He turned toward PJ. "You'd like your daddy back, wouldn't you, my girl?" He patted PJ's head. "Can you bring her in? Don't you come down. I'll phone from the hall, if I may, and arrange her admittance. I'll tell them what to do and I'll be along to see her later on. I'll let myself out."
Kris packed an overnight bag for PJ, including some books and other things for her to do when she felt better. The little girl often surprised her with her calm acceptance of things, and with intelligence beyond her years. Kris carried her down to the car, making light of things, and trying hard to hide her own anxiety.
Dr. Grace had informed the staff well because they were expecting her at the Cottage Hospital, and a wheelchair sat waiting. PJ enjoyed that. Flushed now with pain coming in going in waves, they rushed PJ to her room.
Kris helped her to bed and unpacked.
"I'll take your temperature and set up your chart, young lady, then you must try and get some rest. Here's the bell if you need me. Afterward, you, Mrs. Castell," she said, briskly, "can go home and get some sleep. Come again in the morning after Dr. Grace has been here. If we need you we know where you are, but everything's going to be fine."
...x...
As Kris drove home, she steeled herself for the inevitable call she would have to make. Since the timing was too close to Raoul's first sorrow, she hated doing it. But if they did decide to operate, they wouldn't want to waste time. Besides, she knew his love for his daughter would bring him back to her bedside immediately.
She felt weary as she let herself into the house and decided to put off the moment by making a cup of coffee. When she could put it off no longer, she dialed the ship-to-shore number Luke had given her. She felt a twinge of pity for the angry, enigmatic man in Greece. He loved his little girl deeply, and it would upset him to know that she was in pain.
Her stomach tightened as she wondered if he was alone. In the privacy of the yacht, who knew what was happening? She felt a vicious jealousy toward Isabella -- the trip was ideal for her to try and snare the vulnerable, new bachelor into a commitment.
"Hold on," a pleasant voice told her. "He isn't in his cabin, but I'll try and find him."
She heard voices on the line, then, "Kris, what is it? Are you all right?" He always spoke with a pronounced accent when he was disturbed, and she sensed his present agitation.
"I'm fine, Raoul. It's PJ. I had to call Dr. Grace and he's put her into hospital in observation for appendicitis. He says it may be necessary to operate and he'll need your consent for the anesthetic. He says it sometimes goes away on its own, but I knew you would want to know as soon as possible."
There was a pause at the other end. "Stay with her, Kris." Softly he added, "I'll catch the first plane I can."
Oh, God! If you come alone, how can I stay with you in the house? Her mind raced and her own problems rushed in again.
After another call to the hospital to see if PJ was still stable, Kris fell into a fitful sleep. At six a.m., she showered and washed her hair and immediately felt better. There was no time to dry her thick mane, so she put it back into two plaits and pulled them across her head, one on top of the other, forming a twisted coronet that was both unusual and becoming. She surveyed herself critically in the mirror. The cool poised-looking person staring back at her gave no indication of the turmoil inside.
PJ was distressed when she arrived and Kris was glad that she had come early, despite the nurse's advice to wait until after Dr. Grace had been in.
The day passed slowly with nurses popping in and out, and Dr. Grace checking in on the hour. He looked progressively more worried, and at about five o'clock, he called Kris outside of the room.
"I can't wait much longer. This is obviously not going to calm down, and the sooner it is out the better. Have you heard anything from Raoul?" He looked enquiringly at Kris.
"No, nothing since I spoke to him last night. I'm sure he can't be too much longer. This is an emergency and I'm sure they can get him a flight as a priority."
"We can hold on a little longer, but I don't want to put the child through any more pain than is necessary."
Kris went back to the room and climbed onto the bed beside PJ. Leaning her back against the piled up pillows, she stretched out her long legs while the child curled up against her, laying her dark head on her breast. Holding her hot little body made Kris feel protective. It had been a long night and a worrying day, and it wasn't long before the two of them dozed off.
The man stood watching the pretty picture they made, bathed in the soft light from the bedside lamp, with tender warmth in his grey eyes. His gaze traveled over the sleeping figure of the lovely young woman. He had seen the promise of fire in her, but right now, she seemed innocent and vulnerable. His disgust at his unforgivable behaviour surged back, and he felt tired and depressed. He could never allow his passionate emotions toward Kris to take over again. No longer would he trust himself around her. The emotions she made him feel were terrifying, to say the least. From now on he would have to show more control.
His mask dropped back into place as Raoul stepped into the room.
The sound of his entry woke Kris, and her black-lashed eyes flew open. PJ stirred, moaned, and began to cry when she saw her dear father coming towards her. Kris scrambled off the bed so Raoul could hold his child close. His eyes held questions as they met hers over his daughter's head. She gave him a rueful smile and a thumbs down.
"I'll go and see if I can find Dr. Grace. He wanted to know the minute you arrived."
