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Surely the woman realised that it had been a purely professional decision for the good-looking doctor to accompany her? Melanie was a beautiful young woman with the sort of curves that Laurel could only sigh for. After all those years of ‘blunt speaking’ by Robert Wainwright, she knew only too well that she had few charms to attract a man’s eye. Least of all now, when she was being so careful not to draw attention to herself. If Robert Wainwright tracked her down before she found her sister, her rebellion would all have been in vain. She had no doubt that the man would be desperate enough by now to resort to all sorts of underhand tactics to achieve his aim.
Her heart gave a thud of fear before she deliberately set her thoughts on a different track…such as the handsome doctor’s completely unexpected response towards her.
Had her attempts at merging into the background completely failed today? Dmitri Rostropovich’s eyes seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time looking in her direction. And the only reason she knew that was because, even though her hands were busy noting down the readings of Jason Sweeny’s temperature, blood pressure and pulse from the electronic monitors onto his charts, her own gaze seemed magnetically attracted to him.
Unfortunately, Jason’s mother, who had rarely left his bedside once she’d been released from her own, had noticed her preoccupation.
‘He’s a good looker, isn’t he, Nurse?’ she prompted slyly, and Laurel felt the flush of heat travelling inexorably upward from her throat to her tightly restrained hair. How could she have forgotten just how sharp-eyed some people could be when there wasn’t much else to watch?
She bit her tongue as she hung the clipboard on the end of the high-tech trolley, hoping desperately to find some way of avoiding an answer.
‘Well, Nurse?’ he prompted, startling her into looking up into the wicked gleam in his eyes. He’d leaned himself against the column supporting the monitor displays while he’d chatted easily with Mrs Sweeny. Now he’d folded his arms across his chest as though he had the whole day to wait for her answer. ‘Do you agree with Mrs Sweeny?’
The pair of them exchanged a telling glance, grey eyes meeting blue, each knowing that they had put her on the spot.
Laurel felt the familiar anxiety start to swamp her, the feeling that she just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. And what was worse, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from him.
If he could read her thoughts and feelings in her eyes, what would he think of her cowardly nature?
He wouldn’t know about the years she’d spent as the butt of Robert Wainwright’s caustic wit. Then, defiance had only earned her the label of ‘disturbed child’ and another handful of tranquillisers.
In the end, her only defence had been silence and stoicism while her resentment had grown, and in her undrugged moments her determination to find some way out of the destructive situation.
Then, for the first time in her life, she felt a sudden surge of something new. She didn’t know what it was or what was causing it. Could it be something to do with the expression in a certain pair of liquid silver eyes?
‘I suppose he’s quite good-looking, Mrs Sweeny,’ she admitted grudgingly. She flicked her gaze over him from head to foot and back again, his elegant grey suit doing more to enhance his lean physique than disguise it, then made sure there was more than a hint of doubt in her intonation. ‘That’s if you like them long and skinny.’
Mrs Sweeny burst out laughing.
‘That told you, didn’t it?’ She laughed gleefully up at Dmitri Rostropovich, her perpetually worried eyes brightening briefly with a flash of humour. ‘I’m so glad that we women are getting a chance to put a man in his place these days.’
Laurel found herself holding her breath, waiting for his response. What on earth had possessed her to talk to him like that? Apart from the foolishness of drawing attention to herself, she knew better than to provoke a man into anger by answering back.
Then he chuckled.
‘Oh, yes, Mrs Sweeny. I certainly like a woman who knows how to put a man in his place,’ he agreed. ‘The only trouble is, most men don’t know their place until a woman shows them.’
There was something in his gaze that made Laurel feel warm inside, almost as if she were basking in the warmth of a summer’s day, and it was a feeling she wanted to explore. Perhaps…
‘Haven’t you finished that yet, Nurse?’ Melanie Richards’s voice snapped, dispelling the warmth with a blast of frigid disapproval. ‘I thought you were supposed to be fully qualified for this job, but you’re as slow as the greenest student.’
‘I’m sorry—’ Laurel began, automatically apologising even though she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong.
