Boss Meets Baby

by Carol Marinelli

  Just as her heart leapt at the stirring memory, Georgia recalled him asking her if she was in a hurry to leave him. The answer to that was definitely no. She’d only said what she’d said just now because his coldness towards her had upset her. No matter what the Laird of Glenteign thought of her, Georgia couldn’t turn her back on him…not yet. Not until it was really time for her to go.

  There was obviously a reason he sometimes seemed to shut her out, and the clue lay with his past—she was certain of it. She wanted to help him, so she would stay.

  Certain about her decision, she felt her anger dissipate. ‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘I won’t talk about leaving any more. We just got off on the wrong foot this morning, that’s all. I can see that now.’

  She was interlocking her fingers, staring down at them, when she heard the creak of the leather chair that Keir was occupying. When she glanced up again, he had swivelled it round to regard her. Not having entirely finished what she’d been going to say, Georgia sucked in her breath and continued, ‘To make things a little easier for both of us, apart from working with you during the day I’ll keep out of your way as much as possible at all other times. Then we won’t have to make polite conversation with each other when we don’t feel like it.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘I don’t mind—’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? I said that won’t be necessary!’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’

  Throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, Georgia stared at him in disbelief. There was clearly something about her that was pressing all the wrong buttons with him this morning—something she just didn’t get. Either that, or he was unhappy about something that had happened on his trip.

  As soon as the idea had planted itself in her mind, she— found she needed to have it confirmed. Georgia didn’t want to add to his troubles—all she wanted to do was help alleviate them. Her nature was that she always tried to help.

  ‘Did something go wrong in New York?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is that why you seem so on edge?’

  Georgia was beginning to wonder if it was a woman that was at the root of his bad mood, and she didn’t include herself—in spite of Keir’s suggestion last night that he’d looked forward to coming back to see her. Had there been a woman Keir liked in New York? A woman he might even be in love with? Had that woman rejected him?

  Jealousy vying with fear inside her, Georgia had to work hard to keep her expression impassive.

  ‘Nothing went wrong in NewYork, Georgia…other— than the fact that I didn’t really want to be there!’

  ‘But you seemed in such a hurry to go there!’ she— exclaimed.

  ‘Did I?’ His handsome brow creased as though he were perplexed.

  ‘You really are completely impossible!’ Georgia accused him, frustrated that she clearly wasn’t going to get any answers that made any sense to anything today. Dropping her hands to either side of her shapely hips in the red linen dress, she sighed heavily.

  ‘That aside…perhaps we should both just get down to the business of the day and restore a little peace to the morning? We’ve had enough storms of one kind or another for a while—wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Fine! What would you like me to do for you first?’ Her temper helplessly simmering, Georgia tossed back her hair and waited for instructions.

  Silently surveying him for a moment, she saw a distracting dimple appear at the corner of Keir’s disturbing— mouth.

  ‘That could take us into a whole new interesting arena if I were deliberately to misconstrue that question.’ He grinned. ‘Want to ask me again? But perhaps this time with a little less provocative passion?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  A SHAFT OF SUNLIGHT beamed in from a small side casement window and created a pool of light in the middle of the floor. It lit up the muted reds and golds of an old faded Persian carpet that had been unfolded there a long time ago—possibly even before Keir had been born. Round the edges of that eye-catching pool of light were some of the now superfluous remnants of his family’s past.

  In one corner were a pair of discarded Tiffany lamps that had once resided in his father’s study—the— study that now belonged to Keir—and next to them an old oak dresser-cum china cabinet, long empty of any fine display of porcelain and pottery, and— now home to a generous coating of dust.

  Piled around the room in general haphazard fashion were myriad cardboard boxes, splitting at the seams with books and ornaments and trinkets, and possibly somewhere in amongst all that the beloved chess set that his mother had surprisingly presented to him one Christmas when his father had been away on business. It was a gift that had often been utilised as a means of escape and distraction from James Strachan’s sour temper, and its home had nearly always been this attic.

  Robbie and Keir would steal away up here as often as they could, to shut the door on their parents’ terrible— rows, and locked in the strategy of the game would briefly escape the trauma that seemed to underline their childhood. After their mother had died there’d been no more refuge in the attic to play chess.

  Both boys had gone to a local public school, as their father had done before them, but they hadn’t been allowed to board like most of the other pupils. If they had, Keir sometimes wondered if the bleak-ness— of his home life wouldn’t have scarred him quite as badly—but James had seemed to take particular delight in demanding that his sons came home at the end of each school day, just so that he could remain in rigid control of every aspect of their lives and plague them further with his meanness and ill temper.

  Made to do various jobs round the house as well as work on the estate, they’d also regularly had to listen to his various rants and small-minded preju-dices— over the political situation, or his belligerent belief that ‘people just don’t know their place these days,’ and that they should show the gentry more respect. When Keir had invariably started to disagree with his point of view and dared to express his own his father had demonstrated his fury with his fists…

  Feeling slightly nauseous at the relentless tide of unwanted memories that washed over him—each one like a stinging cut that had never healed—Keir moved with trepidation into the room and acciden-tally— trod on something hard underfoot. Looking down to see what it was, he picked up a once lovingly painted miniature replica of a nineteenth-century Scottish soldier. For a few moments he scarcely breathed. Then, his palm curling tightly round the small toy, so that the metal edges dug painfully into his flesh, tears stabbed the backs of his eyes like dagger points.

