Heart Surgeon in Portugal (21 page)

Rafe had learned at his very expensive school. It was regarded as a necessary skill for young men going out into the society world. ‘I like the old-fashioned dances,’ he said provocatively. ‘I like to get a grip on my partner.’

‘I bet you do,’ laughed Ellie with cheeky charm. ‘Round the throat!’

Rafe leaned back in his gilded chair, capturing her gaze with narrowed eyes. ‘More of that,
Miss Robey,
and I shall be obliged to teach you the error of your ways.’

Ellie giggled. ‘With all the waiters watching?’

His smile was dangerous. ‘When we get back.’

‘Oh dear,’ murmured Ellie with her heart in her eyes, thinking back to the arrogant stranger she had clashed with all those weeks ago on the flight to Faro. Who could have believed she would end up falling in love with such a man?

They finished eating and rose once more to dance, Ellie’s five-inch heels bringing her head up to shoulder-height, Rafe crooning gently into her sweet-smelling topknot. She tilted back her head, laughing softly up at him, interrupting the tuneless growl emerging from the region of Rafe's black silk bow-tie.

‘So? You find my singing less than irresistible?’

You're wholly irresistible, Mr Harland! sighed her eyes, but her lips were more circumspect. ‘What a relief to discover something you're
not
brilliant at!’

Rafe's grip intensified to iron and he pulled her tightly against him, thinking to himself this wasn't very wise but by god, he couldn’t help himself. And tonight they would be all alone in the house together. And the way Ellie was looking at him ...

When all of a sudden he released her and strode back to their table looking grimly satisfied about something, Ellie was in total confusion. The band was in the middle of
Blue Moon
and it had been bliss to be held in Rafe's arms, their bodies moving together as one. Yet he had broken away on an abrupt mid-step, expecting her to follow like a meek little lamb, with no explanation for his rudeness.

As she wove her way between tables to get back to where they were sitting, a young man blocked her path. ‘May I have this dance?’ he asked shyly, ‘I-I've been watching you all evening.’

‘Why not?’ Ellie accepted with a slow nod of assent, her eyes darting back to Rafe, her head dipping like a golden flower on the stem of her fragile neck.

‘I see you've made another conquest,’ he said coolly when she came back to the table, a bitter twist to his mouth when he noticed how
another conquest
startled her. ‘Nice for you to be with someone your own age. Did he think you were out with your father?’

‘Rafe, that’s just silly. No way could you be my father! That’s Felix, he's twenty-two—and he’s here with his mummy and daddy. I found him very pleasant.’

‘Is that pleasant as in
boring
?’ challenged Rafe with a smile that showed his uneven pointed white teeth. He speared a piece of cheese and held it temptingly out to her. She shook her head, hoping Felix’s sweaty palms had not marked the back of her dress. Rafe was still smiling at her and his eyes were so full of undisguised affection that it was irresistible and her own eyes clung to his, her face echoing his loving expression. It was as if time had stopped and there were just the two of them in the whole wide world …

Afterwards she couldn’t think why she had asked, but it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She supposed she had allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of false security.

‘That patient in Room Ten – tell me about her?’

Rafe put up a hand and silenced her, his eyes altering on the instant to hard black stones. Ellie’s question hung on the air between them, blocked by his peremptory gesture. It all added up to a mystery. Was this a woman with whom the surgeon had been intimately involved? It seemed to Ellie the only answer.

As if to distract or divert her, Rafe stood up and grabbed hold of her hand, almost dragging her on to the small dance floor, holding her rigid little body until the warmth of him melted her and they moved as one to the slow rhythm, dancing without speaking, as though there was no need for words, no longing for anything more than to be in each other's arms. At least that was how it seemed to Ellie. And it was at this very moment when they were totally absorbed in each other that a piercing voice interrupted them and her ecstasy crumbled ...

‘Rafe
darling!’

'Why Claudia … senhora bonita!’ Rafe let go of Ellie, gallantly bending to give the back of Claudia’s outstretched hand the merest brush of his lips, while Ellie looked on with undisguised dismay. Their twosome was now a foursome. And it couldn’t have happened at a worse moment.

Rafe shook Eduardo’s hand and drew Ellie forward to greet Claudia.

