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He sat on the floor beside her bed, guarding her as she cried herself to sleep. Outside, voices called to one another and car doors slammed. People were leaving the building. Strangely, he felt no sense of invasion at them being there in the first place. Probably because the mansion had never really been his home.
He ran a hand through his hair before letting his head fall back to the bed behind him. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with Donna and the manipulations that had gone on behind his back. Right now, he needed to make sure everyone was gone, and that the police dealt with the gardener.
He looked over at the bedside table and reached for the book, the only thing in the room that belonged to Donna, seeking some comfort in touching something that was hers. He smiled at the title—Peter Pan—another kid’s book. He shook his head at yet another sign of her soft heart. And then he flicked the book open.
Chapter 29
Donna woke to the early morning sun streaming through her bedroom window. She’d forgotten to close the blind. She rolled to her back and groaned at the thought of getting up to face the day, but someone had to be there to deal with the cleaning crew so that the house would be in pristine shape when Duncan came home.
“Duncan!” She sat up in bed with a squeal.
“Good morning, Donna.” He was sitting on the armchair in the corner of her room, facing her bed.
Although he was dressed in fresh clothes, and had obviously showered and shaved, he didn’t look like he’d gotten very much sleep. Her mind raced over the events of the night before, and her stomach sank. She was in so much trouble.
Who knew what state the mansion was in, and then there was the gardener to deal with...
“My painting!” She leaned over the side of the bed to find the ruined canvas still on the floor where Duncan had left it.
“I haven’t touched it.” His low, rumbling voice was a warning. Unfortunately, it was also the same tone that acted like a tuning fork for her libido.
She plastered on a fake smile. “How did the lecture go? Did you have a good time in Glasgow?”
“Aye.” His dark eyes captured hers. “It was ‘hashtag awesome.’”
She blinked at him, unsure of what to make of his response. “That’s great. I need to get ready.”
“No, you don’t. I’ve already dealt with the cleaning crew. We’ve got a lot to talk about, and I think it’s best if you stay where you are. We both know how good you are at avoiding things you don’t want to deal with.”
“At least let me use the bathroom.”
He inclined his head in permission. “But no running. I’ll just catch you.”
She swallowed hard and dashed for the bathroom, where she did her business, then washed her face and brushed her teeth.
“Don’t think you can hide in there all day.” Duncan’s voice came through the door.
There was nothing else to do but face him—and the mess she’d made of things. With a sense of dread, she left the safety of the bathroom and returned to the bed.
He eyed her coolly. “Let’s start with the ball.”
She winced. There really had been nowhere else to start. “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else to say. It had been a screw-up from beginning to end.
“You should have asked me if you could hold it here.”
It was hard to look him in the eye. “You would have said no.”
“Damn right, I would. I’d also have stood by you while you dealt with those women. They walked all over you. And you let them.”
“I know.” She stared out at the green vista for a minute. “But it was for cancer patients. How could I say no to that?”
He ran a hand over his face. “That’s exactly why you should have told me. They played you. They wanted to hold the party here, and they knew they needed a cause that you couldn’t say no to.”
Donna snorted. “They didn’t have to look far—there isn’t much I’d turn down.”
“Which is why you should have let me stand up for you. I would have protected you, and this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Or would you have shot the messenger?”
