His Most Exquisite Conquest (11 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
HERE
WAS
A
persistent tune penetrating the fog in Lucy’s sleep-laden head. On and on it went, until she was conscious enough to realise it was the call-tune of her mobile telephone. Still groggy, she flung an arm out to the bedside table, fumbled around until her hand found the source of irritation. She wanted to shut it off, but some vague memory of Michael leaving the phone beside her to call him made her lift it to her ear.

‘Yes...what?’ The words emerged in a slurred fashion. Her mouth was dreadfully dry. Her tongue felt furred. It was a huge effort to speak at all.

‘Wake up, Lucy!’ someone ordered sharply. ‘There’s been an accident.’

A woman’s voice. It sounded like her sister. And saying something about an accident. On the island?

Lucy hauled herself into a sitting position and tried to concentrate. Having pried her eyes open, she could see there was some very early-morning light coming from her window, but it was still an ungodly hour to call anyone.

‘What?’ she asked again. ‘Is that you, Ellie?’

‘Yes. Michael was injured in a car accident early this morning. He was badly hurt.’

‘Michael...oh, no... No...’ Shock cleared her mind in no time flat. The memory of him bringing her home, looking after her, going out to get something for her stomach shot straight into it. ‘Oh, God!’ she wailed. ‘It’s my fault!’

‘How is it your fault?’ Ellie asked worriedly.

‘I ate something at dinner last night that upset me. He brought me home. I was vomiting and had dreadful diarrhoea. He left me to find an all-night pharmacy to get me some medicine. I was so drained I must have drifted off to sleep. He should have come back, but he’s not here and... Oh, God! He went out for me, Ellie!’

‘Stop that, Lucy! You didn’t cause the accident, and getting hysterical won’t help Michael,’ she said vehemently, cutting off the futile guilt trip. ‘I take it everything was still good between you last night?’

‘Yes...yes... He was so caring when I was sick. Oh, Ellie! I’ll die if I lose him.’

She forgot she had probably already lost him. All she could think of was how special he was, how much she loved him.

‘Then you’d better do whatever you can to make him want to live,’ Ellie sharply advised. ‘Are you still sick? Can you get to the hospital? He’s in an intensive care unit.’

‘I’ll get there.’ Gritty determination quelled every vestige of hysterical panic.

‘Harry was with me on the island,’ Ellie went on. ‘He’s on his way. Be kind to him, Lucy. Remember he and Michael lost their parents in an accident. I have to stay here. Harry’s counting on me to take care of business, but I think he’ll need someone there, too.’

‘I understand. You love him but you can’t be with him.’

At least that was good—Ellie and Harry teaming up together. Lucy couldn’t let herself dwell on where she and Michael were in their relationship when he was fighting for his life in an intensive care unit.

‘I need to know what’s happening, Lucy,’ Ellie said in a softer tone. ‘Please...will you keep me informed?’

‘Sure!’ Clearly, the situation deeply concerned her sister, too, with Michael being Harry’s brother, as well as a man she had worked closely with for two years. ‘I’ll call you with news as soon as I have it. Moving now. Over and out. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

Moving was not easy. Lucy was still weak and shaky. Her head whirled as she forced her legs to take her to the bathroom. Nothing in her stomach, she thought, but was too scared of being sick again to eat or drink anything. Somehow she had to make it to the hospital and not look like the total wreck she saw in the vanity mirror.

Slowly, carefully, she cleaned herself up, brushed her hair and applied some make-up to put colour in her face. Bright clothes, she decided, wanting to make Michael smile...if he was up to smiling at all. She refused to let herself think he might die, though it was impossible to banish the anxiety spearing pain through her heart.

It took a while to put clothes on, since she needed to sit down more than once until her rockiness subsided. She selected the yellow wraparound dress to remind him of the great sex they’d shared, and the pretty shell necklace that might recall their wonderful time together on Finn Island. He would surely want to live to have those pleasures again.

