Priceless (10 page)

Poor Mr. Finnegan.
 
No, thank God for Mr. Finnegan.

Had
Mr. Everley inquired about me after I’d gone?  He’d probably felt relieved to know his private sanctuary was back to being private again.  The man really thought I was a prostitute.  Total insanity. 
Well, not really, considering what you allowed him to do to you on the night of the gala. 
I shivered in shame, pretty sure I made an audible groan, because the guy seated next to me was all eyes and instant attention.  I ignored him and turned away toward the window.

Professor Langley
sure hadn’t expected the “Mr. Everley thinks I’m working for an escort service” announcement to come out of my mouth.  But then, neither had I.  Regardless, it got me off the hook of having to stay there and do the job.  The whole nightmare was over, and I was free now, but still…I shuddered in mortification at the thought of what Mr. Everley had said about wanting to fuck me…and for how I’d slapped him.  I had never behaved like I had with him with other men, both on the night of the gala, and last night at his estate.  He affected me strangely for sure, and I said and did things that shocked even me.

It was just so
damned awful, the whole thing.  And I was certain I was coming down with something evil.

I
rested my feverish head against the cool window and continued to ignore my early-balding, over-cologned seat-mate who kept trying desperately to get my attention, and didn’t seem to take the hint I wasn’t interested in being on the receiving end of his, can-I-buy-you-a-drink?, come on.  Ugh.

I closed my eyes and slept.

MY dad wasn’t there to pick me up.  He sent Desmond to do it.

Just seeing a friendly face nearly
propelled me back into tearful territory.

“Jesus Christ
, you’re hot, Gaby,” he said after a kiss to my cheek.

I frowned at him and felt my eyes get watery.

“I—I mean you feel hot.”  Des looked me over good, his warm brown eyes darting.  “Are you all right?  You don’t look your usual self,” he said more gently.

Was that a nice way to tell me I looke
d like shit?  I sure felt like a giant pile of it, and I must’ve looked the same.  I forced a smile, gulped back my tears, and thought maybe I should give Desmond Thorne a chance.

The man was
always nice to me, and despite his serious persona, he was dependable. No crazy irrationality coming out of him. He was also gorgeous, with a lean body trimmed in muscles I knew would be spectacular if I ever saw it sans the designer suit.  Des was always wearing a suit, so I’d never had the privilege.  Didn’t mean the spectacular body wasn’t rippling under the silk threads.  Also didn’t mean I couldn’t have the privilege if I wanted.  I could.  In a heartbeat.  All I had to do was let him know I wanted to.

But did I?  This was the burning question.

Along with my burning body temp.

“I know.  I think
I have a fever.”  I held a hand up.  “You probably shouldn’t get too close, Des.  I’d hate to give you whatever it is that’s infected me.”

“Don’t you worry about me
, Gaby.  I am never ill.”  He reached for my baggage trolley and took over pushing it for me.  “Your flat then, I’m guessing?”

I nodded gratefully.  “Yeah.  I just want to get i
nto my bed and sleep for a long time.”

“Of c
ourse.”

We talked in the car on the way into the city.  I told him how I’d gotten lost in the storm and had to wait in the dark for three hours until Mr. Everley finally decided to answer his messages.  I explained how he was angry when I’d arrived and tho
ught I was somebody named Maria, and felt his privacy had been compromised.  I left out the part about how we’d hooked up at the National Gallery.  Just the remembrance right now gave me a shiver.  I shared that Mr. Everley might be a jerk, but his servant, Mr. Finnegan, was most certainly not.  How he had been kind and showed me to my room, and then helped me this morning to make it back to my rental car.

“It sounds like this Everley
’s a crazy bastard, and I’m glad you’re not taking his job.  And your dad will be glad, too.”

“I know he will.  Dad doesn’t trust
most people.”

Des cracked a tiny smile and raised an eyebrow at me.

“I know he trusts you,” I said absently as I switched my phone off airplane mode, and waited for it to update.

The
re were three alerts.  Texts.  All from
him
.

I read them and couldn’t believe my eyes.

“Oh—my—God.  The lunatic is asking me to come back there and accept the job.”

“What is
he saying?” Des asked.

I read the texts out lo
ud to him.

