The alarm clock buzzed. The shrill sound hammered Zara’s brain like savage waves pounding a defenceless coastline. She forced her eyes open a little and the agony struck.
It was as though barbed wire had been laid down her throat overnight. She couldn’t swallow. She knew what it was. Tonsillitis.
She hadn’t suffered an attack for years. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the consequences. Three days in bed minimum. A nasty clammy feeling spreading though her body. Disaster.
Holding herself still, she willed her diagnosis not to be true. It was just a sore throat, a simple cold. But she knew she was deluding herself. This was acute tonsillitis.
Her body felt heavy and hot. How would she attend to Xavier? How would she finish the preparations for the charity fair? She couldn’t lose three days. She was racing against an unforgiving clock as it was to prepare the property for the event. She couldn’t afford to bring in any help. She rolled slowly onto her side, the pain magnified with every movement, but if she didn’t get up, everything would fall apart.
Steeling herself, she tensed every muscle and hauled herself upright. Her head throbbed and her throat seemed to scream in protest. Gripping the wall for support, she lowered her eyelids against the pain. Okay, this was bad, but she’d have to tough it out. Some heavy-duty painkillers and a script for antibiotics. She could do it.
She dressed, moving as though she were in a film running in slow motion. Xavier would already have been for his run and be coming down for breakfast soon. She held the wall and guided herself to the kitchen with half-closed eyes. Reaching the sink, she filled the kettle.
‘Morning, Lady R.’ Xavier’s words knifed straight into her brain. She leaned on the kitchen table, worried his words could knock her to the ground.
‘What’s wrong?’
Xavier’s arms were about her shoulders. His warm comfort provided a mild anaesthetic to the torture.
She pointed to her throat.
‘Tonsillitis,’ he surmised immediately. He’d sat by her bedside on more than one occasion during her bouts as a child.
She nodded, the small movement an effort.
‘Right. Back to bed for you.’ He guided her toward the door. ‘I’ll call the doctor.’
Pathetically she attempted to wrestle free of his grip.
‘No,’ she croaked. ‘Too much to do.’ She raised her hand and pointed at her list and the calendar pinned to the corkboard on the wall.
‘Forget it, Zara. You’ll end up in hospital if you don’t go to bed. You know that.’
She did. It had happened before. The doctor had told her if the attacks continued to worsen, she’d have to have her tonsils out. After all the treatments for lymphoma when she was young, she had a morbid fear of hospitals. If surgery could be avoided, it would be. She’d survived this far without it.
Xavier took her to her room, helped her into bed and pulled the covers over her body. He sat next to her and stroked her arm. Tears sprang into her eyes.
‘The charity fair,’ she said in a whisper.
‘Don’t worry about it. Focus on getting better.’
She tried to protest, but stabbing pain in her throat defeated her. She’d known when she’d set herself the task of saving Ravensdale Manor, there’d be no margin for error. This was a big error.
Now her carefully orchestrated plans were ruined by a few strands of swollen glandular tissue.
She closed her eyes, her body limp with the crushing knowledge she’d failed.
Standing at the door of his old bedroom, Xavier’s hands fidgeted. The doctor packed away his instruments. He’d given Zara a shot of penicillin and a strong painkiller. She lay pale and still on the bed.
Xavier had never felt more useless. With all his fame and all his money, he was usually able to achieve what he wanted. But not this time. Zara’s health was not within his control, and he hated the fact. As much as he’d willed himself not to care about his childhood love, he couldn’t delude himself any more. Seeing Zara pale and feverish had torn down his pathetic, don’t-give-a-damn façade.
‘Three days minimum,’ the doctor confirmed. ‘You must make sure you have complete rest.’
‘Can’t I take it easy?’ Zara asked with a voice so weak, Xavier stepped closer to hear her. ‘I could just do the non-physical things?’
‘Sure,’ the doctor said, standing. ‘And I’ll be checking you into hospital for a tonsillectomy in a few days’ time. Your choice.’
She closed her eyes. The tiny effort of losing the fight left her body in a heart-wrenching sigh. It took all Xavier’s will not to fly across the room and scoop her into his arms, to try to imbue her with some of his strength.
‘Thanks, doctor,’ Xavier said, walking the man to the front door. ‘I’ll take care of her.’
The doctor rubbed his chin. ‘Aren’t you a guest here?’
‘Yes, but Zara and I are old friends.’ The term friends didn’t even come close to what they’d nearly been all those years ago, before fate tore them apart.
