The Doctor's Marriage Page 2

  The position at Mt Pryde had seemed everything she’d dreamed of. Her interview had gone well and, because she’d retained her maiden name, her paper-work had given no indication of her married state. But, as it had happened, the interviewing panel had automatically assumed her single status and hadn’t asked any awkward questions.

  And when she was told she’d got the job, she was ridiculously pleased. Her first reaction was to tell Riley—but, of course, he wasn’t in the picture any more. Couldn’t have cared less, if the truth be known.

  He’d made his decision and she’d made hers…

  CHAPTER TWO

  JANE’S terrible misgivings about her husband’s imminent arrival in Mt Pryde kept her awake half the night. Would he seek her out here at home? she fretted. Or would they have to confront one another at the surgery on Monday?

  One step at a time, she cautioned herself, even though the nerves in her stomach were telling her a whole different story.

  She made porridge for breakfast, a hangover from her student days, when a large packet of rolled oats was much cheaper and possibly more nourishing than the big-brand-name cereals.

  ‘You’ve got some funny little ways, Dr Rossiter,’ Riley had said more than once during the first heady days of their marriage. He’d made it sound endearing rather than critical. But, then, four years on, when she’d wanted a baby, he’d changed and their marriage had begun to unravel as quickly as a coil of rope thrown over the side of a tall building.

  She sank onto the pine kitchen chair, aware of the faint trembling in her fingers as she picked up her spoon and began to make milky inlets in her bowl of porridge.

  Eating her breakfast almost mechanically, she felt her mind swept with yearnings, impossible fantasies of Riley’s arms around her, the strength of his male body cradling her at night. She shook them off. When he’d left, they’d been poles apart, wanting such different things from their relationship. Why should his return have changed anything?

  She made a sound of self-disgust, swinging up from her chair. It was crazy, allowing herself to become locked in this kind of introspection. She needed to be busy. Rinsing her breakfast dishes quickly, she took off outside to the garden, thinking the almost-jungle was enough to keep her busy for years.

  The smell in the air was simply glorious, she mused, bending to turn on the sprinkler, sending a dazzling spray up into the sunlight and across the beds of petunias and Livingstone daisies. Encouraged by a flurry of wind, two huge leaves of brown and gold fluttered at her feet.

  She worked on for an hour and then decided she’d had enough, stripping off her gloves and flexing her fingers thankfully. But there was still one more job she had to do. The lower hinge on the lattice gate of the fernery was hanging by a thread.

  Making a small sigh of resignation, Jane inspected her meagre supply of tools, finally selecting two screwdrivers. Surely one of them would do the job. Squatting beside the gate, she began to work on replacing the screw. ‘Oh, blast!’ she muttered, as the recalcitrant bit of metal fell sideways on the ground.

  ‘What are you trying to do?’

  Jane stiffened, her stomach lurching sideways as the pair of strong leather boots impinged on her vision. ‘What does it look like?’ She took refuge in attack, completely unprepared for the avalanche of emotion that engulfed her as the hard-muscled figure of her husband hunkered down beside her.

  ‘Here, give it to me.’ Riley held out a long-fingered hand.

  Jane took a shallow breath, slapping the screwdriver into his palm like a surgical instrument. She jerked upright, her eyes fixed on his broad shoulders under the navy polo shirt as they flexed to give his arms more impetus, putting the last, locking twist on the large metal screw.

  In one fluid movement, he uncurled upwards beside her, his dark gaze running the length of the timber gate. ‘That top one looks none too secure either.’ He frowned, fingering the rusty metal dubiously.

  ‘Oh, leave it,’ Jane dismissed brusquely. ‘I’ll get Greg on to it.’

  ‘Greg?’ Riley’s dark eyes snapped with suspicion.

  Jane was tempted to let him stew, to think what he liked, but relented. ‘Greg’s the teenage son of one of my patients. He does some gardening for me.’

  ‘You should be wearing a hat.’

  Her studied cool was shattered when Riley reached out, stroking his middle finger along the curve of her cheek. She felt her skin dissolve into goose-bumps, the familiar scent of his cologne drifting to her on her every breath.

