Lucy Gordon - Falling for the Rebel Falcon

He extended his hand and she shook it, trying to control her whirling thoughts. She was shocked at herself. She, who prided herself on being in command of every situation, was suddenly reduced to stammering confusion.

‘How … how do you do?’ she murmured.

‘I COULD ASK you the same,’ he said wryly, ‘but it’s a silly question. Neither of us seems to be doing very well since meeting the other.’

‘I guess you’re right. Ouch!’ She reached down to her ankle, which had hurt as she moved it.

‘The doctor will be here soon,’ he said. ‘He can make a full assessment.’

‘I hope so,’ she said, rubbing the spot, but making little impact because the material of the jeans was in the way.

‘You’ll need to take them off so that the doctor can get to it,’ Leonid said. ‘Ah, there’s someone at the door.’

While he went to the door she started to undress, meaning to pull the sheets over her, to preserve modesty. First she removed her right shoe, then tried to remove her left, but this was the injured foot and pulling at the shoe was intensely painful. She was still floundering when he turned back into the room, carrying a tray of tea.

‘Are you having trouble?’ he asked, quickly setting down the tray.

‘Yes, this shoe won’t move— ow!’

He set down the tray. ‘Let me help you. Just lie there and I’ll do the work.’

He eased the shoe off as gently as possible. It hurt, but not unbearably, and at last both feet were free.

‘Thank you,’ she said, lying back.

He tried to study the damaged foot, frowning. ‘It’s hard to see while your jeans are covering it.’

‘Yes, I really will have to take them off,’ she sighed.

‘Let me help you. It’s all right, I won’t look. This is strictly medical.’

‘Thanks.’

She opened the buttons at the waist, unzipped the front and began to ease the material down. At first she managed but there came a point when he had to take over. Perdita took a deep breath, raised her hips slightly, balancing on her one good foot, while he drew the jeans towards him, gradually revealing beautiful, slender hips clad in delicate silken panties. But these he didn’t see. His head was ostentatiously turned away.

A little further, a bit more—then it was time to pull the jeans over the injured foot.

‘Sorry if I hurt you,’ he said as she gasped.

‘Not your fault.’

‘Is anyone staying here with you, anyone I can contact?’

‘No.’

‘You’re alone? There’s nobody to look after you?’

‘I don’t need looking after,’ she assured him.

He looked cynical. ‘You can lie there and say that, after what’s just happened?’

His manner was kind but authoritative, with a touch of ‘laying down the law’ and she was provoked to say, ‘What about you? Is someone looking after you?’

‘I don’t need looking after,’ he echoed her.

‘Well, you know the answer to that.’

‘Yes, Miss Hanson, I guess I do.’

‘How do you know my name?’

‘I saw it in your passport when I picked it up off the floor. You are Erica Hanson, and you’re English.’

‘I guess my passport told you that too.’

‘Plus your accent, and the fact that you chose tea.’

‘Ah yes, that’s a dead giveaway, isn’t it?’

A knock on the door announced the arrival of the doctor, a kindly middle-aged man.

‘How much does it hurt?’ he asked, feeling the ankle. ‘Bearable,’ Perdita said.

‘Good. It’s a bit twisted. There’s no serious damage but it still needs some rest.’

‘You mean I’m going to be confined up here?’ she asked, aghast.

‘Not necessarily. The hotel can let you have a wheelchair for a day or so. I’ll arrange it, plus a walking stick for when you need to leave the wheelchair.’

He bandaged the ankle and gave her some painkillers, then spoke to Leonid. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow. Can you manage to look after her until then?’

‘But—’ Perdita began to protest but was silenced by a gesture from Leonid.

‘Leave it to me,’ he told the doctor.

He saw the man to the door and returned. Perdita was still lying down, now with the duvet modestly pulled up over her hips. It had seemed the right thing to do, although this man had a mysterious quality that didn’t make her feel at all modest.

‘I can’t let you look after me,’ she protested.

‘You don’t have any choice,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve decided.’

‘Don’t I get a say?’

‘Not in the slightest.’

His manner was slightly too hard to be called warm but it wasn’t unkind. She guessed he wasn’t a patient man, but neither was he entirely unsympathetic. His eyes were dark, shadowed, hinting at fascinating depths full of mysteries. But also hinting at something else, lighter, possibly interesting.

And he was the brother of the man she’d come here to study, she reminded herself. Professional efficiency demanded that she prolong this moment.

‘That’s kind of you,’ she said softly. ‘Especially after I gave you so much trouble.’

He made a sound that was half a sigh, half a groan.

‘Look, I’d better tell you, I’m not just being nice. There’s something in this for me too.’

So the attraction wasn’t just on her side, she thought. She held her breath, longing for him to say the next words, and slightly shocked at herself for wanting it so much.

‘It’s like this,’ he said.

But before he could speak there was a knock at the door. He scowled. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’

‘Nobody,’ she said.

He opened the door, revealing an attractive young woman.

‘Sorry to barge in,’ she said. ‘But I’ve got a message for you, and I saw you carrying a woman upstairs.’ She glanced at Perdita, lying in bed. ‘I haven’t … er … interrupted anything, have I?’

‘You have,’ he said ironically. ‘But not what you’re thinking.’ He pulled her close for a kiss on the cheek.

Perdita sighed. So that was that.

So much for false hopes.

The young woman was in her twenties, well-dressed and modestly attractive without being a great beauty.

‘Where did you vanish to?’ she asked Leonid. ‘We were all of us about to go to the chapel but suddenly you weren’t there.’

‘Sorry, Freya, I remembered something I had to do.’

‘Are you going to introduce me?’ she said, indicating Perdita.

‘Freya, this is Erica Hanson. Erica, this is my stepsister. My father is married to her mother.’

‘And we bicker like a real brother and sister,’ Freya said cheerfully. ‘Hello, Erica. It’s nice to meet you. Very nice indeed.’

She said the last words with a mysterious significance, and a glance at Leonid that was laden with meaning.

‘I’m off to the chapel,’ she said. ‘They’ll be starting the rehearsal soon. Are you coming, Leonid?’

‘I’m not sure for the moment—’

‘Don’t worry, Amos won’t be there. He hasn’t arrived yet. Anyway, I’ll see you later at the family gathering. Erica, I look forward to seeing you there.’

‘Well, I don’t know if I—’

‘Of course you do. Bye for now.’

She hurried out, but not without turning in the doorway and giving them a thumbs up sign.

‘What was that all about?’ Perdita asked.

‘I’m afraid it means that my family is trying to take you over for its own purpose,’ he said ruefully. ‘Freya has a problem. My father has five sons but no daughter, and he wants to see Freya married off to one of us so that she’ll be more than just his stepdaughter. But he’s rapidly running out of sons. Darius is already married, Marcel is marrying Cassie tomorrow, and that just leaves three of us.