The Surgeon. Kate Bridges
of people stared. Some women averted their eyes and whispered to their friends. Sarah was struck by self-consciousness. She’d created a stir because she’d been too zestful in her shouting and clumsy with the painting.
However, the elderly sisters turned and waited for her. Like Sarah in her white mutton-sleeve blouse and cameo brooch clipped to her throat, the ladies were dressed in their finest.
Sarah squeezed past a man with a walking stick. Puffing to catch her breath, she felt herself flush with enthusiasm as she peered into the wrinkled green eyes of dear Mrs. Lott. “I’ve come to join you for dinner.”
Ten feet past their shoulders, the stained-glass door opened. Dr. John Calloway strode through it.
With a quickening of her pulse, Sarah slunk into the corner, hoping he wouldn’t catch sight of her. What brought him here? He’d said he was on duty this evening, so he must be on a doctor’s call. In a glance, she didn’t see a medicine bag, only an annoyingly handsome man with slicked-back hair and a white silk shirt. He loomed a good ten inches above the crowd.
Mrs. Lott had her back turned, so didn’t see him. She wasn’t smiling at Sarah as she had been that morning. “But we’ve already eaten.”
“Oh—” Had Sarah made an error? She pivoted on her high-heeled black boot to glance at Mrs. Thomas. “But…”
Mrs. Thomas brought her leather gloves to her nose and sniffled. Her shock of white hair, pinned in billowing curls atop her head, shook with disapproval.
“But I thought you said seven o’clock. I’m five minutes early.”
“Dr. Calloway declined, remember?”
“Yes, but I thought I’d mentioned I would join you alone.”
“Sorry, there must have been a miscommunication.”
A burning heat slapped Sarah in the face. Polly Fitzgibbon had obviously done her work. She likely spread the gossip of Sarah’s nakedness in John’s arms and God knew what else.
John spoke beside her, causing her pulse to leap again. “Good evening, ladies. I see I’ve arrived in time. I’d like to join you for dinner if I’m still invited.”
Trying to hide her disgrace, Sarah spun around to weave back up the stairs to the solace of her room. “It seems we’re both late, Dr. Calloway.”
He grabbed her wrist firmly and held it to his side, but smiled at the other women. “Late? It’s not seven yet.”
Sarah tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her strong. A silent turbulence roared between them. Had he overheard that the sisters had declined Sarah? What was he doing? People were staring, and he was making the situation worse. It didn’t help that his touch flustered her thoughts.
The two women puckered their lips. “We’ve already eaten, Doctor. Good evening.” They strolled away.
Another couple brushed by John and Sarah. They mumbled, inaudible to most, but not to Sarah, which was the effect she knew they were seeking. “…caught red-handed with her clothes off. Phony mail-order bride. Wonder how much she charges…”
“Now just a minute,” said John, red beneath his collar.
The sisters hesitated near the door, glanced back and fanned their faces with their gloves. Dead silence filled the hallway. Not a person in the crowd moved.
“John, don’t—” whispered Sarah.
“Come back here, ladies,” John commanded. “I’d like to explain something to you.”
The women clicked their tongues. Someone held the door open and they slinked into the blue evening sky.
With a heated look of fury, John glared at the staring faces. He must have realized they were gauging his possessive hand on Sarah’s wrist, because he dropped it quickly.
His absence left a cold spot on her wrist. She hadn’t been touched like that for a very long time. It’d been a raw act of control, of possession. She fought the unwanted feeling of satisfaction it brought her.
“Good night,” she said softly, rubbing her wrist, turning up the stairs, afraid to draw more attention to herself.
“Wait.” John pressed his warm hand into her sleeve and held her back by the arm. Heat arced between them.
Judging by the murmuring and shuffling of feet, the crowd had lost their interest in John and Sarah. She stiffened her posture with pride.
When she turned around, a step higher and almost eye level to his handsome dark face and searching gaze, he added, “You still have to eat. There’s a great steakhouse around the block.”
The corner of his mouth twisted with a little smile. What would it be like to kiss that generous mouth?
“I don’t think I’d be good company.” She raced up one step and he followed by one.
“Better company than those two women.”
His gentle attempt to make her smile worked. Why should she run for cover? Who were they to treat her like that?
A teasing gleam twinkled in his brown eyes. Maybe she should keep her distance from John. He’d already rejected her once.
“Steak sounds good.”
“If I can calm down long enough,” John said an hour later over dinner, “I’ll go to Mrs. Lott and Mrs. Thomas, and explain what happened. That you were caught in the middle of an idiotic game between my men, and brought here under false pretenses.”
Sarah watched the golden candlelight flicker over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, over the short wave of brown hair. The shadow of a beard and mustache added to his brawny appearance. Yet a white silk shirt draped from his wide shoulders, in soft contrast to his rough masculinity.
“I think that they think that once I met you…I no longer wanted—” he swallowed “—to marry you.”
Sarah cut into her rib eye steak. “I’d prefer to explain it to them myself, thank you, when the time is right.” She arched her shoulders against her high-backed chair, loosening the tension in her muscles. “But I’m no longer sure it’s worth it.”
John glanced over her ruffled blouse all the way down to her cinched waistline. She was covered from wrist to throat by fabric, but somehow John’s heated glance made her feel as though her clothing was totally improper. How did he have that ability to make her so aware of her own sensuality?
“The rumors are spreading. Unfortunately, it’s worth your reputation.”
Her heart pounded in an offbeat rhythm. She knew he was right, but she wouldn’t allow panic to set in.
He slid his empty plate away. “And as far as being caught this morning—together like we were—let me try to explain that to them, at least.”
“Could you try to explain it to me first?”
She captured his attention with the remark. He laughed softly. “I see your point. Maybe it’s best if we don’t try to explain it at all.”
He swirled his glass of white wine with one large hand, gazing into its depth. His fingers, long and lean, were tinted from the sun and exceptionally clean and trim. His hands were beautiful; a captivating paradox to the rest of his rough-and-rugged presence.
Then he sipped his wine, calling her attention to his well-defined lips. She wished she would stop noticing everything about him.
“What brought you here, Sarah? I mean, besides my so-called letters. Why did you come?”
Her body felt heavy and warm. This was her opening to speak of Keenan, but how could she reveal her brother? She didn’t know who to trust in this town, and the more she kept her mouth closed, the better off she’d be.
“I think I’ve been waiting for this opportunity