“Will you think over my offer?” About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright
“Will you think over my offer?”
Sabrina hesitated. Everything inside her screamed yes, but rational thought threw in a note of caution and reality. “I... Oh, Marc.”
He stared down at her. “Just forget the other man in your life.” There was a grim note to his voice now.
“If only it were that simple,” she said sadly.
KATHRYN ROSS
was born in Zambia, Africa, where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist, but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories, and at thirteen was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later, Designed With Love was accepted by Harlequin. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves traveling to exotic locations.
Whisper Of Scandal
Kathryn Ross
CHAPTER ONE
‘WE SHOULDN’T really be doing this,’ Sabrina told Garth nervously.
‘Why ever not?’ He leaned across and poured her some more wine. ‘I think that bringing you out for dinner was a lovely idea.’
‘Yes, but, Garth, we have got to be sensible.’ Her eyes flickered over the intimate booths lit by candlelight, searching for any face that she might recognise. This was one of London’s most expensive restaurants and it was a well-known haunt of many famous people... including MPs like Garth Fraiser. It was not the type of place to have a secret meeting. ‘I’m sure you don’t usually bring your ex-secretaries to places like this.’
‘Well, you are not the usual kind of secretary,’ Garth answered with a smile.
Bright blue eyes swung back on to his attractive face. Despite his advancing years Garth Fraiser was still a good-looking man. His strawberry-blond hair was thick and vital, the deep lines on his face emphasising his strong, stubborn character.
‘Exactly.’ She said the word quietly but with meaning. ‘And we don’t want to start people talking.’
‘I’m sorry, Sabrina... I don’t want to place you in an awkward position.’ He sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘You’ve been through so much recently... what with the death of your mother and... everything. It’s just that we need to talk; I have so much to explain to you.’
For a moment her blue eyes clouded with sadness. ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘But it’s you I’m worried about. What would your wife say if she knew that you were out having dinner with me?’
He smiled. ‘She would think it was business. Anyway, Nadine is in Paris visiting Marc. She won’t be back until tomorrow.’
‘Are you going to tell her?’ Sabrina’s beautiful face was etched with strain as she waited for his answer.
‘I don’t think I could face it.’ Garth shrugged helplessly. ‘I do care about you, Sabrina. I know you must find that hard to believe. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. The main one being that I should have told Nadine years ago.’ He raked a hand through his hair in agitation. ‘Look, come back to work for me, Brina, and we’ll work things out. I miss you.’
‘Thank you, Garth.’ She swallowed down a sudden lump of emotion in her throat. ‘I miss you too.’ She did miss him; she also missed the cut and thrust of political life at the Palace of Westminster. ‘But having me as your secretary could cause you problems.’ She forced herself to be practical. ‘Politics is your life and, as you have said yourself, people expect you to be whiter than white. If word got out about me it could bring you down...it could certainly go against your moving to Brussels next year.’
He sighed. ‘I certainly don’t want to risk ruining my . political career. This job as Euro MP next year means a hell of a lot to me.’
She nodded. ‘You’ve worked very hard for the posting.’
‘I suppose I have...’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘So has Nadine. She has always been wonderfully supportive.’
Sabrina nodded her head. She had met Garth’s wife on a few occasions. Nadine was French, extremely beautiful and very intelligent. People liked and respected her and she was certainly an asset to Garth’s career. ‘But she is not stupid, Garth. It’s only a matter of time before she notices something is amiss. I don’t want to pressurise you, but I think you should either tell her or cut me out of your life altogether.’
Although she said the words firmly, there was a tremor inside her body. She hated the thought of losing Garth out of her life... especially now, in the light of what she had found out. She wanted to get to know him better, to talk things through... to deepen their relationship.
‘Surely you don’t mean that?’ He frowned and for a moment his face turned pale as he reached across the table to catch her hand.
Her eyes clouded and she shook her head. ‘No... no, of course I don’t. I was just trying to be sensible.’
‘I can’t tell Nadine, Brina. I——’
A dark shadow fell over the table, startling them out of their engrossing conversation.
‘And just what is it that you can’t tell Nadine?’ a deep voice enquired in crisp tones.
Sabrina had to tip her head back to look up at the man who was staring down at them. Her hand left Garth’s with guilty haste as her eyes locked with a burning dark gaze.
‘Marc, this is a surprise!’ Garth rose quickly to his feet, for once looking completely disconcerted. ‘Is Nadine with you?’
‘No. Mother is still in France.’
‘I see.’ Garth smiled and seemed to regain his composure on hearing that his wife was not about to appear beside them. ‘I’m dining with my secretary, Miss Sabrina Harrington.’ He waved a hand towards her and the man turned his gaze down on her again. ‘This is my stepson Marc Kingsley.’
Sabrina’s one overriding thought as she looked up at him was that Marc Kingsley was far, far too good-looking.
Dark hair and eyes and a tanned skin made him look more French than English, but his weren’t the conventional good looks. There was something hard and forceful about that face that stared down at her. For a moment she thought she saw a flicker of surprise in the intense black eyes as they lingered on her long strawberry-blonde hair and heart-shaped face. The way he looked at her was so openly arrogant that it made her flush uncomfortably.
‘Miss Harrington.’ He acknowledged her