didn’t have an invitation. I gate-crashed.” There was defiance in her gaze.
Then she turned away. He heard what she had, the sound of the taxi pulling up at the curb.
But all he could think about was that Roland hadn’t invited her. Or she could be lying. Again. “Why? What did you hope to achieve?”
She didn’t answer and started to move away.
“Tell me, dammit.” Without thought, he reached for her. His hands closed over her shoulders covered with the fine fabric of his jacket. He glared down into her blank features, her lashes lying long and dark against her cheeks. “Tell me!”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Had she tried to break up Roland’s engagement? He struggled to read the beautiful, frozen face. “I think it does.”
She didn’t answer. He slid his hands down and circled her wrists, gave them a shake to get her to meet his gaze.
Wrapped in his jacket, she stood unmoving. And strangely that made him even angrier. He wanted her to object to his hold, he wanted her to struggle, to see her eyes spit fire at him; he didn’t like the limp arms in his grasp, the listlessness in her eyes.
So he softened his grasp and said with quiet menace, “What did you want at Saxon’s Folly tonight?”
She hesitated. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.”
He heard the taxi door open.
“Ma’am, did you book the taxi?”
He looked over her shoulder. “The lady’s not ready to leave yet.”
“But I am,” she murmured.
His brows drew together. “I want an answer before you go. What did you want?”
What had happened between her and Roland? Had Roland sent her away—was that why she’d kissed him out in the garden? To get back at Roland? Was that why she’d landed in his bed?
As revenge against his brother?
He didn’t like that idea at all. Yet he couldn’t seem to bring himself to release her arm. The pain in her eyes damn near killed him.
He’d never envied his older brother, but now he did.
Whatever happened, if Roland survived the hours of surgery that lay ahead, Joshua wasn’t going to allow Alyssa to rekindle whatever affair she and Roland had going. He told himself that his resolve had nothing to do with the wild feeling that Alyssa had aroused in him; he had Amy to think about. Sweet Amy who was expecting to marry Roland in two months’ time.
Behind him he heard the doors whisper open.
“Joshua?”
He turned and glared at Heath. “What?”
“Mother wants you.”
Alyssa pulled free. “I’ll get your jacket back to you tomorrow.”
“I don’t care about the damn jacket.” Inside he seethed. “This conversation is not finished. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
She wouldn’t flee town overnight, not while the outcome of Roland’s surgery was unknown. Secure in that knowledge he turned on his heel and followed his brother back into the hospital.
It was going to be a long night.
The sound of her cell phone ringing shattered Alyssa’s restless sleep. The compressing darkness of the hotel room lay like a heavy blanket around her.
It would be Joshua calling to finish the conversation he’d started outside the emergency room. Alyssa dragged herself upright. She wasn’t ready for this confrontation. Then she spotted the green digital numerals of the clock radio and her heart jolted with fear. Four-thirty in the morning. Too early to be Joshua.
Her hand trembling, she picked up the phone.
“Where are you staying?” Little composure remained in Kay Saxon’s voice.
Alyssa’s heart slammed against her ribs in fear as she automatically gave Kay the information she sought. “Is Roland okay?” she asked shakily.
There was an ominous silence. Then Kay said, “I’ll send a cab. You need to come now.” The phone went dead.
It had to be bad.
With few alternatives—the red dress or a pin-striped business suit—Alyssa threw on the pair of baggy sweats and sweater she’d worn for the drive down to Hawkes Bay and was downstairs in minutes. By the time the lights of the cab cut through the dark gray pre-dawn light she was already out on the sidewalk.
Too soon she’d reached the white hospital building. Inside, everything was quiet. She made for the front desk. “Where will I find Roland Saxon?”
“Are you Alice?” A nurse came around the desk at her silent nod. “Come, I’ll take you to him.”
Sick with anxiety, Alyssa was led through double-seal doors into a unit filled with beeps and a sense of life-and-death gravity. At the sound of hissing as the ventilator rose and fell, fear shafted through Alyssa.
She took in the couple hovering by the bed.
Kay and Phillip Saxon.
On a high bed lay a prone figure wrapped in dressings, attached to the life-support machines, an oxygen mask over his face, so swollen that he was rendered unrecognizable. Only the shock of red hair sticking out from the head dressing revealed that this was Roland.
“You have five minutes,” the nurse whispered. “Only family are supposed to be here—and only two at a time. I’ve already stretched the rules.” Then she was gone in a rustle of starch.
Kay Saxon turned, her eyes puffy. She’d aged in the past few hours. “I’m glad you made it.”
“How is he?”
“He’s unconscious. I’m not sure how much is induced—”
Alyssa said desperately, “But he’s going to be all right.”
He had to be.
Kay took her hands. “The doctors don’t think so. That’s why I called you. I couldn’t live with myself if—” Her voice broke.
Cold dread suffocated Alyssa. “They think he’s going to die?”
Kay hesitated. “They told us to call anyone who might want to see him. They warned us to prepare for the worst.”
Her world crashed in. Alyssa fell to her knees, stretching her hands to touch the heavily bandaged hands of the man in the bed.
Her brother.
Her brother who was dying.
Kay
