still a little dazed, put up no further argument and stepped out, to her horror immediately sinking up to her ankles in the boggy peat that lined the road. She looked down at her feet in dismay. The new shoes she had bought in a fit of extravagance to celebrate her new job had all but disappeared beneath the sludge. She tried to pull them out, first one then the other, almost overbalancing in the process, but her feet refused to budge. She was trapped.
She thought that matters couldn’t get any worse until she became aware that a crowd of onlookers had gathered as the occupants of the other cars left their vehicles to watch the proceedings. She lifted her eyes and found those of her rescuer, which, although moments before had looked at her sternly, were now twinkling with merriment, and although he tried to disguise it, a smile tugged at the corners of his generous mouth.
‘Oh, go on, Cameron, help her out!’ someone called out.
‘Lend her your wellies, Cameron!’ suggested another.
Meagan stood helplessly as Cameron, a broad grin lighting his face, stepped round to her side of the car, reached over and plucked her bodily from her muddy trap. As her feet came loose, she was imprisoned for a moment against his chest. He was so tall that despite her height of five feet eight she was still forced to look up into his eyes, even with her feet dangling above the ground. Held captive, Meagan could feel the heat of his body and the hardness of his muscles through the thin fabric of his sweater. It had been a long time since a man had held her in his arms. It had been even longer since this man had held her, but suddenly it felt like yesterday. To her dismay she felt a shock of desire that made her toes curl. Confused and mortified, she pushed against his chest with her hands.
Suddenly he bent his head and whispered in her ear, ‘Is it really you? I never thought I’d see you again.’
Meagan felt time stand still. She looked into his eyes and he grinned back at her. He raised an eyebrow as if challenging her to admit she remembered him too. She knew without a shadow of doubt he was thinking about that night.
‘Would you please put me down?’ This was hardly the time or the place to reminisce about a night they had once shared. He was obviously enjoying making her look ridiculous. He held onto her for a second longer, looking into her eyes, amusement evident at her discomfort, before depositing her gently onto the road. As the audience clapped in appreciation of his gallantry, Meagan felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. This was not how she had intended to introduce herself to the local population! These people were to be her patients and she cringed at the thought that she’d be the object of discussion and amusement around a lot of kitchen tables that evening. Cheeks blazing, she lifted her head high and tried to look like the professional career-woman she was. Cameron leapt into her Land Rover and with one great spray of mud—a good bit of which landed on Meagan—had all four wheels firmly back on the road. Thankfully, most of the crowd started to make their way back to their cars, satisfied that the drama was over.
Cameron left the engine running and walked back towards Meagan. Seeing her furiously trying to wipe some of the dirt off her suit, he laughed out loud.
‘Good God—did I do that? I’m really sorry. Here, can I help?’ He offered, taking a hankie from his jeans pocket. Gently tilting her chin with his fingertips, he wiped some of the mud from her face.
Meagan found herself yet again staring into his eyes, feeling even more foolish and totally off kilter. She could feel his breath on her face and the masculine scent of his strong, lean body as he stood close to her. Once again she felt a sharp tug of sheer unadulterated lust. Damn the man. Incredibly, after all these years he still had the ability to make her feel weak at the knees. Clearly the fright had awakened some dormant hormones she had been suppressing, she thought wryly. That was all. It was a well-known fact that adrenaline had that effect on people.
Desperate to regain her composure, she stepped back from Cameron, and managed a weak smile.
‘Thanks for your help, I really appreciate it. I’ve really got to go now—I’m horribly late for my appointment as it is.’ She was aware that she sounded as if she were at some afternoon tea party, but it was the best she could manage.
‘No problem,’ Cameron replied, his voice cooler this time, ‘but, seriously, you have to take it easy on these narrow roads. I know that’s a beast of a car you have, but brute strength in a vehicle is no substitute for a safe driver. Next time you—or some other unfortunate soul—might not be so lucky.’
Feeling like a five-year-old who had been caught stealing biscuits, and not a little indignant, Meagan climbed back into the driver’s seat. She knew she had been at fault, but she was in no mood for a lecture from any man, no matter how helpful he had been, or how good-looking. And he was as gorgeous as she remembered, she couldn’t help admitting to herself.
Liquid brown eyes and thick, black hair fell across his forehead, giving him an appealing air of vulnerability and sensuality that his solid frame belied. His broad shoulders were outlined in a V-neck black sweater that was thin enough for her to make out the contours of his muscular chest and a pair of faded blue jeans clung to his thighs in a most disconcerting manner. He had a stubble on his chin, as if he hadn’t shaved for a few days. His thigh-high waders were turned down to below his knees and Meagan thought he looked like a fisherman—some sort of swashbuckling pirate in another life. But that wasn’t what he had told her the night they had met.
Images came flooding back—the feel of his hands on her skin, the warmth of his body. She closed her eyes against the memory. It didn’t matter how attractive he was, she was never going to get close to a man again—not after Charlie. Aware of the familiar ache that thinking of Charlie brought, she pushed him to the back of her mind. She was finished with men. In particular men who thought they were God’s gift to women. And Cameron clearly belonged to that camp. That night had obviously meant nothing to him—he had never tried to get in touch with her afterward. Had there been many women? Had she just been one forgettable encounter of many? Meagan felt her cheeks burn at the thought. With an attempt at a nonchalant wave to her rescuer, she drove off more sedately. Confused and shaken, she refused to think about the night she had met Cameron and instead turned her thoughts to the meeting ahead.
Dr Colin MacDonald, or Dr Colin as she affectionately called him, and her father had been medical students together many years before and friends ever since. Dr Colin and his wife were going on an extended trip to Australia for four weeks, and when her father had told her that he was looking for a locum to help his partner while he was away, she had jumped at the chance. She had always wanted to return to Uist and hoped that some time on the peaceful and beautiful island on Scotland’s west coast would help heal whatever it was that Charlie’s death—and betrayal—seemed to have broken.
Dr Colin had suggested that they meet at the surgery for an informal interview at six that evening. ‘It will just be Dr Stuart and myself, so it won’t be formal. Perhaps we can grab a bite to eat afterwards,’ he had suggested in his lilting Hebridean accent. ‘As you know, I’ll be leaving for Australia the next day, so unfortunately this will be the only chance the three of us will get to chat.’
Meagan pulled into the surgery car park. She glanced at her watch. With all that had happened she was most definitely late. She took a few minutes to collect herself while studying the surgery and its surroundings. It had changed from the old croft house that she remembered from her childhood visits. Instead, brand-new premises had been built more in keeping with modern-day practice. Nevertheless Meagan felt a pang of regret for the old practice with its homely feeling.
As she got out of the car, she glanced down at her feet. Around her ankles were matching rings of mud, like ankle-length boots. Her blouse and skirt were also spattered with brown. She’d have to sneak in, find the ladies and repair the damage before her interview. Late or not, there
