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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
About The Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Copyright
Anne Fraser was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.
Chapter One
DR ROBINA ZONDI studied the austere man addressing the conference delegates and sucked in her breath. Dr Niall Ferguson, the keynote speaker and the man on whom the success of her book depended, was disturbingly good looking and surprisingly sexy. Somehow she had expected someone middle-aged, not this Adonis with a beak of a nose that prevented fine features from being too beautiful. He couldn’t be more than thirty—thirty-five tops. Young surely to exude such easy confidence. As he spoke, he pushed a lock of dark hair which kept flopping across his brow aside with impatient fingers.
She had looked him up on the internet, but there had been no photographs accompanying the rather dry but impressively long list of credentials. She certainly hadn’t expected to be enthralled—as everyone else in the conference appeared to be—by his presentation. No polite, bored coughing had interrupted the smooth flow of words, as he emphasised key points in his lilting Scottish accent. It was a flawless and professional performance and as soon as the question-and-answer session was over, he was surrounded by journalists and attendees all vying for his attention.
This was going to be harder than she’d anticipated. The butterflies that had been setting up home in her stomach were creating havoc. It was very likely that he would send her away with a flea in her ear, but Robina had never been one to give up without trying. If her easy-to-read guide on infertility were to be taken seriously, she needed someone of his stature to give it his seal of approval. Her publishing company had sent him a copy, but he hadn’t even had the decency to acknowledge its receipt. To be fair, he probably had loads of people wanting his views or his endorsement. When she had read on the internet that he was to attend a conference in Cape Town, the opportunity to ask him face to face had seemed too good to miss.
Robina waited until he was finally alone before approaching him.
‘Dr Ferguson, may I have a word?’ Blue eyes, the colour of the rarest of Kimberley diamonds, looked up. He frowned as if trying to place who she was.
‘You don’t know me,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m Dr Robina Zondi. I know you’re a busy man, but could I have a minute?’
He stood and Robina was disconcerted to find that he towered over her. Taller than he had appeared at the podium, he had to be at least six feet three. It was all she could do not to take a step back.
‘Of course,’ he said politely. ‘Please have a seat.’
Robina dipped into her briefcase and pulled out a copy of her book.
‘I hope you don’t mind, Dr Ferguson,’ she said quickly before her courage failed her, ‘but I have a favour to ask you.’ She handed him the book.
‘A Guide to Infertility,’ he said quietly, glancing at the cover. ‘How can I help?’ He smiled encouragingly and his face relaxed, making him seem more human and even more devastatingly handsome.
But before she could launch into her carefully prepared speech, a short, dark-skinned man appeared and elbowed his way past Robina. ‘Dr Ferguson, I’m Professor Lessing, based at Groote Schuur Hospital. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks now, and I wondered if I could have a moment?’ He glanced at his watch, making it clear that he was a busy man.
‘I’m sorry, Professor,’ Dr Ferguson said in his deep lilting voice that made Robina think of water rushing over rocks, ‘but I’m afraid this lady got here first. Perhaps we could schedule a time later on?’
‘Please, go ahead,’ Robina interrupted. ‘I can wait. Actually, I’m dying for something to drink, so can I get you something while you speak to this gentleman?’
‘You wouldn’t mind? In that case a glass of iced water would be great.’ He grinned and a dimple appeared at the side of his mouth. Robina’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to tell herself it was just nervousness about her book that was turning her legs to jelly and her mouth to dust. February in Cape Town was hot enough without being in a crowded room where the air-conditioning had broken down. If Dr Ferguson was feeling the heat, he gave no sign of it.
By the time she fought her way back through the crowds with three glasses of iced water on a tray, it looked as if whatever the professor had been discussing with their guest speaker hadn’t made him very happy. Just as Robina approached, the older man leapt to his feet, knocking the tray of drinks from her hands. Robina watched in horror as three glasses spun in the air, spilling ice cubes and water over Dr Ferguson and his companion.
‘For God’s sake, woman,’ Professor Lessing growled, dabbing at his suit. ‘How can you be so careless?’
Robina glared back. It hadn’t been her fault. If he hadn’t jumped to his feet without looking, the drinks would have stayed on the tray. She bit back the words and glanced at Niall. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
‘I don’t know about anyone else,’ he said slowly, ‘but a cool shower was just what I needed.’ He looked at Robina and grinned.
‘Stupid girl,’ the professor muttered irritably, still dabbing at his suit.
All of a sudden the smile left Dr Ferguson’s face. ‘What did you say?’ he asked quietly.
‘She should have looked where she was going.’
Dr Ferguson’s eyes glittered. ‘I think we all know whose fault it was. Now, Professor, if you would excuse us?’
The older man looked as if he were about to protest, but something in Niall’s expression stopped him in his tracks. ‘I don’t see any further need to meet again,’ he said tightly. ‘You’ve made your position quite clear.’ And with that he turned on his heel and left.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Robina said.