  ‘Surely you’ve seen enough skin damage in your surgery to alert you to the results of over-exposure to our harsh sunlight?’

  ‘I’m wearing sunblock.’ Jane pulled back abruptly. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

  His eyes tangled with hers. ‘I’m not really hungry.’

  ‘Coffee, then?’ Jane licked suddenly dry lips, sensing the tension in him, the obvious self-control he was exerting not to take the final step that would bring their bodies into warm physical contact. ‘Riley?’ her voice repeated huskily.

  He shovelled a hand through the darkness of his hair and sighed. ‘I guess so—if there’s nothing else on offer.’

  Jane shot him a look that should have killed him stone dead. Then, wheeling, she led the way along the path into the kitchen.

  Switching on the coffee maker, she got mugs down from the cupboard. Her hands felt as though they belonged to someone else. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Riley, his hands in the back pockets of his chinos, as he prowled the kitchen-cum-dining room which ran the whole width of the back of the cottage. She bit her lips together and thought how sad and awful it was that, like strangers, they had offered no real greeting to one another.

  The few surreptitious glances she’d been able to direct at him confirmed that physically he hadn’t changed except that he looked older somehow, harder. And she’d noticed a sprinkling of silver amongst the thick mahogany richness of his hair. With its usual tendency to spiral down onto his forehead, it couldn’t help but draw attention to his dark eyes. Eyes that could soften with tenderness and just as easily become broodingly watchful.

  She swallowed unevenly, absorbing the sensual jolt of seeing him again. They’d lost a year, a year they should have spent together. It would be Riley’s thirty-ninth birthday in a few weeks. Jane wondered if they’d have anything to celebrate when it came round…

  ‘Nice place,’ Riley remarked, pulling out a chair and sitting at the pine table. ‘Have you bought it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her head bent, Jane placed a plate with some slices of fruit cake on the table in front of him.

  He laughed shortly. ‘I noticed you have the mandatory mango tree and roses round the door to complete the picture.’

  ‘You make it sound like a crime.’ Jane felt her nerve-ends stretching to their fragile limits. She brought the tray of coffee to the table, set it down and poured. ‘Still black with one?’

  Riley scrubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘Ah—yes, thanks. It smells great.’

  Jane crumbled a piece of cake, making a pretence of eating it, but every tiny crumb seemed to lodge in her throat. Riley seemed just as ill at ease. Oh, lord, they couldn’t go on like this. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘Well, certainly not from any communication from you.’

  Jane’s fingers gripped convulsively on the handle of her mug. ‘We were talked out, Riley. I had nothing left to say.’

  He lifted a shoulder, as if ignoring her comment. ‘I called Carol,’ he said briefly.

  Her mother. Jane’s eyes were cast down. She should have known he would. Her mother thought the sun shone out of her son-in-law’s— ‘How fortunate there was a job here for you.’

  ‘Hell’s teeth, Jane,’ he grated. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about some bloody job! I want to know where we stand.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘No, not just like that.’ His voice sounded strained. He eyed her across the rim of his mug, shocked at how swiftly and completely hi
s desire for her had leapt back. He’d almost forgotten just how achingly lovely she was.

  ‘You’re very tanned,’ she said awkwardly.

  ‘The tropics kind of do that to you.’ He reached out to imprison her restless hand, covering it with his own dry palm. His thumb began chafing her knuckles gently. ‘You look terrific, Janey.’

  Her eyes flew up to meet his, the look in them sending her heart lurching sideways. ‘Riley.’ She swallowed uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know what I’m expected to say here, but surely you didn’t expect to just walk in and take up where we left off?’

  He snorted. ‘Fighting, you mean?’

  ‘No!’ she said tautly, pulling her hand out from under his. ‘We can’t go back to that. We have to move forward. Whether we do that together or alone is down to us—and how much we want this marriage.’

  ‘Is that how you see it?’ He sat back rocking the spoon in the sugar bowl, his eyes broodingly intent on his task. There was an ache the size of a Mack truck inside him. He must have been crazy to think they could be reconciled in just one short meeting. He swallowed heavily. ‘There’s just one thing I’d ask of you, Jane.’

