“She took a bad tumble on the bottom staircase, Mr. Malcolm. Claims she’s fine but I think someone should be getting a doctor to look her over.” Margaret clucked like a mother hen.
“No doctor!” Aela was adamant.
“Thanks, Margaret. I’ll deal with Miss Cameron.”
Nairn’s abrupt dismissal was final, waiting till Margaret was out of sight before he wrapped his good arm around her. Aela felt him urge her up before he hobbled her into his office. He let rip as soon as he closed his office door.
Chapter Fourteen
“Bloody hell, Aela! What happened? Are you really all right?”
Aela winced as she gingerly lowered herself onto the chair at his desk. “I guess you could say I found an unusual method of descending your staircase.”
“Jacket off.”
“What?”
“Take off your jacket, pull up your top and let me see your back.”
Ignoring his high handed way of asking, she complied knowing his concern was justified. She slid around in the seat as she hauled up her top, baring her back for his examination. The phone buzzed alongside them, but Nairn ignored it.
His voice came out muffled as he twisted himself around to see the damage. “Thank God, there’s no actual bleeding, but it’s grazed and quite bruised.” His fingers were gentle as he probed the area around her lower spine. “Feel that?”
“Sure, but it isn’t so bad. Honestly.”
She was much more conscious of the fact that his fingers were a gentle caress on her. Her skin prickled in awareness. As she pulled down her blouse again, she shivered – not caused by any draught.
“How the hell did it happen?”
She told him about slipping, landing on the buoyancy aid and how it bore the brunt of the impact with the bottom step.
Nairn’s swearing was vehement; no surprise there. The phone buzzed again.
“Will you answer, or shall I?” Her inquiry was calm since she realized just how upset Nairn was by her tumble.
As she put her jacket back on, he picked up the phone and dragged around his plaster-cast leg till he seemed to remember how awkward that was. She had a hunch his words to Robert were not the ones he really wanted to vent. “Yes. Call the police now.”
The phone thumped down on its cradle. He groped his way back to his chair and sat down with a struggle, his breathing back to being laboured again. She knew he’d overdone some of the moves in ensuring she was in his office and checked out. “Robert wants to talk to me.”
“Okay, I’ll be out in my office.” Moving to rise, Nairn’s bark stopped her.
“Sit right there. It concerns you, Aela.”
“Things are just getting better by the minute,” she huffed, knowing she wasn’t annoyed with him. Far from it. Although he was very angry, he wasn’t angry with her, and the concern in his gaze swamped her.
Robert’s update wasn’t a good one. “Grease of some kind. I’m guessing something simple like Vaseline, but it was slathered thickly enough on the edge of the step to make it effective. I’ve cordoned off the staircase till the police arrive.”
“Shoes!”
Nairn’s request was a bark, though Aela knew what prompted it. Slipping her heels off, Robert – the healthiest of them – bent down and lifted them up. All three had a look together at their undersides. She’d walked off the grease from the sole, however, there was still a solid smear of it on the arch of her left shoe.
“Could it have got on the stair by accident, by someone dropping something?”
Nairn wouldn’t be convinced about the accidental theory. Neither would Robert as his phone bleeped.
“The Police are in reception, Mr. Malcolm. I’m going down to meet them, but Detective Woods is on his way up to interview Miss Cameron. I suggest you leave your shoes off; he should take a look like we’ve just done.”
Having taken a statement from her, Detective Woods would have liked to take her shoes in for evidence but, since they were her only footwear, he took a sample of the grease after recording the shoes on his phone camera. The detective then went off with his uniformed colleagues to interview every staff member in the building. She wasn’t sure she wanted to wear the damned pink shoes again but they were all she had, and being realistic, the shoes were not to blame.
Nairn hobbled to the window as she sat down again, a tad cautious. He turned back and stopped by her chair, his hand thumping the desk, the violence of it startling her. His blue eyes implored, his voice determined. She could sense the anger held in check by the twitching of his neck muscles. “You’ve got to go now, Aela. You’ve not even been here in London one day, and the bastard’s hurt you, too.”
“Nairn Malcolm.” Fury consumed her, as indignant as he was when she stood up to match his height. “You’re not listening to me. I’m not leaving you.” Grasping the hand pumping a deadly rhythm on the desk beside her she drew it to her front, flattening his fingers across her heart with her own. “This person will be found. And this will all stop, but believe me now…” She dropped his fingers and took his face between her two hands, her eyes scant inches from his, seeking his endorsement. “Look at my lips, Nairn. No friggin’ way will I give in to threats!”
His eyes closed, Nairn’s forehead dipped to rest on hers. He was exhausted, distressed and so angry she felt he was going to combust. With careful movements she supported his strung out body, her arms sliding round his back to banish some of his tension, her fingers a light caress over bowstrung muscles. After long minutes she felt him relax, only a very little.
The kiss she started was gentle at first, a confirmation of sorts of her decision to stick with him, but it soon escalated. When the end came their foreheads touched once more for long moments while Nairn’s breath eased, then he slid out of her grasp, his gaze unlike any they’d shared before. Anxious? Yes. Concerned? Also yes.
