Her profile was white and fragile as she turned slightly, her voice low and strained as she began. ‘There were a whole bunch of us who grew up together and David was one of them. He…he was the handsome one, the charmed one; everyone was crazy about him and wanted to be with him. And then…’
It didn’t take long to tell, but when she had finished she sagged against the sofa as though she had been talking for hours. She hadn’t looked at him once as she had spoken, and he hadn’t said a word, so when his voice came, dark and deadly, saying, ‘I would like to kill him, Sephy,’ she was actually shocked.
‘It was a long time ago; it’s in the past,’ she said quickly, feeling it had been a terrible mistake to tell him.
‘I’m going to hold you, just hold you.’ He had taken her in his arms before she could demur, lifting her as he rose and then sitting on the sofa so that she was cradled in his arms with her head resting against his throat.
She held herself rigid—it was either that or turning in to him and saying she would take any terms, any conditions, as long as he didn’t go. But it would be a mockery of a relationship. He didn’t love her; he didn’t love her.
‘Listen to me for a minute without saying anything,’ he said huskily, after what felt like a lifetime. ‘You’re ill now, tired and low and at the end of yourself, and I should have realised it weeks ago. The doctor said you are completely exhausted.’
‘But—’
‘No, just listen, Sephy. I want you to do one last thing for me. I want you to let me send you away somewhere hot and lazy, somewhere where you can recover in peace and quiet and get strong again. Will you let me do that, please? And soon?’
She swallowed once, twice, but she still couldn’t speak. He was sending her away, that much had registered, along with the knowledge that for a moment—just a split second of a moment—she had hoped he was going to say something else. That he had grown to love her, that their quarrel on Saturday had opened his eyes and he understood he felt more for her than he’d felt for the others. Had there ever been such a fool as her in the whole of time? Would she never learn?
He was breathing hard, she could feel his muscled chest rising and falling, and then he cleared his throat and said, ‘Will you let me do that? The doctor says you need to convalesce.’
Nothing more than a weak whisper could force its way past the painful constriction in her throat as she fought the tears. ‘There’s no need, really. I am strong, or I will be in a day or two. It’s only a touch of flu.’
‘You haven’t had a holiday in over a year and you’re physically and mentally exhausted. I want to do this, Sephy. I’ve a place in Italy that I bought years ago, when Daniella’s father first made contact with me again. It was a means of being around my niece now and again but still having home comforts and being able to work when I needed to. There are people there who will cook and clean and take care of things while you relax and get well again.’
‘You mean live in your home?’ she asked dazedly.
‘This is not a means of getting you into my bed whilst you’re ill and weak,’ he said evenly, his voice slightly clipped now. ‘I don’t operate like that.’
‘I know.’ She hadn’t thought that for a moment. ‘I know that.’
‘I shan’t be there, of course, but I’ll know you’re recovering in beautiful surroundings and that there are people to assist if you need anything. You have my word I won’t visit or harass you.’
His duty—as he saw it—taken care of and this whole unlikely affair finished on a clean note. She knew what he was about, but with the warm fragrance of him all about her and his body touching hers she couldn’t think clearly.
‘I can’t…let you do that,’ she said after a while.
She heard him sigh impatiently and then her heart stopped beating as she felt his hand smooth back a tendril of hair from her cheek, and he said, ‘Yes, you can. Madge has sung your praises more than once for the way you handled things when she was away, and she’s let me know it was totally unreasonable of me to expect you to work the hours she does. You’re young; your whole life isn’t taken up with Quentin Dynamics like she’s chosen for hers to be.’
No, her whole life was taken up with him, and that was a hundred times worse than the position Madge was in.
So… Madge had obviously been on at him, and Maisie had put in her twopenny-worth, and now he felt he had to do something for her. She didn’t like that, it was humiliating, but, knowing Conrad as she did when he had the bit between his teeth, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and besides… She bit her lip hard as she faced the truth of it. She would love to see this other home of his, live somewhere that had the imprint of him all around, even if it was just for a week or so. It was crazy and smacked of masochism but it meant she didn’t have to let go for ju
st a bit longer, that she was still on the perimeter of his life in some way. She closed her eyes and drank in the closeness of him for a moment. And she couldn’t feel worse than she was feeling now. At least this way she would start to face the rest of her life without him bronzed and well instead of pale and pathetic.
‘Look on this as a bonus for the job you did for me,’ the deep, husky voice above her head said softly, ‘if that makes you feel better.’
It didn’t. It only confirmed what she’d known all along—that he was making this offer because he felt uncomfortable about the way things had finished and wanted to end their relationship on a better note. However, once he had touched her, once he had shown that other side of himself which was so dangerously tender, her earlier resolution regarding pride and dignity seemed to have flown out of the window.
She sighed inwardly at her inconsistency, and at the fact that she would be quite content to sit here like this for the rest of her life, and took a deep, steadying breath before she said, ‘You don’t have to do this, but if you really want to then…thank you. A holiday would be nice.’
If he was surprised at her easy capitulation he didn’t show it, but, never one to miss pressing an advantage, he said quickly, ‘A month away should have you back on your feet.’
‘A month!’ She straightened then, twisting to face him, and wished she hadn’t as his face came disturbingly close. For such an uncompromisingly masculine man he had ridiculously long eyelashes, and his mouth was fascinatingly uneven. And sexy. Definitely sexy. It made you want to kiss it, to draw his firm bottom lip between yours and explore its taste…
‘Okay, you’ve twisted my arm. Six weeks.’
‘I can’t possibly stay away a month,’ Sephy said flatly, pulling the belt of the robe tighter before she twisted and rose carefully to her feet. She noticed—with a dart of pain that was confirmation she’d been stark staring mad to agree to anything but a swift clean break with this man—that he made no effort to restrain her or pull her back into his arms. ‘Ten days at most.’
‘A month minimum,’ he said coolly, ‘and of course it goes without saying I pay your rent here while you’re away.’