Cinderella and the Surgeon

He sat the antibiotics on the table and saw that Rob had added in a couple of extra antihistamines. Harry grabbed her a glass of water from the bathroom and sat out the pills she needed to take.

He spoke as gently as he could. ‘Esther, you need to take your antibiotics, and another antihistamine. You still have a bit of a reaction going on. Can you take these for me?’ He pressed them into one hand and held the glass in his other.

Something must have clicked in her brain. She didn’t open her eyes, but put the tablets in her mouth. Harry closed her hand around the glass of water and her body acted automatically, lifting the glass to her mouth and swallowing. The second it was done she hunkered back down into the bed, lying on her side.

Harry pulled a pale yellow blanket up from the bottom of the bed. She wasn’t actually under the duvet, as putting her there seemed intrusive, so he refilled her glass of water and tucked the blanket around her.

At the last moment, he scribbled a note on the pad next to her bed before he walked out and closed the door.

He’d check on her again in a few hours.

He smiled, remembering words he’d heard her say to someone else earlier that day. Something about having their head in their hands to play with if they didn’t do what they were told.

It seemed highly likely that tomorrow that person would be him.

But Harry wasn’t scared. In fact, he liked it.

CHAPTER FIVE

SHE HADN’T FELT this rested and comfortable in a long time. There was the warmest feeling around her, almost as if she were sleeping in some kind of luxury cocoon.

She sniffed. And that little action woke her up. A slight hint of lemon. Her flat did not smell of lemon. No matter how many air fresheners she bought. Her flat always had an underlying odour of damp.

She sat bolt upright, eyes widening at the pale yellow walls, unfamiliar furniture and the space in the room. She felt like Dorothy, waking up in a place that certainly wasn’t Kansas.

There. At the bottom of the bed was a tray, with a large teapot, a slight trail of steam coming from the spout. A china cup and saucer sat next to it, along with a milk jug and small plate containing slices of lemon. That’s where the smell was coming from.

Her mouth felt yucky. And she swung her legs off the bed as she tried to make sense of things in her head. She should be shouting. She should be screaming. But she had the oddest sensation of not being gripped by panic. It was just as if her brain was playing catch up.

There, sitting on the bedside table, was her bottle of antibiotics along with a glass of water. She took one automatically and walked through to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror wasn’t pleasant. But the accessories sitting around the white sink and vanity unit were strangely welcoming.

Her head was starting to unfog. The shift last night in A&E. How busy it was. She unconsciously scratched at her skin. She walked back and picked up the antibiotics again. Of course. These were new.

She patted herself. She still had on all her clothes. The only things removed were her jacket and her shoes, and even from here she could see these sitting clearly on a high-backed chair in the room.

Realisation struck. Harry. She’d agreed to go home with Harry. They’d got in the car together but she had absolutely no memory at all of getting here. She let out a groan. She’d fallen asleep, hadn’t she?

Heat rushed into her cheeks. He must have carried her up the stairs. Just how strong was Duke Harry?

She licked her lips and poured herself some tea. She wasn’t exactly in a rush to go and find him. One glance at her watch showed her how early it was. She had time to shower, and use some of the products in the bathroom to tidy herself up. She walked over to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes.

Wow. Her fingers caught on the obviously expensive material. She ran her fingers over it a few times before hauling the curtains backwards. The road outside was peaceful; she peered downwards through the checker-paned windows at the luxury cars parked in the street outside. The house seemed to be in some kind of square. She gave a shudder, not even wanting to take a guess at what a place like this cost.

She sipped at the tea, and turned on the shower, slipping out of her clothes and putting on the cosy white dressing gown that was hanging handily behind the bathroom door. With her hair tied up on top of her head it only took a few moments for her to start waking up once she’d stepped in the steaming hot shower. Once she’d scrubbed herself dry and used the rose-scented toiletries she felt a little better. The ugly rash from last night had all but vanished. She brushed her teeth and walked back through to pull her clothes back on. But something made her hesitate. Pulling on yesterday’s clothes seemed a little unpleasant. Her hand hovered next to the door. The guy had carried her upstairs and put her to bed. Would it really be so wrong to ask for a T-shirt?

As soon as she opened the door she could smell food cooking.

Her feet took her down a plush-carpeted corridor, a small set of stairs and into a white shiny kitchen. The kind normally found in a new show home that looked untouched.

Harry was in the middle of this kitchen with fresh toast, and mixing up some scrambled eggs. ‘Oh, Esther, are you okay? How are you feeling?’

She moved over towards the island in the kitchen, perching on one of the stools as she watched him cook. He seemed pretty relaxed. He obviously didn’t feel awkward about last night and she was thankful. This could have been a really uncomfortable morning.

She leaned her head on one hand. ‘I’m sorry. I must have zonked out on you last night.’

He gave her a wary glance as he tipped the scrambled eggs onto two plates. ‘That’s okay. How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Okay, I think. I don’t have the intense itch that I remember from last night. But there is something else.’

‘Yeah? What?’ His eyebrows rose as he looked at her quizzically.

She smiled. ‘I’m just waiting to see if you’re going to sue me for back injuries.’

He laughed and pushed the toast across the counter towards her. ‘Here. Eat up. You must be starving.’

She nodded in agreement

. ‘Yip. I am. I missed out on the beans I was going home to last night.’ She buttered her toast and took a spoonful of scrambled eggs. ‘Wow. You can actually cook.’

He sat down opposite her and picked up a cafetière of coffee. ‘Want some of this?’

She nodded as he poured. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’

‘I am?’ He fixed his dark eyes on her. It was clear he’d not long showered. The tips of his ruffled hair were still damp. When he smiled he had little crinkles around his eyes. Ones that were still there when he stopped. Obviously Harry usually smiled a lot, just not generally around her.

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘You are.’

Something flashed into her brain. Something she’d told him last night. She automatically straightened in her seat. ‘You felt sorry for me.’

He looked up from stirring his coffee. ‘What?’

‘Last night. I told you something I shouldn’t have. You felt sorry for me.’ She wanted to stand up and walk away. Every cell of her body was in defence mode right now.

His spoon paused just as he went to set it down. ‘I didn’t do this because I felt sorry for you, Esther. I did it because you were a colleague, and I was worried about you. You were clearly—’ his lips turned into a smile ‘—knackered. And you’d had a reaction to your antibiotic. I was just looking out for you. Not—’ he shook his head ‘—feeling sorry for you.’

She couldn’t help but smile back at his use of one of her frequently used words.

She wriggled her shoulders a bit—almost as if she were trying to shake off some of her anxieties.

‘How’s your rash?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, so we’re getting personal now?’

He wrinkled his nose in amusement. ‘Well, I’ve seen part of your body now anyway. Is it gone?’