Not a Marrying Man by Miranda Lee

Author:Miranda Lee [Lee, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-408-92543-0
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd
Published: 2011-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

I WISH I were, Warwick thought as he strode from the room. A wicked man would lie and tell Amber that he loved her too, then ask her to marry him. A truly wicked man might even tell her the truth about himself, taking advantage of her compassionate heart so that he’d have a loving carer when the inevitable finally happened.

‘Looks like you’re not as wicked as you’ve always thought you were,’ he muttered to himself under his breath as he exited the house.

In the end, Warwick didn’t follow the ambulance into Gosford, the paramedics informing him that the rest of the afternoon would be taken up with X-rays or scans and he would just be in the way. They suggested he went in during visiting hours that evening, by which time Amber would have a diagnosis. In the meantime, she did have her cell phone with her so she could ring him if she needed to.

Warwick had no doubt that if Amber’s ankle was broken, they would operate. They did that these days, the theory being that strengthening the ankle with steel pins would save the patient from arthritis later in life. A rather wasted prevention where he’d been concerned. But he’d still chosen the operation, because recovery was quicker and you could get around better by wearing a special boot and using a walking frame. Much more convenient that a cast and crutches.

Warwick’s only concern was who would perform Amber’s operation. He’d had one of the best bone men in the world do his, after which he’d convalesced in a private sanatorium in Switzerland, where he’d been waited on hand and foot. He didn’t like the idea of Amber being operated on by some second-rate surgeon, then being tossed out of hospital within a day or two without proper after-care. What he needed to do before visiting Amber tonight was to find out about the best private hospitals in the area, plus the qualifications of the specialists who operated there.

After the ambulance departed, Warwick remained out on the still sunny and almost warm porch whilst he thought about how best he could glean this information, and how quickly. If he’d had a lot of time he’d have contacted his office in London, where his top research assistant could find all the answers he wanted via the worldwide web. His staff there were highly efficient and quite ingenious. But searching the Internet would still take some time. A glance at his watch showed it was getting on for four o’clock. Why do that when there was a local and more immediate source of information?

Turning, Warwick hurried back inside and into the decidedly chilly kitchen where he spotted a phone on one of the kitchen counters and a telephone and address book sitting beside it. He quickly turned to the R section and there it was: Max and Tara Richmond’s phone number. First he put the number into the menu of his BlackBerry, then he called.

‘Hello,’ a female voice answered quite quickly.

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