  ‘Robbie…’ he murmured fiercely, a thick, merciless— ache inside his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Robbie…I’m so sorry…’

  ‘Georgia!Are you bringing that coffee?’ Keir bellowed.

  Turning towards the thickly carpeted staircase, with— its almost Gothic carved figures on the newels, Georgia was careful to balance the silver tray she carried as she ascended the stairs. As she went, she took a deep breath in and scowled.

  ‘I wonder whatever happened to good old-fash-ioned— manners?’ she grumbled.

  Even after the little talk they’d had earlier, her boss had been like a wounded bear all morning, and his mood was showing no sign of improving any time soon. Just as she reached the landing and approached— the study door, she saw Keir’s tall, broadshouldered— figure impatiently pacing the floor. His dark straight hair, sticking out a little at odd angles, attested— to the fact that it had taken the brunt of his impatience. Immediately honing in on her presence, he— didn’t trouble to conceal his irritation.

  ‘For God’s sake, don’t hover! Just come inside, will— you?’ he commanded.

  Just about holding onto her own temper at his belligerent mood, Georgia reluctantly crossed the threshold into the study.

  ‘If you remember to say please, I will,’ she retorted smartly.

  Her glance colliding with his steely blue glare, Georgia’s heart bumped indignantl
y as she carried out his request, her jaw set mutinously to show her displeasure.

  So much for restoring some peace to their working morning! The half an hour’s breather Keir had taken earlier to—in his own words—‘get his head straight’ clearly— hadn’t done much good. Maybe she should suggest he spend some more time on his own?

  ‘I can take the letters into the library and do them there, if you need some privacy for a while?’ she offered, thinking that that would probably be the best arrangement. There was a spare computer all set up in there, and it wouldn’t be a chore.

  She loved the lofty elegant room, with its studious yet inviting ambience, and it was filled to the rafters with books of all kinds. The shelves that contained them were made from oak inlaid with maple, Moira had told her, and some of the books had been in Keir’s family for centuries. With its worn but lovely carpets and its big overstuffed sofas and chairs it was a room to sit and dream in, or while away a rainy day in unashamed comfort.

  But Georgia saw the flicker of a dissenting muscle in Keir’s chiselled cheek and knew that her helpful suggestion had gone down like a lead balloon.

  ‘There’s no need for you to go anywhere else. This is where I work, and this is where I expect my secretary to work!’

  Standing next to her, he slammed his hand down onto the desk to emphasise his point. The sudden violent movement dislodged the tray Georgia had just placed there, and as he reached out to try and stop it from crashing to the floor the full-to-the-brim silver coffee-pot toppled over, splashing its scalding contents all over his wrist.

  ‘Arrgh! Damn!’

  Georgia acted immediately.

  ‘Let’s get you to a bathroom. We’ll go to the one across the hall.’ Already with her hand at his back, she— started to push him towards the door.

  ‘I don’t bloody believe this!’ he muttered furiously.

  Examining his shocked face, Georgia led him into the marble-tiled bathroom and hurriedly turned the cold tap full on. As the water gushed out from the faucet she held his arm beneath it, watching it soak into the coffee stained sleeve covering his forearm. She wouldn’t be attempting to peel back the material until she was certain that no skin would come away with it.

  ‘We need to do this for at least ten minutes,’ she told him, her heart racing fast at what had happened. ‘Thank God the coffee wasn’t quite boiling hot…By the time I’d brought it from the kitchen and came up the stairs it would have cooled down considerably. I don’t think you’ll need to go to hospital, but it will probably sting like crazy for a few hours or more. Are you okay?’

  Acting purely on impulse, she pushed back a lock of his midnight-dark hair. But seeing him flinch, she wondered if she had taken a liberty she shouldn’t have.

  ‘I’m fine.’ His breath exhaled on a ragged sigh, Keir turned to glance sideways at Georgia, a surprising— lift at one corner of his mouth. ‘I didn’t know you were a trained nurse in one of your previous incarnations,’ — he commented wryly.

  ‘I did some first-aid training with the St John’s Ambulance organisation. When you’re left to raise a fourteen-year old boy all on your own, you need to know some basic first-aid skills, let me tell you!’

  ‘Ouch!’ He blanched as Georgia gently moved his arm, to make sure the water was reaching the entire area where the coffee had been spilt. ‘I’m lucky that you were around and knew what to do,’ he— remarked.

  It struck Keir then that he felt total confidence in Georgia’s healing skills. She was capable and firm when she needed to be, and yet exceedingly gentle too. As her calm voice washed over him and her soft skin inevitably came into contact with his, where she held his hand and guided his forearm beneath the splashing water, he was aware that even though he was in considerable pain he very much liked this sudden enforced closeness with Georgia.

  Moira Guthrie put her head round the door just then, her flushed round face bearing rosy evidence that she’d rushed up the stairs.

