by Risk, Mona
“I brought it with me. Brigitte, may we have a glass of water?”
The young mother scurried to the kitchen and came back with the required glass. Ariane took her pill without fuss and asked to go to bed. Yves scooped her up in his arms and walked toward the bedroom.
Mesmerized, Mary-Beth relished the new side of Yves—a tender Yves who had worried about her to the point of losing his calm, and now gently cuddled a little girl. Her heart gave a jolt and heat surged up her neck. She followed behind Brigitte to the bedroom.
“Bonne nuit, ma petite poupée. Good night, my little doll,” Yves said with a soft voice as he bent and kissed Ariane’s forehead.
Gnawing on her lip, Mary-Beth beheld the rare image of Yves as a loving father cooing to his child. So far Yves had been a model for charm and suave seduction. Had he ever thought he’d make a wonderful daddy?
A new angst uncoiled in her chest. Had she been harshly judging him as a cold, insensitive heartbreaker?
“Brigitte, I will take Dr. Drake home now. If Ariane is not better in a few hours, call me.”
“Can I call Mary-Beth? My daughter loves her.”
Mary-Beth’s skin prickled as his questioning gaze rested on her. “Of course, you can call Dr. Mary-Beth. And she will contact me. Agreed Dr. Drake?”
“If you insist.” Mary-Beth shrugged and collected her backpack. “Good night, Brigitte.”
They left Brigitte’s house and Yves led her to the road lit by a few old lanterns supported by rusted poles. “You know you can really be infuriating when you set your mind to it.”
She chuckled and abstained from goading him. He’d been worried enough about her.
“Thank you for taking such good care of Ariane.” He touched Mary-Beth’s arm, a simple touch that generated tingles in her belly. “You are so dedicated to your patients. They are lucky to have you.”
Her boss’s praise was music to her ears. “Thank you.”
“I heard both Brigitte and Sophie call you by your first name. You have built a special relationship with them based on friendship and respect.”
Gosh, she wanted to hug him for the reassurance he gave her after almost yelling at her earlier. “I did what I have been trained to do. Help a patient in time of crisis. You would have done the same if Brigitte had called you.”
“Yes, of course. I would have answered her call right away. But jogging alone at night in the fallow fields beyond the chateau’s land is a no-no.” His gaze softened and caressed her face. “Have you ever done this in Boston?”
“In Boston? Are you kidding? Except for Harvard square and the university grounds that are always lit and crowded, I wouldn’t venture out alone at night. I see your point. I’m sorry you had to worry about me.”
Really sorry, and inexplicably happy. Not that it affected her decision to be careful around him and keep her emotions safely in check.
“Don’t mention it. Next time call me or Hubert or one of the residents. We will come with you. Or take a car.”
“I thought Marancourt was a safe place.”
“It is, usually. Remember the shotgun wound Carlos operated on. Until the murderer is apprehended, I don’t want you to take unnecessary risks.” A strange fire gleamed in his eyes, before he quickly turned his head. “I feel responsible for you. I wouldn’t want any harm coming to the residents in my exchange program.”
Responsible? Mary-Beth’s smile faded.
So, that explained his sudden concern. “I understand perfectly well,” she said in a crisp tone.
To think that for a moment she basked in his compliment and believed he’d worried about her in particular. No, sir. She’d better stop seeing nonexistent emotions in Yves’s mind-boggling smile. Just a cold, calculating reasoning. If she got into trouble, it might affect his program. When it came to rationality, he could give a hand to Steve.
“Can you walk a little faster?” Mary-Beth accelerated her pace, stomping the ground with rising frustration. “If there is danger we shouldn’t linger in the fields. Besides I’m eager to go back to bed.” She took off at a jog, only to hear him gasp and catch up with her.
His laughter rang in the night as he adjusted to her speed. “All this energy, to jump in bed and sleep.”
She blushed to the roots of her hair. It was good that he showed his true nature again. She wouldn’t have to fight the annoying warmth that fuzzed her mind when he came too close.
An hour later, she cursed. He must have jinxed her because she tossed in her bed, unable to sleep. His last sentence echoing in her ears, she hugged her pillow and sighed. How would it feel to have him with her now and spend her pent-up energy in a more pleasant distraction?
