Praise for Medical™ Romance author Margaret McDonagh:

‘This is such a beautiful, wonderfully told and poignant story that I truly didn’t want it to end. Margaret McDonagh is an exceptional writer of romantic fiction, and with VIRGIN MIDWIFE, PLAYBOY DOCTOR she will tug at your heartstrings, make you cry, and leave you breathless!’ —The Pink Heart Society Reviews

‘Romance does not get any better than this! Margaret McDonagh is a writer readers can always count on to deliver a story that’s poignant, emotional and spellbinding, and AN ITALIAN AFFAIR is no exception!’ —CataRomance.com

It had to be her. He had never seen anyone else with such incredible hair.

His gut tightened as his gaze zeroed in on the back of the woman with the riot of red tresses that fell like a stream of fire to her waist. Old memories, old hurts, old desires stirred within him. He took a moment to breathe deeply and acknowledge the fact that Francesca was really here, that he was close to her after so long. A combination of fate and planning had brought him back to Strathlochan.

And to Francesca Scott.

Luke allowed himself the luxury of savouring the sight of her. Even dressed in her unflattering uniform of white tunic and trousers, she stood out, her five- foot-nine-inch height, shapely figure and eye-catching hair making her impressive and impossible to ignore. She was even more gorgeous than his imagination had suggested she would be. But ten years was a long time. The timid sixteen-year-old girl had matured into a stunning woman.

He ached to touch her, to find out how good she felt now.

But every thought went out of his head when she turned her head and looked at him. All he saw were those remarkable silver-grey eyes—eyes that for years had haunted his dreams and instantly made his insides slam with need. Eyes that widened now in stunned recognition.

‘Luke?’

‘Hello, Chessie.’

Margaret McDonagh says of herself: ‘I began losing myself in the magical world of books from a very young age, and I always knew that I had to write, pursuing the dream for over twenty years, often with cussed stubbornness in the face of rejection letters! Despite having numerous romance novellas, short stories and serials published, the news that my first “proper book” had been accepted by Harlequin Mills & Boon for their Medical™ Romance line brought indescribable joy! I love developing new characters, getting to know them and setting them challenges to overcome. The hardest part is saying goodbye to them, because they become so real to me. And I always fall in love with my heroes! Writing and reading books, keeping in touch with friends, watching sport and meeting the demands of my four-legged companions keeps me well occupied. I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I loved writing it. www.margaretmcdonagh.com margaret.mcdonagh@yahoo.co.uk

Dear Reader

I cannot believe that THE REBEL SURGEON’S PROPOSAL is my tenth Medical™ Romance for Mills & Boon, and my eighth set in and around my fictional world of Strathlochan in rural Scotland. It all began back in October 2006, when my first Medical, THE ITALIAN DOCTOR’S BRIDE, was published. One of the things I love so much about writing these loosely linked stories is never saying a final goodbye to characters I have come to love so much. Each book stands alone, but I hope the feeling of community and interconnected lives is something that you enjoy as a reader, too.

It is now the turn of Strathlochan Hospital’s diagnostic radiographer, Francesca Scott to step out from the shadows. We also meet Luke Devlin, the man who hopes to make her future very different.

Luke and Francesca come from very different backgrounds but they gravitated together growing up… both loners, both having problems at home, both on the outside looking in. Theirs was an unusual friendship, but important to them both. Until they were parted as teenagers ten years ago.

A chance meeting begins this story, sparking a chain of events which brings the past crashing back. Now a surgeon, Luke has a promising career ahead of him—but what matters most is claiming Francesca, and he’ll do whatever is necessary to achieve his goal.

Next in line to tell their stories will be Rico and Ruth and Gus and Holly. I hope you will come along for the ride as these dedicated and caring medical professionals face up to their private fears and personal issues, finding love and happiness in Strathlochan.

Love

Margaret

THE REBEL
SURGEON’S
PROPOSAL

BY

MARGARET MCDONAGH

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Special thanks to all the following,

who have given me so much support and

encouragement, kindness and care…

Jo, Anne, Richard, Chris, Sue H, Liz, Lorraine,

Pam, Maggie, Sue S, Sandy,

Gwen, Gill, Sue R,

Fiona, Lesley, Jennifer, Jackie, Irene and Christine

You are all appreciated beyond words

CHAPTER ONE

February

‘FRANCESCA? My goodness, lass, is that you?’

After responding to a call from the A and E department to carry out a series of emergency X-rays on a road-accident victim, Francesca Scott was returning to the radiology unit when she heard someone call her name. Glancing round, she saw an older woman sitting in a wheelchair at one side of the reception area, separate from the handful of other people who were awaiting attention. Recognition dawned as Francesca observed the plump figure, her gaze travelling over a rounded face framed by short grey curls. A familiar face that was kindly and surprisingly unlined by the ravages of a difficult life…a face that now bore the signs of bruises that had Francesca’s stomach twisting into knots and suspicion sending warning bells ringing in her mind.

Old memories flowed, fast and furious, nearly overwhelming her, making her feel hesitant, vulnerable, taking her back to the girl she had been ten years ago rather than the woman she had since fought to become. Part of her wanted to run, to push the myriad of scary emotions away, but she could never turn her back on the woman who had recognised her and reached out to her. Feeling as if she was crossing some unbridgable chasm to an unknown destination rather than a few feet of floor space, Francesca closed the distance separating them. As she sat on a chair beside the woman, she studied the bruising and noted the way she was cradling her right arm in a sling.

‘Hello, Mrs Devlin.’

A smile bloomed, bringing a twinkle to faded green eyes that displayed pleasure and warmth, making her look much younger than her sixty-three years. ‘It’s wonderful to see you, Francesca!’

‘Thank you. And you. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be here under these circumstances, though.’ Trying to keep barriers erected against anything personal, or anything related to the past, Francesca focused on Sadie Devlin’s injuries and why she had been left alone. ‘Have you been seen, or are you waiting for an X-ray?’

