble close to her ear that sent a sharp shiver of awareness right through her.

For a moment Vicky was lost in the sensation of quiet strength and concern, then the irony of the situation washed over her. This was Dr Joseph Faraday standing with his arm around her, the most reclusive man she’d ever met. Over the six months or so since she’d started work at Denison Memorial she didn’t think he’d glanced in her direction more than half a dozen times, even when they’d been on the ward together, and as for speaking…Even when she’d gone out of her way to help him in the aftermath of his injury it had been rather like dealing with a grumpy hedgehog.

‘We don’t have to?’ Had she heard right?

‘The invitation to the reception was informal,’ he reminded her. ‘If you’d prefer, we could have a meal somewhere other than Edenthwaite.’

For a moment Vicky was tempted, so very tempted. She’d been waiting for months for the man to notice her…really notice her. She’d never expected that the distance Joe maintained between himself and the rest of the world would be breached by her own apparent misfortune. And the informality of today’s celebrations was deliberate so that friends and fellow members of staff would be able to slot in their attendance around shift times.

‘I can’t,’ she murmured, hoping her frustration wasn’t too evident. She’d been trying to find a way through the barbed wire of Joe’s defences for so long and now she was going to have to turn him down. Or was she?

‘It was just a suggestion,’ he began, starting to withdraw, but she turned impetuously towards him, catching hold of his suit sleeve to stop him turning away.

‘Joe, don’t you see? I have to go, otherwise the gossips will have even more to talk about. But I don’t have to stay long.’

She had that prickly feeling that she was being watched. Past his broad shoulder she caught sight of several interested faces turned in their direction and wanted to groan. It wasn’t her imagination. Everyone seemed to be watching her every move. It felt almost as if she were living in a goldfish bowl.

‘Just long enough to show your face?’ he asked quietly, his expression somewhere between wary and understanding.

She nodded.

‘And then you can escape with a clear conscience?’

She nodded again and was gifted with a glimpse of a surprisingly mischievous smile.

‘In that case, let’s hope it’s a very short reception line,’ he muttered with a quick glower at two of the more inquisitive ladies sitting in front of them.

Vicky knew that their hushed conversation wouldn’t have carried to the pair—she and Joe were far too aware of the perils of unwary conversations to risk it. However, she had noticed that the pair seemed to have spent almost more time looking back at her and her companion than they had at Frankie and Nick.

Hopefully, they hadn’t been watching when he’d put his comforting arm around her shoulders. That was an unexpectedly sweet memory which she didn’t want tainted by any gossip.

‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ the registrar declared, the words breaking through her scrambled thoughts. Even though she knew everything had changed for the best, she’d been dreading this moment and found herself staring with an awful sort of fascination as Nick turned to Frankie and took her in his arms.

So eager, she thought with a strange little ache around her heart. He obviously didn’t need anyone to tell him that he could now kiss his new bride, and with such passion, too. When it had been her, he’d barely done more than brush her lips with his.

What would it be like to be kissed like that? To have a man pour his heart and soul into—?

‘Vicky?’ The deep voice at her elbow was accompanied by a gentle hand at her cheek, turning her to face him. His hazel eyes were dark with sympathy. ‘You don’t have to watch,’ he said softly. ‘No one would have blamed you if you hadn’t come at all. You could have made certain you were on duty instead.’

His gentle concern was like a balm to her spirits, reminding her that he didn’t know the real reason why she’d been willing to release Nick from his promise. Very few people did. Even Nick didn’t know the full story. To ease his conscience she’d had to tell him that she was falling in love with someone else, but had deliberately withheld the name of the man. That was something only she knew.

‘No, I couldn’t have stayed away,’ she said softly as bride and groom walked past them on their way out, closely followed by two ecstatic bridesmaids. ‘If I hadn’t come, it might have cast a shadow over their day, with people wondering where I was and if I was nursing a broken heart.’

‘So here you are with all flags flying, daring the gossips to do their worst.’

‘Not quite,’ she admitted with a shudder as they waited their turn to leave, grateful for the happy buzz of conversation that left them free to talk more easily. ‘It was bad enough when everyone was cooing over our engagement and wanting updates on the wedding preparations. To be honest, I’m dreading the reception.’

‘Not any more. Remember? We’re only staying long enough to say our congratulations and then we’re out of there.’

He took her hand and looped it over his arm in an almost courtly way as he ushered her out of the door. The sudden lift that the gesture gave to her spirits was something she hadn’t expected. It was almost as if he was making himself her escort…her protector.

‘This way, please,’ called a voice, and they turned simultaneously to find themselves caught in the flash of a photographer. ‘Lovely! Thank you,’ the young man called, and turned as if to pursue his next quarry.

Although the weather was dry and bright, March in Cumbria was still far too cold for a lengthy posing session and within ten minutes they were all on their way to the nearby hotel where the reception was being held.

