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‘It’s fine.’ Shifting away from the soft, seductive warmth of her body, he handed her the phone. ‘But just so you know...we have four hours of flight time left and I intend to spend every remaining minute of those hours in this bed with you.’
‘Hi, Mum.’ She kissed him lightly on the lips.I won’t be long, she mouthed.
Given his current state of arousal, any amount of time was too long, he thought, rolling back against the pillow, his heartbeat slowing to match the pulse in his groin. He felt a burst of heat as she leaned forward and he caught a glimpse of the back of her neck. Four hours in bed wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy his need for this woman. That would take several lifetimes. In fact, he would probably need until the end of time itself.
‘But what did they say? Is he going to be all right?’
The breathless shock in Dove’s voice cut across his musings like a guillotine. His eyes snapped over to where she was sitting, her hand clenched around the phone, the knuckles stark against her pale skin.
‘What is it?’ He was by her side in an instant. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked gently.
‘It’s Alistair. He’s been taken into hospital.’ She pressed her hand against her mouth. ‘My mum couldn’t get him to wake up, and when she did his speech was all slurred.’
Dove was struggling to speak, and there were tears in her eyes.
‘He must have had a stroke. Or maybe it’s his diabetes.’
Her voice was muffled by her knuckles but still he could hear her pain.
‘My dad died before I got to the hospital—’
‘That won’t happen.’ The pain in her voice made him want to tear the plane apart with his bare hands. ‘I won’t let that happen.’
Staring down into her pale, desperate face, he felt his heart swell. Nothing mattered except making her happy and whole again. Not the acquisition. Not his own pain. There was only Dove.
He knew in that moment that he loved her, and the urgency of it filled his mouth—only this wasn’t the right time. Dove needed him to step up. She needed someone she could rely on.
‘It’s okay.’ He pulled her against him. ‘Listen to me. It’s going to be okay.’
He took the phone from her hand, deliberately slowing his mind, blanking out his love for her and her heart-wrenching panic.
‘Mrs Cavendish? It’s Gabriel Silva. I’m here with your daughter. Could you tell me which hospital Alistair was taken to?’
For Dove, the next three hours were a nightmarish blend of time moving with agonising slowness and holding her breath, waiting for the phone to ring again.
She felt another wave of panic rise up inside her. Everything was jerky and disconnected. Her breath, her thoughts. And she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her face.
If she had been on her own, she had no idea how she would have got back to London. But she wasn’t on her own. Gabriel was with her.
After hanging up the phone, he’d taken charge immediately. Within minutes the plane had turned round and headed towards London. Next, he’d called ahead to arrange for a driver to meet them at the airport, and all the time he’d been making calls and organising people he’d been by her side, the quiet, solid strength of his body giving her strength.
And now they were heading towards the hospital in a limousine, and she was having to tense every muscle to stop herself crying out when the car stopped at a red traffic light.
‘He’s in good hands.’
She turned to where Gabriel sat beside her. His blue eyes were steady and calm on her face and she let out a long, slow breath. He sounded so sure, so certain.
‘I just wish I knew what was going on.’
‘You will. We’re less than five minutes away from the hospital now. But in the meantime just try and focus on what you do know—which is that your mother acted very quickly. She didn’t wait...she called an ambulance immediately.’
Remembering the sadness in her mother’s voice on the phone, she felt her throat swell. Her mother and Alistair had grown up together. They had known each other their whole lives. Before Oscar, Olivia had been engaged to Alistair. After she married Oscar, she and Alistair went back to being friends—better friends than she had ever managed to be with her husband.
‘I don’t know what she’ll do if anything happens.’
‘She’s stronger than you think,’ he said quietly.
There was that certainty again, and it hit her then with a jolt that Gabriel had spoken to her mother. Obviously, she knew that—she’d been there when they’d talked—but somehow the knowledge had got swallowed up and swept aside in all the panic. But after all this time it had happened, and she sensed that her mother had liked him, and that probably she would always have liked him. Only now it was too late to matter.
