Just for a Night (7 page)

T
HE
first thing Marina saw when James directed her towards Rebecca's bed in the children's ward was not the small child propped up against a mountain of pillows, but the young woman sitting on the side of the bed with a book in her hands.

She was the most beautiful girl Marina had ever seen. Not just attractive. Not just pretty. Beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.

Straight, shoulder-length blonde hair. Skin like porcelain. A perfect profile. Full soft lips. A slender, fragile-looking body.

Marina knew at once who she was.

The girl looked up at their approach, and her eyes matched the rest of her. Large hazel eyes, thickly lashed and immediately smiling at James—as was her lovely coral-glossed mouth.

But it was the child in the bed who spoke first, the bald-headed, deathly pale, unbelievably thin child, whose big green eyes looked too large for her face.

‘Uncle James!' Rebecca exclaimed, excitement bringing some colour to her hollow cheeks. ‘Look, it's Uncle James, Tiffany. And he's brought my Marina with him!'

Marina was startled but touched by this term of endearment. And yet it was true, wasn't it? She
was
Rebecca's Marina. They were going to become bonded as few people could be. Her own flesh and blood was going to save this brave little girl's life. She just knew it would!

Marina came forward and held out her hands to the child, who took them straight away, without hesitation. Out of the corner of her eye, Marina was aware of the exquisitely lovely Lady Tiffany standing and giving James a peck on the cheek. They also began whispering to each other. She steadfastly ignored the jab of jealousy and gave all her attention to Rebecca, sitting down and giving her a big hug.

‘Oh, Uncle James!' Rebecca cried afterwards. ‘She's so pretty. And she has hair the same colour as mine! When I have hair, that is,' she added, a little self-consciously.

‘You'll have hair again, my pet,' Marina said softly, and took the child's hands again. ‘In no time at all, you're going to be feeling
so
well.'

‘Yes, I know. Uncle James rang me this morning and he said we're going to do it tomorrow. I can't wait!'

‘Neither can I.'

‘The doctors said it won't hurt. Of course I'll be fully asleep, but you have a choice. You can have a general anaethestic, if you like, or just a local. I think you should have a general,' she advised in all seriousness. ‘Then you won't have to worry whether it hurts or not. You see, doctors
always
say things won't hurt, but mostly they do a bit.'

Marina's heart twisted at this seven-year-old trying
to reassure
her
, the adult. She was like a little adult herself. But that was what pain and sickness did to one. It made you old before your time.

She'd seen it before in other children, when she'd gone to the hospital to visit her mother and stopped in sometimes at the children's cancer ward. Her heart had just wept for the poor, brave little darlings who'd seen more misery in their short lives than most people had in a lifetime.

‘I think I'll be a coward and have a general,' she confided quietly. ‘I'm not brave like you.'

Rebecca giggled. ‘Did you hear that, Uncle James? Marina thinks
I'm
brave. Oh, that's so funny. I'm not at all brave. I cry all the time when they put those horrid needles in me. I
hate
needles,' she whispered to her new friend and confidante.

‘Well, heavens to Betsy, of course you do!' Marina said indignantly. ‘What self-respecting girl would
like
needles. Yuk! I shudder just to think of them.'

Rebecca crowed with laughter. ‘Oh, but you
are
funny. And you talk funny, too,' she said, obviously referring to Marina's accent—though it wasn't as broad as most, due to her elocution lessons. Marina had always thought she sounded rather British. Clearly she didn't.

‘But I like it,' Rebecca announced. ‘And I like you too. She's smashing, isn't she, Uncle James?'

The arrival of a nurse wanting to do a routine check of Rebecca's vital signs gave James the perfect excuse not to answer. Unfortunately it also meant Marina had to finally face the girl he was to marry.

Gathering herself, she stood and turned, flinching at the sight of James's arm around Lady Tiffany's slender waist.

On second sight the girl was even more lovely. She was wearing cream cotton trousers with a cream and fawn striped vest-style top; the simple outfit screamed the sort of style money could not necessarily buy. The girl had class and elegance which had been bred into her. It was inherent, as was the way she held herself, so upright, and with a proud little tilt of her perfect little nose.

