Dmitri was so soundly asleep that he barely stirred when she slid out of his embrace

With the highs and lows of emotion he’d gone through in one evening, it was hardly surprising that he was exhausted, she thought, as she hurried into her clothes.

Unable to bear the thought of leaving without some sort of farewell, she grabbed an empty envelope from the wastepaper basket beside his desk to pen a brief note.

Her heart was so full of all the things she wanted to say that knowing where to begin was hard. In the end, all she could do was stick to the two most important points.

“I love you. I’ll miss you,” she wrote, unhappy to discover that she’d already started crying when a tear splashed onto the words.

She didn’t dare look back at him as she tried to prop the note somewhere he would find it as soon as he woke. Then there was no more time to lose….

Dear Reader,

Lauren, in the first book of this duet, More Than Caring, has grown self-sufficient because she has no family to rely on. Laurel, by comparison, is being smothered by a family who seems to criticize her every move. Small wonder that she keeps her thoughts and feelings to herself.

Sometimes it’s as if her much-loved nursing career is the only thing that maintains her sanity, and as for her growing relationship with Dmitri…

Then her life takes a sinister turn, and with more than her own survival at stake, she has to leave him without ever telling him how much she cares.

Suddenly she is on her own again in a race against time, trying to decide which is more important—her unknown twin or the man she loves.

I hope you enjoy unraveling her secrets.

Josie

More than a Gift
Josie Metcalfe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

COVER

Dear Reader

TITLE PAGE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

‘I DID it,’ Laurel breathed jubilantly, finally allowing her tense shoulders to slump with relief. ‘I got away again.’

It felt as if she’d been driving for hours with her eyes glued to the rear-view mirror, her dread increasing with every big black car that appeared behind her.

Desperate to get as far away as possible, she’d pushed on until darkness had begun to fall and even then had barely dared to stop long enough to visit the Ladies’ room. Perhaps it had been the failing light or the worsening weather or maybe her ploy of hiding her car among the enormous trucks that had put whoever was tailing her off the scent. She’d probably never know, but she was grateful for any piece of good luck that gave her the chance to get to the end of this journey.

After more than a year of searching she’d finally felt that she was on the right track, but she wouldn’t really know until she reached Edenthwaite.

‘Not that I know whether I’m even going in the right direction,’ she muttered with a scowl, peering out through the windscreen at the worsening visibility.

The narrow road she was following suddenly twisted into another series of bends and she tightened her grip on the steering-wheel.

It would have been far easier and faster if she’d been able to stay on the motorway for another half-hour or so, especially with the first spits of rain misting the windows, but she hadn’t dared. To have come so close to the hospital where Lauren worked only to be stopped before she could meet her…well, it didn’t bear thinking about. It would mean that everything she’d suffered through her miserable childhood had been a waste of time, especially now that she knew why her father…

‘No! He’s not my father!’ she spat angrily, still incensed by the pretence she’d unwittingly been living all her life.

All those years of wondering why she was so unlovable that he’d barely spared her a word unless it had been to criticise and demean. All those years of trying so hard to turn herself into the daughter he wanted her to be, a daughter he would approve of.

Even now, a year after the revelation, she could hardly credit the simple series of events that had finally exposed the deception.

It had been sheer fluke that she’d seen the letter addressed to her before it had been taken through to his study with the rest of the mail. She had no doubt, now, that the contents would have been destroyed if he had seen them first. Then she would never have discovered that she’d been adopted, or that there was another—

‘Damn!’ she exclaimed, her rambling thoughts brought to an abrupt end as the back end of the car slewed without warning, the wheels spinning frantically for several seconds before they regained traction.

Careful to keep her foot well away from both brake and accelerator, she allowed the car to slow naturally, her hands shaking as she tentatively straightened the wheels. Surely the temperature hadn’t dropped enough, yet, for black ice to have started to form on the road.

She risked a quick glance at her watch and did some mental calculations, immeasurably relieved when she realised that she must be little more than five or so miles from Edenthwaite now.

Tentatively, she pressed on the accelerator again, reassured by the tyres’ renewed grip on the road. She should arrive safely long before the weather became a real problem, even if it was dark by the time she reached her destination.

She’d only travelled another mile when the dark car swung around the bend in front of her, travelling far too fast for the road conditions. Almost in slow motion, Laurel saw the moment when the driver lost control, his headlights veering towards the unforgiving stone wall at the side of the road. The tyres squealed and she held her breath as he tried to steer the heavy vehicle out of the skid. For just a second she thought he’d been successful, only to realise that he was now heading straight towards her.

Reflexively, she twisted the wheel, her only thought to avoid the impending crash.

Suddenly everything was happening too fast for her to register each individual event. She had an impression of hands frantically turning the steering-wheel in the other car, eyes and mouth open in matching horror, her own car striking the limestone wall a glancing blow as the black car screeched its way along her paintwork.

Then the black car disappeared from her sight as her car began to spin. It seemed as if she was whirling around for ever, going faster and faster as she travelled down the slope of the hill. The headlights picked out a wildly spinning kaleidoscope of images right up till she broadsided the wall for a second time, then all she could see was the dark arc of the sky as the car toppled onto its side, crashing through the top of the wall and down into the field below.

‘OhGod, OhGod, OhGod,’ Laurel heard herself whimpering when everything finally stopped moving and she realised she was still alive.

It took her a moment to catch her breath and realise that she was virtually suspended from her seat belt, hanging almost completely upside down. Even so, something made her grab hold of the steering-wheel to drag herself close enough to switch off the engine.

It was awkward to reach, especially as she had to be careful not to cause any further damage with the restricting seat belt.

‘Was that the right thing to do?’ she whispered into the sudden silence, curving her hands protectively around herself. One half of her brain was telling her that it was the best way to minimise the risk of fire. She didn’t yet know how long it was going to take to clamber out of her awkward position. Having survived the crash, she certainly didn’t want to burn to death. There was more than her own life at stake here.

It wasn’t until she realised how completely dark it was outside now that she wondered if she might have made a mistake.

Without the engine switched on, she couldn’t have any of the lights on, so no one would be able to see her.

‘Especially with the car tucked behind the wall like this,’ she muttered as she craned her neck to try to look around.

The car gave a metallic groan as it shifted in response to her movement and she froze, suddenly aware that while she knew there was a wall close to one side of the car she had absolutely no idea what lay the other side.