  She drew in her breath sharply, and suddenly it was in the air between them. The need, the awareness.

  The memories.

  For a split second Jane was conscious of wanting him so badly she could willingly have thrown good sense to the four winds.

  He reached for her hand again, running his thumb across her fingertips. ‘At any time, if you think it’s over for you, will you tell me?’

  She looked away choking on the intensity of her feelings. ‘Damn you, Riley…’

  ‘Jane, look at me. Please…’

  She did, but slowly, unable to ignore the appeal in his voice.

  ‘I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,’ he said quietly.

  ‘They’re just words, Riley.’ Jane was staggered at his easy rationale. ‘You left me!’

  ‘No!’ Riley let her hand go to aim an admonishing finger at her. ‘There’s a subtle difference here, Dr Rossiter. I didn’t leave you—you wouldn’t come with me!’

  Dear God, they were back exactly to where they’d been a year ago. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the gist of the conversation any longer. ‘Look, Riley…’ She gripped her mug with both hands, her fingers interlocking around the smooth pottery. ‘This situation between us isn’t going to be solved in a day or a week or even a month. For the present, we have to deal with the fact of working together again.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘I’m aware of that.’

  ‘So, how do we handle it, then? Should we tell everyone at the practice we’re married but…estranged?’

  ‘That’s an awful expression!’ he said, his dark eyes becoming flint-like.

  ‘Well, what would you suggest?’

  He lifted a shoulder. ‘Tell them what you like.’

  ‘Thanks for nothing!’ Jane swung to her feet and began gathering up their used crockery.

  Gushing water and detergent into the sink, she began dunking everything in one fell swoop. Then, with her hands twisting angrily, she rinsed and clattered the dishes into the nearby drainer.

  ‘Janey…’

  She felt his hands at her waist, heard his voice ripe with emotion. ‘If you can’t say something constructive, Riley, don’t say anything,’ she said tightly.

  ‘All right. I would rather our relationship remain private until we decide otherwise.’

  She nodded, tearing off a strip of paper towel and drying her hands, reflecting that in a rural community like Mt Pryde nothing remained private for very long but they’d cross that particular bridge when they had to. ‘That’s fine with me. Do you have everything you need at the flat?’

  ‘Everything but you.’

  She turned in his arms, to find his smile wry and crooked and all too endearingly familiar. A shaken breath came up from her toes. ‘Let’s just take things a day at a time, shall we?’

  ‘Sounds very practical and Jane-like.’ Trapping her hands, he held them in front of him against his chest.

  Jane swallowed dryly, fighting against the intimacy and an equally disturbing need for the comfort of his arms. She shivered convulsively as her body remembered his.

  Riley’s gaze never left her face as he lifted her hands and pressed tiny, open kisses across her knuckles. ‘Is there still a chance for us, Janey?’ he asked softly.

  She blinked, recognising sickeningly the sweep of blatant desire that ran through her. Perhaps there was. But they had such a long way to travel. Would they both have given up long before the long journey came to its end?

  When Riley let her go, she fought for calm. Gripping the bench behind her, she said quickly, ‘Why don’t I take you for a spin around the district? Show you the parameters of our Mt Pryde practice? The scenery is lovely.’

  Riley stepped back, looking at her bravely held little chin, the soft curve of her cheek, the sweet fullness of her mouth. His gaze lifted to her silver grey eyes, so pale they were almost transparent, as though they were windows to what was going on in her mind. Fat chance. His jaw tightened.

  ‘I’ll risk it if you will,’ he agreed, a small, rueful twist to the smile he gave her. ‘But not in your Metro. I won’t see much with my knees stuck under my chin. Let’s be comfortable and take my Land Rover, shall we?’

  Jane looked surprised. ‘You’ve got rid of the Jag?’

  ‘New job, new vehicle,’ he dismissed with a shrug. ‘Now, say I come back in an hour?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘That should give me enough time to unpack.’

