From Paris With Love This Christmas

by Jules Wake

  ‘Someone do this to you?’ Outrage tinged his voice.

  ‘Yes, but it was sort of my fault.’ The death grip on his hand tightened.

  He studied her face, the red swelling like a small plum above the cheekbone, congealed dried blood below. Looking down he realised her jeans were muddy all down one side and one shoe was missing, leaving a saturated, torn sock.

  Tension rode his muscles, he tried to keep the anger out of his voice, she was already clearly badly shaken and he didn’t want to upset her any more. ‘Tell me exactly what happened. Take your time.’

  ‘I was doing my job. Did you know? People are so mean.’

  He almost smiled at the disbelief in her voice.

  ‘They shut the door in your face. A man spat at me. They swear. I don’t understand. How am I doing them any harm? That’s just—’ She lifted her shoulders.

  ‘Unfortunately a lot of people who sell door-to-door use quite strong tactics. They have quite a bad reputation.’

  She sighed. ‘But I’m trying to help them. Improve their houses.’

  He did smile this time, picturing Siena in sales mode. He liked that she started to sound a little bit indignant.

  ‘Some people really don’t look after their houses. The windows are all peeling, the doors need painting. You’d have thought those people would want to make their houses look nice. And then not have to bother with all the boring refurbishment and upkeep.’

  Bless her, you’d think she’d swallowed the sales manual whole.

  ‘I guess, it’s not that important to some people.’ He rubbed her hand, not wanting to point out that some people might find it offensive to be told their houses need improving.

  ‘They don’t have to be so rude …’ she paused and he felt her sway forward, ‘about it.’

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Feel a bit sick every now and then.’

  ‘Do you want me to get a bowl or something?’

  ‘No, I think I’m alright now.’

  She did look very peaky, but he felt that keeping her talking was the right thing to do. ‘Whereabouts were you, er, selling?’

  She named the least salubrious area of town and he very nearly dropped her.

  ‘What?’ He shook his head. ‘Bloody hell, that’s about as rough as it gets. I’m surprised you weren’t—’ He stopped, his eyes returning to the swelling on her face. ‘Fuck. Did someone do this to you?’ He lifted a finger, outlining the gash on her cheek. She flinched. ‘Oh Siena.’

  With his thumbs he wiped away the tears and pulled her towards him, feeling his heart pounding. Without thinking or questioning it, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. It felt soft under his lips. His pulse tripped. He wanted to pull her close, nuzzle the velvet skin, keep her there. Make her feel safe again.

  Forcing himself to pull away and surprised at the sudden sense of loss, he asked again, ‘What happened?’

  ‘I knocked at the door. There were steps up to it. The man opened it. He was already cross. I should have realised. I said sorry for disturbing him, but I was polite.’ Her lips crumpled and she let out a sob. ‘I tried to tell him but he didn’t let me finish. He said you will be. Then he started to say all sorts of horrible things, calling me—’ She stopped. ‘It was awful and I froze. I know I shouldn’t have made him even crosser.’

  Jason straightened puzzled by her choice of words.

  ‘I didn’t mean to … but then I didn’t know what to do and then he,’ her eyes widened, ‘h-h-he punched me. I fell down the stairs, I forget what happened then. I might have fainted and then I was on the ground and I c-couldn’t g-get up for a minute, everything was fuzzy. And he kicked me. And then kept trying to kick me again. Then I got up and ran away. Then I got lost and didn’t know where I was. My phone’s smashed and I walked and walked, then I knew where I was and I came home.’

  His hands clenched involuntarily, so hard they hurt his knuckles. It took all his control to grit his teeth and not give in to the burning temptation to go out and ram the fucker’s own teeth down his throat. What an arse. What kind of animal hit someone like Siena? Anyone could see she was an innocent abroad.

  Every muscle felt taut but when he felt answering tension in Siena’s body, he forced himself to relax. Let his jaw go. Breathe evenly. She needed gentleness now, not his rage.

  He lifted her from his knee, turned and placed her on the kitchen chair before crossing to put on the kitchen light.