‘That would be my fault,’ Dmitri interrupted smoothly, straightening up from his relaxed slouch against the column supporting the monitoring equipment to his full six feet plus. Laurel couldn’t help noticing that there was no smile in evidence any more either. ‘My interruptions might have delayed her but they didn’t interfere with the standard of Laurel’s work.’
‘Oh, well, I…’ Melanie began backtracking, fast.
‘And she’s got very gentle hands, too,’ Mrs Sweeny butted in. ‘Not like some of the nurses. Sometimes you get the feeling that they’re trying to do too many jobs at once and doing none of them well.’
‘Yes, well, Staff Nurse Norris is back now, so you can take these papers to Administration,’ Melanie ordered repressively, before turning her attention on the handsome doctor with a renewed smile. ‘Have you got time for a cup of tea, or perhaps you’d prefer coffee?’
‘Actually, I know I’m not due on duty until tomorrow, but I think I’d prefer to take a trip around the department, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Of course it is. And I can answer any questions as we go round,’ Laurel heard her gush, and gritted her teeth as she shouldered her way through the door and paused to hear the security latch click firmly closed behind her. Did the woman have no idea about subtlety?
‘That would take up far too much of your valuable time,’ she heard him say firmly. ‘I would rather familiarise myself with the department in my own way, if you don’t mind. If I have any questions, I can ask you later, perhaps?’
‘Well, of course. If that’s the way you would prefer it.’
Melanie’s annoyance at having her invitation turned down was so clear that Laurel couldn’t help laughing to herself as she set off on her time-wasting errand. It was good to know that their new doctor wasn’t going to be taken in by a woman with a pretty face. He definitely knew his own mind.
Perhaps he would even be able to do something about making better use of her presence in the unit. Each of their little charges needed the equivalent of five and a half nurses and they were desperately short of fully qualified staff. Even though she lacked experience, it just didn’t make sense to send her off on errands that could just as easily have been done by a porter.
The smile put on Laurel’s face by Dmitri’s rebuff of Melanie Richards’s cloying attention didn’t last for long. How could it when inside her head there was a maelstrom of thoughts whirling and colliding in chaotic confusion?
And all because of Dr Dmitri Rostropovich.
What was it about the man?
She’d only met him this morning and already it looked as if he’d caused mayhem in the calm, ordered life she’d created for herself.
For a start, he seemed to have completely scrambled her emotions. Not so very long ago she’d been in the middle of preparations for a wedding to a man who’d never even made her heart skip a beat in all the time she’d known him. Now she’d met a man who created wild Latin-American dance rhythms in her blood with nothing more than the sound of his voice or a wicked smile.
One part of her—a very large part—was only too willing to explore these enticing new sensations. The other part was far more sane and rational, reminding her of the reasons why she was here in the hospital at all.
If she’d stayed where she had been she’d be a married woman by now, browbeaten into obedience by Robert Wainwright purely because she’d realised it had been her only escape from a life lived permanently under his thumb.
The sole reason why she’d been at the right place and time to meet Dmitri was because she was searching for her sister, and the only way she’d been able to do that was by changing her name and moving away from everything and everyone she knew.
Still, the feminine side of her couldn’t resist the suggestion that Dmitri found her attractive. Well, he seemed to prefer her company to Melanie’s, at least.
Who knew what might develop over the next days and weeks? For the first time in a very long time she was actually looking forward to finding out.
‘If I’d known then what I know now,’ she muttered through chattering teeth, her breath emerging in a ghostly cloud, visible even in the dark of the car.
She had no idea how long she’d been here. At this time of the year any time between four o’clock and seven o’clock would be dark whichever end of the day they appeared.
With a feeling of dread she realised that it must still be evening, and the only reason it seemed lighter was because the snow was beginning to accumulate around the car.
She almost regretted her return to the stark reality of her present situation. It was far more pleasant reliving those first heady days after she’d met Dmitri.
She glanced at the luminous dial on her watch and was surprised to see that it was only just past four in the afternoon.
Unfortunately, she didn’t know whether any cars had come along while she’d been unconscious and it didn’t look as if there were going to be any more along this particular road today, in spite of the fact that it was still relatively early.
With snow falling this close to Christmas, perhaps the locals were wise enough to stay at home with their families where it was warm and safe.