Being in no condition to drive safely, she called for a taxi to pick her up and take her to the hospital. On the trip there she kept wondering where the accident had happened, and how it could have been so serious when traffic in the city had to move at a relatively slow pace. Had Michael been speeding, wanting to get back to her quickly? Had she unwittingly been the cause of it?

Her mind was awash with tormenting questions when she finally arrived at the intensive care unit. Before she could properly inquire about Michael at the nurses’ station, Harry suddenly appeared at her side and swept her off to the waiting room, his grim expression filling her with fear. He sat her down and stood over her as he gave her the information she most needed to know.

‘It’s not too bad, Lucy. His injuries aren’t life-threatening. He was hit on the driver’s side, right arm and hip fractured, broken ribs, lacerations to the face, a lot of bruising, concussion. The doctors were worried that a broken rib had punctured his liver, but that’s been cleared, and bones will mend.’ Harry’s sigh transmitted a mountain of relief. ‘He’s going to be incapacitated for quite a while, but there should be no lasting damage.’

‘Thank God!’ Her own relief was mountainous, as well. ‘How did it happen, Harry?’ She was still anxious to know that.

‘Drunken teenagers in a stolen car ran a red light and slammed into him as he was driving across an intersection. They’re all here, too. Needless to say, I don’t have much sympathy for them.’

Another huge roll of relief. The accident wasn’t Michael’s fault. Nor hers. It was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, although he wouldn’t have been there but for her. Still, the food poisoning was an accident, too, and there was no point in fretting over it. Moving on was the only way to go.

‘Can I go and see Michael now?’

Harry grimaced. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, to put it bluntly, he’s barely recognisable. It will come as a shock to you. They’ve stitched the cuts on his face, but it’s very bruised and swollen. He’s also sedated to keep the pain at bay, and it’s best if he stays that way. If you start screaming or carrying on—’

She cut him off very sharply. ‘Harry Finn, I nursed my mother while she slowly died from cancer. Nothing is worse than seeing someone you love wasting away. I am no wimp when it comes to facing people who are suffering, and I am not stupid. I care a lot about Michael and no way would I do anything to wake him up to pain. I just want to be with him.’

Surprise at her vehemence gave way to a look of respect for her. He nodded. ‘Then I’ll take you to him.’

‘Good!’

She pushed herself up from the chair and steadied herself for the walk to Michael’s bedside. Harry took her arm, which helped her stay reasonably steady. ‘Have you called Ellie to let her know Michael will come through this?’ she asked, as he led her back to the intensive care unit.

‘Not yet. I’ve just finished talking to the doctors. Since there’s no critical danger, they won’t operate on Mickey until tomorrow morning. I’ve insisted on the top surgeon.’

‘I’m glad about that, but do call my sister, Harry. She’s anxiously waiting for news.’

‘As soon as you’re settled with Mickey,’ he promised.

It was better if Ellie heard everything from Harry, Lucy thought. She would call her sister tonight, hopefully after Michael had woken up and she had more personal news.

Harry certainly hadn’t exaggerated Michael’s facial injuries. Seeing him did come as a shock, but she swiftly told herself all this was a temporary phase. He would heal. Harry pulled up a chair for her to sit beside the bed, and she sank gratefully onto it, reaching out to take Michael’s left hand in hers, mindful that his right arm had been broken. His flesh was warm. No matter how ghastly he looked, he was alive, and she fiercely willed him to want her in his future.

Though she wasn’t sure how much of a future he would want with her. His questioning last night about how many men she had slept with had not left her with a good feeling. It seemed judgemental in a nasty way. He’d told her to forget it, that it didn’t matter, but he had brought it up so it obviously meant something to him. Had her answer satisfied him?

She’d become too ill to assess his reaction to it. Whatever he’d thought, he’d been good to her, sticking around, bringing her home, doing his best to look after her. Still a prince, in that sense. She could only hope there wasn’t a frog lurking inside him.

