Buttoned-Up Secretary, British Boss Page 14

  He swam to the side, treading water for a second. Sensing that he was being watched, he glanced up and smiled, waving briefly before resuming his powerful overarm stroke.

  He knew he had needed to do this, to energize, to be on his own to think about what had happened last night. Because where should he go, what should he do now? he asked himself. Although Sabrina had left him in no doubt that she had welcomed his ardour—and had returned it with a passionate lack of inhibition—he had no idea what to do next. What, if anything, did she expect would happen now? When they got back to the UK, would the situation be what it had been before—business as usual? But for him that would be unthinkable. He could not bear to be near her and not be able to hold her in his arms; he didn’t have that much will power! But Sabrina had told him that no other man would ever claim her as his own, that that part of her life was over.

  He cursed inwardly. Had he taken her by surprise, was it something which she might already be regretting? And, worse, would she feel in the cold light of day that he’d taken advantage of her?

  He lessened his pace for a few moments, his brow clearing slightly as he remembered. After all, it was she who had come to his room last night. Yes, it had been supposedly for him to help her with that hook on her top, but she’d never asked for his assistance before. And the hook was a simple enough one to undo; she could have done it easily by herself.

  Well, he had taken it as an invitation, and he hadn’t waited for a second one. There was less than a week before they returned home. Had he spoiled the remainder of their holiday together? He was feeling as insecure as a teenager after a first date. Still deep in thought, he swung himself out of the pool.

  From her vantage point, Sabrina saw him walking towards the door to the games room. He was without swimming trunks, and her helpless gaze was riveted to his bronze, muscular body, the powerful strength of his physical being ravishing her senses once again.

  Turning quickly, Sabrina remembered that she, too, was naked and should get back to her own room. But almost before she could reach the door he had opened it, and they stood looking at each other. Then, as if making a sudden decision, he went over to her and kissed her gently, once, on the mouth.

  ‘You should have joined me—the water was perfect this morning,’ he said lightly, as if what had happened last night had never taken place.

  Sabrina swallowed, then said shakily, ‘Do you mind if I borrow this for a minute?’ pulling the duvet more closely around her.

  ‘Feel free,’ he said, going towards the bathroom to shower. ‘And I’ll take your turn to fetch the bread this morning,’ he added.

  Picking up the clothes she’d had on last night, Sabrina turned and made her way down to her own room, feeling dizzy with mixed emotions. She hadn’t known how he would treat her this morning, but one thing was crystal clear: his incredible love-making was par for the course. Today he’d barely looked at her—not properly, not meaningfully—and that swift kiss just now was merely a little acknowledgment that they were on slightly more personal terms than they’d been before; that well, hey, casual love-making was what people did, what grown-up, sophisticated people like him and the women he knew did.

  As she showered and got dressed, Sabrina suddenly felt a huge wave of depression flow over her. Last night had been a wonderful miracle cure for all ills, but today she was completely downbeat, a state she rarely allowed herself to sink into. And it didn’t take long to work it out.

  Alexander’s need for her was purely superficial and meant nothing to him. And why should she be surprised? He liked women well enough—he’d admitted that a long time ago—but only up to a certain limit. And that limit had been reached in the privacy of his room last night. So, having known all that, why had Sabrina allowed her own need to lead her astray? She had walked right into it, had walked uninvited into his room, and her not-so-innocent request that he undo the hook on her top had had the result she’d hoped for. So what was the problem?

  She knew the problem. She was not needed by anyone in the emotional sense. Not by the man she was hopelessly in love with and now, apparently, not by her sister either.

  For the first time in both their lives, Melly seemed to be standing perfectly well on her own two feet without Sabrina there to support, encourage and patch up.

  Stepping out of the shower, Sabrina reached for a towel and began to dry herself. Pausing reflectively for a second as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror, she remembered Alexander’s rather hurtful words the other day about her relationship with her sister. Perhaps he’d been right after all—perhaps it was a specific need, that she’d made herself more or less indispensable to Melly when it was being proved that she was not indispensable at all. But, what she really was, was guilty. Guilty of being over-protective, of stepping forward when she should have stepped back sometimes.

  Well, Sabrina thought, she was beginning to see the light. About everything, about everyone. She was wising up, mostly about herself. And she might as well accept it: emotionally, she was not essential to anyone. They could all do without her, thank you very much.

  Sabrina straightened her shoulders. She’d faced up to reality many times before in her life and she was good at sorting herself out. She’d do it again. There was still plenty of world out there waiting for her.

  And, as far as her employer’s future professional needs were required, he’d be able to find someone else, some other PA, easily enough when the time came. Just as he was going to have to do when—fingers crossed—she secured that post on offer.

  On the last night in France, Alexander invited Marcel and Simone over for supper.

  Sabrina had decided on her menu—chilled prawn bisque to start, followed by blanquette of veal with fresh vegetables, and a Victoria sponge-cake with cherry sauce and cream for dessert. And, as Alexander was no cook, he’d been only too happy to let her get on with it and confine himself to selecting the wine.

  For Sabrina, spending some time shopping and cooking was a welcome break from having had rather too much free time. She’d never been this long without having things to do.

