Unbound (23 page)

“And how did it happen?” he asks.

“The chauffeur lost control of the car. A car overtook them and cut them off on the way back from the airport. He drove into the barrier. Sarah and Hastings were both injured. They’ve taken …” Jonathan raises his hand and speaks into the cell. “Steven, I need the limousine right away. Right now,” he orders and wants to end the conversation immediately. But Steven obviously has something more to tell him, because he pauses, presses the cell to his ear again, and listens. He frowns, clearly tense, and suddenly looks at me—then he thanks Steven briefly and repeats that he needs to come right away, before hanging up. He puts the phone into his shirt pocket and walks back over to us. “They’ve taken them both to King Edward VII hospital,” he says, finishing the sentence he started before the phone call.

“And your father?” I ask. “Was he hurt, too?”

Jonathan stops and stares at me. “He was well enough to call me,” he says, and you can clearly hear the anger in his voice. “So presumably he wasn’t.”

He almost sounds as though he blames for father for this.

“Hunter, the accident wasn’t his fault.” Alexander is looking at Jonathan in a strangely intense way. “There was nothing he could do about it.”

Jonathan just snorts and takes long strides toward the door. Alexander follows him and I instinctively reach for my purse, which is still on the side table, about to follow the two of them. But then I stop, unsure of what to do. Jonathan said I could come with him to meet Sarah, and I want to be with him, especially now—but this is an unexpected, completely new development, and I’m afraid that I’ll be in the way or that I’ll just be a burden to him.

Jonathan notices I’m hanging back and turns around. He seems to consider for a moment, and then he stretches his hand out like a summons, gesturing for me to come join him.

“Come on. Quickly.”

He waits till I reach him and then shoves me through the door in front of him.

Catherine Shepard is sitting at her desk and looking at me with an odd mixture of hostility and curiosity, which reminds me of what just happened in the office. I’m finding it hard to process my rollercoaster of emotions, from the incredibly hot sex with Jonathan to the shock of his sister’s accident. I suddenly ask myself what she suspects is going on between me and Jonathan and what the full implications of that are. But I don’t have time to think about it now, because Jonathan is urging us forward. At least one thing is clear, he really does want me to come with them.

In the elevator, it’s obvious how nervous they both are.

“Didn’t your father tell you anything about your sister’s injuries?” I ask.

Jonathan takes a deep breath, as if mentally pulling himself together before answering. “He said that her leg got trapped, and that she lost a lot of blood. But she was conscious.”

“That doesn’t sound life threatening,” I say, to try to calm him, but I can see that I’m not doing a very good job of it.

“King Edward VII’s Hospital has an excellent reputation,” Alexander says. He seems just as tense as Jonathan, but, unlike his partner, he clearly prefers to relieve his stress by talking. He explains that it’s a private clinic in Marylebone, one of the best places for medical treatment in London, and that Prince Philip himself was once treated there. “They will certainly do everything they can for Sarah,” he says, and it sounds like he’s reciting a good luck charm.

As soon as the elevator doors open, the two men charge through the lobby and I have trouble keeping up with them. The limousine is already waiting outside, and shortly afterwards we are racing through the city. Jonathan tries to call his father on his cell again, but he only gets through to voicemail, which visibly angers him. Then he tries the clinic, but despite heated discussions with the receptionist, the only thing he’s able to find out is that a Sarah Huntington was admitted and is currently undergoing treatment, nothing else.

“Jesus Christ.” Jonathan swears loudly as he hangs up, which shows more clearly than anything else just how shaken up he is.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” I say, but when Jonathan looks at me, I realize that it could be bad. Very bad. It’s the first time I’ve seen naked fear in his eyes.

My heart aches at the sight and I really want to touch him to comfort him, but I don’t dare to because Alexander is sitting opposite us. He’s lost in his own thoughts and is spending a lot of time looking out of the window. But every now and then he examines Jonathan and me with a pensive expression on his face. Besides, I’m not sure if Jonathan would even want me to comfort him anyway. He seems extremely unapproachable and withdrawn, staring into space.

