The Ice Swan полностью

Despite her cringing with embarrassment, Wynn couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from curling. Nor could he stop the laugh building up his throat and bursting free. Svetlana’s gaze lifted to his. The red slowly faded to pink across her cheeks as her lips perked up. She covered her mouth and giggled. A free, feminine sound that skipped around the room and filled it with light. And filled Wynn with the intense desire to hear it again and again.

A crash sounded in the other room.

Wynn sprinted out of the kitchen and into where his patient grappled with the bedside table in an attempt to sit himself upright. He reached out to push the man back onto the pillows, but the man knocked away Wynn’s hands and shouted in Russian.

Svetlana entered and stood behind Wynn as she replied to the man’s outburst before considerately switching to English. “You must stay still or do your injury harm.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who you?”

“Svetlana Dalsky. We were on the street when those men shot you. Do you not remember?”

The man slowly raised a hand to his sagging cheek and scratched. Recognition dawned. “Angel who slap me. Like kiss from heaven.” His attention swung to Wynn, all excitement dropping. “Who you?”

“Dr. Edwynn MacCallan.” Wynn took his new stethoscope from the bureau where he’d left it and placed the earpieces in his ears.

“He saved your life,” Svetlana added.

“Speak truth, angel? Da, of course do. Angels no lie. In such case I indebted you, Doctor.” He loudly kissed the back of Wynn’s hand before bowing his head over it.

“Er, think nothing of it.” Wynn withdrew his hand and discreetly wiped it against his trouser leg before placing the stethoscope bell against the man’s chest. “We’ve yet to get your name.”

“Leonid the third. My father second, but no confuse me with him. He fat. No mention to him this. He very sensitive about waistline.” Leonid pawed at his nightstand and frowned. “Where cigarettes?”

“No smoking.” Satisfied with the heartbeat and lungs, Wynn unplugged the earpieces and slung the instrument around his neck. “I don’t have morphine to offer you, but I can bring a bit tomorrow when I return to check on you. You’re lucky the bullet went clean through. We would’ve had a wee mess on our hands if it hadn’t.”

“That good, Doctor. Appreciate you after what durak do me.” Leonid scowled at his bandaged shoulder as if it were a minor inconvenience and not a gaping hole.

“Who were those men and why were they shooting at you?” Stock-still, Svetlana crossed her arms with the inquiring intensity of a London bobby.

“Crazies. I not know names. One minute I at café sitting reading newspaper—never pleasant stories anymore—and next they shoving me in alley with gun. Say over money.” Leonid raked his hand through the wisps of hair waving like flags from a last stand atop his balding head. “No talk more about in front of lady. It rude, and one thing my papochka taught me never politics before breakfast. Or front of lady.”

The lady didn’t relent. “Were these men Russian?”

“Da, but everyone here Russian. Russkiye neighborhood. Little Neva. What say name was, angel?”

“Svetlana Dalsky.”

“Dalsky. Name familiar, da?” He snapped his fingers near his head as if to summon wandering thoughts. “Will come to me.”

Wynn cleared his throat before she had the chance to launch a formal version of the Inquisition. “I’ll come again tomorrow morning to check on you, Leonid, but for now we should be leaving. I’ve left a list of instructions here on the table. The most important thing is to rest. No unnecessary moving about. And no smoking.”

Leonid’s flat face fell with disappointment. “Go? No, no, no. Cannot leave until thank proper. I know! Join name day celebration in two nights. Big party. My papochka want meet you. Meet other friends, listen at music, enjoy food and vodka. Fountains of vodka.”

“I must insist on no vodka. Not with your injury.”

Frowning, Leonid’s gaze swiveled to Svetlana. “What he mean no vodka?”

Svetlana turned her head to Wynn and whispered, “I think you do not understand Russian culture and its vodka.”

“Believe it or not, I do understand,” he hissed back. “We have a similar epidemic where I come from, only it’s whisky.”

“Whisky? Ah! You make joke.” Leonid’s grin revealed two rows of teeth that surprisingly crowded his wide mouth. Wynn couldn’t help warming to the interesting fellow. “You funny doctor, da? Almost fool me you serious. Here, here, take card. Show doorman. He let in.” Grimacing, Leonid leaned over and pulled two cards from the bedside table drawer and handed them to Wynn and Svetlana. “If ever need help, show card. I loyal friend.”