‘There’s no “should” about it, and you’re not selfish,’ she told him fiercely. ‘Some people want to do it—they have their own reasons for doing it. Just as you have a very good reason for not doing it. And you do help people, Dragan. You help them here. Where they need you just as much.’
‘I still feel guilty.’
She kissed him gently. ‘What happened wasn’t your fault.’
‘Not the war. But my father…’ His voice trailed off.
‘What happened?’
He dragged in a breath. ‘The shock was too much. He collapsed. I know now it was probably a stroke, but back then my first aid was pretty basic. I could do mouth to mouth and I knew what to do if someone was drowning, but I really didn’t know what to do with a heart attack or a stroke. The phones lines were out so I couldn’t call an ambulance.’ Back then, mobile phones hadn’t been widespread, Melinda knew—that wouldn’t have been an option. ‘I managed to find someone with a car that could still be driven, borrowed it and took him to hospital.’
She knew from the bleakness in Dragan’s eyes that his father hadn’t made it.
‘He died in the queue for the emergency department. And I vowed then that I’d get the medical skills. It was too late for my family, but I could stop other people losing what I’d lost.’
‘Dragan, if it was a stroke, you probably couldn’t have done anything for him anyway.’
His jaw tightened. ‘I could’ve done more than I did.’
It wasn’t true, but she knew that this was an argument she wasn’t going to win. And she didn’t want to hurt him even more by pushing the issue and forcing him to confront it. Instead, she asked softly, ‘So you went back to university, switched your course from law to medicine?’
‘My father’s last words to me—he told me to go to England. Where I would be safe. Where I could carry on and know my family would be proud of me, whatever I chose to do.’
‘They’re proud of you,’ she said softly. ‘I believe people still look out for you when they’ve passed on. Like my nonna—my father’s mother. She supported me when I said I wanted to be a vet.’ The only one of Melinda’s family who’d accepted her choice of career. The only one who’d admitted that Melinda just wasn’t princess material and was far happier—not to mention better at—treating sick animals than she was schmoozing with foreign dignitaries and trying to remember the finer points of etiquette. ‘She died before I graduated, but I knew she was there on the day, applauding as I stepped onto the stage and accepted my degree from the chancellor of the university. And you—look at you. The village doctor. Everyone looks up to you because you’re a good man and you’re really good at your job. Your family are proud of you, Dragan.’
‘I hope so.’
‘They are.’ She hugged him. ‘So then you came here?’
‘Eventually. I needed to sort out the business first.’ He sighed. ‘The insurance didn’t cover acts of war. And there was nothing left of the boatyard. But I wasn’t going to let my family name be blackened, for people to say that Lovak Marine was bankrupt and defaulted on its debts.’
She could understand that. Honour was important to Dragan. And duty.
The thought pricked her conscience: she hadn’t exactly been a dutiful daughter, had she? Melinda Fortesque, MRCVS, had chosen the much lighter responsibilities of a village vet rather than helping to shoulder the burden of running the kingdom of Contarini. Some people would see that as absconding, avoiding what she’d been born to do. ‘So what did you do?’
‘I sold the land. Used the proceeds to settle the mortgage and the outstanding debts.’
‘And then you bought a ticket to England?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t have enough money after I’d paid the creditors, and our debtors were never going to be able to pay me what they owed. The debts had to be written off.’
Though he’d refused to let his family’s debts be written off. It wasn’t fair, Melinda thought. ‘So how did you get here?’
‘I bartered my way onto a ship—I would crew for them in exchange for my passage to England. And this country has been good to me, Melinda. The authorities let me stay. I had nothing—no proof of who I was, no proof that I had any qualifications in my homeland. I spent a year working as a waiter by day and studying for exams at night, until I had the qualifications I needed to study medicine.’
He’d worked his way up from nothing. Worked longer and harder than anyone else she knew. And her heart ached with pride in him. ‘You’re amazing,’ she said softly, stroking his face. ‘I don’t know anyone else who would have had the strength to do all that.’
He shrugged it off. ‘It wasn’t that big a deal.’
Yes, it was. ‘Some people, in your shoes, would be hard and bitter and never give anybody an inch. But you…you understand people. You care. Your family would be so proud of you. I’m proud of you.’
His dark eyes glittered, and he said nothing.
The strong, silent type. That was her Dragan. But now he’d opened up to her, she didn’t want him to close in on himself again. ‘So when you qualified, you came here?’ she asked.
‘I worked in London for a while. But I missed the sea. And then some friends brought me to Cornwall for the weekend. I fell in love with the area.’
‘Me, too.’
‘And I’m very, very glad I decided to stay. That I met you.’ He rested his forehead against hers. ‘I am sorry, piccola. I didn’t mean it to get this heavy. It’s not something I talk about.’
She could tell that. And how much it had stirred up his emotions. It was rare that his English slid from being perfectly accentless to having a strong Croatian accent. ‘But I hope talking to me helped,’ she said softly.
He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘So, zlato. You looked up Croatian phrases on the Internet, then?’
‘How else was I going to learn?’
‘You could have asked me.’
‘And you would have told me?’
He smiled. ‘Let me teach you something now. Volim te.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘The same as ti amo.’ He paused. ‘And I do. I love you, Melinda.’
It felt as if the room were full of butterflies, the sunlight dancing on their wings. Dragan loved her. And he loved her for who she was: Melinda Fortesque, country vet.
Then the butterflies went straight into her stomach. She really ought to tell him the rest of it. He’d told her everything, and she was holding out on him. But now really wasn’t the time or the place. And if she told him…would he stop loving her? Would he back away, feeling that she’d look down on him—even though she didn’t?
‘There was something else I wanted to say. But it’s too late for sunrise.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘I’ve never said this to anyone else. Ever.’
‘Now you’re worrying me.’ She kept her tone light, but fear flickered through her anyway. Had he found out about her family?
No, of course not. How could he possibly know?
But he looked so serious, so intense, that it scared her.
‘I wondered…’ And