she could reasonably get and still be in the British Isles—she wasn’t about to go anywhere else in a hurry.
CHAPTER TWO
‘PUT your arms round me,’ shouted Atholl through the wind, ‘and lean with the bike!’
He was one powerfully built man—muscles like steel bars, thought Terry as she clung to him nervously, wrapping her arms round him like a vice. She gave a surprised giggle. What girl wouldn’t choose to be in her situation? Hugging a man who looked as if he did a daily workout in the gym as close to her body as she could!
Then she closed her eyes in fright as he roared along the winding road out of the little bay and up the hill beyond the colourful cottages on the seafront, the bike leaning frighteningly at an angle when they turned corners. There was probably no need to worry about the job, she decided resignedly. She’d be killed on this bike before she got to the surgery.
They pulled up sharply in the drive of a graciouslooking stone-built house covered with scaffolding. Terry dismounted carefully, wondering if Atholl had deliberately driven the blessed machine at the speed of light to test her nerve or if it just seemed that way.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Of course. I found it exhilarating,’ Terry retorted as she removed her helmet. She was damned if she’d let him believe she was a wimp!
She turned to look around at the view—or as much as she could see in the driving rain. It was spectacular, dramatic and gloomy with black clouds looming over the Sound of Scuola. The mainland over the water was just a dark line on the horizon at the moment.
‘When the sky’s clear and there’s sunshine it’s a completely different picture—the sea is as blue as a periwinkle. And believe me,’ he added with a grin, ‘it does stop raining sometimes! Now, come in and get dry and perhaps we can discuss arrangements over coffee and some biscuits.’
It was warm inside—the large hall did duty as a waiting room, and another room with half the wall cut out formed the reception area, with a severe-looking grey-haired woman behind the desk. She looked up as they came in.
‘You’ve taken your time, Atholl,’ she remarked sternly. ‘You’ve several calls to do before we finish tonight.’ She peered at his face. ‘And what have you done to your chin—fallen off your bike? I told you that machine was lethal…and your uncle hates you riding it.’
‘Nothing to do with the bike—just a fall, Isobel,’ he said lightly.
‘And what about this Dr Younger—where is he? You said you were going to meet him.’
He put his hand behind Terry’s shoulder and drew her forward, saying drily, ‘This is Dr Younger—she just travelled up from London today. Terry, this is Isobel Nash, one of our receptionists.’
Isobel stared back at Terry with surprise, taking in her bedraggled appearance wearing a leather jacket several sizes too big for her, and said bluntly, ‘But she’s a woman. We thought from the name that they were sending a man.’
Terry sighed and looked from Atholl to Isobel. There seemed to be a general prejudice against females here!
Atholl saw her expression and explained, ‘Apart from having to deal with the teenage lads I told you about, I thought a man might fit more easily into this job for, er, various reasons.’
His glance flicked across to Isobel, who looked grimmer than ever and pursed her lips, saying, ‘It’s not only that—where’s the poor lass to sleep?’
Terry put down her dripping rucksack. ‘Look, I’m sorry I’m not who you both thought I was, but do you mind if I get dry while you discuss this?’
‘Ah, yes, of course…’ Atholl’s expression was faintly embarrassed, as if he realised how rude he’d been. ‘Isobel, can you rustle up some tea and biscuits for us? We’ll go into my room, Terry, and you can dry out a bit. I’ll take the leather jacket.’
Terry followed him feeling slightly deflated, her excitement in coming to the island rather dashed by the mixed welcome she’d received. It had been a long day’s journey from London and coupled with the drama at the quayside she felt emotionally drained and now worried that she’d come all this way for nothing. How easy would it be to work with someone who had been expecting to engage a man? She gave an inward shrug. She’d just have to show him that she was as good if not better than anyone else would have been.
She took off the damp cardigan she’d been wearing under the borrowed coat, and handed it to Atholl, who draped it over a radiator. She rubbed her hair with the towel he offered and while she was drying herself he walked over to a filing cabinet, took out a file and started to read it. Terry looked at him covertly through the folds of the towel. He really had the rugged good looks and powerful physique of a man used to the outdoors—and she had reason to be grateful that he was pretty strong, she reflected, strong enough to lift her bodily off the ground with seconds to spare when a car was heading towards them.
She suspected that his brisk manner indicated he was the type of person who liked things done his way and was fairly outspoken when put out about something—like getting a woman as a locum when he expected a man! It was such an old-fashioned attitude, she thought irritably. He was probably married to a little mousy woman who wouldn’t say boo to a goose.
Atholl glanced up when he’d perused the file and flicked an assessing eye over her as she finished rubbing her hair dry, running her fingers through her short curls so that they formed a crisp halo round her face. He wasn’t at all sure that she was the right sort of person to take on this particular job. He would always be worried about her ability to cope with some of the tearaways that he and Pete had taken on—but even more to the point, and most importantly, his experience with the last locum had convinced him that there were too many pitfalls where women colleagues in a small practice were concerned. Especially, he thought with sudden awareness, when the woman was as attractive as Terry Younger! Not, of course, from his point of view—he was damn well finished with women and relationships for a long, long time—more from the aspect of his patients and friends who were all longing to fix him up with the next single woman who came into his orbit.
He sighed and sat down in the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. If they were going to work together, he ought to find out more about her.
‘So you’ve come up from London today—that’s quite a long journey.’
‘That’s right. I started at the crack of dawn. The agency sent all my particulars a few days ago, except obviously to state that I was a woman,’ Terry said drily.
He gave a rather abashed smile. ‘I’ve got the file here. I can’t have read it properly,’ he admitted. ‘It does indeed say you’re female—I’m afraid I just looked at your name, Terry Younger, and assumed they’d sent me a man.’
‘Well, they haven’t pulled the wool over your eyes, have they? Anyway, here I am!’
He blinked at her forthright attitude, and his mouth twitched with amusement. ‘You are indeed! Sit down for a moment.’ He put the file down on the desk and looked at her curiously. ‘You’ve got some excellent references and it seemed you had a good job in London. What made you want to leave?’
Terry had been expecting that question and even though she’d rehearsed her reply many times, she