  In the sudden light, she looked dreadful. Paper white, her eyes huge in her face, still with that slight glassy sheen to them and her beautiful hair tangled and matted. Her clothes were streaked with dirt.

  ‘Did you hit your head when you fell?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Show me where?’

  ‘Ici.’ She pointed to a spot and his fingers delved into her thick hair to find a definite lump.

  ‘Have you got a headache?’ Stupid question really, after all she’d been through, it was more than likely. ‘Do you feel sick or dizzy?’

  ‘Sick? Oui, j’ai mal au cœur.’

  ‘Do you think you’re going to be?’

  ‘Je n’en suis pas sûr, it comes in waves.’

  ‘OK, what about where he kicked you? Can you show me?’

  ‘It was my back, en deçà.’ She pointed to her side.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ He moved his fingers down her ribcage at the back.

  ‘Ow, oui. There.’ She flinched as he probed one particular spot. ‘It’s OK until I move or you touch it. It’s fine when I stay …’ she went even whiter. ‘Sorry I think …’ she closed her eyes, her forehead crumpling in distress. ‘No it’s gone again. Thought I might be sick.’

  ‘Anywhere else hurt?’

  ‘Partout. Everywhere hurts.’ He almost felt relief at her put out little girl tone and the pout that pursed her lips. Signs of the real Siena for a second.

  ‘Apart from everywhere, is there anywhere else specific?’

  ‘My legs, my ribs, my foot.’

  Crouching down in front of her he lifted it and peeled what was left of the tattered sock away from her heel. Hell’s teeth, no wonder it hurt. A large bulging blister had formed on the heel of her foot, while the rest of the sole was filthy with ingrained dirt and covered in lots of tiny bloody scratches.

  ‘What happened to your boot?’

  ‘Perdu. It came off when I fell down the stairs. Merde, my foot really hurts.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. This needs some attention.’ Maybe he ought to take her to hospital. She seemed in shock, but a four hour wait in casualty probably wouldn’t be as good as a night’s sleep.

  ‘Your foot needs a good clean. We need to soak it, to get some of the grit out. Let’s go up to the bathroom.’

  Pulling her to her feet, she swayed for a moment. ‘I feel sick again.’

  ‘No worries.’ Leaving her side he went to the sink and grabbed the washing up bowl. As soon as he’d got her sorted, he’d give Ben’s sister a call, she was a nurse.

  Supporting her as she limped slowly step by step, he led her upstairs. She needed to get out of her clothes and he didn’t think she was really in any fit state to do it herself. Leading her to the bathroom, he settled her on the loo seat. ‘Do you have a dressing gown?’ he gave her a gentle smile, ‘that’s a bit less flimsy that the little number you had on the other morning?’

  She managed a weak nod of her head, her lips curving.

  ‘Wait there a minute.’ He darted off to his bedroom to grab his, not wanting to leave her a second longer than he had to.

  ‘I need to undress you, OK?’

  Something tugged at his heart as she looked at him, complete trust in her eyes. Trying to be as quick and impersonal as possible, he undid the buttons of her blouse. He couldn’t help but notice the lacy white bra and the creamy flesh spilling over the top but, rather proud of himself, he kept his mind on the task before looking at her back. He traced the curve of her ribs; she seemed so soft and fragile. Although tall, her b
uild was slender. No sign of bruising yet, but the large red mark below her shoulder blade made his blood boil. He had to clench his fist to stop the hiss of disgust. As a veteran of the rugby pitch, he knew it was unlikely the hospital would do an x-ray for a possible broken rib, so not much point going to A&E for that, although her head concerned him. The glassy eyed stare that she kept lapsing into could be either shock or concussion.

  The silk blouse slipped to the floor in a puddle and he tried hard not to look at her breasts, instead his eyes drifted down. He frowned. A fist-sized bluish tinge on her stomach caught his eye. A bruise but not a fresh one. Before he could ask her about it, she went rigid.

  ‘I’m going to be ssss …’

  With seconds to spare he whipped the bowl onto her lap and held her hair away as she heaved and choked into the bowl.