Joe wasn’t happy.

There were far too many people in here for his liking, and as for the volume of noise…What it would be like by the time everyone had a drink or two inside them didn’t bear thinking about.

Over the last few years he’d grown accustomed to dealing with humanity on a one-to-one basis. The largest concentration was the shifting numbers of colleagues he might find in the staff lounge at the start of the day.

Joe was seriously tempted to cut and run but then the small hand she’d placed on his arm tightened its grip slightly—almost as if Vicky knew what he was contemplating—and he knew he couldn’t do that to her.

He knew she wasn’t really his responsibility. She was a native of the area after all, and should have plenty of family and friends who could keep her company.

Except she’d seemed determined to go through it alone.

He’d only intended sticking his nose through the door to say he’d been to the ceremony, but when he’d seen her standing all alone at the back of the room, so valiant in her solitude, something had prompted him to approach her.

It had been an uncharacteristic thing for him to do—he hadn’t been dubbed ‘that Scots recluse’ without cause—but there had been something about the stiff way she’d been holding her slender shoulders that told him she was suffering, and if there was one thing he understood…

Not that it was a hardship to spend time in her company. It wasn’t.

Vicky Lawrence was a bright, beautiful young woman with a natural inclination towards caring for people. It wasn’t even restricted to her nursing either. He’d been quite surprised by the way she’d insisted on spending time with him in the immediate aftermath of his recent shoulder injury.

Granted, the dislocation had caused a fair degree of trauma to the joint and the residual bruising was still restricting the range of movement. At first he’d believed that it had just been the fact that she’d been the first on the scene after the accident had happened that had sparked her interest. But that didn’t explain why she had still been volunteering to take over the more awkward household chores several days later.

There had been something far too intimate about the thought of beautiful young Vicky changing the sheets on his bed or sorting his laundry. He’d been relieved to tell her that his cleaner took care of those tasks, but he hadn’t been able to dissuade her from collecting his shopping or providing him with a fresh sling at intervals no matter how grumpy he’d been.

Now she needed a little support, although in her case it was emotional rather than practical. Still, if he looked on this interlude as some form of payback, it should make his penance easier to bear—that, and the prospect of leaving for a quiet meal as soon as they’d said their piece. It shouldn’t take long and the prospect of spending an hour or so in her company was something he could even look forward to.

Joe helped her out of her coat and folded it over his arm in preparation for a quick getaway then surprised himself by noticing the quiet elegance of the dark sapphire dress she wore. He wasn’t usually aware of women’s fashions but couldn’t help but see the way the fabric draped fluidly over her slender body, accentuating both her height and the unexpectedly mature curves usually hidden by her uniform.

What on earth was he doing? Ogling the poor girl when he was supposed to be keeping her company at a traumatic time? He dragged his eyes away to scan the room rapidly filling with smiling family and friends. Several were looking questioningly at the two of them standing together and that dratted photographer was already at it again, seemingly more fascinated with Vicky than the new bride. Still, he hoped no one had witnessed his lapse.

Not that fellow GP Jack Lawrence was looking any too pleased to see his little sister in his company, but divided loyalties would keep him out of their hair. As best man to his long-time friend Nick he would have little opportunity to take care of Vicky himself.

Anyway, it was only for one afternoon. He could bear the inquisitive glances and the whispers, knowing that they would soon be over.

What he wasn’t quite so sure of was whether he would want this enforced closeness to end.

There was something unexpectedly pleasant about being part of a couple again, even if it was just a temporary thing and just for appearances’ sake. It certainly couldn’t be anything more than that. The girl must be almost young enough to be his daughter, for heaven’s sake. What was she…twenty-one? Twenty-two? Impossibly young when compared to his own thirty-seven, even if he had been interested in any sort of a relationship.

No, today he would act as a buffer for her, and then tomorrow would be back to normal. He’d had his chance at happy-ever-after and for a while it had been everything he could have wished. He was resigned to his solitude now, no matter how much his body might appreciate Vicky’s charms.

‘Ready?’ he murmured with a slightly gruff edge to his voice. He was surprised and strangely pleased when she immediately took hold of his arm again, her hand feeling somehow right as it curved around the muscles of his forearm.

He heard her draw in a deep breath and blow it out in a steady stream, as though steadying herself for the ordeal ahead, then she looked up to meet his eyes.

‘Ready,’ she agreed with a determined nod and a tightening of her grip, and they set off towards the small group clustered around the newly-weds.

‘Congratulations, Nick,’ Joe said, shaking the man’s hand. He was determined to ignore the little voice that wondered whether he’d looked that happy on his wedding day.

‘I hope you’ll both be very happy,’ Vicky added with every semblance of meaning the words.