Her head ached. Harry had left the room, probably to make the call to Ellie. Lucy felt too tired to think anymore. Besides, it seemed pointless. There would be no answers until Michael woke up. She rested her head on the bed beside the hand she was holding. The effort to get here had drained her of what little energy she had after being so sick. She slid into sleep without realising it was happening.

A hand gripping hers hard jerked her awake. Michael’s swollen black eyes were opened into thin slits. Having drawn her attention, he croaked out, ‘Where am I?’

‘In hospital, Mickey,’ Harry answered, rising from a chair on the other side of the bed to put himself in his brother’s line of sight. ‘Don’t move,’ he commanded. ‘You have broken bones.’

‘How? Why? I can’t open my eyes much.’

‘You were in a car accident and your face copped a beating. So did your body,’ Harry told him bluntly.

‘How bad?’

‘You’ll mend, but it will take some time.’

‘It hurts to breathe.’

‘Broken ribs.’

‘Car accident... I can’t remember.’

‘Concussion. The doctors warned me you might not regain any memory of last night.’

Lucy shot an inquiring glance at Harry. He hadn’t told her that. How much memory might be blotted out? And would it stay blotted out?

He nodded to her. ‘Lucy’s here. I’ll go and fetch the doctor on duty. I was told to do that as soon as you were conscious. He’ll answer any questions you have, Mickey.’

Michael squeezed her hand as he shifted his limited vision to her. ‘Lucy,’ he said, as though he loved her name.

She squeezed back, smiling at him. ‘You’re going to be okay,’ she assured him.

‘I remember we had lunch at the Thala Beach Lodge. What happened last night?’

‘We went to a ball at the casino. We danced for hours until they served a seafood banquet. Something I ate gave me food poisoning. You took me home, then went out to an all-night chemist to get me some medication. Harry told me a stolen car slammed into you at an intersection—a drunken driver running a red light.’

He shook his head slightly and winced. ‘I don’t remember any of that.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Food poisoning...last night... You must feel wretched, Lucy.’

Her heart turned over. Here he was, caring about her when he was all broken up and obviously hurting.

‘I’ll live,’ she said dismissively. ‘I had to see you, be with you, Michael. Ellie called me with the news and I was frightened you might not make it through.’ She smiled to lighten up the situation. ‘I was going to hang on to you like grim death until you did.’

‘That’s my girl,’ he said with a ghost of a smile.

It was so blissful to hear him say that, as though nothing had changed between them.

Harry returned with the doctor and Lucy moved out of the way of any medical checking that had to be done, standing at the end of the bed and holding the foot railing for support. She did feel wretched. A glance at her watch told her she’d actually slept with her head on Michael’s bed for over three hours, which should have helped, yet her legs were still weak and shaky.

The doctor went through a schedule of procedures, explaining what would be done and when. He answered questions, then administered an injection of morphine before he left.

Michael turned his attention to her. ‘You must go home and rest, Lucy. You need recovery time from food poisoning, and I’ll probably be out of it for most of today and tomorrow.’ He shifted his gaze to his brother. ‘Make her go, Harry.’

‘I will,’ he promised.

She didn’t want to, but saw the sense in it. ‘I’ll go,’ she said, moving around to his side to take his hand again, pressing it with fervent caring. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow evening. I hope the operation goes well, Michael.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Hip operations are run-of-the-mill stuff these days.’

She leaned over and kissed his lips very softly. ‘I’ll be thinking of you every minute,’ she murmured.

Harry accompanied her out of the hospital and put her in a taxi. ‘Take care of yourself, Lucy,’ he said kindly. ‘I think my brother will need you in the difficult days to come.’

It was nice that he thought she was an important part of Michael’s life. Maybe she still could be if Michael never remembered questioning her about past sexual partners. Initially he had dismissed the Jason Lester encounter. It was the run-in with her most recent ex last night that had reignited the issue in his mind. If that was now wiped out... Lucy couldn’t help hoping everything would be right between them.

She desperately wanted to hold on to her prince.

