The Unexpected Father. Kathryn RossЧитать онлайн книгу.
were assessing her in a light-hearted manner. She was wearing a cotton summer dress which had a faded floral print in blues and pinks. It was not a sophisticated dress but it was pretty, or rather it had looked pretty before she had lost so much weight. Now it hung on her slender frame in a way that was not exactly flattering. Not that she cared about her looks, and she certainly didn’t give a damn what Josh Hamilton thought of her.
‘I thought you might have left by now,’ she said crisply, pointedly ignoring his remarks.
‘If you can’t drive, getting out of here is not so easy,’ he said, indicating his wrist, which was still bandaged. ‘Believe me, I’ve explored all the options.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Samantha nodded. ‘I was hoping to be able to catch a plane to Salanga, but unfortunately none of the air relief has been able to get in.’
She turned to continue walking and he fell into step beside her. ‘You’re leaving?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Yes... I’ve been given my orders to go home. Apparently I need peace and quiet so as to heal my emotionally traumatised body.’ She made a joke of the subject, her lips curved in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘What about you? Are you going back to England?’
‘No, I’m not due to leave Nuangar for a while yet.’
They walked out into the heat of the day. The sky was a perfect dazzling blue which contrasted sharply against the brown mud huts and the dusty red earth. People were going about their work as usual. The sound of children’s singing drifted up from the school at the far end of the compound.
The hospital was the only brick building among a collection of mud huts huddled together at the edge of the African bush. Chuanga had once been a thriving little community, but since the war conditions had become unbearable. They were surrounded by hostile terrain, where the warring factions allowed very little to come in or out. Except for the radio, they were cut off from the outside world.
It was early afternoon, and quiet for once. She realised suddenly that the gunfire had stopped. The calm, tranquil sound of silence was like a blessed balm to her stretched nerves.
‘It amazes me how the people of Chuanga seem to remain so cheerful, even under the worst of conditions,’ Josh remarked idly.
‘Yes, I know,’ Samantha agreed. ‘I used to wander down to the school sometimes and talk to some of the children who had lost their parents. When I heard about some of the hardships they have had to endure before getting here, it made me think my own childhood was paradise. People in the West forget how well off they are sometimes... We tend to take things for granted.’
‘I presume you are talking about little things—like food, running water and medical aid?’ Josh enquired, raking a hand through the thickness of his hair and grinning. ‘Let me assure you that I will never take a juicy steak, a hot shower or a beautiful nurse for granted again.’
Samantha felt her cheeks growing pink at the seductive, drawling words. ‘Being out here certainly changes your perspective on things,’ she agreed, injecting a prim, disapproving note in her voice.
‘It does indeed.’ He watched as she came to a halt beside a large thatched rondavel—the name given to the mud huts which served as living quarters.
There was a look of uncertainty on her face as she paused by the door, then she looked up at him. ‘Well, it was nice talking to you, Mr Hamilton,’ she said briskly.
‘Josh,’ he corrected her quietly, his eyes never leaving the pallor of her skin, the darkness of her eyes. ‘I feel we know each other well enough to leave formalities behind... don’t you?’
‘Well...’ She struggled for some polite answer, but could find none. The truth was that she didn’t want to drop formalities where this man was concerned. For some reason she wanted to keep every single barrier she possessed well and truly in position.
‘Can you drive, Samantha?’ he asked suddenly.
She frowned, flicking her hair out of her eyes to look up at him with curiosity. ‘Well...yes... Why do you ask?’
‘Open that door, invite me in and I’ll tell you,’ he said firmly.
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to invite him inside, but she didn’t want to give this man the wrong idea...she didn’t want him to think she might be interested in him, because she certainly wasn’t.
‘I’m not going to take advantage of you,’ he drawled impatiently. ‘For one thing you’re not my type...for another I might look like a chauvinistic, insensitive brute but I’m not really. It’s a disguise I’ve had to adopt over the years.’
‘You’ve certainly perfected the technique,’ she said archly, wondering whether to be angered by his words or amused by them. Then curiosity overtook caution. ‘Well, you had better come in, then.’ She opened the door and led the way into the room.
It was stark inside—just a bed covered with a mosquito net, a rough-hewn table and a small cupboard. The only decoration was two photographs on the table. Josh glanced around at the spartan furnishings, his eyes lingering for a moment on the photographs. One was of her parents; it was faded, and in black and white, but it was the only reminder she had of the parents she had barely known. Next to it was her wedding photograph, with Ben smiling down at her in a tender way.
Samantha pulled out the one and only chair by the table. ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she invited a trifle self-consciously. She noticed with gratitude that some kind person had left some soft drinks for her in a cool-box by the bed.
She picked up a bottle and held it out towards him. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘I don’t suppose you have a cold beer in there?’
‘I’m a nurse, not a magician,’ she said stiffly.
He grinned at her look of disapproval. ‘An orange juice, or whatever it is, would be great—thanks.’
She took the tops off the bottles and handed him one. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got any glasses.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’ He held up the bottle in a salute before taking a long, thirsty drink.
For a second she found herself watching him curiously. He looked incongruous in the small chair. He was very tall, very powerfully built, with wide shoulders tapering to lithe hips. His long legs were stretched out in front of him in a manner that suggested he was very relaxed, yet Samantha sensed that for all his laid-back manner he was taking in his surroundings with a trained, observant eye. Perhaps a keen journalist never relaxed and always noticed everything.
He was looking again at her wedding photograph, and Samantha’s nerves stretched painfully as she followed his gaze. She sat down on the side of the bed.
‘How long were you and Ben married?’
‘Nearly two years.’ Her voice was stilted.
‘Strange.’ Josh shook his head. ‘I saw his parents when I was in London last October. They never mentioned anything about you.’
For the briefest moment Samantha hesitated. She and Ben had met through their work in Chuanga and had married there. She had only met Edward and Sarah Walker once, when she and Ben had been granted leave after their wedding to go back to England for two weeks.
‘They didn’t approve of the match.’ She was proud of the way she kept her voice so cool, and her expression didn’t falter. The hurt and the disappointment she had experienced where Ben’s family were concerned was buried deep.
‘Why ever not?’ He frowned.
‘Something to do with the fact that I wasn’t Helen.’
‘Ah...’ His voice trailed off knowingly.
‘You knew her?’ Samantha’s interest was immediately piqued. She had heard so much about the beautiful, clever Helen Roland from Ben’s