Читать книгу A Spanish Christmas - Пенни Джордан, PENNY JORDAN - Страница 6

‘THERE, how do you feel now?’

‘Much better.’ Elena thanked Meg gratefully as she finished massaging her patient and smiled at her.

It was less than two hours since their arrival at the apartment, which had proved to be even more luxurious and elegant than Meg had expected.

The bedroom she had been shown to by Elena’s elderly housekeeper was more of a small suite than a mere room, complete with its own luxurious marble bathroom and a small sitting room as well, but Meg had been more concerned about her patient than the luxury of her new surroundings, insisting on making Elena comfortable before settling herself in.

The telephone beside the ornately luxurious bed rang just as Meg was slipping the covers back over Elena, and discreetly she left the room to allow Elena to speak to her caller in privacy whilst she made her way back to her suite.

She was, of course, fully familiar with the Spanish custom of eating late at night, but hunger pangs were now beginning to gnaw faintly at her tummy. It seemed a long time since she had eaten the delicious meal they had been served in the First Class cabin on the plane.

Presumably she would eat her meals in the kitchen with Elena’s housekeeper, Anna, whilst Elena herself either dined alone or with friends—or her godson … Meg’s heart gave a betraying thump. But, no, he would not be visiting whilst she was here, Meg reassured herself. Hadn’t Elena herself mentioned the fact that he and his family would be spending Christmas at his family estate in the country?

His family … Was he married? Her heart gave another sharp thump. Meg guessed that he must be in his early thirties and, although he had made no mention of a wife, a man with a background like his would surely want to have a son to continue the family line.

The intercom telephone on the table next to Meg rang, making her jump. When she answered it, she heard Elena’s voice excitedly asking her to come to her room.

When Meg got there, her patient was sitting up in bed, looking pink-cheeked and happy.

‘My telephone call was from Luisa, Christian’s mother. She has invited us both to spend the Christmas holiday with them. Christian must have told her how concerned I was that you would find it dull here on your own, with just me for company. Oh, I am so pleased. You will love Christian’s family, I promise you.’

Valiantly, Meg tried not to show her own consternation. The mere thought of seeing Christian again, never mind spending time in his home, was doing the most alarming things to her nervous system. But Meg knew there was no way she could refuse to go. Elena’s wound still needed careful cleaning and bandaging, and her surgeon had been insistent that she had to have proper nursing care for at least three weeks after her operation.

Meg had always taken her professional responsibility very seriously and there was no way she was going to stop doing so now, just because of a mere man.

A mere man? Christian? A delicate hint of pink colour tinged her skin as certain unassailable facts forced themselves in front of her.

Christian bore just about as much resemblance to being a ‘mere’ male as a medical student did to a senior consultant, which was to say that when it came to quantifying ‘maleness’ Christian was in a class of his own.

What was she doing, boosting the wretched man’s already far too high opinion of himself with her foolishly treacherous thoughts?

Anyone would think that she was in danger of finding him attractive—which she most certainly did not, she assured herself vigorously, as Elena started to plan what she was going to need to pack for their visit, suddenly becoming far more animated and happy than Meg had previously seen her.

‘This is all Christian’s doing. He really is the most thoughtful person. But then all the men in his family have been known for their benevolence to others. Christian’s uncle, the one he mentioned, was so affected by the plight of the street children in Buenos Aires that he set up and financed a special home for them and left money in his will for its continued maintenance. Christian’s family have had business links with South America for many generations, and now our government has requested his help when it comes to any kind of delicate negotiations.’

It was obvious to Meg just how much Elena admired her godson and how much she was looking forward to spending Christmas with his family. No doubt he was used to women doting on him. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to become one of his besotted admirers!

‘So, if you will wait here with the luggage, Meg, I shall take Tia Elena down to the car in her wheelchair and see her safely installed in it, whilst I send Esteban up to collect the luggage.’

‘Oh, but you will make sure that the apartment is securely locked up, won’t you, Christian.’ Elena intervened anxiously.

‘Of course,’ he told her.

Gritting her teeth, her hackles already rising in antagonistic response to the lordly mantle of control Christian had assumed since his arrival at the apartment ten minutes earlier, Meg tried not to notice how sexually male he looked wearing a pair of casual snug-fitting jeans and a soft cotton shirt, the top couple of buttons of which were unfastened.

