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Praise for Annie Claydon:
‘A compelling, emotional and highly poignant read that I couldn’t bear to put down. Rich in pathos, humour and dramatic intensity, it’s a spellbinding tale about healing old wounds, having the courage to listen to your heart and the power of love that kept me enthralled from beginning to end.’
—GoodReads on ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS NIGHT
‘A lovely story—I really enjoyed this book, which was well-written by Annie as always.’
—GoodReads on
RE-AWAKENING HIS SHY NURSE
‘Well-written brilliant characters—I have never been disappointed by a book written by Annie Claydon.’
—GoodReads on
THE REBEL AND MISS JONES
‘I’d like some company.’
He reached forward and found her hand. When he pulled her glove off it felt as if he was undressing her. He laid his gentle fingers around hers, and it was as if they were naked already. Neve leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.
The suddenness of his next move activated his seat belt, and for a moment he was pinned against the seat. Cursing, he punched the release, twisting round and pulling her into his arms. Sudden heat jolted through her when he kissed her.
‘Come inside.’
The gear-shift was in the way, and the steering wheel wouldn’t allow him to get as close as she’d like. Their clothes wouldn’t allow him to get as close as she’d like…
‘If I let you go…?’
‘You’re going to have to. One step back and two steps forward.’
His lips curved against hers. ‘I like the way you think…’
When I was writing my first book, one of the (many) details I worried about was the fact that I’d described a very sharp frost and frozen pipes before Christmas. Would this be entirely believable? In the previous few years we’d had mild winters, without any really cold weather before Christmas. But the unpredictable British climate came to my rescue, and December 2010—the winter before that first book was published—was one of the coldest we’d experienced for a hundred years, with enough snow to make my December cold snap seem a little bit understated!
So this time around I’ve no qualms about giving my characters something a bit more extreme to deal with. Dr Neve Harrison doesn’t have the luxury of being able to give in to adverse weather conditions. She’s struggling to get to all her patients, despite heavy snow and blocked roads. So when Joe Lamont turns up on her doorstep, ready and able to help, it seems that her luck has changed.
Together, they’re more than a match for those adverse weather conditions—but Joe himself is a more daunting proposition. His secrets threaten to break Neve’s heart, and deprive her of the thing she wants most in the world.
I hope you enjoy Joe and Neve’s story. I’m always thrilled to hear from readers, and you can contact me via my website at www.annieclaydon.com
Annie x
Cursed from an early age with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. After completing her degree in English Literature she indulged her love of romantic fiction and spent a long, hot summer writing a book of her own. It was duly rejected and life took over. A series of U-turns led in the unlikely direction of a career in computing and information technology, but the lure of the printed page proved too much to bear, and she now has the perfect outlet for the stories which have always run through her head, writing Medical Romance™ for Mills & Boon®. Living in London—a city where getting lost can be a joy—she has no regrets for having taken her time in working her way back to the place that she started from.
Snowbound
with the
Surgeon
Annie Claydon
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Dedication
To Noreen, who taught me how to end well.
Table of Contents
Cover
Praise for Annie Claydon
Excerpt
Dear Reader
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
THIRTY PACES TO her gate. Neve counted them all. After that, ten paces would be enough to take her up the front path. It turned out to be eleven because she slipped on the ice, grabbing at the porch rails to steady herself and wrenching her shoulder as her heavy medical bag fell to the ground.
She waved her hand in front of the sensor for the porch light, and nothing happened. The electricity was still off, then. All the same, the cast-iron stove in the kitchen would be throwing out heat, and she couldn’t wait to get inside. Just as she was about to savour the moment of sliding the key into the lock of her own front door, her phone rang. Dammit. If she had to go out in the snow again tonight…
If she had to go out again tonight, then so be it. She’d turn around, slide back down the front path and hope that it wouldn’t take twenty minutes to start her car this time. The vision of sipping a hot drink and letting her toes thaw in front of the stove, which had carried her through the last hours of a very long day, began to recede.
‘Yeah, Maisie. What have you got for me?’
‘Good news…’
‘Really?’ Neve took the risk of further disappointment and opened the front door, stepping inside and dumping her bag in the hallway. It wasn’t much warmer in here, but the kitchen door was closed against the chill in the rest of the old farmhouse. ‘Is it safe to take my coat off?’
‘Aren’t you home yet?’
‘Just. It took me over an hour to get back from my last appointment. The road through Cryersbridge was blocked by a car that slid out of control, and we had to wait until it was towed.’
‘You must be frozen. Are you in the warm now, pet?’ Maisie Johnstone was the wife of the senior partner of the Yorkshire practice that Neve had joined eighteen months ago, and sometimes took it upon herself to mother Neve. That was okay. Neve could do with a bit of that at the moment.
