Dance-of-the-Snake-Yvonne-Whittal Read online

  going to lecture me on how the operation should have been performed?'

  'No,' he smiled derisively. 'I can't fault you on your technique.'

  'Really?' she smiled coldly, making no effort to hide the angry sarcasm in her

  voice.

  'It's your approach to surgery that troubles me,' he explained.

  'Something tells me that we're right back where we started,' she sighed again,

  and, before he could open his mouth, she said it for him. 'My approach to surgery

  is too feminine, and too emotional.'

  'Precisely.'

  'I disagree with you, and I'm afraid I can't change the fact that I'm a woman,' she

  announced sharply, rising to her feet in the hope of ending the conversation, but

  Dane Trafford had not finished with her yet.

  'I would never ask you to change. I happen to like what I see of the feminine

  side of Dr Jessica Neal.'

  The unexpected sensuality in his voice washed over her like a slow caress

  and, to her horror, her skin tingled as if he had actually touched her with those

  clever, supple hands. She raised her glance cautiously, but it was a mistake.

  Those pale grey eyes were the disturbing eyes of a man who knew women too

  well, and he must surely be aware of the response he was awakening in her.

  'I'm going to take a last look at Tante Maria before I have a word with Oom

  Hennie,' she announced, her voice abrupt * with the effort to control the

  unfamiliar and unwanted sensations she was experiencing.

  'Does it embarrass you to think that I should see you as a woman rather than a

  doctor, Jessica?' he asked, using her name with that familiar ease which merely

  enhanced the sensations she was trying so desperately to suppress, and a spark

  of resentment flared within her when she suspected that he knew exactly what

  he was doing to her.

  'Not at all, Dr Trafford,' she replied untruthfully, 'and I know that my mother

  would be thrilled to learn that I haven't lost my femininity entirely by choosing

  to become a doctor.'

  * He was beside her in an instant, moving with the silent swiftness of a panther,

  and his fingers snaked about her wrist before she could reach the door. She

  stood perfectly still, determined to remain calm, but his touch once again sent

  that warm, electrifying current surging through her that set her nerves vibrating

  at his nearness.

  'Given half a chance I could prove to you just how feminine you really are.'

  'I don't doubt your capabilities in that respect,' she replied with a forced

  casualness, hoping he could not feel the throbbing of her pulse beneath his

  fingertips as she disengaged her wrist from his clasp and moved away from his

  oddly disturbing nearness to add carelessly, 'The problem is I have no desire to

  find out just how capable you are.'

  A frown of irritation had settled between her winged brows as she made her

  way towards Tante Maria's ward, but her irritation was directed at herself. She

  had always prided herself on having firm control over her emotions, but Dane

  Trafford had a way of piercing her armour, and it was this alarming knowledge

  that disturbed her so intensely. She would have to take greater care in future

  not to tangle with him unnecessarily, but having to work with him made her

  realise just how impossible that was going to be.

  Jessica had been in Louisville just over a week when James Boshoff was

  shown into her consulting-room late one afternoon, and she had great difficulty

  in suppressing her smile of amusement when he approached her desk with that

  sweaty, wide-brimmed hat clutched in his rough hands.

  ^Good afternoon, Mr,Boshoff,' she said politely. T thought you would be

  seeing Dr O'Brien, or Dr Trafford.'

  'Yes, well, I. . He lowered his glance a little sheepishly. T thought I'd come

  and tell you, Doctor, that the medicine you prescribed for me has helped, and

  I'm also smoking much less now.'

  'I'm very glad to hear that,' Jessica replied, gesturing him into the chair on the

  other side of her desk.

  There was an uncomfortable little silence, then he cleared his throat before

  speaking. 'Maria Delport talks of nothing else but how good you were to her,

  and she's looking so much better.'

  'Tante Maria has been a very good patient,' Jessica announced, realising with

  some embarrassment that Tante Maria had done her own particular brand of

  campaigning among the people of Louisville.

  'Did you want to examine me again, Doctor?'

  'Yes, Mr Boshoff,' Jessica nodded, smothering a smile at his willingness on

  this occasion to be examined by her.

  "Remove your shirt and make yourself comfortable on that stool.'

  The examination did not last long, and as she removed her stethoscope from

  about her neck and placed it on her desk, he asked anxiously, T am better, aren't

  I, Doctor?"

  'Yes, Mr Boshoff,' she nodded, seating herself and making the necessary

  notes in his file before she looked up to find him dressed and hovering beside

  her desk. 'You should still have some of the medicine left which I prescribed for

  you, so I would like you to continue taking it, and if you could keep the amount

  of cigarettes you smoke down to a minimum, then I see no reason why your

  lungs shouldn't clear up altogether.'

  'Thank you, Doctor.' The admiration that shone out of his eyes was almost

  embarrassing. 'Do you want to see me again?'

  'Only if your condition doesn't improve,' she told him, and when she was

  confronted with his toothy smile, she could no longer suppress her own.

