Читать книгу Fool's Gold Collection Volume 3: Almost Summer / Summer Days / Summer Nights / All Summer Long - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Paige fingered the worn pages, studying the stamps. So many different countries, she thought. Some were from places she’d never even heard of.

“Going through my things?”

She looked up and saw that Alistair was awake again. He looked better than he had. More rested, with normal coloring.

Over the past couple of days, much of his rash had faded. He’d basically been eating and sleeping, the latter more than the former.

She held up his passport. “Of course. What else was I going to do to pass the time? You’ve been to very interesting places. I don’t suppose you’d tell me about them?”

“I’d love to, but on the condition that I get to eat.”

“Done.”

“At a table. Like a real person.”

She stood and looked down at him. “Seriously? You want to come downstairs?”

“Yes, but first I want to take a shower.”

“You are kind of stinky,” she agreed. “You also need a shave. I didn’t think viscounts were supposed to be scruffy.”

“Scruffy is our best look.”

It was a good look for him, she was willing to admit. The dark stubble contrasted with his blue eyes. The man had the bone structure of a god, and while he wasn’t the least bit smelly, it made her feel better to tease him. After all, he was titled, smart, well-educated and well-traveled and, hey, a gifted surgeon. While she was a small-town girl with many jobs but no career. Someone who had always planned to make something of her life, but so far hadn’t.

“A shower it is,” she said. “But be careful. I’m not in the mood to come rescue you, so if you fall you’ll just be lying there, naked and shivering.”

“An unattractive visual. I will be careful.”

She collected clean clothes for him and put out fresh towels, then waited while he stood. He was a little weak, but seemed to have rediscovered his balance. She hovered until he made it into the bathroom, then went downstairs to prepare lunch.

There were dozens of choices from all the food people had dropped off. In the end she decided on a spring vegetable soup with a second course of pesto and cheese ravioli. She cut up some fruit for dessert. Somehow, in the past couple of days, the cupcakes had mysteriously disappeared.

“Not my fault,” she said aloud. “I’ve had company.”

“Anyone I know?”

“A couple of my friends stopped by and—”

She turned and saw Alistair standing in the doorway to the small kitchen. He was showered and shaved, wearing a shirt and jeans. His feet were bare and he looked pale and thin, but still handsome. And as if he were going to fall over any second.

“Did you walk or slide down the stairs?” she asked, crossing to him.

“A little of both.”

She put her arm around his waist and led him through the kitchen and out the back door. She’d quickly set the table with place mats and napkins. Now she led Alistair over to a chair.

He sank onto the seat and smiled at her.

“Beautiful.”

For a second she found herself lost in his blue eyes. There was an odd sensation in her chest—like a fluttering that had her wondering if she could actually speak or only stammer.

“The yard,” she managed.

“That, too.”

Flustered, she smoothed the front of her shirt. “Let me, um, get you something to drink.”

She bolted for the kitchen and poured a glass of water and a sports drink. Before carrying them outside, she drew in a breath and told herself not to be an idiot. Yes, Alistair was a good-looking man who made her heart beat faster. But not only did she know absolutely nothing about him, he was only in town for a few days. She had to get a grip.

She carried out the drinks, then the soup. When she was seated across from him, he spoke.

“More offerings from chefs other than you?” he asked.

“You remembered.”

“I did. Although I am curious how long I was out this time.”

“Two days of impressive sleep. Did you notice—the rash is nearly gone?”

“I did notice. You’ve been very good to me.”

“I am a saint. Besides, it wasn’t so bad. You’re an interesting talker.”

He paused in the act of carrying a spoonful of soup to his mouth. “I was talking?”

“In your sleep? Yes.” She cleared her throat and went for what she hoped was a casual tone. “So, um, who is Sara?”

“My wife.”

Paige’s stomach sank to her toes and then went looking for lower ground. She felt herself flushing as she remembered all the silly, romantic thoughts she’d had about the man.

“So you’re—”

“A widower. Sara and our baby daughter were killed a few years ago. A car accident.” His eyes darkened, as if he’d emotionally retreated to a difficult memory. “It was horribly sad.”

“Of course. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. I was gone when it happened.” He looked at her across the table. “I’m sure Simon has mentioned that I work extensively overseas.”

“Yes. He told me you travel the world, operating on poor children.” Fixing the ravages of birth defects and accidents, giving those children a chance at looking just like everyone else. Something most people took for granted.

“Sara and I grew up together. We’re from the same village.”

“You have your own village?”

He smiled. “No. I lived in a village.” The smile faded. “She was always there, in the background. I suppose our getting married was inevitable. But she never wanted to stray far from home, so after we were married, she stayed put and I went off to work. When she had our daughter, the decision seemed sensible.”

“Then they were killed,” Paige murmured.

“Exactly. I was devastated. I buried myself in work even more than I had before. Apparently too much. I was trying to forget, I suppose. As that will never happen, I’ve been attempting to find peace. I ended up sick and intruding upon you.”

“You’re a nice intrusion.”

“Thank you.” He finished his soup and glanced around the yard. “This is charming.”

She looked at the tall trees, the flowers by the fence and the cut grass. “It’s your basic backyard. I like it. There was plenty of space to play when I was growing up.” She lowered her voice. “I had to make do with toys, what with not having a village of my own.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“A little. It’s fun.”

She collected their bowls and returned to the kitchen where she quickly warmed the pasta and spooned on the sauce. Then she carried the food outside.

“You have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” she said.

“I do?”

“Simon arranged it. He wants to confirm that you’re no longer contagious. Although I suspect he’ll want you to wait a couple more days before going to see them. What with Montana being pregnant and all and him being something of a worrier.”