Eduardo stood back, taking in the little scenario with narrowed eyes. ‘We just dropped in for a nightcap,’ he said, ‘never expected to find you here, Rafe. And with your chef, non? Didn’t we meet you at the Casa that night, senhorita …
desculpe
, your name escapes me.’

Ellie didn’t trust his quizzical expression. ‘Ellie Robey,’ said she coolly.

‘How amusing to find you two here.’ Claudia’s damson-tipped fingers were stroking the lapels of Rafe’s cream dinner jacket.

‘Ellie flies home on Tuesday. This is a final thank-you for all her hard work. I fear she hasn't found me the ideal employer.’

What was he saying? Ellie went hot, then cold. When had Rafe decided she must leave so soon? When had he planned to tell her?

‘You won't try
too
hard to make it up to her, will you, darling? Now do join us for one last drink … you too, of course, Milly.’

‘I'm afraid we have to go,’ said Rafe regretfully, ‘it’s been quite a long day.’

Eduardo clapped him on the back. ‘Anyway, good news about the Theatre Wing, is it not. Flora is most relieved.’

‘Your good friends came up trumps. Well done, Eduardo.’

‘Me? What did I do, the credit is all yours, my friend. You will drop the keys to the Casa in my office, before you go to London, yes?’

Ellie was silent all the way back to the Casa de la Paz. Stubbornly she refused to ask exactly when Rafe had decided to send her packing. The grim silhouette of his profile and the aggressive way he swung the big car along narrow roads and braked harshly at every corner told only too clearly of his change of mood. He wanted her out of his life as fast as possible. Out of his thoughts. Out of his home.

When they crunched to a halt on the gravel drive, Ellie was out of the car in a flash, the wind tearing at her clothes and her hair as she struggled to the front door, snatched up the key from under the lily pot and let herself in to the Casa de la Paz.

‘It's the best thing for both of us!’ she told herself fiercely as she flung off her clothes and scrubbed away the last traces of warpaint. ‘It would be very embarrassing for you, wouldn't it, Mr Harland, to have me trailing round St Botolph’s making sheep's eyes at you on account of a holiday flirtation? Better for both of us if I go home now before you have to deal with my broken heart!’

D
uring the night the winds flayed themselves into a frenzy. There would be no fish for the markets in the morning. The fishing boats sheltered safe in harbour.

Rafe was having second thoughts. If the weather was changing, there was little point in encouraging Charlotte to come out to Portugal. Not that she had jumped at his suggestion. In fact he’d heard this great sigh down the phone … been away for months, lots to catch up with back home in Cambridge, give her a bit more time to get sorted out. ‘Fine,’ he had said, ‘no of course I understand.’ But why wasn’t he riven with disappointment? Had he made the suggestion because it would be expected of him? Did he truly care if she came or not? Ah, there was a question …

Ellie vanished to her room as soon as they came in. It seemed neither wanted to spend another moment with each other, as if his company was a threat and hers a temptation.

Rafe couldn’t sleep. He went out on to the balcony to move a lone sunbed which was thumping with monotonous regularity against his bedroom wall. He had enough on his mind without that extra aggravation. He leaned out into the wild night, watching the trees writhing this way and that, their leaves being torn off and littering the grounds of the Casa.

It wouldn’t take a psychologist to work out why Rafe Harland had a history of relationships with Alpha women, cerebral university types with good looks as well as brains. Women who put their careers first and didn’t want the distractions of family life. Of course there were academics who combined university teaching with bringing up children, but he was drawn to the ones whose mindsets matched his. Surgery was the be-all and end-all of his own existence and he understood very well where they were coming from, neither side wanting commitment but enjoying the stimulation of high intellect – and, of course, the sex.

And now he was in love with Ellie Robey. In love as he had never been in love with any woman before … What pleasure it would have given him to tell Claudia and Eduardo! To see the look on their faces if he had announced, ‘Ellie and I are getting married and you, my friends, are the first to know.’ Just as well the two of them had been interrupted on the dance floor because he had been on the verge of taking one of the biggest risks of his private life – the risk of being laughed at, the risk of a young nurse’s appalled reaction.
The risk of rejection.

