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Anna was out of her bed in one leap, fired by urgency. She hit the floor running, fighting her way into her robe as she dashed down the corridor. Jasmine’s room was two doors along. When she had looked in earlier the little girl had been fast asleep in the pretty canopied bed that was illuminated by a night light that cast shadows of birds on the wall above her head.
Jasmine was no longer asleep but sitting up in her bed, two patches of bright colour on her cheeks. The little girl’s otherwise pale face was stained with tears.
‘I was sick.’
‘You poor thing.’ Bending over the bed, Anna smoothed the damp curls from the little girl’s feverish forehead and assessed the situation.
‘I’m hot!’
‘I know, darling, never mind—we’ll have you sorted in two ticks,’ Anna soothed.
It took a little longer than that. She sponged Jasmine and dressed her in a fresh pair of pyjamas, then sat the child, who was shivering even though her skin was hot, in an armchair while she changed the bed linen. ‘Oh, you poor thing.’
Five minutes later Jas was back in her bed. Heavy-eyed, she looked on the point of falling back to sleep and not obviously distressed. In charge of a class of thirty six-year-olds for the past four years, Anna was not a stranger to childhood ailments, but the first call with unwell children had always been to contact the parents and clearly in this situation that was not possible.
With no Angel, second best would have to do.
Second best. She was willing to bet this term was not one that was generally applied to Cesare Urquart—the man had winner written all over him. Some people might find that attractive. Personally Anna found little to admire in men driven to prove they were the best at everything, the sort of men that people looked to for leadership. Well, she for one liked to make her own decisions, though in this instance she was glad this was not her call.
‘I’m thirsty.’
Anna picked up the empty glass on the bedside table and went to the kitchen to fill it.
‘Just sips,’ she warned as she held it up to the fretful youngster’s lips. ‘Just wet your lips...better?’
Jasmine nodded and Anna kissed the little girl’s forehead.
‘I want Mummy.’ The sniff and the trembling lip completed a totally heartbreaking scene. If Angel had been able to see her daughter at that moment Anna had no doubt that contract or not, she would have been on the first plane home, and by then of course Jas would have forgotten she’d ever been ill!
‘I know, sweetheart. How about if I fetch Uncle Cesare?’
Jasmine nodded. ‘Yes, I want Uncle Cesare.’
Don’t we all? chimed Anna’s subconscious.
‘I won’t be long. You just snuggle down and I’ll...’ Drag your uncle from his warm bed. From his lover’s arms. My, aren’t I going to be the popular one? She breathed through a wave of nausea and wondered if she might have a dose of what afflicted Jasmine. ‘Back in two ticks,’ she promised.
When the housekeeper at Angel’s request, had given her a tour on that first day, Anna had paid attention. She remembered Mrs Mack pointing out the staircase she now ran up, emphasising sternly it led to Mr Urquart’s private quarters and was strictly off limits.
She had stopped short of saying so was the man himself, but the underlying message was clear. The poor woman obviously considered her boss a man irresistible to women and she had taken on the job of protecting him.
Somehow Anna had kept a straight face while being lectured on the strict hierarchy within the castle. A hierarchy that made it not the done thing to approach Cesare Urquart directly. There were channels, the housekeeper had informed her sternly.
Anna hadn’t asked what the channels were. It was all she could do to stop herself from informing the woman that approaching her precious boss was not something she was likely to be doing in a hurry.
Pity the woman hadn’t told the man himself about the rules, though at three a.m., rules became a little blurred.
Jas’s uncle would blame her. Fairness didn’t come into it; reasonable was not in his vocabulary. He had been waiting for her to screw up and he’d probably be delighted to have a reason.
Not true, said the voice in her head, and you know it. Anna gave a reluctant sigh of acknowledgement. Whatever his faults, and he had many, not being protective or caring for his niece was not among them. There was no way he would have the child suffer to prove a point.
Poor little Jas. The thought of the girl made Anna almost philosophical about the blast of chilly contempt coming her way. He’d find some way of making this her fault, and maybe, she mused, he wasn’t so wrong. She had noticed Jasmine’s flushed cheeks at bedtime and instead of taking her temperature she’d put it down to the warm bath.