“Why is he
fucking you about like this?  He’s angry you’ve come to his estate and wants you gone, and then when you’ve left the job, he begs you to stay?  You’re right, he is a lunatic plonker.”

I said nothing. 
I couldn’t tell anyone I’d had a sexual encounter with the man.  Instead I decided right then and there to put the nightmare experience of Mr. Everley behind me for good.  I’d made a terrible lapse in judgment the night of the gala in a moment of weakness, and I had paid for my sin.  I needed to put the whole hideous mess behind me and move on.

By the time we got to my flat
, I could hardly stand on my feet without wavering.  Desmond helped me up all five flights of stairs, his strong arms practically carrying me.

I did manage to dredge up enough energy to
change into some yoga pants and a T-shirt, and to crawl into my bed while he went back down to get my bags.

Des
was such a good person, I thought, as I settled under the covers and let my eyes close.  I should maybe thank him by inviting him over to Dad’s place for a home cooked dinner.  Yeah, I might just do that once I was feeling better...

ENOUGH
of this silent-treatment bullshit.  I phoned her.

E
xcept it wasn’t her.  Some chap answered.

“I’d like to speak to Gabrielle Hargreave
,” I said.

“And who’s asking?” 
So, I’d gotten the correct number for her at least, but the voice on the other end of the line was hostile, so I figured there was nothing to lose.

“My name is Everley and I want to speak with her about a job she was hired to do at my home.”

“Well, she doesn’t want your blasted job, and she’s not coming back there ever, you arse.”

“Who is this
speaking?”

“Someone who cares about her.
  Someone who cares that she’s ill with a fever right now, and worn out from the crazy shit you bloody well know you put her through.  Who abandons a woman out in a storm for hours and then tells her she needs to leave as soon as she arrives?  Who does that and then bothers her with messages to come back there?”

“I’ve made a mistake and I need to s
peak with her.  Can you tell her to ring me?”

“I doubt it, but what I
can
tell you is that you’re going to fuck off now.”

Then the line went dead.

I’d bet money he wasn’t her man because he’d have said so if he was.  She’d never corrected me when I’d addressed her as “Miss” either.  Whoever that was who’d answered her mobile was somebody close, yes, but he wasn’t her husband and he wasn’t her boyfriend.

He said she was ill, and that
part didn’t sit well with me.

I felt badly about her being frightened and feeling unwell as she tried to find the house
in the storm.  I felt even worse about how I’d blown up at her when I saw her in the light and got a good look.  What were the odds of that happening?  She was such a goddamn mystery, no doubt about it.  Was she an escort sent to dig up more sordid dirt on me, or had that part been all a misunderstanding as well?  She claimed over and over she wasn’t working for any escort service.  Langley was appalled at the suggestion.  Finnegan had labeled me a tyrant, as had her unnamed telephone champion.  Was I way off the mark with Gabrielle Hargreave?

I couldn’
t stop thinking about the way she’d been in that closet with me at the National Gallery, though.  It played and replayed over and over in my head.  My body remembered all too well how she felt deliciously melted in my arms, submissive and content after I’d made her come.  How she’d wanted everything we did together in those too-short minutes.  That encounter had been all about the sex.  Crazy, raging, filthy sex.  I wanted to have her like that again.  I wanted to believe she was just a grad student sent to do some important work, who just happened to have some incredible chemistry with me.  I could still remember how she tasted, sweet and exotic, and how she let me have my way.

Tantalizing infuriating woman.

I went outside for my daily therapy in hopes of figuring it all out.

As I shot arrow after arrow into the target
s, I thought about what had happened with her, and wondered if I would ever see her again.  Or if I did manage to find her, would she ever allow me to apologize and make it up to her?  It bothered me very much she was ill and had to travel on her own while feeling that way.  I was sorry for upsetting her to the point of tears and driving her away.  I needed to see her again so I could attempt to figure out where things had turned so horribly wrong.  How had I read her so inaccurately?

I’d
get my chance eventually.  Despite my lot in life, I was genuinely optimistic about most things.  And confident.  It was just part of how I’d been made, and I knew how to fight for the win.  I’d done it plenty of times, and under extreme pressures most people would never understand.

