The_Color_of_Love_-_Radclyffe (Рэдклифф) - страница 20

Emily stilled, the unfamiliar touch of Derian’s hand streaking through her with the oddest blaze of heat and light. She’d never realized tactile sensations could be in Technicolor. “I’ve been here since Henrietta arrived. I rode in the ambulance. The EMTs were kind enough to let me.”

Derian frowned. Realizing after an instant she still cradled Emily’s face, she brushed her thumb gently over the tip of her chin before drawing away. “Then I’m in your debt. As soon as I’ve seen her, I’m taking you to get something to eat.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure you’ll want to get together with your family.”

“No, that would be the last thing I want to do.” Derian glanced toward the hall in the direction of the intensive care unit. “The only member of my family I care about is in there.” She glanced back at Emily. “You and I share that, I think.”

“Henrietta is easy to care about.”

“You see, I told you, you were diplomatic.” Derian smiled. “Henrietta is a hard-ass, but she knows people. And when she cares about you, she’s always on your side. If you’ve survived this long with her, you’re tougher than you look.”

Emily ought to have been insulted, but she laughed. She didn’t hear criticism in Derian’s voice and imagined there might actually have been a hint of respect there. “I’ll have you know, I’m plenty tough.”

“Then you’ll be tough enough to wait until I’ve seen her. Agreed?”

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m glad Henrietta has you. She deserves someone like you at her side.”

Emily found the statement odd and Derian’s voice surprisingly wistful. All she knew of Henrietta’s niece was that she was often referred to with raised eyebrows among the agency’s staff and had never taken any interest in the business. The press made her out to be something of a reckless, privileged playgirl. But whatever the rumors and innuendo regarding Derian Winfield might be, she had dropped whatever she’d been doing and flown halfway around the world to be by Henrietta’s side. And for that, she’d earned Emily’s respect. Her curious urge to know what had put such pain in Derian’s faraway gaze and the unexpected heat Derian’s touch ignited were something altogether different.

Chapter Four


A youngish-looking man with skin the color of cinnamon, a broad jaw lightly dusted with what looked like a day’s worth of beard, and a stethoscope slung around his neck appeared in the hall. The laminated badge clipped to the pocket of his maroon scrubs had a big MD in one corner. He glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand. “Is there anyone here with Henrietta Winfield?”