She’d been the one who had thrown herself at him, though, the one who had initiated the physical part. And he’d reciprocated, at first. Until he rejected her.
All this time he’d led her along, telling her how beautiful she was. She was attracted to him and believed the feeling was mutual.
But it hadn’t been mutual. She had thrown herself at him, and Colin had rebuffed her.
She might not have loads of experience when it came to the opposite sex, but Sabela knew when a man was aroused, and Colin had been aroused. Yet, even though she had clearly told him that she wanted him, too, he had not followed through.
Sabela’s face heated with embarrassment. Probably her inexperience had put him off. He was a man of the world, and she was a nobody from Brent Grove.
A knock at the door tore her from her thoughts. She tried to pull her hair back so it wasn’t so all over the place, but had nothing to secure it with.
“Come in,” she warbled. If it was Colin, she’d probably die right on the spot.
Sabela brought the covers up to her chin as the door cracked open. She was relieved to see Marie poke her head inside.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, Ms. Vaughn. Mr. Morgan asked me to deliver your breakfast.”
“It’s okay, Marie. You’re not bothering me,” Sabela replied. A new twinge of pain in her head made her wince, and she looked back at Marie hopefully. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple of aspirin somewhere, would you?”
“Are you feeling poorly?”
“Just a headache.”
Marie eyed the tray she’d brought to Sabela before she went to bed. Sabela hadn’t touched it, simply left it on the side table where Marie had set it.
“You didn’t eat last night. Was it not to your liking?” the kindly housekeeper asked, scooping the tray off the table with a concerned frown, and replacing it with the new tray.
“I’m sure it was wonderful,” Sabela answered. “I just didn’t feel too great. And I’m sure what you’ve brought me right now is wonderful, too, but I’m not hungry.”
Marie’s frown deepened the lines on her brow and around her bright blue eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
“Just some nausea,” Sabela said.
“Hmm. Nausea and a headache. I don’t like the sound of that.”
Sabela hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the housekeeper’s concern forced her into it. “I’m hungover, Marie. That’s all. I drank too much last night.”
“Did you? How much?”
Sabela told her.
“Hmm.” Marie eyed her closely. “That’s not very much.”
“I’m a lightweight.”
“Maybe.”
Sabela thought she herself would know if she was a lightweight or not. Before she could tell Marie, the older woman excused herself, saying she’d be back shortly. She shut the bedroom door behind her.
Sabela wondered at the abrupt departure, and even more when she heard the housekeeper’s voice filtering in from the sitting room. Sabela realized Marie was speaking on the intercom.
Whatever, she thought, picking up the cup of tea and sniffing at it. She took a small, sample sip. It went down easy, soothing her throat and stomach. She slowly sipped some more.
She lifted the silver cover off the plate on the tray, but the smell of the food made her stomach churn. She quickly recovered the plate and shuddered at the thought of eggs.
She was contemplating adding some honey to her tea when the bedroom door flew open. Colin burst into the room.
Sabela was so startled she nearly dropped her tea, and then she was so unnerved by Colin’s getting an eyeful of her tousled bedhead, she nearly dropped her tea again.
The big man marched up to the bed, Marie bustling after him.
“You have a headache?” he asked, or more, commanded. His frown was deeply etched into his square jaw, and his eyes flashed dangerously.
Sabela was nearly afraid she might give the wrong answer, he was so intimidating. “Er, yes?”
“Nausea?”
“Er, yes?”
He scowled. “Dizzy?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
The scowl deepened. “How’d you sleep? Do you have swelling anywhere? Do you feel tired?”
Sabela blinked at him, overwhelmed by the fierce interrogation. “Okay. No. Kind of.”
Colin waved Marie over then pointed at the tea cup. “Take that.”
Marie snatched the cup out of Sabela’s hand. Colin held out something toward Sabela. A mask. Why was he holding a mask? She realized then that he was holding a tank, too, and that it was attached to the mask.
Sabela batted at Colin’s hands as he tried to put the mask over her mouth. “Hey, mmph, what’s the deal? Stop that!”
“Don’t fight me. Just wear this and breathe.”
Sabela began to fight in earnest.
Marie leaned around the determined man and spoke in soothing tones. “It’s alright, Ms. Vaughn. It’s only oxygen. He’s trying to help you. Mr. Morgan, you’re scaring her. Explain what you’re doing.”
“I’m trying to save you, Sabela, so stop fighting me,” Colin barked.
Save her? From a hangover? Sabela would have laughed if she didn’t suddenly have a mask secured around her head.
“Breathe,” Colin ordered. “It’s oxygen. Don’t be difficult.”
Sabela took a test breath. It seemed okay. She breathed a little deeper.
“Good,” Colin said. “Leave it there for a while and see if you start feeling better.”
Sabela risked pulling the mask away for a moment to quickly squeak out, “I really just need an aspirin or two.”
Colin firmly, but gently removed her hand from the mask. “You may have altitude sickness. It can be serious. Didn’t you read the booklet? You should have contacted one of us last night right away. Marie, didn’t you tell her about the booklet? All our guests who aren’t used to high altitudes are told to read up on the symptoms of altitude sickness. Marie?”
Sabela had read the booklet, but hadn’t thought of it again. She was afraid to admit that to Colin, though.
“Yes, sir. All our guests are asked to read the booklet.” Marie gave Sabela a sympathetic glance. “I must have forgotten to tell Ms. Vaughn. I apologize.”
Colin glowered down at the older woman. “That’s a hell of an oversight, Marie. I count on you to do things right the first time.”
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“I should hope not.”
Marie was taking the blame for Sabela’s forgetfulness, and Sabela couldn’t let her do it. She opened her mouth to explain, but Marie cut her off with a sharp look.
Colin turned his attention back to Sabela. “Feeling better yet?”
Hell no, she wasn’t feeling any better. She shook her head.
“Marie,” he said, “get Ms. Vaughn some ibuprofen please. Not aspirin.”
Marie said she would, shooting another warning look at Sabela before she left, a look that said she didn’t want Sabela to tell Colin about the booklet lie.
Colin stood stiffly beside the bed and snapped out some questions about Sabela’s condition. She nodded and shook her head accordingly. The longer the interrogation went on, the less intimidated she became, and the more her desire to rebel grew.
Finally, when he asked about her “stools,” she snapped.
She yanked the mask off her face. “It’s just a stupid hangover! For God’s sake, leave me alone!”
He flinched, his handsome features almost comical in his surprise. He overcame it quickly, though, and snatched up the mask again. “Put this back on, or I’ll put it on for you.”
“I won’t do it. I don’t have altitude sickness.”
“Well it can’t be a hangover. You only had a few small glasses of wine and an ounce of scotch, maybe? No one gets a hangover from that.”
Sabela’s face and neck burned with embarrassment. “Apparently, I do.” She frantically tried to sm
ooth down her tousled hair. “Now get out of my room before I … before I … do something you don’t like.”
One of his finely-shaped brows arched higher than the other. “Oh really? And what would that be?”
“You don’t want to find out.”
“And you don’t want to find out what I do to house-guests who endanger their health by not following reasonable treatment.”