I did have her number. 
Gabrielle Hargreave would have to answer her own mobile phone sooner or later. And I would be on the other end of the line when she did.

London

15
th
August

“ARE
you one hundred percent recovered, my lovely?”

“Getting there
.  You’ll be pleased to know I am not carrying any pathogens capable of sending you to bed for a week straight.  I’m still on antibiotics for another ten days.”

“
Depends on who’s in the bed with me, love.”  Ben loved to tease with innuendo.

I laughed at him.  “Well, trust me, you wouldn’t be thinking about sex for the next century if you felt l
ike I did this past week.  Strep throat is killer on the libido, Benny.”

“The main cause of strep throat is stress, you know.  If you had more sex, you wouldn’t be so stressed.”

“Oh please.  You are not feeding me that old line to go have random sex with some strange penis to avoid getting sick.”

He cocked a brow at me
and smirked.  “Do I ever seem stressed to you?”

I sighed and shook my head.  “No.  You never are.”

Ben bowed gallantly next to a rack of vintage gowns.  “I rest my case, darling.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered as I flicked through some possibilities for
a dress as maid-of-honor at Brynne and Ethan’s wedding.  “You’re a guy and have no morals.”

He ignored my insult.  Probably because
he knew it was legitimate fact.

“What about the copper? 
Declan?  He’d step up and help you work off some stress I’m sure.”  Ben pulled out a strapless vintage Carolina Herrera in burgundy lace and set it aside for me to try on.  “And he’s hot.”

“Desmond.  I know he would,
but it doesn’t feel right to me for some reason.”  And it didn’t.  Something was holding me back because if I’d ever been given signals from Des, they had come in the past week.  I might have been out of it, but I wasn’t dead.

After I’d arisen from my initial coma
, I’d found some soup in the fridge with instructions to heat it up and eat it.  He also made sure my dad was filled in on my health status.  I had ended up with strep throat and a visit to a walk-in urgent centre at Lord Guildford Hospital to get some serious drugs to kill the raging infection.  The pain had been severe, and I’d done nothing but sleep and drink soothing broths and teas for days.  Dad had insisted I stay at his house to recuperate because he didn’t want me all alone at my flat, now that Brynne had moved out.  I seriously wondered what would have happened to me if Des hadn’t picked me up from the airport and clued in on how sick I really was.  Nobody would have known.

“What doesn’t feel right
about having some mutually agreed upon pleasure?  Don’t overthink things with him.  Just give it up and enjoy yourself.  I swear you’ll feel better, and I can hear all the deets on how he does.”  He held up a pink frothy mess trimmed in ostrich feathers and studied it.

“
You’re horrible, and so is that feather dress.”  I shook my head slowly at both of them.  “No, I can’t do that to Desmond.  I’d be using him and he deserves much better.”  I plucked chiffon in pale lavender-grey off the rack that looked promising.

“What am I going to do with you, lady?  You
need a man to satisfy your needs.”

“No
, I really don’t.”

“Yes, you very much do,” he said stubbornly, ga
thering up the gowns we’d chosen and gesturing toward the dressing room with a jerk of his head.  “Now get in there and start trying frocks.”

I
shut the door on him and shimmied out of my clothes.  Time was running out to get the dress thing sorted out.  My illness had put me way behind schedule.  Brynne was so non-stress about it though.  She’d given us free reign on the bridesmaid dresses and said she didn’t care if they were even remotely the same.  I was trying to keep it in the purple/lavender realm and so were the others.  Brynne asked me to be her maid-of-honor and Elaina and Hannah to be bridesmaids.  Hannah was Ethan’s older sister, and it was at her country mansion where their wedding would take place.  A garden wedding meant a more casual dress was okay, but at the same time, it was going to be a very posh event with lots of celebrities attending.  I wanted my gown to be right.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone
at the wedding who can take care of your little problem,” Ben chatted at me through the dressing room door.

“I doubt it, and I don’t have a problem
, Benny.”  I glared up at him from behind the dressing room door.  “Humans can live productive lives without frequent sex, you know.”

He vetoed the lilac crushed velvet with a
sharp shake of his head as soon as I stepped out.  “Maybe they can be productive, but not very happy.  I want you to be happy,” he said seriously.