She was, for want of a better word, a lady.

‘I'm so glad I had the opportunity to meet you,' the lady herself said, after James had introduced them. ‘I think it's marvellous what you're doing. Rebecca is such a darling. I only wish I could be here for her tomorrow, but I have to fly to Italy this afternoon. In fact, I must be going shortly, James.

‘Now don't go saying you'll come with me to the airport. That's silly. You stay here and visit with Rebecca. I've ordered a taxi. I only dropped in for a while on my way. I have to go to Rome to be in the wedding party of one of my cousins,' she explained to Marina with the sweetest of smiles.

Marina's own smile felt plastic. Why couldn't she have been a bitch? An upper-class snob with a snooty attitude instead of this softly spoken and obviously very
nice
girl.

‘I don't really want to go, but I'm obliged. Worse, I'm having to go several days before the actual wedding to have my bridesmaid dress properly fitted. It's
not even a nice dress,' she added laughingly. ‘And it's purple! Can you imagine me in purple?'

‘You'd look lovely in anything, Tiffany,' James complimented her.

Tiffany gave him such an adoring look Marina wanted to cry. This girl not only loved him, she was
besotted
by him. A quick glance at James's face showed more than mere affection for the girl in return. His gaze was meltingly indulgent and definitely loving.

They looked splendid standing there as a couple, she as fair and delicate as he was dark and strong. Marina could see why Henry was so protective of the relationship. Lady Tiffany would make a perfect Countess, the perfect partner for the best Earl of Winterborne in a hundred years.

‘I agree,' Marina said quickly, to cover her dismay. ‘With your hair and complexion, any colour would suit you. I would be a disaster in purple. Scarlet doesn't do much for me, either.'

Lady Tiffany laughed softly, and Marina tried not to pull a face. But there was just so much perfection she could take. Why couldn't the infernal girl have had yellow incisors, or molars full of metal, or an overbite? Why did her laugh have to show two flawless rows of immaculate pearly whites?

Marina herself had had to suffer years of braces to correct her own dental shortcomings.

Physical perfection in James she could admire and lust after. But not in this exquisite creature who was going to become his wife, but whom Prince Charming
had not yet acquainted with his undoubtedly virile flesh.

Why
was
that? Marina puzzled all of a sudden, and with a vehemence alien to her normally pragmatic personality.

Surely she couldn't still be a
virgin
? Not in this day and age, not at nearly twenty-one and certainly not looking like
that
!

But the more Marina stared into those big hazel eyes the more she became convinced that Lady Tiffany was totally untouched by male hands.

Totally!

There was an unknowing innocence in her face, and in those eyes. The glances she sent James contained nothing of naked desire and everything of a blind and almost adolescent hero-worship. That peck she'd given him on the cheek bespoke the affection more of a sister than a lover.

What in God's name was James waiting for? For them to be officially engaged? Surely he didn't expect to hold out till his wedding night! That was archaic, and totally unnatural when two healthy young people were in love. He should be making love to her all the time. Good grief, if
she
were engaged to him then she would not—

Marina caught herself up short.

But you're not engaged to him, Marina,
that awful voice piped up.
Whether Tiffany is a virgin or not is none of your business. The same applies to the current status of His Lordship's sex life. Or are you thinking of taking up the slack, so to speak? Of giving the poor
dear chap some well-needed comfort while the ice-princess swans off to Italy, naively leaving her intended behind in the clutches of the evil Aussie seductress?

‘Look, Uncle James!' Rebecca said delightedly. ‘Marina's daydreaming, just like me!'

Marina pulled herself quickly together and walked over to the bed again. ‘Nothing wrong with daydreaming. I have a lot of fun in my daydreams.'

‘So do I,' Rebecca replied happily. ‘When I daydream, I'm all grown up and beautiful, with hair just like yours. I'm never ever sick. And I'm married to a wonderful man like my uncle James and I have lots and lots of children. I don't like being an only child,' she finished, her lips pouting.

Marina's heart turned over at the child's dream, which rather echoed her own. What she would not give to be in Lady Tiffany's shoes! ‘Being an only child has
some
good points,' Marina said kindly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘For one thing it develops your imagination and your self-sufficiency.'

