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talk to anyone about it?’ Susie whispered. ‘Kirsty keeps on and on…’
    Kirsty opened her mouth but she was hit by that quelling glance again. Shut up, his glance said, and she wasn’t going to argue.
    â€˜You don’t see not eating as a problem?’ he asked Susie.
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Is that true? It’s not a problem?’
    â€˜The only person who thinks it’s a problem is Kirsty. And she fusses. It’s just I don’t feel like it.’
    â€˜I guess you don’t feel like much.’
    â€˜You’re right there,’ Susie said bitterly. ‘But people go on and on at me…’
    No need for the quelling glance this time. Kirsty knew when to shut up. If she could, she’d disappear, she thought. He was treading on eggshells but she knew instinctively that none would be squashed.
    â€˜You know, Susie, I think you need time out,’ Jake said softly. He glanced at the notes he’d been taking as he’d examined her. ‘For a start, your blood pressure’s higher than it should be and we need to get it down.’
    â€˜I’m not going to hospital.’
    â€˜I didn’t suggest that,’ he said evenly. ‘But if you think you can bear to slum it here for a while…’
    Susie gazed up at him from her massive eiderdown and her mound of soft down pillows. Astonished.
    â€˜Here?’
    â€˜You’re Angus’s family. I’m sure he’d be delighted to hold on to you for a week or so. I’ll talk to him about it, shall I? But meanwhile you need to eat, and then sleep.’
    â€˜I’m not hungry.’
    â€˜You know, I’m very sure you are,’ he told her. ‘I cook the world’s best omelette.’
    â€˜I don’t understand,’ Susie complained.
    And Kirsty thought, Ditto.
    â€˜But you’ll eat my omelette? I’ll be hurt if you don’t.’
    How could her sister resist an appeal like that? Kirsty wondered. And if there was a tiny seed of bitterness in what she was thinking, who could blame her? Sure, persuade Susie to eat his omelette or she’d hurt his feelings. How many uneaten meals had she cooked for Susie?
    She was being ridiculous. She looked up at Jake to find he was watching her, and the amusement was back behind thosecalm grey eyes. Drat the man—was he psychic? Could he read what she was thinking?
    â€˜I’ll make some for your sister, too,’ he told Susie, and Kirsty flushed.
    â€˜I’ll make my own,’ she told him. ‘If Uncle Angus says I can. It is his castle after all. Isn’t it?’
    â€˜It is indeed,’ Jake said gravely. ‘Susie, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll take your sister to meet him. We’ll make your apologies. You can meet him in the morning.’
    Â 
    â€˜What gives you the right…?’ Kirsty was almost speechless but as soon as the door was closed against Susie’s ears she found speech was close to overwhelming her. ‘What gives you the right to invite Susie for an extended stay with a man she hasn’t met? With an uncle who’s dying? Are you his doctor or his keeper? Who are you? And weren’t you late before?’
    â€˜I’m his doctor and his friend,’ he said bluntly. He was striding down the hallway so fast that she had to almost break into a run to keep up with him. It seemed his time constraint—his sense of urgency—was operating again. ‘We have it in our grasp to save three lives here, Dr McMahon, and in the face of that, who am I to quibble at being later than I already am?’
    â€˜I don’t understand.’
    â€˜Susie, her baby and Angus,’ he told her, wheeling into the next corridor. This mansion was vast, Kirsty thought as she struggled to keep up. It was astounding. It was furnished like a palace. Actually…
    â€˜It’s not a very exclusive palace,’ Jake commented. ‘Louis XIV meets