All she had to keep her company were memories, and they weren’t going to be enough to keep her warm or get her out of there.
‘How ironic,’ she whispered. ‘To spend a year trying to disappear only to be found every time, and when I need someone to find me, there’s no one around.’
A solid kick landed on her ribs, as though to remind her of a certain person’s existence.
‘Apart from you, of course,’ she apologised, stroking the spot with gentle fingers. ‘But you’re not really in a position to help.’
In fact, the ungainly shape of her body was the reason why she hadn’t been able to reach the release for the safety belt; that and the fact that she didn’t dare move too much in case she sent the car tumbling into infinity.
The fact that she could see her surroundings a little better led her to crane her neck towards the back of the car. She’d flung the two small bags that had contained all her worldly goods for the past year into the back seat when she’d taken off this morning. If they were within reach, perhaps she’d be able to get an extra layer or two of clothing to drape over herself while she waited for someone to find her.
There was one bag nearby, unfortunately the one with the tiny items she’d lovingly stitched and knitted in preparation for her baby’s arrival.
‘Perhaps I could put a mitten on each finger,’ she mused with a watery chuckle, trying to fight off the first waves of real fear.
She knew that the rescue services always recommended staying with the vehicle rather than wandering off and getting lost, and she was wearing a thickly padded jacket, but that still left a large amount of her too poorly covered to preserve her body heat.
Over the space of a night, at these sorts of temperatures, she could soon be looking at the onset of hypothermia. And if the temperature dropped still further outside…
From her time on the neonatal ward, she knew only too well how critical temperature could be to tiny babies fighting for their lives. She had no idea what effect hypothermia had during pregnancy and was now praying fervently that she wouldn’t have to find out.
She pulled the collar of her jacket closer around her cheeks so that the warmth of her breath was deflected down inside her clothing then tucked each set of fingers inside the cuff of the opposite sleeve.
‘What if…?’ she mumbled into the cocooning layer, slipping into a favourite childhood game.
Whenever Robert Wainwright had been at his most abrasive and domineering, she’d retreated into her own private make-believe world.
One of her earliest memories was of telling her favourite doll that she was really a princess and one day her father and mother, who were king and queen of a beautiful kingdom far away, were going to come for her, and then they’d all live happily ever after.
The scenarios had changed over the years, probably influenced by whatever books she’d been reading at the time, but one theme had remained constant. Finding a way to escape the Wainwright sphere of influence.
How paradoxical it was that when she’d finally achieved her most enduring dream she should end up in such danger.
‘But that doesn’t mean that I can’t imagine my way out of it,’ she murmured, and set her imagination to work.
‘If only…’ Suddenly a pair of liquid silver eyes appeared in her mind’s eye and it felt as if a hand squeezed around her heart. That was almost too easy.
‘If only I hadn’t had to leave Dmitri like that,’ she whispered, feeling the hot press of tears behind her eyes. She closed them tight, refusing to give in to them. She knew she’d had no option when she’d seen that black car and recognised that all-too-familiar figure behind the wheel.
But in her game, Laurel could imagine that the car that had seemed to slow when it had passed the gateway a little time ago had been Dmitri’s car.
She’d even imagined earlier on today that she’d seen the metallic sapphire of Dmitri’s beloved sports car coming up beside her on the motorway, but by the time she’d looked again, all she’d been able to see had been nondescript saloons and high-sided lorries.
Anyway, there was no way it could have been Dmitri. It was so many months since she’d left him that he’d probably gone back to Russia by now and forgotten all about her.
But that couldn’t happen in her fantasy.
In her mind she could imagine the way he’d see the damaged wall beside the road and instantly recognise it as the place where she’d tumbled down the hillside.
She could almost see him phoning for assistance then scrambling over the wall to help her out of the car and swear his undying love…
She snorted as her fantasy took off into the realms of impossibility. The last few years had left her with too few illusions about real life to be able to immerse herself in her make-believe world the way she had as a child.
‘If only I hadn’t left, I probably wouldn’t even have been on that road at that time. I’d have been working on the ward and waiting to catch a glimpse of him…’
Another sharp jab in her ribs brought reality crashing through the fantasy.