‘What's self-suff…suffish…' Rebecca pursed her lips in frustration. ‘What you said!'

Marina smiled. ‘It means being able to do things all by yourself. It means being strong.'

‘Uncle James says I'm strong.'

‘He also says you talk too much,' James intervened. ‘Now say goodbye to Tiffany. She has to go now.'

‘Oh, does she have to?' the child wailed, for once sounding like a seven-year-old. ‘She hasn't finished reading me the story about the princess.'

‘I'll finish reading your story,' Marina offered. ‘I'm not going anywhere. I'm sleeping here tonight.'

‘Oh, goodie! You can go now, Tiffany.'

Lady Tiffany laughed good-naturedly. ‘Such is the loyalty of the Winterbornes. But I'll bring you back a present from Italy anyway.'

‘And will this Winterborne get a present too, when you come back?' James asked, giving his intended a darkly brooding look. Or so it seemed to Marina.

But the girl just laughed, seemingly unaware of the sudden sexual tension emanating from the man whose arm was around her.

‘What could I possibly buy
you
, James?' she said. ‘You have everything you could possibly want in that apartment of yours.'

‘Not everything one wants can be bought, Tiffany,' he said.

She gave him a totally blank look.

‘You'd better get going,' James said, though it sounded as though the words came through gritted teeth.

‘Yes, I'd better. I'll be back next Monday. The morning flight.'

‘I'll be there,' he said, with a hint of a sigh which perhaps only Marina heard.

Tiffany certainly seemed oblivious of her intended's strained state.

‘You spoil me,' she said, and pecked him on the cheek again before turning to Marina. ‘Goodbye,' she said with sweet politeness. ‘I dare say I won't be seeing you again, which is a shame. I would have loved
to find out all about you, and life back in Australia. It seems such an exciting country, and so different from England. I'd love to go there one day.'

‘Then I'm sure you will,' Marina said, wishing with all her heart that she didn't like this girl so much. Then she wouldn't have to feel so guilty about the dark desires which still lurked in that treacherous mind of hers, ready and waiting to find a chink in her own armour. It was particularly perturbing that she could not wait for Tiffany to leave and fly away.

‘Goodbye for now, poppet,' Tiffany directed at Rebecca. ‘And good luck for tomorrow.'

‘Bye, Tiffany,' Rebecca chirped back.

‘Goodbye,' Marina said, guilt sending her forward to give the girl a kiss on the cheek. But when she glanced over her shoulder at James he stared at her, and his eyes carried a black frustration.

‘When are you going to finish reading my story, Marina?' Rebecca asked as soon as Tiffany was gone.

‘Right now, if you like.' And she picked up the book and sat down.

‘Don't wear Marina out too much, sweetie,' James warned. ‘Or yourself, for that matter. The doctors want you both bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.'

Tomorrow, Marina thought with the beginnings of a nervous lump in her stomach. She wasn't really worried about anything hurting. But she did hope it would all go well. The last thing she wanted was to go home with a broken heart
and
a failed mission.

T
HE
bone marrow transplant went well. More than well. It went perfectly.

Marina was discharged the morning after the procedure, with the doctors glowing in their optimism for Rebecca.

Although it was too early for their little patient to show signs of rejection, the specialists were unanimous in their opinion that she had the very best chance of a complete remission, since Marina was the best donor match that could be found outside of a brother or a sister.

Marina had learned on the evening she'd been admitted to the hospital just how lucky they had been to find a match for Rebecca outside of a relative, since her blood type was not a common one.

Marina had been surprised to learn that even if Rebecca had had a brother or a sister their bone marrow would not necessarily have been compatible. There was only a one in four chance of a perfect match between siblings. Even a twin was no good, because a twin, in fact, was actually
too
perfect a match. Only by having a register with millions of names on it could it be hoped to find a match outside of the family circle.

Having had all this explained, Marina had been
asked permission for the media to be brought in and a story told about their amazing match. That way, many thousands of others might be inspired to do what Marina had done.

She'd asked James about it, and while he hadn't been thrilled with the idea, and had vetoed any cameras being shoved in Rebecca's face, Marina
had
been interviewed and a story run on the news the following day and evening.

