She hid her surprise. She’d expected him to be angry or embarrassed by her accusations, instead of which he seemed amused. Not by the merest flicker of an eyelid did he indicate that her damning words had had any impact on him whatsoever. Evidently his dreadful reputation didn’t worry him in the slightest.

He looked at her keenly. ‘How did your sister die?’

His tone was surprisingly gentle and Jenny swallowed hard. ‘She had a pulmonary embolus after the birth. It was all very sudden. I—I didn’t even know she was having the baby,’ she choked, unable to continue, and suddenly she felt his hand on her shoulder, pushing her towards one of the wooden chairs that faced out towards the sea.

‘Sit down,’ he said roughly. ‘I’ll get you a drink.’

Jenny struggled to contain the tears, furious with herself. She’d cried so many tears over Chloe she didn’t think she had any left inside her. And she really, really didn’t want to cry in front of Alex Westerling. He was the last person she’d turn to for sympathy.

He was partly to blame for the whole sorry situation.

He pressed a glass into her hands and she sipped the fiery liquid, choking slightly as it hit the back of her throat.

‘Ugh! That’s disgusting.’

‘It’s single malt,’ he said dryly, a hint of amusement in his blue eyes. ‘Certainly not disgusting.’

She screwed up her face but forced herself to take another tentative sip. ‘I’m OK now.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Sorry. It’s just that I still can’t quite believe she’s…’ She broke off and swallowed hard. ‘She was younger than me, you see.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Younger?’

‘She was twenty when she had Daisy. She died a few days later.’

Alex pulled out the chair next to her. ‘Look—I’m sorry about your sister and I can see she’s left you with a hell of a problem, but—’

‘Daisy isn’t a problem, Dr Westerling,’ Jenny said passionately, her hand shaking so much that some of the contents of the glass sloshed onto her fingers. ‘Daisy is wonderful and without her I don’t know what I’d—’

‘All right, calm down.’ Alex reached out and took the glass from her. ‘I’ll have that before you spill any more.’ He put the glass on the table and sighed. ‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t the most tactful thing to say but I’m decidedly short on sleep and saying the right thing is hard when you’re as knackered as I am.’

She looked at him, startled by the apology. She hadn’t thought he’d be the sort of man who would apologise easily.

‘Perhaps if you spent less time socialising you wouldn’t be so tired.’

The moment the words left her mouth she bit her lip, wishing she could retract them. ‘I apologise,’ she mumbled, her cheeks growing red. ‘That was very rude of me.’

Alex laughed. ‘You were quite happy to turn up on my doorstep flinging wild accusations—why are you apologising for being rude?’