Joe found himself watching her closely as she spoke to Frankie for a moment, wondering if she was just very good at putting on a front. To his surprise, he couldn’t tell. Surely she should have been showing some animosity towards the woman who had stolen her fiancé’s affections? As far as he could tell, she seemed to genuinely like the other woman and really wished her well.

Surely she wasn’t that shallow? This was the girl who had pined after her older brother’s best friend for at least a dozen years, culminating in their fairy-tale engagement just a few months ago. Could she really switch off her feelings so quickly? Was she the sort of person who no longer wanted something once she had it in her grasp?

He didn’t like to think so, not when she’d been the only one to awaken the protective instincts that had lain dormant since he’d lost Celia.

Vicky turned to speak to Nick, and Joe thought he might have part of his answer. She was smiling and chatting with the ease of an old friend, but only he knew that her hand had tightened like a tourniquet around his arm.

He covered the slender fingers with his own, hiding the tension-whitened knuckles from view. Unfortunately Nick noticed and there was wary speculation in the glance that went from one face to the other and back to their joined hands.

Joe could hardly snatch his hand away, neither was this the time or the place to make explanations. All he could do was look the man in the eye and dare him to make anything of it. Only time would show that this was just a performance he and Vicky were putting on for the occasion.

Except…

There was something in Nick’s expression that gave him a jolt. Something that looked almost like approval when he looked from one to the other of them. Something that made Joe suddenly desperate to retreat as far and as fast as he could into the confines of his own safe world.

He wasn’t interested in a relationship, and that was the end of the matter.

It didn’t matter how attractive Vicky was—or any other woman for that matter. It didn’t matter how good it felt to have her hand wrapped around his arm, knowing that the contact was giving her the support she needed. It didn’t matter that he could smell the hint of flowers and musk drifting from her skin or that her long blonde hair was like spun gold against the dark fabric of his suit. It didn’t matter that the last hour had made him feel more alive than he had in several years and that he was actually looking forward to sharing a meal with her.

As the common idiom went, he’d been there and done that already, and had the scars on his heart to prove it.

He was just about to make their excuses when Frankie grabbed Nick’s arm, her face suddenly pale and clammy as she hurried towards the nearest bathroom.

‘Oops! Sorry, folks,’ Nick said with a slightly strained chuckle before he followed her. ‘Graphic illustration of the fact that morning sickness isn’t confined to mornings.’

The realisation that Frankie was already pregnant brought the swift stab of painful memories and Vicky’s hastily smothered gasp told Joe that she hadn’t known about the pregnancy either.

At least the spreading ripple of understanding laughter meant that people had overheard Nick’s devious way of announcing his impending fatherhood. That should take people’s minds off the fact that he and Vicky were leaving so soon.

‘I think that’s our signal to fade into the woodwork,’ he suggested quietly, but she didn’t say a word.

He escorted her towards the door, wondering why she suddenly felt so fragile beside him, and had to glare at the overzealous photographer when he wanted to take yet another picture of Vicky. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to have a camera pointed in her direction and Joe actually had the strange impression that if he moved too fast she might shatter into a thousand fragments.

Her movements were quite wooden as he helped her into her coat and she was moving almost like a sleepwalker as he ushered her out of the hotel and into his car.

He waited for her to fasten her seat belt but she just sat in the dark silence of the car, staring blindly out of the windscreen.

‘Vicky?’ he prompted. ‘Seat belt?’

‘Hmm?’ The expression she turned on him was somehow dazed and he had to repeat the reminder before she began to fumble her compliance.

‘Let me,’ he offered, speaking softly and moving slowly to take the catch from her, feeling as if he were dealing with an injured animal.

He wanted to take her hands in his and try to persuade her to talk about what had brought this on, but now was neither the time nor the place.

Knowing that any one of the people they’d just left could emerge from the hotel to see them sitting together in his car, he started the engine and set off out of the car park.

Obviously they were going to have to abandon the idea of going out for a meal. Vicky wasn’t in any fit state to cope with the niceties of public dining. The only option was to take her home, but whose?

It wasn’t far to the place where he’d had his painful run-in with the escaped bullocks and, just past it, the fork in the road that demanded a decision.

One way led to the renovated farm labourer’s cottage she’d told him about when she’d been trying to distract him from the pain of his dislocated shoulder; the other led to the small stone-built farmhouse which was more a refuge than a home to him.

The thought of inviting anyone into his safe haven made him uncomfortable, but the thought of delivering Vicky to a solitary evening felt equally wrong.

Anyway, he temporised as he accelerated away from her turning, she needed to eat and he had no idea what she’d have in her kitchen. At least he knew his fridge could supply the essentials, thanks to Vicky’s persistence. And there was a wry, pleasing irony that he would be feeding her with the food she’d chosen and bought for him.

‘We’re here, Vicky,’ he said as he pulled into the small enclosed yard to one side of the house.

