The Doctor's One Night to Remember

by Charlotte Hawkes

  ‘That was the team back at the hotel base. There’s a problem with one of the guests who took the Orchid and Butterfly House tour. They want you back immediately.’

  ‘Understood.’ Swinging around, she began to head back to the embarkation point for the gondolas heading back down to the low station.

  He caught her as she started to pass him, and it was harder than ever to pretend that the contact didn’t do anything to her.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Back down.’ She frowned at him.

  ‘Yes, but not that way.’ He turned her around to the zip wire. ‘We’ll go this way instead. It will be faster.’

  ‘Fine.’ She gritted her teeth, telling herself that the jolt that ran through her was solely about the ride. ‘Let’s go.’

  * * *

  They were just coming into the rainforest hotel when the call came through to say that the patient was fine after all. It had turned out that their broken ankle had healed remarkably fast once they’d been offered an upgrade.

  ‘A few weeks ago, I’d have been shocked,’ Isla commented as they slowed down to walk up the beautiful tropical-tree lined driveway.

  Sweat was trickling down her back, and her shirt felt heavy with moisture. The place was hot and humid enough, but they’d been practically jogging through dense forest to get back to the hotel.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Nikhil said dryly. ‘The first few days aboard, you had several new arrivals coming to your surgery crying about being claustrophobic?’

  ‘Only an upgrade to a cabin with a balcony would cure them.’ Isla nodded. ‘Yes. I truly didn’t believe people would do that.’

  His only answer was a grunt of disapproval. She supposed he’d got used to it after so many years, and so many cruises. What kind of a fool did it make her that she still, even now, longed to hear him tell her something more personal about himself?

  ‘There are many more nice passengers, though,’ she heard herself add.

  Beside her, he seemed to stalk up the drive, but he didn’t utter a word.

  ‘And there’s a lot to be said for waking up in a new place every morning. I mean, it’s a stunning way to get to see the world.’

  ‘Go in the back way,’ he gritted out suddenly. ‘Those lovely passengers you mentioned will descend on us the moment we walk through the door, and I’d like to at least get a shower and clean up first.’

  She didn’t dare to look at him. It seemed impossible, but even drenched in sweat he looked like a study in perfect masculinity. Perhaps more so. Moisture glistened on his skin, bronzed and healthy, making him look all the more like some billboard model. Only a more interesting, real version.

  Oh, she was in serious trouble.

  Following Nikhil as he skirted the main entrance to the hotel, an odd, short, instantly muffled sound made them stop simultaneously. For a protracted second, Isla struggled to work it out—and then her stomach turned. She set off at a run, but Nikhil was already ahead of her.

  Rounding the corner of a store house, they saw that a lad, tall and muscled, had a maid pinned to the grubby wooden framework and was tugging her skirt up, despite her futile attempts to push him off.

  Before Isla could say anything, Nikhil had placed both his hands on the young man’s shoulders and was hauling him off the sobbing girl and swinging him around.

  The girl began to scream, and Isla hurried to stop her. The last thing they needed now was for a load of hotel guests to come spilling out to see what was going on.

  Turning back to Nikhil and the attacker, she saw the punch coming as if in slow motion, but it was only at the last minute that she saw a glint of metal and then the blood as the lad slashed Nikhil’s shoulder.

  In an instant the expression on Nikhil’s face changed—a flash of a stricken expression, enough to make her blood run cold. It was gone in an instant, but even that fraction of a moment had been long enough to hurl images into Isla’s mind—the scars she’d seen on his body that night in Chile. In particular, the one on his shoulder—the one he’d told her had been an accident. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.

  But there was no time to dwell on that now. Her attention was pulled back to Nikhil, who had already reacted, landing a few smart punches to send the blade skittering. He’d swiftly got his opponent against the wall, despite the lad’s muscled form, his forearm to the lad’s throat to stop him from escaping.

  He growled to her, ‘Go inside and get a member of security. Be discreet. And take the girl with you.’

  She only hesitated for half a second. Then, wordlessly, she obeyed.

  However she’d anticipated this day going, it couldn’t have been like this. But that moment of barely controlled rage she’d seen on Nikhil’s face kept tugging at her thoughts. Years as a doctor had honed her intuition, and right now it was telling her that the knife had triggered something in him, if only for less than a minute.

  Her thoughts were still whirring, even as she escorted the trembling, sobbing maid in through the staff-only doors, soothing her as best she could in her broken Spanish.

  * * *

  ‘I need to clean the wound; it’s going to sting,’ Isla warned an hour or so later when, statements given, they were in his room, where she could tend to Nikhil without fear of any of the passengers seeing them.

  Judging by the laughter and music coming from the main ballroom as she and Nikhil had left the security office, the shore excursions staff were doing their usual sterling job of looking after the ship’s passengers.

  If they hadn’t been happy, no doubt Nikhil would have rushed to clean up and get back to the party, when what he really needed was for his wound to be dealt with—butterfly stitches at least—and a bit of rest. With the canopy tour done and the tour group content, however, neither of them should be needed until the return journey to ship after lunchtime the next day, unless there was a problem.

