Bought for His Bed. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ look like it. What I want to know,’ the nurse said with genuine interest, ‘is how you managed to hide from everyone that you were sleeping on the beach. The islanders usually know exactly what’s happening in their own areas, and you’d have been picked up on any of the resort beaches.’

      Fleur flushed. ‘I found a tiny bay with only two houses in it—both of them seemed empty holiday houses.’

      ‘About a kilometre away on the road back to town?’

      Fleur nodded. ‘No one seemed to live there.’

      ‘It’s owned by a family who are in Australia for a wedding. They’ll be back in a couple of days, so you’d have been found then.’

      ‘I slept under a big tree so even if anyone was on the beach at night they wouldn’t see me.’ She redirected the conversation. ‘This looks delicious, thank you.’

      ‘Coffee or tea?’

      The thought of coffee made her stomach roil. ‘Tea, please.’ And asked impulsively, ‘Where am I?’ At the nurse’s astonished look she added, ‘I’ve seen photos of the Chapman house—a lovely old house. This seems much more modern.’

      ‘Oh, you’re thinking of Luke’s parents’ house, the old mansion.’

      Unconsciously Fleur must have hoped that this was a new wing built onto the old plantation-style house, and that any moment Luke’s mother might come to see her. The knowledge that she was in Luke’s house produced an odd kind of panic, mingled with an even stranger excitement.

      Chattily, the nurse went on, ‘Luke had this one built a couple of years ago when he came back from overseas and decided he needed his own place. We hoped he might be getting married, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen for a while yet.’

      Perhaps realising that this was moving too close to gossip, she smiled and reiterated, ‘Eat up everything! Then you can shower. I’ve brought you a wrap to wear, and a proper nightgown. You need something a bit nicer to wear than Luke’s tee-shirt.’

      Which brought more heat to Fleur’s cheeks. It seemed somehow sinfully decadent to be clad in her reluctant host’s shirt.

      ‘Where did you get the wrap and nightgown?’ she asked.

      ‘Luke’s housekeeper gave me the money, so I suppose it was from Luke.’

      Fleur vowed to pay him back, no matter how long it took, but when she thanked him for them he said matter-of-factly, ‘Don’t worry about that now. Concentrate on eating and sleeping and drinking!’

      That day set a pattern for the several that followed, except that she was allowed up for progressively longer periods each day, although both nurse and the doctor when she visited each evening kept a close eye on her welfare.

      Luke came in twice a day, bringing with him that instant awareness, a charge of vital energy she’d never experienced before. When he walked through the door she felt invigorated, every sense newly alert, as though previously she’d lived in a kind of stupor.

      Apart from those moments, she spent most of her time reading. He had a very good library, she discovered enviously, and once he’d asked her tastes he chose a book for her each day. She also watched videos and the local television station. And she looked wistfully at the wonderful garden she could see from the windows.

      She also found that she was too wobbly on her feet to entertain the thought of going out. But the days were long and she disgusted herself by thinking far too much about Luke, and was shocked at the eagerness with which she waited for him to call in night and morning.

      The day she was allowed up the nurse arrived with an armful of colour.

      ‘Pareus,’ she said. ‘In Fiji they call them lavalavas. My daughter sent them along for you.’

      ‘They’re beautiful,’ Fleur said, ‘but I can’t wear your daughter’s clothes.’

      Patiently the older woman told her, ‘They’re not clothes, they’re just a piece of material. She’s got dozens. Look, all you do is drape the length right round you and tuck it in. Hold your arms out.’

      Feeling both ungrateful and ungracious, after an embarrassed second Fleur obeyed. Deftly the nurse wound the fine cotton around her and showed her the way to tuck it in.

      ‘Won’t it come undone?’ she asked doubtfully.

      ‘Not unless it gets rough handling,’ the nurse said cheerfully. ‘Our girls wear them all the time, even swim in them. Now, watch while I show you how to fasten it again.’

      Once satisfied that Fleur knew how to do it, she said, ‘I’ve brought some underwear for you, too—Luke told me to buy what you needed. I even found the right bra in one of the shops in town!’

      ‘Thank you,’ Fleur said, her pride taking yet another battering.

      Under the nurse’s supervision she showered, then wrapped herself in the pareu.

      ‘Go and see how you look,’ the other woman said, ‘while I get you a cup of tea.’

      Warily Fleur examined herself in the mirror. The pareu was blissfully cool, and although it showed a lot of pale skin it was modest enough, fastening above any cleavage and falling loosely to knee level.

      How would Luke Chapman think she looked in it?

      ‘He probably wouldn’t even notice you’re wearing something different,’ she told her reflection contemptuously. He certainly wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath it.

      The next evening the doctor said, ‘Right, you don’t need me any more. You’re fully recovered from the dehydration, but I’m not too happy about your general health.’ She paused as though inviting a confidence.

      Fleur said tonelessly, ‘My mother died a while ago—I nursed her until she went. I’m fine. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.’

      Eyes unexpectedly keen, Dr King waved away Fleur’s thanks. ‘Just doing my job. How long was your mother ill?’

      ‘Five years.’

      The doctor nodded. ‘And you looked after her all that time?’

      ‘Towards the end she spent quite a bit of time in the hospice,’ Fleur told her, keeping her voice level and unemotional.

      ‘I see. Well, when you go home, see your own doctor. You’ve been under considerable stress, and this last little problem on the island certainly hasn’t helped. Talk to him and see what he can do for you.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Fleur said automatically. What could anyone prescribe for grief?

      The pleasant Australian said shrewdly, ‘Your mother had the right idea—she knew you’d be exhausted, and that you’d need a complete change of circumstances to get the full benefit of any holiday. Dehydration and heat exhaustion certainly played a part in your collapse, but there was more to it than that. Nursing someone you love is exhausting in more ways than the physical. I don’t think you should go home until you’re fully rested.’

      ‘How СКАЧАТЬ