Raw Deal

She piled her hair into a loose heap on her head, teased out a few tendrils and twirled in front of the mirror.

What she saw was enough to send her scurrying back to the wardrobe, but bearing in mind that she would have to wear both dresses in the end there seemed little point in changing. It was just that, in the shop and with Jo and Annie egging her on, it hadn’t seemed quite so … Oh, well. Who was going to see, anyway? After all, she’d already seen the captain, and he was a widower in his late fifties with grey, thinning hair and undoubtedly a wallet full of family snaps he would pull out at the first opportunity! Perhaps she’d misjudged her grandmother after all?

She was the last but one to arrive at the captain’s table, and apologised slightly breathlessly for her lateness.

‘Nonsense, my dear,’ Captain Rodrigues said jovially. ‘We’re still waiting for one member of the party—ah, here he is. Ben, come and join us!’

‘I do apologise for being late,’ a deep, rich voice murmured from behind her. ‘One of the penalties of the medical profession.’

As he slid gracefully into the seat beside her, Maggie caught a glimpse of fair hair, blue eyes and a boyish grin above a crisp white dress uniform with gold braid and a red cross on the breast pocket before she lowered her eyes.

Bingo. The ship’s doctor. And that explained the siting of her cabin next to the medical centre.

She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

CHAPTER TWO

‘Now you’re all here, let me introduce you,’ the captain was saying, but the only name Maggie heard was that of the ship’s doctor—and he was called Bradshaw, not Palmer, which blew her newly formed theory that he might be Gerald’s son! Perhaps it was just coincidence that such an eligible man had suddenly appeared at her side?

Her mind fell over laughing at the very idea. Where Lucinda was involved, coincidences simply didn’t happen—they were ruthlessly arranged. And anyway, there was still the question of the strategic positioning of her cabin.

Stifling the urge to laugh, Maggie looked up and encountered a boyish grin under a straight, slightly aquiline nose. She wondered if he was in on the conspiracy. He bowed slightly towards her.

‘Miss Wells,’ he murmured. ‘Welcome to the Island Pearl. What do you think of the old bucket so far?’

Maggie smiled. So what if it was all set up? She might as well have some fun. ‘She’s lovely—I think I’m really going to enjoy it.’

‘We shall see that you do,’ Captain Rodrigues interrupted. ‘I’m sure Dr Bradshaw would be delighted to keep you company—Miss Wells’s grandmother was to have accompanied her, Ben, but at the last minute she became unwell.’

‘How unfortunate,’ the doctor said smoothly. ‘I’ll have to see if I can’t step into her shoes, at least for part of the time.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Maggie told him with a laugh. ‘She’s forever trying to marry me off!’

One eyebrow quirked above his extraordinary grey-blue eyes. ‘Really? I wouldn’t have thought that would be very difficult.’ His eyes travelled lazily over the contours of Maggie’s figure, lovingly revealed by the sensuous drape of the midnight-blue silk jersey.

She shifted uncomfortably, forced a bright smile and met his eyes challengingly. ‘I’m extremely picky,’ she told him frankly.

A slow smile lit his eyes. ‘You can afford to be. After all, you’ve got plenty of time—how old are you? Twenty-one? Twenty-two, maybe?’

‘I’m twenty-eight—not that it’s any of your business,’ she retorted, irritated that she should feel flattered by his implication of immaturity. Perhaps Lucinda’s constant exhortation not to do or think anything ageing was rubbing off on her?

‘You must move in exclusively female circles,’ he said, and his lids lowered as he reappraised her.

She decided to turn the tables on him, and, leaning back in her chair, she turned half towards him and studied him openly.

‘How old are you, Dr Bradshaw?’

‘Ben. I’m thirty-one.’

‘Single?’

‘So far.’

‘Any—er—commitments?’

His lips twitched. ‘Not at the moment.’

She let her eyes trail slowly over his body. ‘You must move in exclusively male circles,’ she murmured.

He gave a short, appreciative laugh.

‘Touché.’ He raised his glass to her in a silent toast, and sipped the smooth red wine before setting the glass down and turning his attention back to her. ‘So, Miss Wells——’

‘Maggie.’

‘Maggie. What do you do to occupy your time when you aren’t gallivanting around the world with or without your matchmaking grandparent?’