‘I’m not sure what’s happening. The nurse who brought me here from Casualty went off to talk to a friend and hasn’t come back. She’s a bit of a flighty one.’ The admission was made with a mix of wry amusement and a hint of frustration.

Francesca cursed under her breath, pretty sure who the culprit was. ‘Do you know her name?’

‘Olivia, I think. Dyed blonde hair, lots of make-up.’

It figured. She tried to hide her annoyance at wretched Olivia Barr, who had no doubt gone off after some man who had caught her fancy. ‘Is that the X-ray request form?’ she asked, gesturing to the slip the older woman held in her lap.

‘Yes, that’s right. Shall I give it to you?’

‘Please.’ Francesca stood up. ‘I’ll find out what’s going on and get you booked in.’

Mrs Devlin’s relief was obvious. ‘Thanks, lass.’

A quick check at the reception desk with Kim, one of the unit’s clerks, confirmed that Olivia had failed to organise the requested X-rays and had left her charge unattended for some time. After a hectic morning in Radiology, things were beginning to wind down, but as her colleagues on duty were all busy with patients who had prebooked appointments, Francesca offered to handle Sadie Devlin’s case herself.

‘I thought you were on your lunch-break now?’ Kim fretted as she wrote up the necessary paperwork and entered the details on the computer.

‘It’s OK.’ Francesca was determined to ensure that Mrs Devlin did not have to wait another moment before she was made comfortable. ‘I’m no longer on call for A and E and I’ll still have time for a quick snack before I start on the appointments I have scheduled for this afternoon.’

The younger girl smiled as she handed over the file. ‘Thanks, Francesca. I was getting a bit worried, especially when Olivia disappeared and just left the lady there. Things have been so busy I haven’t had a minute, but I was going to speak to her if Olivia didn’t come back soon.’

Making a mental note to have words with the tardy nurse, Francesca returned to Mrs Devlin and wheeled her to a vacant X-ray room.

‘I’m not jumping the queue, am I?’ the thoughtful lady fretted.

‘Not at all. I’m just sorry you had to wait this long.’

Francesca prepared things in readiness to take the required images. As she turned to face the woman once more, dread filled her, a lump forming in her throat as she wondered how to voice her concerns about how she had been hurt.

‘What happened today, Mrs Devlin? Did you have an accident or…?’ Her words trailed off and she cursed the tinge of colour that warmed her pale cheeks, betraying her discomfort and, no doubt, making the direction of her thoughts all too clear.

Mrs Devlin sent her an understanding smile as the unspoken question hung in the air between them. ‘It’s all right, Francesca. Really. Yours is a natural assumption to make, after all. But on this occasion it was all my own fault. I climbed onto a chair to change a lightbulb. So silly of me.’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘It was more rickety than I thought, and when it gave way, I overbalanced. The next moment I was on the floor. Instinct had me putting my hand out to save myself. I knew right away that my arm was broken.’

‘Did you hit your head at all?’

‘No, but I grazed my face on the chair as I fell…hence the bruises. The nice doctor in Casualty was very thorough checking me over and my arm seems to be the only worry.’

‘That’s good news.’ She smiled, relieved there was nothing more serious going on. ‘Let’s get these X-rays taken, then.’

‘Francesca…’

A change in the tone of voice alerted her and she looked up, seeing both determination and the shadows of past pain in the older woman’s green eyes. ‘Yes?’

‘Mick, my husband, died five years ago.’ The announcement was delivered after a short pause and without emotion, but a welter of meaning resonated in those seven words.

Francesca bit her lip, unsure what to say. She couldn’t express sorrow for the loss of a man who had been brutal and cruel, at whose hands Mrs Devlin and her three children had suffered for years and whose often violent crimes had led to several spells in prison.

The woman reached out with her uninjured hand to pat Francesca’s arm. ‘You don’t have to say anything, lass. I know what people thought of him—of us as a family. Many wondered why I stayed, but it was for the children. I couldn’t abandon them and Mick would never have let me take them away from him. My being there gave them some protection.’

Only at the expense of her own, Francesca wanted to protest, but held her tongue. She was angry on Mrs Devlin’s behalf, she always had been, but even through the impotence of youthful rage, she had also long admired her courage and her love for her children. Not that all of them had deserved her selflessness. It was true that everyone in Strathlochan had known the history of the Devlin family and had spoken of them—the men, at least—with disgust and wariness. Rumours and prejudices had been rife about them and Francesca had grown up fearing Mr Devlin and the two older boys, Jon and Pete, who had shown all the signs of following in their father’s unsavoury footsteps.

Her own home life had been nothing to write home about but for all the problems surrounding the Devlins, Francesca had always envied them Sadie. Her care for her children had been obvious, even for Jon and Pete, who had repaid her dedication so shabbily. To Francesca, Sadie Devlin was all a mother should be…the kind of mother she herself had always longed for. So many times growing up she had admired her from afar, had played make-believe in her mind, pretending Sadie was her mother and that someone loved her for herself, always had a kind word for her, a ready hug. Reality had always intruded—a reality without the love and cuddles and kind words she had so craved.

Pushing aside unwanted memories, thoughts of things she had long since tried to banish and shut away in a dark, secret part of her mind, Francesca focused on her task, being as gentle as she could as she positioned the injured arm so she could capture the clearest picture of the suspected fracture. Explaining exactly what she was doing and ensuring her patient was as comfortable as possible, Francesca retreated to the protected cubicle while the X-ray was taken.

‘I need to take one more picture from another angle and then we’ll be finished,’ she explained, returning to the main room. ‘I’ll be as careful as I can.’ Even so, Mrs Devlin winced as her arm was moved and repositioned. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t worry, lass, it has to be done.’

Francesca worked swiftly to minimise any discomfort and, once she had completed the X-rays, resettled Mrs Devlin’s arm in the supportive sling. The images were soon ready to send to the A and E department but there was still no sign of Olivia Barr. Angry that the nurse had deserted her patient, Francesca decided to return Mrs Devlin to Casualty herself.

‘How long have you been back in Strathlochan, lass?’