  A tiny frown touched Jane’s forehead. He couldn’t

  have brought much with him if it was going to take him only an hour to unpack. A feeling of guilt ambushed her out of nowhere. ‘If there’s anything you need…’ She waved a hand, encompassing the four walls. ‘I brought everything we own with me. So, if there’s anything, don’t hesitate to—’ ‘The flat seems fine.’ He lifted a shoulder indifferently. ‘I don’t need much these days—just my clothes and laptop really.’ He brushed a hand across his eyes. ‘I left a bit of stuff with my folks on the way through. I’ll shoot back down to Brisbane if I need it.’

  ‘You’ve seen your parents?’

  ‘Of course.’ His dark eyes traced her features one by one, then flicked back to lock with hers, their expression watchful.

  ‘I just thought…’ Her shoulders twitched. ‘How long have you been back in Australia?’

  ‘A couple of weeks.’

  And he hadn’t tried to see her until now? Despite all his fine words, it certainly didn’t sound like he’d been in any hurry to resurrect their marriage. Perhaps his show of commitment earlier had been just that—a show. Was he still working to his own agenda?

  ‘Do you know if there’s any linen at the flat?’

  His sharp question brought her back to earth with a thud. ‘There is, but not much. Hang on.’ She backed away, her eyes wary. ‘I’ll get you some.’

  Riley looked hungrily after her, his gaze lingering on the smooth curve of her bottom under the tight Lycra gym shorts. Sighing for things past, he wandered across to the wooden divider that separated the kitchen from the dining area.

  There were framed photos in each of the little nooks. A couple of them he hadn’t seen before but there was one he remembered only too well—it was of their wedding.

  Jane had worn a simple white dress with no veil. There had been tiny flowers in her hair instead. She’d carried one long-stemmed beautiful rose. They hadn’t wanted a lot of fuss—just something unique and lovely. She hadn’t even wanted a conventional wedding ring. Instead, she’d chosen a wide, filigree gold band she wore on her middle finger.

  His mouth compressed, seeing himself in the casual open-necked shirt and grey waistcoat. They’d been married in the garden of his parents’ home—his home, too, until he’d become an intern and had lived in at the hospital. His throat constricted as he swallowed. It seemed like ancient history now, he
and Jane looking into each other’s eyes, their love clearly visible…

  He heard her footfall behind him and hastily put the picture back in its place.

  ‘There you are.’ Jane dumped the pile of linen into his outstretched arms. ‘What are you going to do about meals?’

  His dark brows peaked. ‘I’ll cook, of course.’

  She huffed a dry laugh. ‘You never cooked, Riley, in the whole time we were married.’

  He grinned a little off-centre. ‘I’ve since learned. I had to take my turn as part of our living arrangements with MSF. One of the nurses took pity on me and showed me a few basic survival skills. These days I get by quite nicely in the kitchen.’

  ‘I see.’ Jane blinked and stepped back. Was he telling her he got by in the other components of his life as well?

  ‘I’ll, um, see you in a bit, then?’ He moved towards the door.

  ‘Riley?’ Jane took a steadying breath and met his questioning gaze as he turned. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, her heart crashing against her ribs. ‘Will you do the same for me?’

  He shook his head slightly and a thin smile edged his mouth. ‘Teach you to cook?’

  ‘No.’ She licked her lips, scraping up her ragged defences. ‘Will you tell me as well if you think it’s over?’

  CHAPTER THREE

  JANE felt sick with nerves—or was it anticipation? Don’t be ridiculous, she told her reflection in the mirror as she wound the fluffy bath towel around her. Fresh from the shower, she looked for something to wear for her jaunt with Riley.

  Spring was in the air and she’d taken the opportunity during her few days’ leave to stock up on some of the new fashions. She loved the practicality of her casual wardrobe, feeling her spirits lift as she tossed the lean-look white sweater across the bed, following it with a pair of citrus-coloured capri pants.

  She brushed her hair until it shone, renewed her sunblock, dashed on lipstick and a smudge of eye-shadow and declared to her reflection that she was ready.

  Her grey eyes hazed for a moment. Ready for what?