‘Hold on…’ Neve tramped through to the kitchen, her boots shedding shards of ice onto the carpet. Opened the door, and the heat hit her like a soft, welcoming pillow. Light flared as she struck a match and lit the candles on the kitchen table, and she shed her coat and sat down. Pulling her boots off with one hand, she pressed her phone to her ear with the other.
‘Fire away, Maisie, I need some good news…’
She heard Maisie’s chuckle at the other end of the line. ‘Some of the local practices have got together with the healthcare trust to organise a group of volunteers with four-wheel-drive vehicles. The idea is that they’ll help doctors and district nurses who are having difficulty getting through to patients. You’ve got your very own escort for tomorrow.’
Neve swallowed hard. This sounded too good to be true, and if the general trend for today was anything to go by, that meant it was. ‘Who? Is he local?’
‘Lives in Leminster. He’s from Canada, so I suppose he must know a bit about snow.’
‘Sounds promising.’
‘It is. Joe’s a nice guy. Outdoorsy type. Moved here just before Christmas last year. He was on crutches then, but that was only for a couple of months. He built a front porch for Edie Wilcox last summer and put in grab rails so she could get in and out of the house…’
‘Wait… Who’s Edie Wilcox?’ Maisie had lived in this area all her life and seemed to know the life histories of everyone within a thirty-mile radius.
‘She lives in Leminster. Married old Stan Wilcox and they argued for thirty-seven years non-stop until he dropped down dead from a heart attack. She was devastated and didn’t go out of the house for a couple of years…’
‘She doesn’t go out?’
‘Oh, that was twenty years ago. She goes out all the time now. Likes to terrorise the tourists in the summer. Edie’s a tough old bird and proud with it. She won’t let the social services past the front door, but she must have taken a liking to Joe because she let him do a few alterations to her cottage to make it a bit easier for her to get around.’
Neve’s head was beginning to swim. Maisie had been invaluable in helping her to settle in and be accepted by the community, but there was always the danger of going into information overload.
‘So his name’s Joe? The guy with the four-by-four?’
‘That’s right. Joe Lamont. He was going to call round to see you this evening, just to make contact, but I expect he’s missed you if you’ve only just got home. Did he leave a note?’
‘I don’t think so. Hold on, I’ll go and see.’ Neve scooted down the hall to the front door, treading on a piece of ice and feeling it melt through her thick woollen socks. ‘No, nothing here.’ Shivering, she hurried back to the warmth of the kitchen.
‘I’ll call him, then, and let him know you’ll be in contact.’
‘That’s okay, I’ll call him now…’ Neve found a pen and scribbled the number that Maisie recited onto the back of her hand.
‘You’re all right out there, are you? You know you can always stay with us.’
‘I’m fine. Thanks, Maisie, but I’ve got all I need.’ She had food, heat and plenty of candles. The farmhouse kitchen extended the full width of the back of the house, and was big enough to easily accommodate a table and chairs next to the cooking area, and a sofa bed at the far end by the old stone hearth. Right now, the sofa bed was the only thing she needed.
‘Okay. I’ll give you a call in the morning. Stay warm.’
A cup of tea, and then she’d call this guy and get some sleep. Neve filled the kettle and set it to boil on the stove.
The front door rattled, as if something heavy had struck it. Neve wondered if she should go and see what it was and decided against it. If that was the porch collapsing under the weight of snow on the roof, then tomorrow morning would be soon enough to find out.
Two more thumps and the muffled sound of a voice. Someone was outside. Neve picked up a candle and ventured into the hall.
Movement, and a flare of light ahead of her made her jump. Stupid, it was just the candle, reflected in the hall mirror. Perhaps it was the flickering light that made her look like something out of a horror movie, a chalk-white face with dark circles under the eyes. Neve grimaced at herself in the glass, swiping her free hand through her unruly blonde curls in an effort to make herself look vaguely presentable.
‘Who’s there?’
‘Joe Lamont. I’m looking for Dr Harrison.’
‘What…?’ Neve bit her tongue. There wasn’t much point in asking what he was doing out on a night like this if she was going to leave him standing on the doorstep. She pulled the door open, and a gust of freezing air blew the candle out, leaving her staring at a large, black shadow.
‘Come in. I was about to phone you.’
‘Thanks…’ The figure kicked his heavy boots against the doorstep, and stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him. ‘Your doorbell isn’t working.’
‘No, the power’s off. Wait there a moment. I’ll just open the kitchen door to give us some light…’ Suddenly, a torch beam almost blinded her, and a gloved hand found hers.
‘Here. Take this.’
For a moment all Neve could register was his smell. Warm and clean, the kind of scent produced by the chemistry of soap and skin, rather than anything you got from a bottle. Then he put the torch into her hand, stepping back almost immediately, as if to give her some space.
‘Thanks.’ She had a strong temptation to shine the light in the direction of Joe’s outline, but Neve resisted it and turned, leading the way through the hallway. ‘Come through.’
