He reached past her shoulder and opened the door for her. ‘Allow me.’
She breathed in the fragrance of his aftershave, its citrus grace notes making her senses whirl all over again at his closeness. ‘Th-thank you.’
He waved her through gallantly. ‘It was so nice of you to call round to see me,’ he said with another stomach-flipping grin. ‘Feel free to drop around any time.’
She shook her head at him and left, but it took most of the morning before she could wipe the smile off her face, and even longer before the mad fluttery sensation in her stomach died down to a soft little pulse…
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS a punishing ride home. Amelia gave the hot sun a resentful scowl as she pedalled up the hill, certain it had come out in full force just to make her journey all the more tiresome.
It had been a long day. One of the cardiac patients had taken a turn for the worse and she’d had to deal with distressed relatives who wanted a miracle to happen when a lifetime of bad diet and bad habits had led to the damage in the first place.
She hadn’t run into Alex Hunter since she’d gone to his office. She’d heard he was taking the registrars through the procedure in a workshop prior to a case organised for Theatre the following morning.
Somehow she had fielded Lucia’s questions when she’d come back to the ward, giving her a cut-down version of what had happened when she’d first met the visiting specialist.
Amelia felt a little guilty that she hadn’t yet asked Alex about her father’s request to see him. She knew her father would question her as soon as she returned for news of when he would come to visit, but somehow the thought of Alex seeing where she and her family lived embarrassed her. He was clearly very wealthy—how would he react to entering a cottage that hadn’t seen a brush of paint in close to twenty years? The furniture was threadbare and mostly unstable, the floorboards rickety and the curtains at the windows let more light in than they kept out. Spiders had taken up residence in every corner in spite of her best efforts to keep them at bay, and the hens that fought over every last crumb in the yard had made what was left of her mother’s garden a pock-marked wasteland.
She sighed as she forced the stiff pedals around yet another time, sweat breaking out on her upper lip at the effort.
‘Vialli villain!’ a youthful voice called out from the grass verge as a rock flew past her ear.
She flinched and wobbled on her bike, but somehow managed to keep it upright. She turned her head to see who had thrown the rock, but whoever it had been had run off.
It wasn’t the first time she’d encountered missiles along this section of the road that led to the cottage; over the last few months some of the local youth had taken it upon themselves to regenerate the hostility of the past, more from mischief, she imagined, but it didn’t make it any easier to cope with.
She pedalled on, gritting her teeth for the next hill when another rock flew past her head. This time the bike tilted and she lost control, tumbling off to land in the gravel on the side of the road.
It was all she could do not to cry. She got to her feet with an effort and righted her bike, but the fall had punctured the front tyre. She looked around but there was no sign of anyone to help. She was at least ten kilometres from the cottage and it was uphill all the way.
She brushed at her dusty face and plodded on, the parcel containing the dress Alex Hunter had given her strapped to the rack on the back of the bike.
After fifteen minutes or so she heard the sound of a powerful car coming up the hill behind her. She moved to the side of the road, her shoulders hunched as she pushed the bike through the loose gravel, the perspiration stinging as it streamed past her eyes.
‘Hey there, little elf.’ A familiar voice spoke from the open window of the car as it pulled up alongside her. ‘You look like you need a lift.’
Amelia’s bottom lip wobbled dangerously as she turned to look at Alex Hunter. ‘I—I’m fine, thank you,’ she said, somehow summoning up a tattered remnant of pride.
His playful smile disappeared to be replaced by a frown. He killed the engine and got out of the car to take the bike from her. She tussled with him for a moment before finally letting it go, her hands going up to her face to cover the shame of her tears.
‘Oh no,’ he said softly, and, putting the bike to one side, gathered her up against his broad chest, his deep voice rumbling against her breasts where they were crushed up against him. ‘What on earth is the matter?’
‘I—I have a p-puncture…and s-someone threw a rock at me,’ she sobbed.
She felt him tense against her. ‘A rock? What sort of rock?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know… It was probably just a pebble…’ She gave a little sniff. ‘It happens now and again…’
He held her from him to look down at her, his expression serious. ‘What do you mean it happens now and again?’
She brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It happens a lot. They’re just kids making mischief. It’s because of my family’s history…. It’s too hard to explain.’
‘The Vialli bandits?’
She looked up at him in surprise. ‘You’ve heard of them?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been reading up on the history of the island. It’s quite a colourful past.’
A shadow came and went in her eyes. ‘Yes, well, if only people would leave it in the past where it belongs.’
‘So you’re a relative of the original Vialli gang?’ he asked.
‘Yes and no. My father was only on the fringe of the operation. He wasn’t directly responsible for anything that happened,’ she explained.
‘So who was the ringleader?’
‘One of my uncles,’ she said. ‘He was killed during the takeover bid, along with several other relatives. My father has been made the scapegoat for the last thirty-four years. He virtually lives the life of a hermit to keep away from the past.’
‘That’s tough,’ Alex said. ‘What about your mother?’
Amelia bent her head to stare at the front of his shirt where her tears had left a damp mark. ‘She died when I was eighteen. It broke her heart living up here away from all her family who had turned their backs on her.’
‘So what actually happened?’
‘It’s a long story.’
He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I love long stories.’ He led her to the grassy verge away from the dusty gravel. ‘Here, sit down and tell me all about it.’
Amelia sat next to him on the cushion of grass so they could face the view as she related the story, hastily covering her scratched and dirty knees with her uniform. She could feel his broad shoulder close to hers and her nostrils flared again to breathe in the alluring scent of his maleness.
She