  ‘What on earth has happened?’ she asked breath-lessly,— coming into the room. ‘I was in the hall and I heard you cry out. Oh, good gracious! Was it the hot coffee, lassie?’

  As she saw that Georgia had clearly taken charge, and— knew what she was doing, some of the anxiety drained out of the housekeeper’s face.

  ‘It spilled across his wrist. Just a little longer,’ Georgia told Keir, when she saw him flinch again in pain. ‘Believe me this will help. Moira, do you think you could find me a clean, dry dressing? And if you wouldn’t mind going into my bedroom and getting my handbag? I’ve got some arnica in there, which is good for shock. We’ll wait here.’

  ‘Stupid bloody thing to happen!’ His expression fierce for a moment, Keir shook his head from side to side as if in disbelief.

  ‘I’ve often found that when I’m angry I end up hurting myself somehow,’ Georgia shared with him gently, not wanting to inflame his temper any further, but— needing to make what she hoped was a helpful observation. ‘Perhaps you need to find a safer way to release the anger you’re holding on to and let it go?’

  ‘No doubt you’re right.’

  He reflected on his reluctant yet compelling visit to the attic earlier—the first in the nine months since he’d been back at Glenteign. He’d been searching for something…exactly what he didn’t know…but something that might give him some clue as to how he was going to overcome this great weight of sorrow and pain in his heart. But Keir had not left that room of memories feeling much forgiveness or any closure in his heart about his past. Instead, rage had welled up inside him afresh at what he and Robbie had endured, and the indelible scars it had left him with.

  He was only beginning to realise now, after suffering— this stupid accident, how dangerous it was to let that rage dominate his emotions. Georgia—in her surprising wisdom—was absolutely correct with her sage advice. Except that Keir didn’t know how he could begin to ‘safely’release the rage and hurt he felt inside. Since he’d been back at Glenteign he’d almost felt like a prisoner there, locked inside his painful memories, with reminders at every turn, instead of a man in charge of his own destiny. He knew that such a debilitating state of affairs could not go on…

  ‘But there are some things that are almost too damn hard to do and, I can’t help the way I feel,’ he continued, his mouth a thin, bitter line. ‘What? You’re not going to tell me I should try harder?’

  There was something so bleak in his riveting blue gaze as he trained it directly on Georgia’s face that her heart constricted in pain. She tore her glance from his with difficulty, and focused once more on the running water splashing onto his arm.

  ‘I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do. I think you just need to try and stay calm. It won’t help the pain if you get yourself more agitated…no matter whether you’re hurting inside or out.’

  Minutes later, Moira appeared with a small first aid kit, from which Georgia selected a dressing of the appropriate size. She instructed Keir to sit down in the cane chair next to the bath so that she could apply it to his arm. Thankfully, she was able to peel back the soaked material without any detrimental effect to his scalded skin. The wound looked red and angry, but— she could already tell that in a week to ten days’ time— it would heal nicely, without even leaving a scar.

  Relief ebbed through her in a thankful wave and, tipping— out an arnica tablet from the packet she had taken from her handbag, she gave it to Keir. ‘Put this on the end of your tongue and let it dissolve. It will help with the shock. I’m just going to put this dressing on for you, and then you should go and put your feet up for a while. Perhaps you could lie on one of the big sofas in the library? They’re nice and comfy. Then I’ll bring you up a cup of hot, sweet tea.’

  ‘Oh I can do that for the Chief, lassie! I’ll find some of his favourite biscuits too.’

  Glad to have something else to do other than stand by and watch Georgia put Keir’s dressing on, Moira bustled out of the room again.

  Finishing her task, Geo
rgia sat back on the edge of the bath and smiled. ‘I think you’ll live to fight another day!’

  ‘Thanks to you.’ Grimly examining the stark white dressing covering a large area of his forearm, Keir quickly moved his gaze to look at Georgia instead. ‘My own private nurse as well as my very efficient secretary…Does your after-care extend to tucking me into bed tonight, I wonder?’

  ‘Definitely not!’ Although her retort was smart, Georgia sensed a wave of heat suffuse her cheeks.

  ‘Pity.’

  There was the semblance of a rueful smile about his lips, but his piercing blue eyes could not disguise his longing.

  Trying to convince herself that it must simply be the aftermath of shock, or the surge of adrenaline that came with it, Georgia regarded his hard handsome face with renewed concern. With its sculpted lean angles and the firm cleft in the centre of his rather arrogant chin, there was something about it that was so compelling that she was filled with the strongest, almost— irresistible desire to touch him. Not just with the gentle ministrations of a healer either. But with the almost overwhelmingly demanding need of a woman who knew herself to be dangerously beguiled by him…

  ‘You really should go and lie down for a while!’ she— exclaimed, jumping up from the edge of the bath. ‘We have to be careful that shock doesn’t set in. You can be quite ill otherwise. Shall I help you into the library?’

  It was quite remarkable to Keir that he could be in so much pain from his scald and yet so imbued with desire for the woman who had tended him that he could scarcely think straight! So much so that he didn’t want to go and lie down alone. If Georgia came with him, then that would be quite a different matter entirely…