She couldn’t bear it if he turned into a frog.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

F
OR
M
ICHAEL
IT
was a hell of a week. The broken arm was a nuisance because he couldn’t use it. The broken ribs gave him pain with every movement, and he had to move. The nurses got him out of bed every day after the hip operation, walking up and down a corridor to ensure his muscles kept working around the piece of titanium that had been inserted.

On top of that was his frustration at having to leave his business to Harry, who was making a good fist of handling the franchises under his instructions, but didn’t have the sense of creativity needed to take any new initiatives. Which wasn’t really a problem. That could wait for Michael’s return. He simply wasn’t used to not controlling everything himself. It would have been easier for Harry if Elizabeth had been on hand—the perfect PA—but she was stepping in for him on the island while he was tied up here.

The accident couldn’t have come at a worse time, incapacitating Michael when he had no one in the office he trusted to take over in any capacity whatsoever. Andrew Cook was next to useless, needing someone to tell him everything, and there hadn’t been time to find a competent replacement for Elizabeth.

The only bright spot in his current life was Lucy.

He was intensely grateful she had decided to overlook his frog blunder at the ball, calling into question her sexual experience. He still didn’t remember the car accident, but memories of everything preceding it had come swimming back to him after the hip operation.

He’d actually been afraid she wouldn’t visit him again, since he wasn’t about to die, but she had turned up on Monday evening and every evening since, chatting to him in her wonderfully bubbly fashion, massaging his feet, giving him her beautiful smile, not at all concerned that he looked like Frankenstein’s monster.

Michael had been moved to a private room with his own television to make time pass less tediously. He had no complaints about the care given to him from the medical staff. The physiotherapist was particularly good. His friends dropped in to see him, bringing him gifts to keep him in reasonably good cheer. Harry kept him informed of business issues and was always good company. But it was Lucy who brought sunshine into his room. She made him feel lucky to be alive and very lucky to have her in his life.

Today he was glad it was Saturday, not a workday for her, and she’d promised to visit him this morning. While he waited for her he struggled with the newspaper he’d asked to be delivered to him. It was the
Sydney Morning Herald
and its pages were large. Having the use of only one arm, handling them was awkward, and most of them slid off the bed onto the floor as he tried to separate out the financial section, which he liked to read each week.

He finally managed it, and having found an article that interested him, he was frustrated again by his vision blurring over the little print. Probably an after-effect of the concussion, he reasoned. The swelling had gone down and his eyes were back to normal, but this was obviously yet another thing he would have to wait out.

He was darkly brooding over the frustrating aspects of his situation when Lucy walked in, all bright and beautiful, instantly lifting his spirits. She’d put up her hair in a kind of tousled topknot, and her eyes were sparkling, her dimples flashing, her smile totally enchanting. She was wearing purple jeans teamed with a purple-lime-and-white top in a wildly floral print, long dangly purple-and-lime earrings and a set of matching bangles.

He smiled. ‘You look fantastic, Lucy!’

She laughed. ‘I like dressing up. It’s fun.’

Fun like a carnival full of happy surprises, he thought.

She’d brought him a surprise, too, holding out to him a perfect yellow rose in a long-stemmed glass vase.

‘Look! Isn’t it beautiful, Michael? I was out at the cemetery yesterday and the old man who planted a Pal Joey rose on his wife’s grave was there. He cut this off for me, but it wasn’t quite in full bloom so I waited until today to bring it to you.’ She placed the vase on his bedside table. ‘Just the glorious scent of it will take away the hospital antiseptic smell and make you feel better.’

‘I’m sure it will. Thank you, Lucy.’

‘My pleasure.’

She leaned over and kissed him. Desire for her had already kicked in and he wished he could crush her to him, but his ribs were still a problem, so he had to suffer her moving away to pull up a chair.

‘Wow! You’ve made a mess of this newspaper,’ she said, bending over to shuffle the dropped pages into a manageable bundle.

It reminded him of the article he’d wanted to read, which was still on his bed, and he needed a distraction from the rush of hot blood Lucy stirred with her sexy derriere bobbing around. ‘Just leave them in a pile and sit down, Lucy. There’s something I want you to read to me. The little print has me defeated at the moment. My vision keeps blurring. It’s an article in this financial section.’ He picked it up and held it out to her.