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t comment but his understanding turned to concern when she didn’t react when he opened the door beside her.

The harsh brilliance of the safety light, activated by their arrival, flooded the interior of the car and painted its silent inmate with unforgiving accuracy.

She looked as perfect as a marble statue, but when had marble statues ever had silvery tears trickling down their cheeks?

‘Come on, Vicky. Out you get,’ he encouraged as he reached across her to release her seat belt. He had to stretch his shoulder some way beyond what was comfortable to reach it, but that hardly mattered when Vicky was in such misery.

She didn’t even seem to realise that she was crying as he let them into the house through the back door which took them straight into the kitchen.

It wasn’t the first time that he’d been grateful for the enveloping warmth of the Aga cooker. He didn’t even bother taking her coat off as he grabbed a chair and settled her in it as close as possible to the warmth.

For just a moment he stood there looking at her, feeling completely at a loss.

He hardly knew the woman, for heaven’s sake. What on earth was he supposed to do or say to help her, to bring her out of this?

‘Tea,’ he muttered, reaching for the kettle and putting it on the hob to boil. ‘If in doubt make a pot of tea.’

He was out of his depth here, and didn’t mind admitting it. The psychiatry he’d learned during his training was enough to tell him that Vicky’s mental state was no steadier than her physical one. All he could think to do was bury himself in the familiar ritual of pouring milk into the waiting mugs while he waited for the tea to steep.

Did she take sugar? He didn’t even know her well enough for that small detail, had never bothered to notice such a thing when they’d been in the same room. Whether she did or not, she was having some. She was borderline shocky and the sugar boost would give her body something to fight with.

‘Here.’ He crouched beside her chair and wrapped her icy hand around the chunky handle. ‘It’s hot, but see if you can sip it.’

She barely acknowledged him and the way those silent tears continued to slide down her cheeks, one after another, caused something unfamiliar to tighten inside his chest.

‘Please, Vicky.’ Joe reached up to cup one damp cheek in his hand and turned her to face him. ‘Please, drink some of the tea. You need it.’

As though waking from a nightmare, she focused on his face and blinked, almost as if surprised to see him there.

‘Joe?’

He’d never heard her voice sounding so lost and alone. He might not join in with the banter that usually characterised any gathering of staff at Denison Memorial, but he couldn’t help having noticed that this strikingly beautiful young woman had a bright bubbly personality to match. It almost hurt to see her looking so…so defeated.

‘Drink,’ he urged, cupping one hand around hers where she held the steaming mug in a white-knuckled grip and lifting it towards her mouth.

‘Don’t.’ With a shake of her head she resisted, her brows drawing into a frown as she tried to pass the mug to him. ‘I don’t need that. I need to know…’

She had to pause when her lips began to quiver uncontrollably. He saw her press them firmly together and heard the deep breath she drew and held as she fought for control.

‘What do you need?’ he asked gently. ‘Is it something I can get for you? Something to eat?’ He wasn’t a brilliant cook but anything short of cordon bleu and he’d give it a go if it would take that expression out of her eyes.

She shook her head. ‘Oh, Joe, it’s nothing like that,’ she said with a hitch in her voice. ‘I just need to know why.’

‘Why?’ And he’d thought he’d been all at sea before. She’d completely lost him now. ‘You mean, why did Nick marry Frankie? But you know—’

‘Not that,’ she broke in almost impatiently. ‘I know he married her because they fell in love. Because he loved her more than he ever loved me…’

‘Ah, Vicky, don’t do this to yourself,’ he begged, feeling panic-induced sweat prickling between his shoulder-blades.

He really didn’t want to be having this conversation. What did he know about what she was going through? He and Celia had met in their teens and there had never been anyone else for either of them, right up to the day she’d died.

‘No, Joe, I need to know,’ she insisted with a spark of her former energy. ‘I know we both did the right thing to call off our wedding and I really hope they’re happy but…but I need to know what’s wrong with me.’

‘Wrong with you?’ he said, more lost than ever. Would he ever unravel the Gordian knot of a woman’s thought processes? ‘But there’s nothing wrong with you.’

‘There must be,’ she said adamantly, with a sad droop to a mouth now bare of any lipstick. ‘Otherwise I’d be the one expecting his baby rather than Frankie.’

‘You…’ He gave up. Did she want to be pregnant? Surely not, without a marriage in her near future. With her engagement so recently broken she wouldn’t even have a close relationship to rely on.

‘He’s only known Frankie for a matter of weeks, Joe,’ she barrelled on suddenly, as though the words and the emotions behind them wouldn’t be contained any longer. ‘They’re married now, but they obviously didn’t bother to wait before they went to bed because she’s already expecting his baby. So what was wrong with me? He was engaged to me for nearly six months and he never gave me anything more than a kiss and a hug.’