Long-ago geography lessons flashed into her mind and she actually remembered drawing diagrams to explain the way glaciation had shaped the scenery around Edenthwaite.

‘Flat-bottomed, U-shaped valleys with steep sides,’ she whispered, the illustrations clear in her head. She groaned when she remembered looking at the map that morning as she’d planned the fastest route north. She’d seen the switchback wriggles of the smaller side roads as they fought their way up out of one valley and over the rocky limestone tops before plunging in an equally dizzying drop into the next.

Depending which bit of road she was on when that car had headed straight for her, the scene outside her window could be a flat valley floor, a limestone pavement at a thousand or more feet up, or any point in between.

‘Well, whatever’s out there, I can’t stay here all night,’ she declared firmly. ‘It would be one thing to stay with the car if I’d broken down at the side of the road, but if I just hang around in here, I might still be waiting for help when Christmas comes.’ She gave a wry chuckle at her unintentional pun. ‘Hanging around…like a bauble on a Christmas tree.’

She stretched out one hand to reach for the release mechanism for her belt, needing to relieve the pressure across her body. She was going to have some bruises but at least the belt had prevented her from sustaining a broken neck.

‘And how about you?’ she murmured softly, still cradling the swell of her belly with her other hand while she tried to work out how to release the seat belt. ‘I bet you’re glad you were cushioned by all that amniotic fluid.’

As if in answer, a tiny limb gave her hand a resounding thump.

Laurel smiled as she circled the spot with her fingertips. ‘All right. It shouldn’t be long before I get us out of here…although what difference it will make to you, I don’t know. You seem to have spent the last few months turning somersaults, so hanging upside down is no novelty.’

Frustrated with her lack of success with the belt, she twisted to get her other hand close enough to help and the car shuddered again, this time almost feeling as if it had shifted a little way along the ground.

Laurel froze again with her heart in her mouth. For several endless seconds she held her breath, only releasing it when all stayed still and quiet.

Only it wasn’t quite quiet. There was a strange new ticking sound, now that she concentrated. It wasn’t the sound of the engine cooling down, or the regular metallic sort of sound that a clock would make. It was far softer and more random against the window beside her.

It took her several moments to track the source down, and the answer sent a shiver down her spine.

‘It’s started snowing!’ she whimpered.

She’d thought it too dark outside to see anything but as she stared in disbelief at the swirling flickers of brightness that had begun to land on the window beside her head, she knew she’d been wrong.

So far, most of it seemed to be whirling around in the air. There was little more than a sprinkle settling on the ground or over the vehicle, but that could change all too quickly.

‘Please…no! Don’t do this to me!’ she moaned.

Her situation had been bad enough before. If it carried on snowing, it would become impossible.

She shivered as she forced herself to take an inventory.

‘For a start, it’s getting colder,’ she stated aloud, knowing that it wasn’t just because she didn’t dare risk running the car heater. ‘And if it keeps snowing, not only will it cover the car, but it’ll cover up any signs of where I went off the road, so no one will know where to look.’

Another sound interrupted her, so unexpected that it took her several seconds to realise what it was.

‘A car!’ she shrieked when her brain finally put all the clues together. ‘There’s a car coming!’

She wriggled forward, trying to reach far enough to sound the horn. It was easier to see what she was aiming for now, as the approaching headlights reflected off the walls on either side of the road to spill into the topsy-turvy compartment.

A sudden flash of light swept across her as the headlights poured through the gateway further along the wall and caught her mirror just as she found the horn.

The sight of the dark silhouette behind the lights was just ominous enough to make her hesitate and the opportunity was lost.

‘You stupid woman,’ she railed as the vehicle swept on by without a pause. ‘So what if it was them? At least you’d have some hope of getting out of here alive.’

For a moment she felt utterly helpless and had to fight the threat of tears. Was this what it had all come to? That unhappy childhood and the steadily increasing desperation of her teenage years when she’d actually begun to believe that her mind was unbalanced. Then the revelations in that letter and her determination to find out if they were true.

She’d come so close. In fact, she was almost certain that Lauren Scott was the one person who would be willing to fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle. Lauren, who lived about five miles away from this very spot and might as well have been five thousand for all the good it did.

A swift kick just under her ribs broke into her dismal train of thoughts with a jolt, and a second one was enough to stiffen her resolve.

‘You’re right,’ she muttered with new determination. ‘I’ve come this far and I’m not giving up now. After all, I’ve got you to think about.’

She snatched a shallow breath, anything deeper being impossible while hanging in this position, and twisted towards the seat-belt release, resolved not to let it beat her this time.

She’d completely forgotten about the way the car rocked when she moved too quickly, and this time freezing in position when the metal panels groaned wasn’t enough. With a lurch and a shudder she felt the vehicle shift towards the unknown blackness outside, the momentum growing as it began to roll.

‘No!’ she screamed, helplessly trying to brace herself against the movement, even though she knew she was powerless to prevent it happening.

With the unearthly groaning and crashing going on all around her, the car rolled from its side to its roof and almost onto the other side while Laurel was tossed as helplessly as a puppet on a string.

She was utterly convinced that the next revolution would take her over the edge of an escarpment to her death in the valley far below, but then her head swung into the frame of the door beside her and everything went black.

Dmitri glared out at the snow swirling across the road in front of him and swore out loud.

‘That’s all I needed,’ he groaned, deliberately reverting to English. He tried reminding himself that there would be a great deal more snow than this in his native country, but it didn’t help his temper.

‘If only I’d done something about it as soon as I saw her car,’ he muttered. ‘Now, who knows which road she’s taken. It could be months before I get that close again.’

Hearing the words aloud made him pause.

Months?

Was he really willing to put his life on hold while he searched the length and breadth of the country to track the wretched woman down again? It had taken him two weeks just to track down which hospital she’d been working at last, and it had taken all the charm he’d been able to muster to persuade one of her neighbours to remember that she’d mentioned a possible Christmas break in Cumbria.

He couldn’t imagine the magnitude of the coincidence that had put the two of them on the same motorway at exactly the same time…and then he’d lost her again.

So, he had a decision to make. He had another two weeks before he had to make a decision about the date of his return to work in Russia, two weeks that he could spend visiting Babushka Ana and getting his life in order, or he could spend it trying to complete his search for Laurel.