Their one night together played in her mind like a forbidden video. The scenes scrolled behind her shut eyelids. His arms around her waist, his hand massaging her neck, his fingers fondling her… Stop it. Are you crazy?
She was so hot, perspiring, her breathing labored. Even her panties were drenched. Blame it on the sweltering July weather. An absolute calamity. The chateau overflowed with elegance but lacked adequate air conditioning. The heat was responsible for her restlessness and the incongruous fantasy that assailed her now. She yanked off her long nightgown and replaced it with a short linen one. The cooler material and shoulder straps slithered down her overheated flesh.
The one night she wasn’t on call and would benefit from a good rest, she couldn’t sleep. She’d bet her meager monthly salary that Yves was sound asleep right now. No wonder he looked so fresh early in the morning.
Why couldn’t Brigitte or Sophie or the hospital call her with an emergency, and give her a good reason to escape her bed and dissipate her troublesome energy?
A chat with Steve would erase her nervousness. She reached for her cell phone. It was midnight, six in the evening in Boston. Steve should answer right away, but his line rang a few times, and then his voice mail asked her to leave a message. Why wasn’t he available when she needed to talk to him? Exasperated, she slammed her phone shut.
Two hours later she was still awake, tossing and punching her pillow. She’d never used sleeping pills. A glass of milk would certainly help. No need to waste time. A glass, or better two glasses of milk would ensure a good night of sleep. She covered her nightie with a silk robe, and dabbed her forehead and face with a towel. Damn the scorching heat. The robe only made her hotter. She tore it off and stepped into the hallway, confident no one else was awake in the chateau.
The hallway nightlights illuminated her path. She tiptoed down the stairs, cursing the old wood for creaking, and exhaled in relief when she reached the kitchen without hindrance. She opened the fridge and poured herself a mug of milk.
“I think a glass of wine would be a better remedy for insomnia.”
“Aahh.” Mary-Beth jolted back, sloshing half her milk on the floor.
Yves switched on the kitchen lights.
She swallowed and stared at his bare torso and thighs.
“Sacrebleu.” His Adam’s apple jerked up and down as his gaze skimmed her naked shoulders and legs.
“Huh…I’m sorry.” She pulled a sheet from the roll of paper towels and bent to mop up the floor. And realized she’d given him a full view of her backside in bikini briefs. Throwing him a suspicious look, she crouched to finish her task and found herself at eye level with the tent in his shorts.
Double damn. He was as aroused as she was. She closed her eyes and pressed a shaking hand to her heart. It was beating so hard it hurt. Hyperventilation. She stood up, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
“You’re sure you don’t want any wine?” He uncorked a bottle of Merlot and poured himself a glass.
No kidding. Did he expect her to sit and chit-chat and admire his pecs…and abs…not to mention his absolutely gorgeous thighs. Oh dear, she was staring again. She averted her eyes from his attributes, held her glass of milk with both hands, and turned to leave. “Goodnight.”
“Please, stay, Mary-Beth. We are both inso
mniacs tonight. Have a seat and let’s talk while we drink our sleeping potions.” He settled at the kitchen table with a wholesome smile and pulled out a chair for her.
Rooted in place, she zeroed in on his chest, blinked, and lowered her eyes to her glass of milk. “Talk?” She had trouble focusing on anything but his mass of naked muscles. “Uh… Ariane must be doing better since Brigitte didn’t call. Sophie will be discharged tomorrow. Bernard’s arthritis is improving,” she recited with a tremendous effort to clear her mind. “And the patients we operated on today—”
“Enough hospital talk. Tell me about yourself. I want to know you better.” His eyes fixed on her décolletage.
Yeah, sure. She straightened her shoulders. The damn strap slid down her arm. Well, she’d better move her leaden limbs and escape from the kitchen before he came up with more dynamic ideas about getting to know her better.
“I’m a medical resident from Harvard. I’ll marry as soon as I return to Boston, and there’s nothing more to tell. Good night, Dr. Malroux.” She turned her back and shuffled toward the hallway, careful not to spill more milk with a sudden movement.
