The Boss's Forbidden Secretary

by Lee Wilkinson

  As she approached the door there was a sudden flurry of movement, a soft pattering of velvet paws, and a large, imposing cat appeared by her side.

  He was the colour of golden marmalade and beautifully marked, with a white chest and legs, and an orange and white ringed tail.

  The lower half of his face was a snowy white which ended in an inverted V above his nose, while the upper part of his head and his ears were a deep golden-orange, making him look as if he was wearing a batman-style helmet.

  Cathy, who liked cats, exclaimed, ‘Well, hello, where did you spring from?’

  Looking up at her with big, clear eyes the pale greeny-gold of quartz, he opened his mouth in a silent miaow.

  Stooping to stroke him, she observed, ‘My, but you’re a handsome boy.’

  Apparently pleased by the compliment, he began to wind sinuously around her slender ankles. His fur was thick and soft, and he held his luxuriant tail aloft like a royal standard.

  Her hand on the doorknob, she said, ‘I don’t know whether you’re allowed in here, so you’d better make yourself scarce.’

  Looking affronted, he fell back a step or two, but as she opened the door he darted in ahead of her and settled himself in front of the fire, where he sat with his back to her, aloof and reproachful.

  Closing the door, she began, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know whether…’

  The apology died on her lips as she found herself looking into Ross’s cold grey eyes rather than Janet’s warm brown ones.

  Sitting at the computer, his face hard, his jaw set, he glanced pointedly at his watch.

  ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I overslept.’

  ‘So I see. I’d rather hoped that this time Marley had found a couple who were decent and reliable. But it seems I was wrong on both counts.’

  Stiffly, she said, ‘I can assure you it won’t happen again. In future I’ll take good care to set the alarm.’

  ‘There may not be a future if your husband has messed up the day’s arrangements by being late.’

  ‘I’m sure Carl wouldn’t have been late.’

  ‘What time did he leave?’

  ‘I—I don’t really know.’

  ‘You didn’t hear him go?’

  She shook her head. ‘I must have been asleep.’

  ‘And he didn’t wake you?’

  ‘He probably didn’t think it was necessary. He’s used to me being up fairly early.’

  ‘What time did you get up?’

  ‘It was a quarter to nine,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But I hadn’t had much sleep and…’

  Suddenly recalling Kevin’s joking remark about newlyweds having something better to do than sleep, she flushed scarlet.

  Watching the colour flood into her face, Ross drawled, ‘Of course, when you’ve had to make do with a substitute…’

  Hearing the underlying bitterness, she whispered, ‘I’m sorry. Truly I am. I only wish I could change what happened—’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ he said bitingly. ‘After you’d gone last night Marley said how much she liked you and described you as quiet and sweet and rather shy. The others agreed. And your husband, who obviously thinks the world of you, added that you were loyal and very special and he was a lucky man to have you in his life. I wonder how he and the others would react if they knew the rather sordid truth?’

  Through dry lips, she asked, ‘Were you thinking of telling them?’

  ‘That all depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘If you do exactly as I tell you, and don’t get up to any tricks with Beinn Mor’s male guests, for your husband’s sake I’m prepared to keep quiet and give you a chance.’

  ‘You mean I’m on probation?’

  ‘You catch on quickly,’ he told her sardonically. ‘But then just because you’re a wanton, it doesn’t mean that you’re not intelligent enough.’

  Watching every trace of colour drain from her face, he said, ‘I take it the word wanton offends you? But I’m afraid that when a newly married woman acts in the way you did, I can’t think of a kinder one…’

  ‘I…I don’t…’ There was a roaring in her ears, and the room began to swirl around her.

  Ross moved quickly and caught her as she swayed. A supporting arm around her, he steered her to one of the armchairs in front of the fire and, having lowered her gently into it, pressed her head down to her knees.

  After a few seconds the faintness began to pass, and, lifting her head, she managed shakily, ‘Thank you, I’m fine now.’

  He looked down at her.

  She was white to the lips, and her eyes appeared to be too big for her pale face.

  ‘You don’t look fine,’ he said curtly. ‘You look like a ghost. Did you have any breakfast?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When was the last time you sat down to a meal?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘Last night you scarcely ate a thing. What about lunchtime? Did you stop on the way here?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘So you’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast yesterday—if then…?’

  She didn’t answer, but, reading her expression correctly, he said impatiently, ‘Have you no sense? Your blood sugar must be so low it’s a wonder you haven’t passed out before now.’

  Striding over to the mantelpiece, he pressed a bell. A short time later there was a tap at the door and the young maid who had served dinner the previous evening appeared.

  ‘Ah, Flora,’ he addressed the girl pleasantly, ‘will you please ask Cook to send a tray of toast and honey and a pot of coffee?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ With a little bob, she turned and hurried away.

  Dropping into the chair opposite Cathy’s, Ross looked at her, his expression unreadable.

  Then, taking her by surprise, his tone despairing rather than angry, he demanded, ‘Newly married to a decent man like Carl—what made you do it?’

  She half shook her head. ‘I’m sorry… I only wish I could explain.’