But when several news crews were waiting outside James's apartment when he brought Marina home from the hospital on the Wednesday morning, Marina saw the Earl of Winterborne in action, with all his arrogant, autocratic anger.

Henry would have blushed at his language, but Marina found herself on
his
side, totally. She had no time for the media when they started invading people's privacy, when they crossed lines which had been clearly set out for them. Marina had given permission for
one
interview and one interview only. If they were going to start hounding her she would have to jump on an even earlier plane than Sunday's.

Which was exactly what she told James after he'd routed the rabble and bundled her into the safety of his apartment.

‘You will do no such thing!' he snapped.

Anger became him, she decided, looking at his flashing blue eyes and furiously stubborn jawline. The suit he was wearing became him too. It was pale grey and a silk blend, teamed with a crisp white business shirt and a blue-striped tie the same colours as his
eyes, which were light blue in the centre rimmed by a darker navy.

Or so she'd found out after staring into them at length.

Every time they met anew now, they stared at each other, as though the time apart had been agony. Despite the distraction of her hospital stay and the media problem, Marina found her feelings for James were escalating rather than abating. And becoming intensely physical once more. Any admiration or respect for James as a person was being buried underneath an avalanche of desire for him as a man. She didn't know how much she could stand before the compulsion to touch him would overwhelm her.

He seemed under similar stress. During his several visits to the hospital he'd made a point of not getting too close to her, especially when she'd been in her nightwear. There had been no touching of any kind, no goodbye pecks, just an unsettling series of smouldering stares. Unfortunately, during the incident with the media outside, he'd had to take hold of her waist to shepherd her through the small crowd of aggressive journalists and photographers. His arms around her had rattled both her composure and his.

‘You will stay the full week,' he ordered angrily. ‘And you will let me take you to the theatre!'

‘I will not,' she refused, sounding coolly firm even while her heart was racing.

They were standing in the foyer, facing each other at the base of the stairs.

‘If you do not let me take you to the theatre,' he ground out, ‘I will kiss you here and now.'

She just stared at him, afraid that he might, terrified that he wouldn't. For the threat, once voiced, conjured up the threatened kiss in her head. It would be hard and hungry. Not the sort of kiss she would normally like. But she would like such a kiss from him. She would like it much too much.

‘Did you hear me, Marina?'

She clenched her jaw hard and prayed for salvation. ‘I did, My Lord.'

He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her hard against him, scowling down into her instantly wide-eyed face.

‘James,' he bit out. ‘You will call me James or, by God, I will do more than kiss you.'

‘James,' she whispered in a raw, shaking voice.

His face twisted as he fought the urge to do it anyway, to ravage her mouth
and
her body.

She saw the battle in his eyes and should have helped him out. But how could she when his body was pressed close to hers? When his mouth was a mere breath away from closing over hers and sending her to the hell she was beginning to ache for?

The sound of footsteps on the staircase sent them springing apart, James looking for all the world like a naughty schoolboy caught with his trousers down.

Which they might have been shortly,
that ugly voice sneered.

Marina only just managed not to laugh hysterically. This was starting to feel like an Edwardian farce. But
was
she
the heroine or the bitch? And was James the hero or the dastardly villain?

‘Disgraceful,' Henry was muttering as he plodded down the last few stairs. ‘Simply disgraceful!'

For a moment Marina thought he was talking about them.

‘I tried to get rid of them earlier, My Lord,' he said apologetically to James, ‘but they simply took no notice of me.' He turned to give Marina a small smile of greeting. ‘And how are you feeling, Miss Marina? His Lordship told me everything went splendidly at the hospital.'

‘The doctors are very optimistic, Henry. And I feel quite well, except for a tiny throbbing in my right hip. Nothing that some aspirin and a cup of your lovely brewed tea won't cure.'

‘I will leave you in Henry's capable hands, then, Marina,' James said abruptly. ‘William is waiting outside to take me on to the bank. I will get my secretary to make a booking for us on Friday evening for a show. Your hip should be better by then. Would you like to see a play or a musical?'

To argue at this point would be to tell Henry too much. ‘A play would be lovely,' she said levelly.

