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CHAPTER ONE
CHARLES ROSS-WYLDE WAS a selfish, cold-hearted liar and Harriet Bell was better off without him. At least, that was what she’d spent the last twelve years telling herself.
The reality of seeing him again was very different from the scenario she’d imagined. She’d been shocked to see him here, but so far she’d resisted slapping him, throwing a drink in his face, or announcing to the rest of the conference attendees that he was the reason she couldn’t risk loving anyone again. Perhaps she’d matured or, more likely, hadn’t expected to feel anything other than pure hatred towards him.
She watched him now from the other side of the room as the assembled medical community enjoyed the tea break between lectures. It gave her time to study him unnoticed and decide what she wanted to do—if anything. If she chose to she could walk out of here and he’d be none the wiser, with nothing changing their current status quo.
Impossible when there was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted him to explain.
Physically, he hadn’t changed much from the man who’d once promised her their lives would be spent together except he looked older...more manly.
He was still trying to sweep that floppy dark hair back into a neat style befitting a professional man, though she remembered all too well how it had looked first thing in the morning tousled by sleep. And, as always, he was dressed impeccably, the navy suit tailored to his exact measurements. The beard was new, the dark shadow along his jawline making him look even more masculine, if that was possible. It suited him—as did the glasses he was sporting.
Damn it, he was still gorgeous, and apparently still able to make her heart flutter maniacally as though she’d just run a marathon.
‘They really should have an open bar,’ she muttered to the bewildered woman serving refreshments to the masses, turning away from the view of her ex-fiancé and wishing for a tot of whisky in her coffee.
Not that she drank often, but she’d make an exception to help her escape memories of her and Charles—good and bad. She’d have to make do with an extra spoonful of sugar in her tea to help with the shock.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’ That soft, Scottish burr capable of rendering her into a gibbering wreck tickled the back of her neck. He’d found her.
Harriet fumbled with her cup and saucer, spilling the contents over herself right before she turned around to face him. ‘Charles. What a surprise.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He grabbed a napkin from the buffet table and started dabbing at the stain darkening the front of her dress.
‘I can do that, thanks.’ She didn’t mean to snap but she couldn’t bear to have him touch her after all this time when she didn’t know what emotions it would unleash.
‘Sorry.’ He handed over possession of the napkin so she could tend to the ruined dress herself. ‘It was just nice to see a familiar face. How have you been, Harriet?’
There was no sign of remorse for the relationship and future he’d thrown away. He was talking to her as though they were old school friends, who had no real emotional connection and had simply happened to run into each other.
She set the wet napkin and coffee back on the table and took a moment to consider her response. If she kicked off and made a scene it would be clear she’d never got over him and that would most likely send Charles running. She didn’t know what she wanted from him, but it wasn’t that.
‘Oh, you know, keeping busy. You?’ She plastered on a smile, willing to play along with this game until one of them broke. Her, probably.
‘The same. I took up a placement in Glasgow to complete my medical training and set up a clinic at Heatherglen. It was initially to help army veterans, but we’ve extended to provide state-of-the-art medical facilities for physical and emotional rehabilitation to a wider range of patients.’
‘Sounds impressive.’ Inheriting his father’s fortune and the family estate had signalled the end of their engagement so it was difficult for Harriet to be as enthusiastic about his accomplishments as she should have been.
‘I wanted to do something worthwhile to honour my brother and father, but it takes a lot of upkeep. I don’t get to make as many trips to London as I’d like.’ His older brother, Nick, had served with the military in Afghanistan. Unfortunately, he’d been killed by a roadside bomb before Harriet had had the chance to meet him. That family tragedy, followed by the death of his father about a year later, had proved too much for Charles and their wedding plans.
‘I’m the same, too many responsibilities here to even take a holiday these days.’ Needless to say, she hadn’t been back to Scotland since his father’s funeral, when Charles had gone back on his promise of making a life with her. At the time she’d believed grief had driven his decision, but when he’d failed to follow her back to London she’d soon realised he was serious about no longer wanting to marry her. It was difficult to reconcile that man who’d broken her heart with the one stood before her now, making small talk.
‘So, you did stay here after all? I’d hoped you would.’ He was smiling so Harriet didn’t think he was trying to rub salt into the wound he’d inflicted on her that day. She’d never received a proper explanation as to why he’d called things off. Goodness knew, she’d been desperate for one, but
