Read Online Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor? by Fiona McArthur - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Fiona McArthur
Tags: Medical
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like you to have this, a keepsake of today.’ Harry stopped beside her and held out his palm. ‘As an apology for being so stressed.’
There in the middle of his strong brown hand lay a tiny silver baby, curled up and content, beautifully crafted and cleverly suspended on a finely intricate chain.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ she breathed, and looked from Harry to the grinning shopkeeper. She could only marvel at the exquisite workmanship.
‘In honour of your birth today.’ He smiled and her legs wobbled in response. Good grief. She looked down at the shiny miniature again. Such dimpled cheeks and rounded limbs and something to remember Harry by. As if she’d forget him.
‘Thank you, Harry.’ She looked across at the silversmith and smiled. ‘You’re very clever.’
Harry stepped closer and, typically, all the hairs on her arms recognised him and stood up. She might even miss that sensation when she went. ‘Here. Let me put it on for you.’
She turned and lifted her hair so he could fasten the clasp, and his fingers on her neck lifted any other follicle that wasn’t upright already. She stepped back, ostensibly to thank the silversmith but really to loosen the tightness in her chest and mentally fan her face.
The shopkeeper brought the mirror and she could see herself with Harry behind her, like a picture. A picture that would soon become a memory.
She turned and impulsively reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you. She’s beautiful. I love her.’ He patted her shoulder and turned away to hide the expression in his eyes, and she sighed.
Well, that had been a mistake. Harry briefly closed his eyes. He’d thought by buying her a trinket he could lose the guilt he still carried by not telling her the truth. But it hadn’t worked.
Actually, he felt worse, almost as though he was trying to buy her forgiveness, which was ridiculous when, in fact, he owed nothing to this woman he barely knew. So why did he feel he was deepening the deceit?
Because when it was all said and done she’d go on her way in good faith, blithely unaware he should have stood beside her at the birth and been there to support her in the responsibility. And he hadn’t.
He’d lied by omission, run away from the risk of something going wrong, and pretended she had been the only person with the knowledge.
He helped her back into the car and ensured she had her seat belt on and wondered, as he climbed in himself, what the heck was he doing with her beside him at this moment?
Why hadn’t he waved goodbye after the bike ride andchalked the new insights she’d given him up for later thought or consigned them to the too-hard basket like he usually did? He had no idea but he had the sneaking suspicion he was going to regret this decision.
He eased his vehicle back into the mayhem of the traffic and decided his mind was as bad as the street. Chaotic.
Bonnie took one look at Harry’s set face and chose to stare out the window. She suppressed another sigh. The man was like a roller-coaster—exhilarating on the downward loops but full of unexpected corners that threatened to derail her when she least expected it.
She’d just concentrate on the scenery and the bustling life all around her.
When they arrived in Ubud the main street was packed with shops. Windows were filled with handprinted clothes, paintings, imitation designer luggage. There seemed to be dozens of restaurants, lots to distract her confusion from Harry’s behaviour.
As they passed the stone-walled palace she began to see that the centre of town was built on a mountain, complete with rainforest and plunging gullies, and lush foliage everywhere. A town nestled in a jungle.
Ubud had a different feel to the beachside suburbs and Bonnie was glad she’d had the chance to experience the variation. It had nothing to do with more time with the enigmatic Harry.
Serene women in yellow sashes carried towering arrangements of offerings on their heads up stone steps, and
There in the middle of his strong brown hand lay a tiny silver baby, curled up and content, beautifully crafted and cleverly suspended on a finely intricate chain.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ she breathed, and looked from Harry to the grinning shopkeeper. She could only marvel at the exquisite workmanship.
‘In honour of your birth today.’ He smiled and her legs wobbled in response. Good grief. She looked down at the shiny miniature again. Such dimpled cheeks and rounded limbs and something to remember Harry by. As if she’d forget him.
‘Thank you, Harry.’ She looked across at the silversmith and smiled. ‘You’re very clever.’
Harry stepped closer and, typically, all the hairs on her arms recognised him and stood up. She might even miss that sensation when she went. ‘Here. Let me put it on for you.’
She turned and lifted her hair so he could fasten the clasp, and his fingers on her neck lifted any other follicle that wasn’t upright already. She stepped back, ostensibly to thank the silversmith but really to loosen the tightness in her chest and mentally fan her face.
The shopkeeper brought the mirror and she could see herself with Harry behind her, like a picture. A picture that would soon become a memory.
She turned and impulsively reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you. She’s beautiful. I love her.’ He patted her shoulder and turned away to hide the expression in his eyes, and she sighed.
Well, that had been a mistake. Harry briefly closed his eyes. He’d thought by buying her a trinket he could lose the guilt he still carried by not telling her the truth. But it hadn’t worked.
Actually, he felt worse, almost as though he was trying to buy her forgiveness, which was ridiculous when, in fact, he owed nothing to this woman he barely knew. So why did he feel he was deepening the deceit?
Because when it was all said and done she’d go on her way in good faith, blithely unaware he should have stood beside her at the birth and been there to support her in the responsibility. And he hadn’t.
He’d lied by omission, run away from the risk of something going wrong, and pretended she had been the only person with the knowledge.
He helped her back into the car and ensured she had her seat belt on and wondered, as he climbed in himself, what the heck was he doing with her beside him at this moment?
Why hadn’t he waved goodbye after the bike ride andchalked the new insights she’d given him up for later thought or consigned them to the too-hard basket like he usually did? He had no idea but he had the sneaking suspicion he was going to regret this decision.
He eased his vehicle back into the mayhem of the traffic and decided his mind was as bad as the street. Chaotic.
Bonnie took one look at Harry’s set face and chose to stare out the window. She suppressed another sigh. The man was like a roller-coaster—exhilarating on the downward loops but full of unexpected corners that threatened to derail her when she least expected it.
She’d just concentrate on the scenery and the bustling life all around her.
When they arrived in Ubud the main street was packed with shops. Windows were filled with handprinted clothes, paintings, imitation designer luggage. There seemed to be dozens of restaurants, lots to distract her confusion from Harry’s behaviour.
As they passed the stone-walled palace she began to see that the centre of town was built on a mountain, complete with rainforest and plunging gullies, and lush foliage everywhere. A town nestled in a jungle.
Ubud had a different feel to the beachside suburbs and Bonnie was glad she’d had the chance to experience the variation. It had nothing to do with more time with the enigmatic Harry.
Serene women in yellow sashes carried towering arrangements of offerings on their heads up stone steps, and
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