The question caught Francesca by surprise, once more reawakening things she wished to keep dormant and in permanent hibernation. ‘Nearly three years now,’ she confided as she guided the wheelchair down the maze of corridors that were so familiar to her but could easily confuse the unwary.

‘And you like it here at the hospital?’ Sadie probed.

‘I do. I love my job.’

Saying the words out loud confirmed the truth of them. For the first time in her life she felt she fitted somewhere, Francesca admitted. She relished the variety of the work she did, both within the radiological unit itself and when she was on call to A and E. The buzz and uncertainty of the emergency work appealed to her, being quite different from the order and organisation of the unit and set appointments.

As a rule, she wasn’t good with people, but she enjoyed the interaction with her patients, devoting herself to their care and doing her best for them while they were in her charge. Outside her professional life, once she shed her work persona, she avoided people as much as possible. She knew that her nickname around the hospital was the Ice Maiden but it didn’t bother her. The people who dubbed her that knew nothing about her or her life. She got on all right with most of her colleagues in the work environment, but any kind of social interaction made her uncomfortable.

She had a few people she counted as friends. One was A and E doctor Annie Webster, who was currently recovering from a frightening incident when she had been attacked while on duty three weeks ago, an assault that had nearly killed her. It had been a scary time and still made Francesca shiver when she thought of it. She had been on call in A and E when the assault had occurred and had done the ultrasound scan that had shown the flooding of blood into Annie’s pericardium from the stab wound to her heart.

Annie was now home and making a good recovery from the emergency thoracotomy that had saved her life. Francesca had been to visit her friend several times and, in the process, she was getting to know Annie’s fiancé, Nathan Shepherd, another trauma doctor who had recently come to Strathlochan to be with Annie. Theirs was a romantic story—not that Francesca had much time for romance. Not for herself, anyway. But she was very glad Annie was happy.

Francesca thought of the few other friends she had allowed into her life since her return to Strathlochan, including married doctors Cameron Kincaid and Ginger O’Neill, who ran the local Ackerman Centre for self-harm and eating disorders. Then there were nurse Gina McNaught and her Italian fiancé, Dr Seb Adriani, now working at the town’s new multi-purpose drop-in centre, and Frazer and Callie McInnes, both connected to Strathlochan’s air ambulance. Callie was a paramedic, but she had given up her flying role now she was pregnant, while flight doctor Frazer was considering returning to a hospital-based job when the baby was born.

Generally, though, she preferred animals to people, Francesca acknowledged. Animals didn’t let you down, didn’t judge you, didn’t lie or deceive.

‘It was a shock to discover you and your mother had left Strathlochan. We had no clue where you had gone,’ Sadie continued, startling Francesca from her wayward thoughts and surprising her even more that her absence had been noted at all. ‘And I’m so glad I’ve seen you today, lass. I had no idea you were home.’

Home. Francesca was relieved that she was behind the older woman so Sadie could not see her reaction to that word. She didn’t want to think of home, of childhood and all that meant. Once she had finished school after her Highers exams and had been old enough to make her own decisions, she had packed up and gone, deaf to the inducements, threats and promises of change. She’d ended up in Edinburgh where she had done her four-year training to be a diagnostic radiographer, a career that appealed to her interest in science and technology and, through her sporting activity, in anatomy and physiology.

Coming back to Strathlochan to take this job had been an act of defiance as much as anything else. It had been something she had felt she had to do and to face, even if no one but her understood the significance of it or knew of her inner struggle. She had carved out a good life here, had faced the demons and the memories, had moved on and was more settled than she had ever imagined she could be. The job provided constant variety and gave her independence to make decisions. Unlike some of her colleagues, she didn’t even mind the night shifts…indeed, she enjoyed them. Especially given the way the forward-thinking Trust ran Strathlochan’s hospital and medical services.

The local health board’s innovative management was one of the things that had impressed her so much when she had taken the job back here. Thought had been given to improving working conditions for doctors, nurses and other clinicians. While they still worked hard, and for long hours, their shifts had been changed from the old-style patterns still in place in many hospitals. In Strathlochan most now worked a rotation of five days on, two days off, three nights on and three days off. It had worked well and the majority of staff appreciated the schedule. It not only improved general quality of life, but it had created good teamwork and aided patient care.

Arriving back in the A and E department, Francesca checked Sadie back in at Reception and asked to speak to the doctor in charge of her case. She was relieved to discover it was Nathan Shepherd, not only because she felt comfortable working with him but because she knew his reputation for looking after his patients was fantastic. Sadie was in the best of hands. She gave Nathan the X-ray images, which showed a clean, straightforward Colles’ fracture of the radius near the wrist, a common injury and one which, in Sadie’s case, showed no displacement or angulation and which would need no manipulation. She also took a moment to inform him of Olivia Barr’s dereliction of duty.

From the anger and resignation in Nathan’s dark eyes, she didn’t imagine he was surprised at the news. ‘I’ll take care of it, Francesca,’ he promised, and she knew the transgression would not go unpunished.

‘How’s Annie doing?’

A rare smile softened his handsome face. ‘She’s getting better every day. Thanks for asking. Are you coming round to see her again soon?’

‘I’ll pop in on my way home after work,’ she promised. ‘I have my days off next week before starting a night shift so I’ll ask her if she’d like to have lunch then.’

‘Annie will be delighted. She always loves seeing you—you’re a great friend.’

Francesca gave a nod and stepped back, both warmed and yet unsettled by Nathan’s words, still edgy at the very concept of friendship and being emotionally close to people, even those she liked as much as she did Annie. ‘I’ll just say goodbye to Mrs Devlin, then I have to get back to the unit.’

‘Is she special to you?’ Nathan queried with evident interest.

‘I grew up here in Strathlochan.’ She paused, unsure what to say, how much to explain. ‘She was good to me when I was young.’

‘I’ll take care of her.’

Grateful for his understanding, she went to see her charge settled in the cubicle where Nathan would discuss her fracture and explain what was to be done. Francesca lingered a moment longer, feeling the pull of the past and stirrings of her childhood affection for this woman.

