he asked suddenly, and she bit her lip on a wintry little smile.
‘Oh, yes. You think I’d have stayed married…’
‘Jill, if you ever want to marry anyone else…’ Charles spun his chair again. He was as agile with his chair as many men were on their feet. Shot by accident by his brother when he’d been little more than a kid, Charles had never allowed his body to lose its athletic tone. The damage was between L2 and S1, two of the lowest spinal vertebrae, meaning he had solid upper muscular control. He also had some leg function. He could balance on elbow crutches and move forward, albeit with difficulty. He had little foot control, meaning his feet dragged, and his knees refused to respond, but every day saw him work through an exercise regime that was almost intimidating.
Jill was intimidated. Charles had a powerful intellect and a commanding presence. Tall, lithe and prematurely grey, with cool grey eyes that twinkled and a personality that was magnetic, he ran the best medical base in Queensland. He might be in a wheelchair, he might be in his forties, but he was one incredibly sexy man.
And he’d asked her to marry him.
No. He’d said they’d marry. There was a difference.
‘You don’t want to marry me,’ she whispered, and he smiled.
‘Why would I not? You’re a very attractive woman.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘No, but you are.’
She stared down at her feet. She and Lily had painted their toenails that morning. Crimson-tipped toes peeped out from beneath faded jeans.
She was wearing ancient jeans and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out. She’d pulled her thick chestnut hair back into an elastic band. She left her freckles to fend for themselves. Make-up was for kids.
She was thirty-seven years old. The young medics who worked in Crocodile Creek hospital looked fabulous, young, glowing, eager. In comparison Jill felt old. Worn out with life.
‘You know you can trust me in a marriage,’ Charles said gently. ‘It’s in name only. If you hate the idea…’
She turned to face him. Charles. Wise, intelligent, astringent. Funny, sad, intensely private.
How could she think of marrying him?
‘O-of course it w-would be in name only,’ she stammered. ‘I… You know I wouldn’t…’
‘I know you wouldn’t,’ he said, sounding suddenly tired.
‘Tom won’t let Lily stay with us if we don’t marry,’ she said, turning away from him. Fighting for composure. ‘And…and you do want Lily?’
‘You want Lily, too,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’
She stared out across the garden at Lily, swinging higher and higher. Did she want a daughter?
More than anything else in the world, she thought. Until Lily’s parents had died her life had been…a void.
Her life had been a void since she’d walked out on her marriage. Or maybe it had been a void since she’d married.
‘What the hell did he do to you to make you so fearful?’ Charles demanded suddenly, and Jill shook her head.
‘I’m not fearful.’
‘Not in your work, you’re not. Put bluntly, you’re the best nurse it’s ever been my privilege to work with. But in your private life…’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’ve kept yourself to yourself ever since you’ve been here.’
‘And you’ve kept yourself to yourself for even longer.’
‘Maybe I have more reason,’ he muttered. ‘Hell, Jill, do you think we can make a marriage work?’
‘I… How different would it be from what it is now?’
‘I guess not much,’ he conceded. ‘I’d need to buy you a ring.’
‘You don’t.’
‘No, that much I do,’ he said. ‘Let’s make this official straight away.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘But things are tight. We’ve got Muriel Mooronwa’s hernia operation in half an hour, and I’ve promised to assist Cal. If things are straightforward we might catch the shops before closing.’ He grimaced. ‘And the paperwork…that’ll take time and I need to go to the island tomorrow.’ He frowned, thinking it through. ‘You know I’ve told Lily I’ll take her with me. Why not rearrange the roster and come with us? We could sort out the details over there.’
‘I can’t,’ she said flatly. ‘Someone senior has to stay here.’
‘I can ask Gina and Cal to stay. Cal’s so much second in command here now he’s practically in charge.’
‘He’s not a nurse. Doctors think they know everything but when it comes to practicalities they’re useless.’
‘You don’t want—’
‘No,’ she said flatly, and would have stepped away but Charles’s hand came out and caught her wrist. Urgent.
‘Jill, this doesn’t have to happen. I’m not marrying you against your will.’
‘Of course not,’ she said dully, and a flash of anger crossed Charles’s face.
‘You’ll have to do better than that,’ he snapped. ‘I want no submissive wife.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means I employ you as a director of nursing and I get a competent, bossy, sometimes funny, sometimes emotionally involved woman who keeps my nursing staff happy. It’s that woman I’m asking to marry me—not the echo of what you once had with Kelvin.’
‘I’m over Kelvin.’
‘You’re not,’ he said gently. ‘I know you’re not. I’d like to murder the bottom-feeding low-life. More than anything else, Jill, I’d like to wipe the slate clean so you can start afresh. Find some great guy who can give you a normal life—kids, dancing, loving, the whole box and dice. But I can’t. OK, I can’t have them either. We’re stuck with what life’s thrown at us. But between us we want to give Lily a great home. She makes us both smile, we make her smile, and that counts for everything. It’s a start, Jill. A need to make a kid smile. Is it a basis for a marriage?’
She took a deep breath. She turned and leaned back on the veranda rail so she was looking down at him.
‘I sound appallingly ungrateful,’ she whispered.
‘You don’t. You sound as confused as I am.’
‘You’re burying your dreams.’
‘I don’t do dreams,’ he said roughly. ‘We’ve both been there, Jill. We both
