What were his intentions?
Megan thought she had it all—a good job, a caring family and a fiancé who would make a wonderful husband. But then her perfect world fell apart, and she found that her one hope was Professor Jake van Belfeld.
He seemed determined to rebuild her life—but why was he taking such a personal interest in her? Did he think that her heart needed his attention, too?
“You’re far too young to become embittered.
“It’s a good thing to fall in and out of love several times so that when it is the real thing you are aware of the difference….”
“You’re being very nasty,” said Megan. “I know you’re a consultant and I’m supposed to respect you, but I’m not on duty yet and neither are you.”
“Ah, that’s the spirit. Get it off that delightful chest of yours, Meg. I’ll drive you home on your day off and you can show your family how well you’ve recovered.”
She drew a deep breath. “I don’t want—” she began crossly.
“Friday, isn’t it? I’ll be outside your flat at half past eight. Mind you’re ready.”
“Well, I won’t be,” said Megan, shaking with temper.… He had made her late and put her into a frightful mood besides.
About the Author
Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of BETTY NEELS in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality, and her spirit and genuine talent live on in all her stories.
The Quiet Professor
Betty Neels
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
THE corridor was gloomy by reason of its being on the top floor of the oldest part of the hospital, and largely unused save by the staff of the pathological department and anyone needing to visit them. One such visitor was standing there now, just where the corridor turned at a sharp angle, staring with horror at the shattered glass dish at her feet. She had been carrying it, and its grisly contents, and, believing there to be no one to impede her progress, had been running…
The person she had run into eyed the horrid mess on the floor thoughtfully. She was a tall, splendidly built girl, with dark hair twisted into an elegant chignon, a pretty face and large brown eyes.
She said calmly, ‘You were running, Nurse Wells.’ It wasn’t an accusation, merely a statement. ‘I take it that this is—was the specimen from Mrs Dodds? Do go and tell Professor van Belfeld that you have had an accident with it.’
Nurse Wells was a very junior nurse, healthily in awe of her seniors. She whispered, ‘I daren’t, Sister. He—he frightens me. When I dropped the forceps last week on the ward he looked at me. I know he didn’t say anything but he-he just looked. Could I write him a note?’
Megan Rodner suppressed a smile. ‘Well, no, I think not, Nurse.’ She paused, looking at the woebegone face before her; any minute now and Nurse Wells was going to burst into a storm of tears. ‘Go back to the ward, and tell Staff Nurse to give you something to do where you can pull yourself together. I’ll see Professor van Belfeld and explain.’
She was rewarded with a relieved sniff and a watery smile. ‘Oh, Sister, you are a dear—I’ll work ever so hard…’
‘Good—and don’t run!’
Left alone, Megan stood for a mere moment staring down at the ruined result of several days’ treatment on Mrs Dodds, who hadn’t been co-operative and would be even less so now. The professor would be annoyed, hiding icy anger behind a calm face. Unlike Nurse Wells, Megan wasn’t afraid of him—she rather liked him, as far as one could like a person who made no effort to be more than coldly courteous.
She walked down a small dark passage leading off the corridor and opened the door at its end. The path. lab. was a complexity of several large rooms, all occupied by white-coated workers and a vast amount of equipment; she went past them all, exchanging hellos as she went, and tapped on a door in the last of the rooms.
The professor’s room was quiet after the hum of noise from the rest of the department. He was sitting at his desk, writing, a big man with wide shoulders and fair hair thickly sprinkled with grey. He said without looking up, ‘Yes?’
‘Sister Rodner from Queen’s Ward, sir. The specimen from Mrs Dodds—’
He interrupted her, ‘Ah, yes, leave it with Peters; I’ll need to see it myself.’ He added belatedly, ‘Thank you, Sister.’
‘I haven’t got it,’ said Megan baldly. ‘The dish was—that is, it’s smashed.’
He looked up then, his cold blue eyes searching her face. She studied his face as she waited for him to say something. He was a handsome man with a commanding nose and a mouth which could become thin at times. It was thin now. ‘Where is it?’ His voice was quiet.
‘In the corridor…’
He got up, towering over her. ‘Come with me, Sister, and we will take a look.’ He held the door and she went past him, back through the department and out into the corridor with him at her heels, and she stood silently while he crouched down to take a close look. He got to his feet and growled something she couldn’t understand—Dutch swear words, she reflected, and she could hardly blame him. ‘You dropped the dish, Sister?’ His voice, with its faint accent, was gently enquiring.
She looked him in the eye. ‘It fell, sir.’
‘Just so. And whom are you shielding behind your—er—person, Sister?’
When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘You are perhaps afraid to tell me?’
‘Good heavens, no,’ said Megan cheerfully, ‘I’m not in the least afraid of you, you know.’
He said nothing to that, only gave her a frigid stare. ‘Be good enough to repeat the treatment, Sister, and when it is completed kindly let me know and I will send one of the technicians to your ward to collect it.’
She smiled at him. ‘Very well, sir. I’m sorry about the accident; it’s kind of you not to be too annoyed.’
‘Annoyed? I am extremely angry,’ he told her.