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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
MILLS & BOON
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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