She shut the kitchen door behind them, watching while Joe pulled his gloves off and unzipped his heavy jacket. He was tall, with what looked like broad shoulders, but that might just be the bulk of his clothing. In the torchlight, his cheekbones looked as sharp as knives.
‘Are you okay out here on your own?’
His voice was deep, with the trace of a Canadian accent along with a little of the cadence of the Yorkshire village he’d made his home. The kind of voice you’d want to hear if you were in trouble. Neve almost began to wish she was.
‘I’m fine, thanks. I have heat and light.’ She switched off the torch, and in the candlelight his features seemed to soften.
He looked around. ‘And food?’
‘Yes.’ Enough to keep her going for another day. ‘I’m making tea—would you like a cup?’
His gaze flicked quickly around the room, as if he was still unconvinced about something, then he nodded. ‘Thanks. That would be nice.’
‘Sit down.’ She waved him towards the table. ‘And why don’t you take your coat off? You’ll melt in here.’
He slung his coat over the back of a chair and sat, running one hand absently across the scarred oak tabletop, his fingers seeming to explore the grain. ‘You get hot water from the stove?’
‘Yes. The power goes out from time to time here, so I had an oil-fired stove put in.’ It appeared the questioning wasn’t over quite yet. That was okay, he could ask. Neve had made sure that she could deal with pretty much anything the world chose to throw at her, and she had the answers.
The touch of humour that twitched at the sides of his mouth suited him. ‘I guess I’ll just stop with the neighbourly concern, shall I?’
‘It’s appreciated. But not needed at the moment.’ She hid her smile behind the open door of the larder, reaching for the biscuit barrel and laying it on the table next to the teapot. ‘Help yourself.’
He took the mug of tea that she slid across the table towards him with a nod of acknowledgement. He seemed… tense wasn’t the word. He seemed watchful, taking in everything around him, as if he needed to keep an eye on the world to keep it spinning. Neve began to wish that she’d found the time to fold the sofa bed back up this morning. Hopefully, any stray underwear would go unnoticed in the candlelight.
‘You’re not from around here?’ His attention was fixed on Neve now and, before she could stop it, her hand flew to her hair to smooth it back. ‘The South somewhere?’
‘London.’
He nodded. ‘I must be improving. When I first came here, all I could hear was that everyone had British accents.’
‘And you’re from Canada…?’
His smile had the same sense of discipline about it as all his other movements did. Graceful, economical, and with a sense of purpose about it. And gorgeous.
‘Right in one. Most people reckon I’m from America.’
‘Actually, Maisie told me. I imagine you’ve got a lot more experience of driving in these conditions than me.’ Best get back to business. That smile, the relaxed, watchful curve of his body was distracting her.
‘A bit. It’s a little different at home…’
‘Snow’s snow, isn’t it?’
‘My Inupiak granny wouldn’t agree with you there. She lived on the ice when she was a child, and could write a book about different kinds of snow.’
That explained his striking looks. Raven-dark hair that grazed the collar of his thick sweater. Dark eyes and proud cheekbones. ‘So how did you end up in Yorkshire?’
‘My other grandmother came from around here. Her family went to Canada when she was a child, but she used to tell me stories about England. I decided to pay a visit and ended up staying.’ He looked at his tea, as if taking a second sip was yet another thing that required a thought-through decision. ‘It’s a good base to travel to Europe from.’
Neve would have thought that London would be better. But Joe didn’t seem the type to spend much time worrying about what other people thought. ‘You travel a lot?’
He shrugged. ‘A bit. I’ve seen most of Europe. Africa, Asia.’ He made a small, dismissive movement of his hand, as if this all meant nothing. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Eighteen months.’
‘Love at first sight?’
‘Eh?’ Suddenly she was falling into the depths of his dark eyes. Not quite love at first sight, but there was definitely something about him…
‘You fell in love with this place. Like me.’
Nothing like that. Yorkshire had been somewhere to run to, and the most lovely thing about this particular location was that it was remote. ‘I’m growing to love it. Maisie’s been very good to me.’
He nodded. ‘She’s a force to be reckoned with, isn’t she? When she called me, asking for help, there was no saying no…’
‘But I thought… Aren’t you a volunteer?’
‘Seems I am now.’
Neve’s heart sank. ‘So Maisie talked you into this. Listen, if you don’t want—’
‘It’s okay. I was getting a little cabin crazy doing nothing at home, and I was looking for a way to help. Maisie just saved me some trouble.’ His dark gaze sought hers. ‘I have winter tyres fitted on my four-by-four, and they’ll cope with just about anything. And snow chains, in case we run into any trouble. You’ll be quite safe.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ He didn’t need to reassure her. Maisie had vouched for him, and in any case there was something about Joe. If you were in the habit of trusting people on the basis of ten minutes’ conversation then he’d be the one to pick.