She took it somewhat gingerly and sat down, frowning at the opened page. ‘The financial section,’ she repeated slowly, sounding troubled. She looked up with a quick, appealing smile. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if Harry read it to you? Then you could discuss whatever’s in it together. I’m simply not into that scene, Michael.’

‘Harry has gone over to the island with the guy who’s to take over the job of manager as soon as Elizabeth can train him into the job. I don’t expect him back until tomorrow. Besides, I don’t want to discuss it,’ he argued. ‘I simply want to know what it says. It’s been annoying me, not being able to read it. It will only take five minutes, Lucy. Please?’

The smile was gone. She gave him an anguished look. ‘I’d really rather not.’

‘Why not?’

Surely it was only a small favour to ask. Why put it off? Why was it a problem to her? She’d lowered her lashes to hide the strange anguish he’d seen, and her body was tensing up as though readying itself to spring from the chair. All this was incomprehensible to him.

‘Lucy?’ he pressed, needing to have her odd reaction cleared up.

She slowly set the section of newspaper he’d given her on the bed, drawing her hands back to pick at each other nervously in her lap. She drew in a deep breath, then met his gaze squarely as though facing a feared inquisitor.

‘I can’t, Michael,’ she said flatly.

Still it made no sense to him. ‘What do you mean...you
can’t?
’

Her chin lifted slightly. ‘I was born with dyslexia. I’ve always had difficulty with reading and writing.’

Dyslexia...

He didn’t know much about it, only that letters in words got jumbled up to people who had that disability.

Lucy gave a wry little shrug. ‘I can usually wing my way through most situations.’ Her eyes were bleak with vulnerability as she added, ‘But I’ve been sacked from jobs because of it and dumped from relationships because of it. I know I’m no match for you, Michael. I just wanted to have you love me for a little while.’ Tears glittered. ‘And you have, quite beautifully.’

It sounded perilously close to a goodbye speech to Michael. ‘Now hold on a moment!’ He cut in fast and hard. ‘This isn’t the end for us. I won’t have it, Lucy. You’re my girl, regardless. What I want is for you to tell me about your dyslexia. Share it with me. You don’t have to hide it from me.’

She bit her lips. Her head drooped. Her eyelashes worked overtime, trying to blink away the tears. Her distress was heart-wrenching. She was such a beautiful person, and clearly this disability had been a blight on her life that she’d kept dodging and fighting, determined to make the most of who she was and what she could be. That took amazing strength of character, in Michael’s opinion, and he admired her for it. To keep picking herself up and moving on from where she wasn’t wanted, and find joy in something else...that was something very few people could do.

As he waited for Lucy to compose herself, his mind raced back over the past few weeks, picking up clues he’d missed. The mistake about chilli crab being on the menu that first day; her habit of choosing specials that were verbally listed by a waiter, when they were dining out, or observing what other people were eating and asking for the same; her panic at the idea of taking on Elizabeth’s job as his PA, with Ellie staunchly supporting her, protecting her younger sister from being embarrassed by her disability.

He understood so much more about Lucy now: why she had been the one to drop out of school to nurse her mother, why she’d taken up hands-on jobs rather than desk ones, why few of them lasted very long, why advancement in any kind of serious career would be unlikely for her. The bookwork would be too hard to manage. She’d done what she could, probably relying a lot on Elizabeth’s support.

Her anchor...

No matter what happened Lucy would always have her sister, who could be counted on to never waver in her love and support. Michael could see Elizabeth in that role.

He recalled Sarah Pickard’s reading of Lucy, and realised now how accurate it was. Being ditzy was a good cover for feeling inadequate, she’d said, while he’d scoffed at the idea of Lucy feeling inadequate about anything. But the dyslexia did make her feel that way, which was why she hid it. Sarah had also been spot on about there being not much self-esteem in Lucy. How could there be if people kept putting her down because of her disability?