  ' Tot siens, Doctor,' he said, and moments later she was alone in the room with

  a foolish giggle threatening to burst from her lips.

  'So the old fool came back for more of that feminine touch, did he?'

  Jessica looked up sharply to see Dane Trafford approaching her desk, and she

  was struck once again by that powerful aura of virile masculinity which

  surrounded him. Muscles rippled beneath his white silk shirt, and

  cream-coloured pants clung to lean hips and muscular thighs. He was a superb

  example of male physical fitness, but the root of the trouble was that she was

  finding it increasingly difficult to observe him from a clinical point of view.

  She looked up suddenly into those grey, mocking eyes, and realised that he was

  well aware of her interest as he waited for her to reply to his remark.

  'I guess Mr Boshoff has realised that I'm not such a bad doctor after all,' she said

  distractedly, a faint smile lurking about her mouth.

  'If I were James Boshoff my reasons for coming back would have nothing to do

  with your professional capabilities.'

  As always the sensuality in his voice, and the suggested intimacy of his remark,

  brought her to her senses. The smile froze on her lips and, rising abruptly to her

  feet, she said sharply, T think I'd like to go home.'

  'Not so fast, Jessica.' He barred her way effectively by stepping in her path.

  'We've received a call from one of the farms in the district. A labourer has injured

  himself, and they're too afraid to move him for fear of back injury. Peter thinks

  it's a good idea if you go out there with me. It would give you an opportunity to

  get to know the area around Louisville.'


  Her hopes of spending a long, leisurely evening at home were rudely dashed

  and, sighing inwardly, she slipped out of her white jacket and pushed her

  stethoscope into her bag.

  'Shall we go, then, Dr Trafford?'

  He nodded abruptly and informed her in a clipped voice, 'We'll go in my car.'

  Ten minutes later the red Mustang was churning up the dust as it sped along the

  road through the bushveld while the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across

  the earth. Jessica sat in silence, not interrupting while Dane explained where they

  were going, and she made mental notes as he pointed out several farms to her.

  'The wealthiest cattle farmer in this district is naturally Vivien O'Brien's

  brother, Bernard King, but his farm lies to the north of Louisville,' Dane

  explained. 'Around these parts he's known fondly as the Cattle King.'

  Jessica did not comment on this, but she could not help thinking that, in the face

  of what she had just discovered,

  Vivien O'Brien and Olivia King had somehow managed to remain two

  unassuming and lovely people.

  Dane turned off on to a bumpy farm road, and when he brought his car to a halt

  close to a farm shed there was a stirring among the group of people who stood

  gathered there. A burly farmer stepped from the circle of black faces to explain

  what had occurred, and they discovered that one of his labourers had slipped and

  fallen from the roof of the high shed.

  Dane and Jessica worked quickly while the light was still reasonably good,

  examining and assessing the extent of the man's injuries. They worked like a

  team, strangely enough, and there was no need for further explanations when

  Dane looked up to say, 'Call the hospital. Tell them to send out an ambulance, and

  explain what we'll need.'

  Jessica nodded and, with the burly farmer leading the way to his house, she was

  speaking to the hospital a few minutes later.

  The labourer's injuries were serious, Jessica realised, but how serious they

  would only discover once he had been X-rayed, but the external examination had

  led her to believe that he suffered a dangerous pressure on a vital nerve in the

  cervix of the spine, and the look on Dane's face when she rejoined him made her

  suspect that his diagnosis was the same as hers.

  The ambulance arrived just as the shadows of night deepened across the veld,

  and the silent group of inquisitive and concerned observers dispersed at last as the

  patient was lifted into the vehicle.

  'Do you think you could manage to drive my car back into town?' Dane queried,

  and when she nodded affirmatively, he dropped a small bunch of keys into her

  outstretched palm. 'See you at the hospital, then.'

  He leapt into the ambulance and the doors were slammed shut. Moments later

  she stood watching the ambulance making its way back to the hospital.

  Jessica followed a little while later in Dane's Mustang, and she enjoyed the

  feeling of being in control of such a powerful car. The stars were glittering in the

  dark, velvety sky when at last she drove through the gates of the hospital, but

  there was no time to enjoy it as she parked the car and hurried into the building.

  'How is he?' Jessica was asking Dane some minutes later.

  'He's being X-rayed at the moment,' he said, shrugging himself into his jacket

  and combing his fingers through his dark, windblown hair.

  'What do you think?'

  'Without sounding a little premature, I think that, with luck and care, he'll be

  walking about in the not too distant future.' His smile was twisted as he glanced

  at her. 'What do you think?'

  'I think he was lucky that everyone had the foresight not to move him until we

  arrived.'

  Dane nodded, then a gleam of speculation settled in his eyes. 'The X-rays will

  take some time. Will you join me in the canteen for a cup of coffee?'

  An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 'I don't seem to have

  much option, do I?'

