The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
it’s not comfortable, we’ll take it off. Would you like some help with your make-up?’
There was a case holding everything imaginable, but all she’d chosen to use over the past week was moisturiser and a pale lipstick. Perfume? Her fingers hovered near the curved glass bottle of Dior, then retreated. She hadn’t bothered to use it in hospital, so why begin now?
Elise watched with idle fascination as the nurse extracted a valise and began filling it with all her belongings.
‘Please,’ Elise intervened as the girl caught up a variety of glossy magazines. ‘Keep them.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. And the flowers,’ she added. ‘Divide them among the day and night staff. And the fruit, the chocolates.’
The nurse’s features mirrored her gratitude. ‘Thanks. They’ll be appreciated.’
Elise’s mouth curved into a soft smile. ‘You’ve all looked after me with great care.’
They had, despite it being their job to do so. Yet there had been a marked degree of dedication to this particular patient.
Because of the man whose very presence demanded nothing less? Or was it the faint air of mystery, the haunting vulnerability of the attractive girl who had occupied this suite?
‘Sister will be here in a moment to formally sign you out of the hospital system.’
Elise murmured something suitable in response, and gazed sightlessly after the nurse’s departing form.
Why did she feel so uncertain and so damnably insecure? A natural reaction, an inner voice assured her, in tones remarkably like those of the consultant neurologist.
The door swung open and she turned towards the ward sister, accepted the relevant appointment cards, and listened to the professional advice which concluded with, ‘Don’t attempt anything too strenuous too soon.’
‘I will personally see that she doesn’t,’ a faintly accented masculine voice assured her from the doorway, and Elise turned slowly to face her husband.
The business suit he had worn that morning was absent, replaced by dark trousers and a polo shirt unbuttoned at the neck. The casual knit fabric emphasised his breadth of shoulder, the long sinewed sweep to his taut waist, and revealed powerfully muscled forearms liberally sprinkled with dark hair.
His smile was warm, and Elise idly watched the nurse’s reaction with detached fascination, aware of the faint appreciative gleam evident beneath the professional façade.
Did all women respond to Alejandro Santanas in this way? Elise wondered silently. Such thoughts were hardly conducive to her peace of mind, and she stood very still as he moved towards her and brushed his lips against her temple.
‘I have the car waiting outside.’
Her indecision must have been apparent, for his gaze narrowed slightly as it took in her pale features and the degree of uncertainty evident in her deep green eyes.
‘You have no need to feel apprehensive,’ he assured quietly.
Are you kidding? she wanted to scream. I’m being taken to a home I can’t remember with a man I feel I hardly know.
With a sense of desperation she sought to elicit some sort of recollection—anything that would provide her with a measure of reassurance.
Yet there was nothing, and she cursed herself afresh for attempting to force a situation over which she had no control.
‘If you’d care to follow me,’ the ward sister suggested, ‘I’ll accompany you to the main entrance.’
His frame seemed to overpower hers as they traversed the carpeted corridor, and her stomach executed a series of painful somersaults as she caught sight of a large, expensive-looking vehicle parked immediately adjacent to the main doors.
Indisputably his, it looked as powerful as the man who owned it, and she slid carefully into the passenger seat, unconsciously holding her breath as he leaned forward to attend to her seatbelt.
His hand brushed against her breast, and her pulse leapt, then set up an agitated beat as he carefully fastened the clip in place, leaving her feeling helplessly trapped.
Oh, God. She had to control her over-active imagination, she counselled silently as he closed the door and crossed round to slide in behind the wheel.
The car eased forward and she experienced the insane desire to tell him to stop and let her out, which was crazy, for where could she go?
Minutes later the large vehicle emerged into the steady stream of traffic, and with a sense of resignation she focused her attention on the scene beyond the windscreen.
Houses constructed of bricks and mortar; neat garden borders bearing a variety of brightly coloured flowers; carefully tended lawns; trees lining the streets, their wide spreading branches providing shade from the sun’s shimmering rays; numerous electronically controlled intersections; shops.
It all appeared so normal, so everyday. Yet none of it looked familiar.
Some of her tension must have made itself felt, for Alejandro turned slightly and cast her a discerning glance.
‘You are uncomfortable?’
Her eyes widened slightly as she met his dark gaze, and she uttered a polite negation before he returned his attention to the road.
The car’s air-conditioning reduced the force of the midsummer heat, and Elise breathed a silent sigh of relief as he activated the stereo system, glad of the music’s soothing qualities, for it precluded the necessity to converse.
With seeming fascination she observed the quality and style of the houses lining the wide arterial road begin to change, from small, dark, weathered brick structures sited on small blocks of land to those of larger and more stately design.
Old mingled with new, their elegant façades revealing a visual attestation of wealth.
The celluloid print Alejandro had shown her of their home in suburban Point Piper revealed a large double-storeyed mansion overlooking the harbour. How long before they reached it?
‘A few more minutes,’ Alejandro told her quietly, almost as if he knew the passage of her thoughts.
THE large vehicle slowed to a halt before a set of ornate steel gates which opened at the touch of an electronic modem, then closed just as quietly behind them as Alejandro eased the car along a wide sweeping driveway.
The double-storeyed house was an architectural masterpiece in cream cement-rendered brick and floor-to-ceiling tinted glass, its tiled roof a dazzling silver-white, and set well back from the road in beautiful sculptured grounds, whose neat garden borders and profusion of flowers and shrubs were visual proof of a gardener’s loving care.
The car drew to a halt at the main entrance where an impressive set of heavy panelled doors was offset by a pair of large ornamental urns, and once inside Elise was unable to prevent a faint gasp in awe of the spacious foyer.
The central focus was a tiered marble fountain, complete with gently cascading water, above which an ornate crystal chandelier hung suspended from the high glass-domed ceiling which lent spaciousness and light. A wide double staircase curved up to an oval balcony from which opposing hallways led to two separate wings.
Exotically designed panels of stained glass in the huge atrium shot brilliant prisms of multi-coloured light on to the pale walls, magnifying their pattern in an ever-changing sweep controlled by the direction of the sun’s rays.
‘It’s beautiful.’ The words slid unbidden from her lips, and she moved forward to pause at the marble fountain. ‘Were you responsible for the design?’