She chuckled. ‘I work with children,’ she told him, half truthfully.

‘A teacher?’

‘No—I work in a hospital, actually.’

‘A nurse?’

‘No—I——’

‘Occupational therapist? Physio?’

She thought of the endless hours on duty, sometimes as many as a hundred and twenty hours a week. ‘Dogsbody, really,’ she replied with a tinge of bitter irony.

‘I’m sure they love you,’ he said, and she was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. ‘You have an openness, a frank honesty; kids like that.’

She thought of some of the painful procedures it was often her duty to perform, and shook her head. ‘I don’t know if they love me, but I do my best for them. It isn’t always enough.’

She glanced up and surprised a look of pain that twisted his features briefly.

‘No,’ he replied quietly. ‘It isn’t always enough, and sometimes it’s too much.’

She was saved from an inane reply by the arrival of the first course, a delicious hors-d’oeuvre.

She made her selection and nibbled the smoked salmon trout thoughtfully. So, her lightweight, playboy doctor had hidden depths, did he? Even more important, then, that she should keep a distance from him, because, while she could easily talk herself out of falling for an emotional lightweight, she had the uneasy feeling that for all his flirting Ben Bradshaw was anything but, and if they found too much common ground—well, it could be a disaster. She speared a king prawn with more force than was strictly necessary.

Maggie was no fool. She knew she was ripe for picking, but, having escaped the somewhat fumbled clutches of her generation of medical students, she was in no hurry now to hurl herself at the first half-decent man who came along—especially not one who was apparently in hiding from some demon in his past.

A hundred years ago, she mused, he might have joined the Foreign Legion. Now he was condemned to dishing out Kwells to pampered old ladies and bandaging the occasional twisted ankle resulting from an over-enthusiastic game of deck quoits!

And yet, despite her determination to keep her distance, as the food came and went and conversation ebbed and flowed around her, she found her glance straying to his face, and her thoughts straying to his words. She wondered what might have happened when his best had obviously been too much, and thought again of little Samuel Grainger whose fight had been so brief, and for whom her best had fallen a long way short of the mark.

‘Penny for them?’

She glanced quickly up, and saw that, above his smile, his eyes were concerned, as if her face had revealed too much. She shook her head. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. So tell me, Ben, what do I have to look forward to in the next few days?’

He laughed and eased back in his chair. ‘Almost anything. What would you like to do tonight—a quiet drink in the bar, flirting with Lady Luck in the casino, a film, or something romantic—dancing on deck in the moonlight, with the wind in your hair and the bright gleam of the phosphorescence leaving a sparkling trail in our wake?’

His voice had softened and deepened, and she was caught in the magnetic snare of his eyes, unable to look away.

‘That sounds almost too good to be true,’ she found herself saying, and then everyone was rising from the table and she was taking Ben’s arm, aware with every cell in her body of the sinuous strength of his muscles under the fine, soft wool of his white dress uniform.

They collected a drink from the bar and made their way out on deck. All around them people were talking softly and the air was filled with the tinkle of laughter and ice in glasses, murmured voices and sighs of delight.

They found a gap at the rail and stood together, and, due either to the slight motion of the ship or the unaccustomed alcohol, Maggie found herself swaying gently against his tall, hard body.

Ben took her empty glass and put it down, then grinned at her. ‘Come on,’ he whispered. ‘Perk of the job—I know somewhere quiet!’

They threaded their way through the laughing crowd, up a companionway and through a little gate marked ‘Authorised Personnel Only’, then they were out on the bows, watching the phosphorus turn the water a ghostly green as the ship sliced through the sea.

The hum of the engines and the splash of water drowned out the music and laughter they had left behind, and Ben moved up beside Maggie, wrapping his arm around her waist and easing her up against his side. The heat of the day was gone, and in the cooling breeze she was glad of the warmth of his body. The weight of his arm seemed so natural, so right, somehow. She relaxed against him and breathed deeply of the tropic night.

The air was rich with the salt tang of the sea and the smell of fresh paint, and every now and again she caught a glimpse of a flying fish leaping from the water, the phosphorescence trailing behind it like a tiny comet.

‘What a beautiful night,’ she sighed, and Ben’s arm tightened as he turned her into his embrace.

His face was sharply etched in the moonlight, and she watched the emotions play across it as he slowly pulled out her hairpins and shook her hair loose.