“Fine. I will tell you about myself.”
“No, thanks,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m not interested in hearing erotic stories about your string of girlfriends.”
“My what?”
Oh God, she’d lost her mind. Her breath lodged in her throat as she spun to stare at him.
“Uh… no… nothing,” she stuttered, her gaze focused on his patrician nose and sensual mouth. She gulped her milk while his green eyes studied her with shocked curiosity.
How could she have blurted out such a crazy thing? Why did she care about Yves’s girlfriends when she was engaged to another man, and not interested in Yves and in any serious relationships with him, for that matter?
Serious? Yves had never used the word to describe any relationship. She should learn from his example. No entanglement was his motto. Enjoy life, and to hell with the rest.
“Mary-Beth.” Yves’s voice reached her like a tender caress. His arms and his open palm beckoned and tempted.
“Yes?” Yes, her heart and body screamed together. “No,” her disciplined mind chastised. “No,” she repeated loudly.
“Why do you want to marry the old doctor?”
“Oh, God.” She dashed up the stairs as if the devil was on her heels and locked her door the second she entered her room. Sprawled on her bed, she hugged her pillow against her hammering heart.
Why was she marrying Steve? The spontaneous because I love him and he loves me didn’t pass her lips.
Why? Why? She punched her mattress with each question.
Because the loneliness of her twenties still stung and she couldn’t cope with abandonment again. Because Steve was reliable, in control, and stable.
Were those answers good reasons to tie herself to a man for the rest of her life? With Steve ten thousand miles away, she was so lonely again.
She needed friends, many friends. Jennifer was on call today and probably at the hospital now. Mary-Beth dialed her cell phone. “It’s Mary-Beth. Am I disturbing you?”
“Not at all. I just finished my round. I’m in the residents’ room. Glad you called. How come you’re not asleep?”
“I’m too nervous.”
“Go drink a cup of milk in the kitchen. It helps usually.”
Mary-Beth harrumphed. “The cup of milk didn’t help this time. It made matters worse.”
Jennifer’s chuckle chimed down the line. “What happened?”
“Dr. Malroux was in the kitchen, too, having a glass of wine.”
“And you had a chat?” The resident’s tone sounded so interested.
“He wanted to chat. Imagine, I was in my nightie and he wore nothing but his shorts.”
“I bet he was gorgeous. Dang, I missed that.” A giggle reached her.
“Oh, he looked good all right. Way too good.” Guilt and lust twisted her insides and she sighed.
“Sweetie, relax. Just because you’re engaged doesn’t mean that you can’t look.”
“Do you look? I mean—”
“Of course I look, if only to compare and reassure myself that I got la crème de la crème with my Greg.”
“Oh. I’m not marrying Steve because of his abs and his pecs. I’m marrying him because he’s a reliable—”
“I know, reliable, calm, composed, faithful, etcetera. I got it. You said it so many times you convinced me. Did you convince yourself?” Her friend’s laugh grated on her ears.
“Jennifer, stop it.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Silence hovered for a moment. “Mary-Beth, how did Dr. Malroux react when he saw you in your nightie?”
She couldn’t suppress a gasp and was relieved Jennifer was tucked at the hospital and couldn’t see her blush. “How should I know?”
“He didn’t try to…to flirt a little bit?”
“Nope.”
“So his reputation of playboy is really overrated.”
“Maybe. Anyway, thanks for the chat. I’ll try to sleep now. Good night, Jennifer.”
Flirting with Yves? The idea was simply ludicrous. She could flirt with Roberto or Carlos, but never with Yves because…because Yves had been Yves, mon amour.
Good God, she couldn’t crave his kisses. She was engaged to Steve.
CHAPTER TEN
A week later, Mary-Beth was too exhausted to remember anything but work. They had faced an unusually high number of surgeries at the hospital. The situation was even worse at the clinic, with a local epidemic of intestinal flu. Mary-Beth hadn’t had the time to jog, or check on little Ariane or Sophie. Since she hadn’t heard from them she assumed they were doing well.