  ‘There’s no need to, really. It’s self-explanatory. Too many hormones and too little self-control.’

  His mouth twisting in the semblance of a smile, he added, ‘When I met you, I thought you were different, special… And because of the way you responded to me, like a fool I fondly imagined that you felt the same way about me.’

  Then savagely he said, ‘Have you the faintest idea what it feels like to think you’ve found near perfection and then discover you’ve been made a fool of, that the woman you thought so highly of is just a cheating little bitch…?’

  Caught on the raw, she flashed, ‘And I suppose you’ve never cheated?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ he answered uncompromisingly. ‘While I was engaged I never looked at anyone else, and if I ever get married the same will apply. I have to admit that when there’s no special woman around I don’t live like a monk. But I’ve always drawn the line at getting involved with anyone who was married. Now I find myself in the invidious position of having slept with an employee’s wife.’

  For perhaps the first time she realized just how deep his anger and disillusionment went.

  As she recalled the gentle passion he had shown her that night, the warmth and melting sweetness of his lovemaking, a giant hand seemed to tighten round her heart.

  Desperate to wipe that terrible bleakness from his face, she wished yet again that she could tell him the truth.

  But it was no use, she thought despairingly. It wouldn’t solve anything. What he had felt for her had gone for ever. He would never again feel the same.

  Fighting back tears, she repeated unhappily, ‘I’m sorry… I’d better leave…’

  ‘What good would that do?’ he asked curtly. ‘You couldn’t leave without giving a reason. And if you told your husband the truth, apart from destroying whatever trust he has in you, it would mean depriving him of a job that he obviously wants, and leaving Marley and Kevin in the lurch… No, I think we’ll both have to live with what happ
ened and—’

  He stopped speaking as a tap at the door heralded the arrival of the maid with a tray. When she had placed it on the coffee table, she asked, ‘Will that be all, sir?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Flora.’

  When the door had closed behind the girl, Ross filled two cups with the fragrant coffee before turning his attention to the toast.

  Having spread a slice liberally with butter and honey, he set the plate in front of Cathy. ‘There… Let me see you eat that.’

  About to say that she disliked honey, Cathy thought better of it and, under his uncompromising gaze, managed to force the toast down between sips of coffee.

  As he reached to spread another slice, she said hastily, ‘I really can’t eat any more… But I would like another cup of coffee, please.’

  He had just finished pouring it when the phone on his desk rang.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said with formal politeness, and went to pick up the receiver.

  While he and the caller held a low-toned conversation, Cathy drank the coffee and tried, without much success, to get a grip on her emotions.

  She had just reached to put the cup and saucer on the table, when the cat, who had been washing himself with fastidious care, rose to his feet, stretched stiff-legged and then, to show he’d forgiven her, leapt gracefully into her lap.

  Feeling wretched and still perilously close to tears, Cathy found it a comfort to have something warm and alive to stroke.

  He had just rolled onto his back, presenting a spotless white tummy to be tickled, when Ross came back to stand in front of the fire.

  Frowning a little, he asked, ‘How long have you and Onions been acquainted?’

  Her voice a little husky, Cathy said, ‘We met just now in the hall.’

  ‘I must say I was somewhat startled when he came in with you.’

  ‘I’m sorry… I wasn’t sure if he was allowed in your study, but—’

  ‘No, no, that isn’t what I meant.’ With a crooked grin, he added, ‘It’s just that he’s very much a lone-wolf type of cat, if you see what I mean…’

  Just for an instant she glimpsed the Ross she had first met, and her heart turned over.

  ‘He usually won’t have any truck with strangers. Or anyone else for that matter. He tolerates the cook because she feeds him, and the rest of the household because he must, but so far I’m the only one he’s allowed to get close to him. My ex- fiancée tried to make friends and got bitten for her pains. But he seems to have taken a fancy to you.’

  His tone, though far from friendly, was neutral enough to encourage her to ask, ‘You said his name was Onions?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The monosyllable was somewhat daunting, but still she pressed on, ‘It’s an unusual name for a cat.’

  ‘There’s a reason for it…’

  She had just decided he wasn’t going to tell her what that reason was, when he went on, ‘A couple of years ago I was on my way here from London, and I stopped at a service station for a coffee. When I returned to the car, I heard what I first thought was a young baby mewling. Then I realized the sound was coming from an old cardboard box that had been tossed down beside a litter bin. I looked inside and there was this tiny bedraggled kitten. From the dried tops and skins he was lying on, it was apparent that the box had been used for storing onions.

  ‘He was so weak from starvation I didn’t think he’d survive. But once I’d managed to get some warm milk inside him—a woman in the service station café kindly sacrificed one of her baby’s spare feeding bottles—he rallied and never looked back.

  ‘Marley was trying to think of a suitable name for him when she noticed that on one of his white hind legs he had two small oval patches of pale orange that looked remarkably like dried shallots. That, coupled with the debris in the box, made us start to call him Onions pro tem. But somehow the name stuck.’

  A smile lit up Cathy’s face as, momentarily forgetting her woes, she remarked, ‘Though the name Onions seems a bit un¬dignified for a cat with so much character, oddly enough, it suits him.’