‘Absolutely beautiful,’ he murmured in response, and she knew in that second that he was going to kiss her.

I ought to run! she thought, but instead she tipped back her head to make it easier for him, and waited, fascinated, as his firm, full lips lowered and brushed against hers, teasing her with tiny, sipping kisses until her trembling sigh broke through his control and he threaded his fingers through her hair and steadied her against the onslaught of his mouth.

After what seemed like forever and yet wasn’t nearly long enough, he lifted his head and folded her against his chest, her head tucked neatly under his chin against the wild beating of his heart.

He held her there until his heart had slowed, and then he let her go, moving away to stand by the guard rail, his hands braced on the teak top rail, his head bowed.

‘We shouldn’t have done that,’ she said breathlessly, wondering if her legs would collapse without his support, and he lifted his head and met her eyes with a rueful grin.

‘You’re undoubtedly right, but I’m not going to apologise. You’re beautiful, Maggie, with your mermaid’s hair flowing round your shoulders and your eyes wide and innocent—they’re the colour of crushed pansies, did you know that? And your clear, pale skin—you’ll have to be careful not to burn.’ His finger trailed slowly over her bare shoulder and down her arm. ‘It would be a tragedy to mark that exquisite perfection.’

‘Has anybody ever told you you’ve got the smooth tongue of an Irishman?’ Maggie asked drily, to cover the wild leap of her heart.

Ben chuckled. ‘Just a natural ladies’ man,’ he said easily. ‘Come on, let me escort you back to the happy throng, then I must go and hand out more seasick pills. I saw a wave a moment ago—no doubt I’ll be the most popular man on board before long.’

His voice was tinged with irony, and Maggie looked up at him, catching a flash of discontent on his face.

‘Don’t you ever long to be involved in mainstream medicine again?’ she asked, and wasn’t surprised when his face went carefully blank.

‘Not often. It’s a wonderful life here, you know. Sun, sea, sand—even the occasional mermaid thrown in for good measure!’

She wasn’t fooled. ‘It sounds wonderful for a holiday, but I would have thought after a while it would be extremely boring.’

He gave a funny, twisted little laugh. ‘It has its moments. Come on, I’m afraid I really do have to go and see to my patients.’

As they made their way back across the sun-bleached deck that gleamed strangely white in the moonlight, Maggie felt suddenly very tired.

‘I think, actually, I’ll turn in now if you don’t mind. I’ve got rather a headache.’

‘It’s jet lag,’ he told her. ‘You’ll be all right in the morning.’

On the way back through the Penang Lounge, Rhoda spotted them and winked broadly. Oh, good grief, whatever would she think? And it would be worse if she watched them disappear together! Maggie, blushing slightly, turned to Ben and stopped him with a hand on his arm.

‘There’s someone I must have a word with. Thank you for—this evening.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he murmured, a smile playing in the corners of his eyes. ‘Can you find your way back to your cabin?’

‘I’m sure I will. Goodnight, Ben.’

‘Goodnight, my little mermaid. See you tomorrow.’

He turned away, and Maggie looked up to see Rhoda weaving her way across the room.

That’s him—the perfect man—absolutely splendid! How did you find him?’

Maggie shrugged and laughed. ‘I was sitting next to him for dinner. He’s the ship’s doctor. He’s been very—charming.’

Rhoda eyed her quizzically. ‘And did his charm smudge your lipstick and tumble your hair down over your shoulders and leave you looking so alive?’

Maggie flushed and lowered her eyes, and Rhoda laughed softly and patted her hand.

‘You enjoy it,’ she advised. ‘A little romance will do you the power of good.’

‘Yes, well, just now I feel like ten hours’ sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She made her way down to her cabin on Java Deck, taking the stairs as the lifts were all busy. Her mind on the magic of Ben’s kiss and the lingering feel of his hands in her hair, she lost her footing and tumbled inelegantly to the deck, landing with a soft cry.

‘You didn’t have to throw yourself at my feet,’ a familiar voice murmured. ‘A word would have been enough.’

‘Ouch,’ she muttered crossly. ‘Don’t fool around, Ben, I’ve hurt my ankle.’

‘Let me see,’ he said in a soothing voice, and carefully eased her leg straight. ‘It doesn’t seem too bad—let’s get you on to your bed and have a closer look. Where’s your cabin?’

