She stiffened, her compassion for him fading. “It’s a common courtesy, Gerard.”
He made a conciliatory gesture with his hand, but she could tell his mind was already fastened on a different topic. “We’re all worried about his state of mind. I’m sure you are as well. I’m concerned for Ian, of course, but I’m also very worried about James and Anne. It’s like they’re living the nightmare of Helen going missing all over again.”
“Are you implying that you think that Ian is like Helen?” Francesca asked incredulously. “Gerard, Helen had schizophrenia. It’s not the same—”
“I know that. But if he’s not . . . entirely capable,” Gerard said delicately, “we’d like to see to him, get him the care he needs. You have no clue whatsoever as to Ian’s whereabouts? No hint or vague suspicion?”
“None. You know as well as I that Ian is comfortable walking every inch of this planet. He might be anywhere,” she said starkly. I am the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. Her heart seemed to contract at the poignant, remembered line from the Kipling poem that she had always associated with Ian, even before she had been introduced to him. Would Ian ever be able to discard that armor he wore of determined aloneness? She’d thought he could. Once. Now she doubted he could ever be free of his past.
“We never really talked in depth much when I followed him to London for a few days,” she continued quietly after a moment. “His mother’s condition occupied almost all our attention. After she died, Ian just disappeared off the map. In the beginning, I had neighbors check in at his other residences in several countries. Lin gave me the contact phone numbers. No one admitted to seeing him, though.”
A shadow passed over Gerard’s face. “Yes. We did much the same, in search for him. Upon James’s request, I went to several of his residences and hotels where he frequently stays looking for him but . . . nothing.”
She didn’t respond. Of course they’d looked for Ian. She sighed, disappointed they hadn’t learned of any crumb of information she hadn’t discovered.
“In answer to your earlier question about whether or not we’re still officially engaged, the answer is no,” she said more calmly than she felt. She met Gerard’s stare steadily. “I took off Ian’s ring when I left here months ago. I’m not engaged to him anymore. Ian didn’t need to say it out loud. His actions speak louder than words.”
His tense, worried expression gave way. He stood, surprising her by taking her hands and drawing her up to a standing position.
“I’m sorry. More sorry than you know. I didn’t mean to cause you further pain by bringing all this up.”
“It’s all right. I understand. I’ve recognized you and the others are walking on eggshells.”
“Ian was wrong for treating you the way he did. What’s more, he’s a fool for letting you go. Not only are you brilliantly talented and sweet and fresh, you’re so . . .” he paused, his mouth growing hard as he stared down at her, his gaze flickering lower over her covered breasts ever so briefly, making the already sensitized crests prickle with awareness. His hands were large and warm and encompassed her own. His body didn’t touch hers, but standing just inches apart, she became abruptly aware of his male strength. She went still when he reached up and touched a tendril of her hair.
“Beautiful,” he finished, his jaw rigid.
She inhaled his scent. She stepped away, breaking his hold on her hands and faced the fireplace mantel. She was confused by the turn of events. She wasn’t ready to consider being with another man, let alone Ian’s relative. Rationally, it seemed wrong to her, but there was something more elemental that had made her step away.
Gerard felt wrong. He smelled wrong.
She looked fixedly at the white marble mantel, her thoughts and feelings a confused, jumbled mess.
“I’m really tired, Gerard. You should go,” she managed, her back still to him. She stiffened when she felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Francesca.”
She turned and reluctantly met his stare.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing someone,” he said quietly, his nostrils flaring slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with needing. Period.”
The burn in her body had never entirely dissipated, but at this point, she knew it was foolish to think it would be truly vanquished by her own hand . . . or anyone else’s, save one.
“I know that. But sometimes the timing is wrong,” she said.
Something passed over his features. He nodded once and dropped his hand.
“I see,” he said. She inhaled a breath of relief when he stepped away from her. “I really did just come here tonight to express my concern at the idea of you going to Belford Hall. I don’t think you’re ready for something like that.”
“Really? And yet you thought I’d be ready for this?” she asked, glancing significantly at the space between them.
“No, but I’d hoped you were ready to take comfort.”
Her smile was a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. “Is that what you offered when you came here tonight?”
His expression hardened. Suddenly she saw firsthand the razor-sharp edge that had made him such a formidable businessman.
“Yes. For a start,” he said.
She remained unmoving by the fireplace, her incredulous smile a thing of the past, watching him leave the room.
Chapter Three
The next evening, Gerard and Francesca got on an elevator with Anne and James at Noble Enterprises. All of them were in a good mood, having put some satisfying work in with the mergers and acquisitions team that afternoon. The initial liquidation of assets and talks on the acquisition were going smoother than they’d expected or hoped. Of course, things could always pop up to hinder the deal, but more than likely Noble Enterprises would own Tyake soon after the New Year. Francesca was becoming so interested and self-invested in the deal, she occasionally even forgot she was doing it for Ian.