‘Through there.’ Hugo indicated another door, staying put. He wondered how far Nell intended to go with this.
She disappeared into the bathroom and he heard the sound of water running. Then she popped her head around the doorway. ‘I’ll take a look at your chest and then leave you to it.’
Hugo heaved himself from the bed and walked into the bathroom. She’d moved the shower chair in front of the basin, and motioned him to sit down.
‘How do you really feel?’ She bent down, unbuttoning his shirt.
He wanted to say that he felt fine. Hugo meant to say that he felt fine, but in her quiet, fragrant presence he couldn’t.
‘As if I’ve been hit by a truck.’
Hugo closed his eyes, feeling her slip his shirt from his shoulders and carefully threading it off his left arm. Coming to terms with the piece of cutting-edge technology that was now implanted in his chest was the easy part. It was the thought that he was somehow flawed that he just couldn’t shake.
More flawed. He hadn’t been perfect to start with.
He felt her carefully remove the dressing over the surgical incision. It was hard not to shiver at the touch of Nell’s cool fingers.
‘It’s looking good. A little bruising, still, but there’s no infection and it’s starting to heal. It’s a nice job.’
Nice job. She’d said that before and he’d wanted to turn his back on her and tell her that he didn’t need that doctor-to-doctor reassurance. If he’d still had a gaping wound on his chest, a scar that would never heal, it might reflect the way he felt a little better.
‘Take a look.’
Hugo had purposely not removed the dressings to see what was underneath. But it seemed that parts of his body answered to her and not him, and his eyes flipped open. The first thing he saw was her face, composed in a reassuring smile, and even though he knew that smile was probably something she wore for all her patients it did its job. He smiled back.
‘What do you think?’ She stepped out of the way, and Hugo found his gaze on the mirror above the basin.
‘It’s...’ Hugo tried for a shrug, and felt his left shoulder pull. ‘You’re right. It’s a neat job.’
She nodded and turned to the basin, leaving him alone for a moment with his own reflection. Hugo didn’t like the way it made him feel and he concentrated on watching Nell instead.
Her hands were gentle but capable as they dipped a flannel into the basin, twisting it to wring out the excess water. In his experience, that was only a short step away from tender. She laid the flannel over his shoulder, her entire concentration on what she was doing. It felt warm and comforting.
‘That feels good. Thank you.’
She nodded, removing the flannel and dipping it back into the water. Wiping it across his skin, careful not to allow any drops of water near the wound. He’d seen this so many times before at the hospital, and had always felt that this was one thing that no amount of technology or learning could replace. When the nurses washed a patient, there was a tenderness about it that spoke of the kind of care that only human beings could give one another.
And now he felt it. The warm touch of water against his skin calmed Hugo, and the suspicion that everything would be all right floated into his consciousness, with all the reassurance of a forgotten friend.
She leaned towards him, rubbing the flannel across his back. Stopping to rinse and then repeat, her movements slow and thoughtful, like those of a craftsman plying his trade. Hugo closed his eyes, not ready to let go of this feeling just yet.
She finished with the flannel and gently patted his skin dry with a towel. Then he felt her fingers on the top of his left arm, gently massaging. He knew what Nell was doing. He wasn’t supposed to lift his left arm above shoulder level for six weeks, and it was common to get a frozen shoulder during that time. It was just straightforward care, but it felt like so much more.
‘Would you like help to shave?’ He opened his eyes and saw that Nell was now opening one of the sterile dressings from the box that lay on top of the bathroom cabinet.
It had been a while since he’d let a woman shave him, and then it had been purely for pleasure. Anna had done it, but since then he hadn’t let a woman get to know him that well. Hugo regarded the shaving cream on the shelf above the mirror and decided against it.
‘Thanks, but I’ll go with the designer stubble.’
Nell gave him a half smile. ‘It suits you.’
It was the one thing she’d said that betrayed some kind of emotion locked behind the caring, and it sent tingles down Hugo’s spine. Nell checked that the new dressing over his wound was firmly anchored, and then turned abruptly, leaving him alone in the bathroom.
* * *
If it worked, then it worked. Society lunches and bidding for a weekend in the presence of a prince wasn’t a strategy that Nell had been called on to adopt before, and neither was washing a patient. But talking to someone, learning what made them tick and suggesting ways of coping was. And if the sudden closeness with Hugo had left her wanting to just touch his skin, simply for the pleasure of feeling it under her fingertips, then that could be ignored in the face of a greater good. Her job here was not really to look afte
r him in a medical sense but to get behind his suave, charming exterior, and find out what drove him so relentlessly that he was willing to risk his health for it.