As she tidied the clinic before leaving for the night, she heard the roar of an engine followed by banging on the door. “Come in. It’s open,” she called and rushed to the reception area. Hubert walked in, a hand clutched to his chest.
“Where is Monsieur le Comte?” he asked in a groan, his shallow breathing louder than the words.
“Oh, my God, Hubert. Sit down. Are you having pain here?” She pointed to his heart.
He gasped for breath. “Monsieur…”
“Dr. Malroux isn’t here right now. Let me call an ambulance.”
“My Jeep is out…short cut, a path through the field…faster than ambulance,” he panted.
“You may be right. I’ll get you something to help you, and then I’ll rush you to the hospital.” She dashed to one of the consultation rooms, grabbed two vials, and poured a glass of water. “Swallow this aspirin, please. Good. Now, put this nitroglycerine under your tongue.”
“I want Monsieur…”
“I’ll take you to him right away.” She helped Hubert to the door and walked him to the Jeep. With the rugged vehicle, she knew she could negotiate her way through any terrain. “Lie down in the back. I’ll drive.”
Not giving him the chance to protest, she helped him into the back seat and jumped behind the wheel. She cut through the fallow fields, took sharp bends, and raced to the hospital in less than ten minutes.
At the ER, Hubert was rushed to an examination room. A trio of nurses swarmed around the old butler, gave him oxygen, took his vitals, inserted an IV drip in his arm, and drew several syringes of blood.
Mary-Beth requested an ECG, X-ray of the chest, and blood tests. “I suspect a heart attack,” she remarked to the cardiologist as soon as he arrived. “We took an initial ECG. It’s not normal. We’ll have another soon.”
The heart specialist studied the serial ECG tracings. “You said he’s the chateau’s butler. He hadn’t seen a doctor for many years. I’ll proceed right away with a catherization. Dr. Malroux is busy in surgery, so I’ll let you explain to Hubert what we will do. Do you want to assist?”
“Yes, please.”
“Go scrub. I’ll see you in the cath lab.”
A moment later, Mary-Beth bent over her patient wh
o had closed his eyes and now breathed through oxygen connectors. “Hubert, can you hear me?”
He opened his eyes.
“We’re doing a procedure to check your arteries. If there is a blockage in one of the arteries, Dr. Julien will immediately enlarge it. You’ll be awake but you won’t feel any pain. Do you follow what I’m saying?”
He blinked several times. A shadow of fear twitched the corner of his eyes. “Please, doctor…” She had trouble hearing him.
“Don’t worry.” She held his bony fingers and squeezed them gently. “I’ll stay with you. Dr. Malroux will come as soon as he’s out of surgery.” She walked beside the stretcher as two nurses wheeled Hubert to the dimly lit cath lab, moved him to a table and started prepping him for the procedure.
“Hubert, if you look up, you’ll see a large camera and several TV monitors.” Hoping to lift his spirits, Mary-Beth pointed to the instrument that the nurse anesthetist rolled next to the gurney. “You can watch the pictures of your cardiac catherization.”
“I will see my heart? Interesting.” He smiled and began to relax after the nurse gave him a mild sedative.
“Keep your arms and hands down at your side,” Dr. Julien said, while the nurse placed the electrodes of an ECG on his chest to monitor the heart activity. “Dr. Drake, we will do a brachial approach. You may start.” Mary-Beth injected a local anesthetic in Hubert’s arm and made a small incision over the blood vessel. “Do you feel any pain?”
“Non.”
“Very good.” Dr. Julien inserted the catheter in place and injected a contrast material to outline the vessels and heart valves and chambers. “Feeling hot, Hubert?”
“Oui.”
“Hubert, what happened to you?” Yves walked straight to the table, in sterile gown, cap and mask.
“Ah Monsieur le Comte, you are here. Now I can relax.”
“Any pain?” Dr. Julien asked.
“Non.”
After the procedure, Dr. Julien and Yves joined Mary-Beth to study the X-ray photos.
“Mon Dieu, he has a coronary blockage and I never suspected anything.” A mask of anxiety twisted Yves’s face.
“It’s only one blockage. He’s lucky he won’t need a by-pass. I will immediately do a coronary stent.”