She showed him the key, and he hoisted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her down the corridor.

‘Good job it’s not far,’ she joked, ‘I’d hate to put your back out!’

He laughed. ‘You weigh practically nothing,’ he told her. ‘We’ll have to see if we can’t get some flesh on your bones in the next few days.’

Oh, hell, she thought, that’s all it is. A few days. She wished she weren’t so headily conscious of the lingering scent of cologne that drifted towards her on his body’s warmth. His jaw was inches from her face, and she could see the faint trace of stubble roughening the skin. Her fingers itched to rasp against the slightly coarse texture, to feel the roughness of his jaw graze her skin as he trailed hot, lazy kisses down her throat——

‘Here we are—can you open the door?’

Jet lag! she thought, and wriggled round in his arms to put the key in the lock and turn it.

‘I’m sure I can walk,’ she said belatedly.

‘I’m sure you can, but until I’ve checked your ankle I’ve got a good excuse to hold you!’ he replied with a laugh, setting her down gently on one of the bunks.

‘Take your tights off,’ he told her, and turned away while she self-consciously wriggled out of them and tucked them under her pillow.

‘OK,’ she said, and he turned back and perched on the edge of the bunk, taking her ankle firmly but gently in his hands and rotating it carefully, studying her face as he did so.

She winced, and he nodded and put it down, much to her relief. His hands were cool and firm and very masculine, and she felt suddenly terribly conscious of his presence in her cabin. He was bigger than she had realised, not taller, but more solid, somehow.

He had shed his jacket and was wearing a crisp white shirt and tie, and his shoulders looked broader and very menacing—as menacing, that was, as he could manage to look with that little-boy grin and the wicked twinkle in his eye!

‘You’ll have to take it easy for a day or so—plenty of rest, all right?’

A little imp frolicked in her eyes. ‘I was going to dance till four in the morning, jog round the deck to clear my head, then play deck quoits till lunchtime.’

He smiled, slowly and wickedly. ‘If you don’t promise to be sensible I’ll have to lash you to the bed.’

‘That’ll make it very difficult for you to do as the captain told you and keep me company,’ she said without thinking, and his deep chuckle brought a flush to her cheeks.

‘I don’t know—it sounds as if it has definite possibilities!’ he murmured lazily, and suddenly he seemed menacing in quite another way—a way she found all too appealing.

‘Don’t be unprofessional,’ she said a little huskily. ‘Remember your hypocritic oath, Dr Bradshaw!’

He stood up suddenly, the smile wiped from his face. ‘That’s Hippocratic, and I’m well aware of its ramifications,’ he said harshly, and turned towards the door.

Maggie was astonished. What was wrong with him? ‘Ben?’

‘Take it easy for a day or two, and you’ll be fine. If you need any painkillers or you think it needs support, I’ll be in the medical centre. Goodnight.’

Her whispered ‘goodnight’ bounced off the closed door. What on earth had she said? She was joking. Was the Hippocratic oath in some way involved in the mystery of his past?

With a groan of frustration, she eased herself carefully off the edge of the bunk and prepared for bed, her thoughts full of Ben and his strange and apparently inconsistent behaviour.

What had happened to him?

And what was happening to her? She was in danger of becoming hopelessly involved with him—or she had been, until a thoughtless remark had sent him running for cover. Now she had probably lost her chance—and it was probably just as well.

With a sigh she climbed into bed and fell instantly, dreamlessly asleep.

Maggie woke with a dull ache in her left ankle, and for a while she considered Ben’s advice to take it easy, but with only eight days of the cruise left it seemed too sensible for words.

Throwing back the bedclothes, she swung her legs over the side and stood up. So far so good. Gingerly, she tested her weight on the bad ankle. Uh-uh! Not so smart. She sat down again.

Rats, she thought. I’ll have to take it easy after all.

Hopping carefully, she got herself ready in shorts and T-shirt over her bikini, grabbed a little hold-all with sunscreen, a beach-towel and a good book and set off for the lift at a steady limp.

Emerging on to Malacca Deck, she made her way to the Frangipani Room where she could hear the unmistakable sound of breakfast being served.

The steward asked her her cabin number and escorted her to a table for six with a lovely view out over the water. She was the only person at the table, and was feeling self-conscious when Rhoda appeared at her side.