‘Maisie said you were covering the north side of the practice’s catchment area.’ He reached over and slid a map out of his jacket pocket, spreading it on the table. ‘Here…’ His finger described a loop.
‘Yes, that’s right. We’ve split the practice up into three, and each one of us is covering one section. We’re holding temporary surgeries in church halls and so on for people who find it difficult to get to the main surgery, and taking on all the visits for our own area. Cuts down on the travelling.’
‘I imagine you’re still pretty busy, though.’
‘Yeah. With only two weeks to go before Christmas…’ She shrugged. ‘Everyone seems to rush for the shops and the doctor’s surgery around now.’
He nodded, surveying the map thoughtfully. ‘You’ve drawn the short straw, this is some of the most difficult terrain in the area. Couldn’t you have asked to swap with a doctor with more local experience?’
Neve felt her spine stiffen. One of the reasons she’d come here was to escape being told what she could, and couldn’t, do.
‘We each took the area closest to where we live. I can handle it.’
‘I dare say you can.’ He flashed her a disarming smile. ‘What time do you want me tomorrow?’
Six o’clock, with a cup of fresh brewed coffee and a gently warmed croissant. The fantasy was inappropriate on almost every level she could think of, and Neve let it slide.
‘If nothing else urgent comes up, I’ll be starting in Leminster at nine tomorrow. I can drive over and meet you there…’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.’ He re-folded the map and stood up. ‘I’d better get going now. I’m on my way to the supermarket in town…’
‘At this time of night?’
‘I promised to pick some things up for someone. Can I get you anything?’ He gestured towards the large, well-scraped jar sitting on the kitchen worktop. ‘Some more peanut butter?’
He didn’t give up, did he? But she was going to have to stop off at the shops tomorrow if she didn’t ask for more supplies now. ‘Um… perhaps one or two things. If it’s no trouble.’
‘No trouble. Give me a list…’
CHAPTER TWO
A BOWL OF steaming porridge, a banana that had seen better days, coffee, toast and the last of the peanut butter would be enough to keep her going for the morning. By twenty past eight, Neve had tidied up and folded the sofa bed, and her deliberations about whether it was entirely wise to tidy her duvet away upstairs in the freezing bedroom were interrupted by the sound of a car outside in the lane. She dumped the duvet back onto the sofa and ventured into the hall, peering outside.
The trees were laden with snow after a fresh fall during the night. Clear blue skies, and sparkling white fields. The landscape had a kind of rugged beauty about it, an implicit challenge to either respect its rules or fall foul of them.
And talking about rugged beauty…
Joe had just got out of the driver’s seat of a black SUV. The high chassis and large wheels looked more than capable of tackling the rough terrain they were going to face today. He looked pretty capable, too. Tall and broad, standing for a moment to assess the sky and the road that twisted away into the distance, then shouldering a large canvas bag and turning towards her house. The gate was packed round with ice and snow and refused to budge, and he swung effortlessly over the low front wall.
It looked a bit eager, but she opened the front door anyway, not waiting for him to knock. ‘Hi. You made it…’
He shrugged, as if making it here hadn’t been in question. Kicked off his boots and strode into the kitchen, dumping the bag at her feet.
‘Hope this is what you wanted…’
Neve bent to look inside the bag. Every thing on her list and more. A hand of bananas, a bag of apples and a punnet of strawberries. She looked up at him silently.
‘I saw that your bowl was nearly empty.’ He gestured towards the one wizened apple in the fruit bowl.
The idea that Joe had been silently noting and assessing everything wasn’t particularly comfortable. ‘Thanks. That was thoughtful of you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He fished in his pocket and brought out a note and some change, putting it down on the table.
‘Is that right? Surely you spent more than that?’
He shrugged. ‘I shopped around. And someone gave me the strawberries yesterday.’
Neve gave him a long, questioning look and then gave up. If Joe wanted to operate on a need-to-know basis, then so be it. She hurried to stow the non-perishables in the larder and then opened the back door, pulling a heavy-duty plastic box inside and putting it on the table.
He was quietly watching her every move, and Neve felt her brow crease with anxiety. That old feeling of having something to prove to someone. She thought she’d left that behind her when she’d turned onto the M1 motorway from London, and headed north.
‘Let me…’ She was struggling with the clips on the box, and before she could protest he’d spun the box towards him and knocked a lump of ice out from under the lid, wresting it open.
Inside, there was half a pint of milk and a carton of juice, both frozen into solid lumps. One of his eyebrows arched, and Neve felt her hackles rise in response to the unspoken question.
‘What…?’ She should probably just leave it. Neve tipped the remainder of the shopping into the box and clapped the lid back on, fastening it securely.
‘Nothing… If I’d realised you were so short of supplies, I could have brought a few more things in for you.’