The doctor’s eyes widened. ‘Oh,’ he said, taking a step back. ‘You’re . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t recognise you. You’re Xavier Hunt.’
Xavier smiled. ‘Yes, but I’m here on the QT. I’m hiding out to finish my next book.’
‘Of course,’ the doctor said in a lowered voice. ‘I understand. Your secret is safe with me. Doctor–celebrity confidentiality.’ The doctor laughed at his own joke then coughed. ‘Sorry, it’s not every day I meet a superstar.’
Xavier smiled. He was used to people being flustered in his presence.
‘You’re up for a BAFTA award soon.’ The doctor made the statement as if somehow Xavier wasn’t aware of this important date in his diary.
‘Yes. That’s another reason why I’m in the UK. I go up to London on Saturday.’
‘If Zara does exactly what I’ve prescribed, she should be better by then.’
‘Thank you for looking after her so well,’ Xavier said, guiding the doctor to the entrance of the house.
‘No trouble. No trouble at all. Call me. Day or night if she gets worse.’
‘I appreciate that, doctor. Thank you.’
The doctor stepped outside. ‘You should see a rapid improvement in the next few days.’ He had recovered his professional demeanour. ‘But I was serious about hospital if she doesn’t rest.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll ensure she does as you’ve ordered.’
The doctor gave a brisk nod. ‘Thank you, Mr Hunt.’
Xavier waved the doctor goodbye and walked back to Zara.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘You’re not staying in this small, dark room.’ He scooped her off the bed before she could protest. Not that she could protest very loudly or forcefully in her current condition.
‘What are you doing?’ Her voice was a fraction stronger. The painkiller must have kicked in.
‘You are staying in my room. Upstairs. Where I can keep an eye on you.’ He was losing all perspective. He was crossing lines. He was overreacting, but he didn’t care. He was now responsible for Zara and would do anything to make her safe and well. Any decent man would do the same.
Her eyes widened. ‘No.’ She protested in his arms, but he held fast and walked through the house.
‘I’ll remind you that I’m a guest in this establishment. The first, in fact. I’m sure you’ll want me to give a five-star review online.’
‘You’re blackmailing me with a review?’
‘I’ll use whatever means necessary to ensure you do what the doctor’s ordered.’
He carried her up the stairs.
‘I have to get the place ready for the charity fair.’ She gazed up, a tortured expression blighting her beautiful face.
‘I’ll do it.’ Where had that come from? But as he said the words, he knew he meant it. He would make it all okay.
‘You don’t know what needs to be done,’ she said, the despair painfully apparent in her voice.
He laughed. ‘I’ve seen every aspect of the fair documented in the kitchen on that corkboard. I run a billion-dollar corporation, I think I can manage to put on a local charity event.’
He’d noticed from Zara’s notes that the event was being held for the local children’s hospital. He wouldn’t let the kids down. He had to admit, he couldn’t let Zara down either, not in the state she was in. And, any work he completed would ultimately be for the benefit of his father’s legacy when he purchased the house.
‘I’ll follow your orders’ he said.
Normally Zara would have thrown back a cheeky response, but instead she simply laid her cheek against his chest. A nasty ache plagued his heart. He wondered if he should let her know the futility of her actions. There was no way she’d be able to convince the bank she could make Ravensdale pay.
He held her more securely. But he wasn’t here to crush Zara’s dreams. It was the bank’s job to communicate with Zara on the financial aspects of the house. He would be there to pay a fair price when the property came up for sale. Better that than the bank sell it out from under her and leave her with a lifetime of debt. His plan wasn’t to leave Zara destitute, but to help him move on.
Then he’d put Ravensdale to good use. It was the perfect location for the horticulture school. The place of such pain in his life, converted to alleviating the pain of other young teenagers. Giving them the hope he’d been denied until he’d been shown the way.
He strode into the Ravensdale suite.
‘You’d follow my instructions?’ she asked.
‘Shh, don’t speak,’ he said, laying her on his bed. ‘Leave everything to me.’
Xavier cleared away Zara’s dinner tray. He was still serving her meals in bed, but tonight was the first time in three days she’d finished her food.
‘Well, your appetite seems to have returned with a vengeance,’ he said, placing the tray on the desk and returning to sit on the edge of the bed. A tinge of rose had returned to her cheeks. She sat up straight in bed and had a ‘ready to take on the world’ look about her. She’d be up and around in the morning for sure.
