His Perfect Bride?

‘What a welcome to the village!’

He attempted a smile. ‘We did what we could for her.’

‘I worry that it’s not enough. Poor thing.’

‘We’ll find the mum.’

‘But what if we don’t? That baby will enter the system and there’s no guarantee of a happy ending for her, you know? Not all foster homes are great.’

He cocked his head to one side. ‘Are you speaking from experience?’

She met his gaze, noticing how beautiful his dark blue eyes were, framed by thick dark lashes. Men could be so lucky with their eyelashes, it seemed.

Lula nodded, deciding to be open with him. ‘I was like that little baby once. But I wasn’t left in a cardboard box in the snow in the middle of winter. My mother left me in a Moses basket on a beach.’

‘You were abandoned?’ He sat forward.

She gave a wry smile. ‘From what I know, I was found by a family who were packing up their beach hut. They’d been with their kids by the water’s edge, paddling and stuff. When they came back they found me. My mother had left a note, saying how sorry she was, how much she regretted doing it, but that she couldn’t keep me. With the note was this.’ She reached into her neckline and pulled out a silver necklace with a heart charm on the end. ‘She signed the note with the initials “EL”.’

‘“EL”? That’s all you were left with?’

‘And that she’d called me Louise.’ Lula sipped her drink and smiled at him. ‘You don’t have to feel sorry for me, you know. I’ve lived my life to the full.’

‘It’s not over yet. You’ve got years left.’

‘We never know, though, do we? I could get knocked down by a bus tomorrow.’

He frowned. ‘Actually, you couldn’t. There’s no bus service tomorrow.’

She smiled, but then Olly was serious again. ‘What happened to you?’

Lula shrugged. ‘I went from home to home till I was about seven and then I got put with a family who decided they wanted to adopt me.’

‘The Chances?’

‘Yes. They were lovely—really sweet people—but I knew I didn’t belong to them.’

‘They’d chosen you. Out of all those children looking for a permanent home, they picked you. You should be pleased about that.’

‘They had other adopted children and each of them had a problem, too. A health problem. Peter and Daisy Chance seemed to go after all the hard-luck cases—don’t ask me why.’

‘Perhaps they thought that children with issues needed the most love?’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘But what was wrong with you? If you don’t mind me asking?’

She smiled. ‘I had leukaemia. Childhood leukaemia. They had no idea if I was going to live or die, and still the Chances wanted me. That was pretty brave of them, huh?’

He nodded, thoughtful.

‘I got better—though the chemo did some horrible things.’

‘But you got through it okay?’

‘As okay as I could at that age.’

Olly smiled. ‘You seem well now, though, and—as you say yourself—you pack everything into life. You work as a doctor, which is hard work and stressful, and you do other stuff, too.’

‘I made the decision to be happy and enjoy life and take my medicine every day.’ She smiled at him.

He looked at her strangely and she laughed at the curious frown on his face. ‘Why are you laughing?’

‘It was your face!’ She chuckled.

‘Thanks. A man likes to know his looks are amusing.’

‘It’s not your looks, Olly. There’s nothing wrong with those. But it was the way you looked at me.’

‘I was admiring you,’ he protested. ‘I mean, I was admiring your attitude to life. Not admiring you, per se. Not with that hair,’ he added with a wry grin.

She pursed her lips with amusement and then stood up and looked in the mirror over the fireplace. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my hair.’ She checked some of the strands, tweaking and rearranging her colours.

He stood up next to her and they both looked at each other in the mirror’s reflection. ‘No, of course not—it’s very … conservative.’

‘Hah! Now you’re being a snob. I thought I might add another colour to it, actually.’

‘Really?’ He raised his eyebrows in question.

‘What do you think to making the rest of it green?’

‘You can’t be serious?’

‘I’m deadly serious.’

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His open-mouthed flustering made her burst into more laughter and she punched him playfully on the arm. ‘I’m just joshing with you. Of course I’m not going green.’

‘Thank God for that! ’

‘I was thinking more like letter-box red.’

He didn’t believe her this time. He picked up his jacket and threw it on. ‘Well, though it has been fun, Dr Chance, deciding whether you want to look like your head has been in a collision with a paint factory, you and I need to put in an appearance at work. Otherwise the whole village may well fall foul of a deadly plague without our being in our chairs, ministering to the sick.’

‘Hmm … I’m not one to turn down the chance of fighting an epidemic.’

‘Ready to go, then?’

She put on her own coat and the incredibly long scarf that she’d been wearing earlier. ‘As I’ll ever be.’