He’d come so close this afternoon that he could almost have reached out and touched her car. If he hadn’t decided to bide his time…

But did he really want to spend two precious weeks chasing down a woman who’d left him without a backward glance? Shouldn’t he go back to Babushka Ana as soon as possible? She’d been so frail last time he’d seen her. Who knew how long she had left?

Not that she knew who he was half the time, but still…she had been the one constant in his life for so many years that he couldn’t help the guilt when he thought of her days passing endlessly without family to visit her.

But if a few more days or weeks meant finding out what had happened to Laurel, why she’d disappeared like that…

As ever, her image was clear in his mind—the long, softly curling hair that made him think of Christmas angels, the sweetly expressive face and those fascinating amber eyes. It had been the hidden shadows in those eyes that had first caught his attention a year ago when he’d joined the staff at the hospital where she’d just been finishing her training.

Not that she’d done anything to attract his attention. Far from it.

In fact, it had taken him several weeks of concerted effort before he’d realised that, far from downplaying her beauty, she’d actually been totally oblivious to it.

He still marvelled at her innocence, and the unexpectedly passionate way she’d responded to him, even as he railed at the way she’d suddenly disappeared from the hospital and his life, apparently uncaring of the fact that they had an ongoing relationship.

It was that relationship and, yes, he wasn’t too proud to admit it, a measure of injured ego that had prompted him to spend this time trying to find out why she’d left.

But was he willing to spend more weeks tracking Laurel down? The heat that poured through him when he remembered the way she’d responded to his kisses gave him his answer. Yes, he was, even if he gained no more than the satisfaction of finding out why she’d run away.

The heat became the slow burn of anger and determination that had prompted him to plan his final quest during the last days of his job in England, and had accompanied him throughout his search. Then the car wheels gave a sudden slew sideways and he had to drag his concentration back to the road. He wouldn’t be in a fit state to search for anyone if he were trapped in a heap of crumpled metal at the side of the road.

‘How much further is it to this place?’ he muttered, not even daring to glance at the map he’d left open on the passenger seat beside him. ‘What was it called? Something that made me think of the Garden of Eden.’

He pulled a face at the dimly perceived scenery through which he was passing. It had looked quite spectacular until the light had faded and the snow had started falling. Now it looked far from idyllic, just somewhere on the road to…Edenthwaite! That was it! Although why Laurel wanted to go there was way beyond him.

He’d been so sure that she’d been enjoying her work as a newly qualified nurse, and enjoying the relationship they’d been forging together. Obviously, he’d been wrong or she wouldn’t have left like that, without even a word to…

‘What was that?’ He took his foot off the pedal and peered towards the ragged top of the stone wall beside him and the metallic flash that had caught his eye.

As it receded in his rear-view mirror he realised that someone must have crashed into it at some time because the flash had been a reflection from broken shards of glass or a mirror.

‘Thank goodness it didn’t happen tonight,’ he murmured when he noted the lack of tyre tracks in the layer of snow beginning to gather across the road and on the limestone blocks that made up the bordering walls. ‘I pity anyone who crashes up here tonight. If the snow keeps falling like this, it could be days before anyone finds them.’

With new caution in each movement, he allowed the car to pick up a bit of speed again. There was no point loitering in the middle of nowhere in this weather when he could be booking into the hotel in Edenthwaite.

‘I’ll make some phone calls tonight to find out where she’s staying. If she was making for Edenthwaite, it’s probably because she’s hoping to get a job in the hospital, or she’s about to take up a post there. By tomorrow, I should be able to start asking some questions,’ he said firmly. ‘There must be some reason why she’s been moving about so much—some reason why she was heading in this particular direction—and I’m going to find out what it is.’

Then, perhaps, he’d be able to go back to Russia with a clear conscience. At least he wouldn’t be left with the nagging feeling that he should have tried just a little harder to find the woman who was never very far from his mind.

‘Where are all the cars when I need them?’ Laurel groaned, her eyes fixed on the cock-eyed view in the mirror. At least she wasn’t totally upside down any more. The car seemed to be on its side.

The cold had seeped into the car slowly at first but there was no heat left at all now. She was shivering all the time, and her head was aching after the collision with the door frame. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious but her brain was still functioning well enough to appreciate the irony of the situation.

‘After all this time of keeping a low profile and making sure I don’t do anything to draw attention to myself,’ she groaned. How many times had she caught sight of her pursuer and known that it had been time to move on yet again? It must be four or five times since she’d read that letter and realised the significance of it.

Not that she had realised the full significance until she’d made a few enquiries. The whole thing had seemed utterly fantastic…totally unbelievable…until she’d taken a chance and had barged into the lawyer’s office without the courtesy of an appointment and had demanded some straight answers.

‘I’m a twin,’ she whispered, feeling the smile spread over her chilly face again, the delight growing with each repetition. ‘She’s somewhere out there—in Edenthwaite, perhaps—and when I find her, I’ll finally be able to get the answers to fill in all the rest of the pieces to the puzzle.’

And there were so many questions, more with every day that had passed since she’d read that fateful letter.

Her mother’s letter.

Her real mother.

She had a copy of it with her now, sewn into the lining of her coat, but for safekeeping had lodged the original and the will and birth certificates that had accompanied it with her mother’s solicitor until she completed her search.

She didn’t need to see the faded script on the first page to recall the heartbroken words, apparently written just hours after she’d given birth and had had to watch her precious babies being taken away for others to nurture into adulthood.

The first time she’d read the letter, she’d been shocked, then overwhelmed with anger at the deception that had shaped her life. It had taken her several months before she’d been able to find sympathy in her heart for the mother who had abandoned her then deliberately distanced herself from any contact.

Laurel closed her eyes against the hot prick of tears, cradling her hands over the swell of her own child. It hadn’t been until she’d realised that she was pregnant and had felt that instant flood of maternal love that she’d been able to understand how a mother would do anything to make sure her child was taken care of, even give her up for adoption.

She was just grateful that society had changed enough in the last twenty-eight years that she could make her own choices, not have them forced upon her by appalled family and friends.

And they would be appalled if they knew what she’d been doing for the last year.

She gave a brief wry chuckle when she realised just how close to twelve months it had been since she’d left the only home she’d known and had tried to disappear.

It would be Christmas in just a few days, and exactly one year ago she’d been a meekly dutiful part of the lavish planning and preparations for her wedding.

