Romance In Paradise. Sarah Mayberry
Читать онлайн книгу.
waiter who had placed the next course in front of her and saw the other plate he held—his plate!—wobble as his young knees buckled under the force of that smile. He couldn’t blame him, so he snatched at his plate before the mini-cheese platter ended up in his lap.
Morgan smiled at him before turning to another man on the table. Noah sneaked a look at his watch...it was after eleven already, and people were table-hopping or getting up to dance.
Maybe they could leave soon...
‘Morgan, my honey, it’s so nice to see you. We don’t see enough of your pretty face at these events.’
Noah lifted his eyebrows at the plummy tones and looked at Morgan. The man had his eyes fixed on Morgan’s chest and his manicured fingers rested on her shoulder. Noah, reacting instinctively, slid his arm around the back of Morgan’s chair, knocked his hand away and cupped her slim shoulder in his hand. Soft, silky...
Morgan turned slightly, leaned back towards him, and he caught a whiff of her hair: citrus and spice. Lust rocketed to his groin.
‘Morgan...’ It was another voice demanding her attention.
Give the girl a break, Noah thought, turning to look up into the face of an elderly gentlemen who looked as if he could do with more than a couple of sessions in the gym and a year on a low-carb diet. Manners pulled them both to their feet and Noah watched as Morgan’s knuckles were kissed in an old-fashioned gesture.
‘It’s so wonderful to have you here at the benefit, Morgan, and the room is abuzz with the news that you are taking over the reins of the charity ball from Hannah,’ he gushed.
‘Well, not quite, Alexander,’ Morgan hedged. ‘Mum is still in charge.’
‘As you know, this ball aims to raise money for scholarships for deprived students in the poorer areas of our great city.’
Noah did an inner eye-roll at his pompous words, but Alexander wasn’t quite done with the speechmaking.
‘Our foundation was a recipient of a portion of the money raised from your ball five years ago, so I thought that you could do a short speech about the ball. In a couple of minutes? Wonderful.’
Smooth, Noah thought, he hadn’t given her much chance to refuse.
‘And who is your escort, Morgan?’ Alexander held out a hand to Noah, which Noah shook. ‘Alexander Morton—of Morton’s International...banking, dear boy.’
Even when he’d been a boy he’d never been anyone’s ‘dear boy’, Noah thought as he shook the soft, fishy hand and resisted the urge to wipe his own on his pants leg.
Morgan made a couple of standard responses to Alexander’s queries after her family, but he could hear the tension in her voice, could see it in her suddenly tense jaw.
She was seriously and completely rattled. He wondered why.
* * *
Pretend they are naked, Morgan told herself as she gripped the podium and looked out over the expectant faces below. No, don’t think they are naked, you’re feeling traumatised enough. They are cabbages...they are dolls...
They were people waiting for her to fall flat on her face. She wasn’t going to disappoint them...
Dear God, she thought, sucking in air, this was her worst nightmare. The room whirled and swirled. She couldn’t find the words, didn’t know what to say...what was she doing up here? She didn’t—couldn’t—do speeches, especially unprepared ones.
Her knuckles whitened and she gnawed on her lip as the murmurs from the restless crowd drifted up towards her.
Help. She pulled her tongue down from the top of her mouth and managed to find a few words. ‘Um...good evening, ladies and gentlemen.’
Bats! What now? She couldn’t think, couldn’t find the words...frozen, there was the word. She was utterly iced up.
Then Morgan felt movement next to her and a large, familiar hand rested on hers and gently lifted her stiff fingers from the podium.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is James Moreau. Thank you for allowing Morgan and I a few minutes to tell you about the Moreau Charity Ball.’
James... She hadn’t even known that he was at the ball tonight. Rescued again. Morgan briefly closed her eyes and felt the panic recede. Thank you, my darling big brother.
Morgan squeezed James’s hand in gratitude and linked her fingers in his as she listened to his fluid off-the-cuff speech. He soon had his audience laughing and eating out of his hand...the smooth-talking devil.
‘I owe you,’ she said under cover of the applause. ‘I was bulldozed up here.’
‘Then bulldoze back, Morgs,’ James retorted. ‘What would you have done if I wasn’t here?’
‘I don’t have a clue,’ Morgan admitted as he led her back into the clapping fray. She tugged her hand out of James’s and wiped her glistening forehead with the tips of her fingers. ‘I need to visit the ladies’ room.’
James gave her a critical look. ‘You’re as white as a sheet. You need lipstick and a shot of brandy.’
Morgan placed her hand on her sternum as her stomach churned. ‘At the very, very least,’ she agreed.
* * *
On the edge of the dance floor Morgan took the hand that Noah held out and stepped into his arms. He felt solid and strong...and best of all real. Just for a moment she wished she could place her head on his shoulder and rest awhile. This was why she hated the social swirl so much; the party-girl cloak she pulled on to get her through evenings like this weighed her down. She felt exhausted and such a fraud.
‘So, what was that about?’ Noah asked, his voice somewhere above her temple.
‘What?’ It was a stupid question because she immediately knew what he was referring to.
‘James rushing to your rescue? I never imagined that you would be at a loss for words. You looked like your knees were knocking together.’
Why did he have to be so perceptive? James had assured her that they’d pulled it off, that most people had thought she was just waiting for him to join her at the podium, but if that was so then why had Noah noticed her nerves? And if he had noticed how scared she was, who else had? Oh, bats, did that mean that everyone was laughing behind her back? Sniggering?
She stepped back, lifted her hands and tossed her head. ‘I want to go home now,’ she told him, pleased that her voice sounded reasonably steady.
‘Why?’ Noah demanded.
Because I feel like a fool... ‘I have a headache.’
‘Not buying it, Duchess.’
Noah placed his hand on her hip, picked up her hand again and pushed her back into the dance. She followed his lead automatically and wished that the floor could swallow her whole. She felt hot with humiliation and cold when she thought about what was being said behind her back.
Morgan made herself meet his far too discerning eyes and didn’t realise that her pulse was beating a hard rhythm in the base of her throat.
‘Noah, I simply don’t care whether you think I am talking rubbish or not. I’m done with this evening, I’m done talking and, frankly, I’m done with you too. I need some space and some time alone.’ She shoved a hand into her hair. ‘Can you, for once, just act like a bodyguard? Can you stop talking, keep your opinions to yourself and just leave me the hell alone?’
Noah’s head jerked back and his implacable remote mask dropped into place. ‘Certainly.’
He gestured to the edge of the floor and kept a respectful distance as they walked back to the table. His voice was devoid of emotion when he spoke again. ‘If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll just organise the car.’
Morgan