After he signed necessary papers, the old man took Raoul's arm. "Now, you take this young lady and give her something to eat. She has had nothing all day and I would rather you were all out of the way. There is nothing for you to do here. We'll phone you when the surgeon has her out of the theatre. Run along then, boy." He left the two of them facing each other stiffly.
"Leave your car here. I'll drive you back when it is over and we can take it from there."
Raoul's manner had a take-it-or-leave-it tone, and his expression became withdrawn and distant. Kris had the distinct impression he was forcing a harshness that he didn't truly feel, as if he were angry with himself. But this confused her only more. Why would he feel that way after what they had shared?
Kris had not given further thought as to whether he had flown alone, so it was a shock to see the lights on when they got to the house. She could hear a woman's hard laughter, and there was loud music playing. The lounge door hung open, and as she crossed the hall, she saw Isabella look up and say to unseen persons in the room, "The wanderers have returned."
She turned around to greet him. "Raoul, darling, you look ghastly. Have a drink, it will do you good. Oh, by the way, how is the patient? I can't stand hospitals." She swayed back and forth slightly while holding her drink. "I hope you haven't called him here on a wild goose chase, Kris. We were just beginning to relax and enjoy ourselves."
She waved her glass around at others in the room. "Meet Anna and Yola. We've all been on their father's yacht. It adds spice to life to do things impulsively, so we decided to keep Raoul company. We can enjoy ourselves here, too. I told them how you manage the place soooo efficiently, so it won't be any trouble for you. I see there is no one in the kitchen, so be a pet and fix a little something for us. We are starving and we're tired from the journey. You know me, I'm absolutely useless around this place."
Kris stared wide-eyed at the woman in amazement, all tiredness jolted out of her. She couldn't trust herself to speak. After an embarrassing silence, one of the girls spoke.
"I'm sure we can all help if you are too tired." Kris felt that the comment was to make amends for Isabella's harsh, selfish and unfeeling words.
Raoul's deep voice came from the doorway. When Kris looked at him, she saw contempt on his face. "I would hate to disrupt your party, Isabella, but I am sure you will manage something between the three of you. Kris will be going back to the hospital with me and hasn't the time to play your maid."
He stro
de across to the bar, his lean body taut as a spring. He looked across at Kris. "A cup of coffee and a sandwich is all I feel for, how about you?" He poured himself a drink. "Can I get you one? You look as though you could use it."
"No, thanks, coffee is fine for me. I'll get things on the go." She turned to walk out of the room and heard him say, "I'm going to have a quick shower, and then we'll be going. Isabella, there will be no need for you to wait up. I've no idea what time we'll be back."
The coffee had just percolated when Isabella leaned unsteadily against the door. With a false smile she said, "Darling, I'll take it to him. I've obviously upset him. Maybe he'll accept my apologies in his room...if you know what I mean." She ran her hand suggestively up her body then opened the top button of her blouse.
A feeling of revulsion swept through Kris. She had never seen Isabella this way. If she was getting desperate to seduce him, she certainly couldn't have chosen a worse time.
Knowing with a certainty the outcome of her seduction, Kris wordlessly thrust the tray into those manicured hands and turned back to pour herself a cup of coffee to take upstairs while she freshened up. She felt it in her bones that this would be another long and difficult night.
As she reached the top of the stairs she heard a stream of Portuguese invective and a furious slamming of a door. Then da Costa stepped into the hall. She caught sight of Kris on the landing above, and with eyes glinting dangerously she hissed, "Things were going just fine until you came on the scene. I sure as hell will get them that way again."
Kris lay on her bed in the darkened room; her head ached and she felt miserable. She had troubles enough of her own without adding in Isabella's. After a while, she changed her clothes, put on fresh makeup and went downstairs. She, too, had come to some decisions of her own.
With her head held high, she went into the lounge, looked Isabella straight in the eye and said, "Would you be so kind as to tell Raoul that I'm ready whenever he is."
With a muttered curse, she slammed her drink onto the table and stood up. "I'm damned if I see why you have to go back to the hospital. After all, Raoul is the kid's father, and you are just...an employee."
Coldly, Kris stood her ground. "Call Raoul for me, please; it is obviously your prerogative."
For what seemed like ages, the room was quiet as the two faced each other. They made a striking contrast: Kris casually dressed, looked totally in control of herself while Isabella's ultra chic attire seemed out of place. Her anger gave her face a puffy over-painted look.
Suddenly, she smiled, looking past Kris' shoulder. "Darling, I was about to call you..." she said, slurring. "I think I should go with you, I really do."
Raoul gave her a withering look, turned on his heel and curtly said to Kris, "Let's go."
The big car roared into life, and without a word they drove to the hospital, both deep in their own thoughts.
"Ah, Mr. Metier, your daughter is still in the theatre. I'm sure it won't be much longer. She may even be in recovery; I'll check for you. Would you like to stay, or do you want us to call you at home when she is back in her bed?"
