Free Ship's Surgeon by Celine Conway Page B

me, has she ever had dreams before?”
    “I don’t think so, but I’ve sometimes thought she had a sort of extra-sensory perception.”
    “And you a dealer in the human body,” he scoffed. “The girl has a restless brain and not enough to think about. Look at the way she keeps harping on my taking a wife ... preferably you.”
    Pat bent her head and looked woodenly at the hem of his navy robe and the cream silk pyjamas below it. “Besides Mrs. Lai and the steward, you and I are the only people she sees. After the way you spoke to her about it, she’s not likely to mention it again.” She pushed a hand over tousled hair. “Is there any way to make her forget the nightmare?”
    “Heavy sleep will help, and I’ll give her a sedative for a few nights. Do you always fret about your patients’ setbacks?”
    “A little, but Deva is special. She’s gone through so much, and her people love her so much, and want her back. Sometimes I feel frighteningly responsible for her.”
    “That’s wrong,” he said, frowning. “You’re responsible only for the treatment. Mrs. Lai is her servant and companion, I’m temporarily her doctor, and you’re the technician. She’s carefully watched and looked after, and that’s all you need worry about. You understand?”
    “I’ll try to look at it that way.” She reached to put down her glass. “I can’t finish the whisky, I’m afraid. Do you mind?”
    “No. You’re not used to it, so too much of it might over-stimulate you—and that wouldn’t do, would it?” He sounded good-humouredly sarcastic, but Pat didn’t look at him to compare his expression with his tones. She got to her feet. “I do feel better now. Thanks for the medicine.”
    “In the glass, or otherwise?”
    “Both. You have a detergent action, Doctor, and it’s bracing.”
    “I don’t care for being labelled like something in a tin.” He looked at her more closely. “You’ve a slight bump just above your right eye. How come?”
    She touched it. “I must have touched it as I ran from my cabin. It’s nothing.”
    But Bill, the doctor, already had an ice-cold swab of cotton wool between his fingers. He dabbed and she shivered. He was very close, very male, and all at once she wanted nothing except to lean forward and let him take her weight. He wouldn’t have to hold her, or say a thing; only stand there like the big dependable man he was and let her rest against him for a while.
    What idiocy. How he’d laugh if he knew her thoughts! She looked up quickly with a bright new smile which froze as she met his glance. He did know her thoughts and he wasn’t amused. There were small angry flames in the steel-blue eyes, menace in the way he smiled. His hand moved over her slim shoulder, cupped itself about one side of her neck, quite tightly.
    “Emotional research?” he said with glacial calm. “Not at this hour or in this place, if you don’t mind. You’d better get back to your cabin.”
    She took a long quivering breath. “You can be pretty nasty, can’t you?” she said thinly. “For a moment I thought you were human, and I felt in need of comfort—nothing else.”
    His hand dropped. “You’d better have a pill,” he said, and found one for her. “Take it now.” He opened his cabin door, saw that the night steward was within call and beckoned him. “Miss Fenley was upset over that little business with Miss Wadia, but she’s recovered now. Take her to her cabin, will you?”
    All very circumspect, thought Pat wearily, as she made to leave the cabin. And then, without volition, she looked at the wall above the bedhead, the wall which had been hidden by the door when she came in. A photograph was fixed there, the head and shoulders of a laughing young woman with a provocative wilful mouth and bubbly, light-coloured hair. And across the corner was written, in a firm challenging hand, “Ever yours, darling. Bonnie.” Pat looked away quickly, was aware that Bill had seen her summing-up