came down and settled against her lips in the softest, gentlest caress.
She wanted to cry out, to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, to draw him down with her on to the soft grass and let her love take its course, but some vestige of common sense made her stand still, silent and unresponsive, as his lips sipped and brushed and cajoled.
She ached to open to him, to taste him again, to see if he was still as sweet and potent as he had been that long, hot summer. His tongue swept over her lips, probing gently, and she felt her knees threaten to give way. But she couldn’t give in—she mustn’t.
She turned away slightly and the pressure eased, leaving her empty and unfulfilled as he lifted his head, his expression veiled by the dimming light, but she heard him sigh softly as he stepped back.
The silence stretched, broken only by the muted laughter from the building behind them and the fragmented sound of her breathing. ‘Why did you do that?’ she asked in a strangled whisper. ‘Why couldn’t you leave things alone?’
He sighed again, a deep, ragged sigh full of regret. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t come out here with the intention of kissing you. Forgive me, Janna.’ His hand came up to cup her cheek, but she jerked her head back and hit it against the hard stone of the wall.
A little cry escaped from her lips, and then his gentle fingers were in her hair, finding the tiny abrasion and soothing it with whisper-soft caresses that made her want to put her head down on his chest and cry.
He tutted gently, her name a breath on his lips, teasing her hair. ‘Silly girl,’ he soothed, but it didn’t soothe her, just made the need to cry even stronger.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she wailed softly into his shirt. ‘Why can’t you leave me alone? Why did you have to come back?’
‘You knew I was coming back,’ he said. ‘It was hardly a secret.’
She gave a rude snort and pulled away, more cautiously this time. ‘No. And, of course, you always keep your word.’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ he replied, irritation colouring his voice. ‘Damn it, Janna, what am I supposed to have done wrong?’
‘Done?’ she exclaimed, her hands pushing feebly at his massive chest. ‘Apart from vanishing for years and then coming back and expecting me to be all over you like a rash? Get real, Finn!’
He sighed again and released her, ramming a large hand through his hair and ruffling the already unruly locks. ‘What do you want from me, Janna?’
She bit her tongue to stop the plea from coming out. ‘Nothing,’ she said instead. ‘Nothing at all. Why should I?’
Finn sighed again, turning to stare out across the sea, gleaming in the last rays of the late sunset. ‘I thought there was something between us once.’
‘There was—seven years ago. That’s rather a long time to carry a torch, Finn.’
He turned back towards her, his eyes hooded and unrevealing in the dusk. ‘I had no job, no clear idea of where I was going to live. You were just starting your training—anything between us would have been impossible then.’
‘You said you were coming back,’ she mumbled.
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘It took you long enough—and what about all the time in between?’ She straightened up, moving away from him in case she gave in to the urge to throw herself into the comfort of his arms, and made herself meet his eyes again. ‘You can’t really expect to disappear from my life so comprehensively and then waltz back in as if you own me!’
‘I didn’t disappear! Every time I’ve been back while you were here you’ve had to go away, or been busy, or some feeble excuse. I haven’t been avoiding you, Janna, you’ve been avoiding me! It’s hardly my fault if I finally took the hint and left you alone.’
Was that true? Had she driven him away herself? Was it possible she’d really read him all wrong? Perhaps the change in him that Christmas hadn’t been so significant; perhaps he had been just the same old Finn that he always was, even though he’d been her lover.
No. He had been different before her birthday, before he went away. Perhaps he’d just regretted it. Her father had talked him out of his impulsive urge to marry her on the spot—perhaps his arguments had been too convincing?
Janna sighed. ‘Maybe we just took each other for granted, Finn.’
‘So what now, Janna?’ He reached out for her, then dropped his hands and rammed them into his pockets. ‘Look, we can’t talk about this here. Let me take you home when this do is over, so I can talk to you, just for a while. There’s a lot we need to say.’
‘I hardly think that will look very good—you coming home with me your first day back.’
He laughed. ‘With your parents standing guard like chaperones? Not even in this part of the Highlands are they that fanatical about propriety.’
‘What have my parents got to do with it? I don’t live at home any more. I haven’t for the past year.’
He looked astonished. ‘Where do you live, then?’
She waved over her shoulder. ‘There—the Nurse’s House, of course.’
He shook his head as if to clear it. ‘I’m sorry, I just assumed——’
‘Well, you shouldn’t, Finn. You shouldn’t assume anything about me any more—nothing at all. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and see off our guest of honour.’
Drawing in a steadying breath, Janna tipped up her chin, straightened her shoulders and somehow found the strength to walk away.
That Friday night signalled the end of Janna’s hopes that working with Finn would mean a return to the easy, casual relationship of their childhood.
Once she had resented that treatment from him—now, perversely, she longed for it. Finn, however, obviously had something more in mind, and Janna didn’t know how to deal with it. So she took her usual action in the face of Finn’s inconstancy—she avoided him.
On Monday morning Finn took the usual branch surgery, held at the Nurse’s House in Kilbarchan, and although he said nothing Janna could see from his eyes that he wanted to talk to her and wouldn’t rest until he had.
Fine. She wasn’t at all convinced that she was strong enough to deal with him once he really turned on the charm, and dragging up all her old fears and disappointments would upset her. The last thing her pride needed was Finn reducing her to tears of disappointment and confusion. What a weapon!
No way was she handing him that on a plate. She was polite, courteous, but distant—and out of a room whenever he entered it.
It worked—to a point. By eleven-thirty, however, he’d had enough, and came and tracked her down in her room where she had just finished with the last patient.
‘All done?’ she asked brightly.
‘No, I’ve got to put some stitches in a nasty leg wound—one of our visitors slipped