‘Are you going to be all right?’ A frown of concern creased her brow. The nature of her job meant she usually had only a brief connection with each patient, but she always did her best for those in her care. ‘Will you be able to get home?’

‘My next-door neighbour brought me in and is waiting for me.’

Partially reassured, Francesca smiled. ‘And will you be able to manage while your arm is in plaster? Is there anything I can do to help? Any shopping you need picked up?’ The offer was out before she could retract it, but the woman was shaking her head, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

‘It’s kind of you to worry about me, lass, and I much appreciate your thoughtfulness. But as soon as Luke hears what I have done he’ll be insisting I go to stay with him so he can take care of me. That boy would wrap me in cotton wool given half a chance,’ Mrs Devlin confided with a laugh.

Luke.

Francesca closed her eyes. Her heart lurched and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. Luke…the youngest son. So different from his scary, no-good father and bullying, troublesome brothers. Just hearing his name brought an overwhelming welter of emotions. To say she’d not thought of Luke in ages would be a lie. He had invaded her thoughts and her dreams with worrying regularity during the last decade. Seeing his mother again had opened up thoughts and feelings she had long tried to lock away because there was too much pain and longing and confusion. Luke, who had left town ten years ago when he had been eighteen. They’d had an unusual friendship. Nothing more. Yet she had built Luke up in her lonely teenage mind as her hero, had looked to him as her protector. Which was why her sixteen-year-old heart had been so broken, and why she had felt so betrayed when he had gone without a word, without so much as a backwards glance.

Unsettled by the tidal wave of disturbing memories, she said a hasty goodbye to Sadie, wishing her a speedy recovery. And then she fled. She didn’t want to think about Luke. Not after all this time. But however much she tried to fool herself to the contrary, she had never forgotten him. He was in her head far too frequently, a hazy shadow on the edge of her consciousness, giving her no rest.

Francesca squared her shoulders and gave herself a stern talking to as she walked back to the radiology unit, any thought of a hasty lunch forgotten in the need to bury herself in work to block out old hurts and disturbing memories.

She had been nothing to Luke. He hadn’t even known she had existed and had likely never thought about her again after he had left town. Growing up and forgetting all about him was long overdue.

Luke Devlin was in the past…and that was where he was going to stay.

The phone was ringing as Luke Devlin let himself into his soulless London flat. It was situated on the second floor of a small, purpose-built block on a noisy street within walking distance of the hospital where he worked…a street jammed with traffic and people and where the buildings crowded together, pressing in on him. It made him feel claustrophobic and long for the wide-open spaces and clean air of his home town of Strathlochan in Scotland.

Even after a decade he hadn’t really settled in London. He’d lived in this flat for four years and still didn’t know his neighbours. And, as much as he enjoyed his work and got along well with his colleagues on a professional level, he had few friends socially. Once a loner, always a loner. Or was the stigma of his name and his background so ingrained in him that he subconsciously put up barriers and kept people at a distance?

Dog tired, he cursed under his breath as the phone continued its insistent ring. He knew he had to answer it. But if it was one of the orthopaedic team calling him back to the hospital, he was not going to be pleased. He’d been up for a stupid number of hours and all he could think about was a hot shower before falling into bed. He was too exhausted to even bother to eat. Shrugging off his well-worn leather jacket and leaving it draped haphazardly over the back of the sofa, he flopped into an armchair, picked up the cordless handset and barked his name.

‘Devlin.’

‘Hello, love. You sound grumpy and worn out. Has it been a tough day?’

‘No more than usual, Ma.’ A smile came unbidden in response to the familiar voice. God, he missed her. The one constant in his life. ‘How are you?’ A too-long pause had his instincts on red alert. ‘Ma? What’s happened?’

The answering chuckle eased some of his tension. ‘I have good news and bad news.’

‘Tell me the bad news first.’ Leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out, he tried to relax muscles that were stiff and aching after long hours standing at the operating table, assisting his boss in complicated spinal surgery.

‘Don’t be cross with me, Luke, I’m absolutely fine,’ his mother began, immediately warning him that she was far from all right. ‘I had a little accident and broke my arm.’

‘Ma!’

She tutted soothingly. ‘Now, then, don’t take on, Luke. The nice doctor at Strathlochan Hospital told me that it’s a clean and simple break and it should heal without problems.’

‘What did you do?’ Shaking his head, he listened to his mother’s confession, knowing there was no point in reprimanding her for acting so foolishly. ‘Are you in pain?’

‘It was very sore but I have some pills and I’m much more comfortable now it’s in plaster,’ she reassured him.

His weary brain rallied, thoughts and questions rushing at him. ‘Which doctor did you see?’ Meticulous at work but not the tidiest of people at home, he had to rummage through the clutter on the table near his chair to find a pad and pen.

He jotted down the name Nathan Shepherd, planning on ringing straight away to get the full information first hand and, if possible, to ask to see a copy of the X-ray. As a specialist orthopaedic registrar, bones were his life, and he wanted to satisfy himself that all was well with his mother’s arm.

‘How are you going to manage at home alone, Ma?’ he asked, voicing his concerns.

Despite a strong effort on his part, she refused to allow him to return to Scotland to collect her. Not that he had anticipated anything else. But a few moments later, and with suspiciously little argument, he did persuade her to come down to London on the train and stay with him for a while. He’d be much happier having her close so he could keep an eye on her progress. Her agreement had been too easy, however, and he was wary. He knew his mother. She was up to something.

‘You said there was good news, as well,’ he reminded her, allowing himself the luxury of relaxing again.

‘I did. And there is! You’ll never guess who took my X-rays.’

Luke rolled his eyes as his mother, ever the one for spinning out a good yarn, paused for effect. ‘I hope this person was kind to you.’

‘Oh, she was wonderful,’ his mother gushed, clearly smitten. Luke hid a groan, hoping this was not part of another unsubtle and completely pointless matchmaking plan. He was grateful, however, to the unknown woman who had apparently shown his mother such care, a fact she now confirmed as she related the tale of being abandoned by the unprofessional nurse and the subsequent rescue by the radiographer. ‘She was very gentle and very kind, and she looked after me so well.’