‘Don’t be. The man has an over-inflated opinion of himself. And he’s a bore—even more unforgivable. You did me a favour, actually. He wants me to put my name to some paper he’s presenting, but I told him I’m not interested. I’m afraid he wasn’t too happy.’ He sat back down in his chair, indicating to Robina that she sit too. ‘Now, where were we?’
Robina wiped droplets of water off the front of her book and pushed it across the table. ‘I know I have a cheek asking, but I wondered…’ She paused. Now it came to actually asking the question it seemed ridiculously forward. But she was here now and she could hardly just get up and leave. ‘I wondered if you would read my book and consider writing the foreword?’ There, it was out. He could laugh in her face, or send her packing, but at least she had asked.
He turned the book over in his hands. ‘As a matter of fact, I have already read it. It was sent to me by your publisher. I’ve been kind of busy, otherwise I would have replied by now.’ He leaned back in his chair and scrutinised her face. Robina felt her pulse kick up a gear. What if he’d hated it?
‘I thought it was well written,’ he said, to her relief, ‘and very accurate. I particularly liked the style—informal without being patronising. I can see the need for a book like this. We specialists aren’t always the best people to explain complicated medical issues to the general public.’ He grinned and Robina’s heart somersaulted.
‘But what makes you qualified to write it? I haven’t heard your name associated with the sub-specialty, and I know most people,’ he continued, his eyes never straying from hers. The way he was looking at her made her feel they were the only two people in the room. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
‘I’m a doctor—a GP—but before that I was a journalist.’
‘And being a GP makes you qualified to write such a book?’ he queried, his eyes drilling into hers, but then his gaze softened. ‘Or is there a more personal reason?’
She shook her head. ‘Purely professional. I saw loads of women at my surgery who wanted to know about infertility, but didn’t know where to go. Often they didn’t know if they even needed treatment. Their questions were what gave me the idea for the book.’ She stumbled slightly over the words. When she said it like that, it did sound a little simplistic. He wasn’t to know about the hours she had spent researching the area and more particularly, talking to women, finding out what they wanted to know rather than what the experts thought they should know.
His eyes dropped to the bare fingers of her left hand and then he looked up at her and grinned again. Robina caught her breath. Never in her twenty-eight years had a man had such an effect on her and suddenly, crazy though it was, Robina knew that she was smitten.
Niall looked over her shoulder and Robina turned to see a group of people bearing purposefully down on them. Niall stood suddenly and whispered in her ear.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, ‘before I get trapped.’
Robina could no more have refused him than she could have walked across the Atlantic. She tried to pretend to herself that the opportunity to have access to one of the leading lights in infertility was the reason, but gave up that notion the second he gripped her elbow and steered her outside. Suddenly the last thing she wanted to talk about was work. Instead she wanted to know every personal detail about this man, down to the name of his first pet.
He led her to an open-top sports car and helped her into the front seat.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, not really caring.
‘I thought you could show me a bit of your country. In return for me endorsing your book?’
‘So you’ll do it, then, Dr Ferguson?’ Her heart was still doing its ridiculous pitter-patter and it had nothing to do with the relief she felt at his words. What was the matter with her? She was reacting like some star-struck groupie.
‘Yes, but only if we have a deal. And by the way, it’s Niall.’
Robina forced herself to breathe normally before she replied. ‘Have you been to Cape Town before?’
‘Once, but I never got out of the hotel.’
‘You are kidding, right?’ she said incredulously. ‘You came all the way here and didn’t see anything? Not Table Mountain, Chapman’s Peak, the vineyards? Nothing?’
All of a sudden his smile vanished and his expression turned bleak. ‘There wasn’t time,’ he said shortly. ‘I had…’ he paused ‘…only a couple of days. I didn’t want to leave my daughter for too long.’
So he was married, Robina thought, aware of a crashing sense of disappointment. He hadn’t been wearing a ring, but many men didn’t.
‘And your wife?’ she said lightly. ‘Did she come with you?’
‘My wife’s dead,’ he said quietly. ‘She died two years ago.’
This time there was no mistaking the raw pain that shadowed his face.
Before she could help herself, she reached across and squeezed his hand. ‘I’m so sorry. She must have been very young.’
‘Thirty.’ He sucked in a breath as if it hurt him to say the words. ‘Mairead died just six months before that last conference. Unfortunately, these things are arranged months—even years—in advance. I couldn’t get out of it, but I didn’t want to leave my daughter for a second longer than I had to. I flew back as soon as the conference finished. I don’t think I saw anything apart from the inside of my hotel.’
‘But you’ve got more time this trip?’ Robina thought it wise to get the subject onto safer ground.
