The Doctor's Courageous Bride. Dianne Drake

      “And the rurals rarely seek out traditional medicine, Doctor?” Paul asked. “In my two years here on Kijé, I can recall only one or two instances where they came to the hospital. Most of the time they don’t trust us.”

      Solange smiled. “It’s a challenge. I understand that. But for me, I like knowing there’s help available if I need it. Someplace to send my patients if the situation warrants it.”

      “And how are you going to persuade them to come to me?”

      “I have a partner who travels with me who is the persuasive one. I think I’ll leave getting them here up to him.”

      “Another doctor?”

      Solange shook her head. “A monk. He’s wandered the mountains of Kijé for thirty years, getting to know the rurals, and they trust him.”

      “You can only mean Frère Léon, the one-man medical mission. I haven’t seen him for a while and I was wondering where he was.” He chuckled. “He is always a bit of a crusader, isn’t he, trying to set up better medical facilities throughout the island?”

      “And I’m the conquest of one of his recent crusades.” Solange laughed. “So now I travel about half my time, and I do have a little infirmary operating at an old mission halfway up the mountain. We offer basic care there, but not X-rays and lab work. And that’s what I want from you, Doctor. The ancillary services. Something that will give me the diagnostic tools I need.”

      Paul chuckled. “And here I was hoping that you’d sought me out for something other than my ancillary services.”

      “Sorry to disappoint you, but yours is the closest facility to my mountain, and I’ve heard you do brilliant work there.”

      “Ah, you do know how to crush a man, Doctor.”

      “Not crush, Doctor. Persuade.” She laughed. “So is it working? Are you persuaded yet? Or do I have more work to do here?”

      “Tell me who you are, Dr Léandre. You said you’re a doctor, and it’s obvious you’re Bertrand’s daughter. Actually, I’m surprised he’s never mentioned having a family, other than…Gabriella.”

      “My mother,” Solange whispered. Gone ten years now, mention of her mother still brought a lump to her throat. “My father doesn’t get past my mother, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of me from him. But to answer your question, I’m a doctor, specializing in public health and infectious disease. I’ve was working in a Miami clinic that closed up just over a year ago.” Locked up tight, building on the auction block, and a fiancé who’d thought it had been time to go upscale with their joint medical practice. Except, silly her, the legalities on the contract had made it his medical practice, his building, his decision. “So I came here to Kijé, took to the mountains, and the rest, as they say, is history.” Solange glanced over Paul’s shoulder to the door of Salon Rose, where her father’s party had already resumed with the next round of champagne and caviar, and where her father loomed, scowling in the doorway, a single malt Scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. “Do you have a room here at the hotel, Dr Killian? Someplace where we can talk privately, without my father’s scrutiny? He thinks I make bad career decisions and his position on this would be to install me as a medical director in a large hospital somewhere. His solution is always the biggest and the best.”

      Paul chuckled. “I’ve had that offer myself. Just a few minutes ago, actually.”

      “Then he must like you. Which is high praise, as my father is an exacting man who keeps most people at arm’s length.” She smiled at her father, who acknowledged it with a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “He really hates being left out of this, you know.”

      “Am I detecting a little angst in your family situation?”

      “A little. My sister, Solaina, was always better with Papa. I was better with Maman, I think. Her way to love her family was to nurture it. His way was to control it.” She shrugged. “But I didn’t come here to tell you my family history, Doctor.” Here, at L’Hôtel de Brise d’Océan. How ironic, after all these years. As a child, she’d played on the white sandy beaches outside, dined in the world-class dining room, slept in the down-filled beds. And she’d loved that life. But that had been so long ago, in more innocent times when she had been young. Now she wasn’t affected by the trappings. They were nice, as were the memories, but the aspiration to be part of that life again was so far removed from her reality she had a hard time even imagining it.

      Mauricio had aspired to the trappings, though. Wife, children, a nice home far, far away from the way they started out helping the needy. All desires he’d sneaked in on her, a little at a time. “So can we go somewhere and talk for a while? You tell me what you have to offer and I’ll tell you how I’d like to make use of it.”

      “Do you know how long it’s been since anybody said something like that to me?” Paul said, chuckling. “Like I said before, you really do know how to crush a man.”

      He grinned at her, and the warmth in his smile almost distracted her. But she had to be careful. The Mission, Sol. “Look. I want to apologize for the way I stormed in there…” She glanced down at her attire, then over at his. “I don’t always think these things through before I act, and when I read in the Port Georges paper that my father was to be here this evening, with you, I suppose you can see that I didn’t think it through as far as I should have. So why don’t you go back in there, enjoy the rest of the party, and maybe later we could meet for a chat, figure out how your hospital can work for my patients. If certain days are better than others for routine tests, what specific kinds of tests you’re set up to do…”

      “And I don’t suppose I could convince you to join me?”

      She laughed. “Not a chance. I’ve had my share of that life and, trust me, I don’t belong in there. So you go back, and when you’ve finished, I’ll be waiting in the lobby for you.”

      “You don’t give up, do you?” he asked.

      “We all do what we have to do, don’t we? Especially if we believe in it.” She wasn’t getting a good read of him yet. Definitely not a no, but also not a yes. He had kind eyes, though—eyes she caught herself trusting easily.

      “Would you be more comfortable in the bar than my hotel room, or maybe having dinner?” He glanced at her father. “The lobster here is fabulous.”

      “This is not a date, Dr Killian,” Solange countered, not sure what to make of this whole thing. It was promising, but on what level? Personal, professional? Was he simply scouting a bedmate for the night or honestly interested in listening to her? “I don’t need to be entertained in a bar, and I certainly don’t need lobster, fabulous or otherwise.”

      Paul chuckled. “You really don’t give up.”

      “I really can’t give up. My medical practice is expanding now that the villagers in the mountains are getting used to me, and even trusting me. And I want to get this arrangement taken care of before there’s an urgent need. I’m assuming that you’ll make your facilities available to my patients. Or am I mistaken?”

      “Of course I’ll make my facilities available.”

      “Which leaves us to the ways, Dr Killian.”

      “And the means, Dr Léandre. I always have to figure in the means.” Paul glanced over at her father, who was beginning to inch closer to hear the conversation. “So about that lobster dinner…?”

      Solange smiled. In spite of her caution, she liked him. He was to the point, but charmingly so. And he did so tempt her to veer off course for a little while. “I do like lobster, but I’m not dressed for the dining room and I’m sure there’s a dress code, so I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on the offer.” Safe comeback, and on the personal side, all she wanted was safe.

      Paul took Solange’s arm. “You’re dressed better than anyone you’ll find in the dining room, in my opinion anyway.