  'Not unless you fancy walking all the way to the consulting-rooms to collect

  your car,' he answered smoothly, and she sighed resignedly.

  'I'll join you for that cup of coffee.'

  'I knew you would accept,' he mocked her, taking her arm to guide her towards

  the canteen, and she was again made aware of Dane Trafford in the physical

  sense.

  She could not decide whether she liked it, or not, but she was beginning to

  sense danger for herself in a closer relationship with this man who had such an

  odd effect on her usually stable emotions.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘As I recall,' Dane began, a cynical smile curving his perfectly chiselled mouth

  when they sat facing each other across the table with a steaming cup of coffee in

  front of them, 'the last time we had coffee together neither of us had the

  opportunity to take even one sip.'

  Against her will Jessica heard herself laughing. 'I could do with this cup of

  coffee, so let's hope we have the opportunity now to finish it before we're called

  away.'

  'I echo that wish,' he sighed, and she was surprised to see the lines of

  weariness etched along the sides of his nose and mouth as they sat drinking

  their coffee in the partially empty canteen. 'What made you decide to study

  medicine, Jessica?'

  The question startled her, and she gestured vaguely with her hands. 'What

  makes anyone decide to study medicine?'

  'I can think of various reasons, but not necessarily the right ones.' His face

  looked grim. 'I decided to become a doctor when I found myself confronted by

  the sight of my dying parents after they'd been shot down by terrorists on our

  farm in Zimbabwe. If I'd known then what I know now, I might still have been

  able to save their lives.' He offered her a cigarette and, when she shook her

  head, he1 lit one for himself. 'I was studying pharmacy at the time, but after that

  I knew I had to alter my plans,' he added.

  She realised that her sympathies would be lost on him at that moment. She

  was not even sure that he would appreciate them, and her brow creased in a

  thoughtful frown as she studied him closely. 'That must have been at

  the start of the guerilla warfare in Zimbabwe.'

  'If you're trying to work out my age, then I'll save you the trouble,' he laughed

  mockingly. 'I'm thirty-five.'

  'I wasn't - '

  'Oh, yes, you were,' he interrupted, his mocking glance taking in the guilty

  flush that stained her cheeks. 'Now that you know my reasons for becoming a

  doctor, what about telling me yours?'

  Jessica's mouth felt dry, and she took a quick sip of coffee before she replied. 'I

  can't remember a time when I didn't want to be a doctor.'

  'You "mean you grew up with the idea, and never stopped to consider

  something else which might have suited you better?'

  For some inexplicable reason she refrained from telling him about her father,

  and she lowered her gaze as she said: 'I can't think of anything that would have

  suited me better.'

  When she risked looking at him again she found his eyes glittering with

  mockery and something else which she preferred not to define. 'I can think of

  something which would suit you admirably in this period of your life,
but you

  wouldn't need a university degree for that.'

  'Even if I say that I'm not interested you're going to enlighten me, I'm sure,' she

  replied a little caustically, watching him blow twin jets of smoke from his nose as

  he put out his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray.

  'You're right about that/ he said, those compelling eyes probing hers,

  attempting to invade the most secret recesses of her soul before they travelled

  slowly, and with a deliberate sensuality in their depths, down to where her small

  breasts strained against her silk sweater. His glance lingered like a physical

  caress, and her treacherous body responded in the most diabolical way which his

  razor- sharp eyes could not miss. 'What would suit you now is a damn good

  affair,' he enlightened her, his eyes on that frantic little pulse at the base of her

  throat, and the agitated rise and fall of her breasts.

  'What you're really suggesting is an affair with you, I suppose?' she demanded

  cynically, and his strong white teeth flashed in a mocking smile.

  'I'm delighted that you should consider me in that respect.'

  'You intended that I should,' she retorted angrily.

  ' I t grieves me that you should misjudge me so.'

  Jessica clenched her hands tightly beneath the table. ' I t grieves me that I

  should have to sit here listening to you.'

  'Dr Trafford. Please, report to Casualty. Dr Trafford/ the male voice over the

  intercom system interrupted their conversation, and they rose to their feet

  simultaneously.

  'What a pity we can't continue this interesting conversation,' he taunted her as

  they walked out of the canteen, and she flashed him a withering glance that

  merely served to increase the mockery in his eyes.

  The X-rays confirmed their suspicions, and Dane issued rapid instructions

  before answering Jessica's silent query with, 'There's a neuro-surgeon in Louis

  Trichardt. I'll consult him first thing in the morning.'

  It was late that evening before Dane parked his Mustang alongside Jessica's

  Alfa and turned in his seat to face her.

  'Goodnight, Jessica,' he said to the accompaniment of the crickets in the

  undergrowth, and his mocking features were clearly visible in the light from the

  dashboard. 'May I wish you a peaceful, uninterrupted night in your lonely bed.'

  'I don't find my bed lonely at all, Dr Trafford,' she assured him stiffly. 'I prefer