  Seeing that smile, Ross tightened his mouth into a hard line, and, rising abruptly to his feet, he said, ‘If you’re feeling better it’s high time we both got some work done.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Come on, Onions…’

  ‘First, I’ve got some business to attend to that has nothing to do with the estate,’ Ross told her. ‘But presumably, as you said you could cope, you have some bookkeeping experience?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you can use a computer?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then, as I’ve made a start, you should be able to get on for an hour or so without me.’

  ‘I’m quite capable of working alone on a permanent basis,’ she informed him stiffly.

  Not giving an inch, he retorted, ‘I hope you’ll allow me to be the judge of that.’

  Without another word, he added fresh pine logs to the fire and, escorted by Onions, departed, closing the door behind him.

  Cathy went over to the desk and, struggling to push aside all thoughts but those of work, settled herself to carry on where Ross had left off.

  Though the handwritten accounts were slightly spidery, they proved to be clear and painstakingly correct, so it was child’s play to transfer them to the computer.

  Determined to show Ross that as far as the job was concerned he couldn’t fault her, she worked steadily until there was a tap at the door.

  In answer to her, ‘Come in,’ Flora appeared, carrying a tray of coffee and sandwiches and a bowl of mixed fruit.

  ‘Mr Dalgowan asked me to bring you this…’

  Smiling at the girl, she said, ‘Thank you, Flora. If you’d like to put it on the coffee table?’

  When she’d done as she was bidden, with a little bob the maid scurried away.

  Having moved to sit by the fire, Cathy poured a cup of coffee and helped herself to a ham and salad sandwich. It was delicious and, her usual healthy appetite reasserting itself, she ate the rest of the sandwiches before peeling an orange.

  As soon as she had finished, she slipped along to the flat to wash her hands.

  When she went back to the study, she found the tray had gone and the fire had been made up.

  Returning to the computer, she stayed there until it began to get dark and she was forced to pause and switch on the light.

  That done, she resumed work, her concentration such that she lost all track of time.

  When the phone began to ring, she jumped.

  Reaching to pick up the receiver, she said a cautious, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Where are you?’ Carl’s voice asked.

  ‘In Mr Dalgowan’s study.’

  ‘You’re not still working? Have you any idea what time it is?’

  A quick glance at her watch showed it was almost a quarter to seven. The fire had died down, and she was stiff from sitting in one position.

  ‘I didn’t realize it was so late,’ she admitted.

  ‘With not seeing you this morning,’ Carl went on, ‘I forgot to mention that on Saturday nights there’s always an après-ski party at Beinn Mor. So, when you’ve had time to change into your party frock, I’ll pop up for you.’

  Though she felt tired and had a dull headache, knowing that it would look odd if she didn’t join Carl, she agreed, ‘Right, I’ll be ready.’

  She saved the work she had done, turned off the computer and hurried back to the flat.

  When she tried to fit the key into the lock, she found that the door wasn’t closed properly and it moved under the slight pressure.

  Carl must already be there. He’d obviously come straight over and left the door open for her. ‘I’m back,’ she called. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  There was no answer, and a glance in the various rooms soon confirmed that, apart from herself, the flat was empty.

  Of course! Carl had mentioned that sometimes the door failed to latch, and that must have happened when she’d l
eft at lunchtime.

  But, thinking back, she was certain she had closed it properly. She could remember hearing the latch click into place.

  Perhaps Carl had popped back for something during the afternoon?

  No, surely he’d been out all day?

  Then maybe the maid had come in, after all?

  But everything was just as she had left it. Carl’s breakfast dishes were still unwashed, the used towels were still in a damp pile in the bathroom and neither of the beds had been made.

  Oh, well, it was no use worrying about it. If someone had been in, no harm had been done…

  And she must get a move on.

  Dropping the keys into her shoulder bag, she made herself an instant coffee and swallowed a couple of aspirins, before showering quickly.

  That done, she donned a silky cocktail dress in soft shades of grey and lavender with a slightly flared skirt and a scooped neckline.

  The simple cut showed off her slender waist, the curve of her breasts, and somewhat more of her cleavage than she was totally comfortable with. But it was the only party dress she had, so it would have to do.

  Knowing the journey would be door to door, she decided on court shoes rather than boots, which might prove too warm for a party.

  Lightly made up to hide her paleness, she took her hair into a smooth, gleaming coil and fastened small gold hoops to her lobes.

  She had just slipped into a cream hooded jacket with a soft suede finish—a fashion statement rather than a serious winter outfit—and picked up her bag, when Carl appeared in the doorway.

  ‘You look great,’ he commented with approval. ‘Though with shoes like that I may have to carry you to the car.’

  ‘Had I better…?’ Suddenly noticing his lightweight footwear, she stopped and demanded, ‘What about you?’

  ‘If I need them I have boots and all the necessary winter equipment over at the lodge… And I was only joking about the shoes… Your chariot awaits you right outside the door, so you’ll be fine as you are.’

  Snowflakes were drifting and eddying, soft as a lover’s caress, as they got into the car and drove the short distance to Beinn Mor.