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Her eyes dragged back to his, as if each were bowed with unbearable weight.
She saw what was written there in his eyes, and knew instantly, mortally, just why he had done this. Come to Salton, sought her out, told her that her world had been destroyed.
And he was telling her now, in the depths of those dark, obsidian eyes, just what the price would be to save it.
His hand smoothed over her shoulder again. Hard. Warm. Heavy.
Possessive.
‘I want you, Portia,’ he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HER interview with Tom was painful. Agonisingly painful. She had to wait over an hour before seeing him. Diego Saez had walked away from her, there in the little sunken garden where her world had ended, and closeted himself with her brother in the library. Then a chauffeur-driven car had arrived at the front door, a fast, powerful, expensive saloon, and Diego Saez had climbed inside and been driven off
.
Portia had given Tom five minutes, then walked indoors.
What had struck her first, like some ghastly bad joke, was that he no longer looked ill.
Ill? The sick humour of it struck at her. Tom hadn’t been ill—hadn’t been coming down with flu. He’d been sick with worry, with fear! And she’d been blind to it! Totally, completely blind!
Guilt coursed through her. Her own brother, floundering in despair, and she hadn’t even noticed.
Yet now, seeing his face clear of that haggard, drawn look only made her lungs squeeze. Because there could be only one reason for Tom no longer looking at death’s door.
Diego Saez had offered him his lifeline.
As she stood, hovering on the entrance to the library, he surged towards her.
‘Portia! Come in! Listen—I’ve something I’ve got to tell you!’
She listened, trying desperately hard to conceal her own emotions, as he poured out to her, at last, the situation at the bank. He was so full of self-recrimination, constantly berating himself for having let it get so bad, excusing everyone but himself, that Portia could not bear it.
Even less could she bear him extolling Diego Saez.
‘If he’d ridden up on a white charger I couldn’t have been more relieved!’ he exclaimed. ‘He’s giving me the breathing space we need. Oh, he’ll take the majority holding—I can hardly expect anything else—but the main thing is that the bank will keep going. He’ll sort out the situation, get everything in order, and use his massive financial muscle to knock heads together. He’ll get us clean, and then he’ll organise an orderly sale to one of the US giants. He’s happy to wait to take his profit then, and he will, too—I wouldn’t begrudge him a penny of it!’
He frowned slightly. ‘Uncle Martin will have to go. I knew he’d insist on that—and if I’d had more gumption myself I’d have done the same. Trouble is—’ he looked at his sister wryly ‘—it’s pretty difficult to tell the seventy-year-old man who taught me how to bowl that he’s not wanted on voyage any longer. I always knew he lived in the past, but I thought—well, I thought I could carry him.’ His face took on a guilty look. ‘But I couldn’t. And I damn near ruined everything, thinking I could!’
She took an unsteady breath. ‘And what about you, Tom? What happens now with you?’
He gave a shaky smile—but at least it was a smile. ‘Well, Saez wants me to carry on for a bit—though he’ll find a good man to underpin me, and he’ll be taking all the decisions. Then, when he thinks the time is right, I’ll resign. Yes, I know it’s a comedown, but, Portia, for me it’s like the end of term! You can’t believe how much I’ve come to loathe that damn bank! And now I’m going to be free of it.’
He made a face and looked her in the eyes. ‘I’m going to live here, marry Felicity, look after Salton and be a countryman at last! It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.’
His expression was like that of a reprieved prisoner.
She returned his shaky smile with one even shakier. ‘I know. And hearing you say you’re definitely going to marry Fliss is brilliant! She’s hopelessly in love with you, you know, Tom.’
His eyes shadowed for a moment. ‘But till now I couldn’t ask her. How could I, when I had all this fiasco hanging over me? But I’m clear now—as soon as Saez takes over and the contracts are signed!’
She swallowed, and forced the words from her.
‘When’s that going to be?’
‘Well, all the paperwork will have to be drawn up first. There’s a whole bunch of legal stuff that has to be gone through, and then the banking regulators have to give it all the OK and so on, but it’s all just a formality.’