‘Lucy, I think you’re marvellous,’ he said softly, wanting her to feel good about herself.

Her lashes flicked up and her tear-washed eyes searched his for truth.

‘I do,’ he asserted more strongly, holding her gaze with steady conviction. ‘No matter how many people have cast you adrift because of your dyslexia, you haven’t retreated from the world. You keep on setting out on another path and giving it your best. That drive to keep going, to keep finding joy in the world...you
are
marvellous, Lucy.’

‘But...’ she frowned at him, a wary uncertainty in her eyes ‘...you must see I’m defective, too.’

‘Who isn’t in one area or another?’ he quickly answered, thinking
defective
was a particularly nasty word to be attached to Lucy. ‘Harry says I have tunnel vision, not seeing anything except what’s directly in front of me. You’re in front of me, Lucy, and I like what I see.’ Michael reached out to her. ‘Give me your hand.’

Slowly, she lifted one hand and put it in his. He squeezed it reassuringly. ‘I don’t care if you can’t read or write. I like having you with me. Now smile for me again.’

It was a wobbly smile, but at least there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes. ‘I can read and write, Michael. It’s just very slow and painstaking. I’m much better at memorising things. That’s how I got my driver’s licence. Ellie drilled me until I knew all the answers off by heart and could recognise the questions. She’s always been great like that, giving me help when I needed it. Though I don’t like asking too much of her. I try to get along by myself.’

‘You do very well by yourself,’ Michael said admiringly. ‘I would never have guessed you had any disability.’

She made a wry grimace. ‘It’s not something I want people to know. I’d rather be seen as normal.’

‘You’re way above normal, Lucy. You’re very special.’

The smile came back. ‘My mother used to say that. She used to say my smile was worth a thousand words.’

‘She was right,’ Michael assured her.

‘It doesn’t always help, though. The guy I was with before you—the control freak—used to make lists of things he wanted me to do. His handwriting was too hard to work out, so I just ignored the lists and did whatever I wanted. He got really angry about it and called me an airhead.’

‘So you walked out on him.’

‘Yes. I guess I could have explained, told him about the dyslexia, but I don’t like abusive people. My father was very abusive to my mother.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t want that in my life.’

Michael nodded. ‘Quite right! It’s not acceptable.’

She beamed a brilliant smile at him and there was sunshine back in the room.

Knowing what he now knew, he should have decked that guy in the men’s room for calling Lucy an airhead, though violence wasn’t acceptable, either. Instead of standing up for her, he’d been distracted by the sexual angle, which had led him into frog territory. Never again, he silently vowed. No man would like losing Lucy, and bruised egos undoubtedly prompted trying to damage her in the eyes of any other man she favoured.

Michael wondered how much abuse she had suffered because of her dyslexia. ‘Your school years must have been hard, Lucy,’ he said sympathetically, thinking of teachers who might not have spotted her disability for quite a while, and other kids calling her stupid.

‘Yes and no. I was good at sports, which helped, winning me some approval for what I could do, and I did make friends who stuck by me. But schoolwork was a nightmare and I copped some bullying, which was fairly nasty. I was an easy target for those who liked to feel superior.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he urged, wanting her to unload all she had kept inside and be free of it with him.

* * *

Lucy could hardly believe that Michael was so accepting of her disability, not seeming to see any wrong in her at all. He kept encouraging her to talk about it, the problems it had caused her, how she had skirted around a lot of them. She made fun of some of the situations, and it was strangely exhilarating to laugh together about them. Other more distressing experiences drew nothing but sympathy from him, even admiration at how well she’d survived them, not letting them destroy her spirit to find pleasures to enjoy.

They talked all day, and when Lucy finally left Michael, she was almost on a giddy high from sheer happiness. The sense of freedom from having to keep her dyslexia hidden from him was so exhilarating she wanted to dance and whirl around and clap her hands.

Michael liked her as she was.

He might even love her as she was.

And he was very definitely a prince.