She still didn’t know whether Grant had been privy to her father…no, not her father…to Robert Wainwright’s machinations. When she’d realised what had been going on, she hadn’t paused even long enough to leave him a note and hadn’t dared to contact him in the meantime.

Not that she believed for a moment that she’d left Grant with a broken heart. As far as she could tell, theirs had been a marriage brokered solely in pursuit of financial gain.

One thing that had persuaded her into agreeing to it had been the fact that she would finally be escaping from Robert’s incessant criticism. It would be such a relief not to have to pretend any more that she was still taking those wretched tablets and to be able to live her own life. The fact that she would finally be able to wholeheartedly follow the nursing profession she’d fought so hard for had been enough to convince her to accept Grant’s proposal.

It wasn’t as if she’d had any other suitors lining up, not with Robert keeping an eagle eye on every spare moment when she hadn’t been on duty. Anyway, she’d never really wanted a man in her life. A lifetime under the overbearing control of one had made her wary about any sort of social interaction. It had been enough for her that she’d finally completed her training as a nurse.

Laurel sighed when she remembered just how long she’d had to campaign to be allowed to apply for a place and her surprise when her mother…no, not her mother, Robert’s wife, had added her weight to the argument in her favour.

She would always see the day of her interview as a milestone in her life. For a few moments she’d wondered if she’d made an enormous mistake when she’d explained in detail how she’d become addicted to tranquillisers and the steps she’d taken to rid herself of the problem.

Looking back, she believed that it had been her willingness to consider herself on probation and the offer to permit blood tests at any time to confirm that she was ‘clean’ that had prompted them to give her the chance she’d wanted.

Those years had been hard work but she didn’t regret a single bedpan. Not only had they given her a way to escape the poisonous atmosphere that seemed to surround her whenever she was in the same room as Robert Wainwright, they’d also made her realise that she’d found the purpose to her life.

And that wasn’t all. There was another, even more important reason.

If she hadn’t fought to get out from under Robert Wainwright’s thumb—if she hadn’t insisted that she wanted to train as a nurse—she’d never have been in the right place at the right time to meet Dmitri.

This time the smile was bitter-sweet, muted by the pang of loss that surrounded her heart.

It hurt to know that never again would she see the man she loved. After the way she’d had to leave him, he probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her, but that didn’t mean that she regretted meeting him. Far from it.

Laurel didn’t need to have him in front of her to be able to picture him perfectly, starting with those mesmerising eyes.

CHAPTER TWO

‘EXCUSE me?’

Fear had been Laurel’s first reaction at being accosted, and she’d frozen. It had always been her first emotion in those days. Fear that someone had finally seen behind her deception and tracked her down. She hadn’t seen how they could have, since she’d changed the name she was known by on the ward, but still, with the necessity of at least one person in the admin department knowing her legal name so that she’d been able to be paid, there had always been a risk that something could get back to Robert Wainwright.

The softly spoken voice behind her had a definite accent but it wasn’t one that Laurel recognised. Neither did she recognise the shiver of awareness that the velvety sound had on her nerves.

She forced herself to turn, and looked up into the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen.

They were grey, but not like any grey she’d ever seen before. They didn’t look the cold colour of steel but almost as if they carried the searing heat of molten silver, and set against the intriguing slant of lean cheeks and surrounded by long dark lashes they seemed more mysterious than ever.

For several long seconds Laurel stared into them, almost mesmerised by their intensity. It wasn’t until he blinked that those sinfully long lashes broke the spell and she realised that she hadn’t said a word.

‘I’m sorry. Can I help you?’ At least she hadn’t dropped the armful of clean sheets she was carrying.

‘I hope so. Can you tell me, which way to ryebyonak?’

‘Ryeby—what?’ Laurel asked, wondering if her brain was so scrambled that she couldn’t understand simple English any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said with a rueful grin. ‘I was thinking of home—of Russia—and sometimes the wrong words come out. I should have said I was looking for the…the babies. Neonatal department.’

‘I’m going that way myself. I can show you,’ she offered, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. His eyes had hardly left her face since she’d turned round and she was now wondering if she’d got a coffee moustache, or something. She would have to check as soon as she had a moment. It was imperative that she didn’t draw even the most innocent attention to herself, not until she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do.

‘Here. Let me take those for you,’ he offered, and before she even realised what he was going to do, let alone argue about the need, he’d scooped the heavy pile of linen out of her arms and tucked them easily under one arm.

And all she could think about was the fact that she could smell the scent of soap on his skin.

‘You work in the department?’ he asked as they set off, and she wondered if he was having to shorten his stride to allow her to keep up with him. She wasn’t particularly short at five feet eight, but guessed that he must be at least six feet and probably an inch or two more.

And every inch of it seemed as lean and powerful as one of those swimmers she’d seen on television, practising for the next Olympics. He might be dressed in a smart charcoal-grey suit and white shirt at the moment, but she could just imagine what he’d look like in a pair of those skin-tight shorts, or…

Whoa! Enough!

What on earth was happening to her? She’d never been the sort to fantasise about men, let alone naked men. And all he’d done had been to carry a pile of sheets and ask her…

‘Oh, yes!’ she said hurriedly, suddenly realising that he was still waiting for an answer. ‘I work on the neonatal ward—well, I’ve only recently started in the department. It’s my first post since I qualified.’

‘And was this an assignment, or was it something that you have chosen?’

His expression was so intent that she could almost imagine that her answer mattered more than if it was just for the sake of conversation.

‘Oh, I chose it,’ she said, feeling quite flustered. She just wasn’t accustomed to being the focus of anyone’s attention, unless they were looking to find fault. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.’

‘I hope it meets your expectations,’ he said with a thoughtful nod, then continued softly, so softly that, coloured by his exotic accent, she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him correctly, ‘You will be good for the babies.’

That had sounded like a compliment, something else that she wasn’t accustomed to hearing and had no idea how to respond to. Thank goodness they had reached the ward.

‘Sister should be in her office. Shall I show you where…?’

‘No, thank you. That won’t be necessary,’ he said with a smile that almost had her swallowing her tongue. This man was more deadly than anything the old Soviet Union might have once had in its nuclear arsenal. ‘I can find my way around the ward. I just have trouble finding my way around the hospital at the moment.’

He relinquished his hold on the pile of sheets.

‘Perhaps you need to drop a trail of breadcrumbs so you can find your way back,’ she suggested with a grin of her own, only realising how flippant she must have sounded when she reached the linen cupboard. That was hardly the right way to go about keeping a low profile.