‘I have the rest of the weekend,’ he said. ‘The first flight back I could get is on Monday. So until then, I’m all yours.’ He looked at her and Robina felt the world spin. Never before had she experienced such an instant, overwhelming reaction to a man. ‘So where are we going first? What do you recommend?’
‘What do you want to see? The tourist Africa or the real Africa?’
‘The real Africa, of course, that’s why I’ve kidnapped you.’ Her heart lurched. If only that were true! The thought of being kidnapped by this enigmatic man sent all sorts of fantasies spinning around her brain. Stop being ridiculous, she told herself. He wanted a guide in exchange for his help, nothing more. From the expression on his face when he’d mentioned his wife, he must have loved her very much. And he had a daughter. All very good reasons for Robina to run a mile.
‘So, where to?’ he asked a little later as he put the car into gear and exited the conference car park. They came to a T-junction. ‘Left or right?’
‘Right.’ She paused as a thought struck her. ‘You’re not afraid of heights, are you?’
‘I’m probably going to regret this but, no, I’m not. Why, are you?’
‘Terrified!’ Robina admitted with a smile. ‘But I would never forgive myself if I didn’t take you up Table Mountain—especially on a beautifully clear day like today. I know it’s a bit touristy, but everyone has to go up at least once in their lifetime. So why don’t we start there? And then…’
‘Then we’ll see,’ he finished the sentence for her. There was something in the tone of his voice that sent a shiver up Robina’s spine. It was a promise and a warning. She knew that if she wasn’t to get in too deep, now was the time to call a halt. But even as the thought formed in her mind, she knew it was too late. She could do nothing except allow this man to pull her along in his wake and enjoy the ride. For once she was going to throw caution to the wind and let life take her where it would.
As they waited in the queue for the cable car, they chatted easily about work. When their turn came to board, Robina’s heart began to race. Although she had made the trip many times before, each time she was swamped by a rush of anxiety. The doors opened and Robina immediately clutched the handrail that encircled the oval cable car. But she knew it would be worth it once they got to the top—the views over Cape Town and the South Atlantic Ocean were breathtaking. Niall would be impressed.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked quietly, and she could feel his breath on her neck.
‘I’m fine, really. Like I told you, I’m just not very good with heights.’ She looked up at him and smiled with as much reassurance as she could muster.
‘For some reason, I didn’t think of you as someone who could be afraid of anything.’ He placed a comforting arm on her shoulder and she felt the heat of his fingers burning her bare skin.
And suddenly she wasn’t frightened any more. Before she knew it, they had reached the top and were spilling out onto the flat top of Table Mountain.
Two hours stretched into three then four as they explored the trails along the top of the mountain, eventually retreating to the outside restaurant for a late lunch. A cool breeze tickled their skin and Robina thought she had never felt as happy as she did at that moment.
Niall topped up their water glasses. ‘So is this where you take all your guests?’ he asked.
Robina took a sip of her drink and pointed to an island in the distance. ‘Do you see that strip of land over there?’
He nodded.
‘That’s Robben Island. Where Nelson Mandela was incarcerated.’ She felt the tears prickle behind her eyes and she blinked furiously.
But she was too late. Niall touched her hand. ‘Hey, are you all right?’ he said gently.
‘I come here at least once a year,’ Robina said.
Niall raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘On the anniversary of my father’s death,’ she continued.
‘Was he there too?’ Niall probed gently.
‘For six months. When he was a young man.’ She turned to face him. ‘It’s open to the public now, but I somehow can’t bring myself to go there. It would be too painful. So I come up here and pay my respects instead.’ Robina took a deep breath.
‘You know the prisoners spent their free time teaching each other whatever they knew, so that by the time they were released, they would have the skills and knowledge to lead a government. My parents had to leave South Africa when they got married. At that time it was still illegal for a white woman and a black man to marry. They continued their work in the UK, before returning here in the early eighties. My father said not living in Africa was like not being able to breathe.’
‘He sounds like a remarkable man.’
‘He was. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be someone he could be proud of.’
Niall grinned and, taking her hand in his, rubbed her fingers. ‘It looks like you succeeded.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Perhaps if he were here to tell me himself…’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, enough about me.’ Suddenly she was appalled. How had she let herself go on like that? She never discussed her private thoughts with anyone, yet here she was spilling her heart out to a relative stranger. ‘I just wanted you to experience Table Mountain—even if you see nothing else,’ she added lamely.
‘Thank you for showing me. And sharing with me.’ Gesturing the waiter over, Niall peeled off a pile of rand notes.
‘Where to next?’ he asked as they stood up. When he took her hand, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
‘I want you to meet my grandmother,’ Robina said impulsively. ‘She lives about an hour’s drive from Cape Town.’
‘I’d like that,’ Niall said simply.
