out to savor later on. Like her first trip to Europe. When she was old, she would sit in the sun with her friends and talk about the handsome, charming viscount she’d once known.
He moved his mouth against hers. He tasted of the wine they’d shared and something slightly more tempting. His body was strong and hard against hers. She leaned into him, letting her breasts nestle against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.
When his tongue touched her bottom lip, she parted her lips for him. The kiss deepened, grew more intimate. Need pulsed in time with her heartbeat and she felt herself growing weak with longing. But before she could decide if she wanted to take Alistair upstairs, he drew back.
He pressed his mouth to her cheeks and her nose, then lightly touched his lips to hers.
“Good night, Paige,” he whispered, and then he was gone.
* * *
“You’re not listening.” Simon made the statement conversationally.
Alistair shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “I was thinking.”
“Not about work.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m not sure,” his friend admitted. “I’ve seen you when you’re thinking about where you’re going next and you didn’t have that look.”
They were in Simon’s study. It was late and Montana had gone to bed hours ago. She was due in a few short weeks and her body needed the rest.
“We aren’t nearly as brave as the women in our lives,” Alistair said. “What they do for us. Bearing children. I doubt that I could.”
Simon grinned. “Excluding the biological issues.”
Alistair laughed. “Yes. Of course. It’s a huge commitment of resources. And yet they do it cheerfully, again and again.”
Sara had been thrilled when she’d discovered that she was pregnant. He had been happy as well, but unable to stay in England. He’d had commitments. He’d wanted her to go with him, but she’d needed to be near her family and her doctor. Perhaps when the baby was older, she’d said, but he’d known even then that she had no intention of ever leaving the quiet village where she’d always lived.
He’d gone without her. He’d returned in time for the birth and then had left again. Months later, mother and daughter had been killed. He’d had no idea. No psychic sense of loss. Just a phone call in the middle of the day. He hadn’t even been in surgery.
He’d flown home immediately. His parents and in-laws had handled the details, leaving him to mourn. Shock had settled in. He’d barely known his darling little girl. Had planned on spending more time with her. But he’d never had the chance. The fault was his.
“Do you miss it?” he asked, shaking off the memories. “The travel? The going from place to place?”
“No,” Simon said easily. “I thought I would, but I’m happy here. I’ve found where I belong.” He shrugged. “I have the best of all worlds. My patients come to me. I’m with the woman I love in a town where I feel welcome.” He glanced at his friend. “I’m not like you, Alistair. I’ve never had a place to call home before now. Fool’s Gold gives me that and more.”
He put his brandy on the table by his chair and leaned forward. “The hospital has joined a network that stretches around the globe. They’re raising money together and will bring the neediest of patients here for surgery. I’m doing extraordinary work.” He paused. “I can always use another pair of hands.”
“Stay?”
“You might like it.”
Alistair hadn’t considered settling in one place. Not recently. Before Sara’s death, he’d always assumed one day he’d return to England and live in the village where he’d been born. But that day had never come. To stop traveling now felt like a dismissal of the woman he’d married. A rejection of the only thing she’d asked of him.
He recognized the fallacy of the argument. His desire to continue his work had nothing to do with his affection for his late wife and not finding a place to call home wouldn’t bring her or his daughter back. But telling himself that and believing it weren’t the same thing.
“I’m not ready,” he admitted, recognizing that eventually he would like to be in one place. Put down roots. Not in England, he thought. That would be uncomfortable. His young brothers were more connected to the title and the community there than he had ever been. Let one of them deal with all that went with being an earl.
“When you are, call me,” Simon told him. “I want the first shot at convincing you to move here.” He picked up his brandy. “Where are you off to next?”
“Australia. Sydney, then Melbourne. I’m giving several seminars in each location. From there, I’ll spend three months in Thailand. I haven’t decided where to go after that.”
Paige would enjoy Australia, he thought. While he was lecturing, she could explore the area. He would have days off where they could go places together.
He shook off the idea nearly as soon as it crossed his mind. Paige barely knew him. She had her own to destiny to fulfill. She wouldn’t want to be tied to someone like him when she could be free. Or was that just an excuse? A reason not have to face the bone-crushing guilt he carried with him?
Because the truth was that while he’d loved Sara, he’d never been in love with her.
He’d known how she had felt for years, had known she was waiting patiently for him to return. She had always been there. A part of his life in England. In truth, he’d secretly been pleased when she wouldn’t travel with him. He’d been able to go off and do what he wanted. Oh, there hadn’t been other women. He had no interest in cheating on her and had believed in the importance of honoring his wedding vows. Instead, he’d been able to take the dangerous assignments to the most interesting places. He’d often said he didn’t have a choice, but he did. He’d been gone more than he needed to be.
He could have been home when she died.
He’d taken on the extra work, had stayed longer than necessary. Because he hadn’t been ready to go back to the quiet village. Chatting with neighbors and setting up a home had seemed boring and unimportant. Now that he’d lost both, he knew he’d been wrong.
“You’re gone again,” Simon said quietly.
“I’m thinking about Sara.”
“Feeling guilty?”
Alistair stared at his friend. “How do you know?”
“I know you. You blame yourself for not being there. What you’re forgetting is that you couldn’t have stopped her from crossing that street.”
“I might have.”
“I doubt that. It was her time, Alistair.”
“An acceptance of fate?”
Simon shrugged. “Perhaps.” He raised his arm, the one covered with scars
