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“Why?” And they won’t rest until they’ve got an answer.’ She spread her hands. ‘So telling them it’s over is only going to make things worse. And it’s also not true anyway.’

      ‘It’s over,’ Dragan repeated.

      ‘Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me any more,’ she challenged.

      He looked away. ‘I don’t love you any more.’

      ‘Yes, you do,’ she said softly. ‘Dragan, you’re hurting both of us. I understand you’re angry with me for keeping things from you. I messed up. But how long are you going to make both of us pay for my mistake?’

      ‘It’s not just that. How do I know you’re not keeping anything else from me?’

      ‘I’m not.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘So you’re saying you don’t trust me any more?’

      ‘Right now,’ he said quietly, ‘I don’t know what I feel. Except mixed up. A few days ago everything was simple. Now it’s a minefield. Whatever I do suddenly has all sorts of consequences. I’m in a world where I don’t belong.’

      ‘I don’t belong there either.’

      ‘You were born into it,’ he reminded her. ‘That is who you are.’

      ‘No, it isn’t.’ She sighed. ‘This is getting us nowhere. Dragan, when are you going to see—?’

      His mobile phone rang, cutting into her question.

      ‘I’m on call,’ he reminded her. He glanced at the screen. ‘It’s the surgery.’

      ‘A patient needs you.’ She frowned. ‘You’d better answer that. We’ll talk about this later, when we have more time. Ciao.’

      CHAPTER TEN

      DRAGAN didn’t ring Melinda that night. He didn’t want another of those circular arguments; right now he needed some space. Time to think.

      Bramble lay at his feet, nose on her paws, staring at the door and clearly waiting for Melinda to appear.

      ‘I know I’m hurting you, too, and I’m sorry,’ Dragan said ruefully. ‘But she’s not ours any more. I was stupid to let her close to us in the first place—I should’ve learned by now that if you let people too close, you lose them. And somehow we both need to learn to stop loving her.’

      The dog blew out a breath, and continued staring at the door.

      Melinda didn’t ring him—clearly realising that he needed some time—and Dragan spent most of the night watching the minute hand on his alarm clock drag slowly round. When he got to the surgery the following morning, tiredness meant he wasn’t in the best of tempers.

      ‘A word,’ Nick said, leaning against the doorjamb.

      I’m really not in the mood for you this morning, Dragan thought, but forced himself to smile at the senior partner. ‘What can I do for you, Nick?’

      ‘All this royal stuff. I’m worried that it’s going to affect the practice.’

      ‘It’s not going to affect the practice.’ So far today the paparazzi had left the surgery alone. But that might be because they were camping outside the veterinary surgery, he thought wryly.

      ‘I just want to make sure that nobody’s going to have any problem doing their job.’

      The holier-than-thou attitude stuck in Dragan’s throat. And before he could stop himself, he snapped, ‘I’m not the one who affects the practice by screwing up relationships with the staff.’

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Nick demanded.

      ‘Get your own house in order before you start trying to organise mine.’ Dragan knew he should shut up, and shut up now—but the pent-up anger of the last few days was too much for him. ‘That girlfriend of yours, Natasha, is upsetting the staff every time she expects them to be her personal secretarial service. And look at the way you behaved towards Ben and Lucy, look at how things were between you and Jack—and I bet they’re not much better between you and Edward. Then there’s the way you never date anyone more than half a dozen times, with the excuse that you don’t want to get close to anyone after you lost Annabel.’ He ignored the fact that he’d made exactly the same decision after losing his family. ‘Do you really think she’d want you to live like this?’ Dragan shook his head. ‘You’re brilliant with patients but your personal life is a complete mess, so don’t you tell me what to do, Nicholas Tremayne.’

      Nick’s jaw dropped and he just stood there, clearly lost for words and looking shocked.

      Probably because Dragan was always quiet and professional. Well, today he’d had enough of being quiet. He’d had enough, full stop.

      ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have patients to see. And we are trying to stick to our ten-minute slots, are we not?’

      To Dragan’s relief, Nick took the hint.

      Though he also banged Dragan’s door very hard as he left.

      The morning surgery calmed Dragan’s temper, and by the end of his session he was feeling thoroughly guilty. He’d overstepped the mark. Big time. He checked on the computer that Nick was free, then walked across the corridor to the consulting room opposite his and knocked quietly on the door.

      ‘Yes?’ Nick snapped.

      Dragan opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. ‘I owe you an apology. What I said was out of order. Your personal life is none of my business.’

      ‘Apology accepted.’ Nick raised an eyebrow. ‘Though it’s the first time I’ve ever known you lose your temper.’

      ‘I’m sorry. It was unprofessional of me.’

      ‘It was human,’ Nick said, surprising him. ‘You’ve been under a hell of a strain these last few days. And you can’t exactly go and punch one of the paparazzi or the pictures will be splashed all over the tabloids.’

      ‘Sadly, Nick, you’re absolutely right.’ Dragan shrugged. ‘It’ll die down. I’m only sorry that it’s making people’s lives a bit difficult around here.’

      ‘Hazel told me one of them had been in here the other day, giving her a hard time—and you sorted it out. Thank you.’

      ‘It’s my job,’ Dragan said. He wondered if Hazel had also let slip about Kate’s reaction to Natasha—a reaction that had made Dragan wonder just what the midwife’s feelings were about Dr Nicholas Tremayne.

      ‘Even so. I should’ve been here.’

      ‘You weren’t on call,’ Dragan pointed out. ‘And you were busy with, um…’ He just about managed to stop himself using Kate’s nickname for the woman—or the one he’d bestowed himself, Cruella De Vil.

      ‘Going to lecture me again?’ Nick asked.

      ‘No. All I will say is that families are important. And I don’t think someone that shallow and self-centred will fit in with Lucy and Ben or Jack, Alison and Freddie.’

      Nick didn’t correct him, Dragan noticed. So clearly he knew what Natasha Wakefield was really like. He looked thoughtful. ‘Anyone would think you have someone else in mind for me.’

      Someone like Kate with her warmth and her calm, common-sense attitude towards life. Though Nick would probably deem her not glamorous enough. And it wasn’t any of his business anyway. Dragan shook his head ruefully. ‘With the mess I’ve made of my own personal life, I’m in no position to give advice.’

      ‘I think,’ Nick said wryly, ‘you were right about what you said this morning. I’m not giving advice either. Except I could do with a pint and a spot of lunch—and you look as if you could do with one, too. Smugglers Inn?’

      ‘I

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