Meg was forced to swallow hard against the taut feeling of female awareness threatening to sabotage her determination not to find him in the least bit attractive.

So why on earth was her tummy fluttering, just because as he’d turned towards her patient she had glimpsed the disturbingly male darkness of his body hair where his shirt lay open? And, even more disconcertingly, why was she having to control that upsurge of female wantonness that said so clearly and mortifyingly that it wanted to see more?

Naked male bodies were nothing new to her, as a nurse, so why should the thought of this particular male body turn her into a quivering, dithering mass of desire?

Meg had no idea. She was just relieved that Christian was finally wheeling Elena out of the apartment, leaving her to await the arrival of his chauffeur, Esteban.

The amount of luggage Elena deemed it necessary to take with her for a fortnight’s stay with friends for what she had told Meg would be a ‘family Christmas’ had reduced Meg to awed silence as she had watched Anna pack, reverently wrapping everything in layer after layer of tissue paper.

The addition of a large, old-fashioned leather jewellery case had been the final confirmation, if Meg had needed one, that the rich were indeed different.

Everything she needed for their two-week stay had taken less than half an hour to repack into her one single case and, indeed, she had spent longer packing her medical bag—not just with everything that she felt Elena would need, but with the basic medical essentials without which she never travelled.

Esteban arrived and then departed with Elena’s cases, whilst Meg waited in trepidation for Christian to return to release her to go down to the car with her own luggage, whilst he made sure the apartment was securely locked.

The apartment door opened and Christian strode in, giving Meg an inimical, sweeping glance.

‘You have everything?’ he asked her, the tone he used to her far more curt and abrasive than the soft affectionate one he used to his godmother, Meg noticed.

Simply nodding her head tersely, she bent to pick up her two cases, intending to make her way to the lift and then down to the waiting car, leaving him to lock the flat on his own.

She was wearing the clothes she had travelled to Spain in, but today she was carrying her jacket over her arm, deeming the soft cashmere sweater she was wearing warm enough for the car journey. Just to be on the safe side, she had also swathed a toning honey-coloured pashmina around herself.

As she leaned forward to pick up her cases, Christian stopped her, telling her, ‘I’ll carry those.’

It was on the tip of Meg’s tongue to remind him sharply that she was not a sixty-year-old invalid like his godmother, and was more than capable of carrying her own bags, but the truth was that her injured wrist and hand were feeling stiff and painful. She knew that she would have to carry each of her bags out into the hallway individually, and that her medical bag was particularly heavy.

Even so, her eyes smouldered with the feelings caution told her it would be unwise to voice and, for a moment, as their glances clashed, Meg could see in Christian’s an answering smoulder daring her to defy him, before it was banished to be replaced by a look of coolly thoughtful consideration.

In silence, he placed her bags outside the apartment door in the elegant hallway, then told her, ‘We’ll go down in the lift together, if you will just wait until I have secured the apartment.’

Only the fact that she was wary of trying to carry her medical bag prevented Meg from going down to the car on her own. Not that he kept her waiting long … She had barely had time to do more than chide herself for the way she was reacting to him when he was locking the outer door to the apartment and striding past her to summon the lift.

As Meg had already discovered for herself, the lift to the apartments was not exactly generously proportioned. It held Elena’s wheelchair with Elena in it and herself—just—which meant that it allowed two fully grown adults, especially if one of them was over six foot in height and with the breadth of shoulder surely more appropriate for a top-scoring polo player than a businessman, just about enough room, provided they did not mind sharing their own personal ‘space’.

Even with her two cases in the lift between them, Meg still discovered that her body felt that Christian was standing very intimately close. But that was still no excuse for it to start reacting as though it liked that proximity rather than objected to it.

Determinedly, Meg stared forward, her soft lips clamped tightly closed. There was no way she was going to allow Christian to guess how idiotically her body was behaving. But suddenly the lift jolted to a halt, throwing Meg off balance and into Christian and, of course, it was only natural that he should reach out to steady her. Field her was probably a more appropriate term, Meg recognised, the breath whooshing out of her lungs as she collided with the impressive hardness of his chest.