The Boss's Forbidden Secretary

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The Boss's Forbidden Secretary Page 9

by Lee Wilkinson


  The effects of the cold, and a kind of belated shock, had made her start to tremble in every limb as, clutching her bag, the tears still sliding down her cheeks, she climbed out unsteadily.

  Her feet were so numb that she was unable to feel them, and she stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught and held her.

  With his free hand he opened the door, then, lifting her, cradling her against his chest like a baby, he carried her inside and closed the door behind them with his heel.

  She had opened her mouth to tell him that her keys were in her bag, but he went straight past the door to the flat, across the main hall and up that lovely sweep of staircase, reaching the top with no discernible change in his breathing.

  A small part of her brain was marvelling at how fit he must be when, turning right, he stopped outside a beautifully carved door.

  Stooping a little, he turned the knob without putting her down and carried her into what appeared to be his own private suite.

  The sitting room was beautifully furnished with well-chosen antiques, but a large sheepskin rug and cushioned armchairs drawn up before a blazing fire gave it a cosy appearance.

  His bedroom was large and furnished with period pieces and a handsome four-poster.

  Finding her voice, she asked through chattering teeth, ‘Why have you brought me here?’

  Without bothering to answer, he crossed to the door of an en suite bathroom that stood a little ajar and, shouldering it open, strode inside.

  Setting her down carefully, and still half supporting her, he tossed aside the handbag she was still clutching and helped her out of the anorak.

  When he would have stripped off the rest of her saturated clothing, she made an attempt to push him away and demanded hoarsely, ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Helping to prevent hypothermia.’

  Panic making her sound ungracious, she said, ‘I can manage. I don’t need any help.’

  ‘Let’s see, shall we?’ He took his arm away and stepped back.

  Without his support her knees buckled and she was forced to clutch at the sink.

  Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she realized she was a sorry sight. Her clothes were plastered to her, her eyes looked like dark holes in her white, tear-stained face, and her hair had come free from its clip and was hanging round her shoulders in wet rats’ tails.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded impatiently.

  Knowing he wouldn’t move until she had made a start, she bent and tugged fruitlessly at one saturated shoe. Bending down made her head swim, and she swayed dangerously.

  Muttering something under his breath, he caught her and, stooping, removed both her shoes before taking off her dress.

  When he would have stripped off the undies that were clinging round her like a wet shroud, she made an inarticulate protest.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said curtly. ‘I’ve seen you naked before and you were quite happy about it.’

  ‘That was different,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Different in what way?’

  Then they had both been naked and drawn together by a wonderful surge of feeling that had raised them to the heights and made everything seem right, destined to happen. But now everything had changed, and it would just be her that was naked…

  When she remained silent, he said sardonically, ‘If you’re afraid that if I see you naked I won’t be able to keep my hands off you, you don’t need to worry. I can assure you that you’re quite safe from me.’

  His tone made it plain that he wouldn’t touch her with a bargepole, and, mortified, she said with pathetic dignity, ‘You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear, and I’d like to do the same. I don’t want your help. I just want you to leave me alone…’

  Losing patience, he said curtly, ‘For heaven’s sake stop acting like an idiot and let’s have you out of those wet things and into a warm shower.’

  Brooking no further argument, he stripped off the rest of her sodden clothes and took the clip from her dishevelled hair.

  When he’d adjusted the temperature of the shower to just warm, he steered her beneath the flow of water and ordered, ‘Hold on to the rail, and stay there until I tell you.’

  Holding on as he’d instructed, she closed her eyes and let the comforting warmth seep through her until she ceased shaking, the pins and needles in her hands and feet stopped and her whole body gradually came back to life.

  As soon as she reached to turn off the water, the shower door opened and Ross asked, ‘All right?’

  Without waiting for an answer, he produced a large bath sheet and wrapped it around her.

  Utterly drained of energy, with no strength or will-power left to fight, or even think, she stood like a tired child while he rubbed her hair, then dried her, his face aloof, his hands firm but gentle, his touch completely impersonal.

  When she was dry and warm and wrapped in a soft towelling bathrobe that was several sizes too big, he produced a bathroom stool for her to sit on while he brushed out her long hair.

  Then, leaving it curling damply onto her shoulders, he led her to one of the chairs in front of the living-room fire and settled her into it.

  The fire, which had been replenished with split logs, was blazing cheerfully, and like someone in a stupor, she sat gazing into the flames.

  As Ross turned away, Onions appeared from seemingly nowhere and jumped onto her knee. Apparently pleased to have found her again, he paddled for a moment or two with velvet paws, then reached to rub his furry face against hers before settling himself in her lap and purring contentedly.

  Ross returned and, having rolled up the sleeves of the bathrobe, put a brandy glass into her hand and said, ‘Sip that.’

  ‘I don’t like brandy,’ she protested weakly.

  ‘Whether you like it or not is immaterial. It’s for medicinal purposes, so do as I say and drink it.’

  Shuddering slightly as the brandy burnt the back of her throat, she muttered, ‘I hate bossy men.’

