A KISS BY CANDLELIGHT
Joanna Mansell
‘I’m a personal secretary, not a nursemaid.’
That was Cathryn’s immediate reaction when her boss, Sir Charles Marchant, asked her to look after his injured brother for a couple of weeks.
She soon found herself regretting that she let herself be talked into it. Sir Charles’ warning that Nicholas was an impossible patient proved to be something of an understatement.
Perhaps he should also have warned her that despite his bad temper and cutting tongue, Nicholas was a very attractive man...
CHAPTER ONE
‘Dear heaven, are you totally incompetent?’
As the furious male voice echoed across the office, everyone except for Cathryn jumped nervously.
‘Are you talking to me?’ she asked calmly, as she turned round to face her boss.
‘Of course I’m talking to you, Miss Harrison!’ Sir Charles Marchant brandished a neatly typed letter at her. ‘This will have to be redone. The man’s name is Hetherington not Fetherington. I won’t stand much chance of getting this commission if you can’t even type his name correctly!’
‘Perhaps if you dictated a little more clearly I wouldn’t make that kind of mistake,’ replied Cathryn, her voice still perfectly composed. ‘Anyway, it’s very easy to put right. Only the one letter needs to be altered.’
The entire office staff held their breath. No one got away with talking to Sir Charles Marchant like that!
Sir Charles strode towards the door, and then paused there. ‘I want to see you in my office in five minutes,’ he stated in a very ominous tone of voice. ‘Five minutes,’ he repeated, his brows drawing together in a black scowl. Then he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Cathryn turned back to the junior typist. Before her boss had come storming in, she had been explaining to the girl how to set out the report that she was to type.
‘Is everything quite clear?’ she asked. ‘Sir Charles needs two copies by the end of the afternoon.’
The girl didn’t even seem to hear what she was saying. Instead, she gazed up at Cathryn with wide eyes.
‘Are you going to get the sack?’ she breathed.
‘Of course not,’ Cathryn said briskly. ‘I’m quite indispensable.’
‘But—Sir Charles seemed so angry.’
‘His temper gets the better of him sometimes, Cathryn agreed. ‘But it never lasts for very long. Now, stop worrying about me and make a start on this report. You don’t want Sir Charles to get angry at you, do you?’ she asked with a faint smile.
‘No!’ replied the girl, a little breathlessly, and her fingers began to fly over the keys.
As Cathryn made her way back to Sir Charles’s office, though, her smile disappeared and her heart began to beat just a little faster. Outwardly, she appeared as confident and composed as ever. Inside, she could definitely feel a nervous flutter.
She knocked lightly on the door, and took a deep breath as she heard Sir Charles tell her to come in. She walked inside and saw that, instead of sitting behind his large and impressive desk, he was staring out of the huge glass window that gave him a marvellous panoramic view of London.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said brusquely, without even turning round to look at her. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. And certainly not in front of the other staff.’
Cathryn relaxed a fraction. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said.
Sir Charles turned round and thumped his hand on the desk, making her jump slightly.
‘Yes, it does matter! If you like, I’ll apologise to you in front of everyone.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Cathryn said matter-of-factly. ‘You know perfectly well that isn’t necessary. You lost your temper, that was all.’
A rather rueful smile spread across her boss’s face. ‘And you never lose yours, do you, Cathryn?’ he commented. ‘Perhaps that’s why we work so well together. You manage to keep calm even when I’m exploding all over the place.’
Although he always referred to her as ‘Miss Harrison’ when other members of the staff were around, he used her Christian name when they were alone together. It didn’t mean anything, though. Sir Charles was in his late forties, an extremely attractive man and a widower, but he and Cathryn had a strictly working relationship.
She certainly admired her boss, particularly for his work as an architect. No plans for soulless office blocks or dreary high-tower flats ever left Sir Charles’s office. Instead, he designed very individual houses and business complexes, each with the distinctive character that stamped all of his work. In Cathryn’s opinion, he was head and shoulders above most of his contemporaries, and more and more people seemed to be realising that. The commissions had been rolling in lately, and clients had to be prepared for a long wait if they wanted their building to be designed by Sir Charles Marchant.
All this had meant a much increased workload for Cathryn, but she had coped with it quite easily. She didn’t mind working long hours, and even putting in an occasional weekend in order to keep up to date. It meant that she didn’t have much of a social life, but that didn’t bother her. Working for Sir Charles was always interesting. It also gave her the opportunity to travel, since he always took her with him when he had to go on trips abroad, and she had met some fascinating and often quite influential people.
The only small drawback was Sir Charles’s temper. It was fairly unpredictable, flashing out at the most unexpected of moments, and over the last three months it seemed to have intensified. Cathryn put it down to pressure of work, and didn’t allow it to upset or bother her. His outbursts were always over very quickly, and she actually preferred an open show of temper to moodiness or bottled-up emotions.
Sir Charles finally moved away from the window and sat behind his desk. His fingers tapped a restless rhythm against the beautifully polished top, and he seemed extremely edgy.
‘You know that I’m going to America next week, to see some clients?’ he said at last.
‘Of course,’ Cathryn said in surprise. ‘The trip’s been planned for over a month.’