I mouthed
“thank you” and an air kiss and went back into the dressing room.  I tried the Carolina Herrera next.  “This isn’t gonna work.”  I stepped out to show him.  “I’m not doing this weird lace.  It looks like it’s been made from a chenille bedspread.”

“Agree,” Ben said.  “Who will be your partner
at the wedding?”

“Umm, I know Ethan asked his cousin to be best man.  Brynne told me his name
before but I don’t remember.  He does some kind of sport. I think it might be fencing or lacrosse maybe?  I know she said he was involved with announcing some of the events for the Olympics.”  I smoothed the skirt of the lavender floaty chiffon, turning back and forth to make the skirt move.  “It was right around the time her dad passed away, so…” I trailed off on that sobering thought.  Ben and I had been with Brynne when the call came through that her father had drowned in his swimming pool.  I don’t think I would ever forget the horribleness of that day.  The poor girl had been through some dark and terrible times leading up to this wedding.  She had tearfully asked Ben to give her away, which had touched him deeply.  We all just wanted some peace and happiness for her and Ethan.  They surely deserved some.

“I think we
might have a winner,” I announced as I stepped out.  “What is your opinion, Mr. Clarkson?”

He swept his eyes up and down me with a critical eye.  He circled his finger for me to turn for him.  Ben was all seriousness when it came to clothing.  I knew he was evaluating how to
accessorize me and fix my hair.  He was brutally honest and would tell me if it was a good choice.  Or not.  Our relationship had always been an honest one, which was why he could talk to me about personal things off limits with most people.

“Do you feel pretty in that one then?”

“I do.  Yes.  Thank you for helping me.” I pushed up on my toes to kiss him on the cheek.  “What would I do without you to choose my clothes?”

He snickered down at me
with a smug look on his handsome face.  “I have absolutely no idea, my darling.”

Somerset

22
nd
August

LAKE Leticia was just large enough for my Cessna T206.  A floatplane required only two hundred metres to safely manoeuvre a landing, but five hundred were needed to take off again.  The private lake on my cousin’s estate made my trip over from Donadea quick and painless.  No driving at all, just a pleasant trip across the Irish Sea.  Lake to lake it only took me an hour.

The biggest hassle was anchoring and tying her down so when I wanted
to take off three days from now, she wasn’t drifting about in the
middle
of Lake Leticia.  The tiny loading dock for rowboats served just fine for Nelly’s purposes.  I pulled her up alongside, dropped anchor, and did up the ropes.

Colin and Jordan greeted me on the dock with typical
boyish enthusiasm and insisted on carrying my bags.  Hannah and Freddy were raising some wonderful kids and made it look so easy when it wasn’t.  As I was well aware.

That’s because n
othing good and worthwhile is ever easy.

I’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“Did you bring your bow, Ivan?  The one you used in 2008 when you won the gold medal?  Did you bring your medals with you?  Will you let us shoot it again?”  They pelted me with questions.

“
Gentleman, what do you think are in those cases you’re carrying?”  I held up my leather bag.  “I’ve got you lads hauling the important stuff.  This is just my clothes.”

“You wouldn’t let us carry the cases if you didn’t trust us, right?”
Jordan asked.

“That’s right.”  I buzzed
the top of his hair with my hand and let them lead me up to the house, their chatter dominating the conversation the entire way.

It felt
really good to be with them again.

“I’M
so glad you came up this afternoon before things really get nutter around here.  We actually might be able to have a visit for once,” Hannah told me over the family table.  “We don’t see you enough, Ivan.”

“Me too,” I answered quietly.  “Where else can I get a gourmet meal and eat with a prin
cess?”  I winked at Zara, Hannah and Freddy’s youngest, who sat glued to my side enjoying her dish of strawberry ice cream.

“Mummy said Prince Harry is coming to Uncle Ethan’s wedding.  He’s a real prince,” she informed me with a grin and
big blue eyes that would charm the ever living hell out of many a bloke, princes included, in another decade or so.  Probably less time than that.  She was only five and already breaking hearts everywhere.  I was still amused by Ethan’s telling of how Zara had been the one to spill the beans that “Auntie Brynne was preggers whether she likes it or not.”