We don’t talk again until we reach the clinic on Beaumont Street. It’s a large but surprisingly plain building several stories high with a white plinth and numerous rows of windows in the red brick wall that blends seamlessly in with the rest of the street. It actually almost looks like a hotel, with a flagpole over an entrance lined with box trees.

Entering the building, I don’t feel at all the way I usually do in hospitals, because everything here looks as if it belonged in a luxurious townhouse. Behind the counter where the receptionist is sitting there’s a large old fireplace built into the wall—which is obviously no longer in use. The stained glass windows above it immediately remind me of the inside of a church. They don’t show us into a cold waiting area, but rather into the “library,” a very tastefully appointed room with comfortable red sofas and polished wood cabinets. And we don’t have to wait long either, as a female doctor arrives almost immediately. She has brown hair, interspersed with a few gray strands. The name badge on her white coat says Dr. Mary Joncus, and I guess she must be in her mid-fifties.

“How’s my sister?” Jonathan asks directly, after she’s greeted everyone.

“She has a broken leg and a few bruises and she’s also lost a lot of blood from a cut,” the doctor informs him. “We were able to stabilise her very quickly, and luckily we only needed to carry out a minor operation to set her leg. She’s currently under observation in intensive care.”

“In intensive care?” Jonathan immediately turns paler.

“Yes, but it’s just routine procedure. Under the circumstances, she’s doing well.”

Jonathan runs his hand through his hair and breathes an audible sigh of relief. Alexander looks as though someone had just taken more than one huge weight off his shoulders and for a moment, even though we haven’t met, I envy Sarah Huntington for having two such impressive men who are clearly so concerned about her.

“And what about Hastings—I mean, Mr. Hastings? My father’s chauffeur?” Jonathan enquires.

“He has a scapular contusion where the seat belt pulled against his body and a suspected concussion. He will also need to stay here overnight for observation, but so far he’s doing well.”

“And Lord Lockwood?”

Dr. Joncus looks a little confused because it’s Alexander, not Jonathan, who asked that question, but she answers just as calmly and professionally as before.

“He’s suffered some shock, but he’s otherwise unharmed,” she says. “He’s in the ICU with Lady Sarah. I’ll send a nurse to take you up to her.”

“Thank you,” says Alexander and the doctor excuses herself.

Jonathan watches her go impatiently. “Why can’t we go straight up to her?”

“Have patience, Hunter, they’ll have their reasons,” Alexander reassures him.

“Mr. Huntington?” It’s Steven, who has suddenly appeared in the doorway. He’s holding a rolled-up magazine in his hand.

Jonathan seems to know what the chauffeur wants from him.

“Excuse me a moment,” he tells us and goes out to the corridor with Steven. Alexander and I stay behind in the luxurious waiting room.

As I’m standing right by the door, I can see Steven showing his boss the magazine, but I can’t see what kind of a publication it is because Jonathan is standing with his back to me. The two of them are talking and I can see the chauffeur nodding. Suddenly I feel a hand on my arm and jerk back in surprise.

Alexander is standing next to me, watching me with a slight smile on his face. I realize right away that he’s going to broach the subject I’d rather not talk to him about.

“I know it’s none of my business, Grace, but what kind of an experiment is Jonathan conducting with you?”

I turn red. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say, evasively.

“I think you do know, actually. And before you get annoyed with me: I’d be happy if it were the way it looks.”

“How does it look?” I ask, torn between curiosity and embarrassment.

“It looks as though my friend finally has a woman in his life.” He looks skeptically out into the hallway, where Jonathan is still talking to the chauffeur. “Even though I can hardly believe it.”

I sigh when I hear that. “And now you want to warn me off, I suppose.”

Alexander gives me a puzzled look then he smiles. “No, actually, I don’t.” He turns serious again. “But perhaps a warning is in order. Jonathan isn’t an easy person, Grace. He never has been. It’s very difficult to get close to him and, even though I’ve known him for a long time, there are things he won’t talk about even with me.” He scratches his forehead pensively. “And as to having a woman in his life—well, that’s never happened.”

I look at him, confused. “But I can’t be the first woman to have been with him …” I can’t finish my sentence and my cheeks turn a deeper shade of red. “Can I?”