‘Got any room for me? I have the distinct feeling that the people on my table are going to turn out to be the most crashing bores imaginable—and anyway, I want to ask you all sorts of searching personal questions about that lovely man!’

Maggie laughed. ‘Come and join me—you can have my grandmother’s seat, I’m sure. Actually I was feeling a bit lost.’

Rhoda nodded understandingly. ‘Yes, it was a long time after I was widowed before I felt quite at home in a restaurant on my own. So tell me—how did you get on with him?’

Maggie fiddled with her cutlery. ‘Quite well at first, but I seem to have said something that’s upset him.’

‘He didn’t look upset last night!’

‘No, it was later,’ Maggie explained, and gave Rhoda an edited version.

‘Oh, you poor thing! Darling, how simply rotten for you—is it agony?’

‘Not really,’ Maggie laughed. ‘In fact sitting like this I can hardly feel it. It’s only when I stand or walk—oh, lord, there he is!’

Rhoda swivelled her head and gave Ben the benefit of her ten-megawatt smile as he crossed the room towards them. In normal day-dress of crisp white shorts, short-sleeved open-necked white shirt and white shoes and socks, he looked even better, if possible, than he had in formal evening dress. Rhoda whistled quietly under her breath.

‘Good morning, Doctor,’ she purred as he drew level with them, and Ben gave her a slightly strained smile and pulled out the chair next to Maggie.

‘Good morning,’ he replied, and sat down sideways on the chair, facing Maggie. ‘Hi. How’s the patient today?’

She smiled to ease the tension and tried not to stare. ‘Not too bad. I’m going to take your advice, though.’

‘Good.’

He paused, and Rhoda stood up, her brilliant smile in place. ‘Will you children excuse me? I’ve just seen someone I want a word with—won’t be a mo.’

She flitted across the room, scarf trailing colour-fully, and they watched her go.

Then Maggie turned back to Ben and touched his hand. ‘About last night—I’m sorry I implied you were being unprofessional. It was unforgivable.’

‘You were absolutely right——’

‘No, I wasn’t! After all that had gone before, you were acting as a friend with medical knowledge giving first aid, rather than the ship’s doctor giving a formal consultation. I was only teasing. I’m sorry you took me seriously.’

He was silent for a moment, and then he looked up with a rueful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, too. I’m inclined to over-react. You just hit a nerve. Anyway, I’m the ship’s doctor before I’m anything else, and it wouldn’t hurt to remember it. With my entertainment duties it’s a fine line that’s often blurred—but never more so than with you.’ He sighed. ‘Where are you spending the day?’

‘I thought I’d find a shady spot on deck and read—maybe swim?’

‘Mind you don’t burn.’

She hefted her hold-all. ‘I’ve got some factor twenty-five sunscreen in here.’

‘You’ll need it. Have a lovely day. I’ll see you later.’

He stood up, waved to Rhoda and left the room.

Rhoda excused herself and came straight back.

‘Well? Did you sort out your little disagreement?’

Maggie had to smile. ‘I think we may have done. Ah, here’s the steward—shall we order?’

It was a long, lazy day, and Ben drifted in and out of it with a smile and a wave, pausing sometimes to top up Maggie’s sunscreen cream or check on the progress of her ankle.

It made it very difficult to keep him at a distance, because, while she hadn’t wanted to leave matters so there was bad feeling between them, on the other hand she didn’t want to encourage his attentions to the point where he would think an affair was inevitable—because it wasn’t.

At least she told herself that, but when he perched on the end of her sunbed and grasped her ankle firmly in his large, warm hands, smoothing the skin with his thumbs while his hair-roughened thigh brushed against her calf and his eyes sent wicked messages to her fevered imagination, it was hard to believe that she would have the strength to turn away from him if he ever really tried to seduce her.

At four o’clock she went back down to her cabin for a rest before dinner, and then dressed with extra care, refusing to admit to herself that it had anything to do with a certain tall, blond doctor who had insinuated himself into her life.

It was New Year’s Eve, and in five hours they would be crossing the Equator. The promised party would undoubtedly be riotous and trail on until the morning, and she just hoped her ankle would stand up to it. Not that it mattered. No one would be affected if she slipped quietly away just after midnight.

Except maybe Ben.