Read Online A Dangerous Game by Lucinda Carrington - Free Book Online
Authors: Lucinda Carrington
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abruptly.
"Come to Room Six. Now." The last word was an order issued in a tone
of voice that was guaranteed to infuriate her. Before she could
respond, the phone went dead. She hesitated for a moment, then stood
up. This was obviously one of the patients Peter had been planning to
see. She was tempted not to answer the abrupt telephone request but
there was some thing about the voice that made her want to go and see
who this man was, and put him in his place.
With her temper almost under control, she stalked down the corridor.
She knew that Room Six was a small consulting room in the general
accident wing. But the man on the phone did not sound as if he was
suffering from anything other than a severe lack of good manners.
When she opened the door she saw her prospective patient standing by
the window, looking out. He turned when she entered, smiled
charmingly, walked towards her and held out his hand.
"Dr. Muldaire?
I'm Nicolas Schlemann. I'm delighted to meet you at last."
Jacey wasn't often lost for words but this tall, dark figure in his
immaculate suit effectively managed to both silence and disorient
her.
She shook hands without thinking. His grip was warm and firm. His
dark brown eyes surveyed her.
"I'm afraid I was rather abrupt on the telephone," he said.
His German patrimony could be seen in his narrow face, and his features
were attractively angular. His Spanish mother had given him a natural
tan and his glossy, straight black hair was beautifully cut, with
sideburns just long enough to be discreetly fashionable and a fringe
irregular enough to look rakish, without being untidy.
She realised that she was still holding his hand. Annoyed with
herself, she pulled away from him and stepped backwards.
"Yes," she said.
"You were rather impolite."
"I am in rather a hurry." He began to take off his jacket.
"I have a meeting with Generalissimo Hernandez." He was unbuttoning
his shirt now and she realised that he had a bandage strapped round his
ribs.
She also noted that he had the body of an athlete, and moved with the
grace of a dancer. His hand touched the bandage.
"This is becoming irritating. Surely I can dispense with it now?"
"What happened?" she asked.
"I fell off my horse," he explained. Again that charming smile.
"My fault entirely. I was pushing him too hard. I broke two ribs."
"Sit down," she said. She unwrapped the bandage and pressed his ribs
gently.
"Does that hurt?"
He winced slightly.
"No," he said.
"Senor Schlemann," she said, "I don't believe you."
"It's doesn't hurt much," he qualified.
"And the bandage is damned uncomfortable."
He flexed his arms and shoulders and she saw his muscles move
sinuously. She was reminded of a cat preening, a cat which was well
aware of the effect it was having on her.
What effect? she thought, almost guiltily. This is the man I was
certain I was going to dislike. A womanising crook. Am I really
attracted to him? Yes, she thought, just a little, but only
physically. It's a purely biological reaction. He's an
agreeable-looking man. What a pity his character doesn't match his
body.
"Please keep still," she said. She inspected his ribs. His skin felt
warm and smooth under her fingers. She prodded him a little harder
than necessary but this time he hardly reacted at all. She stepped
back.
"You seem to have healed very well." She kept her voice neutral.
"You can throw the bandage away. You don't need it."
"Thank you." He stood up gracefully, reached for his shirt, shrugged
it back on, and buttoned it. She was certain he made the actions take
longer than necessary. He unzipped the top of his trousers and tucked
his shirt in, hesitating just long enough, she felt
"Come to Room Six. Now." The last word was an order issued in a tone
of voice that was guaranteed to infuriate her. Before she could
respond, the phone went dead. She hesitated for a moment, then stood
up. This was obviously one of the patients Peter had been planning to
see. She was tempted not to answer the abrupt telephone request but
there was some thing about the voice that made her want to go and see
who this man was, and put him in his place.
With her temper almost under control, she stalked down the corridor.
She knew that Room Six was a small consulting room in the general
accident wing. But the man on the phone did not sound as if he was
suffering from anything other than a severe lack of good manners.
When she opened the door she saw her prospective patient standing by
the window, looking out. He turned when she entered, smiled
charmingly, walked towards her and held out his hand.
"Dr. Muldaire?
I'm Nicolas Schlemann. I'm delighted to meet you at last."
Jacey wasn't often lost for words but this tall, dark figure in his
immaculate suit effectively managed to both silence and disorient
her.
She shook hands without thinking. His grip was warm and firm. His
dark brown eyes surveyed her.
"I'm afraid I was rather abrupt on the telephone," he said.
His German patrimony could be seen in his narrow face, and his features
were attractively angular. His Spanish mother had given him a natural
tan and his glossy, straight black hair was beautifully cut, with
sideburns just long enough to be discreetly fashionable and a fringe
irregular enough to look rakish, without being untidy.
She realised that she was still holding his hand. Annoyed with
herself, she pulled away from him and stepped backwards.
"Yes," she said.
"You were rather impolite."
"I am in rather a hurry." He began to take off his jacket.
"I have a meeting with Generalissimo Hernandez." He was unbuttoning
his shirt now and she realised that he had a bandage strapped round his
ribs.
She also noted that he had the body of an athlete, and moved with the
grace of a dancer. His hand touched the bandage.
"This is becoming irritating. Surely I can dispense with it now?"
"What happened?" she asked.
"I fell off my horse," he explained. Again that charming smile.
"My fault entirely. I was pushing him too hard. I broke two ribs."
"Sit down," she said. She unwrapped the bandage and pressed his ribs
gently.
"Does that hurt?"
He winced slightly.
"No," he said.
"Senor Schlemann," she said, "I don't believe you."
"It's doesn't hurt much," he qualified.
"And the bandage is damned uncomfortable."
He flexed his arms and shoulders and she saw his muscles move
sinuously. She was reminded of a cat preening, a cat which was well
aware of the effect it was having on her.
What effect? she thought, almost guiltily. This is the man I was
certain I was going to dislike. A womanising crook. Am I really
attracted to him? Yes, she thought, just a little, but only
physically. It's a purely biological reaction. He's an
agreeable-looking man. What a pity his character doesn't match his
body.
"Please keep still," she said. She inspected his ribs. His skin felt
warm and smooth under her fingers. She prodded him a little harder
than necessary but this time he hardly reacted at all. She stepped
back.
"You seem to have healed very well." She kept her voice neutral.
"You can throw the bandage away. You don't need it."
"Thank you." He stood up gracefully, reached for his shirt, shrugged
it back on, and buttoned it. She was certain he made the actions take
longer than necessary. He unzipped the top of his trousers and tucked
his shirt in, hesitating just long enough, she felt
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