‘And what is the name of this paragon?’ he asked, knowing his mother would persist until he gave in and deciding to get it over with.

‘Francesca Scott.’

Luke forgot how to breathe. A knot tightened in his chest and it felt as if his heart had stopped beating altogether before it resumed pumping at a rapid rate. Somehow he sucked a ragged breath into parched lungs. Gripping the phone so hard his knuckles were stark white, he sat up straight in the chair, every part of him at full attention.

‘What did you say?’ He demanded clarification, knowing he must have been wrong, must have been hearing things.

‘It’s true, Luke.’ His mother’s voice softened with the confirmation, filling with awareness of the importance of her words. ‘Apparently Francesca has been working at the hospital for nearly three years. I had no idea. After seeing her, I made a few discreet enquiries. I didn’t learn much but there are one or two things you might be interested to hear.’

He was interested, all right, although it took a few moments for the rest of the information to register over the roaring in his ears and the rushing of blood through his veins. One vital fact took precedence. Francesca was back. Scattered images and memories of long ago fired through his brain almost too fast for him to catch hold of them. Francesca as a coltish young girl, courageous and loyal. Friendless, just like him. Alone, just like him. Hurting and trying so desperately not to show it…just like him. So much in common, so much silent, mutual understanding, yet a chasm as wide as an ocean had yawned between their lives and their backgrounds.

His father had not wanted him to continue his education but even then Luke had stood up to him, knowing what he wanted and that his brain was his ticket out, the key to his future. It had paid off. The last violent row had happened the day he had finished his final Advanced Higher exam. He’d been eighteen, forced to leave home, to escape his father—needing, too, to follow his dream to be a doctor and prove himself.

Leaving his mother had been an impossible wrench, with the added worry of what might happen to her when he was not there to protect her, but she had been adamant he go, as selfless as ever. Battered and bruised, he’d slipped away like a thief in the night to lick his wounds. Then he had worked hard to establish a place at medical school in London, doing extra jobs to pay his way and finding somewhere to live so that his mother could come to him—as she had, living in London until his father had died and it had been safe for her to return home.

And then there had been Francesca. He’d felt bad leaving her behind but she had been just sixteen, tied to her home and shackled by her own problems. There had been nothing he could do. Not then. But he had never forgotten. Three years later, unable to get her out of his head, needing to know what had become of her, he had gone back for her, but she and her mother had vanished. After several unsuccessful attempts to find her, he had begun to give up hope of seeing her again.

Until now.

Because Francesca was back. And, as the information his mother imparted sank in, seeds were sown…seeds that immediately took root, germinated and began to grow with a life of their own. He had no idea what Francesca’s life was like now, what she would say when she saw him again—hell, he didn’t even know if she remembered him, if he had been any more than a blip on her consciousness a decade ago. But an inner demon possessed him and he couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let her go. Not without knowing, once and for all.

It was crazy to act so spontaneously, to jeopardise all he had built here, but he knew what he had to do and nothing or no one was going to stop him. His boss, Professor James Fielding-Smythe, renowned orthopaedic surgeon, brilliant, impatient and demanding, would have a fit when he found out, but Luke didn’t care. Whatever scathing criticism and shameless cajoling came from the crusty old professor, Luke was not going to be diverted.

Not now Fate had tipped his hand.

Not now he knew that Francesca was in Strathlochan.

Not now he had a plan.

CHAPTER TWO

8 weeks later—April

IT HAD to be her. He had never seen anyone else with such incredible hair.

Luke stared at the four figures walking ahead of him down the hospital corridor, two male and two female. But only one held his attention. His gut tightened as his gaze zeroed in on the back of the woman with the riot of red tresses restrained in a thick plait that fell like a stream of fire to her waist. Old memories, old hurts, old desires stirred within him. He took a moment to breathe deeply and acknowledge the fact that Francesca was really here, that he was close to her after so long.

It had taken eight weeks and had necessitated turning his life upside down to get here, incurring the ire of Professor James Fielding-Smythe when no threats or inducements could persuade him to change his mind about leaving. To be fair, once he had known he was defeated, the prof had given in— if not entirely gracefully. His reference had been glowing, however, and his backing invaluable in rapidly securing Luke’s new job.

But even with his goal firmly in mind, Luke had experienced some uncertainty about coming back to Strathlochan. This was the town where he had known so much strife and unhappiness as a child, where he had been judged and labelled, ostracised as a teenager, written off because of the reputation of his father and his older brothers. Damned from birth because he carried the Devlin name. Yet he had felt stifled in London, had missed his home environment, the freedom of the forests and the hills. And, he acknowledged, a part of him still felt the need to prove himself, to show the bastards they couldn’t beat him, that they had been wrong about him. To prove that he was worth something, that he was different from the rest of the men in the Devlin family.

A combination of fate and planning had brought him back to Strathlochan. And to Francesca Scott. Whilst he would never wish any harm to befall the mother he loved and respected beyond measure, the accident that had led to her broken arm had turned out to be fortuitous. Lady Luck was shining on him for once in his life. A slow smile curved his mouth as he watched Francesca’s rear view, the natural sway of her hips, unintentionally provocative and classically feminine. His mother had not exaggerated when she had said that the coltish girl had grown into a beautiful woman, fulfilling the promise that had always been there through her youth.

Francesca…

Whilst he remained unobserved, Luke allowed himself the luxury of savouring the sight of her. Even dressed in her unflattering uniform of white tunic and trousers, she stood out, her five-foot-nine-inch height, shapely figure and eye-catching hair making her impressive and impossible to ignore. He enjoyed another leisurely perusal, from the sweep of her slender back, over the appealing curve of her bottom and down long, athletically graceful legs. A runner’s legs. Legs he had always dreamed would wrap around him as he sank deep inside her silken heat. He never had. Not yet. But he would. Even when times had been at their most desperate and finding her again had seemed impossible, he had always known he was destined to claim her, that he and Francesca were meant to be together.