‘Get a grip on yourself,’ she muttered under her breath as she stacked the shelves neatly. They couldn’t afford to run low on clean linen when their patients were among the most fragile and susceptible to infection in the whole hospital.

At least disposable nappies had eliminated one set of supply problems. She could just imagine how many traditional cloth ones would have been used in a day.

Now she needed to let Sister know that she’d returned from her errand and find out about her next task. That was one thing about working in a busy unit like this, there was so much going on and so many things to do that she was learning something new every day. Still, it would be nice when she was proficient enough to do more than assist her more senior colleagues.

‘Roll on the day when I’m not one of the lowest of the low,’ she murmured. Having had to fight to be allowed to do her nursing training, she was several years older than most newly qualified staff, and she was human enough to feel a twinge of resentment when she was being ordered to do relatively menial tasks by much younger women. ‘And as there’s no way I’ll be moving up the ladder until they’re sure that I’m competent enough, that situation can only be remedied by time and hard work.’

She consciously straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. The fact that her flight from home had also cost her the plum post she’d been offered at the hospital where she’d done her training was just another thing to lay at her family’s feet. At least her ‘record’ as a former tranquilliser addict was in the past, buried by the hospital at which she’d done her training. They’d actually told her that after watching her closely over the last three years, they had no fear that it would ever interfere with her work.

‘Ah, there she is, Sister Richards! My rescuer!’ exclaimed a newly familiar voice, and Laurel’s breath caught in her throat.

‘Thank you for rescuing him for me, Laurel. I wouldn’t want to lose him,’ her superior said, but although she was speaking to Laurel, her eyes never left the lean man at her side.

Laurel could all too easily understand why, especially if he was in the habit of smiling like that. What she didn’t know was whether there was something of a personal nature between the two of them, neither did she know why just the thought of it made her feel strangely hollow inside.

‘We didn’t introduce ourselves properly,’ he said, completely ignoring Melanie Richards’s possessive-sounding words as he held a hand out towards Laurel.

‘Oh, she’s Laurel Wright, one of our most junior staff,’ her superior said dismissively, her eyes still fixed on the man like a starving woman gazing at a giant box of Belgian chocolates. ‘This is Dr Ros—Rostro—’

‘Rostropovich,’ he supplied, tightening his hand fractionally around Laurel’s when she would have withdrawn it immediately. ‘Dmitri Rostropovich. It would probably be easier if you called me—’

‘Pleased to meet you, Dr Rostropovich,’ Laurel said without any difficulty, and had to fight a smile at her superior’s visible chagrin. Stumbling over pronouncing his name was all the evidence Laurel had needed that they were not as close as the younger woman wanted them to be. ‘Do you spell that the same way as the famous cellist?’

Having retrieved her hand, she wrapped the other one around it, surprised that she couldn’t feel the flash of heat that had been generated when his hand had touched hers. She was going to have to revise her scepticism over those scenes in romance novels where there was an electric connection between the hero and heroine the first time they touched.

Not that she was anybody’s heroine, least of all his.

‘It’s spelt exactly the same, although I don’t think there’s any family connection. Do you like his music?’

‘Some of it, especially his recording of—’

‘Laurel doesn’t really have time to stand chatting about music,’ Melanie Richards pointed out with a disgruntled scowl. ‘It’s time for Staff Nurse Norris to go for her break, isn’t it, Nurse? You’re supposed to be taking over monitoring baby Sweeny, aren’t you?’

It was news to Laurel but she wasn’t about to turn down the chance to do some hands-on nursing for a change. Up till this moment Sister Richards had seemed to be deliberately keeping her to menial tasks.

‘Perhaps we will be able to talk of music another time,’ Dmitri said politely as Laurel turned to cross the ward towards her charge. ‘In the meantime, if you will permit, I will come with you to have a look at this baby Sweeny who needs monitoring.’

Laurel caught a glimpse of the hastily hidden flash of anger in her superior’s eyes and blinked in surprise.

Surely the woman realised that it had been a purely professional decision for the good-looking doctor to accompany her? Melanie was a beautiful young woman with the sort of curves that Laurel could only sigh for. After all those years of ‘blunt speaking’ by Robert Wainwright, she knew only too well that she had few charms to attract a man’s eye. Least of all now, when she was being so careful not to draw attention to herself. If Robert Wainwright tracked her down before she found her sister, her rebellion would all have been in vain. She had no doubt that the man would be desperate enough by now to resort to all sorts of underhand tactics to achieve his aim.

Her heart gave a thud of fear before she deliberately set her thoughts on a different track…such as the handsome doctor’s completely unexpected response towards her.

Had her attempts at merging into the background completely failed today? Dmitri Rostropovich’s eyes seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time looking in her direction. And the only reason she knew that was because, even though her hands were busy noting down the readings of Jason Sweeny’s temperature, blood pressure and pulse from the electronic monitors onto his charts, her own gaze seemed magnetically attracted to him.

Unfortunately, Jason’s mother, who had rarely left his bedside once she’d been released from her own, had noticed her preoccupation.

‘He’s a good looker, isn’t he, Nurse?’ she prompted slyly, and Laurel felt the flush of heat travelling inexorably upward from her throat to her tightly restrained hair. How could she have forgotten just how sharp-eyed some people could be when there wasn’t much else to watch?

She bit her tongue as she hung the clipboard on the end of the high-tech trolley, hoping desperately to find some way of avoiding an answer.

‘Well, Nurse?’ he prompted, startling her into looking up into the wicked gleam in his eyes. He’d leaned himself against the column supporting the monitor displays while he’d chatted easily with Mrs Sweeny. Now he’d folded his arms across his chest as though he had the whole day to wait for her answer. ‘Do you agree with Mrs Sweeny?’

The pair of them exchanged a telling glance, grey eyes meeting blue, each knowing that they had put her on the spot.

Laurel felt the familiar anxiety start to swamp her, the feeling that she just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. And what was worse, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from him.

If he could read her thoughts and feelings in her eyes, what would he think of her cowardly nature?

He wouldn’t know about the years she’d spent as the butt of Robert Wainwright’s caustic wit. Then, defiance had only earned her the label of ‘disturbed child’ and another handful of tranquillisers.

In the end, her only defence had been silence and stoicism while her resentment had grown, and in her undrugged moments her determination to find some way out of the destructive situation.

