The Doctor's One Night to Remember

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.’