A Surgeon with a Secret Read online

  On the other hand, it might well be a good thing that Lachlan wasn’t in the house tonight.

  Because she was missing him too much already...?

  * * *

  It was when Flick was in the kitchen on an afternoon break the next day that she saw Lachlan again for the first time since their intimate night together.

  Of course it was. This house might be the biggest Flick had ever lived in but most of her time with Lachlan had been in this one room. Talking time, anyway. Yesterday, she had been preoccupied with what silent messages might be communicated when they saw each other again but, now that it was happening, it was the last thing on Flick’s mind. She was far more concerned about Lachlan’s physical state.

  ‘Are you okay? You look...’

  ‘Wrecked. Yeah... I know.’ Lachlan eyed the mug in front of Flick. ‘Any more coffee in the pot?’

  ‘You look like you need more than coffee.’

  ‘You could be right. What’s the best cure for a hangover?’ Lachlan was rubbing his forehead in that gesture he’d told her he shared with his twin. ‘I blame Josh,’ he added. ‘The whisky was his idea.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t think I even had that much of it, mind you.’

  ‘Headache?’ Flick was taking in his pale skin and the circles under his eyes that looked dark enough to be bruises. ‘I could find you some paracetamol. Have you had lunch yet?’

  ‘I can’t remember when I last ate. I was supposed to have dinner with Josh but he got the whisky out and we started talking and we didn’t stop. We were up most of the night.’

  So that was why he hadn’t come home. Flick felt a wash of relief mix with her concern. He hadn’t been somewhere else in order to avoid her. He’d been with his twin brother, taking the first steps in an astonishing and unexpected new relationship. And he’d now had two nights in a row with very little sleep? No wonder he was looking so wrecked.

  ‘I could cook something,’ she offered. ‘Bacon and eggs are supposed to be good for a hangover.’

  ‘I’m not that hungry.’ Lachlan took a tumbler from a cupboard and filled it with water at the sink. ‘Maybe I just need to catch up on some sleep. Or get a bit of fresh air.’ He drank half the water. ‘Besides, Tilly wouldn’t be happy if we messed up her clean kitchen bench. Where is she?’

  ‘Upstairs. Playing Scrabble with your mother while I take a bit of a break. It was rather a long day yesterday what with getting the doctor out again.’

  But Lachlan wasn’t about to enquire after his mother’s health. In fact, Flick had seen the shutters come down as soon as she’d mentioned her. She could almost feel barriers being hastily erected. Lachlan drained his glass and set it down.

  ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘Fresh air is the cure, I’m sure of it.’

  His words were cheerful. He straightened up as he turned towards the door. He even found a smile and that reminded Flick of the persona she’d first met in this man. The one that could hide the real Lachlan McKendry so well. And it hurt, far more than she might have anticipated, to find herself being shut out like this.

  She didn’t want to be shut out. She needed to find a way to punch a hole in the barriers before they got any more solid.

  ‘Thanks for the bluebells,’ she found herself saying. ‘They have the most amazing scent. It fills up my whole bedroom.’

  Okay...that did it. Lachlan paused and turned. Maybe it was the mention of the bluebells or, more likely, the reference to a bedroom but the tension Flick had expected to be between them was definitely here. Strong enough to be using up all the oxygen in the room, in fact. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other and she could see just how torn Lachlan was.

  He wanted to say something...but didn’t want to at the same time.

  He wanted to leave...but didn’t want to...

  The tension increased to a point where it had to break. Flick opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t find any words. Maybe she was looking torn herself because something in Lachlan’s expression softened.

  ‘They smell even better in the woods,’ he said quietly. ‘Come and see...’

  Flick was already on her feet but had barely been aware of moving. ‘How far does the signal for the pager work?’ she asked. ‘In case I’m needed.’

  ‘Far enough.’ Lachlan was turning away again. ‘But, in any case, Tilly can cope. She doesn’t miss much so I expect she’ll see where we’re going from the window. You did say you’re on a break?’

  She had said that.

  And it felt right to go with Lachlan, to search in the boot room for a pair of wellies to cope with the damp ground after yesterday’s rain and to follow him across a lawn now bathed in spring sunshine, because he had become an integral part of why she felt needed here.

  Flick was tangled up in Lachlan’s story as well as his mother’s now and...and there were threads being woven into her own story that were too important to ignore. Whatever else was happening here, her own life was changing enough to make her feel she was standing at a very significant crossroads. Her body had not only come back to life thanks to Lachlan’s touch, she was aware of a connection that was even more powerful. If she chose to, she could fall in love with this man and that opened possibilities that were so big they were terrifying.

  She should be scared, she realised. She should probably choose a different path to go on at this unexpected crossroads but she didn’t, because this, too, felt right. If he was inviting her, she needed to walk further on the same path as Lachlan. Until she could see where it might be leading, at least, and whether her heart had healed enough to be able to go there. If she needed to, she knew that she could turn around. She’d know the moment it didn’t feel right and that would be the time to change direction completely and run. She could do that, too.