As they drove into the township, leaving a flurry of dust in their wake, Niall kept glancing at the woman sitting beside him. It wasn’t just that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, with her exotic almond eyes, smooth dark skin and elegant long limbs, but her strange mix of nervousness and passion enchanted him. Every minute he spent with her, he felt himself falling more and more under her spell. Never in a million years had he ever thought he would meet anyone again who made his pulse race the way this woman did.
Now that the heat of the day had passed, people were beginning to emerge from the cool shelter of their houses. Women were returning from the well, balancing enormous pots on their heads, while still others carried long sheaves of firewood in the same way. A number of schoolgirls mimicked the older women, balancing their school books in neat piles on top of their heads. It could have been a different world.
Robina pointed to a mud house with a neat fence and a small verandah where an old woman was rocking gently as she worked with her hands.
As Robina got out of the car, the old woman stood unsteadily, leaning heavily on a stick. When she saw Robina, a smile spread across her broad face. ‘Mzukulwana!’
Niall waited as Robina hugged her grandmother. There followed a long stream of words incomprehensible to Niall. Finally Robina stood back and beckoned him forward.
‘Niall, I’d like you to meet my grandmother. Makhulu, this is Dr Niall Ferguson.’ She repeated her words in the same language she had used to greet her grandmother and listened carefully to the reply.
‘My grandmother says you are welcome to her home and asks if you would sit. I’m afraid she only has a little English—she speaks mainly Xhosa.’
‘Could you tell her that I’m honoured to meet her?’ Niall said, taking the older woman’s hand. The old lady shook his hand warmly.
They sat on the verandah drinking tea as the shadows began to lengthen. Before long there was a group of curious women gathered in front of the house.
‘Sisi,’ they called. ‘Who is this good looking man you have brought to meet your grandmother?’ And then they added something in Xhosa that made Robina blush. She replied in the same language and it seemed from the appreciative laughter that she was giving as good as she got.
Niall could have sat there all afternoon just listening to the babble of voices and looking at Robina. He had never met anyone like her before—she was a strange mix of the modern and the traditional. One moment shy, the next joking with her grandmother’s neighbours and friends. He was happy, he thought, surprised. He hadn’t felt like this since Mairead had died.
Eventually Robina stood. ‘I have one more place to show you,’ she said as she kissed her grandmother goodbye. ‘Unless you want to get back to the hotel?’ she added anxiously. ‘Perhaps you’ve had enough for one day?’
Niall shook his head. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘Right now there is nowhere I’d rather be than with you.’ Robina blushed again at his words and Niall knew she wasn’t immune to him either.
By the time they arrived at their next destination, the sun was beginning to set, casting a rosy hue over the mountains and turning the sea red-gold.
They pulled up outside a house set on its own, almost overhanging a cliff. Niall got out of the car and drank in the views. The front of the house seemed to be almost suspended over the waves that crashed against the rocks, spraying a fine mist. Below was a stretch of beach as far as the eye could see. There were no other houses in sight. They could have been the only people left on the planet. Perfect.
A notice-board outside the house proclaimed that the house was for sale and gave a number for enquiries.
Curious, Niall raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘This was my mother’s parents’ house,’ Robina said. ‘They lived here up until they retired to Gauteng a couple of years ago. They passed it on to my parents after that to use as a holiday cottage. It’s where I spent all my school holidays. Mum and Dad planned to move here when he retired, but then he died. Mum only recently got around to putting it up for sale—she can’t bear the thought of living in it without him. I’ll miss it when it sells.’
Niall followed her down a steep path by the side of the house onto the beach. Robina looked out at the ocean. ‘In spring and summer the whales come in here. When I was a little girl I would sit out here for hours watching them.’
Niall studied her. All of a sudden he had an image of the girl she must have been, sitting on the rocks, her knees pulled to her chest as she dreamed her childhood dreams. He smiled. The image was so different from this cool, elegant woman standing beside him.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Robina asked.
‘I don’t know. This, you, everything. It’s the first time I’ve felt…’ he struggled to find the right words ‘…at peace since Mairead died.’
Niall sat on a rock and threw a stone into the sea, where it skidded across the water.
‘Tell me about her,’ Robina said, finding her own rock close to him to perch on. They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Niall started to speak.
‘I’d known her since I was a child. I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t around. We both grew up in a place called Applecross in the far north-west of Scotland. Our parents were good friends. She was younger than me, and at first she used to irritate me the way she kept hanging around. But eventually, as boys do, I started to notice that she wasn’t a pesky kid any more but a pretty teenager with a mind of her own. I went away to university and when I came back after qualifying I discovered that the once irritating tomboy had turned into a beautiful, funny and amazing woman. We fell in love, married and moved to Edinburgh. We tried for kids for years—I guess that’s what sparked my interest in fertility—and finally we were blessed with Ella. It seemed as if life couldn’t get any better. My career was going well, Mairead loved being a stay-at-home mum, and she seemed content to have only one child. I have never known a woman so satisfied with her lot.’