‘Perhaps it’s just your brilliant cooking,’ she said with a straight face, but a tiny smile peeped through the mock serious façade. The fact she was teasing him was also a positive sign her fighting spirit was back.
He nodded sagely. ‘Oh, I know that’s what it is.’
‘Aren’t you cocky tonight.’ She picked up a pillow and threw it at his chest. He caught it easily before impact.
‘Now, now,’ he said, wagging a finger at her. ‘That’s no way for a lady to behave.’
‘That’s because you always seem to affect my ability to live up to my noble birth.’
‘Yes, you would have been a right little stuck-up cow if I hadn’t arrived on the scene.’
This time he dodged the pillow that flew at his head.
Over the last three days all the barriers they’d built between each other had crumbled. It were as though they’d picked up their relationship nearly where they’d left off. Nearly, but not quite. Neither of them mentioned the kiss that had turned their friendship to passion.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Look what I’ve found.’ He lifted a backgammon set he’d stowed on the antique wooden blanket box at the end of the bed.
Her face lit up. ‘Where did you find it? I haven’t seen that in . . . forever.’
Zara had been given the backgammon set for her twelfth birthday. It was an ornate and highly decorative antique, made in the early eighteen hundreds. Xavier had always loved the feel of the heavy wooden board, so exquisitely made. He’d often laid a blanket on the grass in the secret garden, set up the board and spent many happy hours perfecting his game with Zara as a very worthy opponent.
‘In the priest hole,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘Of course.’ They’d kept a number of shared treasures under the stairs. ‘I haven’t looked under there for years.’
‘Ready for a thrashing?’ he asked, running his hand over the beautiful wood before opening up the board.
‘If I remember correctly the score was seventy-nine games to sixty-seven, in my favour,’ she said tapping her chest with her finger.
He made a show of frowning and scratching his temple. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’d bet my life on it.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘For the sake of your life, I’ll let those figures stand.’
‘I’m a little rusty,’ she said, placing her pieces on the board.
‘You haven’t played much lately?’
‘I haven’t played since the night you left.’ She focused on the task of setting up the board. ‘This was our game.’ She shrugged. ‘It didn’t feel right to play with anyone else.’
A little quiver of happiness thrilled through his body. This had been their special game, and even after all this time and all that had happened, it was still something special, between just the two of them. Unspoilt. Undamaged. Unaffected by their tormented history.
‘Well,’ he said, fighting the urge to kiss her and communicate with his lips how much this meant to him, ‘prepare for a tough fight, because I was the backgammon champion of juvenile hall.’ He put the dice in the cup, held it up high and shook it. ‘It was one of the few games that had nearly all its pieces.’
If the mention of his incarceration bothered her, she didn’t show it.
‘Don’t think you’re going to intimidate me,’ she said, tucking her legs underneath her. She looked sexier than ever in silk pyjamas, the fabric clinging to her body in all the right places. ‘I mightn’t have played for years, but I’ll still have the edge over you.’ She rubbed her hands together.
‘Care to put a little wager on that, Lady Ravensdale?’
She tilted her head down and looked up at him with her bewitching eyes. ‘What did you have in mind?’
Strip backgammon was what sprung to mind. Zara peeling off her clothes, item by item.
‘You wouldn’t be game,’ he taunted.
‘I’m not scared, you know. Not of you.’
He had failed to mention he’d played the game once a week in a park in LA. He’d dress in a beanie and dark glasses and play for hours with the old guys who spent each day perfecting their game. If they’d guessed who he was, they showed no interest. Their only interest was that he could hold his own in the game and often take them down. Zara didn’t need to know that small, insignificant factoid.
‘You sure you’re up for it? You’ve been ill. I wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself.’ He laced his voice with feigned concern.
‘What you never understood about this game is how much skill is involved,’ she said, placing her last piece on the board. ‘You always took too many risks.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Absolutely,’ she said with a toss of her head.
‘So you’re convinced you’ll win more games than me tonight.’
‘Without a doubt.’
‘So you’ll take the wager?’
‘Bring it on.’
‘Okay. So, every time someone loses they have to discard an item of clothing.’ He threw the dice on the board to see who went first. He rolled a ten. Double fives.
Her eyes sprang wide. ‘You cheeky bugger. I’m not doing that.’
‘So you forfeit,’ he said, rubbing his hands together.
‘We haven’t even started.’
He grinned at the indignation high in her voice. ‘Yes, we have. I’ve rolled to see who goes first. You have to beat a ten.’
