gray-eyed and possessed a square-jawed attractiveness that had caused nearly all of his female patients to fall a little bit in love with him. One of the women at the clinic had remarked dryly that Harrow 's personal magnetism not only affected men, women, and children but also extended to armoires, assorted chairs, and the nearby goldfish in a bowl.
As Leo had put it: ' Harrow doesn't look at all like a doctor. He looks like a woman's fantasy of a doctor. I suspect half his practice consists of love-struck females who prolong their illness merely to continue being treated by him.'
'I assure you,' Win had said, laughing, 'I am neither love struck, nor am I the least bit inclined to prolong my illness.'
But she had to admit, it was difficult not to feel something for a man who was attractive, attentive, and had also cured her of a debilitating condition. And Win thought Julian might possibly have feelings for her in return. During the past year, especially, when Win's health had rebounded into full vitality, Julian had begun to treat her as something more than a mere patient. They had gone on long walks through the impossibly romantic scenery of Provence, and he had flirted with her, and made her laugh. His attentions had soothed her wounded spirit after Merripen had so callously ignored her.
Eventually Win had accepted that the feelings she had for Merripen were not reciprocated. She had even cried on Leo's shoulder. Her brother had pointed out that she had seen very little of the world and knew next to nothing about men.
'Don't you think it's possible your attachment to Merripen was a result of proximity as much as anything else?' Leo had asked gently. 'Let's look at the situation honestly, Win. You have nothing in common with him. You're a lovely, sensitive, literate woman, and he's… Merripen. He likes to chop wood for entertainment. And apparently it falls to me to point out the indelicate truth that some couples are well-suited in the bedroom but not anywhere else.'
Win had been shocked out of her tears by his blunt-ness. 'Leo Hathaway, are you suggesting-'
'Lord Ramsay now, thank you,' he had teased.
'Lord Ramsay, are you suggesting that my feelings for Merripen arc carnal in nature?'
'They're certainly not intellectual,' Leo had said, and grinned as she punched him in the shoulder.
After much reflection, however. Win had had to admit that Leo had a point. Of course, Merripen was far more intelligent, and educated, than her brother gave him credit for. As far as she remembered, Merripen had challenged Leo in many a philosophical discussion and had memorized more Greek and Latin than anyone else in the family except her father. But Merripen had only learned those things to fit in with the Hathaways, not because he had any real interest in obtaining an education.
Merripen was a man of nature; he craved the feel of earth and sky. He would never be more than half-tame. And he and Win were as different as fish from fowl.
Julian took her hand in his long, elegant one. His fingers were smooth and well tended, tapered at the tips. 'Winnifred,' he said gently, 'now that we're away from the clinic, life won't be quite so well regulated. You must safeguard your health. Make certain you rest tonight, no matter how tempting it is to stay up all hours.'
'Yes, Doctor,' Win said, smiling up at him. She felt a surge of affection for him, remembering the first time she had managed to climb the exercise ladder in the clinic. Julian had been behind her every step, his encouragements soft in her ear, his chest firm against her back. A little higher, Winnifred. I won't let you fall. He hadn't done any of the work for her. Only kept her safe as she climbed.
'I'm a bit nervous,' Win admitted as Leo escorted her to the Hathaways' suite on the hotel's second floor.
'Why?'
'I'm not sure. Perhaps because we've all changed.'
'The essential things haven't changed.' Leo gripped her elbow firmly. 'You're still the delightful girl you were. And I'm still a scoundrel with a taste for spirits and lightskirts.'
'Leo,' she said, darting a quick frown at him. 'You're not planning to go back to your old ways, are you?'
'I will avoid temptation,' he replied, 'unless it happens to fall directly in my path.' He stopped her at the middle landing. 'Do you want to pause for a moment?'
'Not at all.' Win continued enthusiastically upward. 'I love stair climbing. I love doing anything I couldn't do before. And from now on I'm going to live by the motto 'Life is to be lived to the fullest.''
Leo grinned. 'You should know that I've said that on many occasions in the past, and it always got me in trouble.'
Win glanced at her surroundings with pleasure. After living in the austere surroundings of Harrow 's clinic for so long, she would enjoy a taste of luxury.
Elegant, modern, and supremely comfortable, the Rutledge was owned by the mysterious Harry Rutledge, about whom there were so many rumors that no one could even say definitively whether he was British or American. All that was known for certain was that he had lived for a time in America and had come to England to create a hotel that combined the opulence of Europe with the best of American innovations.
The Rutledge was the first hotel to design every single bedroom en suite with its own private bathroom. And there were delights such as food service lifts, built-in cupboards in the bedrooms, private meeting rooms with atrium glass ceilings, and gardens designed as outdoor rooms. The hotel also featured a dining room that was said to be the most beautiful in England, with so many chandeliers that the ceiling had required extra reinforcements during construction.
They reached the door of the Hathaways' suite, and Leo knocked gently.
There were a few movements within. The door opened to reveal a young fair-haired maid. The maid's gaze swept over the both of them. 'May I help you, sir?' she asked Leo.
'We've come to see Mr. and Mrs. Rohan.'
'Beg pardon, sir, but they have just retired for the evening.'
The hour was quite late, Win thought, deflated. 'We should go our rooms and let them rest,' she told Leo. 'We'll come back in the morning.'
Leo stared at the housemaid with a slight smile, and asked in a soft, low voice, 'What is your name, child?'
Her brown eyes widened, and a blush crept up her cheeks. 'Abigail, sir.'
'Abigail,' he repeated. 'Tell Mrs. Rohan that her sister is here and wishes to see her.'
'Yes, sir.' The maid giggled and left them at the door.
Win gave her brother a wry glance as he helped to remove her cloak. 'Your way with women never fails to astonish me.'
'Most women have a tragic attraction to rakes,' he said regretfully. 'I really shouldn't use it against them.'
Someone came into the receiving room. He saw Amelia's familiar form, clad in a blue dressing robe, accompanied by Cam Rohan, who was handsomely disheveled in an open-necked shirt and trousers.
Her blue eyes as round as saucers, Amelia stopped at the sight of her brother and sister. A white hand fluttered to Amelia's throat. 'Is it really you?' she asked unsteadily.
Win tried to smile, but it was impossible when her lips were trembling with emotion. She tried to imagine how she must appear to Amelia, who had seen her last as a frail invalid. 'I'm home,' she said, a slight break in her voice.
'Oh, Win! I dreamed-I so hoped-' Amelia stopped and rushed forward, and their arms went around each other, fast and tight.
Win closed her eyes and sighed, feeling that at last she had come home. My sister. She basked in the soft comfort of Amelia's arms.
'You're so beautiful,' Amelia said, drawing back to cup Win's wet cheeks with her hands. 'So healthy and strong. Oh, look at this goddess. Cam, just look at her!'
'You look well,' Rohan told Win, his eyes glowing. 'Better than I've ever seen you, little sister.' Carefully he embraced her and kissed her forehead. 'Welcome back.'
'Where are Poppy and Beatrix?' Win asked, clinging to Amelia's hand.
'They're abed, but I'll go wake them.'
'No, let them sleep,' Win said quickly. 'We shan't stay for long-we're both exhausted-but I had to see you
