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‘As crystal.’ Bowing her head, she fought to suppress the silent explosion of amusement that had crept up on her unawares. Why was she laughing? Why the heck was she laughing? Her body was shrieking at the deprivation he had sentenced them both to suffer. It wasn’t funny, it really wasn’t funny, but if she went to her dying day she would cherish the look of disbelief on his dark features when she, and not he, took the initiative for a change.
She had shocked Luc, actually shocked him. Who would ever have dreamt that she could possess that capability? It made her feel wicked…it made her feel sexy…and his reaction had made her feel like the most wildly seductive woman in the world. And wasn’t it sweet, incredibly sweet of her supremely self-centred Luc to embrace celibacy for her benefit?
Once, she was convinced, Luc would have taken her invitation at face value, satisfying his own natural inclinations without further thought. That he had thought meant a great deal to her. That brand of unselfish caring was halfway to love, wasn’t it? In a state of bliss, Catherine listened to him reeling off terse instructions to some unfortunate, no doubt quailing at the other end of the phone line. She wanted to smile. She knew why Luc was in a bad mood.
They traversed the airport at speed in a crush of moving bodies, security men zealously warding off the reporters and photographers Luc deplored. He guarded his privacy with a ferocity that more than one newspaper had lived to regret.
‘Who’s the blonde, Mr Santini?’ someone shouted raucously.
Without warning, Luc wheeled round, his arm banding round Catherine in a hold of steel. ‘The future Mrs Santini,’ he announced, taking everyone by surprise, including Catherine.
There was a sudden hush and then a frantic clamour of questions, accompanied by the flash of many cameras. Luc’s uncharacteristic generosity towards the Press concluded there.
They were crossing the tarmac to the jet when it happened. Something dark and dreadful loomed at the back of her mind and leapt out at her. The sensation frightened the life out of her and she froze. She saw an elderly woman with grey hair, her kindly face distraught. ‘You mustn’t do it…you mustn’t!’ she was pleading. And then the image was gone, leaving Catherine white and dizzy and sick with only this nameless, irrational fear focused on the jet.
‘I can’t get on it!’ she gasped.
‘Catherine.’ Luc glowered down at her.
‘I can’t…I can’t! I don’t know why, but I can’t!’ Hysteria blossoming, she started to back away with raised hands.
Luc strode forward, planted powerful hands to her narrow waist and swung her with daunting strength into his arms. In the grip of that incomprehensible panic, she struggled violently. ‘I can’t get on that jet!’
‘It’s not your responsibility any more.’ Luc held her with steely tenacity. ‘I’m kidnapping you. Think of it as an elopement. Good afternoon, Captain Edgar. Just ignore my fianc;aaee. She’s a little phobic about anything that flies without feathers.’
The pilot struggled visibly to keep his facial muscles straight. ‘I’ll keep it smooth, Mr Santini.’
Luc mounted the steps two at a time, stowed Catherine into a seat and did up the belt much as though it were a ball and chain to keep her under restraint. He gripped her hands. ‘Now breathe in slowly and pull yourself together,’ he instructed. ‘You can scream all the way to Rome if you like but it’s not going to get you anywhere. Think of this as the first day of the rest of your life.’
Gasping in air, she stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘I saw this woman. I remembered something. She said I mustn’t do it…’
‘Do what?’
‘She didn’t say what.’ Already overwhelmingly aware of the foolishness of her behaviour, her voice sank to a limp mumble. ‘I had this feeling that I shouldn’t board the jet, that I was leaving something behind. It was so powerful. I felt so scared.’
‘Do you feel scared now?’
‘No, of course not.’ She flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I went crazy, didn’t I?’
‘You had a flashback. Your memory’s returning.’
‘Do you think so?’ She brightened, was faintly puzzled by his cool tone and the hard glitter of his gaze. ‘Why was I so scared?’
‘The shock and the suddenness of it,’ he proffered smoothly. ‘It couldn’t have been a comforting experience.’
The flight lasted two hours. They were not alone. There was the steward and the stewardess, the two security men, a sleek executive type taking notes every time Luc spoke, and a svelte female secretary at his elbow, passing out files and removing them and relaying messages. And the weird part of it all was that if Catherine looked near any of them they hurriedly looked away as if she had the plague or something.
Sitting in solitary state, she beckoned the stewardess. ‘Could I have a magazine?’
‘There are no magazines or newspapers on board, Miss Parrish. I’m so sorry.’ The woman’s voice was strained, her eyes evasive. ‘Would you like lunch now?’
‘Thanks.’ It was quite peculiar that there shouldn’t even be a magazine on board. Still, she would only have flicked through it. Sooner or later, she would have to tell Luc that she was dyslexic. She cringed at the prospect. She had never expected to be able to fool Luc this long. But somehow he had always made it so easy for her.
If there was a menu in the vicinity, he ordered her meals. He accepted that she preferred to remember phone messages rather than write them down for him, and was surprisingly tolerant when she forgot the details. He never mentioned the rarity with which she read a book. Occasionally she bought one and left it on display, but he never asked what it was about. And why did she go to all that trouble?
She remembered how often she had been called stupid before the condition was diagnosed at school. She remembered all the potential foster parents who had backed off at the very mention of dyslexia, falsely assuming that she would be more work and trouble than any other child. She also remembered all the people who had treated her as though she were illiterate. And if Luc realised he was taking on a wife to whom the written word was almost a blur of disconnected images, he might change his mind about marrying her.
When they landed in Rome, he told her that they were completing their journey by helicopter. ‘Where will we be staying?’ she prompted.