  Now, as she spooned the sponge mixture into the tins carefully, she felt relieved that they were going home tomorrow. It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed herself, but ever since their fateful love-making things had been different between her and Alexander. He had seemed to be deliberately careful not to touch her much, and hadn’t made a single move that could be interpreted as amorous. And she certainly hadn’t invited herself into his room again. It was hard to actually describe the position between them, she thought. Their attitude towards each other was warm enough, and once Alexander had put his arm around her waist briefly. But she did feel that a sea change had taken place, that the waters had been temporarily ruffled and were now flat and calm again—with nothing to show there’d been any disturbance at all.

  Yes, it was time to go home, she thought as she slid the pans of cake mixture into the oven to cook. But what was she going to find when she got there? Melly’s new man might be sleeping under their roof for all she knew—how long might that be for? If he was, would Sabrina feel like an intruder in her own home?

  Much later, with Sabrina’s menu exclaimed over, and after every last morsel had been eaten, Simone and Marcel made moves to go home. Simone put her arms around Sabrina and hugged her tightly.

  ‘It has been good, très bon, to meet you, chérie,’ the Frenchwoman said. ‘And so good that the Barn has been occupied—even for a short time.’ She paused, darting a quick glance at Alexander. ‘You will bring Sabrina back again soon, won’t you, Alex?’ she said. ‘Your lovely home needs to be lived in, and we love having you as neighbours. So…why not come for Christmas? We do Christmas very well here. Our little hamlet looks like fairyland with all the lights, and we all go carol singing, and eat and drink far too much! Do say you will come, mon ami?’

  Alexander grinned down at Simone. ‘I’ll give it some thought, Simone,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know wheth
er Sabrina would want to come with me; she has family at home who need her, would expect her to be there at that time of the year.’

  Sabrina looked away, not bothering to respond. She had no doubt that as far as Melly was concerned this year it would be two’s company, three’s a crowd.

  ‘Well, anyway, before Christmas comes Sabrina and I have some serious work to do,’ Alexander said. ‘Two weeks off are as long as I can afford.’

  After the couple had gone, Alexander and Sabrina cleared up the supper things together, and as he wiped the last of the wine glasses he glanced down at her.

  ‘You’ve made a definite hit with those two,’ he said. ‘Marcel couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and Simone has taken a real fancy to you as well.’ He paused. ‘I shall be got at now, and nagged every time I ring them, to bring you back here.’

  Sabrina smiled at his words but said nothing, and in a minute he went on.

  ‘I’ve never spent Christmas here myself, but from what Simone said it sounds as if it might be OK. Maybe I’ll give it some thought.’ He paused. ‘But I suppose you’ll be needed at home to cook the turkey, Sabrina?’

  ‘I have a feeling that there could be a distinct change in routine this year,’ Sabrina said casually. ‘But I don’t want to think about Christmas…not yet. Christmas is a long way off.’

  ‘Not all that long,’ he countered. ‘And before that I’ve got to get started on the next novel. And I always crack on pretty well with the first section, so you’ll be kept busy too.’ He deliberately avoided mentioning the phone call from Sabrina’s ex-colleague about a possible appointment. Let sleeping dogs lie, he thought.

  ‘So I’m needed at my desk on Monday, then?’ Sabrina asked, thinking that that would give her less than forty-eight hours to collect her thoughts, do some washing and assess the situation at home.

  Alexander put his hands firmly on her shoulders and looked straight into Sabrina’s eyes.

  ‘You are,’ he said flatly. ‘And for as far into the future as it is logical to expect.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  AS THEY took their seats in the plane at Carcassonne, Sabrina didn’t know whether she was glad or sorry to be leaving France.

  She had to admit that Alexander had gone out of his way to see that she relaxed and enjoyed herself, showing her all around the area he loved so well. And she had enjoyed herself. He had been the perfect escort and companion—and, yes, the perfect lover, she thought. Their one romantic night together would stay in her memory for ever. But the thing which had made Sabrina feel dismal ever since that poignant time was that no words passed between them to reassure her, to tell her something. Physically, he had expressed his ardour—wasn’t that enough? For her, it was not enough and never would be. He hadn’t said, in the heat of their coupling, I love you, Sabrina—words she’d hoped he might say. But it had been a vain hope; she realized that. It was not Alexander McDonald’s way, and never would be.

  She sighed briefly. The uncomfortable conclusion had to be that on that magical evening he had needed her—they had needed each other—and that need had been fulfilled. Totally. And that was that. Now, it was back to reality, work and the status quo.

  Yet, even if their love-making had been a superficial event for him, Sabrina didn’t regret a thing. How could she regret being made love to by someone like Alexander McDonald, who had proved himself passionate, thoughtful and tender? Glancing up at him now, as he was putting their in-flight bags in the locker, she wondered if he’d actually thought about it at all afterwards. There’d certainly been no indication that he had.

  Sabrina decided to get a grip on herself, on reality. She would consign the whole experience to her precious box of memories and get on with her life. She’d had a wonderful holiday; she’d met the lovely LeFevre couple, and for the first time ever she was expecting to go home and not have to worry about her sister.