  He surprised her by laughing. ‘So you haven’t lost your spirit.’

  But if that had been the case she wouldn’t be sitting here taking orders from a man who believed she was a slut and a liar. She would have insisted on going straight back to the flat she shared with Carl.

  Thinking of Carl made her realize that if Janet had told him she’d set off to walk he might be concerned about her…

  As though reading her thoughts, Ross said, ‘While you were in the shower, to prevent anyone worrying, I talked to Beinn Mor and told them you’re safe.’

  ‘Thank you…’

  Aware that, when he’d quite possibly saved her life, a mere ‘thank you’ was inadequate, she added stiltedly, ‘It was good of you to leave the party and come after me. I’m really very grateful.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re offering to sleep with me to show your gratitude?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t!’

  ‘Pity. Not that I would have taken up your offer. Your physical charms seem less alluring since I’ve discovered what kind of woman you are.’

  Putting the glass on the table with a little thump, she lifted Onions down and got to her feet.

  ‘Rushing off?’ Ross asked mockingly.

  ‘If Carl’s back he’ll wonder where I’ve got to.’

  ‘I’m sure that if he realized just what you’re really like he’d look no farther than the nearest man’s bed.’

  At the end of her tether, and desperate to escape, she made her way unsteadily to the door, Onions at her heels.

  Ross got there first and, with a mocking flourish, opened it for her. ‘I’ll see you safely to the flat.’ She was about to argue when, seeing the determined look on his face, she thought better of it, and, her bare feet squeaking a little on the oak flooring, she allowed herself to be escorted.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, he took her arm in a firm grip.

  Finding his touch unbearable, she tried to shake it off, but he would have none of it. ‘Don’t be a fool
,’ he said crisply. ‘It would be awful for Carl if you fell down the stairs and broke that beautiful neck.’

  His tone indicated that, personally, he wouldn’t care one iota.

  When they reached the hall he let her go, and, breathing a sigh of relief, she made her way to the flat as quickly as possible.

  It wasn’t until they reached the door that she realized the key was in her bag, and she’d left that, and her wet clothes, in Ross’s bathroom.

  The events of the night catching up with her, she felt like bursting into tears.

  But, once again reading her thoughts with great accuracy, he said caustically, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the evidence, and, in the meantime, I have a master key.’

  He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  There was a little flurry of movement as Onions, who had accompanied them unnoticed, darted through the doorway with her.

  ‘Before you go to bed, it would be a good idea to get yourself something to eat,’ Ross suggested.

  Though she wasn’t in the least hungry, it seemed easier to agree. ‘I will.’

  ‘Then I’ll say goodnight. Sleep well.’ With that mocking injunction, he turned and walked away.

  She was thankful Carl hadn’t returned. It saved having to make excuses or give explanations.

  Going straight through to her room, she took off the robe and pulled on her nightdress, then, having cleaned her teeth, she climbed wearily into bed.

  Onions, who had been following her backwards and forwards like a dog, jumped on the bed and snuggled down beside her.

  His warm, furry body and his contented purr were strangely comforting as she recalled Ross’s anger and thought about what he had said.

  If you’d twisted an ankle, strayed off course, or lost consciousness exposed to temperatures this low without being properly equipped, you’d almost certainly have been dead before any search party could find you…

  Thinking back, and recalling her light-headed state and the desire she had felt to lie down in the snow and go to sleep, she knew she must have been close to losing consciousness.

  If he hadn’t come after her when he did, she might easily have lost her life… Almost before the thought was completed, she was fast asleep.

  When she awoke, the room was full of snowy light, and Onions was still curled up beside her, his eyes closed tightly. Only an occasional twitch of his white whiskers disturbed his perfect stillness.

  It felt early, and Cathy’s inclination was to turn over and go back to sleep. But a glance at the alarm clock by her bed told her that, in reality, it was almost a quarter to ten.

  For the second morning running she was going to be seriously late.

  The flat was silent, confirming that Carl had already gone, and the knowledge that she should be working, too, galvanized her into action.

  As she climbed gingerly out of bed so as not to disturb her visitor, she heard the sound of a door closing quietly.

  She must have been mistaken in thinking Carl had already gone. Though why was he still here this late?

  Pulling on her robe, she went to find out, but there was no one there after all.

  Realizing that the sound she had heard must have been Carl leaving, she hurried back to brush her teeth and shower.

  She was pleased to find that physically she was back to normal, and suffering no after-effects of her own stupidity.

  Of course, if it hadn’t been for Ross’s swift action it might well have been a different story. Indeed she had a great deal to thank him for, though his unkind taunts and his abrasive manner had made it difficult for her to express her gratitude.

  When she was dried and dressed in a fine wool skirt and a cream button-through top, her hair neatly coiled and wearing a touch of make-up to hide any lingering pallor, she went though to the kitchen to make a quick coffee.

  Carl’s breakfast dishes had been rinsed and turned upside down on the draining board, and a note in his big, sprawling handwriting had been propped against the kettle.

