The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,60

hand. The sound broke through her inertia.

“Alex, is it broken?” she whispered, anxious, but afraid to touch his hand for fear it might cause him more pain.

“I doubt it. It’s not the first time I’ve clouted my brother, Sarah, and it probably won’t be the last . . .” His voice trailed off.

“But why did you do that?” she asked, incredulous.

“He insulted you. Do you think I would let him get away with that?” He frowned at her, his brows knitted together. “And the rugby retribution was long in coming,” he muttered almost to himself.

“But you could have . . . I don’t know . . . cursed at him or something . . .”

He raised his uninjured hand to her cheek. “Sarah, it’s how we settle things.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry, later we’ll reconcile over a pint.”

This was a side of Alex she’d yet to see, nor ever had imagined existed. Oddly, she rather liked that he stood up for her. Not being a violent person herself, this was an unexpected side of her as well. But the fact that it was his brother, and that she had been the impetus for such behavior was mortifying to her.

Her eyes cut back to the tabloid lying on the table, a concern creasing her brow.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, as he pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her. “I’m sorry about the photo. I thought I’d out-smarted the guy, but apparently he has made it his personal mission to invade my privacy.”

Sarah pulled back. “You knew about this? You knew we were being . . . stalked by this photographer, and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, and I thought I’d evaded him.” Alex reached for her again, but she stepped back.

“You really should have warned me, Alex. Don’t you think I had a right to know that a consequence of dating you might be to find myself in the . . . spotlight?” She picked up the tabloid again and flipping it over saw the headline “The Other Woman?”

He grimaced at the expression on her face.

“The other woman? Me? Am I the other woman?” Her voice rose with her hysteria. Her throat tightened and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

If Alex was dating someone, or worse engaged . . . she felt sick. However unwitting her role as the other woman might have been, the thought of it filled her with revulsion. But no, his grandmother never would have stood by and let him . . . unless she doesn’t know.

“No! Of course not.” Alex raked his good hand through his hair. “Listen . . . Sarah . . . you can’t believe everything you read.”

“Then why don’t you enlighten me?” she asked, as she swiped angrily at a tear.

Alex sat with a sigh. “I had been dating the Prime Minister’s daughter. The tabloids practically had the wedding planned.” At her horrified expression, he raised his hands, entreating her to wait. “We never had any intention of getting married, and we ended the relationship amicably.”

Alex stood to pace the length of the room. “But that doesn’t sell papers, so they create stories out of whole cloth, with absolutely no basis in fact.” He stopped in front of Sarah, and tossing the makeshift ice pack on the table, placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sarah, you are not the other woman. You are the only woman. And I am so sorry that you’ve been thrust into the ruthless public eye.”

This brought a fresh round of tears. In front of her stood a contrite, and no doubt sincere, man. A gentleman, who personified all her romantic notions, however silly those notions might be. But she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t live her life wondering if some tabloid photographer was snapping her photo at some inopportune moment.

More importantly, she couldn’t bear to see her relationship with Alex reduced to a tasty tabloid tidbit.

“Is this what your life is like?” she whispered.

“Yes. I’m afraid it is. For now. You might not like it, but you learn to live with it.” He gave her a half smile and a slight lift of his shoulder.

Sarah closed her eyes. “I don’t think so,” she whispered, despondent.

Chapter 19

The wheels of the jet touched down on the runway, startling Sarah. She didn’t even remember the flight attendant announcing their initial approach into Jacksonville. This had been the longest flight she’d ever experienced, and the eight and a half hour flight-time and five hour