  She’d had plenty of practice, after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SUNLIGHT FILTERED INTO the woods, making the new leaves on oak trees a soft, green halo above dark trunks and the carpet of blue flowers a stunning contrast.

  The scent was strong enough to make Lachlan feel lightheaded for a moment. Or maybe his head was just so full of tumbling thoughts and emotions it was spinning out, giving up trying to find something solid and safe as an anchor.

  It was Flick who reminded him that he was actually within the best anchor that he’d ever had—in a place he had always loved.

  ‘This is so amazing. I’m scared to walk on them—I don’t want to squash any flowers.’

  ‘There are tracks. Like this one.’

  Without thinking, Lachlan held out his hand to guide Flick onto one of the many paths that the deer followed in this forest. A sideways glance gave him another glimpse of Flick’s delight and he realised that the bluebells darkened by this dappled light were an almost perfect match for the shade of blue of her eyes. A squirrel scurried up a trunk just ahead of them and Flick laughed, a joyous sound that—weirdly—brought the prickle of tears to the back of his eyes.

  It was that sad/happy thing again. He probably should be letting go of Flick’s hand by now but, instead, he found himself holding it a little tighter. And she didn’t pull hers free.

  ‘These are oak trees, yes?’

  ‘Yes. They’re the most common trees here but we also have chestnut and beech, ash and birch trees.’

  ‘And squirrels. I love squirrels.’

  ‘There are deer, as well. They keep these tracks open. I used to love seeing them. And hearing the woodpeckers or seeing owls.’

  ‘This place is magic.’ Flick’s steps slowed as another swathe of bluebells appeared in front of them. ‘I feel like I’m stepping into a fairy tale.’ She was smiling up at him. ‘And I think you were right.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Needing the fresh air. You’re looking a bit better.’

  He was feeling better, Lachlan realised. His head wasn’t spinning a
ny more. He was happy to be here. To be with Flick.

  ‘This is home,’ he told her quietly. ‘When I think of my childhood home, it’s not the house that comes to mind first. Or my parents. It’s here, in these woods. Maybe it’s the only part of my life that I feel I was lucky to have.’

  That quirk of Flick’s eyebrows was eloquent.

  ‘Oh, I know how privileged I was to live like this and get the best education and opportunities. My life could have been so different. It could have easily been Josh here instead of me and I wouldn’t have chosen his life.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘When we were talking last night, I got the impression that his whole life had been difficult. When he was just a little kid—about three—the people that adopted him had their own baby. A “real” son, Josh called him. He wasn’t wanted any longer. By the time he was five, his parents were talking about putting him up for adoption again.’

  Flick gasped. ‘That’s so awful.’

  ‘His grandmother thought so, too, so she took him to live with her and it caused a family rift that was never fixed. Josh felt like it was his fault. That he was being cared for but he wasn’t really wanted. Like me...’

  Flick was still holding his hand and now she squeezed his fingers. ‘It’s an unbelievable coincidence,’ she said. ‘That you were both adopted and you both end up being doctors but even more, that you both had a childhood that nobody should have.’ Her eyes were shining with potential tears. ‘You should have been kept together. And had a family who loved you both.’

  Lachlan’s smile was wry. ‘It’s no wonder we found we have something else in common too.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Neither of us has ever wanted to settle down. The idea of making a family of our own is the stuff of nightmares. He’s the same as me with women—any hint of something permanent being wanted and we’re running for the hills.’

  Flick was smiling but her gaze slid away from his before he could read her expression. Her hand slid clear of his at the same time and she crouched quickly, as if she’d been waiting to touch the petals of the flowers at their feet, but Lachlan had the impression that she was deliberately creating distance between them.

  He didn’t like that. He wanted the closeness of the connection he’d discovered with this amazing woman. The closeness that meant he didn’t have to hide anything about himself—even his tears. His night with Flick, on the day his world had imploded, felt like it had saved his life. Or at least his faith in humanity. He’d felt truly wanted for maybe the first time in his life. Truly cared for.

  ‘I should head back,’ Flick said as she stood up. ‘I’ve had more of a break than I usually do.’ She was still smiling as she turned. ‘Thank you so much for showing me the bluebells.’

  Lachlan wanted to take her hand again and hold her here a little longer. Instead, he walked beside her and tried to close the gap in a different way.

  ‘What is it that makes you run, Flick?’

  Her glance was startled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The way you live. Never staying long in one place. Never settling...’

  ‘Been there, done that.’ Her tone was dismissive. ‘Didn’t really work out that well.’

  This time, Lachlan didn’t resist the urge to take her hand. He pulled her to a stop.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said softly. And then, when he could see her hesitation, he held her gaze as well as her hand. ‘Please... You know more about me than anyone else on the planet,’ he added. ‘But I don’t know that much about you. Except that you can’t dance very well.’

  That made her smile. ‘Hey... I’m getting lessons.’

  He didn’t want to even think about his mother, let alone ruin this moment by talking about her. He wanted to talk about Flick. To find out what was important to her. What she might consider to be home and whether it was about a place or a person. Perhaps she could see the questions in his eyes and how much he wanted the answers.