Then, for the first time in her life, she felt a sudden surge of something new. She didn’t know what it was or what was causing it. Could it be something to do with the expression in a certain pair of liquid silver eyes?

‘I suppose he’s quite good-looking, Mrs Sweeny,’ she admitted grudgingly. She flicked her gaze over him from head to foot and back again, his elegant grey suit doing more to enhance his lean physique than disguise it, then made sure there was more than a hint of doubt in her intonation. ‘That’s if you like them long and skinny.’

Mrs Sweeny burst out laughing.

‘That told you, didn’t it?’ She laughed gleefully up at Dmitri Rostropovich, her perpetually worried eyes brightening briefly with a flash of humour. ‘I’m so glad that we women are getting a chance to put a man in his place these days.’

Laurel found herself holding her breath, waiting for his response. What on earth had possessed her to talk to him like that? Apart from the foolishness of drawing attention to herself, she knew better than to provoke a man into anger by answering back.

Then he chuckled.

‘Oh, yes, Mrs Sweeny. I certainly like a woman who knows how to put a man in his place,’ he agreed. ‘The only trouble is, most men don’t know their place until a woman shows them.’

There was something in his gaze that made Laurel feel warm inside, almost as if she were basking in the warmth of a summer’s day, and it was a feeling she wanted to explore. Perhaps…

‘Haven’t you finished that yet, Nurse?’ Melanie Richards’s voice snapped, dispelling the warmth with a blast of frigid disapproval. ‘I thought you were supposed to be fully qualified for this job, but you’re as slow as the greenest student.’

‘I’m sorry—’ Laurel began, automatically apologising even though she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong.

‘That would be my fault,’ Dmitri interrupted smoothly, straightening up from his relaxed slouch against the column supporting the monitoring equipment to his full six feet plus. Laurel couldn’t help noticing that there was no smile in evidence any more either. ‘My interruptions might have delayed her but they didn’t interfere with the standard of Laurel’s work.’

‘Oh, well, I…’ Melanie began backtracking, fast.

‘And she’s got very gentle hands, too,’ Mrs Sweeny butted in. ‘Not like some of the nurses. Sometimes you get the feeling that they’re trying to do too many jobs at once and doing none of them well.’

‘Yes, well, Staff Nurse Norris is back now, so you can take these papers to Administration,’ Melanie ordered repressively, before turning her attention on the handsome doctor with a renewed smile. ‘Have you got time for a cup of tea, or perhaps you’d prefer coffee?’

‘Actually, I know I’m not due on duty until tomorrow, but I think I’d prefer to take a trip around the department, if that’s all right with you.’

‘Of course it is. And I can answer any questions as we go round,’ Laurel heard her gush, and gritted her teeth as she shouldered her way through the door and paused to hear the security latch click firmly closed behind her. Did the woman have no idea about subtlety?

‘That would take up far too much of your valuable time,’ she heard him say firmly. ‘I would rather familiarise myself with the department in my own way, if you don’t mind. If I have any questions, I can ask you later, perhaps?’

‘Well, of course. If that’s the way you would prefer it.’

Melanie’s annoyance at having her invitation turned down was so clear that Laurel couldn’t help laughing to herself as she set off on her time-wasting errand. It was good to know that their new doctor wasn’t going to be taken in by a woman with a pretty face. He definitely knew his own mind.

Perhaps he would even be able to do something about making better use of her presence in the unit. Each of their little charges needed the equivalent of five and a half nurses and they were desperately short of fully qualified staff. Even though she lacked experience, it just didn’t make sense to send her off on errands that could just as easily have been done by a porter.

The smile put on Laurel’s face by Dmitri’s rebuff of Melanie Richards’s cloying attention didn’t last for long. How could it when inside her head there was a maelstrom of thoughts whirling and colliding in chaotic confusion?

And all because of Dr Dmitri Rostropovich.

What was it about the man?

She’d only met him this morning and already it looked as if he’d caused mayhem in the calm, ordered life she’d created for herself.

For a start, he seemed to have completely scrambled her emotions. Not so very long ago she’d been in the middle of preparations for a wedding to a man who’d never even made her heart skip a beat in all the time she’d known him. Now she’d met a man who created wild Latin-American dance rhythms in her blood with nothing more than the sound of his voice or a wicked smile.

One part of her—a very large part—was only too willing to explore these enticing new sensations. The other part was far more sane and rational, reminding her of the reasons why she was here in the hospital at all.

If she’d stayed where she had been she’d be a married woman by now, browbeaten into obedience by Robert Wainwright purely because she’d realised it had been her only escape from a life lived permanently under his thumb.

The sole reason why she’d been at the right place and time to meet Dmitri was because she was searching for her sister, and the only way she’d been able to do that was by changing her name and moving away from everything and everyone she knew.

Still, the feminine side of her couldn’t resist the suggestion that Dmitri found her attractive. Well, he seemed to prefer her company to Melanie’s, at least.

Who knew what might develop over the next days and weeks? For the first time in a very long time she was actually looking forward to finding out.

‘If I’d known then what I know now,’ she muttered through chattering teeth, her breath emerging in a ghostly cloud, visible even in the dark of the car.

She had no idea how long she’d been here. At this time of the year any time between four o’clock and seven o’clock would be dark whichever end of the day they appeared.

With a feeling of dread she realised that it must still be evening, and the only reason it seemed lighter was because the snow was beginning to accumulate around the car.

She almost regretted her return to the stark reality of her present situation. It was far more pleasant reliving those first heady days after she’d met Dmitri.

She glanced at the luminous dial on her watch and was surprised to see that it was only just past four in the afternoon.

Unfortunately, she didn’t know whether any cars had come along while she’d been unconscious and it didn’t look as if there were going to be any more along this particular road today, in spite of the fact that it was still relatively early.

With snow falling this close to Christmas, perhaps the locals were wise enough to stay at home with their families where it was warm and safe.

All she had to keep her company were memories, and they weren’t going to be enough to keep her warm or get her out of there.

‘How ironic,’ she whispered. ‘To spend a year trying to disappear only to be found every time, and when I need someone to find me, there’s no one around.’

A solid kick landed on her ribs, as though to remind her of a certain person’s existence.

‘Apart from you, of course,’ she apologised, stroking the spot with gentle fingers. ‘But you’re not really in a position to help.’

