“I’ll call as soon as I have my physician’s report.”
Phillip turned back toward the parlor door. It was quiet now inside. He hoped that was good news.
Alex was barely aware of the doctor leaving the room. The brandy had numbed her, and the pain in her shoulder had retreated to a dull ache as soon as the doctor finished messing with the sling. She nestled into the soft cushions of Phillip’s settee and drifted off to sleep.
She floated.
For the first time in weeks Alex felt detached from the terrible disappointment that had chased her halfway around the world to her brother’s new home, Altaria. She hadn’t planned to attend the ball in his honor, but it had provided a welcome escape from her troubles.
She remembered Robert’s words as he spoke to her friend Jessy and the cruel sound of his laughter, slurred by too much alcohol. “Love Alex? You’ve got to be kidding. But marrying her is well worth the sacrifice of my freedom in exchange for all I’ll gain from Connelly Corporation.”
She remembered every word as clearly as if he stood before her now, speaking them anew. Oh how she wished she’d listened to Justin’s words of warning. He knew that Robert was a womanizer, that Robert was just using her. Why hadn’t she seen the man for what he was? Tears filled her eyes as she slept.
A hand brushed the dampness from cheek. She blinked her eyes open.
Phillip bent over her, his honey-colored eyes concerned. “Is the pain bad?”
“No,” she whispered.
“It hurts enough to cry.”
She shook her head. “That’s something else. I’m being silly. Never mind.”
He frowned, obviously confused, but she wasn’t about to explain her aborted wedding to him.
“I’ve arranged for you to stay here,” he said.
“What?” She looked up at him, astonished. “Why would I want to do that?”
“You were injured on my property, so I’m responsible for your recovery. I intend to see to your care.”
“I see. And that will soothe your conscience?”
“Conscience aside, it’s only right.”
“I don’t know…” She tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but a sudden tightness in her shoulder promised pain she didn’t want to feel and she settled back down against the pillows. “The doctor said I’ll be fine walking around as long as I don’t move this.” She glanced sideways at her shoulder, resting in the white cotton sling. “He expects I’ll be pretty much back to normal in a couple of weeks.”
“I suppose you’d be more comfortable back in Chicago, in your own home.”
Back at Lake Shore Manor, she thought dismally, her parents’ home. Not in the house she had planned to share with Robert, before her dreams had shattered.
“I suppose,” she murmured.
“Oh, I almost forgot. The palace aide left a note for you.” He held out a folded piece of paper.
It was a telephone message taken by one of the palace secretaries in a pointy European-style script. It was from Robert. As she read it, ice crystals formed in her heart.
“Not bad news, I hope?” he asked.
Very bad news. Robert wanted her to come home. Robert wanted to explain his flirtation with Kimberly Lindgren and his disturbing comments to Jessy, to make things right, to try again and set a new date for the wedding.
Fat chance, buddy, she thought, tears nearly coming to her eyes again. She hadn’t known him as well as she’d thought she did. Just well enough to realize that the words he’d spoken to her maid of honor the night before their wedding were from the heart and true to his character.
Robert didn’t love her. Perhaps she’d sensed that from the start but refused to admit it to herself. She had so desperately wanted love, marriage, a family of her own, and there he was offering her these things in his oh-so-charming way. But he loved only what she could bring him—wealth, her father’s power and influence, a future of success that depended little on his own effort or ingenuity.
And if she didn’t return to Chicago, what then? He would come after her. She was certain of that much because he was a determined man. Without her, without their marriage, he had nothing but a midmanagement position with her father’s company. That is, if Grant didn’t fire him outright once she explained to her parents her sudden disappearance from Chicago. She hadn’t yet found the strength to talk about her reasons for walking out on Robert on the eve of their wedding. Nor had she found the nerve to face Robert again. But she could at least make it difficult for him to find her until she was ready to face him.
“I’ll stay,” she said quickly.
“Really?” Phillip looked surprised after her earlier refusal.
“Yes,” she said and slid him a playful smile. “If only to milk your guilt.”
He grimaced. “It wasn’t my intention that you fall!”
“I know that,” she said, settling back against a fluffy pillow. “Still, if you should feel a teensy bit responsible you could bring me a cup of that wonderful smelling bouillabaisse you promised.”
He grinned. “It’s as good as done.”
Phillip didn’t know how long he could keep Alex in resting mode. She was like a little kid, constantly trying to find excuses to leave the couch when she was supposed to be quiet and not stress her shoulder. Although he could easily have asked his housekeeper or any one of the others on his staff to fetch things for her, he felt obligated to wait on her, personally. His employees found this highly entertaining, but he didn’t care. He’d make sure she gave her shoulder a chance to heal if it killed him.
By the time he returned to the parlor on the third day of her stay, carrying a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and a plump raisin scone, she was sitting on the edge of the settee.
“The doctor said you should rest. Lie down and I’ll pour for you,” he offered.
“I’m uncomfortable,” she complained, pouting at him. “Too much of this lying around must be bad for the circulation. I want to go outside.” She peered out the window. “It looks beautiful out there.”
“Rest,” he said.
“I could rest just as well on the chaise lounge on the terrace, I’ll bet my shoulder would warm up in the sunshine and heal faster.” She started to stand up.
He set the tray down with a sigh. “Very well, the terrace it is.”
She laughed at him as he scooped her up in his arms and strode out the open French doors into the Mediterranean sunshine. He deposited her on a cushioned chaise and looked down at her. “Better?”
“Much,” she said. “Thank you.”
He smiled, pleased he’d been able to once more delay her restlessness.
“Wait here. I’ll go get the tea.”
When he returned, she had rearranged her thin white cotton robe worn over a sea-green bikini to bare her long legs. He drew a sharp breath at the tug in his loins. She was stunning—the contrast between her pale ivory skin and her cropped, black hair. Her emerald eyes flashed up at him. He gulped. Unable to say what was really on his mind, he blurted out, “Sunscreen. I forgot the sunscreen.”
She shook her head at him. “Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.”
She was a darn sight more than just fine, Phillip thought when he returned, drew up a chair beside hers, and watched her smooth lotion from her toes, over her ankles, then up her calves, thighs and hips. Lust curled