"I'd rather stay. You say it won't be much longer?"
The waiting room was like most waiting rooms the world over. No matter how well-decorated and comfortable, they seem permeated with unease, probably caused by the nervous and frightened people that sit in them. The magazines are often years old, but no one seems to notice. They flip through the pages with sightless eyes.
To a casual onlooker the two people in the waiting room could have been total strangers. They didn't speak or glance in each other's direction, although, that was a dead give-away that they did in fact know each other. Kris felt that most strangers in a room appraise each other from plain curiosity and lack of anything to do, and that their nerves usually made them strike up a conversation. Heck, even an extremely shy person would sneak a look. Nevertheless, the two of them studiously sat on opposite sides of the room, reading the backdated magazines. Time ticked slowly by and no amount of clock-watching hastened it along. Their mutual anxiety grew, and the tension reached a peak when a nurse entered the room and smiled at Raoul. "She's going to be all right. She's in recovery for the moment. Dr. Grace wants to see you. He'll be in shortly."
Some time later, the elderly man entered the room. Kris and Raoul rose and moved together.
"She's fine. Luckily we caught it when we did, or we would have had fearful trouble. You got here just in the nick of time, m'boy." He slapped Raoul on the back. "She's a healthy young'un, and all going well, she should be home in a couple of days. She'll be a bit miserable when you see her, though." He glanced at his watch. "She should be back in her bed. I suggest you don't stay long. We could all do with some sleep after today."
He made his way out of the room, and Kris put her hands to her face, drawing in a deep breath. In an almost reflex fashion, near to tears, she turned towards the tall man standing beside her as the relief flooded through her. Then she felt his firm hands pull her head hard against the rough tweed of his jacket. His movement had also been a reaction to the tension, and the desire to dissipate it through the comfort of feeling someone else held close.
They stood stock still for a second, then the awareness of their proximity hit them simultaneously and they sprang apart as the nurse reappeared.
"She's awake and in bed. You can come through now." Her face gave nothing away.
PJ appeared to be out of it. She did not notice her father holding her hand and calling her name. He looked bewildered, as most men do in these circumstances. He stepped aside for Kris who knelt down by the bed, stroking the child's brow. "It's all over, kitten. Hush now, you'll be better soon. Look whose here to see you."
PJ opened her eyes briefly and lifted her hand up. Raoul grasped it gently. "Hello, Daddy," she began, but her words trailed off. Their presence seemed to soothe her, and she drifted off into a more peaceful sleep.
Kris continued to stroke PJ's soft forehead for a while. "Sleep well, baby. See you in the morning." She stood up and looked over to Raoul. "Let's go. She'll sleep for sometime and there's nothing more we can do."
Silently they walked to the car, and in silence, drove home.
...x...
Politeness made Kris ask Raoul if he would like something to drink. Politely, he refused. He made as though to touch her arm, but let his hand fall to his side. He didn't move away, however, as they stood in the darkened hall, the house strangely quiet.
"On second thought, I think a drink will unwind us. Won't you join me?" His face was strained and his handsome eyes looked weary.
Kris moved to the lounge and switched on a small table lamp. Funny how he has a way with me, Kris thought. He makes me do exactly as he wants. A tight feeling developed in her stomach. Earlier in the evening she had formulated her plans, definitely not to be changed. But now -- oh, Heavens -- she just wanted to be with him.
In the friendly glow of the soft light, she curled up at one end of the settee and met Raoul's eyes squarely as he stood over her with a drink. To her surprise, he flopped down at the other end and put his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and stretched his long legs out in front of him.
She allowed herself the luxury of studying the man, but with mounting desire. Her eyes traveled from the soft leather of his boots, up his strong legs, to his well-muscled thighs. Once there her gaze lingered over the tight crotch area of his cream cord trousers, and then reluctantly over his flat stomach to the two open buttons of his silk shirt. Oh, to curl my fingers in the dark hairs on his chest, she thought. Kris' body throbbed as she stared at his face, her mind full of wicked and sensuous thoughts.
The light accentuated the lean angular lines of his cheeks where the jagged scar stretched across his face. She loved to look at every inch of him, from his heavy brows and dark lashes, to his thick tousled hair and firm, well-shaped lips.
Unable to stop, she stretched her supple body alongside him and pressed her lips softly against his, her h
and moving high on his leg. His whole body arched at her touch. His lips parted slowly and his hand moved to the back of her head, pressing her closer. Their kiss was long. Their heads moved gently to exert the repeated pressure of its sensuality.
Her hand moved higher and kneaded the growing response beneath her gentle fingers. Kris shifted her body so that the ache in her hardening breasts could also find relief as they pressed against his chest.
He pulled her head back, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. His mouth slack with emotion, his breath came out harshly as he muttered in a hoarse voice, "What are you doing to me?" Then he put his mouth down on her moist, parted lips, anxious for her to take his probing tongue.
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