From Florence With Love. Lucy Gordon

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From Florence With Love - Lucy Gordon Mills & Boon M&B

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came back, a wan smile on her face. ‘Jo’s there.’

      ‘Jo?’

      ‘The other contestant. Lydia’s lost the race. She’s going to be so upset. I can’t tell her yet.’

      ‘I think you should. She might stop fretting if it’s too late, let herself relax and get better.’

      Claire gave a tiny, slightly hysterical laugh. ‘You don’t know her very well, do you?’

      He smiled ruefully. ‘No. No, I don’t.’ And it was ridiculous that he minded the fact.

      Lydia looked up as they went back in, and she scanned Claire’s face.

      ‘Did you ring the radio station?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Has …’ She could hardly bring herself to ask the question, but she took another breath and tried again. ‘Has Jo got there yet?’ she asked, and then held her breath. It was possible she’d been unlucky, that she hadn’t managed to get a flight, that any one of a hundred things could have happened.

      They hadn’t. She could see it in Claire’s eyes, she didn’t need to be told that Jo and Kate, her minder, were already there, and she felt the bitter sting of tears scald her eyes.

      ‘She’s there, isn’t she?’ she asked, just because she needed confirmation.

      Claire nodded, and Lydia turned her head away, shutting her eyes against the tears. She was so, so cross with herself. They’d been so close to winning, and if she’d only been more careful, gathered up the stupid dress so she could see the steps.

      She swallowed hard and looked back up at Claire’s worried face. ‘Tell her well done for me when you see her.’

      ‘I will, but you’ll see her, too. We’ve got rooms in the hotel for the night. I’ll ring them now, let them know what’s happening. We can go there when they discharge you.’

      ‘No, I could be ages. Why don’t you go, have a shower and something to eat, see the others and I’ll get them to ring you if there’s any change. Or better still, if you give me back my phone and my purse, I can call you and let you know when I’m leaving, and I’ll just get a taxi.’

      ‘I can’t leave you alone!’

      ‘She won’t be alone, I’ll stay with her. I’m staying anyway, whether you’re here or not,’ Massimo said firmly, and Lydia felt a curious sense of relief. Relief, and guilt.

      And she could see the same emotions in Claire’s face. She was dithering, chewing her lip in hesitation, and Lydia took her hand and squeezed it.

      ‘There, you see? And his brother works here, so he’ll be able to pull strings. It’s fine, Claire. Just go. I’ll see you later.’ And she could get rid of Massimo once Claire had gone …

      Claire gave in, reluctantly. ‘OK, if you insist. Here, your things. I’ll put them in your bag. Where is it?’

      ‘I have no idea. Is it under the bed?’

      ‘No. I haven’t seen it.’

      ‘It must have been left on the ground at the airport,’ Massimo said. ‘My men will have picked it up.’

      ‘Can you check? My passport’s in it.’

      ‘Si.’ He left them briefly, and when he came back he confirmed it had been taken by the others. ‘I’ll make sure you get it tonight,’ he promised.

      ‘Thanks. Right, Claire, you go. I’m fine.’

      ‘You will call me and let me know what’s going on as soon as you have any news?’

      ‘Yes, I promise.’

      Claire gave in, hugging Lydia a little tearfully before she left them.

      Lydia swallowed. Damn. She was going to join in.

      ‘Hey, it’s all right. You’ll be OK.’

      His voice was gentle, reassuring, and his touch on her cheek was oddly comforting. Her eyes filled again.

      ‘I’m causing everyone so much trouble.’

      ‘That’s life. Don’t worry about it. Are you going to tell your family?’

      Oh, cripes. She ought to phone Jen, but she couldn’t. Not now. She didn’t think she could talk to her just yet.

      ‘Maybe later. I just feel so sleepy.’

      ‘So rest. I’ll sit with you.’

      Sit with her and watch her. Do what he should have done years ago.

      She shut her eyes, just for a moment, but when she opened them again he’d moved from her side. She felt a moment of panic, but then she saw him. He was standing a few feet away reading a poster about head injuries, his hands rammed in his pockets, tension radiating off him.

      Funny, she’d thought it was because of the blood, but there was no sign of blood now apart from a dried streak on her dress. Maybe it was hospitals generally. Had Angelina been ill for a long time?

      Or maybe hospitals just brought him out in hives. She could understand that. After Jen’s accident, she felt the same herself, and yet he was still here, still apparently labouring under some misguided sense of obligation.

      He turned his head, saw she was awake and came back to her side, his dark eyes searching hers.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      She nodded. ‘My head’s feeling clearer now. I need to ring Jen,’ she said quietly, and he sighed and cupped her cheek, his thumb smoothing away a tear she hadn’t realised she’d shed.

      ‘I’m sorry, cara. I know how much it meant to you to win this for your sister.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said dismissively, although of course it would to Jen. ‘It was just a crazy idea. They can get married at home, it’s really not an issue. I really didn’t think I’d win anyway, so we haven’t lost anything.’

      ‘Claire said Jo’s been there for ages. She would probably have beaten you to it anyway,’ he said. ‘She must have got away very fast.’

      She didn’t believe it. He was only trying to make it better, to take the sting out of it, but before she had time to argue the doctor came back in, checked her over and delivered her verdict.

      Massimo translated.

      ‘You’re fine, you need to rest for a few days before you fly home, and you need watching overnight, but you’re free to go.’

      She thanked the doctor, struggled up and swung her legs over the edge of the trolley, and paused for a moment, her head swimming.

      ‘All right?’

      ‘I’m fine.

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