“The head of orthopedics,” the clerk said, and as Samantha buried her face in Demetrios’s neck, he definitely felt her lips turn up in a smile.
* * *
The bruises on Sam’s face were nothing.
Bruises would not have shown up so quickly, the doctor explained. These were simply smudges of dirt and the nurse who attended the orthopedist and anticipated his every need carefully sponged them away with cotton dipped in alcohol.
The doctor checked Sam’s pupils and assured Demetrios they were fine. So was her coordination. She wasn’t in shock, either. She was cold from the night and the rain.
The nurse shooed him out of the examining room long enough to take off Sam’s soaked clothing and wrap her in a hospital nightgown, a hospital robe, and a blanket.
When he stepped back into the cubicle, his heart ached at the sight of her. His fierce kitten looked more like something the cat had dragged in. He kissed her forehead, sat in the chair beside her and clasped her hand while the doctor examined her ankle. He was very gentle but Sam clenched her teeth, then cried out with pain.
Demetrios almost went wild. “You are hurting her!”
“I am trying my best not to do so, Mr. Karas.”
Sam let out a strangled gasp. Her nails dug into his palm.
“Dammit,” Demetrios said, “you must be more careful.”
The doctor looked at him. “You have a choice, Mr. Karas,” he said softly. “You may stay here and be quiet or you may go out to the waiting room until I am done. Which will it be?”
Demetrios wanted to argue. He wanted to tell the man who had wrenched that cry from Samantha that he took orders from no one, that if he dared hurt the woman clutching his hand like a lifeline he would—he would…
“Please, Demetrios,” Sam whispered. “Don’t make a fuss.”
The pleading words took the fight out of him. “I won’t let them send me away.” He brought her uninjured hand to his mouth. “I will behave,” he said humbly. “I promise.”
Somehow, he managed to keep his word, even when it took a moment longer to get her to the X-ray lab than he thought it should, even when they wouldn’t let him go inside with her no matter how he argued. By the time the doctor reappeared, Demetrios was pacing the corridor.
“Well?” he said impatiently, “how is she?”
“Would you like to join me for some coffee, Mr. Karas? It has been a long day and a longer evening, and—”
Demetrios grabbed the orthopedist’s arm. “Just tell me what happened to her, dammit!”
The doctor sighed. “Miss Brewster sprained her ankle. It’s somewhere between a grade one and a grade two sprain.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she’s probably torn a ligament. It’s painful and it will take a bit of time to heal.”
“It isn’t a fracture?”
“No, no, the ankle’s not broken. Actually, she’s fortunate. Even a severe sprain can sometimes require surgery.”
Demetrios closed his eyes. He remembered his anger at knowing Samantha had set off alone in the dark, rain-washed streets, anger that had changed to panic when she’d suddenly stepped into the path of his car.
“It’s all my fault,” he said, swallowing hard. “She stepped off the curb. It was raining, and I was driving too fast…”
The doctor nodded. “She will be fine,” he said gently.
“I want the best surgeons,” Demetrios said. “And a second opinion. No offense, Doctor, but before you operate—”
“No one will operate,” the doctor said, even more gently. “As I said, Miss Brewster was fortunate. Her injury is painful, not dangerous. She’ll need to keep the ankle strapped for a few days and I’ve given her something for the sprain. She will be fine.”
Demetrios stared at him. “Is that all?”
“Absolutely. My assistant is putting an elastic bandage on the ankle.” He clapped Demetrios on the back. “Your lady is fine, Mr. Karas.”
“She works for me,” Demetrios said quickly, “that is all. And I am much relieved at what you’ve told me, Doctor.”
“I’m happy to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going home before my wife no longer recognizes my face.”
“Yes. Of course.” Demetrios smiled and held out his hand. “How can I thank you?”
“You might see to it that the board considers another residency program so that we’re not so overworked here.”
“Consider it done.”
“Just do yourself and the patient a favor, will you? Calm down before you drive her home.”
“I can take her home tonight?”
“Unless you’d rather she spent the night in the hospital.”
“I will take her home,” Demetrios said firmly. The shiver of pleasure that went through him at those words was something he preferred not to dwell on.
* * *
They gave him a vial of little tablets and instructions to give Sam one every four hours if she was in pain.