  ‘I fell in love once.’ She spoke slowly as she finally broke the silence. ‘I married the man I loved—Patrick—and our life was perfect—right up until it all fell apart.’

  Lachlan could see the depth of pain in her eyes.

  ‘I lost our baby,’ she said simply. ‘Not that long before he was due to be born. And...that same week, Patrick got diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I nursed him for a couple of months until he died and... I couldn’t stay there any longer because it was too hard. I started moving and...and I guess I’ve never stopped. I’ve never wanted to stop because I might get caught by something. Or someone.’ She dragged in a shaky breath. ‘I could never survive loving and losing like that again.’

  The woods around them were so quiet when Flick stopped speaking, Lachlan couldn’t even hear a bird call. They were completely alone.

  ‘We all have our stories,’ Flick added softly. ‘And real life is never a fairy tale so they don’t always have happy endings, do they?’

  Lachlan couldn’t find any words to tell Flick how sorry he was that she’d suffered such tragedy. Or that if it were possible he’d want to erase at least some of that pain that kept her running. Telling her that, one day, she might find that she could turn the page and start a new chapter in her life would be dismissing an experience that had been so unbearable it was clearly going to leave shadows in her eyes for as long as she lived. But what he could do was to fold her into his arms and hold her. To try and give her the kind of comfort she had given him when he’d needed it most.

  To let her know that he cared.

  He had no idea how long they stood there in the warmth of the sunbeam that had found this spot, breathing in the delicate scent of the flowers around them, hearing faint birdsong and feeling each other’s heartbeats. However long it was, it wasn’t enough, though. And it was rudely broken by the strident sound of Flick’s pager that carried a reminder of the real world and its hardships and, in particular, a person Lachlan still wasn’t ready to even think about, let alone forgive.

  ‘Good to know it works out here, I guess,’ Flick said, as she pulled away from his arms. ‘That means I can come out here again and smell the flowers when I need a break.’

  ‘They’ll be here for weeks,’ Lachlan promised. ‘There’s plenty of time.’

  Flick opened her mouth as if she was going to say something but then closed it again, giving her head a tiny shake to indicate that she’d changed her mind.

  ‘You’re right,’ she murmured as she started walking again. ‘There’s plenty of time.’

  * * *

  She should have told him when she’d had the chance, days and days ago now.

  Lachlan needed to know that there’d been a reason his adoptive mother couldn’t love him—that it was about her and not him. And the perfect moment to have told him was after he’d been holding her and she could feel how much her own sad story had touched him.

  But...oh...the way it had felt being held in his arms like that...

  She hadn’t let anyone that close since Patrick had died. Never. She’d never let anyone care about her that much because she wasn’t prepared to take the risk of caring about them that much.

  If she’d tried to talk about his mother right then, she would have seen those shutters come down again and he would have pushed her away because he was nowhere near ready to hear what she needed to tell him. And not only would it have ruined a memory of something so beautiful it could bring tears to her eyes—being held like that in a fairy tale, bluebell wood, it would have broken a new level of trust between them which was something that would be impossible to build again.

  Like hope, trust was a fragile thing when it was newborn.

  A precious thing.

  Something that was getting stronger with every passing day but that only made it harder to risk testing it by pushing boundaries. Lachlan didn’t want to speak to his mother. Or t
o see her. If he knew that she was watching from her windows when he came and went from the house, he gave no sign of it. Even now, as Lady Josephine waited for the few seconds it took for her blood glucose measurement to appear on the screen of the meter, her gaze was drifting towards the windows. She wanted to see Lachlan but she knew she had to wait for him to be ready, in the same way that Flick had known she had to wait for the right time to tell him what she knew about his mother.

  Sometimes, the watching and waiting seemed like an exercise in frustration. Lachlan commuted to London on more than one occasion and stayed overnight and when he was in residence he was leaving the house early and giving frequent evening lectures and training sessions that kept him out until late most nights.

  Flick always waited up for him when she knew he was coming home because she knew she’d get that look. Sometimes it came after he’d had a meal that Mrs Tillman had left to keep warm in the oven or after he’d done some preparation for the next day’s work but sometimes it came the moment his gaze met hers—especially if he’d been away for a day or two. It was the look that was an invitation to go to his room. Or hers. It didn’t matter as long as it had a bed and a door they could use to close off the rest of the world. It had never been supposed to have been more than a one-off source of comfort on the night that Lachlan had been so upset but it had happened again, that evening after he’d taken Flick to see the bluebells and it had still felt like a source of comfort that night—maybe for both of them.

  Over the last ten days, however, it had morphed into something rather different. Something that still held an element of comfort for people whose life experiences had led them to choose to face life alone but there were definitely new levels of physical pleasure being woven into their private time together and it was the kind of pleasure that could rapidly become addictive.

  Flick would find herself holding her breath as she waited for that look and it was more need than desire that was stealing her ability to draw in more air. She was desperate for an invitation that was only becoming more and more irresistible as they got to know each other’s bodies more and more intimately. How could it take no more than a glance to ignite a passion that could not only last for hours but get more intense every time?