He had spoken on the spur of the moment when he told them Ellie was leaving—a rare thing in a man not given to impulsive words or deeds; a man trained to consider all options at the speed of light and to act upon his decision knowing the consequences must be momentous. When Ellie left, yes it was likely they would bump into each other on the corridors of St Botolph’s. But she would be with people her own age and focused on Critical Care. There would be no chance to pick up where they had left off. And Rafe would be far too busy to adjust his life to include love.

With narrowed eyes Rafe stared out over the seething landscape. Clouds whipped across the face of the moon and blotted out the pinpricks of starlight. It was, he thought bitterly, the wildest night he had experienced at the Casa.

He went back to bed. Just as well the love of his life was safely asleep downstairs and no longer mere feet away on the other side of the wall …

In the early hours Ellie awoke with a start. Something troubled her—some sound that should not be… something not quite right, very close to her room.

It came again, that sound.

Ellie was instantly wide awake. She sat up in bed, the sheet dragged up to her chin, her scalp prickling with fright. Yes, she could hear it - the stealthy tread of footsteps. Someone was creeping about outside her window. The curtains moved as the door handle was tested. Fingers were pulling at the shutters, trying to force them open.

Ellie slid from her bed and felt around for something – anything - she could cover herself with. She grabbed the first thing that came to hand, panicky fingers fumbling with buttons. Rafe! She must get to Rafe! The outside staircase led directly to his balcony, there wasn’t a moment to waste…

In the hall, more noises froze her to a statue. Strangers were attacking the great front door, hacking away at the lock. It was like a siege from a film!

Fearing the worst, Ellie raced up the stairs and burst into Rafe's bedroom, not knowing what she would find. In his bed, a dark shape, seemingly deep in peaceful sleep. ‘Rafe – wake up!’ she hissed, shaking him awake, trying to mute her fears to a whisper.

Emergencies in the night were nothing new to the surgeon, but the vision of Ellie bending over him was a dream come true. ‘B-b burglars!’ she hissed between chattering teeth. ‘They’re breaking down the front door!’

‘What the hell?’

Rafe flung back the sheet and Ellie quickly averted her eyes. He grabbed a pair of boxer shorts. ‘Stay here,’ he commanded, his dark silhouette reassuringly massive in the grainy half-light.

Ellie had no intention of letting him out of her sight. ‘Sssh!’ she warned, ‘they’ll hear us.’

‘They’ll do more than hear me!’ snarled the surgeon, throwing on the lights as he stormed across the landing, filling the house with the stamp of his heavy footsteps and the boom of his commanding voice. He thundered down to the front door, unbolted and threw it wide. He strode out into the garden and circled the entire building with Ellie cowering in his wake. Up at the farm, the dogs were barking their heads off, disturbed by strange events in the night.

‘I didn't imagine things, I swear it,’ shivered Ellie.

‘Just as well I bolted the shutters - take a look at this!’

The beam of torchlight revealed the imprints of trainer soles in the churned-up sandy soil. ‘Several of them,’ said Rafe, swinging his torch this way and that. ‘Must have left their car up on the main road for a quick getaway.’
Ellie, all alone downstairs with these villains only feet away
… He ached to give her a big hug as she stood there shivering. Instead, ‘Cheer up,’ he said briskly, ‘they’ll be miles away by now.’

‘What about the front door,’ worried Ellie, padding on bare feet round to the front of the house and up the steps. One of the lily pots lay on its side in a mess of spilled earth, the flower stalk broken. Giovana would be upset to see it.

Rafe examined the gouges in the great oak door. ‘Done with a chisel,’ he grunted. ‘On wood this thick, they weren’t going to get far.’

Ellie ran her fingers over the damage, her face sheet-white in the lamplight.

‘Don’t worry, Ellie - probably just youngsters from one of the inland cities, looking for cash or cameras, that sort of thing. Must have thought the noise of the wind was good enough cover. They won’t come back now.’

'C–c-can I sleep on your floor, Rafe? Please Rafe.’ She sounded like a wimp, she knew it, but she was past caring.

‘On the floor?’ he exclaimed. ‘What’s wrong with the room next to mine. You’ll be perfectly okay in there.’

‘But it’s all ready for your television friend. Giovana and I made up the bed. We’ve put out towels and everything.’