A Familiar Stranger. Caroline AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
wiser now. Would it hurt less? She didn’t think so. Jessie was right, it was over but it wasn’t done with. Not by a long way—at least not for Janna. Finn had left it behind him years ago, which was the trouble, of course. If only she could let it go too, perhaps she might heal, but the pain of his rejection and indifference was with her daily. They could have had so much, and yet they had nothing, their love swept aside by his sudden and inexplicable return to their long-standing friendship.
He had come back at Christmas, months after her birthday, after their loving, after his promises, and had treated her exactly as he always had, as if the summer had never happened. She had been so shocked and hurt that she had avoided him all that holiday, and ever since she had gone out of her way to avoid him.
Well, she wouldn’t be able to now. They were stuck with each other, working together, and she was going to have to put on the acting performance of her life to survive it.
For a long time she stood motionless, staring out over the water, and then with a sigh she turned and walked back towards the rocks.
As she did so she felt a sudden prickle of awareness and glanced up. There was nothing there, of course. It was just because she was thinking of him, in this place which had been so special to them that summer. She was conjuring his presence out of thin air, an extension of her night-time fantasies, her dream lover come back to haunt her. And yet the prickle was still there …
She scanned the area again. Nothing. All she could see were the sheep, grazing around the ruins of McPhee’s derelict barn—the barn where she and Finn had lain together seven years ago and promised each other eternity.
Then she saw him, silhouetted in the doorway, tall, broad, his dark hair touched with red by the sun, an old T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, tucked into snug jeans, faded and ancient and clinging lovingly to his narrow hips and long, lean legs. Nothing changes, she thought in despair. He was exactly as she remembered him, and the effect he had on her was just the same.
She stood transfixed, her heart thrashing in her chest, desperately trying to swallow the lump in her throat as he threaded his way surefootedly over the rocks towards her.
She couldn’t move, her feet rooted to the sand, but it didn’t matter because he came to her anyway, moving with an easy grace as he sprang lightly down off the rocks and came to rest a few feet away.
‘Janna.’
Just the one word, but it took her breath away. His voice hadn’t changed at all—deep, soft, slightly husky, it sent shivers racing over her skin and turned her resolve to mush.
With a superhuman effort she dragged air into her lungs and met his clear blue-grey eyes, navy-ringed around the iris and able to see clear through to her heart—or so she had once thought. They hadn’t seen her pain, though, so apparently they were just ordinary eyes after all, if one discounted how incredibly beautiful they were …
‘Hello, Finn.’
He studied her for a moment, his head tipped to one side, and then clicked his tongue.
‘You’ve lost weight.’
She gave a strained little laugh. ‘I needed to.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You were perfect just as you were. Oh, Janna, it’s good to see you again.’
Without warning he took the last step forward and enveloped her in a huge, bone-cracking hug. Her nostrils were assailed with the familiar scent of his skin, and for a second she allowed herself the luxury of returning his hug, her arms sliding round his big ribcage, her hands involuntarily flattening against his smooth-muscled back.
His body was warm under her palms, warm and lean and solid, bigger even than she remembered. She ached to hold him, to stand there in the shelter of his arms and hang on for dear life. For a moment, it almost seemed as if they were lovers again, as if her love was returned by the man in her arms …
She was deluding herself. Dropping her hands back to her sides, she straightened away from him. He let her go, his large hands cupping her shoulders and holding her at arm’s length while he studied her face, his own creasing in a frown.
‘You look tired,’ he told her bluntly.
‘I am. It’s the height of the summer season. All the visitors are here, and we seem to have a particularly stupid lot this year.’
Laughter touched his eyes. ‘They can’t be that stupid. They chose the most beautiful place in the world to have their holidays.’ He released her and turned towards the sea, gazing out as she had done, his eyes reflecting the islands and the changing clouds in the sky. ‘I’ve missed it so much—the sea, the gulls, the people—and you, Janna.’
She swallowed and turned away, refusing to be lulled by the sincerity in his voice. ‘Me?’ she said with a fragile laugh.
‘Does that seem so strange?’ he asked softly.
Strange? Why should it be strange that he should vow to love her for all time and then forget about it for seven long, aching, miserable years until it was convenient to amble back into her life? Did he really expect her to believe he had missed her? Hardly, surely!
And, just because he was back, did he imagine they could pick up where they left off?
‘It’s been a long time, Finn.’
‘Twelve years since I left.’
And seven since their summer. ‘I’ve changed,’ she told him.
‘I would hope we both have. That doesn’t mean we have to forget the things that were once important to us.’
Did that include her? Her heart, always the optimist, jerked against her ribs, but then common sense reasserted itself. No, she was just simply available, a passably attractive woman—and an old lover, to boot—still unattached in an area where there were only a handful of young people and most of those still at school. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t try to take advantage of her availability. Janna knew that, just as she knew how easy it would be to turn back to him, to hold out her hand, to lead him up the hill to the barn and there——
No! She wouldn’t allow him to use her as a convenience—even if he did only have to crook his little finger before she wanted to run to him.
Bending, she scooped up her shoes and tights. ‘I have to go—another visit on the way home,’ she lied.
‘Will I see you at Bill MacWhirter’s do tonight?’ he asked.
She stopped in her tracks. Of course, he would be there too. He was taking over from the old doctor. From now on he would be everywhere. Every time she turned round or looked up or breathed in, he would be there. Could she cope?
She would have to. She would be strong, and hold him at a distance, and then he would leave her alone. He must. Please, God, he must …
‘Yes,’ she told him evenly. ‘I’ll be there.’ Then she walked away, and with every step she could feel his eyes burning into her spine.
As she reached the car he called her name.
She turned back towards him. ‘Yes?’
‘If you’re going on a visit you might want to do something about your skirt,’ he said with a grin, and she glanced down to see with horror that her skirt was still tucked into her knicker-legs like a little girl’s. Blushing furiously, she tugged the thing down and slid behind the wheel, dusting the worst of the sand off her feet before shoving them into her shoes without the tights. It didn’t matter. There was no visit, anyway.
Hands shaking so badly that she could scarcely fasten her seatbelt, she started the car and drove a little way, before pulling over and sagging over the steering-wheel with a sigh of frustration. How was she going to cope with him? He would drive her crazy—that megawatt charm and wicked, wicked grin undermining all her good intentions.
‘Damn you, Finlay McGregor,’ she muttered. ‘Damn you for coming back and messing