  Instead, the main problem was focusing on the task in hand when Nikhil was sitting in front of her, stripped to the waist, his chiselled body as mouth-watering as ever, and sending every inch of her body into a fever that had nothing to do with the soaring temperature outside.

  She really was woeful.

  ‘At least you’ve had all your tetanus shots, coming out here. Quite a barrage of injections, wasn’t it?’

  He grunted, but didn’t speak.

  ‘It will leave a scar,’ Isla heard herself say. ‘Though nothing like the one on your shoulder, of course.’

  And she didn’t know why she carried on—pushing that little bit harder.

  ‘Will you tell people that it’s the result of another accident?’

  She might as well have struck him herself. Perhaps that was what she’d intended her words to do. Either way, Nikhil stiffened where he sat, and the silence in the room grew heavier in an instant. All she could do was continue to clean the wound and wait.

  ‘I won’t tell people anything,’ he managed grimly at last. ‘No one else will see it.’

  She should stop talking. Now. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  ‘I saw it.’

  Something cracked through the quiet, like a thunderclap, though one glance at the window assured her the sun was still as sweltering out there as before.

  ‘Most women I sleep with are less distracted by any...blemishes—especially those that are perceived. Clearly, I was remiss if some inconsequential childhood scar is what you remember most from our night together. I shall be more...dedicated in future.’

  Isla swallowed, heat pouring straight down through her, right to the apex of her legs. Logically, she knew he didn’t mean in the future with her, and yet it hung there, unspoken, all the same. Her heart faltered and swelled.

  ‘What happened back in your past, Nikhil?’ She paused but he didn’t answer. Taking a steadying breath, she continued. ‘I saw your face when you first
caught a glimpse of that lad’s knife. Your expression...’

  ‘Leave it be, Isla.’ The dark warning in his tone couldn’t have been clearer.

  And yet she couldn’t seem to make her runaway mouth comply.

  ‘Was it Daksh? Is that why you and your brother no longer speak? Why you claim that one of you is irreproachable, whilst the other has been left with no morals? Which one of you is which, Nikhil? Or is that the point?’

  She waited for a moment, her agitation increasing as his jaw locked tighter. Angrier. ‘I need to know, Nikhil. My stepsister is allegedly with him. If he’s dangerous, then I want to know.’

  His head snapped around to hers instantaneously, his voice rolling through her like black fury.

  ‘Say that again?’

  ‘Leo—I told you about her—is supposedly with him.’

  ‘How?’ The word was like a whip, lashing against Isla’s skin. His gaze was boring into her, pinning her to the spot.

  ‘They met in Chile. The day after you and I...’ She tailed off awkwardly.

  A myriad expressions chased through Nikhil’s rich eyes and, to Isla’s chagrin, none of them seemed good. But the one she recognised most of all was fury—with her.

  ‘And you’ve known all this time?’

  ‘No.’ Isla shook her head. ‘I only found out last week—from my mother. Please, Nikhil. Leo means everything to me. If she’s in danger, then you have to tell me.’

  He glowered at her for another long moment and everything in her was sounding an alarm. And then, finally, he spoke—as though through gritted teeth.

  ‘Daksh was not the one who wielded that knife. Your stepsister is in no danger from him. At least, not physically.’

  Relief coursed through her, but she still had to understand.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? At least, not physically?’

  He looked as if he wasn’t going to answer again, and then he opened his mouth.

  ‘It means he would not physically hurt her. But he is no more capable of an emotional connection than I am. My brother is certainly not to be relied upon.’

  And there was no mistaking the bitter tone to Nikhil’s voice. But there was something else too. Something less easy to recognise.

  Isla nudged at it, as if with her toe.

  Hurt. That was what she thought she could see.

  Whatever had happened between Nikhil and his brother had left Nikhil bitter, and hurt. Yet surely there was no reason for her to find that as interesting as she did? There was no reason for her to cling onto it as though it was another rare find, another precious piece of the Nikhil puzzle.

  ‘So Leo isn’t at risk of any harm with Daksh?’

  ‘No,’ he bit out. ‘You need have no fear over her physical well-being.’

  ‘Well, she’s a big girl. In terms of her emotional well-being, she can look out for herself.’

  And Isla didn’t know if they were still talking about her stepsister.

  For another few moments they lapsed back into the same heavy silence. Nikhil’s face was set as she made her shaking fingers get back to their work of tending to the laceration on his arm.

  She wondered if the cuts on his heart—the deep wounds he pretended didn’t exist—could ever be treated as easily. But she didn’t dare push him further. She’d clearly already probed too much, and he’d made it perfectly clear that it wasn’t any of her business.

  As much as that stung, she needed to respect that. For her own sake as much as anything.

  Working quickly and efficiently, Isla finished tending to the wound, applying the strips and dressing it so that it didn’t risk opening up under the white shirt of his uniform. Finally, satisfied it was done, she stepped back.

  ‘Okay, you’re all clear.’

