English Doctor, Italian Bride

English Doctor, Italian Bride
CAROL MARINELLI

Honourable English doctor, fiery Italian nurse Six years ago English consultant Hugh Armstrong was welcomed into the Azetti family when he was far from home – and unwittingly stole the heart of their youngest daughter, Bonny. Hugh, realising that taking her was no way to repay the family’s kindness, retreated quickly back to England.Now Hugh is not only the heart-throb of the emergency department, he is also nurse Bonny’s boss! She seems more out of bounds than ever, but his desire to help Bonny through her father’s illness only makes their bond and their passion stronger.Can Hugh finally make her his once and for all?

Bonny jerked her head up—looked at him again—and thepain that was inside her todaywas there on his face; the agonyshe felt was mirrored in his eyes.

And it wasn’t wanton, or bold, or even particularly brave—because, looking at him, Bonita knew her kiss wasn’t about to be rejected.

Kisses—strange, delicious things, her mind thought as their lips mingled.

Just this delicious sharing, this sweet acknowledgement that was better expressed without words. A kiss that wasn’t about escaping, more about sustenance. A little pause in a vile day—a kiss that wouldn’t go further because for now it was absolutely enough.

‘You and I,’ Hugh said, as their kiss inevitably ended, ‘are going to have to do some serious talking.’

‘I know.’

Carol Marinelli recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title, and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation, and after chewing her pen for a moment Carol put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked—‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But—given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open—I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

Recent titles by the same author:

Medical™ Romance ONE MAGICAL CHRISTMAS A DOCTOR, A NURSE: A LITTLE MIRACLE BILLIONAIRE PRINCE, ORDINARY NURSE*

Modern™ Romance HIRED: THE ITALIAN’S CONVENIENT MISTRESS ITALIAN BOSS, RUTHLESS REVENGE EXPECTING HIS LOVE-CHILD*

*The House of Kolovsky

ENGLISH DOCTOR, ITALIAN BRIDE

By

CAROL MARINELLI

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

‘SORRY if this is awkward for you!’ Hugh Armstrong flashed a tight smile at his reluctant patient.

‘It’s not awkward for me.’ Bonita managed through pale lips, shaking her head as Deb, the charge nurse, offered her more gas to inhale. Bonita held her arm slightly away from her body, terrified to move it and even more terrified at the thought of anyone touching it. The journey to the hospital had been short but hellish, the makeshift sling her friend had applied had done little to help and certainly hadn’t provided a buffer to the pain—she’d felt every jolt. Every movement, anticipated or real, had also been agony as Deb had helped get her out of the car and onto the trolley. ‘I’m just in a lot of pain.’

‘Good!’ Hugh said, as Bonita shivered on the trolley. ‘Not good that you’re in pain, of course!’ He gave her a patronising smile. ‘I mean, it’s good that it’s not awkward for you. Accidents happen after all or we wouldn’t have a job!’

He thought he was funny!

Bonita wished she could make light of the fact that she was sitting bolt upright on a trolley in the accident and emergency department she worked in, dressed in her netball gear, her long brown curls all damp and frizzy, her shoulder hanging out of its socket and her arch-enemy Hugh Bloody Armstrong the only senior doctor available!

Just her luck. But, then again, the whole day had been a series of errors. She wasn’t even supposed to have been playing netball today, had actually given it up last year after she’d knocked herself out and then a fortnight later had hurt her knee. But an early morning phone call telling her that the team was short and begging her to fill in had caught her off guard. She should have said no—centre forward wasn’t even her position!

And as for Hugh Armstrong treating her—well, he wasn’t even supposed to be on duty, Bonita thought, holding onto her arm so carefully that her neck was starting to hurt with the tension of trying to stay still. Andrew Browne was the consultant on duty today, only he was stuck in Resus and Hugh had just happened to call in to drop off the emergency pager, midway between the wedding and reception he was attending today. Dressed in a grey morning suit, knowing damn well that he looked fantastic, reeking of cologne, with Amber, his stunning girlfriend, trotting faithfully behind, he’d seen Bonita being wheeled through the department. Of course, given she was a staff member, and there was no one else available, it was only right that he deal with her, only right that she wasn’t left waiting.

She was staff.

And, because today she was also a patient, for once he’d be nice to her and, in turn, she’d suffer his patronising attempts at humour, if it meant that her shoulder would get sorted quickly.

It was entirely irrelevant that they loathed each other.