The group stopped at a junction in the corridor and, as Francesca half turned to talk to her colleagues, Luke could see the swell of lush, ripe breasts under her fitted tunic. A fresh lick of desire ran through him, tightening his gut. She was even more gorgeous than his imagination had suggested she would be. But ten years was a long time. The timid sixteen-year-old girl had matured into a stunning woman.

As he slowly closed the distance between them, he absorbed her perfect bone structure, the curve of her jaw, the sensuous mouth, the creamy skin that had been as soft and velvety as a peach. He ached to touch her, to find out how good she felt now. Then there was that hair…the thick and lustrous rich red corkscrew curls. One hundred per cent natural and unique, just like the rest of her. Let loose, those curls would cascade around her shoulders and down her back like living flames. His fingers itched to bury themselves in the silken, fiery mass, to have the strands caressing his skin, to see them fanned out across his pillows.

Francesca had always been a lady—and way out of his league. She appeared as graceful and stylish ten years on, enough that just looking at her reminded him of the chasm that had yawned between them. The classy girl who, outwardly, had appeared to have everything and the boy from the wrong side of the tracks with the bad reputation. Flickers of anger and doubt churned in his gut. What made him think he had any more right to be around her now than he had a decade ago? Yes, he had changed. He’d beaten his background, his father’s legacy, and had made a success of himself, had shown he was his own man. Had Francesca changed, too? If she remembered him at all, would she view him as she once had or would she now regard him in the same way the rest of the town had always looked on a Devlin male…as something dirty to be wiped off the undersides of their shoes?

He needed to look into her eyes, to know what lurked there now, to see if the sadness and innocence had gone, to judge her expression as she faced him unprepared. As he neared her, she frowned at whatever was being discussed. He sensed her tension, her discomfort in the presence of her colleagues, noting the way she moved back to maintain her personal space. At once he felt protective, ready to step in if needed, just as he had all those years ago when he had put himself between her and the bullies at school.

But every thought went out of his mind when she turned her head and looked at him. All he saw were those remarkable silver-grey eyes—eyes that for years had haunted his dreams and instantly made his insides slam with need. Eyes that widened now in stunned recognition.

‘Luke?’

His name was a whisper of breath on her lips. He stood still under her swift observation of him, aware of the curious glances of her colleagues. Her gaze skimmed his face and clashed with his own once more.

‘Hello, Chessie.’

‘My God, it is you.’ Shocking him with her unexpected boldness, she stepped forward and slid her arms around him in a welcoming hug he had never dreamed she would initiate. That his surprise appearance had knocked her so off balance that she acted this out of character took his breath away. ‘It’s been years.’

Ten long, solitary years. Instinctively his arms closed around her, drawing her as tightly against him as he dared without alarming her. One hand splayed across the small of her back, tempted by the enticing swell of her rear, while the other hand indulged in feeling the silken strands of hair bound now in the braid—a braid he wanted to knot around his wrist so he could draw back her head and plunder her mouth with his own. He somehow managed to resist both urges to touch and to taste.

What he couldn’t resist was to nuzzle into her to breathe in her very essence. Her subtle scent, flowery and sensual, teased his nostrils, sparking his desire anew, reminding him of the one other time in his life he had been able to hold her this close for far too short a time. Then she had been a girl, now he felt the woman…all soft curves and feminine sweetness. The seductive press of firm, perfect breasts against his chest that made him want nothing more than to bare them, shape them, taste them, bury his face against them. Francesca belonged in his arms, in his bed. And if all went to plan—if dreams really did come true—she would be there. Soon.

With regret, he allowed her retreat as soon as he sensed her withdrawal. She stepped back a pace, failing to mask her confusion at her effusive welcome of him, uncertainty evident in the slightly slanted mesmerising grey eyes fringed by long, thick, sooty lashes. The young Francesca would have been too shy and scared to approach anyone, much less have physical contact with them. He could tell from her growing tension that the reticence to touch and be touched outside a professional setting remained, and that her initial, instinctive response to him had shocked her. All of which confirmed that deep inside Francesca hadn’t changed that much and that he needed to be gentle and patient with her.

Luke watched the play of emotions across her face as she pulled herself together. The scattering of freckles he remembered so well dusted the ivory skin across her high cheekbones and over her small, straight nose…freckles that had always intrigued him. He longed to know where else on her body she had them, wanted to kiss each and every one.

Her lips held his attention next. Unadorned and dusky pink, they were the perfect shape, the top lip with its Cupid’s bow and the sensual curve of the fuller lower lip. A mouth that was made for kissing, a mouth he yearned to taste. He searched her eyes, relieved to see in those silvery depths a memory of the girl she had been. A hint of the innocence was there, the aloneness, as was the acceptance of him for who he was, and he was thankful the years had not hardened her or coloured her view of him.

Now he needed to spend time with her, to learn about the woman she had become, to begin to draw her back in to him. ‘Are you in a rush? Do you have some time to talk?’

He knew she was free because he had found out her schedule and planned his business at the hospital to ensure that he saw her. But would she admit it or would she try to fob him off? The outcome was crucial and uncharacteristic nervousness fluttered inside him as he waited for her answer.

‘I’m on my lunch-break.’ Her smile, tentative though it was, warmed him from the inside out, but it was her ready agreement that pleased him most. He waited as she turned to excuse herself from the colleagues who were still hovering nearby. ‘Is it all right if we talk about this later?’

‘If we must, Francesca.’ The lukewarm comment came from one of the men, his gaze speculative and not entirely friendly as he looked at Luke.

Luke returned the appraisal coolly, issuing a silent warning of his own, wondering if the guy had designs on the lady himself. Tough. Now he had found her again, he wasn’t making way for any other man to make a move on her. Stepping closer to her side, he settled a proprietorial hand at the small of Francesca’s back, feeling the jolt spear through him as the connection was made. He steered her down the top-floor corridor in the direction of the staff canteen before anyone could detain them or she could change her mind.