Even if she’d been able to stay, she certainly wouldn’t have been at work today, not at this stage of her pregnancy. She did a quick mental calculation of the number of days until her due date.
‘Fifteen days to go, provided you arrive on time,’ she murmured with a sudden burst of excitement at the prospect. She couldn’t wait to hold her child in her arms for the first time.
Of course, the baby books all warned that first babies were notoriously slow to arrive, so she could still be waiting in a month’s time.
‘But only if I get out of here safely,’ she said with a shiver of dread. She couldn’t bear to think that, after all these months, she might never see the tiny being she’d been nurturing for so long.
‘It’s not going to happen like that,’ she said, trying to sound positive, but even with her mouth buried inside the collar of her jacket she could hear the quiver in her voice. She ignored it.
‘Any minute now, some kind person is going to catch sight of the damaged wall and is going to organise a rescue party. Then you and I will be taken to…Hey!’ A sudden thought struck her. ‘We’ll probably be taken to the hospital at Edenthwaite to be checked over. I don’t imagine there’s one closer than that and I already know there’s an accident and emergency department there.’
That information had been easy to find, unlike her sister’s whereabouts. She’d moved about so often that it had been like trying to nail jelly to a wall, trying to pin her down. Even when she was standing face to face with her she wouldn’t be certain that she’d found the right person. She hadn’t been able to find out whether they were identical twins or fraternal, so she didn’t even have the certainty that they’d look alike to go on.
‘But when they’re certain that you’re all right,’ she mumbled around a sudden jaw-cracking yawn, ‘then I’ll be able to ask if she’s on duty, and ask to see her, and…and then…’
She was vaguely aware that she’d begun to ramble but it didn’t really matter. The car was steadily getting colder and she was shivering hard enough to rattle her teeth, but her eyes were so heavy she just couldn’t keep them open any longer.
It had been such a stressful day that she was tired out. Perhaps when she woke up her brain would be clearer and she could work out a plan…find a way to get out…
CHAPTER THREE (#udf64abd9-cbf2-5746-9473-89d07599561d)
DMITRI raked his fingers through his hair as he waited for the call to be answered, marching impatiently up and down in the narrow space between the two beds in his hotel room. It felt as if he’d had the phone glued to his ear for hours.
‘Hello? Can you help me?’ he said, launching straight into his prepared speech. ‘I need to know whether you have a guest called Laurel Wright staying with you. She would have arrived earlier this afternoon by car.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t give out information about our guests,’ said a snippy voice on the other end, and he could have groaned aloud. He could understand people’s right to privacy but this was something different.
‘She wanted me to join her,’ he continued quickly, sticking to his improvised story and sure that the woman was going to cut the connection at any moment. ‘I didn’t think I’d be able to get away from work, but now that I have, I’ve discovered that I’ve lost the name of the place she’s staying.’
‘Hmm,’ she said dubiously. ‘That’s as may be, but we haven’t anyone of that name staying here, anyway. You said the name’s Wright?’
‘Yes. Laurel Wright,’ he confirmed eagerly, not allowing himself to think that she might have booked in under another name. How would he ever trace her then? This was a phenomenally popular tourist area with hundreds of hotels and guest-houses dotted about, right down to the smallest farmhouse bed-and-breakfast. The fact that it was close to Christmas, rather than the high season between Easter and autumn, meant that many places would be closed, but he wouldn’t know which until he asked each one individually.
‘She’s slim with long blonde hair and honeycoloured eyes,’ he added hopefully. ‘And she’s got the most beautiful smile.’
‘She sounds lovely,’ the woman said, her tone almost sympathetic now. ‘Unfortunately, she’s not booked in here. We’re not open for Christmas. Our next guests aren’t due until around Easter-time.’
Dmitri thanked her for her time and rang off, only then giving in to the urge to swear ripely in his native tongue.
‘This isn’t getting me anywhere,’ he said with a discouraged sigh. He wandered across to the window and gazed out into the brightly lit square.
There was a Christmas tree laden with coloured lights in the middle by some sort of monument and most of the buildings had decorations of some sort in their front windows. A few hardy souls were scurrying around with armfuls of shopping, their heads bowed to protect their faces against the whirling snow.