  They were waiting at the carousel for their cases when Alexander’s mobile rang. He raised his eyes at Sabrina as he answered it; he’d left it switched off for most of the holiday, but now it was possible that his publisher might appreciate a word.

  It wasn’t his publisher, it was Lydia.

  ‘Alex! Oh, thank God! I’ve been trying to reach you for two days.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been having a bit of a break, Lydia. What’s the matter?’ It was obvious that something was wrong.

  ‘It’s Angus. He had a heart attack on Thursday and he’s still in Intensive Care and…’

  ‘Where is he—where are you?’ Alexander demanded. Looking at him as he spoke, Sabrina could see the shock on his face.

  For a few moments she heard Lydia’s near-hysterical voice at the other end.

  ‘OK, Lydia, I’ll be with you in—’ he paused to glance at his watch ‘—about an hour. We’ll come straight over.’ There was another pause. ‘Tell Dad…Tell Dad I’m on my way.’

  He snapped the phone shut just as their cases appeared in front of them, and grabbing his and Sabrina’s in his strong grip, he looked down at her.

  ‘My father’s had a heart attack,’ he said briefly, and for the first time since she’d known him Sabrina saw a look of real fear, real concern, on the handsome features. ‘We need to get to the hospital—now,’ he added briefly.

  Sabrina had to trot alongside him to keep up as they made for the exit, and as they reached the taxi rank she said, ‘I’ll find my own way home, Alexander.’

  ‘No, you won’t. I want you to come with me…please,’ he said bluntly. Sabrina thought, well, yes; maybe there was something she could do to help.

  It took less than an hour to get to the hospital, then they quickly made their way up the flight of stairs to the private room which had been allocated to Angus. As they almost ran along the corridor, Sabrina felt her stomach lurch with dread. She hadn’t visited a hospital for a long time…

  Almost immediately they were shown into the darkened room, and Lydia got up from her chair, her face a mixture of torment and despair. ‘Oh, Alexander, I’m so glad to see you…’ The words came tumbling out. ‘It’s been such a terrible shock—Bruno came to the hospital with me when it happened, of course, but he’s got a raging flu and they’ve instructed him to stay away.’ Clearly overwrought, she put her hand on the edge of the bed to steady herself for a second. ‘Naturally, I haven’t left Angus since he was brought in here, but…’

  Alexander led his mother gently back to sit down. ‘Now, Lydia, start from the beginning,’ he said quietly.

  Feeling slightly as if she was intruding on a personal family affair, Sabrina stood listening as Alexander’s mother told him what had happened.

  For several moments he let Lydia tell him the details—how Angus had come back from one of his regular trips abroad, hadn’t felt very well after supper and had collapsed.

  ‘I thought I’d lost him then, Alexander,’ Lydia whispered. ‘I couldn’t pick him up from the floor and he looked so…so awful. He’s come round once or twice, but he doesn’t know me, Alexander. He doesn’t know me…’

  Now the tears began to flow, and Sabrina frowned slightly as she watched the scene in front of her. From what Alexander had said, it was not a particularly loving marriage, yet his mother was clearly distraught at the thought she might lose her husband of so many years.

  Alexander went silently over to the bed where his father lay, and for several long moments just looked down at the inert figure. Then he caught hold of Angus’s hand in both of his and started rubbing it gently.

  ‘Hello, Dad,’ he whispered. ‘It’s Alex…Can you hear me, Dad?’

  Just then, a young nurse came in followed by the doctor, and for several minutes they had a subdued discussion with Alexander, while Lydia sat like a crumpled bundle of clothes in the corner, just staring into space. Gone was the extravagant make-up, the ostentatious clothes; she was dressed in a plain navy skirt and jacket, and she didn’t seem to have registered that it was Sabrina who’d come with Alexander. But then, she thought, she’d
been invisible to Lydia that other time, and obviously still was.

  The nurse and doctor left the room, and Alexander beckoned to Sabrina to come over as he spoke to his mother.

  ‘They’re still waiting for more results before they can give us much idea of the prognosis,’ he said quietly. ‘But you must go home, Lydia, and get some rest. I’ll stay tonight, and for as long as I’m needed.’ He glanced across at Sabrina. ‘You remember my secretary Sabrina, don’t you, Lydia?’

  Lydia turned listless eyes to Sabrina. ‘Yes—yes, I remember.’

  ‘Well, we’ll take over for now. I’ll get them to call a cab for you—and try not to worry too much. They tell me that all is not lost.’

  Lydia got slowly to her feet, obviously thankful that someone was there to take over, her tears starting again. ‘I feel so wretched, Alexander…’ she began, and he interrupted.

  ‘Of course you do—you’re worn out. And you’ve had a shock. You must try and hold on, Lydia.’

  ‘No—no, I mean I’ve not been a good wife to Angus. I know I’m selfish and have always put myself first when I should have thought more of him—and of you two boys, too…’

  Alexander held his mother away from him for a second, a look of puzzlement crossing his features. Was this Lydia talking?

  ‘I owe Angus so much—I owe him everything. He was the only one who understood me, understood everything about me,’ Lydia whispered.