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going to hurt, cleaning it up. Would you like a shot of brandy before I
start?" he asked.
The suggestion made Caroline smile. "You're not probing for a
bullet," she said dryly. "Don't worry, I won't faint away."
Because he was nervous of hurting her, the cleaning operation was
much more uncomfortable than it need have been. Garoline set her
teeth and tried not to flinch as he forced the cut open and gingerly
dabbed at the embedded grains of sand. By the time he had finished,
she was feeling rather sick.
"There, I think that will do." Colin cut some lint and used a whole roll
of bandage to anchor it in place. "I'm afraid I'm not too hot at this sort
of thing. Are you feeling okay? You look a bit woozy."
"Do I? I feel all right." Caroline swung her legs to the floor. "Thanks,
Colin. I'm sorry to be such a nuisance."
"It wasn't your fault." He put his arm round her waist to help her
stand..
The next thing she knew was that he had both arms round her and was
kissing her.
For an instant, Caroline was too surprised to resist him. When she did
push him away, it was with more exasperation than anger. What a
time to choose to kiss her!
In freeing herself, she put weight on her injured foot, and
momentarily closed her eyes against the sharp pain. When she opened
them, she was looking straight at Ian Dryden, his tall white-coated
figure framed by the open french doors.
"I'm sorry to intrude," he said smoothly, "but your party seems to be
becoming rather unruly, Colin. Go and see if you can tone things
down slightly, will you?" He noticed Caroline's bandaged foot.
"What's this? Has there been an accident ?"
"It's nothing serious. Come on, Caroline." Looking daggers at his
cousin, Colin took her arm and moved towards the verandah.
But Ian remained, barring their way out. "What happened?" he asked
sharply.
"I cut my foot. Colin has been dressing it for me," Caroline said
stiffly.
How long had he been there? she wondered. Had he seen Colin trying
to embrace her?
"Not very expertly, by the look of it. What did you cut it on?" Ian
persisted.
"A piece of glass. She's all right," Colin said brusquely.
"I'll take a look, if you don't mind." Ian stepped into the room, forcing
his cousin to give way. "Off you go," he said summarily. "The racket
on the beach is disturbing your mother's party."
For a moment, Colin looked defiant. Then, with a sullen shrug, he
said, "Oh, very well. I shan't be five minutes, Caroline, then I'll take
you home."
When he had gone, Ian took off his dinner jacket, unlinked his cuffs
and rolled them back over his forearms. Without looking at Caroline,
he moved to the basin to wash his hands.
She watched him in silence, knowing it would be futile to argue with
him. After a moment or two, she sat down on the bed once more. Her
heel was throbbing now, and she felt cold and curiously exhausted.
Having dried his hands, Ian went down on his haunches and unpinned
the bandage which Colin had fastened across her instep. The cut must
have started to bleed again as he had to pull the piece of lint away
from it.
"Hm ... just as I thought. This isn't anything like clean," he said, with
a frown of annoyance. "If it weren't so late, I'd run you round to the
doctor. As it is, I'll deal with it myself. Lie down and turn over on
your front, will you."
It was an order, and she obeyed it without protest because she knew
that, if the cut was not clean, it would be childishly perverse to object
to his ministrations.
"Colin did his best. He was afraid of hurting me," she said, with her
face against the counterpane.
"Very likely - but a few minutes' pain now is preferable to an infected
wound tomorrow," Ian said incisively. She felt him grip her ankle.
"I'll be as quick as I can."
This time the pain was really agonizing. Her whole body went stiff
and she dug her fingers into the bedding, thankful that her face was
turned away from him.
"It doesn't need to be bandaged. A plaster will hold the dressing in
place overnight," Ian said presently. "Tomorrow you'd better let our
resident nurse have a look at it."
"Yes, I will. Thank you." Caroline sat up, feeling weak and a little
giddy. She wished Colin would come back.
Ian replaced the things he had used, and tossed the discarded bandage
into a waste paper basket. As he turned down his shirt-sleeves, she
saw him cast a disapproving eye over the untidiness of the room. It
was not squalidly untidy because there were probably at least two [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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