  It was harder than it should have been to sound cheerful. And harder still when he stood and turned to face her.

  She fought to keep her eyes from travelling down from his chin.

  ‘And thank you for telling me about Daksh. You...didn’t have to, but I am grateful.’

  He watched her wordlessly until she found herself shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  ‘Nikhil...’

  ‘You’re concerned for someone you care about.’ He spoke suddenly. ‘You shouldn’t feel the need to apologise for that. It must be...nice.’

  It was a closed statement. He certainly wasn’t inviting a response. Yet, even though the voice in her head was screaming at her to bite her tongue, Isla couldn’t help herself from responding.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t have someone like that either?’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘What about your brother? Are you so sure he doesn’t care?’

  ‘He does not.’

  ‘So why was he there, in Chile?’

  ‘Careful.’ Nikhil’s eyes glittered, but she couldn’t be careful. She needed to know.

  Or maybe she needed him to know. To face up to whatever ghosts seemed to haunt him.

  ‘Are you going to claim it was pure coincidence that he was there when you were, Nikhil?’

  ‘Perhaps it was.’

  He looked furious. Again. But, whether he liked what she had to say or not, he was still answering her. That had to stand for something. She couldn’t stop now.

  ‘On your birthday?’ she countered. ‘I think not. I think he cares more than you are willing to admit.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’

  ‘Maybe I am,’ she acknowledged, ‘because how would I know? You said you’d “lost” him a long time ago but you made it sound like he had died. And don’t pretend it was my interpretation, because we both know the truth. So, whatever happened between you, the fact is that he was there in Chile, on your birthday, waiting to see you. So is it at all possible, if you stop being defensive and just think for a moment, that maybe I’m seeing something you aren’t?’

  Isla had no idea how, or why, she had the courage to argue with him. It was as though that moment—that expression when he’d first seen the knife—had been her first glimpse of Nikhil. A flash of the real man who lay behind that front he so artfully presented to the world.

  And now she’d seen that brief glimpse she couldn’t let it go. She wanted more of it. More of him.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ he growled.

  ‘I’m sure that’s true.’ It was incredible how her voice sounded so even, betraying none of the churning, swirling emotions she felt inside.

  Not even a tremor.

  ‘You push and push, Isla.’ He spoke so quietly then, it was almost dangerous. ‘What is it that you hope to gain?’

  And even though her skin goosebumped in response, even though her heart suddenly accelerated and galloped, thundering as loudly and as heavily as hoofbeats, she held her ground.

  Surely it should terrify her that it mattered so much to her?’

  ‘I want to understand you better, Nikhil.’

  ‘Why?’ he demanded, his voice harsh, uncompromising.

  And still it didn’t deter her.

  She tilted her head to one side, her stomach feeling as though it had crept up her windpipe and was now lodged somewhere in her throat. She would never know how she managed to sound so calm.

  ‘Why not? Tell me, Nikhil, or so help me, I’ll walk out of that door.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HE SHOULD LET her go, of course. It would solve all of his problems.

  Except for the biggest one of all, that was. Namely, that he couldn’t bear the thought of her actually leaving. What was it about this woman that got under his skin? There she was, creeping around his head—no, striding around it—and kicking open doors he’d long thought locked and barred.

  Even now she stared at him, her head cocked as though she had every right to ask the questions she was asking.

/>   The worrying part was that, as much as he resented the intrusion, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from her. As though a part of him wanted to hear what she had to say. Worse, as though a part of him wanted to answer those questions that were falling from her lips.

  So why not? What better way to show her the monster that you are?

  The voice was almost insidious, and even as Nikhil tried to silence it, he couldn’t. It taunted him, telling him that if she knew the truth about him then she’d surely run as fast and as far as she could in the opposite direction.

  And wasn’t that what he claimed to want?

  ‘Fine.’ He gritted his teeth at last. ‘You want to know me, then don’t say that I didn’t warn you.’

  But, instead of looking apprehensive, as he’d expected, she cast him an almost scornful look.

  ‘Is this you playing the role of Big Bad Nikhil? Only I have to tell you I’ve seen it before, and it doesn’t convince me.’

  ‘It should.’ He resisted the urge to step closer to her. Barely. ‘But if you really need more convincing, then allow me to indulge you.’

  With a supreme effort he made himself step back. Away.

  ‘The day Daksh was in Chile, he was there to see me. Though the fact that it was my birthday is almost certainly pure coincidence. Either way, it would have been the first time we’d seen each other since I was fifteen. Since the day of our father’s funeral.’

  Almost two decades later—it still rankled. More than rankled, if he were to be honest. Good thing he’d learned to be so adept at lying to himself, then.

  ‘What did he want?’ Isla asked, when he didn’t continue.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘Neither do I care.’

  ‘I think that’s a lie.’

  Her voice was soft, so soft that it almost felt like a caress, and yet it was almost his undoing that she seemed to read him as easily as she did.

  ‘That I know, or that I care?’ he demanded, more to buy himself time than anything else.