She wasn’t in pain now. Whatever they’d already given her was working. Demetrios could see it in the loopy smile she gave him. She was still wrapped in the hospital gown, robe and blanket. The nurse handed him a plastic bag that contained Sam’s soaked clothes and assured him that there was no hurry to return the borrowed things.
“Up we go,” Demetrios said softly, and lifted her into his arms again.
Sam curled her arms around his neck, sighed and lay her head against his shoulder.
“Wher’re we going?”
Her words were slurred. Her breath was warm. She was warm, and he thought how amazing it was that she should feel so right, in his embrace.
“Home, gataki,” he said softly, as he carried her to his car.
“Mmm,” she said thickly. “Home.”
“Yes, mátya mou. Home.”
He strapped her into the seat beside him, drove to the helipad as carefully as if his precious cargo were made of glass. She was sound asleep when he carried her onto his helicopter and she was still asleep when he carried her into his house—a house she had never seen, except for the kitchen.
His usually unflappable housekeeper looked shocked when she saw him. “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “What happened, sir?”
“Miss Brewster hurt her ankle,” he said softly, even though he suspected it would take a herd of stampeding Cape buffalo to rouse the woman nestled in his arms. “She will need care for the next few days.”
“Certainly, sir. Perhaps you want to put her in the Blue suite. If you wish, I can put a cot near the bed and sleep there so that I’ll be nearby if she needs me.”
“Yes, thank you, Cosimia. That might be…” He stopped in midsentence. “On second thought, it won’t be necessary. Miss Brewster will stay with me.”
His housekeeper’s mouth dropped open. “With you, sir?”
“Yes,” he said calmly, as if the idea were the logical outgrowth of a careful thought process, “with me. It will be simpler that way,” he added briskly. “I can use the sofa in my dressing room, if you would be good enough to make it up.”
He sat in an armchair near the window in his bedroom, the warm burden that was Sam in his arms, while Cosimia did as he’d asked.
Sam, he thought, smiling a little as he looked at the pale, perfect face, the slightly parted lips, the mass of autumn hair that had come loose of its clasp and dried in a frill of wild curls. Such an incongruous name for a woman so feminine, so beautiful—and yet, the name suited her spirit. Her tenacit
y.
She had claws, his kitten, and she was never afraid to use them.
“All done, sir,” Cosimia said softly.
“If you would just turn down the blankets on my bed…”
“I’ve already done that, sir.”
“Thank you.”
The door snicked shut. Demetrios didn’t move for a long time. At last he rose and carried Sam to his bed. She opened her eyes as he eased her down gently against the pillows.
“D’metrios?”
He smiled. “Hello.”
“What’re we doin’?”
“Getting you to bed, gataki,” he said softly. He put his arm around her, held her against him as he slid the bulky hospital robe from her shoulders. “Does your ankle bother you?”
Sam frowned and peered at her leg. “Whatsat?”
“What…? Ah. It’s an elastic bandage.”
“Waffo?”
It took a few seconds to decode. “What for?”
“Mmm.”
“You hurt your ankle. You had an accident.”
“Uh-huh. I’member. Dark street. Rainy. Stepped in front of car.” Sam blinked. “Yourcar,” she said, making the two words one.
“My car,” he said tightly. “Yes.” He laid her back against the pillows, still wearing the hospital gown. Sam’s eyes closed.
“Stilldress.”
Stilldress? He shook his head. “I don’t understand, sweetheart. What is ‘stilldress’?”
“Me,” she murmured, and tugged at the gown. “Stilldress.”
Of course. She was still dressed, still in her underthings. Could he let her sleep in them? Or—or…
His throat constricted. He knew what to do. Ring for Cosimia. Ask her to come to his room, to undress Sam and slip her into something cool and silken. But even as he thought it, he was undoing the ties of the hospital gown, sliding the gown off her shoulders, letting it fall to her waist, fumbling at the closure of her bra.
Demetrios caught his breath at her beauty, at the small, rounded lushness of her breasts and the elegant contrast of colors: the pale gold of her skin, the deep apricot of her nipples. How smooth her shoulders were, under his hands…
He dropped the robe to the carpet, tortured himself with a quick glance at the strip of lace between her thighs, then laid her down against the pillows.