But so full of guilt.
“I should be comforting you, Aela. You’re the one in the firing line today.” The blue of his irises darkened, regret changing to a much deeper emotion. “I can’t let you be hurt again.”
She slipped from his arms. It wasn’t going to be easy to make him believe her so she was deft in changing tack, forcing a brisk tone. “Nairn. The police are still downstairs making their enquiries. There’s nothing I can do about leaving you right this minute. I’d have to get myself back to Lanera anyway, in case you’ve forgotten that little fact, so sit down, please. We’re going to carry on doing your business till the police come back in here to give us their updates.”
She knew Nairn wasn’t happy with her decision. It wasn’t simple to continue to work, yet she drove the pace. While the detectives were questioning the staff, nobody was able to leave the building.
The police authorized a doctor’s examination for her as soon as they declared the incident a malicious attempt to harm. X-rays were not thought to be needed, but the assertion was she should go to an A&E unit should any change occur in her mobility, or should she have any tingling, or changes to the feeling in her legs.
Nairn wasn’t convinced about the doctor’s decision.
“Nairn Malcolm. Would you just listen to yourself? You’re neither my mother, nor my father, but you are one helluva big pain in the ass. I do not need to go to a hospital.”
The tender kiss they’d shared faded into memory, as though it had never occurred, discord a poor replacement.
The grease was dispatched for lab testing, the police in accordance with Robert: it likely was some kind of petroleum jelly, the kind found in medical kits. There were loads of those kits at strategic places around the buildings, accessible to the whole staff. Not exactly good news for pin-pointing the exact source.
The conjecture over why it happened took less time to establish. If she was injured, unable to ferry Nairn around, then Nairn would be confined to base and back to square one.
Too many people, it would seem, had been party to the information that she had flown his jet, and had driven him
to the office.
Way past nine p.m. they were still in the London office though everyone else had long since exited the building – apart from security and those working night duty. The return trip Nairn had planned had not transpired, but nothing had been mentioned yet about a stay-over in London. He hadn’t rested at all: relations between them still glacial. She’d refused to leave him so many times he’d stopped asking.
He’d also stopped speaking to her except when absolutely necessary.
Aela knew she’d have to get herself booked into a hotel and get Nairn to his London apartment. Thinking about the effort required made her groan. Wincing as she rose from her chair she knew her back was fine, but her butt cheeks had not got off so lightly.
A determined grin spread as she met Nairn coming through the connecting door, her inquiry clashing with his.
“I’m booking myself a…”
“Bring round the car, please. I’ll wait in the downstairs lobby.”
He tottered past her to the lift without giving her a chance to say any more. Knowing he was back to almost passing out again, she gathered up their laptops. Chiding him for neglecting himself seemed such a waste of energy and now it smacked maybe just a bit too much like the pot calling the kettle black.
After she plotted the route to his London apartment, he reeled off a telephone number, his eyes already closed.
“Tell Richard we’ll need a meal as soon as we arrive.”
The classy block of apartments wasn’t far away, thank heavens. She had been dreading a long drive.
“We’re here, Nairn.”
His sleepy eyes met hers and he smiled a genuine smile just for her, a smile which rocked her bones before he looked around and acknowledged his surroundings.
Nairn’s housekeeper, a dapper white-haired man of around sixty, ushered them inside the apartment. Much to her surprise she was shown into a bedroom for her use and in no time at all Richard had them seated at the dining room table, a meal in front of them. Almost too tired to eat she was conscious of how fatigued Nairn must be. The limited amount of bruising she had made her empathize more acutely with his extensive injuries.
They ate in silence because Nairn was distracted. Not morose: disturbed. She sensed guilt sat heavy on his shoulders, but she’d had more than enough of it. Her tone was harsh, intended to break through his abstraction.
“Nairn. Would you cut the bloody guilt trip? I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Again, convincing him wasn’t going to be easy. “The doctor checked me thoroughly. My butt feels like a friggin’ punch bag, but I’ve enough padding to take it. My injuries will heal long before yours.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” A weak smile accompanied his next quip. “I suppose I’m not getting to see all your bruises up close?”
“No way!”
Nairn declared he was going to bed, instructing her to be ready for breakfast at eight a.m. after which they’d return to the office. “Will you still be here, Miss Cameron?” The formal name put her back in her place.
“You can bet your life on it, sir.” Her mock salute gained her a sleepy grin from him. “I keep my promises.”
She was annoyed by his neglect of his recovering body, yet was in awe of his stamina. All she wanted to do was drop into bed and sleep the sleep of the dead, but she still had a predicament. Nairn had clothes, and basic necessities, stored in the London apartment. She had nothing apart from what she was wearing, since he’d categorically declared they were making a short day trip.
Asking Richard for directions to the nearest store operating twenty-four-hour trading she was told anything could be acquired by placing a few phone calls, even at such a late hour. For some reason his assured answer disturbed Aela; it smacked too much of him kitting out Nairn’s lady friends on previous occasions. Not appealing at all.
“Good heavens, that’s not necessary.” She tried not to sound judgmental. “Could you just direct me to a store which can provide basic supplies?”