  It was very early when I left and you were still sleeping soundly, so I decided not to wake you. At first light Kevin and I are taking a small group off on a winter survival course, which means I’ll be away tonight. We’re expecting to be back tomorrow, probably late afternoon. Hope you’re suffering no ill effects from last night.Honestly, Sis, I thought you had more sense!

  With a wry grimace at the rider, Cathy put the kettle on and reached for the instant coffee.

  As she did so, a thought occurred to her: if Carl had left very early, she must have been mistaken when she’d thought she had heard a door close. Unless he’d returned for something he’d forgotten?

  But that wasn’t likely. And if he had, surely he would have stayed to have just a brief word?

  She was gulping down the last of the coffee when Onions appeared and came over to wind around her ankles in a morning greeting.

  She stooped to rub behind his ears and was rewarded with an appreciative chirrup.

  ‘What about a saucer of milk? Then I must run.’

  Ignoring the offer of milk with great disdain, he led the way to the door.

  She was all set to close it behind her, when it occurred to her that her keys were in her handbag and she would be unable to get back in again until Ross had returned it.

  Deciding not to take any chances, she left the door on the latch and headed for the study, with Onions leading the way, tail erect, like a military escort.

  When they reached the main hall, he abandoned her to head towards the kitchen and breakfast.

  Opening the study door, she found that the fire was burning brightly, but the room was empty.

  She had psyched herself up for the forthcoming meeting with Ross, and it was something of an anticlimax to find that he wasn’t there.

  A guilty glance at the clock told her it was high time she was at work, but first of all she must phone Beinn Mor and ask if her ring had been found.

  Along with her keys, her mobile was in her handbag, so she used the phone on the desk, finding the number programmed in.

  Margaret answered and, on hearing Cathy’s voice, exclaimed, ‘We were so relieved when Ross told us you were safe! Are you feeling all right this morning?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks to Janet and Ross.’

  Apparently not totally convinced, Margaret asked, ‘Will you be spending the day in bed?’

  ‘Certainly not. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. I’m ready to start work. But before I do, there’s something I want to ask…’

  When she had explained about losing her ring, Margaret was concerned and sympathetic.

  ‘No one has mentioned finding a ring… Any idea where you might have lost it?’

  ‘Not really. The only thing I’m sure of is that I was wearing it when Carl and I left the flat to come to the party.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. It must be very upsetting for you. But now I know it’s missing I’ll have a thorough search made.’

  ‘I’m sorry to cause you all this trouble.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all. I just pray someone comes across it quickly.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Try not to worry. The moment it comes to light I’ll let you know.’

  On that optimistic note, Cathy put the phone down with a sigh. All she could do now was live in hope.

  Sitting down behind the desk, she switched on the computer and, dismissing all thoughts of both Ross and the missing ring, prepared to do some work.

  She worked steadily throughout the day, stopping only to have a brief lunch of coffee and sandwiches that the young maid brought in, then slipping back to the flat to wash her hands.

  This time, her mind on other things, she pulled the door to without thinking, only realizing her mistake when it had clicked shut. Which meant that when she finished work, she would have to find Ross and ask for her bag back.

  Throughout the afternoon, apart from pausing to switch on the lights and throw a couple of logs on the
fire, Cathy worked non-stop, until a growing stiffness alerted her to the fact that she had sat for too long without moving.

  Glancing at the clock, she found it was going up the hill for seven.

  She had just finished backing up the day’s work when the door suddenly opened, making her jump.

  At the sight of Ross, casually elegant in well-cut trousers and a black polo-necked sweater, her heart gave a drunken lurch, then began to race madly.

  Though it made no sense, all through the day at the back of her mind had been a longing to see him. But now he was here, with a complete reversal of feeling, she wished she could have escaped back to the flat before he’d appeared.

  But of course she needed the keys.

  Striding over to the desk, he stood looking down at her, before asking with cool politeness, ‘How are you feeling today?’

  His nearness unsettled her, but trying her utmost not to let it show, she answered steadily, ‘I’m right as rain, thank you.’

  ‘No ill effects?’

  She shook her head. ‘None.’ Then, knowing she owed it to him, she said, ‘For which I have you to thank. I believe you saved my life.’

  ‘A dangerous statement.’

  When she looked at him blankly, he explained with a little crooked smile, ‘There’s an old oriental belief that if you save someone’s life, from then on they belong to you.’

  Guessing he’d only said that to knock her off balance, she retorted lightly, ‘Well, as I know you don’t want me, I won’t worry about it.’

  ‘Suppose I said you were mistaken, and I do want you?’

  His expression was inscrutable, but she realized that there was something different about him about the vibes she was picking up.

  Though it was almost imperceptible, she was sure that his manner had changed. There was a hidden excitement, a hint of triumph that had put a dangerous gleam in his eye.

  ‘I would know you were only saying that to…’ She faltered to a stop.

  ‘Throw you?’ he suggested.

  Ignoring that, she switched off the computer and rose to her feet.

  He didn’t move back to give her room, as she had expected, but remained standing so close that she fancied she could feel the heat of his body.

 

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