‘I don’t want to take you with me,’ he said abruptly.
Cathryn sat very still. What was coming next? she wondered warily. She had thought that Sir Charles was more than satisfied with her work, but perhaps she had been reading the signs wrongly.
He saw the look on her face, and realised at once what she was thinking. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘I’m not about to fire you! Where the hell would I be without you? I don’t even know how I’m going to get through this American trip without you there to organise things for me.’
‘Then why aren’t you taking me with you?’
Sir Charles didn’t answer at once. Instead, he got up and began to prowl around the office again.
‘Because there’s something else that I want you to do for me,’ he said at last. He didn’t look at her, and Cathryn had the impression that he felt very ill at ease.
‘What kind of thing?’ she asked with a small frown, wondering what on earth this was all about.
‘A—personal favour,’ replied Sir Charles, with obvious reluctance.
Cathryn blinked and tried to hide her astonishment. In all the time she had worked for Sir Charles, he had never asked her to do anything that wasn’t connected with work.
‘What sort of favour?’ she questioned him, her curiosity growing by the minute.
Sir Charles took another turn around the room, and Cathryn wished he would sit down. All this pacing round and round was making her feel distinctly nervous!
‘Have you heard of Nicholas Ellis?’ he said finally, in a heavy tone.
Cathryn’s well-shaped brows drew together ligh
tly. ‘Is he a client?’
‘Damn it, no!’ Sir Charles exploded. Then he ran his fingers tensely through his dark hair. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I keep lashing out in all directions today. It’s just that—‘ He paused mid-sentence, made an obvious effort to calm himself, and sat behind the desk again. ‘Don’t you ever watch television?’ he said drily.
‘Not a great deal,’ admitted Cathryn. There never seems to be any time.’ Then she gave a small frown. ‘Wait a moment. That name does seem familiar. I’ve seen it—on the news,’ she said, digging deep into her memory. ‘He’s some kind of foreign correspondent, isn’t he? Sends in reports from trouble-spots all round the world?’
‘That’s him,’ Sir Charles confirmed a little grimly.
Cathryn’s frown deepened. ‘I seem to remember he got injured recently. And quite badly—’
‘He got blown up,’ Sir Charles said bluntly. ‘He’d been travelling round with a group of guerrilla fighters in northern Africa, and was just heading back to the capital to file his report when his Jeep hit a land-mine.’
Cathryn involuntarily shivered. ‘How awful! But what’s all this got to do with you?’
‘Nicholas Ellis is my younger brother.’
For a moment, Cathryn thought she had heard him wrongly. But Sir Charles had spoken very distinctly, which meant that he must have actually said that this man was his younger brother.
She could feel her mouth gaping open slightly, and she hurriedly shut it; then she gazed at Sir Charles.
‘I didn’t even know that you had a younger brother.’
‘There’s a fifteen-year age gap between us,’ Sir Charles said rather abruptly. ‘I’m forty-nine—Nicholas is thirty-four. And—we don’t get along—’
From Sir Charles’s tone of voice, Cathryn guessed that that was something of an understatement.
‘Why is his surname different from yours?’ she asked slowly, still trying to take all of this in.
‘ “Ellis” was our mother’s maiden name,’ Sir Charles said, after a slight pause. ‘Nicholas decided to use it very early on in his career. He was fiercely independent, even then. He didn’t want to be given job opportunities because there was a title attached to the name of “Marchant”.’
Cathryn knew that was something that could, and did, happen. In fact, it was one reason for Sir Charles’s growing success in the States. He was an outstanding architect, but there were many excellent American architects. In straight competition he might have lost out on several commissions if there hadn’t been a certain kudos attached to having your house or office complex designed by someone with a title.
All the same, there was a lot that Cathryn still didn’t understand. And Sir Charles had mentioned a favour. What kind of favour did he have in mind? she wondered with growing unease. And where did his brother come into all of this?
She was about to ask him outright, but at the last moment she stopped herself. Sir Charles was clearly finding this conversation difficult enough. Perhaps she had better let him get round to it in his own good time.
‘Is your brother recovering from his injuries?’ she asked sympathetically.
‘Nicholas was in hospital for over three months,’ Sir Charles replied shortly. ‘He was discharged only last week.’
‘Has he gone to a convalescent home? He must be in a fairly weak state, after being in hospital for all that time.’
Sir Charles’s dark brows settled themselves into a deep frown. ‘He’s staying at my London flat.’
‘But I thought you said that you didn’t get on together,’ said Cathryn in surprise.
‘We don’t. But he is my brother. I feel a certain sense of responsibility for him. And they would only allow him to be discharged from the hospital on the condition that there was someone to look after him.’ Sir Charles paused. ‘But on Monday I’m going to the States for two weeks. Which means that there won’t be anyone to look after Nicholas.’
Cathryn suddenly realised where this conversation was leading. She also decided that she didn’t like it one little bit.
‘There must be trained nurses you can hire,’ she suggested briskly. ‘They’re expensive, of course, but I dare say your brother can afford it.’