Alexander laughs, clearly amused. “No. I’m afraid there have been many such women in his life, Grace. But no one he’s shared his everyday life with. That he’s taken everyone he went, even somewhere like here.”

My heart starts beating faster. “What do you think that means?” I ask hopefully, but Alexander doesn’t get a chance to answer because at that moment Jonathan returns.

He looks from me to his partner and back again, and frowns briefly.

“What did Steven want?” Alexander inquires.

“He asked after Sarah. And we also had something …else to discuss.”

I know Jonathan well enough now to notice that he doesn’t want to talk about it. And he wouldn’t talk about it, even if one of us asked him to. But, regardless, at that moment the nurse arrives to take us up to intensive care.

The corridors we walk along are all quiet and clean, and the furnishings and decor look very classy, quite unlike what I’m used to from public hospitals back home. When we reach the sealed doors to the intensive care unit, the nurse hands us all green hospital gowns with long sleeves and ties, which look like straitjackets, which we have to put on in order to be allowed into the entrance area. Jonathan and Alexander slip inside right away, ask where Sarah is and then hurry straight to the room the nurse points out to them. But I hang back.

“I’d rather wait here,” I explain to the friendly woman, whose name badge reads Carole Morgan. “Otherwise Miss Huntington will have too many visitors at once.”

My explanation is just a pretext. I suddenly don’t feel comfortable at the thought of coming face to face with Jonathan’s sister—and Jonathan’s father.

Neither of them knows me, after all, and they’ll wonder what I’m doing here. I don’t know the answer to that myself.

The nurse takes my gown back, but instead of putting it away, she holds it out invitingly and helps me into it, tying it shut at the back. “Feel free to go in with them, it’s really not a problem,” she reassures me.

“But I thought …are that many people allowed into the intensive care unit all at once?” I ask, astonished. After all, apparently the Earl is already with Sarah, which would make four visitors in total.

The nurse smiles. “That completely depends. If the patient is in a critical condition, then they’re not. But that’s not the case with Lady Sarah.” She bends forward, as I go on looking at her skeptically. “Besides, we recently expanded the intensive care unit, with the help of the regular donations we receive from Lord Lockwood. Having several visitors in the room at once is no longer a problem,” she adds, with a meaningful look. Now I understand. Actually, it’s not their usual practice. But they can make an exception for the Earl and his family because they provide the clinic with financial support. So he always gets what he wants, without even having to ask—just like his son.

“Lady Sarah’s room is over there,” Sister Carole explains, indicating the room Jonathan and Alexander have already disappeared inside. I hesitate, but then my curiosity gets the better of my reticence and I open the door and cautiously look in.

It’s a room with very modern furnishings, which has clearly been renovated recently. It’s not big, but not tiny either. Jonathan is sitting on the high, wide bed, the only one in the room, holding the hand of the young woman lying there. There are several tubes and sensors attached to her hands and chest and a wall of monitors behind the bed, which are beeping worryingly. Sarah Huntington is clearly Jonathan’s sister. She’s more delicately built than him and much more slender, but like him, she’s very pretty. She has the same sparkling blue eyes as he does, and her short hair is dark, like his. Her hair frames her pale face, sunk deep into the pillows. She shows clear signs of the pain and stress of the accident. But she’s still smiling at Jonathan and at Alexander, who’s standing on the other side of her, next to the bed. The three of them are the only ones in the room, however, as Jonathan’s father is nowhere to be seen.

“Are you in pain?” Jonathan is sitting with his back to me, so I can’t see his face, but I can hear the gentleness in his voice. He’s been stroking her hand with his thumb the whole time.

Sarah shakes her head. “No. I just feel a bit—tied up,” she says, indicating the traction cast around her left leg. “I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere in a hurry. The doctor said it’ll be a few weeks before I can get out of here.”

“We’ll make sure you don’t get bored,” Alexander assures her and Sarah smiles at him. Then she spots me.

“Hello,” she says, puzzled but not unfriendly, and I return her greeting shyly. I don’t know what to say or how to introduce myself. But Jonathan, who has turned back toward me, takes over for me.