A Cotswold Christmas Bride. Joanna Neil

      ‘I’m sure I’ll manage—unless …’ she gave a crooked smile ‘… you have any ideas on how to curb a playful goat who won’t stop butting people at inopportune moments? His horns are curved, but they can be quite tough, and I can tell you I’m getting quite sore.’

      He laughed. ‘No wonder you’re feeling the strain.

      I’d be the same way if I had to fend off an aggressive goat before work. A bit of padding down your jeans, perhaps? All I know is, it’s best to train them off the habit when they’re young.’

      She nodded. ‘Yes, we tried that, but George is very stubborn. He thinks he rules the roost—along with the goose, who believes it’s his job to keep the hens in order.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Sorry, but I must go.’

      ‘I’ll see you at lunchtime, then? One o’clock, in the restaurant. My treat.’

      ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘If I can get away.’ With any luck, she’d find a reason why she needed to be on the ward at one o’clock. Instinct warned her that she should steer clear of Lucas. He was keen to start up some kind of relationship with her, and that was the last thing she wanted. She’d been hurt before, and she wasn’t looking to go that way again.

      He watched her walk away, and she felt his gaze scorching into her back as she went through the wide glass doors and out into the corridor. He was persistent, that was for sure.

      On the paediatric ward, Sophie went to see Marcus, her little patient who was suffering from heart problems. He was four years old, a generally bright, happy child, but he was back in hospital right now, suffering from shortness of breath and trouble with his blood pressure. He was receiving oxygen through tubing that fitted into his nostrils.

      ‘Hello, Marcus,’ she greeted him. He had dark, tousled hair, and mischievous brown eyes that sought her out whenever she was close by. Now he was concentrating hard on a jigsaw puzzle, his tongue thrust out over his lower lip as he searched for the right piece. ‘How are you getting on with the puzzle?’

      Marcus frowned. ‘Can’t find pussycat’s ear,’ he said. ‘I had it, but then my leg hurt and jumped up and it made me knock the puzzle over. It went … whoosh.’ He waved his arms in a wide arc to show Sophie what had happened.

      ‘Oh dear … so now you’ve had to start all over again?’

      He nodded.

      ‘That’s a shame … but you seem to be doing very well, all the same. You’ve done half of it already.’

      It was worrying that he’d started having leg cramps again—it was a sign that the circulation to the lower half of his body was weak, one of the symptoms of his condition. He had been born with a narrowing of the aorta, the main blood vessel of the heart, and that could only be corrected by surgery.

      She looked around. ‘I wonder if any of the puzzle pieces fell on to the floor?’ Bending down, she searched the area around his bed, and came up triumphantly a moment later with two pieces of puzzle. ‘Aha … I think we’ve found the kitten’s ear,’ she said with a smile, handing them over. ‘Perhaps you could put them in place, and then I’ll check your blood pressure?’

      He nodded obligingly. He was a good-natured boy, and it tore at Sophie’s heart that his body let him down.

      She left him at work on his puzzle a few minutes later, and went to speak to the nurse. ‘I’m going to alter his medication,’ she told Hannah as she wrote instructions on his chart. ‘We’ll give him a slightly higher dose to strengthen the contractions of the heart. That should help ease the leg cramps. Did Mr Burnley say when he was hoping to operate?’

      Hannah shook her head. ‘He’s talking to the parents now. He wants to do an echocardiogram so that he can see how the heart is working. He’s scheduled it for tomorrow morning.’

      ‘Good.’ It was a simple, non-invasive procedure, using ultrasound to transfer images of the heart in action on to a computer screen, and it wasn’t something that would upset Marcus in any way. ‘Let’s hope the medication does the trick. The sooner we can get him stabilised, the sooner he can have surgery.’

      Sophie spent the rest of the morning tending to the other patients on the ward. One o’clock came and went, and it was only when Lucas startled her by coming onto the ward that she remembered she was supposed to have met up with him. Seeing him stride briskly into her territory filled her with unease. What would it take for him to realise that she really didn’t want to get to know him better?

      ‘Since you didn’t come to the restaurant for lunch,’ he remarked, walking to where she stood by the nurses’ station, writing up her notes, ‘I thought I’d better bring lunch to you.’

      He was holding two sturdy, waxed carrier bags, and she frowned, wondering what on earth he had brought with him. ‘Um … we’ve been really busy here this morning,’ she murmured.

      ‘Of course. It’s like that down in A and E all the time. The only difference is we encourage staff to take their breaks whenever possible, otherwise they’ll begin to flag before the day is out.’

      He glanced around the ward. ‘Everything looks fairly peaceful here at the moment. Dare I hope that you might come and share some food with me?’ He lifted a dark brow in invitation, wafting one of the bags in front of her nose. A delicious aroma of cinnamon, fruit and pastries filled the air, and in spite of herself Sophie’s mouth began to water.

      ‘I take it you haven’t already eaten?’ he queried.

      She shook her head. ‘Not since I grabbed a cereal bar this morning. I should have stopped for a snack mid-morning, but you know how it is—something cropped up.’

      He tut-tutted. ‘It won’t do, you know. Doctors have to take care of themselves. How else can they expect to be fit enough to take care of their patients?’ He looked around. ‘Is there somewhere we can go to sit and eat this?’

      She frowned. It would be criminal to let that food go to waste. ‘The office is empty right now,’ she suggested. ‘There’s a kettle in there, so we can have a hot drink if you like.’

      ‘No need,’ he said, ‘unless you’d rather have tea. It’s all in hand. I brought coffee along with me.’

      ‘Okay.’ She showed him into the office, and then peered into the carrier bags that he set down on the desk. ‘Goodness! You thought of everything.’

      His grey eyes crinkled. ‘I do my best.’ He began to take out packages, and Sophie watched as appetising dishes appeared one by one.

      ‘I’m overwhelmed.’ Sophie smiled as she surveyed the feast. ‘It’s everything I might have bought for myself.’

      ‘It just goes to show that great minds think alike,’ he murmured, setting out cutlery on the desktop. He sat down opposite her. ‘So, how come you only managed a cereal bar this morning? If that’s how you normally go on, it’s no wonder you have fainting attacks.’

      ‘Like I said, I’d really rather forget about that,’ she answered, frowning. ‘I told you I was stressed. It’s just that there’s so much to do, what with feeding the animals twice a day and making sure they’re clean and comfortable. Then there are the eggs to collect, and the fruit needs picking before it rots on the stems. We grow several different kinds of fruit on the farm—strawberries, raspberries, redcurrants and cranberries.’

      She drew in a quick breath. ‘It’s late in the season, but a good many of the plants are still fruiting because they’re under cover in polythene tunnels. I should have started on it before this, but there’s been so much to do. It was okay when my parents were alive, because they took care of everything. I helped out when I could, but coping with all this on my own is a bit beyond me at the moment.’

      Her expression was thoughtful. ‘The cranberries, especially, are ripe for picking. Every year I would help my mother gather them in, and then we would make cranberry sauce, jar upon