Francesca could not believe Luke was here, in the flesh, as if she had conjured him up from her dreams. Dreams that had plagued her in the past eight weeks since she had seen his mother. Eight weeks in which she had been unable to get Luke out of her mind, despite telling herself countless times that she had to forget about him. She had never expected to see him again but here he was, very much a man in place of the boy he had been ten years ago, but even more seductive, wicked and drop-dead gorgeous than she remembered.

Six feet three inches of solid, leanly muscled male. Dressed in dark grey chinos and a shirt a couple of shades lighter, he looked smart but casual, definitely not a man anyone would ignore. The top button was undone, the open collar displaying the strong column of his throat, while the shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing foreams lightly dusted with golden hair. His hands were well shaped and attractive, the nails neat and cared for—and one of those hands remained on her back, branding her skin through the thin fabric of her tunic. A ripple of awareness ran along her spine, centring on that touch, on the closeness of his body as he walked beside her, brushing against her with every step. She could feel his warmth, detect the earthy, musky aroma of him that teased and excited her senses. What was wrong with her? She never reacted like this, and certainly never noticed the way a man smelled, for goodness’ sake!

Her pulse racing, her body burning, she cast a furtive glance at Luke from the corner of her eye. Collar-length dark blond hair, shot through with lighter strands, framed a strong, far-too-handsome face, a seductive mouth that promised sin and those startling green eyes, watchful, intent and clever, but gleaming with devilment. Oh…there was little doubt that the bad boy still lurked within Luke Devlin! She had only just seen him again after a gap of ten years, yet she could tell that there was so much more behind the relaxed outward image he portrayed. Anyone who wrote him off as some kind of lazy surfer character would be in for a surprise—ignore the sharp intelligence at your peril.

She had yet to recover from the shock of acting so out of character that she had boldly stepped up and hugged him. It was as if some inner compulsion had taken her over, driving her to do something she would never normally do. Whatever had possessed her? She didn’t touch people. Not voluntarily, personally, not beyond what was necessary for work. And she hated to be touched. Yet her first instinct had been to embrace Luke. Brazenly. She had initiated the contact, had enjoyed it, had not wanted to let him go. She had been drawn to him rather than holding herself apart, excited rather than repelled, aroused rather than turned off. Being in Luke’s arms had felt right. And that scared her.

Francesca very much feared that however much she had tried to convince herself to the contrary over the years, she had never got Luke out of her head…or her heart. But there had never been a future for them beyond her foolish imagination. If Luke had ever been aware of her at all, it could only have been as the annoying girl who had hung around on the periphery—always on the outside, looking in.

For years growing up she had watched Luke from afar but they had come from such different worlds. Her own, materially rich but emotionally poor, had been strict and repressed, governed and controlled by her domineering mother, while Luke’s had been rough and wild, coloured by the Devlin reputation, his father and older brothers always in trouble with the law. Not that she had ever believed the things they had said about Luke. He’d been nothing like the other Devlin men. Luke had never been anything but kind to her, as protective as an older brother, her hero, her secret love, until he had vanished ten years ago.

Francesca realised with despair that she was even more attracted to Luke now than when she had been a shy, awkward teenager. A shiver of remembered embarrassment ran through her as she recalled the day the bullies had shoved her at him in the playground, daring her to kiss him. She would never forget Luke’s kindness, his understanding. Or the unexpected, wildly exciting passion as he had given her her first ever kiss, a kiss she had never forgotten to this day. A kiss by which she had judged every one she had received since…finding them all lacking.

Her gaze slid from the green fire in Luke’s eyes to the sultry curve of his lips. How would they feel now? What would the kiss of the man be like compared to the kiss of the boy? She smothered a gasp of shock as the very thought caused her breasts to swell with arousal. Her nipples peaked as she imagined the heat of his mouth on her flesh, his hands touching her all over, and a coil of fire tightened her womb and pooled between her legs. Dear heaven! This was crazy.

Shocked by her thoughts and her body’s instinctive, betraying reaction, she allowed Luke to open the door for her and she stepped ahead of him into the canteen, both regretful and thankful when the disturbing touch of his hand dropped from her back. After selecting their food—a tuna salad for her and lasagne for him—they headed to a free table. Francesca was aware of the curious glances from fellow staff members and could imagine some of what they were thinking, seeing her with a man like Luke. She knew what they called her, and why, but, then, she had spent her whole life having people talk behind her back and call her names. Except Luke. For all their differences, the opposing reasons why it was so, they had shared that understanding, that empathy. Of being the outsider, alone, unwanted.

‘Am I imagining it or are people staring at us?’ Luke asked, the relaxed ease with which he sat down in contrast with the tight edge to his voice.

‘No. People are probably shocked to see me here with you.’

Luke’s expression hardened. ‘Because I’m a Devlin?’

‘Of course not,’ she corrected him, displaying a hint of the inner steel it had been necessary for her to develop long ago to survive. ‘I doubt they would even know, Luke, much less care. It’s not you, it’s me.’

‘Why would that be?’

Francesca found herself captured by the expression in his magnetic green eyes—protective, sultry, intense. As if he was interested in her and what she had to say. As if she mattered. Clearing her throat of the sudden lump that seemed to have lodged there, and trying to clear her mind of her foolish fancies, she focused on her lunch as she answered his question.

‘I’m known as the Ice Maiden around here.’

She had strived for a self-mocking tone, one that would signify that she didn’t care a scrap what anyone said about her. That she hadn’t quite pulled it off was obvious from the tiny pulse along Luke’s tensed jawline and the narrowing of green eyes that flared with annoyance and the same kind of defensive gleam she remembered from their schooldays when he had been her self-appointed guardian.

‘Are you, now?’ He took a forkful of food, his gaze straying round the room, the challenge in them unmistakable to anyone who looked at him. ‘I doubt they’ll be calling you that much longer.’