He glanced at her. “I should move into a hotel.”

“No, you shouldn’t. You’re already here and I don’t mind. As I said before, you’re interesting company.”

“If I talk in my sleep, I must be a bit frightening.”

“Not so much. Tell me about some of the places you’ve been.”

“How much detail do you want?”

“As much as you’re willing to give. I’ve never been anywhere.”

“Most people ask about where I’ve traveled to and then their eyes glaze over when I answer.”

She laughed. “Mine won’t. I promise.” She scooted closer. “I’ve always wanted to travel. While I’m interested in the tourist sights, I’ve also always wanted the chance to really explore a place. Settle in for a few weeks and get to know the people.”

“You find other cultures interesting?”

“Of course. There’s so much I assume about the world because of how I was raised. Knowing in my head that everyone has a different life experience is one thing, but actually getting to talk to people, to see life through their eyes, so to speak, fascinates me.”

She drew in a breath and shrugged. “Sorry. I get carried away.”

“Not at all. Your passion is intriguing.”

She shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on the chair. “Tell me about Africa. No, India. What an amazing country. What is Mumbai like?”

“Crowded. Loud. The population is over twelve million, or twenty thousand people per square kilometer. There’s a large immigrant population, of course and a…” His voice trailed off. “Now I’m the one who was carried away. As you can see, I’m not good at casual conversation.”

“Keep talking,” she told him. “I’m interested.”

He studied her for a second, before nodding. “When I go there, I stay at an ashram. A friend of mine runs it. There is a kind of peace in the middle of everything else going on. He comes with me when I visit prospective patients. Parents and their children. His presence calms us all.”

Alistair talked of beautiful sunrises, of sacred cows and the Muslim call to prayers. He mentioned going to South America. A river trip down the Amazon, of glancing into his mirror while shaving one morning to find himself being watched by a jaguar. Of waking up and realizing he was sharing his bed with a python.

“I’m not sure I could keep from screaming,” Paige said.

“I did scream,” he admitted with a grin. “Like a little girl. I horrified nearly five centuries of ancestors. I felt them collectively turning over in their graves.”

They finished the pasta and she brought out fruit and coffee. As they lingered over the table, he talked about the patients he treated and the lives he changed. He showed her pictures on his phone. She saw smiling children with features restored. Happy families, grateful parents.

“Your work is a miracle,” she said, passing him back his phone.

“No. I was given a gift and I use it to help others. It’s nothing so complicated as a miracle.”

“It is to the people you help. Do you get lonely?”

“All the time. I work with a team, but the people on it changes frequently. Different doctors come and go. I tend to stay in a place for six to eight weeks, then move on.”

“Sounds like heaven.”

“It can be.”

“Sara never wanted to go with you?” she asked.

“No. She wanted to stay in her corner of home.”

“I would have been right beside you,” Paige said without thinking, then held up both hands. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not inviting myself along on your next trip.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

She laughed. “You’re very kind.”

“I’m not kind at all. You’re an intriguing woman, Paige. Opening your house to a stranger.”

“A stranger who talks in his sleep.” She studied him. “My aunt would have liked you.”

“High praise.”

“You can’t know that,” she said, but pleased by his statement even so.

“I can guess. You said she gave up everything to raise you.”

Paige smiled at the memory. “She was wonderful. She’d made the decision to become a nun early in life and was a novitiate by the time she was nineteen. After my parents died, she came to care for me, leaving her life as a nun. I still remember her telling me that we were going to learn to be a family together.”

Her smile faded a little. “As a five-year-old, I didn’t understand what a massive transition she must have gone through. She’d never held a job in the ‘regular’ world, although hers was a teaching order, so she was used to a classroom. Still, she had to figure out how to pay bills and manage a household while raising me.”

“Which she did,” he said.

Paige nodded. “With grace and love. Money wasn’t an issue. My parents had planned ahead. There was an insurance policy that paid off the mortgage and left enough to cover our basic needs. Aunt Sophia became a teacher here in town. She was special.”

She loved with all she had, Paige thought, missing the woman who had meant so much to her.

“I was lucky to have her,” she added. “Neither of my parents had any other family. Sophia and I took care of each other.”

As she spoke, she was aware of his blue gaze, steady on her face. And that his blinks were getting longer and slower.

“All right,” she said, coming to her feet. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Alistair’s expression went from sleepy attention to complete awareness in a matter of a heartbeat. For a second, she found herself being studied in a way that could only be called sexual. Tension filled the space between them. For the life of her, Paige wasn’t sure if she should throw herself into his arms or run screaming into the afternoon.

As it was bright and late spring, the latter seemed kind of silly. As to the former…it was an idea she could get used to, she thought.

“Because I was ill,” he said, as if to clarify.

“Right. You haven’t been out of bed this long in days. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m more tired than I would like to admit.” He rose. “First let me help you with the dishes.”

She laughed. “I can manage.”

“I’m actually very good at washing up.”

“Part of your viscount training?”

“Of course. We are required to take a washing-up course before our tenth birthday. By royal decree.”

She started for the back door. “You can show me your fancy skills tomorrow. Right now you need to rest or you’ll relapse. I don’t want to have to explain to Simon why his friend isn’t getting better.”

Alistair walked around the table. “All right, but tomorrow the dishes are on me.”

“I look forward to it.”

They walked toward the back door. Once they reached the door, he motioned for her to go first, then followed. He walked past her in the kitchen, his arm brushing hers. She was aware of heat and a voice whispering that handsome, charming men could be very dangerous to a woman’s heart.

He was just passing through. In a few days he would be gone and she would return to her regular routine. Better for both of them if she remembered that and didn’t try to make their time together more than it was.

Oh, but a girl could dream.