Once there she had to take deep breaths and really force herself to think straight, get a grip. Someone would have to drive her to the airport or arrange for a taxi. And, more importantly, she would have to say goodbye to Diego and explain what was happening.
Although, as he’d been speaking to the distraught Sophie, he would already know. There wouldn’t be a problem with him. From his recent attitude towards her, he would have packed her off home as soon as he decently could in any case. This crisis merely meant that she’d be leaving a few hours earlier than he’d anticipated.
The very thought of saying goodbye to Diego made her want to throw herself on the bed and cry her eyes out. Courtesy of her nasty suspicious mind she had lost him, she knew that. Tears coursed down her pale cheeks as she began to push the things she’d thrown down on the bed earlier into the waiting suitcase.
She would have liked to have had the opportunity to apologise, to tell him she would regret everything—from her awful behaviour five years ago to the latest tantrum of suspicious abuse—for the rest of her life.
The thought that the little box she’d seen him push into his pocket in that hotel reception area had contained the ring he’d meant to give her had her hating herself. A huge sob built up inside her, venting as Diego walked into her room.
Her heart juddered to a halt and then rushed on in a panicky catch-up exercise. He looked so tense, his dark eyes glittering, his wide shoulders rigid. He was so perfect. And she’d lost him! Another sob exploded within her chest and, before she could tell him how much she regretted everything, Diego said flatly, ‘I was sorry to hear the bad news. You and his family must be terribly anxious.’
The predictable words of sympathy increased the pain even more. Guilt stabbed at her heart, reminding her of how selfish she was being—crying because she’d lost whatever chance she might have had of Diego falling back into love with her when her dear friend was fighting for his life back home.
Memories of Ben’s many kindnesses, the way he’d always been her ally, taking her firmly under his wing after her mother had died and her father had as good as abandoned her, came rushing back. She might have shared Sophie’s amusement at his old-fashioned pedantic ways but there had always been an underlying staunch affection.
Diego, his sensational features flatly expressionless, asked, ‘Do you love him?’ The stark guilt of thinking only of her own utter misery regarding her fraught relationship—ex-relationship—with the man she would love for the rest of her life had the words, ‘Of course I do!’ tumbling in a driven wail from her tremulous lips.
His eyes glittering with pain, Diego turned. He had had to know and now his worst nightmare was staring him in the face.
How long would she have kept the pretence up? Coming willingly to his bed, even after he had told her, in a crisis of conscience, that she was free to go. How long, if the co-author of their plan to make a fool of him, take him for all they could get—the man she admitted she loved—hadn’t called her back from what he must have believed was his deathbed?
Reaching the door, he turned back. The sight of her tears for the man she loved sent a cold shaft of pain through the centre of his heart. The last words he would ever say to his cheating fallen angel were, ‘Manuel will drive you to the airport. Take your case down. He will be ready when you are.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE’D been fortunate with her flight but even so it was late when the taxi deposited her outside the hospital. Praying Ben had come through the operation successfully, Lisa dragged herself and her suitcase towards the main building on legs that felt too limp to hold her.
Even if he was well enough to have a visitor it was too late to see him now but she could find out how he was. Surely someone would tell her, even if she wasn’t a close relative.
If Diego had been with her he would have got all the information going. He was that kind of man. He had natural authority. Her heart gave a painful twist. She had to stop thinking of him, beating herself up over what had happened; if she didn’t she would go to pieces.
Nearing the double automatic doors she saw them slide open in front of the Claytons—Honor, Arthur and Sophie—who were exiting together. Lisa’s heart banged frantically inside her ribcage.
After Sophie’s phone call she knew they were blaming her for what had happened. She had to face them as bravely as she could. Automatically, she straightened her shoulders as they walked towards her, her heart clenching with compassion when she saw Honor’s red-rimmed eyes and Sophie’s drooping mouth.
‘How is he?’ Anxiety streaked her voice; she was dreading having to hear the worst.
‘The operation was successful, thank heavens. He’ll probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life but he won’t lose his leg.’ It was Ben’s father who answered. His voice was heavy with strain and his big shoulders were slumped.
‘He will be all right, though?’
‘He is sleeping. We were only allowed to look in on him for a few moments,’ Ben’s mother put in. Honor Clayton looked a decade older than the last time Lisa had seen her at the engagement party. ‘Tomorrow, all being well, we will be able to see him for a few minutes longer. It was, was—’ she stumbled over the words ‘—good of you to come so quickly.’
Lisa shivered as a chill wind flicked her skirt against her body as she dipped her head in wordless acknowledgement of Honor’s thanks, suddenly aware of the way she was dressed.
She had meant to change into practical jeans and a shirt but she hadn’t had a coherent thought in her head after Diego had simply walked out on her, not giving her a chance to say she was deeply sorry for everything. In the light skirt and skimpy top she wasn’t dressed for a chilly spring evening in England.
‘Well, we can’t stand out here getting cold.’ It was Honor who rallied. ‘We’ve persuade
d Sophie to stay with us until Ben’s over the worst. You must, too. You can use your old room.’
Lisa instinctively shook her head. How could she accept their hospitality when they blamed her for being the indirect cause of Ben’s accident? They were going through enough without having to endure her surely unwanted presence.
‘Please come.’ Sophie spoke for the first time. ‘We want you to. Really we do.’
Inky-blue eyes met tearful hazel. ‘Honestly?’
Sophie nodded vigorously, too choked to speak, and Arthur settled the matter, taking her suitcase and dropping a hand on her shoulder. ‘Let’s get to the car. There’s no point hanging around here. There’s nothing we can do. What we all need is a stiff drink.’