In fact, the ungainly shape of her body was the reason why she hadn’t been able to reach the release for the safety belt; that and the fact that she didn’t dare move too much in case she sent the car tumbling into infinity.

The fact that she could see her surroundings a little better led her to crane her neck towards the back of the car. She’d flung the two small bags that had contained all her worldly goods for the past year into the back seat when she’d taken off this morning. If they were within reach, perhaps she’d be able to get an extra layer or two of clothing to drape over herself while she waited for someone to find her.

There was one bag nearby, unfortunately the one with the tiny items she’d lovingly stitched and knitted in preparation for her baby’s arrival.

‘Perhaps I could put a mitten on each finger,’ she mused with a watery chuckle, trying to fight off the first waves of real fear.

She knew that the rescue services always recommended staying with the vehicle rather than wandering off and getting lost, and she was wearing a thickly padded jacket, but that still left a large amount of her too poorly covered to preserve her body heat.

Over the space of a night, at these sorts of temperatures, she could soon be looking at the onset of hypothermia. And if the temperature dropped still further outside…

From her time on the neonatal ward, she knew only too well how critical temperature could be to tiny babies fighting for their lives. She had no idea what effect hypothermia had during pregnancy and was now praying fervently that she wouldn’t have to find out.

She pulled the collar of her jacket closer around her cheeks so that the warmth of her breath was deflected down inside her clothing then tucked each set of fingers inside the cuff of the opposite sleeve.

‘What if…?’ she mumbled into the cocooning layer, slipping into a favourite childhood game.

Whenever Robert Wainwright had been at his most abrasive and domineering, she’d retreated into her own private make-believe world.

One of her earliest memories was of telling her favourite doll that she was really a princess and one day her father and mother, who were king and queen of a beautiful kingdom far away, were going to come for her, and then they’d all live happily ever after.

The scenarios had changed over the years, probably influenced by whatever books she’d been reading at the time, but one theme had remained constant. Finding a way to escape the Wainwright sphere of influence.

How paradoxical it was that when she’d finally achieved her most enduring dream she should end up in such danger.

‘But that doesn’t mean that I can’t imagine my way out of it,’ she murmured, and set her imagination to work.

‘If only…’ Suddenly a pair of liquid silver eyes appeared in her mind’s eye and it felt as if a hand squeezed around her heart. That was almost too easy.

‘If only I hadn’t had to leave Dmitri like that,’ she whispered, feeling the hot press of tears behind her eyes. She closed them tight, refusing to give in to them. She knew she’d had no option when she’d seen that black car and recognised that all-too-familiar figure behind the wheel.

But in her game, Laurel could imagine that the car that had seemed to slow when it had passed the gateway a little time ago had been Dmitri’s car.

She’d even imagined earlier on today that she’d seen the metallic sapphire of Dmitri’s beloved sports car coming up beside her on the motorway, but by the time she’d looked again, all she’d been able to see had been nondescript saloons and high-sided lorries.

Anyway, there was no way it could have been Dmitri. It was so many months since she’d left him that he’d probably gone back to Russia by now and forgotten all about her.

But that couldn’t happen in her fantasy.

In her mind she could imagine the way he’d see the damaged wall beside the road and instantly recognise it as the place where she’d tumbled down the hillside.

She could almost see him phoning for assistance then scrambling over the wall to help her out of the car and swear his undying love…

She snorted as her fantasy took off into the realms of impossibility. The last few years had left her with too few illusions about real life to be able to immerse herself in her make-believe world the way she had as a child.

‘If only I hadn’t left, I probably wouldn’t even have been on that road at that time. I’d have been working on the ward and waiting to catch a glimpse of him…’

Another sharp jab in her ribs brought reality crashing through the fantasy.

Even if she’d been able to stay, she certainly wouldn’t have been at work today, not at this stage of her pregnancy. She did a quick mental calculation of the number of days until her due date.

‘Fifteen days to go, provided you arrive on time,’ she murmured with a sudden burst of excitement at the prospect. She couldn’t wait to hold her child in her arms for the first time.

Of course, the baby books all warned that first babies were notoriously slow to arrive, so she could still be waiting in a month’s time.

‘But only if I get out of here safely,’ she said with a shiver of dread. She couldn’t bear to think that, after all these months, she might never see the tiny being she’d been nurturing for so long.

‘It’s not going to happen like that,’ she said, trying to sound positive, but even with her mouth buried inside the collar of her jacket she could hear the quiver in her voice. She ignored it.

‘Any minute now, some kind person is going to catch sight of the damaged wall and is going to organise a rescue party. Then you and I will be taken to…Hey!’ A sudden thought struck her. ‘We’ll probably be taken to the hospital at Edenthwaite to be checked over. I don’t imagine there’s one closer than that and I already know there’s an accident and emergency department there.’

That information had been easy to find, unlike her sister’s whereabouts. She’d moved about so often that it had been like trying to nail jelly to a wall, trying to pin her down. Even when she was standing face to face with her she wouldn’t be certain that she’d found the right person. She hadn’t been able to find out whether they were identical twins or fraternal, so she didn’t even have the certainty that they’d look alike to go on.

‘But when they’re certain that you’re all right,’ she mumbled around a sudden jaw-cracking yawn, ‘then I’ll be able to ask if she’s on duty, and ask to see her, and…and then…’

She was vaguely aware that she’d begun to ramble but it didn’t really matter. The car was steadily getting colder and she was shivering hard enough to rattle her teeth, but her eyes were so heavy she just couldn’t keep them open any longer.

It had been such a stressful day that she was tired out. Perhaps when she woke up her brain would be clearer and she could work out a plan…find a way to get out…

CHAPTER THREE

DMITRI raked his fingers through his hair as he waited for the call to be answered, marching impatiently up and down in the narrow space between the two beds in his hotel room. It felt as if he’d had the phone glued to his ear for hours.

‘Hello? Can you help me?’ he said, launching straight into his prepared speech. ‘I need to know whether you have a guest called Laurel Wright staying with you. She would have arrived earlier this afternoon by car.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t give out information about our guests,’ said a snippy voice on the other end, and he could have groaned aloud. He could understand people’s right to privacy but this was something different.

‘She wanted me to join her,’ he continued quickly, sticking to his improvised story and sure that the woman was going to cut the connection at any moment. ‘I didn’t think I’d be able to get away from work, but now that I have, I’ve discovered that I’ve lost the name of the place she’s staying.’