‘Nicholas can’t, but I can,’ replied Sir Charles. ‘In fact, I’ve employed three women during the last week—and none of them stayed longer than twenty-four hours.’
‘Your brother’s a difficult patient?’
‘Nicholas is an impossible patient.’
‘Perhaps you’ve just been unlucky in your choice of nurses. You should try and find someone who’s been trained to look after problem patients.’
Sir Charles’s mouth settled into a dry smile. ‘I don’t think there’s any training in the world that would equip someone to look after Nicholas!’
But Cathryn was determined to find a solution to Sir Charles’s problem. Because if she didn’t, she could see how this was going to end up.
‘Why not let him return to the hospital for the couple of weeks you’re away? I’m sure they wouldn’t refuse to take him.’
‘No, they wouldn’t,’ Sir Charles confirmed. ‘But Nicholas loathes hospitals. The last three months have been a nightmare for him. Our father spent the last six months of his life in hospital,’ he explained quietly. ‘It wasn’t an easy time for him, or for us. Nicholas was in his mid-teens when it happened, which is a very impressionable time. Ever since then, he’s associated hospitals with lingering death. He knows it isn’t a rational association to make, but he can’t help it.’ Sir Charles paused. Then he turned round and looked straight at Cathryn. ‘You know what I’m going to ask you, don’t you?’
Cathryn was very much afraid that she did.
‘You can refuse, of course,’ went on Sir Charles. ‘I’m asking this purely as a personal favour—and I’ve probably got no right to ask it at all. I don’t know where else to turn, though. I must go to the States on Monday. There are vital contracts to be signed, people I must see. But I can’t leave Nicholas on his own.’
‘So you want me to stay with him,’ said Cathryn with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
‘Yes. I don’t know what commitments you have outside the office,’ he added. ‘I know very little about your personal life. It might not be possible for you to take on something like this.’
Cathryn had no one waiting for her at her small flat, though.
‘No outside commitments,’ she said in a rather toneless voice. ‘But I really don’t know that I can do this. Surely your brother has family? Or friends? Someone who could move in with him for a few days?’
Sir Charles shrugged. ‘Our parents are both dead. As for Nicholas’s friends—they’re more likely to be acquaintances. My brother’s always been something of a loner.’
Cathryn could feel herself being edged into a corner, and she didn’t like it.
‘But why me?’ she said, a trifle desperately. ‘There must be someone else.’
‘No one I can really trust,’ said Sir Charles simply. ‘Apart from that, I think you’re the one person I know who could cope with my brother.’
‘What makes you so sure of that?’
‘Because you’ve always coped with my temper, and all the ups and downs in my life. And Nicholas is like me in a lot of ways, only more—extreme,’ he admitted, with some reluctance.
The more that Cathryn heard about the absent Nicholas, the less she liked the idea of spending two weeks looking after him.
‘What if I say that I don’t want to do this?’
Sir Charles looked resigned. ‘You’ve every right to do that, of course. And it’ll mean that I’ll simply have to cancel my trip to America.’
‘But you can’t do that! The trip’s too important.’
‘I don’t see that I’ll have any alternative.’
Cathryn looked hard at her boss. ‘This is beginning to sound rather like blackmail!’
Sir Charles’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Blackmail? Certainly not. I’m si
mply stating the alternatives.’
‘No wonder you’re so successful,’ Cathryn said, with a wry shake of her head. ‘You always know how to get your own way!’
His gaze sharpened. ‘Then you’ll consider my request?’
‘I’ll consider it,’ she conceded. ‘But that’s all,’ she warned. ‘At least, for now.’
‘Think about it overnight,’ offered Sir Charles. ‘Then you can give me your answer in the morning.’
‘Before I even start to think about it, I want to know a little more about your brother. Oh, nothing too personal,’ Cathryn assured him, seeing the rather wary look that crept over Sir Charles’s face. ‘I’m not interested in digging family skeletons out of the cupboard. I just want a few practical details.’
‘What sort of details?’ asked Sir Charles.
‘Well, for a start, perhaps you could tell me a bit more about his injuries. Have they left him an invalid? Does your brother need actual nursing?’
‘Nicholas is a long way from being fully recovered, but he doesn’t need nursing,’ said Sir Charles, much to Cathryn’s relief. ‘When the Jeep hit the land-mine, Nicholas was thrown clear—that probably saved his life. He fell awkwardly, though, and with some impact. He badly broke one leg, cracked several ribs, had some minor internal injuries, and smashed his head against a large rock, which left him with severe concussion.’
Cathryn winced and, for the first time, felt a twinge of sympathy for Sir Charles’s brother.
‘The ribs and internal injuries are more or less mended,’ went on Sir Charles, ‘and the concussion’s cleared up. His leg’s out of plaster, but it’s still giving him quite a lot of trouble. And there’s the problem of delayed shock.’
‘Delayed shock?’ echoed Cathryn warily.
Sir Charles gave a faint sigh. ‘Nicholas is still sleeping very badly, and has vivid nightmares. He’s taking medication, which should help, but it can also make him rather forgetful and lose all sense of time. Unless someone’s there to make sure he takes the right pill at the right time, there’s a chance he could accidentally overdose.’
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