He nodded and was gone in a flash, leaving Marina to stare longingly after him for a moment. She turned to find Henry watching her with those all-seeing grey eyes of his. Suddenly she saw red.

‘Don't start, Henry,' she said rather sharply. ‘And do stop worrying. I'll be gone soon. Then Your precious Lordship will be out of danger.'

She went to brush past the valet, but he stayed her with a soft but firm hand on her shoulder. Her eyes blurred slightly as she looked up at him.

‘It's not just His Lordship I worry about,' he said gently. ‘I would hate to see a lady as fine and lovely as yourself hurt in any way. His Lordship is a good man, but, as he said himself the other day, he is only mortal. And any mortal man could not help but find you desirable, Miss Marina.'

Marina might have coped with Henry's reproach. Or even some more of his dire warnings. But not his sympathy and kindness. ‘Oh,' she cried softly, her hands fluttering up in a futile effort to stop the tears from flowing. ‘Oh, Henry!' And she threw her weeping self against his broad but stiffly held chest.

For a second he froze, but then his arms went round her. Surprisingly strong yet gentle arms. ‘There, there, Miss Marina,' he soothed. ‘It's not as bad as that. Surely?'

‘Yes, it is,' she sobbed. ‘I love him, Henry. I love him so much.'

He froze. ‘Don't say that, Miss Marina. Don't even
think
it.'

‘I can't help thinking it. It's all I think about.'

‘And you're all
he
thinks about lately, I'll warrant,' Henry said drily. ‘But it's not love which spurs
his
mind, child. It's those blasted Winterborne hormones.'

‘But I have hormones
too
,' Marina moaned.

‘Miss Marina!'

Henry immediately put her aside, as though he was
in imminent danger of contamination after this appalling confession.

Marina blinked her astonishment—till she realised that men like Henry were not of the modern world. They were an anachronism. They actually believed sex was a male prerogative. A male flaw, perhaps, to be tolerated and hopefully controlled.

‘I'm sorry to shock you, Henry,' Marina said, ‘but it's not just James who thinks about sex. You might be surprised to learn that there are a lot of ladies these days who think about sex! So please, for pity's sake, don't worry so much about James taking me to the theatre. Or taking me anywhere in public. It's infinitely safer than our being in this apartment together, even if we do sleep on different floors and have you here as watchdog.'

Henry's spine straightened and his chest puffed up with indignation. ‘I am no spy!' he protested.

‘No, not a spy. More of an interfering guardian angel. Don't take offence, Henry. I do appreciate your good intentions. And I fully understand the predicament I find myself in.

‘If it helps to put your mind at rest, I met Lady Tiffany at the hospital on Monday and I think she is one of the loveliest and nicest girls I have ever met. I would never deliberately do anything to hurt her, even if I don't think she's the right girl for James. She is far too young, far too naive, and far too sweet. James will walk all over her, which means he'll be bored to tears in no time flat.'

Henry was frowning, as though some of what she
was saying made sense, even if such thoughts had never occurred to him before. ‘You don't think they'll be happy together?' he asked worriedly.

‘No, I don't. They seem the perfect romantic pair on the surface, and they do look good together. But will it work in the bedroom, Henry? I ask you that. A man like James will not be satisfied with any girl who might be daunted—or totally dominated—by his Winterborne hormones.

‘In the past, wives of this ilk might have tolerated their husbands dallying elsewhere, but not nowadays. Under the circumstances, I suggest you worry over the next woman to spark your esteemed boss's carnal desires, and not me.
I
won't be any danger to his marriage from Australia, will I? Even if I
have
decided not to go through with my own marriage, which would be a similar disaster!'

Wrenching off her engagement ring and clenching it in a tight fist, Marina marched off up the stairs, leaving a frowning Henry behind. She kept her chin up, but her heart had sunk to an all-time low. For, despite her bold and impassioned speech, she knew Henry was right about the most important factor. James didn't love her. He just wanted her.

Come next week, he probably wouldn't give her another thought ever again. He would go on to marry Lady Tiffany, and if they weren't happy then it would have nothing to do with a certain spinsterish teacher living out her days in Sydney.