‘Hmm,’ she said dubiously. ‘That’s as may be, but we haven’t anyone of that name staying here, anyway. You said the name’s Wright?’

‘Yes. Laurel Wright,’ he confirmed eagerly, not allowing himself to think that she might have booked in under another name. How would he ever trace her then? This was a phenomenally popular tourist area with hundreds of hotels and guest-houses dotted about, right down to the smallest farmhouse bed-and-breakfast. The fact that it was close to Christmas, rather than the high season between Easter and autumn, meant that many places would be closed, but he wouldn’t know which until he asked each one individually.

‘She’s slim with long blonde hair and honeycoloured eyes,’ he added hopefully. ‘And she’s got the most beautiful smile.’

‘She sounds lovely,’ the woman said, her tone almost sympathetic now. ‘Unfortunately, she’s not booked in here. We’re not open for Christmas. Our next guests aren’t due until around Easter-time.’

Dmitri thanked her for her time and rang off, only then giving in to the urge to swear ripely in his native tongue.

‘This isn’t getting me anywhere,’ he said with a discouraged sigh. He wandered across to the window and gazed out into the brightly lit square.

There was a Christmas tree laden with coloured lights in the middle by some sort of monument and most of the buildings had decorations of some sort in their front windows. A few hardy souls were scurrying around with armfuls of shopping, their heads bowed to protect their faces against the whirling snow.

He felt a momentary pang of homesickness, then did a logical comparison between his home in Russia and this picturesque little town. This weather was relatively bearable, with temperatures just cold enough to freeze water where it lay. At this time of year in his home town he could be dealing with dozens of degrees of frost that could snap fingers off like dry twigs if he ventured too far without gloves.

People certainly wouldn’t be loitering to admire the tree like that couple over there, the woman laughing at her male companion as she tried to catch a snowflake on her tongue.

There was something about the light-hearted innocence of the game that made him look closer at her.

He’d grown accustomed over the last eight months or so to the momentary shock of seeing women who reminded him of Laurel. With one it had been the free and easy way she’d walked, with another the colour of her hair or her spontaneous, slightly husky laughter.

With this woman it was…

Suddenly she turned to face directly towards him and his heart nearly stopped.

‘Laurel!’ he called out in disbelief when he saw the face he’d been searching for so long.

For several disbelieving seconds he stood transfixed by the sight of her, unable to drag his eyes away.

She was so beautiful.

How could he have forgotten the way she came alive when she laughed like that? It was almost as though there were another person hidden inside her, under her more serious professional side. A person she’d only become when she was with him…until now.

Suddenly he realised that she and her companion had begun walking across the square together and he whirled towards the door.

He barely remembered to grab his coat and the key to his room on the way out and ignored the lift in favour of the stairs for speed.

His heart was pounding with a mixture of exertion and anticipation as he burst out of the hotel’s main doors, scanning the rapidly whitening square as he thrust his arms into his sleeves.

‘She’s gone!’ he whispered in disbelief when there wasn’t a single person in sight, neither Laurel nor the man who had been with her.

It felt as if a hand tightened around his heart when he finally realised the significance of her companion.

He had spent months thinking about her and wondering why she’d left that way, while she…Well, it looked as if she’d blithely gone on with her life, forgetting him as if he’d never existed in the first place.

He closed his eyes against the sting that could only be caused by the whirling snow—it certainly couldn’t be tears for a woman that fickle—and drew in a shaky breath. Reflexively, he wrapped his arms around himself, needing to do something to contain the pain inside.

It hurt, far more than he’d thought it would, and he finally had to admit that he’d been living on foolish hope. Against all odds, he’d somehow convinced himself that, when he found her, there would be some logical explanation for her sudden departure and she would admit that she’d missed him every bit as much as he’d missed her.

In his imagination, laughter and tears mingled as she threw herself into his arms, vowing never to leave again.

He gave a snort of derision as he turned back towards the hotel entrance, suddenly aware of how cold and wet he’d become in spite of the milder climate.

He was halfway up to his floor when something inside him brought him to an abrupt halt.

‘No!’ he said fiercely, turning to make his way down again, a quick check telling him his car keys were still in his pocket. ‘I’m not going to slink away without confronting her. Otherwise I’ll never know why she went like that.’

It only took a moment to sweep away the thin layer of snow that had accumulated on his windscreen since he’d parked the car and then he was on his way.

‘Denison Memorial, maybe,’ he muttered as he followed the signs for the local hospital. He knew, from his laborious tracing over the last few weeks, that she’d worked at several hospitals, never staying very long in any job before suddenly taking off again. Perhaps the reason why she’d come to Edenthwaite had been to take up her next post. It would be easy enough to check, providing she was still using her own name.

He was pleasantly surprised when he caught his first glimpse of the hospital. It was far more modern than he’d been expecting, without looking in the least out of place in its surroundings. The fact that everything was highlighted by the lights gleaming across an untrampled layer of snow only made it look more picturesque.

As if he was interested in picturesque! he thought grimly as he followed directions for the hospital manager’s office.

The man’s identity was a major surprise. The last time he’d seen him he’d been laughing down at Laurel while she’d tried to catch a snowflake on her tongue.

‘Please, come in and take a seat. What can I do for you, Dr Rostropovich?’ the man said when Dmitri had introduced himself.

‘I’m hoping you can help me identify one of your staff,’ he said bluntly, his heart heavy in his chest because he already knew the answer. ‘I’m looking for Laurel Wright.’

He had to give the administrator his due—he’d barely blinked at the name.

‘I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone of that name on the staff here,’ he said politely. ‘However—’

‘But I saw her,’ Dmitri interrupted brusquely, all too aware that his tone was almost accusatory. ‘You were with her in the square in Edenthwaite less than an hour ago.’

Silently, the man held up a hand to silence Dmitri’s outburst while he reached for the phone.

‘Ah, Sister Fletcher, are you free for a moment?’ he asked, then gave the sort of husky chuckle at her reply that hinted at a close relationship between the two of them. ‘No, but I have a visitor here who would like to have a word. Five minutes?’

There didn’t seem any point in indulging in small talk but Dmitri couldn’t sit still, leaping to his feet to prowl backwards and forwards like a caged animal.

He hadn’t expected the end of his quest to come quite so suddenly and his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil. Before she arrived it was time to put the facts he knew into some sort of logical order.

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