‘Take a couple of breaths of this, and then hopefully you can give me your arm.’

She was making a scene; Bonita knew that, but bravery was something she was having great difficulty summoning.

Sobbing, crying and red in the face, she’d turned more than a few heads since her arrival.

Hugh had almost got an IV in when she’d first arrived, which had been a feat in itself, given she had useless thready veins, yet he’d somehow managed to find one on her good arm.

And then she’d suddenly moved.

Which had caused more pain, made her yelp and Hugh had let out a hiss of frustration as the tiny plastic tube had kinked beneath his fingers and her vein had collapsed.

‘Come on, honey!’ Deb soothed. ‘You’re an Azetti—you should be used to this!’

Not this Azetti!

Having a girl after three strapping sons, her mother, it seemed to Bonita, should have wrapped her in cotton wool, dressed her in pink and enrolled her for ballet. Instead, until puberty had hit loudly, she had been raised as one of the boys, brought up in her brothers’ cast-offs and forced to play with their toys. She had proved a constant source of irritation to her mother because she hadn’t liked roughing it and, horror of horrors, had no affinity for horses. Sure, her mother and three brothers might pop out a shoulder or dislocate the odd patella when they took a tumble from a horse, and handle themselves with pained dignity, but it just wasn’t Bonita.

Like her Sicilian father, Luigi, emotion was Bonita’s forte, and Hugh knew that. He smiled just a touch as Bonita rolled her eyes at Deb’s comment and said nothing. Neither correcting nor commenting on the fact that he knew different.

‘Can’t you just do something for the pain?’

Impatient to get her to X-Ray, Hugh was trying to do just that, Bonita knew. He was holding up a mask and trying to be patient, but the rubbery smell, along with the anticipation of pain, was just upsetting her more.

‘Come on, now.’ He tried again to be nice. ‘I know you’re upset, I know you’re in pain, but if you just take a couple of big breaths of this and give me your arm, we can get an IV in and give you something more substantial for your pain.’ Which was the only thing Bonita wanted to hear. Oh, she’d dealt with plenty of dislocated shoulders in the year she’d worked here, knew that it hurt, only she hadn’t realised just how much.

‘I really think I’ve done more than just dislocate it…’ Bonita shivered. ‘It’s way worse than a straight dislocation—I think I might have fractured it or maybe done something to the nerves.’

‘Let’s just get something into you for pain, we’ll get some X-rays and then I’ll make my diagnosis!’

‘Oh, sorry, I forgot I was a mere nurse.’ Bonita smarted. ‘Forgive me for having an opinion!’

‘That’s quite all right, Nurse!’ He winked. Somehow Hugh had always put her in her place. Growing up, he’d made it clear she was an annoyance, had sat bored through her teenage tantrums and had roared with laughter when she’d announced she was going to be a nurse.

Why couldn’t he have stayed in England, where he belonged?

At eighteen he had come to Australia on a gap year. He’d intended to head back to England to study medicine, only Hugh had fallen in love with the country and after a year travelling, he’d transferred his course to Australia. At med school he’d met her brother Paul and become something of a regular fixture in the Azetti household during those years of study. Bonita’s parents had a sprawling home on the Mornington Peninsular where they ran a winery, growing their own grapes and producing a boutique wine. Along with her mother’s riding school, the winery had expanded successfully over the years. Apart from his blond hair, Hugh had slotted right in with her family. He’d come for regular dinners, stayed over sometimes, picked fruit during semester breaks, worked in the cellar door shop, exercised the horses—not that he’d needed to work, the Azettis had later found out. His family background meant he could have spent the six years it had taken to get through medical school concentrating solely on his studies and partying. Hugh, though, had managed to accommodate all three—work, study and partying, in fact he was a master of them all!

He was almost an honorary son in the Azetti household. One of the only times Bonita had actually seen her mother cry had been when Hugh’s father had fallen ill and Hugh had headed quickly back to the UK, not for a holiday, but to live.

Oh, he’d kept in touch, witty postcards and letters regularly appeared in their mailbox, and her mother Carmel had happily read them out. Paul often forwarded Hugh’s emails, regaling his latest tales of success, promotions, girlfriends, family deaths, engagements and breakups, but there had been no direct contact between Hugh and Bonita. His had just been a name that had cropped up in conversation, or in an email to read second hand that displayed his stunning dry wit. Bonita had watched Hugh grow from young man to mature adult on a third-party basis, only privy to his life by default.

Until six months ago.