  ‘Dieu, that hurts,’ she gasped and moaned as another spasm gripped her and she dropped her head again.’

  With her long curls wrapped around his hand, he stood there, unable to do anything to help, hating feeling so damn helpless.

  At last she pushed the bowl away.

  ‘I–I think that’s it now.’

  Just as well he thought, those final dry heaves must have hurt her ribs. She really was in a pitiful state, reminiscent of a small bedraggled kitten that had been rescued from a canal.

  ‘Do you want a shower?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’ll put it on for you, take your jeans off and I’ll leave you for five minutes. Then I’ll be back. Do you think you can manage?’

  Another nod.

  ‘I’ll leave this for you, then you don’t have to worry about drying yourself.’ He indicated his navy blue towelling dressing gown and stood up, taking the washing up bowl downstairs with him.

  Outside the bathroom door he prowled, pacing backwards and forwards. What kind of fucker could do that to a woman? To Siena. Calming his breathing he listened. The shower had stopped. He gave her a minute.

  ‘Are you decent?’

  No answer.

  He knocked on the door. ‘I’m coming in.’

  She stood, trying to belt the dressing gown, intense concentration on her face, the sleeves hanging below her hands. With her damp curls, she looked like Little Orphan Annie and he bit back a smile.

  ‘Don’t laugh. I look ridiculous.’ The shower had obviously revived her and to his relief he could see a bit of colour in her cheeks.

  ‘I was thinking kind of cute.’

  She let out a huge sigh. ‘I feel so stupide.’

  ‘Stupid? That’s silly. Come on let’s get you into bed. I think that’s the best place for you.’

  He led her into her bedroom, propped up the pillows pulled back the covers and ushered her in.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she settled in.

  ‘Right, I’m going to get you a cup of hot sweet tea because I think you’re in shock, and a couple of painkillers.’

  She gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m so sorry to be so much trouble. You don’t have to look after me. I’ll be OK.’ He gave her a pointed look and turned to leave the room. ‘It’s not like you’re responsible for me or anything.’

  He stopped and looked back at her. The words were spoken softly, no hint of sarcasm, a bald statement of truth. They hit hard.

  ‘Shut up, Siena.’ Inside, his stomach clenched.

  He took the stairs slowly, shaking his head. What an arse. A real gent to have given her the impression that he wasn’t willing to help her when she needed it. That wasn’t him, or at least it never used to be. When had he become so focused on protecting himself that he shut other people out? Had Stacey really skewed his view of other people and their motives that much?

  At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway. He stared at himself. These days his mouth had a slight down turn. Even as he examined his lower lip, always too bloody girly, he could see his face settle into its default expression. It, he, looked grumpy. He swallowed. Was that how other people saw him these days? He closed his eyes but forced himself to look again. Practiced a smile, lifting the corners of his mouth. It looked forced.

  With an impatient huff, he wheeled away and into the kitchen.

  Ransacking the cupboards for painkillers, he found a dusty pack of paracetamol and some ibuprofen and then he hesitated. What if she had concussion?

  A quick phone call reassured him, but he was in for a long night. Ben’s sister had said paracetamol only and since Siena was reasonably lucid, she recommended Jason monitored her throughout the night, waking her every couple of hours to make sure she woke up and that her headache wasn’t worse.

  ‘Here, take two of these.’ He passed her the tablets and the tea.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Stupid.’

  ‘You said that before.’

  ‘I feel even more stupid now. And I threw up in front of you. That’s so not cool.’

  ‘What and stripping down to your bra and knickers is?’ He smiled at her cross-patch face.

  ‘A gentleman wouldn’t mention that.’

  He winced at the word gentleman. ‘True and a gentleman wouldn’t hit anyone. We’ll call the police in the morning.’

  ‘The police?’ Siena looked fearful.

  ‘Yes. That man assaulted you.’

  ‘He. I made him cross. I-I do that t-to some people. You. I made you cross. Remember. I don’t want to get the police involved. It was—’

  ‘Siena, you didn’t make him cross. He chose to be cross. And even if you are cross, you don’t hit people. He chose to hit you and then when you were on the ground, kick you. Are you going to tell me that didn’t happen? Because I suspect you may have a cracked rib and if the swelling on your face doesn’t go down, possibly a fractured cheekbone. We’re talking serious assault here, not just cross.’