Richard mentioned a large supermarket nearby stocking almost everything, his scathing tone indicating they didn’t cater to anyone of quality, but he relented sufficiently to say he would arrange for a porter to accompany her. Only a short walk away, using local pathways, was quicker than going by car.
“You have porters downstairs?” Aela’s eyebrows shot up since it wasn’t a hotel.
“Of course, Miss Cameron. These serviced apartments can organize anything our owners might require, and that requires twenty-four-hour porter services.”
Before she left, Aela ensured that Nairn could get properly undressed before bed.
“Richard? Mr. Malcolm might need assistance with fiddly buttons because he’s totally exhausted right now. Could you help him without awakening the ogre?”
Richard glided towards Nairn’s bedroom. A discrete knock on the door came before he declared he’d sorted out alterations to Nairn’s suit trousers as requested, and could he lay out a suitable choice for the morning? True valet style.
She smiled at the panache, but Nairn’s problems weren’t hers – she had enough of her own to sort out.
Chris, the porter she found downstairs, couldn’t be more than sixteen. Delighted to help, he accompanied her to the store.
“If you don’t mind, Miss, it’ll be best if I wheel your purchases for you,” he declared, grabbing a shopping cart.
The purchases she intended to make were going to be items of a very personal nature. However, the cheeky grin on the porter’s face said it all, as did his next words.
“I’ve shopped with my older sisters. I know how to turn the other cheek. No worries there, Miss.”
Aela hated shopping, knew she’d be out of the store as soon as she found the basic necessities, but found the clothing racks and lingerie section displayed plenty of choices. Though low budget items they would do well enough, and since her backpack back at the castle only held casual items she kitted herself out with a selection of business attire. Having gained the help of the fitting room assistant, her shopping cart filled up quickly. In a record twenty minutes, they were approaching checkout, and she was brandishing her credit card.
“Chris? I need a suitcase. Do you think there might be such a thing here?”
Chris beamed since he knew exactly where the luggage was situated.
Much as she’d wanted to drop into bed earlier she enjoyed the little sojourn with Chris who was a well-informed young man about the neighbourhood.
***
Nairn blinked in admiration of the woman who stepped into his dining room. Leaving aside the newspaper he’d spread open at the side of his breakfast plate, he gave her his full attention. Aela was indeed still here. She was a woman who did live up to her promises, and how!
The day before she’d been wearing the flirty little suit she’d interviewed in and now she looked so elegant, clad in a suit of black, pin-striped with cream. The yellow silky-knit top she wore hugged her curves. A pair of black court shoes were suitably business-like. She was so beautiful, he ached. All his pains intensified.
Where had she acquired the clothes? They’d brought no luggage with them the day before.
Although he’d had previous lovers stay the night in his apartment, he was certain none of them had ever left a work suit like the one Aela was now wearing. In fact, no previous lover had ever left anything personal since they’d been fleeting contacts, their clothing never remotely like business attire.
The day before had been so fraught with anxiety it hadn’t occurred to him a stopover might present problems and Aela hadn’t quibbled at all when it’d become obvious they’d have to stay in London. His London wardrobe was better equipped for business clothes than the castle, so he’d not considered any inconvenience to Aela.
Yet, somehow, she’d managed to kit herself out very proficiently. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this capable woman – apart from finding her far too tempting.
“Good morning
.” Aela’s breezy greeting warmed as much as her beaming smile.
He belatedly realized he’d been gaping without returning a dickey-bird. It was Richard who greeted Aela with a smile as he held out the chair, and seated her at the table.
“Good morning, Miss Cameron. I see your late-evening stroll went well,” Richard said.
A stroll? Last night? Nairn flicked open his newspaper to the next page, his ears perking up. In London? His apartment wasn’t in the suburbs, and it was always busy around his neighbourhood.
Richard continued. “Please permit me to say I was too scathing, since your choices look superb. May I assist you with some coffee or tea, Miss Cameron?”
After a solicitous flapping of her napkin into place Richard smiled again, a smile Nairn had rarely seen during the five years the man had been in his employ.
He watched the exchange with mixed feelings. It appeared Aela could charm any male over the age of puberty. He’d never seen Richard so attentive to any of his previous guests’ comfort female or male. Although Aela was clearly the most beautiful woman he’d ever brought to the apartment, previous girlfriends had also been attractive.
“Coffee please, and thanks for your help last night. Chris was a wonderful escort.”
Aela’s warm recognition earned a little smile from Richard who excused himself to go to the kitchen.
“Chris?” He made his inquiry sound casual as he noisily turned another page, one-handed, but the sudden churning in his gut unsettled the breakfast he’d just finished.
How was it possible for her to have met someone last night after the stressful day they’d put in? Someone had maliciously harmed her. Was the woman bionic or something? She’d gone out on the town without him, seeing how incapacitated he was? Even after her own accident? What the hell else had she done with this Chris? Her escort for the night? While he’d been sleeping the sleep of the dead? In the next room?
He was beginning to be sick of all the questions spinning around his bothered brain.
Take Me Now Page 13
