Red Rose For Love. Carole Mortimer

he added grimly.

      ‘I didn’t collapse!’ she roused herself enough to protest. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all.’

      ‘Like hell you are!’ he exploded, standing up forcefully. ‘Derek had no business letting you continue in this state.’

      Her eyes sparkled deeply blue as she fought back the fog that threatened to overtake her. ‘It wasn’t a case of “letting” me do anything, Mr Jordan. I’m twenty-five years of age, I control my own life, my own actions. And I can find my own way home!’

      ‘You can take your choice, Eve,’ he said hardly. ‘You either go by ambulance or in my car.’

      ‘I’m going by car——’

      ‘Then I’m taking you,’ he told her firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

      ‘I don’t want you to. I——’ Suddenly she started to cry, frowning surprise at her own weakness. What on earth was the matter with her? She never cried, never!

      But she was crying now, the mascara that was supposed to be waterproof running in black streaks down her white cheeks. And she couldn’t stop herself, crying and crying, until her body shuddered with exhaustion.

      Bartholomew Jordan grasped the tops of her arms and shook her gently. ‘Stop it, Eve,’ he ordered in a commanding voice. ‘Come on, pull yourself together.’