She stared at him blinking. They’d developed very strict rules for their games. Once the first dice rolled it was game on. If she didn’t accept the bet and play, he’d win the first round.
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. ‘You tricked me.’
‘If you’re too scared to play, I understand,’ he said collecting the dice and beginning to take his pieces off the board.
Zara grabbed the dice from his hand, dropped them into the cup, shook it in front of his face and rolled. Seven.
He smiled. Wearing only her pyjamas, he’d already calculated she was at a distinct disadvantage. One he hoped to quickly exploit.
They played fast and furious. Roll. Move. Roll. Move. Roll. Move. Xavier scooped up the dice and threw them onto the wooden board. Double sixes. He could almost taste triumph.
He moved, but was forced to leave two pieces exposed.
‘Ready to taste the bitterness of loss,’ he asked, hoping his arrogance would distract her from his vulnerable pieces.
She rolled. Bam. Bam. His two pieces gone straight to the bar.
‘No,’ she said, handing him the dice. ‘I prefer the sweet taste of success.’
A few moves later, she took the last of her pieces from the board and sat back. A smile of pure exultation adorned her beautiful lips.
‘Strip,’ she ordered, folding her arms across her chest.
The directive sent arrows of desire straight to his groin. He stood, keeping his gaze squarely on hers. He unbuttoned his shirt and slowly removed it from his body. Her eyes tracked over his chest. His pulse rate ticked up a notch. Their eyes met. It felt as though a fire flared in the grate, but he hadn’t lit one.
She dropped her gaze to the board and collected up her pieces.
‘Ah . . . Good game,’ she said, resetting the board. The slight tremble in her hand told him she was affected too.
He gathered the dice.
‘Winner starts,’ he said, holding out the cup.
Her fingers lingered over his as she retrieved it. She drew in a little half breath but pulled away quickly and threw the dice on the board.
Double sixes. Damn. He slumped back. At this rate, she’d win again.
But she didn’t. The game turned quickly in his favour and he thrashed her.
He sat back and smiled.
‘Your turn to get a little naked,’ he said. Simply saying the words caused his pulse to quicken.
She slid her hand up her body and touched the button of her pyjama top. He held his breath.
‘Ready?’ she asked, her voice taking on a sultry, teasing quality. He swallowed, unable to answer.
Then she pulled her foot from under the blanket, yanked off a sock and threw it at his chest.
‘Come on,’ he said, catching the sock one handed and tossing it to the floor. ‘That’s cheating. Socks don’t count.’
‘I can’t take off my shirt. I haven’t got anything on underneath.’
‘That’s what I’m hoping for,’ he said.
The blush rushed into her cheeks. ‘Xavier!’ She coughed. And coughed again. Then her whole body convulsed in a hacking cough.
He leapt off the bed and poured her a glass of water. He slid his arm around her back and held her until she could draw in a breath.
‘Here. Drink this,’ he said.
She took the glass with shaking hands. He cupped his hand around hers and held the glass steady. She sipped, but weakly.
You idiot. What was he doing? Trying to get Zara naked after she’d been sick for three days.
‘Better?’ he asked, trying to keep the self-loathing from his voice. He took the glass and placed it on her bedside table.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, slumping back on her pillows. She didn’t look fine. She looked exhausted and pale.
‘Time for bed,’ he announced.
She sat up straighter. ‘What? It’s currently a draw. I haven’t won yet.’
‘That’s enough for tonight,’ he said.
Was that hurt in her eyes?
‘You need to sleep,’ he said, packing up the board. If he didn’t get out of this room and quell his pent-up desire, he’d go mad. ‘See you in the morning,’ he said, quickly placing the board on the desk and walking to the door.
‘You’re not sleeping here?’
He turned quickly to see if it was the invitation he longed for, but she pointed across the room. For the past two nights, he’d slept on the antique chaise longue. He’d wanted to be close to her in case she needed anything. What she didn’t need was a horny man trying to game her into bed.
‘Not tonight. You’re much better. See you in the morning.’
He tried to avoid her gaze, but she blinked up at him with her gorgeous green eyes. Fire roared within him. She looked so goddamn sexy. So hot. So vulnerable.
He twisted away, before lust robbed him of his senses. Before he did something stupid. Something irreversibly stupid. Like climbing into bed with her. Climbing into bed with her and having her reject him.
‘Good night,’ he said, without a backward glance.
Walking out the door, Xavier pulled it firmly shut behind him. He rubbed his hands roughly down his face.
Being rejected again by Zara was something from which he would never recover.