  Siena studied her tea. ‘I don’t want to go the police. I’m sorry.’

  It wasn’t worth pushing the issue tonight. She’d been through enough for one day but something she said nagged at him. ‘Why do think it’s your fault he was cross?’

  ‘Sometimes I do things. It makes people cross.’

  ‘People who?’

  She looked sideways.

  ‘Is that what they told you?’

  She nodded but wouldn’t lift her face.

  ‘Siena, no one should hit you ever. No matter how angry, cross or upset they get. That’s a non-negotiable.’

  He sighed, now ultra-conscious of his previous motivations, wary of what he said and how he phrased it. It wasn’t that he was trying to get rid of her, not for himself, but she had to see that this incident highlighted how ill-equipped she was to function in the real world.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s time to go home?’

  Her eyes fluttered closed, leaving Jason looking at her suspiciously. Yeah, she could hide but she couldn’t run. This wasn’t the end of this conversation. He looked at his watch. She could sleep for two hours and then he’d wake her, and every two hours after that throughout the night.

  It was going to be a long one. He had half a mind to phone Laurie and get her to phone their mother but then they’d both worry. For tonight he could do the worrying for both of them.

  Chapter 7

  As soon as she surfaced, anxiety started to gnaw. It took a while for her brain to catch up and then as she moved, all the aches and pains exploded into her conscious. Ah bordel, every single part of her hurt. Especially her pride. Thinking about walking back yesterday made her wince. What must people have thought? In one boot, looking like she’d been in a fight. Thank goodness she didn’t know anyone. If that had got onto Facebook or Snapchat …

  Moving with the speed of an old lady, she swung her legs carefully off the bed and took a shallow breath as the pain in her rib lanced through like a lightning strike. Right, maybe it was going to take a while to get going today. As she pulled herself to her feet, she caught sight of herself in the
mirror.

  ‘Ah putain!’ She lifted her hand to the cheek which had swollen to Quasimodo-like proportions. Ow, that hurt. Worst still, she had a black eye! Her hair looked like as if it had been whipped up with an egg whisk and then sprayed in place. Even when she’d dressed up for the Hallowe’en Ball at Versailles as a zombie, after three hours of make-up, she hadn’t looked this horrific.

  The gentle tap at the door made her want to go running back to bed and hide under the pillows, except there was no way she could move that fast.

  ‘Siena, can I come in? You decent?’

  Interesting question, given she wore his robe. It smelt of him, an undefinable scent evoking his kindness last night as he’d woken her gently every couple of hours, bringing her tablets for her headache and before that, she bit her lip, she didn’t want to think how it had felt to burrow into his lap in the half-lit kitchen, tucked into the crook between his neck and shoulder or the haven of his arms. How could she feel so safe with a man she’d known a few days, when a man she’d known all her life could make her feel so powerless?

  ‘Siena?’ His voice sharpened.

  ‘Yes.’ She swallowed hard, facing him this morning also meant having to face up to a lot of things she’d rather leave buried. Time to come clean. ‘You can come in.’

  The tray of tea and toast he carried reminded her how long it was since she’d last eaten and her stomach rumbled in a most unladylike manner but then Jason had held her head while she threw up last night, so it was the least of her worries.

  ‘Morning. How are you feeling?’ He winced as he looked at her face, put the tray down and came closer to study it. He’d showered already and smelt of some manly soap she couldn’t identify but he hadn’t shaved and the dark bristles outlined his strong jawline. Looking at them, she remembered them softly prickling her nose when he kissed her forehead last night. She swallowed and looked down at her feet, worried by the sudden flush she felt at the memory of the brief touch of his lips. Comfort, that was all it had been and yet it touched her. Even in her battered state, the warmth of it felt like sunlight on a spring flower after a long winter. And wasn’t that ridiculously fanciful? He didn’t even like her very much.