It felt good to know that Luke’s instinctive reaction was still to take her side without question. But she was an adult now, used to fighting her own battles. Besides, he was just visiting, passing through. She couldn’t allow herself to get used to seeing him again, or to come to rely on him being her buffer against the difficult and hurtful things that sometimes happened.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop looking at him, searching out all that was familiar, learning all the changes maturity had brought to his far-too-handsome features. The dark blond hair was streaked by natural highlights and the sun. A couple of stray locks tumbled in reckless disarray across his forehead, adding to his rakish appeal. His face was masculine, strong, compelling, his nose straight, his cheeks lean, his clean-shaven jaw determined. She forced herself not to linger any longer on the temptation of his mouth, disturbed that she, who was always so cool and so uninterested in men, felt such a buzz of sexual awareness whenever she was near Luke.

The next moment she was looking into mesmerising green eyes, eyes that held a hint of mischief that stole her breath and a darkly sensual intent that shocked her and made her tingle all over. All manner of questions chased one another through her mind. Why was Luke in Strathlochan? What coincidence had brought them together in the hospital corridor at that moment in time? Where had he been these last ten years? What had he done with his life? Was he single? The last crashed her back to reality and fired a warning through her. It was no business of hers what he did and who he was with. Luke was a forbidden fantasy from her past. That was all. It would be wise for her to remember that rather than let her imagination, and this surprise meeting, run away with her.

‘How is your mother, Luke?’ she asked, seeking safer territory as they finished their meal. ‘I saw her recently when she came in after breaking her arm.’

‘I know, and I’ve been wanting to thank you. Ma told me how wonderful you were with her.’

His genuine gratitude, and his obvious care for his mother, warmed her. ‘I was pleased to help. Has she recovered now?’

‘She had the cast off two weeks ago and is fine. She came down to stay with me in London for a while but was glad to get back home.’ He pushed his empty plate aside and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, the action somehow making him feel much closer. Green eyes watched her intently. ‘It was thanks to Ma that I knew you were back in Strathlochan.’

‘I see.’

Francesca didn’t see at all. The remains of her lunch forgotten, she struggled to draw air into lungs that suddenly seemed compressed, and her heart thudded beneath her ribs as she tried to make sense of Luke’s words. She wasn’t aware he had ever known she had left Strathlochan and she found it hard to believe he had thought of her at all these last ten years. Conscious that her hands were shaking, she hid them under the table, clasping them in her lap, not at all sure what was going on here. And why couldn’t she break the spell Luke seemed to hold over her? Despite being in a room crowded with people and filled with noisy chatter, being with Luke felt incredibly intimate, everyone and everything else fading to the background.

‘So, have you been in London since you left town?’ she asked, struggling for a nonchalance she was far from feeling.

‘Yeah. I worked the first weeks at a hotel which had the benefit of giving me a roof over my head and food in my belly.’ The quick smile was wry and did curious things to her insides. ‘I’d applied to several medical schools and was delighted to get the results I needed in my Advanced Highers to take up the place I really wanted.’

The import of his words sank in. ‘You’re a doctor. That’s great.’

‘You’re not surprised?’ he asked, his expression curiously blank.

‘Why would I be?’

This time the smile had a harder edge and no humour. ‘I’m a Devlin, remember? We never amount to much.’

‘Don’t say that, Luke.’ Her protest was swift, her anger rising that people who knew nothing about him could pass judgement, but also that he should ever believe the ignorant gossips. She managed to resist the urge to reach out to him, instead clenching the hand that had moved so instinctively into a fist on top of the table. ‘You were the brightest, cleverest person I knew, not to mention the most thoughtful. And you worked hard. You were never going to be like them, were always going to make something of your life.’

One eyebrow, several shades darker than his hair, rose questioningly. ‘You thought that?’

‘Of course.’

‘I wish I’d had the same belief!’ His teasing faded, the expression in his watchful green eyes sober once more. ‘You were always different, weren’t you, Chessie? And I don’t mean that,’ he interjected as she stiffened involuntarily, accurately judging her train of thought, knowing of her past when she had been growing up. He moved, one fingertip resting lightly on the back of her tensed hand. Even that simple touch scalded her skin. ‘I mean, in the way you saw me as a human being rather than an extension of a bad family,’ he clarified, his finger brushing softly back and forth, sending a tremor right through her. Green eyes turned darker with an emotion she couldn’t identify and his voice was serious and almost wistful when he spoke again. ‘I’ve never forgotten the faith and trust you always granted me, or the way you stood up for me.’

Francesca had no idea what to say. She wanted to remove her hand from his caress and her gaze from his, but her body refused to obey her. ‘Are you here to see your mother?’ she asked as, shaken, she struggled to gather her composure, keen to put away the emotional memories yet unable to resist the temptation to discover more about the man he was now.

‘That’s one benefit of it.’

The cryptic response roused her interest but also made her edgy and left her feeling there was more he had to tell her, something important she had yet to grasp. ‘One benefit of what?’ she whispered, all too conscious that she sounded less like the confident, independent woman she had become and more the breathless, tongue-tied teenager of old.

For the longest moment, the very air seemed to still as she waited for Luke’s answer. His hand enclosed hers, warm and strong yet exquisitely gentle as he linked their fingers together. Francesca thought she might go up in flames, not only from the contact but from the smouldering way he looked at her—as if no one else mattered, as if he saw her alone. Finally, he spoke.

‘Fate. Timing. Three vital things falling into place at once. One was Ma. One was the job…’

Again Luke paused, and a shiver rippled through her at the seductive, intimate expression in his magnetic green eyes. As the tension and the electric charge between them continued to grow, she forced herself to ask the question now drumming inside her.

‘What job?’

‘As specialist surgical registrar on Maurice Goodwin’s orthopaedic team.’

Francesca smothered a gasp of shock as Luke delivered the unexpected news. Her breath hitched and her heart rate kicked up with a mix of excitement and alarm as the full implications of what he had just said sank in. ‘Here…in Strathlochan?’ she clarified, scarcely aware that her fingers had tightened around his in response, as if seeking reassurance or grounding herself in reality.

‘Here.’ His voice, low and husky, spread warmth right through her. ‘I’m home for good, Chessie.’

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