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‘I think you’re being a little over-optimistic,’ Ethan said as he powered back the engines. ‘My best guess is they got the photographs they came for and their work is done.’
‘How can you be so calm about i
t? Don’t you care?’
‘I don’t waste time regretting things that can’t be changed.’
‘But they breached your privacy. Won’t you make some sort of protest?’
Her heart jolted to see Ethan’s lips tug in a smile. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting I should try to curb the freedom of the press?’
‘Of course not, but.’
‘But?’ he pressed.
‘Well, I just can’t roll over.’
‘You don’t have to,’ he pointed out. ‘It’s happened and I’ll deal with it.’
‘Okay, well, my parents are going to be devastated. What if the press are there right now, hammering on their door? Ethan, I have to call them.’
He couldn’t imagine anyone else on earth in this predicament thinking of placing an international call, but he was fast learning that Savannah’s first thought was always for others, and he envied the loving relationship she obviously enjoyed with her parents and would never stand in the way of it. ‘I’ll speak to them first to reassure them, and then you can speak,’ he suggested, warming to her.
‘Would you really do that?’
Her relief made him think he should have done it sooner. ‘Number?’
As she recited it he punched it in to his mobile phone, and it occurred to him that Savannah must have no idea how lucky she was to have a loving family.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said several minutes later when she had finished speaking to her mother.
‘I wanted to,’ he admitted. ‘It was the right thing to do,’ he added sternly when Savannah’s face softened into a smile.
‘It was very kind of you.’
‘It was nothing,’ he argued, turning his attention back to sailing the boat. ‘All I did was point out that my legal team will handle any press intrusion, and reassure your parents that they mustn’t worry because you were safe with me.’
‘You gave them your private number.’
‘How else are they supposed to call me?’
‘Well, thank you,’ she said sincerely.
‘Your mother seemed reassured,’ he said, unbending a little. His reward was to see Savannah’s face softening into a smile.
Her mother had been reassured, Savannah reflected with relief. Her romantic mother had always been a sucker for a strong man, though she preferred them safely corralled on the cover of a book or on a screen at the cinema, and kept a well-trained beta hero at home. She wondered if her mother would be quite so reassured if she could see Ethan in the flesh.
‘I have another call to make,’ Ethan told her, turning away.
As Ethan stood in profile his scars were cruelly exposed, and it appalled her to think one person could do that to another. But surely it couldn’t have been one person—it had to have been more—a gang, maybe? She’d felt a fraction of Ethan’s strength today and he was bigger, stronger and fitter than most men. What kamikaze group of yobs would have dared to take him on?
Trained yobs—professional thugs, truly evil men—was the only conclusion she could possibly come to. No casual attack could result in such serious injuries. But who would pay such men to beat Ethan so severely he’d nearly lost his life and had lost his sporting career? Professional rugby might be a highly competitive sport, but it was hardly a killing ground.
As Ethan finished his call and stowed the phone, turning the wheel to negotiate a bend in the river, Savannah was wondering if the person behind Ethan’s beating also accounted for the darkness in his eyes. If so Ethan carried far more scars than were visible to the naked eye. ‘Are we going to the airport?’ she said, noticing he was steering the boat towards a tributary.
‘To the airport first, and then to my place in Tuscany—just until the heat dies down.’
‘To Tuscany?’ She was feeling more out of her depth than ever.
